Ritual of the Stones (Ballad of Frindoth) (27 page)

“For
years now, I have had to endure listening to Jefferson come down to the Pit and
scheme with that bastard you have running the place down there. Sitting in the
darkness alone was far more preferable than having to endure your supposed
friend coming down and moaning about your weakness in ruling Frindoth. They
argued back and forth as to how they could overthrow you without caring who
might be listening.

“Eventually
they hatched a plan to make you look weak to the people of Frindoth and replace
you with some warlord called Vashna. Vashna was to break away from your war
council and raise an army that could defeat those still loyal to you.
Meanwhile, Jefferson would continue to advise you to do the wrong thing where
he could, thus alienating you from the people.”

Norva
paused allowing him time to digest what she was saying. He could not believe
what he was hearing. His heart refused to accept that Jefferson could be so
callous, but piece by piece his brain was digesting the information and logic
was telling him it was true.

Over
the last year in particular, he had argued a great deal more with his friend at
how best to deal with situations. Jacquard had dismissed Jefferson’s
controversial opinions as a sign of age finally catching up with his friend.

A
knock on the door surprised them both. Norva snatched up the dagger and the two
of them stared at each other. Finally the king put a finger to his lips
instructing her to be silent and waved her to the far wall. Norva lay flat
against it so she would be hidden from view. He nodded at her to make sure she
was ready and received an affirmative nod in return.

“Come,”
he said.

A
plump maidservant entered the room and gathered the plate and fork. She frowned
as she cleared up the discarded chicken leg that Norva had thrown on the table.

“Will
that be everything, my lord?” she asked, looking suspiciously at him. He knew
she thought it was unlike him to make a mess.

“Yes,
thank you,” he said, making a show to dab his chin with a cloth. The
maidservant left, pulling the door closed behind her. Norva wasted little time
in striding to the window.

“I
don’t have much time,” she said as he stood up to stop her. “You must listen.”

Jacquard
nodded in agreement. Norva glanced anxiously at the door and then continued.

“About
a month ago, I woke up to find a stone next to my head. I told Delmut
immediately that I must be released in order to attend the Ritual. He took the
stone from me, gloating that maybe I would get my death sentence after all. A
couple of days later, I heard Jefferson enter the Pit. It appears he had
convinced you that your son had in actual fact received the stone. His new plan
was for the Ritual to fail.

“When
the Gloom came, it would know instantly it was being cheated as Althalos was
never given the stone. Jefferson suspected that in its anger it would decimate
the city and weaken its defences, thus allowing Vashna to attack and the people
to support him as you were no longer able to control the most important role as
king.”

Jacquard’s
stomach knotted. How could he have been so easily misled? How could he have
been oblivious to all the scheming and treachery around him?

 “I
have done my part; I shall now leave you to repair your kingdom. For what it’s
worth, I think you are a good king and I will always support you.”

“Wait,”
Jacquard shouted. Norva hesitated, one leg already outside the window. There
was one part of the story that did not make sense. “The stone, how did the
Order not know?” he asked. Norva shrugged.

“I
don’t know, maybe they are corrupt as well. I have proof if you doubt me,” she
said.

“Proof?”
he said. Norva pulled off the glove on her left hand. Jacquard gasped. It was
completely white, as if covered in chalk.

“The
day after the ceremony, I awoke to find my hand had turned colour to match that
of the stone I received. Check the others’ hands; they should all be the colour
of the stone they received. I guess it’s so they can’t hide,” she said and then
disappeared out of the window. Seconds later, Longshaw burst through the door,
with a handful of guards.

“You’re
too late,” Jacquard said.

Danzel Cotterill
sat in the Firelion Tavern sipping a tankard of plum ale. As usual he sat alone
and tried to ignore the other men around him. He grimaced as Sarina, the most
egregious serving wench, squealed when slapped by Terence Wainwright.

Terence roared
with laughter and then clinked his tankard with his goons. Danzel shook his
head and went back to rotating his cup in his hand. He vowed to leave the small
town of Meadowview and seek a more civilised residence. It was a vow he had
made numerous times before and one that he would inevitably make again.

An outburst of
laughter from the table of men caused him to drain the last of his ale and
stand up to leave.

The door of the
tavern burst open and an out of breath boy stood panting. He was red in the
face and sweat poured off him. The boy’s entrance had brought silence to the
tavern. Danzel had seen the boy playing about Meadowview but could not recall
his name.

“The Gloom has
reached Woodvale,” the boy said at last. Men jumped to their feet. Several
raced to their homes to retrieve their families. Tables were overthrown in the
chaos and more than a few people fell to the ground.

Danzel made
straight for the boy. He pulled him away from other people hurling questions at
him.

“Markus, water
for the boy, now,” Danzel yelled as he sat the youngster down. Behind the bar,
a short man with receding hair hurriedly filled a tankard and brought it round
to the small crowd gathering around the table.

The boy nodded
his appreciation as the cup was handed to him and drained the vessel in one
gulp.

“Tell us what
you know, lad,” Danzel said.

“I was playing
with Jimmy at the ridge when we saw a family running up the hill. We asked them
if they were okay as the man was holding two screaming children in his arms as
he urged his wife to keep up behind him. The man barely stopped but shouted as
he ran past us, that we better flee as the Gloom was destroying Woodvale and
had already decimated Deerhurst, Talloaks, Lockpass and Gachester,” the boy
said.

Several people
in the crowd gasped. A few more followed others out the door. Danzel’s mind
raced. How could the Gloom have reached Mantini already? He had heard about
whole cities being devastated in Aselina and Rora but was not aware the Gloom
had even reached Easterly Rock, let alone Mantini.

“Does anyone
know where my folks are?”

Before he could
answer, a scream from outside the tavern pierced Danzel’s ear drums. This was
swiftly followed by another and then a third. An almighty crash shook the walls
of the tavern. The shocked look on everyone’s faces in the tavern told the same
story. The Gloom had arrived in Meadowview.

*
* *

Jacquard
could barely contain himself as he was told of Althalos’s capture. In his wildest
dreams he never believed he would see his son so soon or even alive. He was
still in his night clothes but commanded he be brought before him straight
away. He quickly dressed and rushed down to the palace hall telling a servant
to fetch him a bucket of water on the way.

If
Norva had been telling the truth (and he was almost certain that she had been),
then his son was a free man. All the turmoil he had endured over the last
couple of weeks would be at an end. The crisis he faced as a king would be that
bit more bearable with his son alive and well.

He
reached the palace hall before Althalos. The room was empty. It was supposed to
show off the riches and grandeur of Lilyon with its expensive statues and
picturesque view, but with the limited number of people that ever entered the
room to appreciate its splendour, it had a sad feel to it.

Previously
it was used for great feasts to celebrate victories or the appointment of a new
warlord, but Jacquard had done away with such traditions, believing the elite
classes shouldn’t show off their wealth when there was suffering within the
regions. At the thought of seeing his son, he considered that perhaps the
feasts weren’t such a bad idea.

The
clang of the metal door handle reverberated around the hall. A flutter of
leaves blew into the hall, swirled around and danced in circles on the floor as
if they themselves had broken into the room and were enjoying it whilst they
could. The sight of Althalos being ushered into the hall brought tears to the
king’s eyes. Jacquard had been told the prince had been captured with another
man and he was also marched into the room. Jacquard recognised him as one of
the stoneholders on the gallows.

Jacquard
swelled with happiness at the sight of his son. Both captives looked in need of
a good wash. His son’s normally immaculate appearance was gone. Instead his
clothes were torn and his skin covered in soot, even his golden locks looked a
dirty yellow.

For
a brief moment the sight of his son in manacles angered him.

“Get
those bonds off him immediately,” he barked. One of the guards jumped to
attention and freed Althalos. The other prisoner held his arms up to be freed
but the guard ignored him. The prisoner shrugged and lowered his hands again.

Beaming,
Jacquard ordered the guards out of the hall. They obeyed and left the room
without questioning the order. The guard who unlocked Althalos’s hands tugged
on the other prisoner’s manacles, dragging him towards the door.

“He stays with
me,” Althalos said. The guard looked at Jacquard who nodded his agreement,
trusting his son’s judgement.

With
the three of them now alone, Jacquard reached down and threw the bucket of
water over his son. He instantly examined Althalos’s hands.

“What
in the three moons do you think you are doing?” Althalos said, but the end of
his sentence was muffled as Jacquard embraced him. He squeezed him as tight as
he could. Althalos let out a playful groan that made the king want to squeeze
him even more.

“You
are free, the stone was never meant for you!” he said as he held his son.

“What
do you mean free?” Althalos said, frowning as Jacquard finally relinquished
him. The puzzled expression on Althalos’s face made him laugh. He filled him in
on Norva Steele’s visit and Jefferson’s betrayal. When he had finished,
Althalos looked as confused and as hurt as Jacquard had felt when he heard the
news.

“Jefferson
has really been working against us all this time?” he said. Jacquard nodded.
His expression was now serious.

“When
I find him, he will know what it is like to deceive a friend and a king,”
Jacquard said.

“How
much do you think he has told Vashna?”

“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.