Only Stones Remain (Ballad of Frindoth Book 4)

by Rob Donovan

  “It is not what I want to do but I am not sure we have any choice,” Tulber said. His voice was quiet and Tatanya felt that the Warlord of Brimsgrove really did regret his words.

  “I did not come here to roll over and die,” Hamsun said. The great Warlord had his back to Tatanya but she could see the knot of muscles in his neck as he tensed.

  “Quite right too my friend,” the Prince said. “My legacy will not be to concede my throne and subject my Kingdom to the whims of oppressors and monsters.”

  “So, you have a plan beyond the ones we have discussed?” Tulber asked. “I am not trying to be obtuse your highness but this looks like one battle against impossible odds too far.”

  "Didn't they say the same thing at the Basin?" the Prince asked.

  Tulber shook his head in disbelief. "The force we face now dwarfs the opposition at the Basin."

  "Yes it does. Maybe three times as much and ten times as deadly. But at the Basin the odds were as much against us as they are now. It seemed a hopeless situation. We were going up against the great Vashna and Cordane's pet Stasiak. Now neither of those two opposes us. They may even fight on our side. I am not saying we can win this war but I am confident in our ability. I am confident in our hearts for they are pure and we only wish to obtain our freedom. Theirs are black hearts full of evil thoughts. Sometimes evil triumphs but not always. Every one of you is a seasoned Warlord; you train your men well. Vashna and Prandor may not be here but they may join us. Marybeth may not be here but I do not believe she has deserted us. She has gone for help and I believe she will deliver it."

  "We cannot base our defence on maybes and uncertainties," Calloway said. The tall Warlord of Aselina looked less convinced than before the Prince had started talking.

  "Of course we can't. But we can hope and hope is a powerful thing. It can put courage in a person's heart when it looks to be filled with despair. I look around this table and I see doubt. I see body language that screams defeat before we even lift our swords or battle axes. If your men see that from their Warlord than we truly do not stand a chance.

  I mentioned the battle of the Basin because we felt despair then yet we triumphed. Only a few months ago it was felt the Gloom could not be defeated yet my father and his knights travelled to the Calipion Range and slayed the beast. Since then, we have been regularly killing Glooms. A few Knights and members of the Order have even travelled to their realm and survived. Can you even imagine that? A land full of Glooms yet three people still managed to walk out?

  We may doubt ourselves, we may bicker about our plans. But no one will leave this table whilst I am King and think of conceding to Cordane. There is always a road to victory. There is always a way to triumph."

  Tatanya almost clapped her hands at the Prince's speech. Her eyes filled with tears with pride. This is what the bard's stories were all about: speeches that galvanised men so they were victorious at the end of the day; Men cornered yet still emerging triumphant against insurmountable odds and impervious monsters being slain. She was here and she was witnessing such an event, despite the terror she faced. Despite all she had endured, she felt a frisson of excitement run up her spine. She reached for Jacquard's hand and squeezed it hard when she found it. It was clammy as if the King was nervous watching his son command the room. She rubbed the King's arm and he patted her hand. Only months before it was Jacquard that ran this war council. It was he who listened to the bickering and made the decisions to decide the fate of Frindoth. Now, not only had he been displaced, his opinion was no longer considered worthy. He had been relegated from the council and shoved in a room to wallow in his self-pity and to wonder about his sanity. It was not right but part of Tatanya knew it was the King's wish as well. Some of the Warlords would have accepted him back on the war council. They may have even welcomed his experience and wisdom more than his son’s.

  The Warlords around the table did not seem to share the Prince's optimism however. They may have sat up a little straighter but they were still sceptical; none more so than Tulber. The Warlord stroked his goatee and looked at the other Warlords aghast, waiting for them to question the Prince. When they did not he threw his hands in the air theatrically. "That is all very well. But do you have a plan?"

  The Prince smiled. "As it happens I do."

  Tulber looked surprised; a wry smile ghosted on Unger's lips whilst Calloway took a sip of his wine his hand shaking slightly. Tatanya could not see Hamsun's expression as his back was to her but it was Grath that made her gasp. He was looking at the slit where Tatanya and the King were looking through; a knowing look on his face. She could have sworn he was staring straight into her eyes.

  "Please, your highness. We would all like to hear it," he said.

  Chapter 19

  Once, when they were camped in the Calipion range with the snow swirling around them and the wind biting, Marybeth had recalled her visit to the Marshes of Night. Like the rest of the party, Cody had been enthralled by her story. He had travelled all over Frindoth and seen some outlandish sights, but the idea of a mysterious chamber concealed amongst the dank swamps captured his imagination.

  Marybeth had told them of narrow escapes from mud which could swallow you, a deadly encounter with an assassin, a room littered with traps and then of course there had been the Custodians - creatures so fantastical that Cody could barely imagine them.

  It was the stuff of legend and Cody had felt a little envious that he had not been there to experience the adventure. Janna had been intrigued too but when Cody insisted she was not to accompany him but was to remain in the security of Lilyon, she did not protest too much. The girl was damaged and he sensed she didn’t really care what happened to her. She had been well looked after since they arrived in Lilyon, but he was not sure leaving Janna in the location the war was likely to take place was the wisest of choices.

  Now as his legs sank so deep into the bog that the muddy water overflowed into his boots he realised how much detail Marybeth had left out of the story. He dragged one leg out of the mud and cried out when it came free of the boot which nestled contently in the mud. He bent down and pulled the boot free, making a squelching sound and then spent the next few minutes balancing on one leg as he attempted to put the boot back on and hold the reins of the stallion Althalos had loaned him.

  Cody got as far as putting his foot inside the boot before his balance deserted him and he fell on his arse with a splash. Mud splattered against his cheeks and the cold sensation of water soaking through material spread down the backs of his legs. The stallion whinnied loudly as if laughing at the man who had ridden him so hard over the past few days.

  Cody jerked on the reins out of annoyance and the horse stamped a hoof splashing more mud over Cody.

  “Nice,” Cody said wiping the mud from his face and then shaking it off his fingers. “Silverspeck would never have been so rude.”

  The horse snorted. Obviously, it did not like Cody’s constant reference to a superior specimen. Cody let the reins fall and the stallion immediately turned away and wandered towards more solid footing.

  “Can’t say I blame you,” he said. It was pointless trying to persuade the horse to travel through the swamp. The horse was stubborn and the whole exercise was slowing him down. Why had he busted a gut to get to the Marshes of Night when all he was going to do was creep towards Marybeth when he got here? He was better off tying the horse to a tree and continuing alone.

  Decision made, he got to his feet and stumbled towards the stallion. It was an impressive animal with a beautiful chestnut coat. It had been well-trained, immediately adapting to Cody as they left Lilyon. He had known horses that were obedient but became skittish at the first sign of danger. This horse had taken everything in his stride, from the hustle and bustle of people trying to enter the White City to the difficult terrain they had faced. It had not even flinched at the thunderstorm last night.

  Cody identified a solid looking tree and then grabbed the reins. The horse neighed softly and
the Truth Knight hesitated. What was the point of tying the animal up? Even if he found Marybeth the horse would not be able to carry the pair of them back. One would have to walk alongside the animal at all times. In that case, they might as well both walk and find some new horses at the nearest town.

  He patted the horse’s flank and thanked the animal for getting him there. The horse tolerated this but turned away the second Cody dropped the reins. “So much for a tender farewell,” he said.

  He turned and looked at the bog before him; tall reeds and rushes swayed between the pools, in patches they were different in height where the ground slumped in places. The grass that grew was brown and looked like it could die any day. Trees sprouted up intermittently, the trunks hollow, and only slim branches with green buds at the tips indicated that anything grew on them. Surrounding the pools, large ferns drooped; their spindly leaves the only thing of beauty in the depressing landscape. Rising a foot above it all a thin veil of mist rolled over the surface, patrolling the marsh and snuffing out any signs of life.

  In the distance those murky green ferns and grey mist became black as the Marshes of Night truly began. Towering trees with gnarled and twisted trunks blocked the sunlight. People were said to have got lost amongst the pools and ferns. No one knew how wide the Marshes of Night were but it was generally agreed one did not enter unless it was absolutely necessary. Cody recalled two men in a tavern once arguing over whether the Marshes of Night was really a marsh or a swamp. It was clear neither man had been there but they argued their corner as if they lived there.

  Cody scraped off a thick dollop of mud from his back side and then checked his sword was free from any muck. It was a futile task.

  He was searching for Marybeth to warn her the Desolate King sought her out, but if he found either of them there was little he could do with his sword if it came to a physical contest. Both possessed powers he could not possibly understand let alone emulate. He shuddered as he recalled the magical contest between Marybeth and an insane Mondorlous, the pair had literally brought the ruins of the Stones of Sorrow around them. Taking a deep breath, he headed for the dark marshes. He had put it off long enough.

  As he stepped inside the heavily covered area it was not the total darkness that surprised him (he had been expecting that, although it was still an awesome occurrence). No, it was the drop in temperature which shocked Cody the most. One minute the evening was mild and the next he was shivering as though someone had thrown snow over him. After walking a few dozen steps, he looked over his shoulder just to reassure himself that there was still light in the world; he could see the twilight but it seemed to dim fast.

  He lit a torch and continued forward. Something scurried in the branches ahead and then leapt from one tree to the next. The flame from the torch was next to useless; it illuminated no more than two feet in front of him. If anything attacked him he would have little time to react. Cody wished he had questioned Marybeth more about her journey through the marshes. He recalled her saying something about the three moons shining through the canopy of leaves but where he walked there was no such break in the leaves overhead.

  An animal barked in the distance; a fox probably but he could not be sure. Why had the marshes suddenly come to life? Before he had entered the marshes everything had been still, tranquil almost.

  He turned back towards the darkness and spluttered as he walked into a spider’s web. He clawed at the gossamer material in disgust and wiped it against his leather jerkin. For the next few seconds he scratched at his hair imagining the spider had jumped onto him and was plotting its revenge for having its creation ruined.

  An animal broke from the bushes to his right and he drew his sword ready to fight. Nothing attacked though, whatever it was scurried in the other direction to leave Cody panting in the darkness; his heart beating fast. How was he supposed to navigate the Marshes of Night? In another hour he imagined he would be a gibbering wreck.

  He crept forward concentrating on making as little noise as possible and trying to head in a straight line. It was difficult, with no sky or visible landmark to help him navigate, for all Cody knew he could be walking around in circles. At first, he used the flame on his torch to move forward by travelling in the opposite direction to the way the flames blew. The breeze was too strong however and meant the flames constantly fluttered.

  Cody then relied on looking round at his footprints and then judging he was walking straight. After five minutes he knew this was idiotic and he was just as likely to veer off to the left or right as to walk a straight line.

  “Ah this is stupid,” he said out loud. He stopped and looked around him. There was not the faintest light so at least he had walked away from the entrance to the Marshes of the Night. The Truth Knight closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He had never feared the dark but that did not stop the rising sense of panic he felt. He feared not being in control. There was no reason why it was important to walk in a straight-line other than it gave him a sense of purpose; something to hold onto whilst he headed towards danger.

  He realised how futile this obsession was. When he was young he recalled a festival in his village. One of the games that brought much hilarity to the crowd was blindfolding people and telling them to walk three hundred yards in a straight line from post to post. People would try one at a time convinced it could not be that hard, but not one person ever made it to the other post. Most wandered off to the sides and ended up crashing into the crowds. One poor woman actually started off in the wrong direction and ended up behind the post she started at. The memory made him smile and brought some comfort in the darkness.

  He doused the torch in the wet mud and then stowed it away in his pack. Whether he walked in complete darkness or in very limited light it made little difference especially to his direction or speed. Sighing, he set off again.

  It was roughly another half hour before he stumbled across something interesting. During that time, he had uttered every curse under the sun and his jaw ached where he had clenched his teeth so hard. He had staggered, slipped, squelched and fallen his way across the Marshes of Night. His legs throbbed with the effort of having to lift them out of the boggy ground caked in mud, to take the next step.

  Now in the distance he could see a faint glow. It was a sort of greenish hue against the blackness. Cautiously he moved towards it. The anomaly provided enough adrenalin so that he temporarily forgot the tiredness in his legs.

  As he neared he saw the hue was a shard of moonlight from the Lime moon. A break in the treetops revealed the hulking moon and even a few stars. Cody stood in the light and felt the colour on him. He had seen the moon every night of his life more or less, but never had he appreciated it as much as he did now. It was as if the large moon energised him and he even imagined it warmed him just as the sun would.

  The glow was very dim but compared to the total darkness he had endured for the last hour or so it felt like daylight.

  Looking down he saw he resembled a pig that had wallowed in its sty. He was covered in thick mud and grime. He scooped it off his clothes and flicked the oily muck away. He knew it would make no difference for long as he would be covered again in a matter of minutes, but it felt good to liberate himself if only a moment.

  The Marshes of Night suddenly lit up in the distance as a purple flash illuminated the gnarly trunks and sinister looking vegetation. Cody jumped as a loud crack reverberated around the marshes. His heart thudded in his chest.

  Another flash of light, this time orange and accompanied by an even louder bang. Cody knew instantly what the lights were. He had seen them before in the Stones of Sorrow when Mondorlous and Marybeth fought.

  Cody sprinted towards the next light, shielding his eyes as it temporarily blinded him. He closed his eyes and could still see the colours. He was too late. He had come to warn Marybeth and he had arrived too late. The Desolate King had taken her by surprise and may have even killed her already.

  Anger coursed through him. He mig
ht not be able to match the Desolate King’s level of power but that would not stop him trying to kill him. He slipped in the mud and almost lost his balance. Only his sword serving as a walking stick kept him upright.

  The Marshes of Light was filled with light and thunderous bangs now. Cody took comfort in the fact that this meant Marybeth must still be alive and engaged in a contest with her former Order member, Jaegel.

  Cody had paid little attention to Jaegel at the Ritual of the Stones. There had been uproar when he had suddenly been seized and betrayed by Iskandar and Mondorlous and forced to the gallows. The reasoning behind the sudden decision had been because one of the Stoneholders Jaegel had been sent to accompany to the Ritual had died before he got to her and therefore someone had to take her place at the Ritual of the Stones. Cody had felt sorry for Jaegel but also thought any respectable member of the Order must have known this would be the case and Jaegel’s ignorance of the rules was his own fault. Cody had asked Marybeth about it once and if she knew about the rule. She didn’t but said it was part of the Order’s responsibility in the Ritual of the Stones.

  Any sympathy Cody had felt towards Jaegel had immediately vanished when during the chaos following the Ritual of the Stones the former member of the Order had refused to make his own escape by assisting in rescuing a girl who had been surrounded by fire. Cody, the Prince and another man called Frendel had saved the girl, with Frendel suffering massive burns in the process and possibly paying with his life.

  A woman screamed in agony as a jet of blue shot from the darkness and landed just ahead of Cody. He was about five hundred yards away from the action but it seemed so much further. Wildlife hopped, skipped and flew past Cody desperate to get away from the terrifying outbreak of violence.

  Cody ignored them and ran blindly forward. He knew he ran the risk of knocking himself out at any moment by colliding head first with a tree or twisting his ankle by getting caught in the rushes but he did not care. His only thought was to reach and aid Marybeth.