Ritual of the Stones (Ballad of Frindoth) (28 page)

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 composure. 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.

Jacquard
watched the warlords filter out of the room. He tried to catch Althalos’s eye
but his son was too consumed with his own thoughts. He would need to
demonstrate more confidence if he was to truly lead an army.

Was Tulber correct? Maybe Althalos should be charged with looking
for the Gloom whilst he led the army
? Either
way contained risks
. Althalos was young and inexperienced
but he had been brought up learning to fight and he was clever. To deal with
Iskandar and the Order required more than intelligence, it needed life
experience. The Gloom was also the priority.

Win or lose the
forthcoming battle, the outcome did not matter if the Gloom was still at large.
He had to think of the people of Frindoth first and foremost.

It was a while
before he noticed a figure lingering in the doorway. Longshaw hesitated by the
entrance, the leader of the knights bit his lip as he wrung his hands. He
glanced down the corridor and then back toward the king.