Only Stones Remain (Ballad of Frindoth Book 4)

by Rob Donovan

  He choked out a laugh when he saw General Wray staring back at him. His friend had lost his helmet and one side of his face was smeared with blood. He had an ugly looking gash on one of his temples, but the wound did not seem to bother the man.

  "You cannot defeat it," General Wray said.

  "Says who?" Vashna replied. He knew his friend was right but he was not prepared to admit it.

  "Me. And if you do, it is just one Gloom. There are several."

  Vashna looked about him. The Glooms had well and truly entered the fray now. Everywhere he looked men were being slaughtered. Shadows from the war in the skies flew around. He turned back to the Gloom nearby and watched as powerful jaws clasped down on a man's waist and lifted him in the air. The Gloom shook its head like a dog before discarding the man like a toy into a crowd of others. A Meadowmead warrior took advantage of the distraction and attacked. General Wray parried the blow and Vashna dispatched him with a thrust. It felt good to remind himself that he was not completely hopeless in this conflict.

  "Please my lord. Be smart," General Wray said.

  Vashna smiled weakly at his friend. "There is no smart move now. This is it. All or nothing." With that he charged once again at the Gloom. He had never run at an opponent expecting to die. He always had a certain arrogance in every fight that he would emerge victorious. With the number of victims lying at the Gloom's feet growing and the creature barely registering the few cuts that his men had managed to inflict on it, Vashna knew the chances of him surviving the encounter were slim.

  A Snowlander tried to intervene as he raced towards the Gloom; Vashna parried the man's strike and then punched at the man's face. His fingers found steel and he was satisfied to see the nose piece of the man's helmet bend inwards and cut into the man's face. The Snowlander squealed and whirled away. The Gloom chomped down on a man's skeleton as if it was eating nuts. When it saw Vashna charging, it swiped the remnants of the man from its mouth and snarled.

  Vashna searched in vain for an area of weakness on the canine looking Gloom. Every part of the creature seemed as tough as stone. Vashna was less than sixteen yards from the Gloom; sixteen yards between life and death. The Gloom hocked its neck and a glob of the corrosive venom hurtled towards him. He ducked just in time as it sailed over his head; little droplets landing on his armour and hissing. He cursed at the Gloom. Wasn't it strong enough as it was? There was no reason to use such a poisonous projectile to attack. Vashna skidded to a halt as an idea struck him. He spun around to see where the venom had landed. On the ground the remains of a warrior bubbled and hissed. Without hesitating Vashna dipped the tip of his sword in the substance. It fizzed and began to corrode straight away as smoke sputtered and the steel started to melt. Vashna whirled around to face the Gloom who had closed the gap between them. It thrusts its head towards Vashna and growled. It was the best thing the Gloom could have done and presented the Warlord with the opportunity he needed.

  Vashna hurled his sword towards the beady eyes of the Gloom. The blade, already half disintegrated, crashed into the Gloom's face, wedging itself into the eye socket. The Gloom staggered backwards and clawed at its face. Vashna was pleased to see the familiar steam emanating from the creature's eye. The warlord of Yurisdoria stooped down and retrieved an axe from a fallen foe. He swung it upwards with all his might at the Gloom's armpit. The blade bit into the skin and again the Gloom howled. This time it lashed out and although Vashna saw the blow coming there was little he could do to prevent it. His teeth jarred and his vision darkened as the Gloom's forearm smashed into the side of his body. He was lifted off his feet and landed a few feet away, the air knocked out of lungs.

  He lay groggily on the floor vaguely aware of General Wray attacking the Gloom with some of his men. Not good enough, Vashna thought trying to shake the stars from his eyes. Can't rely on others. He staggered to his feet and swooned as the world swam before him. Gradually the blurred objects in front of him began to sharpen. The large hazy grey shape took the shape of the terrifying Gloom. It looked inferior to the intimidating creature he had just raced towards. One of its arms hung listlessly to its side and both of its wings bore large rents in them. It swiped about blindly because Vashna's strikes had damaged both eyes.

  Vashna groped about for a weapon and found a sword. He charged forward once again and plunged the blade into the Gloom's groin. It folded over whining in agony. Vashna pulled the blade clear with a sickening squelch and then thrust the steel into the Gloom’s throat.

  The effect was immediate; the Gloom lost its footing and made a horrible honking noise akin to a goose. With its one good arm it reached out to the men who were then attacking it, whether for help or whether to kill as many as it could before its life ended, Vashna could not tell. It did not matter; the Gloom was too weak to do either. It collapsed in a heap and was still.

  Vashna planted his sword in the ground and lent heavily on it. He sucked in as much air as he could and was only vaguely aware of the fight carrying on around him. He stared at the prone figure that was the Gloom and shook his head. He had never before defeated so great an enemy and yet this Gloom was only one of many. The number of bodies that lay strewn around him was far too high. Unless something changed and quickly, this war was futile.

  There was a shriek overhead and a shadow fell across him. A winged Gloom that looked like an eagle crossed with an insect was locked in a bitter feud with one of the white creatures. The two spun in the air before crashing into a crowd of warriors. He saw flashes of wings and limbs above the heads of men before they became still. A cheer went up but it was unclear which side profited from their deaths.

  A Shangonite warrior sought to take advantage of Vashna's vulnerable stance and charged at him. Vashna pulled his sword from the ground and batted his attacker away. He was weary but not enough that he could not carry on fighting and certainly not enough that some random man would take his life. He was Vashna, warlord of Yurisdoria and husband to Breshanel. He would not die today.

  Vashna parried a second strike from the Shangonite and sensed the immediate change in his opponent's attitude. The confidence seemed to ooze out of him, as once he realised the element of surprise dissipated, so did the warrior's chances. Sweat poured from the man's face causing the white skull paint to run. Vashna stabbed the man in the gut and saw his eyes widen, the running paint on his cheeks making it look like the warrior was crying. Maybe he was.

  And so, it continued. Enemy after enemy tried to take advantage of a tired Vashna now that he had exhausted himself killing the Gloom. All of them fell until he came face to face with Kana. The warlord of Shangon cleaved his sword into an Easterly Rock man's neck and then waited patiently for Vashna to kill the men around him. Any fatigue Vashna had felt vanished. Anger coursed through his veins at the sight of the warlord. The final image of Moirin with his swollen cheek flashed into his mind, as did the images of his men sliding down into the pit to be devoured by the terrible beasts of Frindoth. He could smell the goose fat used to lubricate their fall, he could hear the screams of terror and then finally the ghastly vision of Moirin's teeth used to make up an arrow, popped into his mind. The warlord of Yurisdoria trembled with rage.

  "You betrayed your honour by killing your guests." Vashna shouted as he pulled his sword free from the stomach of an enemy shoulder.

  "You underestimated me," Kana shouted. There was a desperate whining to his voice as if he couldn't quite believe his path had led him to this moment.

  "No, I always knew you were a coward. A man who backed the winning side no matter what his principles were."

  "If I am a coward, how come I am in the middle of a battle about to face you?"

  Vashna shrugged and stumbled as the two men sought to end each other’s lives. "Maybe you are scared of what the Glooms would do to you if you refused."

  Kana smiled but from the way Kana's eye twitched Vashna could see there was a ring of truth to what he had said. The warlord of Shangon barely looked out of breath.
His face paint was still completely intact and his sword hardly had any blood on it. Vashna had never seen the man fight.

  "You killed my friend and a lot of my men. I avenge them today," Vashna said.

  Kana opened his mouth to reply but Vashna did not give him a chance. He raced towards the Shangonite leader yelling Moirin's name. Kana was slow to react and although he managed to raise his sword, Vashna's strike was too strong; his blade slid down Kana's steel and Vashna felt the satisfying resistance as his weapon bit into the join where thumb met forefinger. Kana yowled in pain and dropped his sword, clasping his injured hand with the other.

  Vashna clucked his tongue in disgust. There was no satisfaction in beating a man such as this. Kana looked up at him and his eyes widened as he realised he had just lost his only defence against Vashna. Even at the end Vashna expected the warlord to demonstrate some form of dignity and raise his chin to embrace death. Instead he fell to his knees and pleaded for his life. How could Moirin be dead when this man still lived? The Tri-moon deities had a warped sense of humour. Vashna could not bear to look at the coward's face any longer. He thrust his blade into the man's throat, withdrew it and then chopped off his head. He watched the head roll away as he breathed heavily.

  There was a thump behind him which caused the ground to shudder. Vashna turned to see a Gloom tower over him. This creature was almost human in appearance. It had a conical shaped head with horns protruding through either side. Fangs emerged, vicious looking, from behind thick lips.

  "I am Xandamon," the Gloom said in a booming voice which seemed to Vashna as if several creatures spoke at once.

  "I do not know who that is," Vashna said raising his sword.

  The Gloom's mouth twisted into a contorted smile. "It does not matter. In a few moments you will not care."

  "You are right about that," Vashna said.

  The Gloom raised his huge jagged blade and then brought it down upon Vashna's with such ferocity that Vashna was surprised his sword did not shatter, but pain shot up his arm and he fell backwards. He knew in that moment that his life was forfeit. Xandemon struck again and it was all Vashna could do to roll out of the way. Xandemon growled in frustration and readied himself to attack again. Vashna stared at the ugly gash the Gloom's blade had left in the mud. It had cleaved a hole at least half a foot deep.

  "Vashna run," Benossa yelled behind him.

  He frowned. He had never run from a fight before and would not shame himself by doing so now. Xandemon attacked again, this time as the two swords clashed Vashna was unable to hold onto his. It fell to the ground as Vashna fell on his backside. He pictured Breshanel watching the encounter from somewhere on the White City walls. He imagined her shoving her fist into her mouth to keep from screaming. He loved her bitterly but he had spent too many months apart from her. Too many months fighting in battles that really didn't matter.

  "Pick up the sword; I will not kill an unarmed man."

  Vashna breathed heavily and shakily retrieved the weapon as he got to his feet. "I did not know you had honour."

  "I have none. I hold contempt for such a weak opponent."

  Vashna surged forward. Words did not often affect him but he had never been called weak before. He rained down blows on Xandemon who blocked them easily; laughing like a father would against his infant son. Off to the side he heard Benossa call out trying to get his attention.

  Xandemon lashed out with a closed fist which Vashna managed to avoid by arching his head away from the blow. If it had connected it would have crushed his nose.

  "Vashna, remember Octown," Benossa shouted.

  For a moment the words confused him and then he realised what his captain meant. In a battle in Octown Vashna had lost his sword and was engaged in a wrestling match with an opponent. Benossa had thrown a sword to him and Vashna had managed to grab it and strike the opponent in one swift movement.

  Xandemon thrust the jagged blade at him. Vashna sidestepped and used his sword to steer the Gloom's blade away from his body. "Now," Vashna yelled. He saw the shadow of the sword in the periphery of his vision. He looked up and caught the weapon and immediately swung it down at the Gloom. For a moment he felt elation as the blade sliced into the Gloom's forearm. The moment was short lived as the blade barely impacted the Gloom's skin. Vashna realised Xandemon had intentionally used his arm as a shield. He looked up at the Gloom and his stomach roiled at the sinister grin that greeted him.

  He felt a sharp pain in his stomach as the Gloom's blade entered his chest. His skin felt on fire as he looked down at the jagged sword. It seemed impossibly big for his chest stretching from his pectoral muscles down to his sternum. The Gloom withdrew the sword and it felt as if someone had pulled a log through him. His vision darkened as he watched his innards sprawl out of him and splatter on the mud.

  Vashna heard Benossa cry out and looked about for General Wray. It did not seem right that his friend would not be at his side at the end. More excruciating pain as Xandemon stabbed him once again. This time the Gloom used his sword as a lever to lift Vashna off his feet and above its body. Vashna tried to grip the blade with his hands, but the world was melting away. He prayed that Breshanel was not witnessing his death. He did not want her to see him like this. Gravity took hold and he slid down the Gloom's blade towards Xandemon’s triumphant face. Vashna did not give the creature the satisfaction of looking into its eyes. Instead he looked at the fallen bodies of the men who had fought so valiantly by his side. Amongst them he saw General Wray; the man could have been asleep save for the small red smudge by his heart.

  The Gloom used its foot to peel Vashna from the sword. He was vaguely aware of the unbearable pain but his body was mostly numb. He saw Xandemon raise his sword a final time and then he knew no more.

  Chapter 27

  King Jacquard poured purple wine from the decanter into a crystal glass. His hand trembled and he spilt some of the drink onto the mahogany table. He cursed and looked to wipe up the mess and then thought better of it. He sighed and took a deep gulp before placing the glass to his forehead and closing his eyes. From inside the wardrobe, Norva concentrated on controlling her breathing. When she had broken into Jacquard's room after escaping the Pit she had been surprised how much he had deteriorated from the strong, proud man she remembered. Now in decline, he looked a shadow of that man.

  The door to the cupboard she hid in was only open a slither, so her view was limited. Even so, she could see his cheeks were sallow and all the weight had come off him. The muscle was still there but it was on the wane. It was hard to see how the man in front of her was the same man who had ruled Frindoth for so long and had been a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.

  King Jacquard took another sip and then placed the glass down splashing yet more wine onto the table. He placed both palms on the table and clicked his neck. Outside, the distant sounds of war could be heard above the sound of the waterfall. From the shrieks and cries it was impossible to tell how the war was going. Occasionally there was the sound of frantic steps outside the room but this side of the palace was mostly deserted. Only a single guard stood outside the door. Norva had avoided him and entered through the window as the King relieved himself on the chamber pot.

  "Tell me, how do you decide on the opportune moment to dramatically reveal yourself," King Jacquard asked.

  Norva's breath caught in her throat. He knew she was there! How? She had never been caught before! For a minute she was arrogant enough to believe that he could not possibly be talking to her. There had to be someone else in the room that he addressed. She chose to remain silent. There was no point in revealing herself until she was absolutely certain she had been discovered. After all, there were strong rumours that the King had lost his mind recently. There was a good chance he could have been talking to himself.

  "I am not that mad that I would talk to myself," the King said as if reading her thoughts.

  Her instincts told her she had been discovered. Yet still she remained con
cealed in the cupboard. A thunderous boom emanated from somewhere beyond the Palace walls. The impact of whatever had caused the noise caused some debris to shower down from the ceiling. King Jacquard walked passed the door not looking in her direction. If he was addressing her then why did he not simply open the door? She closed her eyes and quested out to the nearby animals. Her mind was filled with fear and confusion. The battle dominated the wildlife's thoughts; there was nothing there that could assist her. Previously, even in such chaos she would have been able to focus on individual creatures and follow their instincts. Lately though it seemed every effort she made to reach out was met with a clouded veil over the predominant response. Even Clarabelle was hard to reach. The panther paced on the outskirts of Lilyon away from the danger but fraught with concern for the Ghost Assassin. She tried to calm her mind to reassure her friend but the panther was not so easily fooled.

  Suddenly the cupboard door flung open, Norva squealed and hated herself for doing so as she squinted against the light. She leapt out of the cupboard and crouched, her sisters drawn and ready, even though she knew there was no danger. King Jacquard stepped backwards but made no effort to defend himself and merely looked at her impassively; neither fearful of her stance nor amused.

  "You knew?" Norva asked and again chastised herself for appearing so weak. King Jacquard nodded and turned to the table with the wine on it. He reached for the glass.

  "How?"

  The King shrugged. "Does it matter?"

  "To me it does," Norva said. She was surprised how angry she felt. She had never been discovered and to be detected by a man who had supposedly deteriorated so swiftly did not rest well with her.

  "I am the King. I have slain countless men on the battlefield and outwitted hundreds more. I have even slain a Mant..." His voice trailed off and he looked embarrassed all of a sudden. "It doesn't matter."