Only Stones Remain (Ballad of Frindoth Book 4)

by Rob Donovan

  The enemy rallied and charged forwards, but nothing could stop the momentum of the alliance. A Gloom roared nearby but whereas it had inspired awe and fear only moments before, now it was viewed as just another enemy. Soldiers systematically hacked away at the many legs, bringing the nightmarish creature down with minimum casualties.

  That is not to say it was all one way. Like every war, momentum shifts like the wind blowing across a plain; the grass would fold one way to reveal the silver reflection of the sun and then in an instant bend the other way to reveal the vibrant green of the stalk. Several Glooms clustered together and began to forge a path of destruction. Warrior after warrior attacked and was swiped aside like irritating flies. Two of the Glooms were human like in shape but had skin as thick as a rhino's. Althalos saw blades smash against their hides and barely make a dent. In the middle of the Glooms one slithered along with a snake-like body and four arms. It fired arrows at the warriors using the two Glooms flanking it as a shield.

  Althalos watched a band of Rivervale warriors charge and recognised them as the men he had fought so many moons ago in an effort to prove himself. That foolish need to prove himself back then had earned him a little respect but had been a massive risk. Those warriors had been the first to accept him and he feared for them attacking such formidable opponents. They were doing it for him and he could only watch.

  "It is not our target son, trust in your men," Jacquard said as if reading his thoughts. He knew his father was right but as he watched them all falter he could not overcome the sense of guilt that washed over him. He saw one of the armoured-skin Glooms rip the head off the shoulders of one of the men and realised it was Theordan the man who had initially challenged him.

  Out of the periphery of his vision he caught a sudden movement, a sword flying towards his neck. His eyes widened as he realised he was too late to stop the blade. Images of his mother and of Shana flashed into his mind as he prepared to meet his death. However, at the last moment the blade was blocked and forced away. Atikass shoved him away and dispatched the warrior who had nearly ended his life.

  "Fucking concentrate," his brother shouted over his shoulder as he met his next challenger.

  Althalos shook his head in a bid to clear his mind. His brother was right; he had to focus on the task in hand. In the distance, he saw Xandemon towering over the men around him. The leader of the Glooms faced the advancing Meadowmead flag, which was less than twenty yards from the Gloom. He pointed his scimitar at the advancing men and several Glooms shifted in the direction of Unger's men. Althalos ducked an assault from a charging warrior, he let the man fly over him straightening as he felt the man's body on his back and sending him hurtling through the air. He thrust at the exposed side of another warrior and felt the resistance of blade entering skin.

  He glanced to the distance again. Xandemon stood a hundred yards away. The Gloom King paced up and down. Althalos had seen him enter the battle and withdraw again. It was clear he wanted to destroy everything in his path but for some reason he restrained himself. Althalos could not even begin to estimate the number of warriors and Glooms between the two of them but he knew it was far too many to fight through. Marybeth's plan was a good one but it was a risk. To deposit him, his father, his brother and the witch as well as a handful of others behind enemy lines would leave them horribly exposed. Marybeth might be able to occupy Cordane and maybe some of the men could take down Raoul Seth but could any number of them really have a hope of taking down Xandemon? Even if they did, what about the other Glooms?

  Men on horseback rode towards Xandemon, Althalos struggled to see who they were. Lord Frindolin perhaps? The warlord of Snowdonia preferred to be astride his mare to give him the height advantage and survey the battle. An arrow whistled passed the Prince's head, he ducked instinctively even though the projectile had already missed him. His father chopped down a man in front of him and then stepped over the foe leaving the man behind him to deliver the fatal strike.

  "It's Cordane," Atikass said. Althalos followed his brother's gaze and realised he was looking at the figure on horseback. The trickster trotted his horse next to Xandemon and began to confer. His straight back and assured movements were a far cry from the doddering old advisor he had pretended to be by his father's side. How had they been so easily fooled? Even from this distance, Althalos could tell Cordane did not seem concerned about the struggle taking place in front of him. The man had murdered the majority of Crestfall by transforming them to stone. He had captured his mother and ensured his brother was raised as a savage, not to mention the hundreds of men he had killed in this battle and yet there he sat upon a horse, guilty of the most heinous crimes and consulting with a monster as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  "Marybeth?" Althalos shouted as he met an opponent's attack. He heard a high-pitched whistle behind him and was vaguely aware of a yellow hue. The man in front of him stepped back distracted and Althalos did not hesitate to take his life. In the distance Cordane had whirled his horse around in the direction of the sound. His mouth fell open in shock. He dismounted and extended his arms conjuring up a spell. Althalos felt his blood run cold. Whatever the evil warlord planned, he would be in direct contact with it. Besides Cordane, Xandemon bellowed in rage, he punched Cordane's horse without a second's thought, instantly killing the poor animal. A grey mist began to form between Cordane's hands.

  Men from both sides continued to fight but it was a muted affair. All were distinctly aware something was happening which they had no influence over. Overhead several of the Custodians rallied in the sky to form an imaginary wall. They repelled all attacks from the Glooms. A small party of the white feathered creatures whirled around and circled behind Althalos. They descended in a steep dive heading towards him.

  "Open your arms," Marybeth said. For a moment he did not comprehend what she meant and merely extended his arms like that of a scarecrow mimicking the witch. The first custodian reached her and lifted her in powerful arms. Althalos did not have time to marvel at the ease with which the creature picked her up before he felt powerful talons reach under his armpits and hoist him into the air. He gasped as his feet left the ground, almost dropping his sword and shield.

  Next to him Atikass yelled as he was lifted. His father screamed a war cry that was lost to the wind behind him. No sooner had the shocked faces of his enemy fell away than they came into focus again as the Custodians once again descended. Althalos blinked tears away as the wind rushed against his face. He felt elation, exhilaration and fear all at the same time. He was in the air no more than a couple of seconds but it felt like an age.

  The Custodian jerked to one side as it moved to avoid several arrows, jolting his body and jarring his teeth together. He tasted blood and spat it out.

  In front of him Cordane had finished manifesting his spell. He launched himself from the floor and rushed towards them aiming straight for Marybeth. The Custodian holding the witch released her and she collided with Cordane mid-air in a sickening smack of skin and bone. The two fell like a stone to the floor. He struggled to see if either had survived but a roar from below focused his attention. He looked down just in time to see Xandemon hurl a large axe at him. It travelled at a frightening velocity, turning over and over in his direction. The Custodian holding him screamed and released him, seconds before the blade of the axe crashed into the creature's heart. Althalos fell through the sky, his arms and legs lashing out for purchase that was not there.

  The ground rushed towards him and once again he pictured his family and Shana. He heard a cry from someone above and thought it might be his father. Before he could scream the breath was knocked from his lungs as a blur of white crashed into him and knocked him sideways. He lost all his bearings as he tumbled over and over in a mass of fur and feathers. A damp, sour stench filled his nostrils and he gagged. For the second time in a matter of minutes, he tasted blood as his body thudded against the ground and he bit his lip. His right leg went numb as he tried to stret
ch it. The Custodian that had saved him lay a few feet away, its powerful body a tangle of wings and limbs, as it heaved slowly struggling for air. Althalos tried to feel for his sword in the damp ground around him but felt nothing but mud. Warriors fought around him. Some of them he recognised but the majority were the enemy.

  There seemed to be a brief pause in the battle when all of them took in what had just happened.

  "Kill the Prince," one of them yelled. Althalos did not have a clue who said it as a wave of nausea washed over him. Stars danced before his eyes. Get up you idiot, the thought was there but his body did not seem to obey. His left leg throbbed but there was still no feeling in his right. He clenched a fist and thumped it. At least that is what he tried to do, but all he could manage was a weak tap. He was dimly aware of Atikass landing and swinging his sword furiously at anyone that approached.

  He lay back and looked at the Custodian, the narrow slit for eyes stared back at him, the electric blue colour fading as he looked. "Thank you," Althalos whispered. He was not sure if the custodian understood but he wanted to convey his sentiments all the same.

  Suddenly, a sword sliced through the custodian's neck sending a gush of blue blood into the air and severing the creature's head; the light in its eyes extinguished. Xandemon emerged from behind the fallen Custodian, staring down at its kill and breathing hard. It looked over at Althalos and a malicious grin spread across its black lips. It stamped down on the severed neck of the custodian for good measure before stepping over the fallen creature.

  "Get up," the words seemed to come from a faraway place and were muffled as if spoken under water. Althalos could see his brother gesturing for him to get up with one hand whilst he fought with his sword in the other. "Rise you idiot, he will kill you."

  The Prince glanced around aware of the commotion all around; drinking it all in and yet taking none of it in. Xandemon loomed closer and part of him screamed to do something about that, yet his body seemed unable to respond. Behind Xandemon a flash of blue lit up the field causing the leader of the Gloom to be no more than a hulking silhouette. Everyone ducked at the booming explosion but Xandemon did not even flinch. He dimly registered the noise must have come as a result of Marybeth or Cordane; which meant one if not both were still alive.

  Xandemon took another step and the acrid smell of body odour tickled the Prince's nostrils. He saw the fangs of the leader of the Gloom as he grinned in triumph; saw how the teeth curved away to the edge of his mouth. He registered the bulging muscles and the fine hairs which covered them so that it looked as if the Gloom was covered in fur. He saw Xandemon take another step and watched how the creature's foot disappeared into the soil under the weight of its frame; the foot was twice as big as his head!

  "Althalos move," this time his brother's voice was crystal clear. It was as if someone had removed a pillow from his head. The sounds of the battle came rushing back to him with such clarity he was almost overwhelmed. The clash of steel and the cries of men penetrated his ears as did the screaming noise of the Glooms as they fought the Custodians and their strange way of clicking to communicate. Althalos scrambled to a sitting position and looked for his sword. It was less than a few feet away. With his good leg, he pushed his body towards it, dragging his numb leg in the process. This time as he thumped against his thigh it was with a lot of force. He could also gradually detect some sensation returning to the damaged muscles. He reached for his sword, his fingertips brushing against the hilt but not quite able to grasp it.

  Xandemon roared with laughter and Althalos whipped his head around to see the leader of the Glooms now stood directly over him. The Prince moved to his sword but Xandemon placed a large foot on the Prince's ankle holding him place. The Gloom licked his lips as he slowly increased the pressure on the foot. Althalos gritted his teeth as he felt the bones in his feet grind together. A warrior rushed to his defence but Xandemon swiped away the valiant attack propelling the man out of sight.

  Althalos stretched behind him desperately trying to retrieve his sword. Once again, his fingers brushed the hilt slightly, but he only succeeded in pushing it further out of reach.

  "Pathetic," Xandemon's voice was deep and resonated across the battlefield. "Are you the one they've chosen as their King?"

  A warrior charged behind Xandemon lowering his shoulders as he crashed into the Gloom. He bounced off as if he had run into one of the White Walls. He landed on his backside, dazed and shaking his head no doubt trying to clear his vision. Xandemon glanced down as if the man were a child. The Gloom engulfed the fallen warrior’s head in his large fingers and lifted the man from the floor. The man screamed in protest and clawed at the Gloom's iron like grip. "Such frailty," Xandemon studied the man up close as he struggled in vain. He then applied pressure to the warrior's head which exploded in his grip. Blood and brain matter splattered over Althalos. A shard of skull cut his cheek, whilst globlets of viscous blood felt warm upon his lips. He wiped away the remnants in disgust and stared, appalled at Xandemon. The Leader of the Gloom examined his hands as if perplexed by the contents he found smeared upon them. He wiped his palms down the sides of his legs and turned his attention back to the Prince.

  "Vashna was a worthier King than you. I can see why your Kingdom rebelled," Xandemon said.

  The words hurt which was ridiculous considering all the Prince had physically endured. They were also foolish words. It was clear to him that Xandemon would never have permitted Vashna to rule. He could see that, why could the rest of the westerners not? He wondered if the Lakisdoreans had reached the same conclusion. Why were they all still fighting against one another when it was clear who the real enemies were?

  Realising he was never going to reach the sword now, Althalos rubbed his leg in an attempt to restore all feeling. If he could just manage to get some life back into it then just maybe he could kick Xandemon's standing leg and free his ankle. He laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Kicking Xandemon's leg would be akin to kicking a tree trunk. He was more likely to break his own foot than dislodge the Gloom’s.

  "You laugh? Why?" Xandemon asked. The confusion on the Gloom's face brought a moment of satisfaction to the Prince. Less than fifteen yards away, Atikass tangled with Raoul Seth, the leader of the Lakisdoreans raining down blows on his brother in a relentless assault. The King across the water was stained with blood; his ridiculous hair had become unravelled and now fell across his scalp as if someone had deposited seaweed on him. Behind the King, his sons fought men they were supposed to be allied with. Men from Snowland fought back just as hard. Althalos laughed harder. Xandemon increased the pressure on the Prince's ankle yet still Althalos refused to cry out. A Gloom landed in the middle of a group of warriors fighting each other. This one was a gelatinous blob with tentacles. It lashed out at everyone that surrounded it. Enemies who had been embroiled in a vicious struggle took one look at each other and then rallied in attacking the Gloom together for the first time. Althalos could not help but guffaw.

  "Insanity. You've lost your senses."

  "You will not win. You can't win. The people of Frindoth are not stupid. They will not be fooled for long. They will work out who the real enemy is and they will rise up."

  Althalos did not see the giant fist come toward him. It rocked his head backwards on his shoulders. Blood spurted into his mouth from all directions. He felt the hard enamel of a broken tooth fragment on his tongue. He spat it out as he struggled to keep from vomiting. His vision darkened and remained blurred. He probed his teeth with his tongue checking for the cavity. It was on the upper side of his mouth. At least his smile would not be affected. The notion caused more hysterical laughter. This time he choreographed the punch. He shifted to the side in time so that it only glanced his temple. It still caused a moment's dizziness.

  "You're wrong King. All will fall before me," Xandemon crowed.

  "I won't," his father's voice was imperative; it was the tone that Althalos remembered and thought was lost. His father stood a few feet
away, sword lofted in one hand and battered shield in the other. His beard was matted with blood and there was a steely look in his eye that sent a frisson up the Prince's spine. His father looked every bit the King the bards used to sing about.

  "Ah, so there you are. The one who caused all of this."

  "I caused nothing. I am guilty of believing in the good of people, nothing more. I trusted in Frindoth and was let down. My son won't make the same mistake."

  "Your son won't be around long enough to make it."

  With that Xandemon raised his curved blade and began to bring it down upon Althalos.

  "No!" Jacquard cried, the confidence he displayed only moments before evaporating and replaced by sheer terror. It was obvious his father would not reach him in time to intervene. His father had taught him that no one could help you in life but yourself. Althalos lunged backwards for his sword and was amazed when his foot underneath Xandamon's gave slightly. It was no more than an inch but it was all he needed to reach the sword. As Xandamon's scimitar raced towards his head, Althalos knew it would be pointless to parry the blow as Xandamon's weapon would likely sever his and still have enough force to cleave off Althalos's head. Instead the prince pivoted to the side and avoided the strike by the slenderest of margins, feeling the steel nick his ear lobe. Althalos swung at Xandamon with both hands using all his might.