Only Stones Remain (Ballad of Frindoth Book 4)

by Rob Donovan

  Unusually Althalos was more inclined to agree with Tulber. There was something he was not seeing. Vashna had something planned but it was not immediately clear what that was.

  “I failed son. I’ve been failing for a long while now but it is only recently that I discovered the true extent of my failure. My judgement is poor; I’ve neglected my Kingdom to the point where my subjects no longer respect me. This conflict between the Warlords would never have happened if I had ruled properly.”

  “The Warlords always disagree. They always desire more.”

  Jacquard placed a hand on Althalos’s leg and gave a little squeeze. He wanted his son to listen now.

  “It is no coincidence that the western regions have unified as one against the east. My focus has been primarily on governing my own region and neglecting those furthest away. I hardly blame them for rising up. They probably felt they had no choice. What kind of King am I to fail to see that?”

  Jacquard had not expected an answer and so Althalos did not provide one. Instead he waited for his father to continue.

  “After we defeated the Gloom and I learned the true reason for the sacrifice, I seemed to unravel. The two people I had trusted to advise me in ruling my Kingdom had both deceived me. Jefferson was not even the same man I thought he was but an imposter and Iskandar withheld the knowledge about the Gloom protecting us from being invaded by more of the filthy creatures.

  I…I…I began to hallucinate.”

  Jacquard’s words broke as he conceded the last point. Althalos shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He was not sure whether to put an arm around his father or not. It was an act he would never have hesitated to do in the past. He decided to do it now. His father smiled as Althalos placed a hand on his shoulders. He tried not to wince at how fragile they seemed. Even hunched they used to be broad, strong shoulders that could carry the world on them if necessary.

  The Prince remembered how his father had appeared to be rocking when he had entered the room and of the sanctuary for the insane. It was certainly a place where people who hallucinated were sent. He wondered if his father was about to confess that he had not seen the Mantini Lizard after all and realised he did not want the confession to be real. He wanted his father to have killed the creature. He wanted his father to be that man.

  “I began to see Jefferson. I am not sure why. Maybe I needed someone still to advise me. Maybe I retreated into myself to protect my mind. I was in a bad place. I suspected everyone and was paranoid that everyone would betray me. Jefferson was not real. At least I think he wasn’t. I am still not entirely sure. He seemed so real to me.

  Do you remember your grandfather’s words?”

  “Never forgive betrayal,

  Never forgive those that betray you.

  Don’t trust anyone.”

  Althalos said.

  He had heard his father tell the story of his grandfather’s last words to him often enough.

  “Close enough,” Jacquard said and smiled. “Those words became my mantra; a means to survive. Every step I took and every situation I encountered seemed to reinforce those words. The people at Redspear appeared friendly but were the opposite. The same goes for the people at Taddyfield; nice at first, nursing me back to health one second and then willing to hand me over to Kana the next. It seems my suspicions kept on being confirmed every step I took. Even Longshaw and Mansuri weren't free from my suspicions. I often caught them whispering and stealing worried glances in my direction. They didn't believe my story of the Mantini Lizard either."

  Althalos looked up quickly; alarm must have registered on his face as his father smiled. "It's alright. I know you don't believe the story. I wouldn’t either in your situation. All I can say is that throughout it all, the fight I had with the Mantini Lizard was the most real of the lot. If that was an illusion then I have an imagination to rival the great Pewtory the Bard."

  Althalos tried to imagine losing his mind. To doubt everything around him and believe everyone was out to kill you. He could not but could definitely see how his father had reached his mind-set. It was a wonder he trusted his son now. "Did Longshaw and Mansuri believe you in the end?"

  The King looked at Althalos for a long time as if trying to ascertain if there was a hidden meaning behind his son's words.

  "How is Tatanya getting on?"

  For the second time this morning Althalos ignored his father's change of subject. He doubted Jacquard would return to the subject of his two knights however. Something went on there but Althalos could not work out what. Despite himself the Prince smiled at the thought of the young girl who had accompanied the King home.

  "She's certainly confident."

  Jacquard laughed. "That is one word that can be used to describe her."

  "Shana has taken her under her wing and is enjoying the shocked faces Morag pulls at the girl’s endless questions and colourful language."

  The King smiled. "Has she called her a 'bossy cow yet?"

  "Not yet, but she did turn around and say Morag whines like a pig."

  This time the King roared with laughter and Althalos could not help but join in. It was infectious and something that had been very much missing from their lives. Althalos imagined Morag's exasperated expression and the woman throwing her hands in the air as the girl once again questioned why she had to perform a duty a certain way.

  "She will have to be taught the proper etiquette that's for sure."

  "Why? I find her directness refreshing."

  "I suppose you're right. Did she even want to leave her home father?"

  The King's smile fell and Althalos regretted dampening the mood.

  "I don't rightly know if I'm honest. She helped me escape and seemed happy to do so. She was very gleeful as we rode away from her home but as to whether or not she wanted to move on I never asked. She has a mother and a father but rarely seems to mention them and never with too much fondness. The one she most speaks about is her grandmother and even then, it's just to say how much of a know-it-all she is."

  "She has requested to see you a few times." Althalos said.

  "And why has she been denied?" Jacquard asked his voice rising, seemingly shocked at such a decision being made without his knowledge.

  "You have sought solitude since your return. I thought that is what you would have wanted."

  Jacquard sighed and shut his eyes. "Not from her. Poor girl must feel totally abandoned. I will arrange to see her soon."

  There was a thread loose on the bedsheet where the Prince sat, he tugged at it twirling it around his fingers and watching the tip of them turn purple. "I have arranged a meeting with the Warlords today."

  "Those that are still loyal," Jacquard said with a scoff.

  "Will you be there?"

  Jacquard picked up a hand glass and examined his reflection. He moved his face from side to side, stretching his cheeks and rubbing his beard. "I will be there."

  Althalos's heart leapt. It was the news he had hoped for, but something in the way his father spoke warned him not to get too excited. "But not as their King."

  The King lowered the mirror and looked at his son. "I will announce my intention to abdicate the throne to you." He raised a hand when Althalos began to object. "I am no longer fit to rule. I am no longer the man the people want to follow. They wish to follow you son and I couldn't be prouder of you. I will advise you every step of the way as long as you seek my council, but Frindoth is yours now.

  Althalos was pleased to be sitting as his legs felt weak. Hundreds of thoughts raced through his mind. Even when he had commanded the army, he had not thought of himself as the King of Frindoth. He had always been a young man playing at being King; a boy watching the shop for his father for the first time. Did the people really want to follow him? He had been so unsure, every decision he had made so far had been an uncertain one. He had been amazed each time the outcome had turned out favourably; believing it to be more dumb luck than good judgement.

  "Father, I am not sure I am
ready. I am not sure I am wise enough to be King."

  Jacquard smiled and gripped the Prince's shoulder. "That only tells me you are perfectly ready my son."

  Chapter 3

  The guard skulked passed holding a sword as he searched the shadows. Norva held her breath and closed her eyes. The whites of her eyes and the whiteness of her teeth could betray her in the darkness, it was a lesson she had learned once and never forgotten. You are as dark as the shadows, quiet as a tomb and as plain as a wall. The guard continued past her and rounded a corner. Norva counted to five and exhaled steadily. "Plain as a wall and as stupid as an ox," she muttered to herself as she peeled herself away from the brick work.

  Why had she allowed herself to be talked into this foolish errand? If she managed to get an audience with the Prince he was likely to throw her back into the Pit or kill her. She listened to the darkness. The night was dominated by the rush of Lilyon's waterfall. Its roar was deafening and the Ghost Assassin could not possibly see how anyone could sleep with such a racket. She had asked people and they had laughed and said things like, "you get used to it after a while," or "I find the background noise comforting." To Norva, these were statements made when people felt obligated to defend their choice of where they lived. No one could convince her sound was peaceful. She tuned out the waterfall as best she could and detected the fading footsteps of the guard. The sound did not reassure her. Numbers in the keep may have dwindled but the guards had always operated in pairs. There must be a second guard nearby and Norva was annoyed she had not detected him yet. She wiped the sweat from her face and cursed her weakness for the eighteenth time. Weak mentally and physically. She had only gained consciousness three weeks ago. She had no business breaking into the Capital. Even at her prime she had struggled to accomplish such a feat and she was certainly nowhere near her peak now.

  She glanced up and saw the peak of one of the palace turrets. She still had so far to go. She pictured the reunion between the Queen and her son and felt renewed determination grow within her. Mirinda was desperate to see her son again but Vashna had forbidden it. He wanted to make sure the reunion also saw his people benefit as well. For some reason, this meant sending Norva to broker the peace talks. She was seen as someone who the Prince would trust. Vashna relied on the Prince recalling Norva's honesty in first handing herself in when she had murdered a Warlord and later admitting she was a true Stoneholder. Norva was not so sure of the wisdom behind this. It was the King who admired Norva, not the Prince.

  The scuff of the boot made Norva duck down. The second guard appeared from a doorway. His face was flushed and his hair tangled. He fumbled with his trousers and readjusted his breastplate simultaneously. He glanced up at the window of the house he had emerged from and smiled. The Ghost Assassin felt a surge of anger towards the man. How dare he neglect his duties when the kingdom was in such peril! Vashna's army was camped outside the walls and this man thought it more important to get his end away. For the briefest moment, she reached for her Sisters. The sting of her blades would soon wipe the smile from the guard’s face. He was the type of man who would come down hard on someone for urinating against an alley wall.

  The man came close, humming to himself and swinging his sword casually. One thrust and he would hum no more. That is all it would take Norva thought. She gripped the knife in her hand and squeezed. The guard came within two feet of her, oblivious to the danger nearby. She let him go. The mission was more important than ridding the world of one man who was bad at his job.

  “You’ll never know how close you came to losing your life, fool,” Norva said to herself. She had changed long ago from the person who mindlessly stole lives, but some people deserved it.

  She pushed the guards from her mind and continued deeper into the city, sticking to the shadows and ascending ever higher to the palace. It did not take her long to discover the route she used to penetrate the King’s chambers and she found it even easier to reach the palace this time round.

  At one point, she caught a whiff of the dank, decay of the Pit seeping up through the ground. Unwelcome memories of endless days spent in darkness swarmed over her and she fought to control a small wave of panic. Years in the Pit could change a woman and they had certainly transformed her. Whether for the better or worse she could not say yet.

  The quality of the guards increased the closer she got to the Prince’s quarters; representative of the class of people residing within Lilyon. She encountered three more pairs of guards: the first pair was alert but easy to evade, the second lot heard her but thankfully were unable to locate her upon investigating the noise she had made opening a window shutter. However, it was the third pair which troubled her.

  She had made it to outside of the palace gardens when she spied the guards blocking the gate. They were tall and both looked alert, bouncing on the balls of their feet as they held swords and Norva froze in the shadows. When she had broken into the palace before there had not been guards at this post. She scanned the garden walls for another route but the gate was the only entrance. The gardens led to the dining hall and from there it was a short jog to the Prince’s private chambers.

  Norva contemplated finding an alternate route but dismissed the idea. She only had to get passed these guards and then her route to the Prince’s room was clear. Providing he has not placed any other guards you do not know about that is. Norva scowled at the voice of doubt which spoke in her mind. She was never one for doubts and did not relish the voice she heard now.

  “Are you sure Vitel heard something?” the guard on the left said.

  “That is what he said. He thought he heard the scrape of a crate,” the second replied.

  “That could have been anything! Could have been the wind.”

  “Only your wind is potent enough to move a crate.”

  “Weak banter,” the left guard said. Norva could not help but agree. She quested out to the animals around her. Most slept but the nocturnal ones were strangely quiet. The tawny owl nearby was alert, she sensed the bird watching her as if intrigued by what she would do next. A fox lay crouched in the bushes waiting for the right moment to come out and from within the garden a mother field mouse led her children to a safer location. The Ghost Assassin had never been able to influence the animals but had always been able to sense what they were feeling. The caution they felt alarmed her. Were they wary of her or was there something else?

  The garden wall stood over twelve feet, even if Norva had been average height she would need something to climb on to get over it. The lime green moon emerged from behind the clouds altering the complexion of the night as it challenged the blue moon for dominance.

  She studied the guards again. The one on the left held his sword with practiced ease but that did not mean he was proficient with it. She had encountered many a man who liked to play at being a warrior but had very little experience. The guards may have appeared to improve with quality but that did not mean they were a match for her. The guard licked his lips and scratched at his neck. His bravado was forced and Norva realised he hoped the reports of infiltration were spurious. His companion looked a little more relaxed but not much. He flexed his fingers in anticipation but there was a slight tremor in his hand. He was either fretful or pumped with adrenalin.

  Before her incarceration Norva would not have hesitated to eliminate both of them. It was nothing personal but they were obstacles who were in her way. Years in the Pit changed a woman but also killing the guards would be counterproductive to her mission. She was not breaking into the palace to kill someone but to talk to someone and convince them she was on their side. Killing guards would be a major setback in the first part of her argument.

  Go with your instincts, the voice inside her whispered. Norva took a deep breath and obeyed.

  “I’ve been watching you both for the last ten minutes and debating whether or not to kill you,” The guards jumped and raised their weapons as she stood up from her hiding place.

  The guards flinched
as if someone has hurled frozen water over them.

  "Who goes there?" the guard on the left said. They both winced as his voice squeaked.

  Norva stepped out of the shadows. The guard who had spoken almost burst out laughing at her height but one of Norva's Sisters whistled passed his head and clattered against the gate behind him. The knife bounced off the iron and fell beside him. He gulped, and stared down at the blade.

  "I didn't see her move Sterlad. I swear to the moon Gods she did not move."

  "I can assure you I did and I can also promise you I missed on purpose. Next time I won't."

  "Next time? How many more knives do you have?"

  "She has four more. All different sizes." Sterlad said.

  "You know who she is?" The guard said, he held his blade out and it shook as much as his voice.

  Sterlad sheathed his weapon and turned to his companion. "Lower your sword Kerr you're embarrassing us." When Kerr did not obey Sterlad rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Norva. "You're the Ghost Assassin?"

  "I am," Norva said. "You know me?"

  "By reputation."

  "The Ghost Assassin? THE Ghost Assassin?" Kerr said and shifted his stance to better prepare himself. Both Norva and Sterlad ignored him.

  "You know me yet make yourself defenceless?"

  Sterlad shrugged. "Like I said. I've heard about ya. If you wanted us dead we'd be on the floor turning stiff already. I reckon you got something to say."

  "Quite shrewd. How come you got paired with him?"

  "The Prince would rather have someone competent working with someone not competent rather than have two incompetents providing a weakness."

  "Makes sense," Norva said. Sterlad shrugged again as if it did not make much sense to him but he had given it little thought. Kerr gazed between the two of them as if they spoke a foreign language.

  "What do you want?"

  "To let me pass."

  "Why?"

  "I need to speak with Prince Althalos."