Only Stones Remain (Ballad of Frindoth Book 4)

by Rob Donovan

  “Good, it is about time. Let’s get this whole thing over and done with,” Benossa said.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Vashna said. “We make camp here tonight and tomorrow we liberate Prandor and then attack Cordane, hopefully before he reaches Lilyon. General Wray, send a messenger to the Prince informing him that Cordane is finally going to make his move.

  General Wray and the two captains saluted and then began barking orders. Vashna left them to it. He led his horse down the hill and towards the castle, the least he could do was to pick up his bodyguard’s teeth.

  ***

  Wildecliffe Shore was a unique region in Frindoth for two reasons: It was the only region that only bordered one other region and despite the length of that border being quite long, there were only three main passages into the region. The rest were blocked by tall cliffs which surrounded the majority of the region. It was not all unattractive, once you made it passed the miles of rock, the centre of Wildecliffe Shore gave way to some of the best scenery Frindoth had to offer. There were leagues of wooded areas, plush green fields and more lakes than Shangon which was twice its size.

  Vashna stood at the middle of the three passages. It was no more than twenty feet in width with the cliff walls reaching about fifty feet. He had sent four scouts ahead: Two to travel the passage and two more to scale the dark rocks either side. None of the scouts had returned yet. The chalk path sprawled out before him, inviting him in.

  “It’s quiet,” General Wray said.

  “Too quiet,” Colck answered. “Perhaps Kana has already been here and destroyed Prandor?”

  “More likely Prandor destroyed Kana,” Benossa said. He placed his hands behind his back and pushed out his enormous belly to stretch his spine. Vashna could never fathom how the man was so fit given his size.

  Vashna studied the walls for any sign of life and saw none. The only movement was from the seagulls which floated high above in the cloudless sky; their cries bouncing off the cliff walls. General Wray dismounted and examined the chalk floor. There were hoof and wheel markings none of which looked fresh to Vashna although he was far from an expert.

  “What are you thinking?” Vashna asked.

  “Hard to say, a large contingent of soldiers definitely passed this way recently, but not large enough to trouble Prandor unduly. It is quite odd.”

  “Could they have split into three and marched on each passage way?” Colck asked.

  “It’s possible but it would not be very sensible. Splitting the army against Prandor is perhaps the worst thing you could do. With the advantage of the cliffs he only needs one man to defend against every three sent against him. Your best chance would always be to overload the passage with numbers and try to force your way through. You would lose many men though, it is why we never attempted it,” Vashna said.

  “What if Cordane did something to them. We saw what he was capable of at Crestfall,” Benossa said.

  “We also saw what it did to him. It rendered him weak for days afterwards. He would not want to do that if he is close to launching an attack on Lilyon.”

  “I say we charge in and kill any Shangonite or Lakisdorean we see,” Benossa said.

  “That is why you have never made it past the rank of Captain,” General Wray said.

  Benossa smiled, “I thought it was because of my love for food and wine.”

  “That too.”

  Vashna scratched his chin. If he had the time the best way to get through the passageway was to construct large shields to protect them from the rocks that would inevitably be hurled down on them. The shields wouldn’t stop the boulders but they would stop the small projectiles. He didn’t have time though. What was worse, he did not know who he was facing. For all Prandor knew Vashna was still his enemy. Even if the Warlord saw him attacking the Shangonites he would not assume he had switched his allegiance.

  “I wish I knew where those blasted scouts had got to,” he said. No one answered. There was no answer to give.

  He dismounted and noticed a lot of the soldiers copied his lead. It had been a hard and fast journey to Wildecliffe Shore and the men were sore. Not only that, it had been mentally draining. They were constantly on edge expecting an attack at any moment. In Shangon they were technically in enemy territory, once they crossed the border into Meadowmead anyone they met could alert Cordane of their presence within a day’s ride.

  There had been no sign of enemy soldiers however which only confirmed Vashna’s suspicions that Cordane was preparing for war. The towns they passed through had mostly been evacuated. Only the most stubborn hung on to their homes and peered at Vashna’s men from behind shuttered windows and locked doors.

  The people were in a constant state of fear and it was difficult to witness. Rivervale was swamped with refugees and although the Prince had tried to direct them all to the southern tip, the resources there were rapidly dwindling and many still headed for the White City. It was a problem the Prince did not need and one that took up far more resources than he could afford. Vashna thought of how he had opened his own gates to the refugees in Yurisdoria, as he and his people had accommodated as many as they could but the eastern regions were beginning to suffer as more people from the western regions poured into their land.

  Vashna had never agreed with Cordane’s scheme to blame this on the invading Lakisdoreans only for Vashna to drive the foreigners away and confirm his status as the saviour and rightful King. There were other ways he could show the people he was the correct choice as King. Ruling fairly and protecting Frindoth’s borders would have been a far more painless exercise. The fact he had willingly accepted Cordane’s plan only cemented Vashna’s recent belief that he would not have made a good ruler.

  "So, what's the plan?" Benossa asked.

  Vashna had no clue. Every instinct screamed at him that it was madness to enter the passageway. Yet still it was the only way to get to Prandor. Why wasn't it protected though? If the Shangonites and Lakisdoreans had been here already where were the signs of the battle? If they had not been here, why were Prandor's army not protecting the passageway? The only thought that made any kind of sense was that the Shangonites had been victorious and now lay in wait for Vashna in order to ambush him and his men. Kana had left the message for him to find. The teeth were for Vashna's benefit and no one else's. But how did he know Vashna would find them? Had someone told him? Vashna could not see how. Kana would have guessed Vashna would have returned for revenge at some point. The teeth were the perfect way to leave a durable message which Vashna would understand. So, where was Kana?

  "I never knew Lakisdoreans were such cowards!" Vashna shouted at the cliffs. "To come all this way in their flamboyant ships and to proclaim their love of fighting only to hide behind rocks like snivelling rodents."

  "What are you doing?" Colck asked and then asked General Wray the same question when Vashna did not respond.

  "Wait," General Wray told his captain his eyes fixed on the cliffs.

  "Perhaps you have spent too much time with the Shangonites!" Vashna called out. "Tell me, do you now paint skulls on your faces too so you can hide your true identity?" There was no response as Vashna's voice bounced around the cliff walls. He looked at General Wray and shrugged. Colck and Benossa watched him nervously, no doubt working out if he had lost his mind or not. "It was worth a shot,"

  "It was," General Wray said.

  "At least we know we are not dealing with Lakisdoreans now."

  "True, it must be Kana's men then."

  The sounds of a rock falling down the side of the cliff made them all whirl around and face the passageway. It bounced a few times before falling on the ground in the centre of the path, a puff of chalk rising as it landed.

  "Or maybe not," General Wray said with a grin. "Men, assume defensive positions."

  The response was immediate; Vashna's men assembled into orderly rows and readied their weapons. One minute they were milling around and stretching their sore legs and the next they were l
ined up and ready for action. Men came forward and retrieved the horses. Vashna preferred to fight on his feet.

  For a moment all that could be heard were the gulls. Rora's breath, Vashna thought. The calm before the storm. His heart thumped against his chest. He drew his sword and enjoyed the weight in his hand. This is what he was made for; this is what he excelled at. General Wray issued a command and the first line moved up alongside him and Vashna. Benossa had moved to the left flank and Colck to the right. Narch would have normally positioned himself in the centre of the troops. Vashna wondered who would command his men now, perhaps Vashna should have overseen that process but it was too late for such thoughts. He could not worry about that now.

  The silence dragged on until Vashna was on the verge of doubting his instincts and then he heard the distant shriek of battle cries, and the sounds of hundreds of boots thudding on the chalk path reverberated off the cliff walls. The horses whinnied in fright as they were led away. Hundreds of gulls who had been roosting on the cliffs now took to the sky to join others. The sky was filled with beating wings.

  "Arrows," General Wray shouted and Vashna heard dozens of strings being pulled taut.

  "We wait for them to come out of the passage way. We don’t want to be hit by any rocks The Lakisdoreans won't care if they kill their own as long as they kill us as well," Vashna said. General Wray grunted. He did not have to be told but Vashna always felt better for issuing the simplest instructions anyway.

  The first of the warriors emerged from around the bend. Fury was etched on their faces, curved swords raised as they ran. They were bare-chested and already caped in white from the cloud of chalk that accompanied them. They were all Lakisdoreans, not a single Shangonite amongst them. Vashna felt a tinge of disappointment but then figured the Shangonites could still be concealed amongst the cliffs.

  Come on you piss smelling armpits, he thought. Adrenalin coursed through him making his arms tremble.

  "Let us show these bastards what happens when they invade our soil and destroy our homes," Vashna shouted out to his men. A roar erupted behind him which sent a frisson of excitement down his spine. "Strong hearts! Focused minds!"

  "Victory!" Five hundred of his men shouted in unison.

  "Fire," General Wray shouted and arrows flew over their heads.

  Vashna had seen the impact of a volley of arrows scores of times before, it never ceased to amaze him. This time it seemed as if the Lakisdoreans had sprinted into one of the cliff walls. One second they were hurtling towards Vashna and the next they were stopped in their tracks and knocked to their feet. They span, collapsed, turned and folded as the arrows found their mark. At this short range and with no armour most of them died instantly. Those behind the front runners hurdled their fallen brethren without giving them a second thought. The next volley of arrows took this lot as they landed. They fell back onto those they had just jumped.

  The third wave made it a little further before they were scythed down. An unlucky seagull fell from the sky as an arrow lanced through its body. Vashna waited impatiently for the Lakisdoreans to reach him. He bounced on his toes ready to pounce. One Lakisdorean ran far ahead of the others. He had somehow made it through all the arrows. He puffed his cheeks heavily as he ran, his pot belly swaying with each step. His pony tail which grew from the top of his head had come loose so that strands of hair flopped down in front of his eyes.

  "You or me? General Wray said.

  "Me," Vashna replied.

  He waited until the Lakisdorean closed the last ten yards before springing to action. The Lakisdorean held his scimitar aloft and screamed; he was all menace and no technique. There were only two attacks he could do at that speed: either chop down at Vashna's head or slice horizontally at his neck. Either attack was easy to telegraph and was too slow. The Lakisdorean had not expected Vashna to move forward to meet him. The Warlord moved quickly and thrust his sword out at the enemy’s neck. The Lakisdorean could not adjust in time and ran head first into the blade, impaling himself. Vashna loosened his grip on his sword allowing the weapon to bear most of the impact. His shoulder barged the man to slow him down and then shoved him away, withdrawing the blade in the process.

  Vashna had been in many battles and had quickly discovered that no battle was ever the same. There were times when he seemed invincible, scything down the opposition as if they were no more than pells in the practice yard; there were times when he spent the whole fight defending his life and lasting through blind luck and the intervention of others. Greatness was not defined by how many people you killed, but by how many people you survived.

  As the vanguard of snarling faces surged towards him, Vashna let out his own battle cry. His voice squeaked and it was far from intimidating but such things were not important in battle. As long as you generated any kind of noise that is all you needed. He singled out a warrior and pointed his sword at him as he ran. The man responded by raising his own blade. The two met and the impact of steel against steel jarred the Warlord's arm. Vashna felt the pain vibrate up his arm before he twisted his body away and swung the weapon again. The warrior was equal to the attack and deflected the blow. The two were separated as other bodies got in the way. Vashna looked for his next opponent but found himself surrounded by his own men. They hacked and grunted as they struggled to break through the enemy. He caught a glimpse of Benossa dealing a fatal blow; a fountain of blood erupting to the sky like a geyser. Another of his men folded in two as a blade was jammed into his stomach. Vashna looked to take his place but was beaten to it by another Yurisdorian who avenged his fallen friend.

  Vashna growled in frustration, feeling helpless. He was pumped up on adrenaline with no outlet to unleash his aggression. A Lakisdorean swung at one of his men; a man called Pardal who Vashna recalled had two kids and a pretty wife. Pardal ducked and Vashna took advantage of the enemy's exposed arm and hacked at it. The warrior cried out in pain before Pardal ended his life.

  A cheer was heard and more of Vashna's men pushed forward placing themselves in between Vashna and the enemy. He bounced on his feet ready to strike but there were no targets. The Lakisdoreans fought well but they were no match for Vashna's men who were eager to fight and probably felt for the first time in months they were fighting on the correct side.

  The battle was frantic but ended soon after it began. The enemy were few and would have held the pass if they had remained concealed and in their lofty position. Their pride had seen them lose their advantage and as a result their lives. The Yurisdorians cleaved through the remaining men and then suddenly stopped when it was clear there was no one else to kill.

  Vashna wiped the blood from his blade and thrust it in his scabbard, annoyed. He knew he should be grateful at the ease of victory but all he felt was dissatisfied. He looked at his men and realised that many of his men felt the same. They stood there panting but looking eagerly at the pass as if willing more fighters to emerge so they could sate their thirst.

  One man! He had killed one man, and that man had not been Kana. So where did that leave him in regards to the Prince? Could he return to Lilyon? No not yet, he needed to make sure Prandor was still alive. If he could free the Warlord and persuade him to join the conflict then surely the other Warlords would be appeased.

  Suddenly a dull rumble could be heard. Rocks fell from the cliff walls and bounced down off the sides making the ground vibrate.

  "Form ranks," General Wray shouted as he moved to stand by Vashna. The men obeyed ready to engage again if necessary.

  The rumbling grew louder as the Yurisdorians withdrew to the same positions they had held only half an hour before. Archers readied their bows and placed arrows in the ground before them. More stones fell from the cliffs as the rocks seemed to shake. As the noise grew louder still, it sounded like the waterfalls at Lilyon. Vashna ran his tongue over his bottom lip and withdrew his sword. Were these new arrivals Lakisdoreans, Shangonites, or the army from Wildecliffe Shore? Were any of those options friendly? If they wer
e Wildecliffe Shore men, he would have to rely on his wits to persuade them that he was now an ally. It was not something he relished. Speaking with a blade was easier than with his mouth.

  Seconds later several men rounded the corner of the pass on horseback. The banners of Wildecliffe Shore depicted a purple falcon on grey cliffs. Vashna recognised Prandor at the front of the men. The Warlord sat straight-backed and proud astride his horse. He wore bronze armour which reflected the sun. His visor was up which Vashna figured was a good sign. The persuading, it would seem, would have to start sooner rather than later. As Prandor rode nearer, Vashna could see the man had aged. His face was covered in lines and the man had shaved his beard to leave grey stubble. The beard had been a brilliant red the last time the two Warlords’ had met.

  "Lower your weapons men," Vashna shouted. Prandor pulled the reins on his horse signalling it to halt. His men did the same, filtering out of the pass to stand alongside him in a row. "So, you have decided to join us at last."

  Prandor dismounted. He flicked his head to one side as if to stretch the muscles in his neck. "Truth be told. I was not sure if you were them or us."

  Vashna smiled. Sometimes persuading was easy! "Truth be told, for a while we were not sure either."

  Chapter 17

  Jensen clenched his fingers to a fist and then released them. He held them out and watched as the trembling continued. Irritated, he rammed his hand into his pocket and sighed. He hunched his shoulders and drew his knees up to his chest and glared at the sand. It was the only position that he was comfortable in considering he was tied to a post by a rope around his waist.