Ritual of the Stones (Ballad of Frindoth)

by Donovan, Rob

  “Too much probably, I …” Jacquard stopped. For the first time he realised that they were not alone and he was speaking far too freely in front of a stranger.

  During their jubilant reunion, the other prisoner had silently backed away not wishing to intrude on the moment. Jacquard was grateful for the display of respect but was now very aware of his presence. He noticed the stranger was doing his best to wash his hands in the puddle on the floor. When he stood up, it was clear his right hand was a darker shade of brown than the rest of his tanned skin.

  “I guess I am to be killed then,” he said.

  For a moment there was an awkward silence before Althalos took control of the situation.

  “Father, this is Cody Ramsay, he saved my life,” Althalos said.

  Jacquard looked at the man before him. Despite his ragged appearance, there was a quiet dignity to him. Faded scars covered his face and his eyes were cold. He looked like a man who had endured years of hardship and that had lowered his expectations of people. Despite his appearance, the man returned Jacquard’s gaze with a calm assurance. He did not seem deterred by the presence of the king. Jacquard sensed an inherent goodness within him as if he could trust the stranger instantly, which made the king all the more cautious. Could Althalos have fallen into the same trap?

  “It appears I am in your debt,” Jacquard said

  “So you are going to repay me by killing me,” Cody said with a rueful smile and extended his hand to shake.

  “A circumstance I deeply regret, but fear may not be avoidable,” Jacquard said, taking the hand and shaking it firmly.

  “I do not feel that it is necessary to throw away Cody’s life just yet, Father. He is a man that can be trusted and when the time comes I have no doubt he will do the honourable thing and give up his life. But in the meantime, he is far too valuable a resource not to use in helping track down the other stoneholders. Besides, he knows their faces as well as anyone.”

  Jacquard looked at Cody. In the man’s eyes there was not even a glimmer of hope that his life may be extended. Since when did every decision become so hard?

  They were interrupted by the hall doors opening. Longshaw strode into the room. From his tight lips and fixed frown he clearly was not happy the king had asked to be alone with a stranger. The expression annoyed the king; he was not totally incompetent.

  “The first thing we need to do is convince the warlords you are a free man and this is not just an elaborate ruse to keep you alive,” Jacquard said.

  “I agree, but what about Cody?”Althalos began.

  “I will think about it,” Jacquard said and turned to his head knight. “Escort this man to a secure room, he is too be treated well and not harmed,” he said, cutting Longshaw off before he could voice his protests. The knight hesitated for a moment, before signalling for his guards to obey the orders. Before Cody left, Jacquard stopped him, “Thank you for saving my son’s life,” he said. Cody nodded and then allowed himself to be led away.

  After the guards left the room, Jacquard embraced his son again.

  “You need a bath,” he said, causing them to both laugh. “Come,” he said, putting an arm around his son’s shoulder and leading him towards their quarters, “we must prepare for the war council, and I want to hear what happened to you, every detail.”

  The impromptu war council took place the next day. None of the warlords had left Lilyon yet and so it was only a question of getting a message to them to arrange the meeting. As he sat at the head of the table, Jacquard’s thoughts turned to Cody Ramsay. He had decided to grant his son’s wishes and spare the man for now. He had ordered Cody to be placed in one of the palace bedrooms, a move Longshaw had vehemently disagreed with.

  “Whether he saved Althalos’s life is immaterial. The point is we know next to nothing about this man. I sense that he is dangerous, surely you can too,” the head knight protested.

  Jacquard had sensed it, but still insisted Cody be afforded the rights of a guest rather than a prisoner. He also commanded that the bedroom door be unlocked (which also infuriated Longshaw). So far, Cody had made no attempts to escape, which impressed Jacquard.

  His attention turned back to the meeting. The tension in the room was unbearable. The war council had been in session for most of the morning. The warlords were bickering about the best course of action. It appeared that every one of them had something to say and the usual respect they showed Jacquard was being ignored as they shouted over him.

  There were now six empty seats around the table. Kana’s chair remained empty; the white skull painted onto it was a frightening and symbolic representation of the crisis they now faced. The Shanganite had not shown his face since the last war council when Jacquard had questioned his loyalties.

  Jacquard was not surprised. He believed the man had already made the decision long agoto join Vashna. He was more concerned what this meant for the inevitable war. With Kana now on Vashna’s side, the warlord had a means of crossing the Great Canyon unopposed. The Shangon Bridge was nowhere near as grand as the Great Bridge of Luciana and covering it would be slow and arduous, but with free access to the east, the battle would take place a lot sooner than Jacquard would have liked.

  The other vacant seat belonged to Da Ville. Evidently the ageing warlord had taken exception to his decision not to send aid to Mantini and decided he wanted no part in the forthcoming war.

  Of the twelve regions in Frindoth, four of them now marched against him, one had withdrawn its support and one was cut off (if still alive), for Jacquard had not been able to establish any communication with Prandor at Wildecliffe Shore. In regards to territories, this meant Jacquard had the support of six regions against Vashna’s four. In terms of men, however, Vashna outnumbered his almost three to one.

  Jacquard’s numbers were mostly made up from his own soldiers in the Rivervale and Hamsun’s force from Luciana, which as Hamsun had explained earlier in the meeting, now stood at half its original number having been greatly depleted by Vashna on the west side of the canyon. The other regions only had small armies and had already been ravaged by the Gloom.

  Jacquard sighed, the outlook was bleak. Even his army had suffered greatly at the Ritual. Outside the room, only seven of his knights stood guard. Of the others: two of them, Tredgil and Bryce, had received grievous wounds fighting the Gloom; Guynor was still in the infirmary; and the Cadaver Knight had not been seen since his lover had been killed at the Ritual.

  I have failed as a king. When did I ever become so complacent? He knew the answer even as he thought it. He had believed he had established a peaceful kingdom. He had allowed himself to be satisfied in what he had achieved. He had set up a war council to control the regions, an Order to supervise the land and raised a son ready to take his place. Hubris, the biggest sin past kings committed and I am guilty of the doing the same.

  “The Gloom has to be our priority. There is no point sending our forces out to war and leaving our homes defenceless against the Gloom. It defeats the whole objective of having an army to protect our women and children.”

  It was Calloway of Aselina that had spoken. His region was the first to be destroyed by the Gloom. He had reported how entire towns had been razed to the ground as the Gloom swept through the land.

  “Meanwhile, Vashna just marches across the land and plops himself on the bronze throne without even so much as an axe raised against him?” Hamsun retorted.

  The powerful man looked at the end of his tether. Gone were the beads in his beard, instead he wore it wild and unkempt. The devastation to one-half of his region was taking its toll on the man.

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Why march off to fight a distant enemy when we have one on our doorstep,” Calloway said. He epitomised the Aselinians, a tall man with pale skin. He had been their warlord since before Jacquard had become king.

  “In a number of weeks, Vashna will be on your doorstep,” Hamsun said. “The Gloom cannot be defeated; Vashna can. I propose we
buy ourselves time. If we ignore the threat of Vashna, then whilst we are out chasing shadows, he will swoop in and take Lilyon for himself. With him in charge, Frindoth’s downfall will be accelerated. If we defeat Vashna and still rule Frindoth, then hopefully an opportunity might present itself.”

  “Hopefully? You are willing to stake the fate of this kingdom on ‘hopefully’? You are a fool, Hamsun. We need every man we can spare to go after the Gloom.”

  “Then every man that we can spare will be slaughtered. THE GLOOM CANNOT BE DEFEATED,” Hamsun said.

  “What if we strike a deal with Vashna? Agree to a truce until the threat of the Gloom is over,” Calloway said.

  “Now who is being foolish?” Hamsun replied. “Have you heard nothing of Vashna’s exploits? The man is a monster, he only attacks because we have our attention focussed on the Gloom,” he spat as he spoke, a piece of spittle landing on the table.

  “Have all of you forgotten this morning? Apparently, the Gloom can be satisfied for another twelve years,” It was Tulber of Brimsgrove that had spoken.

  As he did, he looked at Althalos, who returned his stare. All heads turned in unison to regard the prince. For a moment Jacquard felt a hint of anger as they scrutinised his son. It was clear some of them were still not convinced he had not been selected as a stoneholder despite demonstrating irrefutable proof earlier in the day. Tulber in particular had found the story about Norva Steele breaking into his room a little too convenient to explain why Althalos was still alive.

  This morning, Jacquard had ordered the warlords to meet him at the city crypt. He explained to them what Norva had said about Jefferson and about her hand changing colour to indicate that she was a stoneholder. As anticipated, the warlords were not so easily convinced. Unger, the current warlord of Rora, was the loudest protester. Although he was well aware of Cader’s crimes, he was still fiercely loyal to his region and wanted nothing more than Norva brought to justice. At first they had trouble even believing the ghost assassin could have escaped.

  “We cannot trust anything that scheming whore says,” Unger had said.

  “I agree,” Jacquard said before the warlords got too worked up. ”That is why we are gathered here this morning.”

  “You plan to disturb the dead,” Unger said, wiping his index finger across his eyebrows to ward off evil spirits. It was another superstition that Jacquard showed no interest in and thought rather pointless.

  “I plan to see if Norva is telling the truth for myself, yes,” he replied.

  Jacquard ordered the crypt open and the bodies revealed. There were only three bodies in the crypt. Ulric, the black man and the young girl that captured the Cadaver Knight’s heart. The other bodies had been taken by their families to bury them as they saw fit. They only needed to see two of the bodies to be convinced, although Jacquard thought this was more to do with a lack of desire to see the third.

  The combination of the decomposing smell and horrendous sight of the remains had even made his stomach churn. The warlords had collectively gasped as first the decaying body of the young woman revealed her hand had turned as black as the night and then the hand of the black man was unveiled to be purple matching the stone placed next to his head.

  Jacquard shivered at the memory of the bodies. Despite his physicians doing their best, the look of panic on both faces was still evident. He hoped they had found peace in death.

  Now, looking at the accusatory faces of some of the warlords around the table, it appeared as if they had short memories. Jacquard did not care what they believed. There were far more important things to worry about and this petty squabbling was not getting them anywhere. He had already decided what must be done.

  “Both of you are right,” he said, getting their attention. “Of course you are. The Gloom and Vashna are the two biggest threats to threaten Frindoth since the Water King. That is why we must deal with both threats at the same time,” he said.

  “Impossible,” Hamsun said. “Splitting our forces would mean certain defeat on both accounts.”

  “Hamsun is right,” Unger said. “If we devote our entire forces to combat just one of the threats, victory will be a struggle. To divide them will prove disastrous.”

  Jacquard looked at the faces around the room; even Althalos looked concerned at his father’s suggestion. Calloway was the only man that was not so quick to judge.

  “What are you thinking, my lord?”

  “We know the Gloom cannot be defeated, so we do not even attempt to stop it. Our only chance is to capture the remaining stoneholders as quickly as possible and sacrifice them so the Gloom will be appeased for another twelve years. The rest of our force will ride out and meet Vashna in Luciana.”

  “What do you mean the rest of our force?” Unger said. The warlord usually hid behind the other warlords’ suggestions, jumping on the majority vote and then voicing his opinion loudest as if it was his idea. “How many men are you talking, you could dispatch the whole of our force in search of these stoneholders and still have no luck in finding them.” The others knocked their hands on the table in agreement. Jacquard patiently waited for them to cease.

  “I will search for the stoneholders, the rest of you will engage with Vashna.”

  “Outrageous!” Hamsun got to his feet. “Your men make up a third of our force. A king should lead his army in the battlefield, not be off gallivanting around the countryside on some wild goose chase.” More knocking on the table followed. A few of the warlords looked uneasy at Hamsun’s outburst.

  “Please take a seat, Hamsun,” Jacquard said and waited for the great warrior to retake his place at the table. “I understand the strain placed on us all, but you will remember your place in this council.” Hamsun sat down muttering an apology. “I agree with you, the king should be seen on the battlefield, but the Ritual is my mess to atone for. Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. I will take a handful of my knights and Cody Ramsay and search for the stoneholders with Iskandar. Althalos will lead my men into battle and command our force against Vashna.”

  The announcement was met with uproar. All of the warlords got to their feet and shouted their disapproval. The commotion caused Longshaw and the other knights to burst into the room, swords drawn. Jacquard signalled for them to stand down but not to leave the room. He could feel Althalos’s shocked stare burning into his head. He looked briefly at his son; his eyes communicating sheer panic. He chose to ignore the look and focussed on the others.

  Surprisingly, it was Grath of Easterly Rock that spoke up. Grath hardly ever contributed anything to the council meetings and Jacquard often wondered why he even bothered coming. He usually just sat and looked bored. A laconic young man, well toned and immaculately dressed. In complete contrast to the other warlords, he wore nothing to indicate that he lived on the battlefield; wearing a white linen shirt and trousers.

  Jacquard did not know too much about him. He was relatively new to the council, having assumed his role as warlord earlier in the year. Jefferson had informed him of his reputation as a deadly fighter, though. Among his people he had earned the reputation as the “majestic warrior” due to his fighting style being akin to dancing across the battlefield. The others had been wary of him at first, but as the months passed, they had grown used to his silent ways and strange attire.

  “With all respect, my king, the boy is unseasoned in the horrors of warfare. I fear the consequences of asking him to lead an expedition against the biggest threat Frindoth has faced.”

  When he spoke, his voice sounded as smooth as satin. His lips hardly seemed to move. His dark hair appeared long but barely touched his shoulders.

  “I appreciate your concern, Grath, but this is my decision,” Jacquard replied.

  “Nonsense,” said Unger, obviously encouraged by Grath. “You are sending us and the boy on the road to our deaths.”

  “I am sending him on the road to becoming a king,” Jacquard said. Suddenly he was on his feet, he did not care that he had lost his composu
re. Unger’s belligerence offended him. “There is no one I trust more in Frindoth. Althalos has a good head on his shoulders, what he lacks in experience can be gained from you. I’m tired of having my orders second-guessed,” Jacquard said. He glared at each of the warlords in turn, daring them to oppose him.

  “With all due respect, my king,” said Unger, blatantly adopting Grath’s example in addressing Jacquard. “But isn’t that the same judgement that appointed Jefferson as chief advisor to this council?”

  “With slightly less respect, mind your tongue,” Jacquard replied. The words stung, for they were true. Once again the room lapsed into an uneasy silence. “My judgement in Jefferson was,” he searched for the appropriate word, “misplaced, but I am still your king and I will not make such an error again. You have my word.”

  I am losing their trust; please let me be doing the right thing. He looked at the warlords. Unger had settled back into his seat, his arms folded as he sulked over the reprimand. Grath had gone back to looking bored, staring out of the window. Calloway and Hamsun were staring intently at him. He could imagine their minds ticking, trying to ascertain whether or not they still believed in him. However, it was Tulber he focussed on. He sat there rubbing his fingers through his goatee beard thoughtfully.

  “Do you have something to add, Tulber?”

  “I don’t disagree with your strategy, my lord. But does it really require a king to be part of this hunting party?”

  “As I have already stated, the Ritual was my responsibility. I will see that the Gloom is stopped.”

  “But you are looking for pebbles in the ocean,” he said.

  “Then who better than a king to find those pebbles.” When no further objection was made, Jacquard clarified the plan. “Then we are in agreement, everyone knows what we are to do. Althalos will lead the armies to join up with Hamsun’s forces in Luciana. There he will determine the most opportune location to engage with Vashna. Hamsun,” the warrior sat up, “you are second in command.”

  This produced the first smile on the bearded man’s face since the start of the council. If the others objected, they didn’t let it show. Hamsun turned to Althalos and said, “Right, then chief, we’d better make our plans.” Althalos’s gulp was clear for all to see.