Only Stones Remain (Ballad of Frindoth Book 4)

by Rob Donovan

  Naila had never invoked that reaction. She had stirred him in other ways, but he was so pleased he had never given in to Naila's flirtatious ways.

  However, there was a distance between him and Brenna that had not been there before. They had always been so easy in each other's company but now there was an invisible barrier that he could not figure out and could not break down. It was not just limited to Brenna either. It was there with Mertyn and Tyra too.

  Janna had noticed it but had tried to ignore it and so Jensen had done the same. He did not want the drama in his life at the moment.

  It had been six days since they left the battle. Six days of revelry, six days of reminiscing, six days of expressing how lucky they were to be reunited. They had managed fine for food and drink and there had been no danger to speak of. It had felt like travelling across Frindoth before the Ritual of the Stones had taken place. At least that is how it would have looked to an outsider looking in.

  To Jensen, each day that passed saw the revelry, the memories and the jokes become a little more strained. Each smile was forced and each laugh a little too enthusiastic to be truly believable.

  He had caught the anxious looks exchanged between Mertyn and Tyra, he noticed the uneasy way Brenna scratched at her arm when talking about his parents and he picked up on the odd slip of the tongue when one of them would pause just a fraction mid-sentence when they thought they had said something wrong. He had first noticed it at Lilyon when Tyra had mentioned his father in the past tense. It had bothered him at the time but he had been distracted and put the slip down to the fact they assumed his parents had perished. In the past couple of days there had been similar instances when one of them had referred to his parents in the past tense. There was also no denying the look of shame that briefly showed on their faces.

  He knew he would have to address the situation sooner rather than later; to leave it unspoken was not healthy. They had escaped the dangers; they could go where they wanted. News had reached them of the defeat of the Glooms and Cordane. At first none of them had believed it, especially not Mertyn and his family who had witnessed the leader of the Gloom first hand. But as another peddler had confirmed the news and a merchant reiterated the story a day later, they had dared to believe. It was tremendous news and the upbeat mood was not one Jensen looked forward to spoiling.

  Needing to relieve himself, he glanced a final time at his friends and family and crept outside the hut. The sun had already risen and bathed Frindoth in a red hue. Already the air had begun to warm. Jensen moved into the trees to be out of sight and emptied his bladder, smiling and uttering a silent apology to the woodlouse that scurried for cover to avoid being drenched. He was on a small hill and through the trees Frindoth sprawled before him; green and yellow fields filled the landscape all sloping at different angles. The occasional tree broke up the pattern and a wide river glistened silver in the morning sun. He did not know the name of the river and made a note to ask Brenna. She would know; she liked to study maps of Frindoth and was forever teasing him at his lack of knowledge.

  A flock of lapwings took to the sky, soaring in the morning sun and then darting left and right. Jensen wondered if they were aware of the perils the people had experienced on the ground. Did they know how close Frindoth had come to being destroyed? He closed his eyes as a light breeze swept over him brushing his cheeks. Why couldn't he just move on? Why did he have to question Mertyn and his family? Whatever they knew about his parent’s fate, did it matter? They had endured more than enough; they had experienced pain and torture like no other. Was it worth making spoiling the mood? From the way Mertyn, Tyra and Brenna spoke of his parents in the past tense it was obvious they were dead. Did it really matter how? As he opened his eyes he shook his head ruefully. Of course it was. It was his parents he was thinking about. He needed to know what happened to them. He needed to know to ease his own guilt at having abandoned them.

  "Beautiful isn't it?" Janna said from behind him causing him to start. He had not heard her approach.

  "It really is. You forget how amazing a sunrise can be," Jensen said and squeezed Janna's arm as she stood beside him. She flinched as he touched her scars through the fabric and he winced at his inconsideration.

  "If everyone was to pause to look at this view, I find it hard to believe there would be any wars, any conflict, and any death."

  Jensen smiled thinly. He doubted such a sight very much would quell the murderous ways of some of the people he had met recently but it was his sister's idealistic outlook which produced the smile. Even after everything she had endured she still remained optimistic. It was remarkable really.

  "Father used to love the sunrise. I remember once when he dragged me into town to sell his candles, he stopped at the top of a hill similar to this and made me drink in the view. He asked me what I thought of it.”

  "What did you say?" Janna asked brushing the hair which had fallen across her face; the sunlight transformed part of her hair from brown to beige.

  "I don't recall," Jensen shrugged and looked down, suddenly embarrassed by the memory. He remembered exactly how he had reacted. He had rolled his eyes and muttered a sarcastic retort about it being the sun and it rose every day. He recalled his father's exasperated expression and the look of disappointment he had tried to shield from his son. Jensen hated himself for that. Why could he not have been kinder? He felt a surge of anger course through him as the familiar kick of the Blackthorn potions reminded him that the stuff was not completely out of his system yet. He would do anything to go back to that morning, to tell his father he thought the view was amazing, that he loved the look of the dew glistening on the grass, the fresh smell which tickled his nose as the flowers seemed to wake up.

  "He loved us," Janna said. "They both did."

  Jensen nodded. He knew his parents loved him. Despite how he behaved around them, no matter how surly, rude or sarcastic he was, they patiently endured his behaviour, hoping that Jensen would emerge a better man once he was over the phase he was going through.

  "The others know what happened to them, you know that don't you?" Jensen asked. He did not look at his sister but stared at the lapwings flying their unpredictable patterns in the sky.

  For a while Janna did not reply and he was about to repeat the question. "Yes," Janna said at last. The word caught in the back of her throat and came out in a croak. "I am not sure how, but they know. The last I saw of them was when I fled into the woods. The witch found me and told me there was no way back to them. I was so scared, I believed her. I shouldn't have, I know I shouldn't have but I just wanted it all to be over. I wanted the witch to resolve it all."

  Jensen did not say anything. Janna had told him the same story twice already since their reunion. He believed her and because of his own selfishness knew he had no right for recriminations. "I've been trying to come up with an explanation as to why they would not have told us but I can't find one that is satisfactory."

  "Maybe they have not told us to protect us from more heartache."

  Jensen shook his head. "No, I thought of that and dismissed it straightaway. Mertyn has always been straight with me. They are more likely protecting themselves."

  He was surprised at Janna's lack of reaction. He had expected her to be shocked that he could think such a thing.

  "What do you think happened?" Janna asked.

  Jensen picked up a stick from amongst the grass; he began to peel the bark off slowly revealing the fresh yellow wood underneath. "I've tried not to speculate, but I can't not. Did they betray our parents, abandon them? Or something worse? I'm afraid of the answer but I need to ask the question. There has been too much grief in our lives, so I've tried to reason that maybe we would be better off not knowing. But I don't think I can leave it. I don't think Mertyn and the others can leave it like that either. The last few days have been..."

  "Horrible," Janna interrupted. "The tension is growing by the hour, we can all sense it. Something has got to give."

&nb
sp; "The way I see it we have two options: we either confront them or go our own way and live in ignorance," Jensen said.

  "I believe there are no options. I need to know," Janna said.

  "Yeah me too," Jensen said and snapped the stick in half.

  ***

  That confrontation did not happen until two days later. Jensen had been waiting for the right time to bring up the subject. During that time the jovial relationship between the two families had soured considerably. Everyone was taciturn and Jensen even found it difficult to speak with Brenna. She sensed things weren't quite right and so over-compensated by being ebullient, laughing too hard and talking incessantly to fill the silences when they were alone.

  It annoyed Jensen because he found her cloying and immature, and this annoyed him even more as he knew she was trying to ease the tension. As the pair lay on a river bank together after volunteering to fetch water so they could spend some time alone, Jensen's irritability was at breaking point.

  "Remember how we used to lay by the river back home?"

  "Hmmm," Jensen said. It was the third time Brenna had asked the question. She lay against him snuggling into the crook of his arm.

  "We would invent silly games or race sticks under the bridge. I loved those times, but all the time I was praying that Brody and Janna would leave and we could be alone together."

  Jensen pushed her head off his shoulder with a little more force than he intended. Brenna started and looked hurt, more by the rejection than any physical pain. He sat up and mumbled an apology.

  "It's alright, I know you didn't mean it. You never could stay in one position for very long. You used to say it made you-"

  "What are you doing?" he snapped

  Brenna recoiled as if slapped. Her mouth dropped open and then closed again as she struggled to understand his anger.

  "I am not sure what you mean. I'm talking."

  "A lot," Jensen said and then hated himself when he saw tears in her eyes. She made no effort to brush them away and so he was forced to watch her eyes fill up and then the tears overflow, as they fell down her cheeks.

  "I'm sorry, I, I, we used to always talk."

  "Not like this. You are talking non-stop about pointless things."

  Brenna sat up and brushed the soil and loose grass from her arms. "I'd hardly call our memories pointless," she said.

  Jensen sighed. "You know what I mean."

  "No, I really don't. You used to love talking to me and I wrongly assumed you'd want to talk loads having been apart from me for so long."

  "I can't, not like this. Not with things the way they are."

  He stood up and then lent down to offer a hand to help her up. Brenna ignored the offer and stood by herself. She stared at the river, arms wrapped protectively around her body.

  "I know Brody is dead, I know we have all been through a nightmare, but I am trying to talk about normal things. You have been so withdrawn these past few days, so distant. I was just trying to fill the awful silences."

  Jensen placed a hand lightly on her shoulder and winced as she flinched. "You know that is not what I was talking about. My parents..."

  Brenna fell against him and let out a sob. "I don't know what happened to them, I swear. I was not there."

  "But Mertyn and Tyra were?" Jensen asked. He felt his stomach turn over, his heart thudding against his chest like a battering ram on a castle door. This was it; was he finally going to understand the truth about his parent’s fate?

  "I think so. I don't know the story. By the Tri-moons I don't. I just picked up on things. I know they met them and then I saw-"

  "I will take it from here Bren."

  They both whirled around to see Mertyn standing behind them. He held a sword in his hand with the blade pointing at the ground. His father's best friend looked deathly pale and had a deranged look in his eyes. His nostrils flared as he struggled to maintain control of his breathing.

  Brenna instinctively moved in front of Jensen. "Father?"

  "It is time we cleared the air once and for all. Go and fetch your mother and Janna and bring them here please," Mertyn said, his voice shrill.

  Brenna did not move. "Father?" she said again, Jensen could tell from the break in her voice that she was crying again.

  "Please Brenna, the quicker the better."

  Jensen eased Brenna away from him. He kissed the top of her head. "It's alright. Do as your father says."

  As Brenna moved away, she looked back at Jensen and he saw her skin had lost its colour, mimicking her fathers. She shook her head in refusal, her mouth open but unable to speak.

  "Brenna please. It is alright," Jensen said.

  Brenna looked at her father, her head at an angle, as if she could not reconcile the man with the man she knew as her father. She turned to Jensen and hugged him fiercely, Jensen returned the embrace enjoying the physical presence against him; needing it. She reluctantly let go and then rushed to her father and wrapped her arms around him. For a brief moment Jensen felt a spark of jealousy. It dissipated quickly as he watched Mertyn close his eyes and melt into his daughter; the pain evident on his face. Brenna looked back a final time at Jensen and then sprinted into the trees as if their lives depended on it. Jensen was not sure they didn't.

  For a moment the two men just stared at each other. Jensen flexed his fingers and was not sure if it was out of nervousness or readiness. He saw Mertyn notice the act, but his father's best friend remained motionless.

  "What's with the sword?" Jensen asked.

  Mertyn raised it as if to study the blade. "I am not sure yet to be truthful,"

  The words sent a chill down Jensen's spine.

  "Are you going to use it?" Jensen asked, he did not want to ask the question but he needed to know. Mertyn gripped the hilt of the blade until his knuckles turned white. He breathed rapidly and Jensen debated whether or not to tell Brenna to run.) Only the compulsion to understand the truth kept him rooted to the spot. "Can you not answer?"

  Mertyn had been looking down at the floor, his head jerking up when Jensen prompted him. His eyes were wild and Jensen knew whatever was about to happen would not end well. They both flinched as a fish splashed in the river behind them. Jensen turned to catch a glimpse of a slender silver body disappearing beneath the surface; he stepped back, raising his hands in case Mertyn had used the distraction to attack. He hadn't, his father's best friend remained rooted to the spot. Mertyn raised his eyebrows as he realised what Jensen had been thinking. A look of hurt crossed his face and then he looked down again at his sword and the look vanished.

  They remained silent for the next few minutes until they heard the girls returning. They were speaking in hushed, urgent whispers; Jensen saw Janna first, her cheeks flushed and her eyes full of confusion.

  She went to him and instinctively moved to his side. It was not until she saw the strain etched on his face that she realised something was seriously wrong. When she spied the sword in Mertyn's hand she let out a gasp and moved even closer to Jensen.

  Brenna hesitated; she did not know where to place herself. She made to move towards Jensen before Tyra grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her side. Brenna made no move to resist as tears fell down her cheeks. Tyra’s once beautiful face was a mask of stone. She stared at Jensen with cold eyes. He had never seen that expression on Tyra’s face before. She was like a second mother to him and the venom in that look upset him more than he ever thought possible.

  "What's going on?" Janna asked. She looked at Jensen and then over to their friends. For a moment no one replied. It seemed that the whole of Frindoth had stilled in anticipation of the answer to the question. The trees were motionless as though the wind dared not blow for fear of missing the answer. Only the river rushing along on its inexorable journey maintained a degree of normality. Jensen wondered how deep the water was. It was fast moving, if he and Janna jumped in would the current take them away from Mertyn before he could react?

  "It is time for the truth to come o
ut," Mertyn said. "I can't stand the secrecy anymore, and I am guessing you two feel the same."

  Jensen nodded. Janna wrapped both arms around one of his arms for comfort. He was tempted to shrug them off, not to deny her the security she sought, but because he recognised he might need his limbs free to tackle whatever Mertyn decided to do.

  "And you need a sword to tell the truth?" Jensen asked.

  "Father?" Brenna asked, between silent sobs. Her eyes were red and puffy. The girl was falling apart in front of Jensen and it broke his heart.

  "I'd do anything I could to protect my family, that is one of the many things me and your father had in common."

  "That and friendship, loyalty and absolute trust in each other," Jensen spat out the words. He was not entirely sure what Mertyn was about to say but even a fool could tell it was going to be very bad. He enjoyed seeing both Mertyn and Tyra flinch as he spat out each word.

  "Yes, your father and I also shared those things."

  "His name is Rhact. Rhact Oberon," Jensen said. "You can call him by his name. After all, you knew him longer than I did. My mother was called Kiana. Just reminding you Tyra in case you had forgotten. It is just I haven't heard either of you call them by their names in the past week."

  For the first time Tyra's hard exterior cracked. She angrily wiped a tear from her cheek. "I know her name Jensen," she said softly.

  "Well that is reassuring at least," Jensen said. He was aware that he sounded petulant. A return to the boy who had accused his father of cowardice and of abandoning his family. Anger coursed through his blood but he was not sure if the Blackthorn poison was the cause of it anymore. Mertyn and Tyra had something to do with his parent's death. He was sure of it now. He needed to know the truth and did not like the way the pair of them were dragging out the story.

  "I will tell you the truth and I swear on the Tri-moons I will leave nothing out," Mertyn said but then looked at his wife and daughter. "But only once they are far away from here."