Only Stones Remain (Ballad of Frindoth Book 4)

by Rob Donovan

  Just as he thought the three of them would plummet to their deaths, the Custodian unfurled its body. The Gloom let out a final mew of despair as the Custodian's spikes retracted back into its fur and left the Gloom. Cody blinked at the sudden brightness and then cried out when he realised how near to the ground they were. The Custodian flapped frantically and Cody's shoulders were nearly jerked from their sockets at the sudden change of direction. The whole encounter could not have lasted longer than a few seconds but it was enough to have taken them away from the battlefield.

  It was a bizarre sight, below them on the ground more men than Cody had ever seen were gathered in one place yet none of them moved, whilst above them a fierce battle raged on. The Glooms and Custodians dove swooped and barrelled towards each other as they clashed in the sky. Neither creature appeared to have the upper hand and victims from both sides fell to the ground, their bodies splitting open upon impact.

  The non-winged Glooms had now become bored of not being part of the action it seemed, as they advanced towards the suspended men and scythed them down like wheat. Cody felt unbridled anger at their cruelty and lack of remorse as they destroyed the men whose side they were supposed to be on.

  "Get me closer, " Marybeth shouted. Cody had not known where she was and was surprised to see her fly overhead. There was an authority to her voice which brokered no argument. Without Cody having to make the request, the Custodian carrying him followed. The flight was not as smooth as before however and he noticed the membrane of the Custodian's right wing was torn beneath the feathers. He contemplated requesting to be put down, but in truth he wanted to see what Marybeth had planned.

  The witch chanted to herself as her fingers performed a series of complicated gestures. As with Cordane’s magic, a small ball of static energy began to form between her hands. It was predominantly dark blue in colour but light blue streaks swirled within.

  "Let the whoresons have it," Cody said. The Custodian above him made a clicking sound as if in agreement.

  Marybeth’s chants became more rapid until Cody could barely detect any words in what she was saying. The wind around them seemed to increase and whipped across the Truth Knight's face, making his eyes water. They reached the battlefield and raced towards the centre of the action. Marybeth was hunched over, cradling the balls of energy to her stomach like a mother protecting her unborn child. With a sudden shout, she flung her arms out and dropped the azure ball towards the statues below. Like Cordane's spell, the ball burst into a powdery cloud and fell upon the men in a fine mist.

  The effect was immediate, the frozen men were free as if nothing had happened and Cody whooped in delight that such destruction could be overridden. His joy was short lived however, as he watched man battle man oblivious to what they had just endured. The Glooms, who had been decimating the defenceless warriors with impunity only seconds before, now re-joined Cordane’s army and fought by their side against the Prince’s army.

  Chapter 26

  Vashna witnessed it all and the fury coursed through his body. Beside him General Wray clenched the reigns of his horse until his knuckles turned white. Only a short time ago, Vashna had designs on invading Lilyon and ending the ineffective reign of King Jacquard, now the gaping hole in the White City's magnificent walls filled him with a sense of injustice and sadness. It was not the devastating damage to the iconic city which angered him though, nor was it the crippling fear of knowing Breshanel was inside the structure, nor was it the way the Glooms attacked their own side with such impunity, no, what angered Vashna the most was the cowardly method Cordane had once again deployed to attempt to the win the war.

  Turning men to stone at Crestfall had never sat well with Vashna and his men but until now he had never seen the effect it had. When Cordane had cast the spell, Vashna had been leagues from Hamsun's castle and only heard about the cowardly act from scouts. To see brave men reduced to a stone prison and then shattered to pieces left him furious.

  "Those men don't deserve that," General Wray said spitting out the words as if they were poison on his lips.

  "No," Vashna replied. He too struggled to find words. Regardless of which side they fought on, the men fought honestly and honourably. If they were to die then it should be whilst they at least had a chance to deflect the death blow.

  They watched as the Glooms fought furiously in the sky against the strange the white winged creatures. Vashna had seen many sights in his life, but none matched the aerial combat he watched now. When had his world altered so irrevocably?

  From high in the sky a purple orb shot from one of the Custodians and grew above the statuesque men below.

  What now? Vashna thought. He stared transfixed at the orb, struggling to understand it. The white winged beasts appeared to be fighting the Glooms, why would they cast another spell against the defenceless men?

  "It's the witch!" a man behind exclaimed. Vashna did not recognise the voice but saw now the tiny figure of the witch being carried by the ermine beast. She was slumped in its talons as if sapped of all energy. He shivered at the sight of her. Cordane terrified him but he had heard this witch was just as powerful.

  The orb grew to the size of a small wagon and then burst in a cloud of powder and smoke over the men. It descended on them like fog and the result was instantaneous as rigid men became fluid once more and resumed their war.

  "It is like nothing had happened," General Wray whispered. It was true; the men carried on as if time had merely paused. All sympathy Vashna had felt towards the men he had once led in a rebellion evaporated. How could they not see who they fought alongside? How could they fail to notice their fallen friends at the hands of the Glooms?

  At the edge of the woods Prandor and his army of men looked on. Vashna could just about see the look of horror on the Warlord's face. Good, Vashna thought, now you know the true nightmare the rest of the land has been facing.

  The two armies were divided out of trust issues rather than strategy. Vashna had decided it was best to attack from the lofty position atop Capitoline hill where he could survey the battle and attack the army of usurpers from behind. Prandor acknowledged the wisdom in this scheme but had proposed he attacked from behind but to the left. This would prevent the enemy fleeing if either his men or Vashna's were successful. It was a weak argument and they both knew it. As good as Vashna's men were, they had been severely depleted and the chances of his forces or Prandor’s forcing their enemy to flee were remote.

  Still Vashna could not blame Prandor's reluctance to trust him. Up until recently Vashna had led the opposition which had penned in the folk of Wildecliffe Shore.

  "Are we going to do this or not?" Benossa growled from behind.

  For once General Wray did not rebuke his captain's impudence. A short glare was the only form of scolding Benossa received.

  Vashna answered the question by drawing his sword and holding it aloft.

  "Are you going to make a speech?" General Wray asked.

  "Not this time."

  "It could be the last time."

  Vashna shot him a look of annoyance. He hated any negative thoughts on the battlefield prior to battle but General Wray only had eyes for the scene below. For the first time, his General looked petrified and Vashna was reminded this was a war that would be very difficult to win. The Glooms were too strong and whilst they had the witch on their side, the opposition had Cordane. For a moment Vashna hesitated but then he saw Prandor had also drawn his sword and was preparing to charge into the fray. No Warlord would ever beat him into battle.

  He kicked the flanks of his horse and spurred him down the hill, yelling an intelligible cry as he did so. The visor on his helmet snapped shut limiting his vision but not before he was sure Prandor was leading his men onwards. The roar of his Yurisdorians turned his blood cold and caused his heart to thunder against his chest. Despite it all, the anger, the injustice, the fear he managed to raise a smile. This is where he was most at home. The moment he tested his skill and heart again
st that of another person. The finality of kill or be killed. Out of the periphery of his vision he saw one of his riders had overtaken him. Normally, he would make a note of the man who overtook him and have him stripped of his rank. Not only was he undermining his warlord but he was also creating too big a gap between the riders and the infantry. However, today was not a day for recriminations, the hill was steep and Vashna found it difficult to reign in his horse as it galloped towards the enemy.

  The eastern usurpers heard the rallying cry behind them and now turned to face their new enemy. Vashna revelled at their surprised expressions and the frantic way they tried to form some semblance of defence. They were like bleating lambs and he was a vicious wolf. The battle lust consumed him and in his immediate future he could perceive nothing but blood and slaughter. An arrow whistled passed his head and he heard the startled cry of one of his men as it found its mark. Another glanced off his helmet and knocked his head to the side. For a moment his ears rang and his vision darkened but he shook his head and his sight cleared. He took another arrow on his shield, the hollow thunk of the arrow jarring his arm. He snapped the shaft in two with his sword. "Sechourn," he yelled and singled out the attacker whose life he would take first, a young man, with a long face and smooth cheek bones coloured as if he’d been slapped. He looked as if he should be performing on a stage rather than on a battlefield. He gripped an axe in both hands and readied it as Vashna approached. The opponent’s uncertain look disgusted him. He wanted to fight real men not cowards.

  As Vashna neared, another warrior moved in front of the axe wielder. A relative perhaps? Maybe a friend or lover? This man had pock marked skin and wild hair. He growled at Vashna and taunted him. That was more like it. This man at least seemed more of a challenge. Vashna raised his sword and swung downwards meeting the man's axe. His horse kicked the coward in the face, sending him sprawling with an effeminate scream. The man with the axe twisted the head and pulled on the weapon almost yanking the sword from Vashna's hand. He held on to it though and thrust his shield into the man's face hearing the crunch of bone and cartilage break with the impact.

  And so, the killing began. Foe after foe appeared before Vashna and one by one he vanquished them all. At some stage, he leapt from his horse onto Meadowmead men and landed in a heap on the floor. He was on his feet in seconds, bending low to spear a warrior in the stomach and then sending another over his shoulder as they charged at Vashna. General Wray was by his side the entire time, slaying without remorse. Men fell and were replaced by the next one, Vashna catching glimpses of them. Their faces may have been different; young, old, dark, tanned, ginger haired, bearded, but the expressions were all the same - fear and anger entwined.

  He was aware of the war in the sky raging on, but did not give it much thought. It was beyond his control and therefore not worth his time. If he was to be turned to stone then so be it. A hatchet whistled passed his head and somehow missed the mass of men around him. There was always one coward who tried to kill from distance. Vashna whirled around and looked to see who had thrown the weapon. There were some Meadowmead soldiers encountering his own but they looked fully engaged. Had one of his own men tried to kill him? He pushed the thought aside as soon as it entered his mind. He trusted his men implicitly and even if he had cause for concern such thoughts could not be permitted on the battlefield. He needed to remain focused on the task at hand. Pure heart, focused mind, Victory!

  He noticed his men look up and past him. A few lifted their visors and he watched as their skin drained of all colour. Their mouths fell open and he was ashamed to see one or two take a step back and hide themselves behind their brethren. Slowly he turned to see what had caught their attention and reduced his brave men to abject fear.

  A Gloom towered over all the men. As it drew itself up to its full height it stretched to nearly nine feet tall. Wings unfurled behind it brushing men aside. Its head was wolf like but with hardly any fur. It extended its jaws; Vashna shivered at the sight of the menacing, yellow razor-like teeth. The lower jaw hyperextended so that the creature's mouth was wide enough to easily fit around a man's head and that was exactly what it did. In a sudden strike, no more than a blur, the Gloom's jaws clamped down over a man's head and severed it at the neck. There was an awful ripping sound as the head was sundered from the rest of the body, followed by the sickening crunch as teeth snapped together. Blood and brain matter spluttered from the sides of the Gloom's mouth as the head was consumed. The poor victim's body stood on its own for a few seconds as if it could not quite believe what had happened and then toppled over.

  Vashna's men moved away from the Gloom as did the men purportedly to be on its side. Men attacked men with renewed vigour, hoping that if they were engaged in combat the Gloom might ignore them. From somewhere over to the left, another Gloom wreaked havoc, as men flew through the air to the accompaniment of agonised cries. Vashna had never backed down from a fight before and stood his ground. The Gloom lifted its mouth to the sky and swallowed the last of the head and the remnants could be seen bulging inside the Gloom's neck as it disappeared down its throat. It growled and then sniffed the air as if sensing Vashna standing defiantly ten yards away.

  The Gloom looked around until it found Vashna. Its nostrils flared and its lips pulled back in a snarl. If Vashna did not know better he would have said the Gloom was grinning at him. His blood ran cold and a tingle went up his spine. A broken body flew through the air between them, launched by another Gloom. It served as a reminder of how superior the beings were but still Vashna did not back down. The Gloom sauntered towards Vashna, involuntarily snapping at a warrior who came too close, and crushing the man's collarbone through his armour. The man howled in pain and fell to his knees, where his opponent finished him off by plunging a sword into his heart.

  The Gloom's wings stretched above its head and then fell again to the ground with a thump sending a shock wave along the ground. Vashna could feel the effects of the vibration long after it had passed He appraised the Gloom, trying to decide how best to attack it. It walked like a man and had two powerful arms which moved independently from its wings and carried no weapon. Each hand bore vicious looking talons. Attempting to attack the Gloom's head would be too difficult and too exhausting. His best bet was to hack away at the creature's legs and hope to reduce its height. He would have to rely on his skill with his shield to protect him from the Gloom's jaws. It was a foolish notion given what the Gloom had just done to the two men, but it was all he had. He would have to be swift and use the shield as a last resort.

  Two men fell against him entwined in a death struggle. Vashna shoved them away and plunged his sword in the neck of the enemy. He wondered where General Wray had gone and wished his faithful friend was by his side now. The Gloom bellowed and began to stomp towards Vashna. The Warlord shifted his sword in his hand for a better grip and raised his shield. He was not going to die without at least inflicting some kind of wound on the beast. The Gloom pulled its head back and pursed its lips over black gums. Suddenly a jet of green liquid was fired towards Vashna. He raised his shield and lowered his head instinctively. The substance hit the shield and Vashna heard a fizzing noise. He opened his eyes and saw a large hole in the centre of his shield which was gradually getting bigger. Smoke drifted from his bubbling shield as the corrosive substance ate through the wood. He threw the shield down in disgust. A drop landed on his arm and immediately melted the armour. He felt the sting on his arm but resisted the urge to cry out; instead he sucked in air through his teeth and faced the Gloom.

  "For Vashna," someone cried behind him. Several of his men raced passed and attacked the Gloom. The first to reach the creature was propelled away with the swipe of a large forearm. Vashna was forced to duck as the man sailed passed him. The second managed to at least get a strike in but the Gloom barely acknowledged the blow before it kicked the man, folding him in half and leaving in a crumpled heap. The man’s helmet rolled off to reveal Rishadua, a warrior who had fought by
Vashna's side for a number of years. Rishadua looked back at Vashna and in that moment Vashna saw the man's eyes widen in fear, his last thoughts, more than likely, of his wife and three children. The Gloom stomped on Rishadua's head crushing it and turning the man's mop of blond hair red.

  Two others attacked and this time Vashna did not wait to see their fate. He rushed with them. One of the Gloom's wings swiped at him and he rolled underneath the leathery skin. One if his men did the same but the other was not quick enough. Vashna heard him cry out and then the man's screams faded. Vashna hacked at the Gloom's legs whilst he still rolled. The steel bit into flesh but only a little. It was like chopping at a young tree. The other man who had attacked with him fared no better, his strike sliding off the leg and landing in the dirt.

  Vashna dove to the side as the Gloom stomped down, its foot missing Vashna by inches. He lashed out and was relieved when he severed talons from the Gloom's feet. The Gloom howled and punched Vashna. He lost his vision as he slumped to the ground. He shook his head and rolled instinctively anticipating the Gloom's next attack. He was not prepared to die like Rishadua. As his vision cleared, he spat blood from his mouth and was not surprised to see one of his teeth amongst the glob of blood. He probed the gap in his mouth and gagged as blood flowed over his tongue.

  A blood-curdling scream filled the air and he looked up to see the other warrior who had attacked the Gloom clutching his face as it melted into his helmet. Steam rose from the man as he fell backwards and the familiar fizzing noise could be heard as the man went silent. Vashna prided himself on knowing most of his men and yet a few had died in a matter of seconds and he had no idea who they were because of their armour. As he got unsteadily to his feet, he felt a hand on his shoulder whirled around raising his sword, not sure if the hand was friend or foe.