Only Stones Remain (Ballad of Frindoth Book 4)

by Rob Donovan

  Jensen heard the familiar chirrup of small birds. Again he squinted to try and focus. Goater took the birds from the tray and put them on the floor. Jensen felt a sudden sense of unease. He tried to speak but no words were forthcoming only saliva that trickled towards his nostrils. Goater stamped on the chicks one by one. Each time there was a sickening squelch. The chirping grew gradually quiet and then stopped altogether. Jensen screamed in anger but all he heard was a muffled cry as if he had been gagged.

  Goater wiped the sole of his boot on the ground scraping off the remains of the birds. He pointed at the mess on the floor.

  "Your fault," he said before he turned and took the thing which struggled in the other guard's arms. It let out a little yelp as it dangled in Goater’s hand. Jensen realised it must have been a small dog. No, please no, Jensen screamed but the words were in his mind. He could not articulate them. He could not understand why the two Lakisdorean guards just stood by and let this happen. Goater used both hands and began to squeeze the animal. It whined in Goater's grip. The whines grew more frantic as Goater applied more pressure until the dog whimpered and spluttered at the same time. Jensen tried to block out the sound. He clamped his hands over his ears but it did not block out the sounds of desperation and pain. He swung on the rope trying to reach the Shaman but it was useless; he could not get close to him. Even if Jensen did reach Goater, he could not see well enough to do anything to save the dog. "Plseeeee," Jensen said and a sob escaped his lips as frustration over powered him. There was a snap and the bundle of fur went limp in Goater's arms. As furious as Jensen was he was relieved that he had not been able to see the whole ordeal clearly. The guards had not moved during the murders.

  "Your fault," Goater repeated.

  How? Why? Why was it Jensen's fault? Why was he being blamed? What was he being blamed for? What was the point of this? What was Goater trying to prove? This was no treatment. This was no conditioning. It was a nightmare.

  Goater turned to the first guard. One swift movement later and the guard collapsed to the floor clutching at his neck. Jensen heard the horrible gargling noise and made out the familiar red line across the guard's neck.

  "Your fault,"

  How is it my fault? What did I do wrong? Jensen knew what was about to happen and willed the second guard to flee. He tried to speak but could make no sound. Goater stood before the second guard and then struck with his blade. The deaths were meaningless. There was no need. The guard fell across the bodies of the others and a pile of bodies began to form.

  "Your fault," said Goater.

  Jensen did not understand why, but he needed to figure it out soon. He felt like an idiot failing to grasp a simple instruction. He began to feel responsible. It he did not understand the lesson soon then the next deaths would be his fault. Goater turned back to the table and rang the bell. It was the last thing Jensen heard before darkness took him, his mind full of images of needless death and intense guilt.

  ***

  He came to spluttering as icy water was thrown over him. He blinked and wiped the water from his eyes. He sat up, before realising he could sit up. He was finally free of the rope; finally free of dangling upside down. He was also in a different location. He looked around expecting to see Goater and found he was in alone. He was in some sort of hut; the walls were made from logs as was the door, a large fire blazed from a brazier in the centre of one of the rooms. It hissed and crackled as smoke billowed up the chimney. The moment he saw the fire he realised how hot he was, sweat poured from his skin. He had been placed on a pallet cushioned with straw and some of it stuck to his bare skin. In the corner, a table was situated under a wall of shelves; however, it was devoid of Goater's instruments and potions. It did however, contain a glass canister filled with what looked like water. A glass sat next to it.

  Jensen shuffled over to the table; he staggered as a bout of wooziness overtook him. He held his hands out to balance himself and waited until the room stopped spinning. Images of the dog and dead chicks flashed in his mind and he tried to push them away as quickly as they had appeared.

  He reached the table and lifted the canister to his nose. The liquid was odourless and he was sure it was water. Even so, he poured only the smallest drop into the glass before tentatively trying it. It tasted good and he poured more taking several gulps before placing the cool glass to his forehead. He was about to pour himself another glass when the door burst open behind him. The noise made him jump and he dropped the glass sending it clattering to the table surface. It began to roll towards the edge but he managed to get his body in the way just in time.

  "What was the point of that?" Jensen said as he righted the glass. He was relieved he could talk again and opened his mouth wide to make sure it still worked.

  "How are you feeling?"

  Jensen whirled around and smiled at the voice. He had expected the Shaman but Hemmel Thane stood in the doorway. The burly weapon master checked behind him before stepping into the hut and shutting the door. He was red faced and breathed heavily. He was dressed in light armour; padded vest and trousers underneath a dark cloak. A sword was strapped to his waist.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Getting you out," Hemmel Thane said. As he spoke he closed the window shutters peering through them as he did.

  "What do you mean?"

  "What do you mean, what do I mean? I suppose you like being poisoned every hour, do you?"

  "No, but isn't this what you wanted?"

  "No."

  Jensen frowned, the effects of the last drink Goater had given him still addling his mind. He was suddenly conscious he was naked and saw his clothes neatly folded by the pallet. He covered his penis and moved over to them, putting them on as quickly as he could.

  "Can you fight?" Hemmel Thane asked. He did not seem to notice Jensen's embarrassment.

  "My name is Kisvar Zavos isn't it?" Jensen said.

  "Don't get cute," Hemmel Thane said. "What have they said to you?"

  "Nothing," Jensen said. The weapon master's sudden appearance and questions confused him. He was still surprised that Hemmel Thane spoke to him civilly.

  "What colour drinks you had?"

  "Orange," Jensen said.

  "Just orange?"

  "Yes, but they tasted different. They made me behave differently and act unusually."

  "But you, are you?"

  "What does that mean?"

  Hemmel Thane pulled a dagger from inside the cloak he wore and tossed it to Jensen. Jensen fumbled the catch and it fell to the floor, the blade nicking his finger and drawing blood. Jensen waited to be chastised. He was sure there was a rule about not being able to handle weapons that were tossed to him.

  "It means are you still Jensen? Are your thoughts still your own? Do you still like Groadan and that serving wench?"

  "Naila?"

  "Whatever her name is. Are your thoughts still yours?"

  "I hate you," Jensen said and grinned.

  "Good enough," Hemmel Thane said. He pressed his back to the far wall and opened the shutter slightly. "There are two guards positioned in front of the trees about twenty yards away. We will need to kill them. From there another six are scattered about. Cordane is nearby too so we will have to be extra careful. If we are caught by him we will be dead in minutes."

  "Wait, how did you get in?"

  "The trees and then the roof. We are wasting time. When I open the door, run out and to the left. Keep low; there are a row of bushes that will shield us."

  Jensen’s head ached. He did not recall any trees being nearby when he was last put in a tent.

  “Wait, where are we? The last I remember I was in Goater’s tent”

  “That was over a week ago. You were moved since then.”

  “A week!”

  “Ssssh we need to be quiet.”

  Jensen picked up the dagger, it wasn't much but it would do at close quarters. Hemmel Thane took a deep breath; he looked flustered and had grown pale; his scar look
ing ugly against his white skin. Jensen had never seen him look vulnerable and he did not like it.

  “You ready?” Hemmel Thane said.

  Jensen nodded and then realising that the weapon master was not looking at him said “yes.” Was he really doing this? Was he going to attempt to escape the whole of Cordane’s army? He shook his head to get rid the remnants of grogginess he still felt.

  Hemmel Thane turned to face him. The fear etched on his face was unfamiliar. Something was wrong with the man who had always been so calm. Nothing had fazed the weapon master for as long as Jensen had known him. There was a pleading in his eyes but Jensen did not know why. It appeared as if Hemmel Thane did not believe they could escape.

  “On the count of three we go, you first then me,” Hemmel Thane said. The weapon master pulled a face and winced. Was he trying to tell Jensen something? The man pulled his sword and held it up in front of him.

  “One,” Hemmel Thane said and looked down at his hand. He lifted two fingers off the hilt of his sword before replacing them. He then raised four fingers. What was he trying to say? Two, four what did that mean? Twenty-four? The answer came to him in a flash. Rule number twenty-four, ‘If something appeared too easy then the chances are it is. Don’t trust it.”

  “Two,”

  Jensen did not hesitate. He hurled the knife at the door where it wedged in the wood inches from Hemmel Thane’s head. The weapon master offered the briefest of smiles before rounding on Jensen.

  “What in the Gloom’s name do you think you are doing?”

  “Do you seriously think I was going to join you? I made my choice and I am not going back on it just because you barge in here and tell me to. You may have taught me how to fight but I have already surpassed you in every way.”

  “You are a fool. They will destroy you,” Hemmel Thane said and advanced on Jensen. He had not expected this and searched for something to defend himself with. If Hemmel Thane was putting on an act it would not stop him from making it realistic. He would hurt Jensen if he had to.

  “Turn around and leave Hemmel and I might not tell them you came to break me out,” Jensen said as he backed away. He brushed up against the table and reached behind him for the canister.

  “I don’t believe you. It is clear you have made your choice. My life is forfeit if you will not join me. I might as well take you with me. Hemmel Thane lunged and Jensen barely managed to shift his body out of the way before the blade could gut him. He swung the canister but the weapon master blocked the blow with his arm, knocking the canister out of Jensen’s hand in the process. It fell to the floor and shattered.

  The door crashed open and Cordane, Sharoon and Goater stood on the threshold of the hut.

  “Enough,” Cordane said. Jensen and Hemmel Thane jumped apart, the latter glaring at Jensen. Cordane strolled into the room sizing both men up. His eyes narrowed at the smashed canister. Behind him came the tap, tap, tap, of Sharoon’s cane. Goater had replaced the silver lip rings with ones of bronze and green.

  “Did he pass?” Cordane asked.

  “I think so. He hesitated initially but I am not sure if he was just stringing me along,” Hemmel Thane said. He rubbed his arm and moved to stand by Sharoon.

  Cordane moved closer to Jensen and stared into his eyes. Jensen tried to relax but the scrutiny of Cordane’s stare was unnerving. Still, he refused to look away. Cordane closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as if he possessed the ability to smell the truth. Jensen thought about not looking at Hemmel Thane but then figured that would look suspicious. He settled for glaring at the weapon master believing that would have been his most natural reaction having learned Hemmel Thane had tried to deceive him.

  Cordane opened his eyes, registered the hatred from Jensen and the look of boredom on Hemmel Thane’s expression and nodded.

  “Are they telling the truth?” Cordane asked. It was not clear whom he addressed the question to until Sharoon answered.

  “I believe they are,” the old lady said without hesitating. She answered a little too quickly for Jensen’s liking. From the way Cordane’s head snapped in her direction he shared the sentiment. Sharoon merely lent forward with two hands resting on the cane and raised an eyebrow. It was the most defiant act Jensen had seen in front of Cordane and amazingly the Warlock did not seem to mind.

  “So you are with us then?” Cordane asked.

  For a moment Jensen was once again confused as to who Cordane addressed the question. “Yes,”

  “Are you sure?” Cordane said and this time he turned to face Jensen. Goater moved to the door and locked it with a key from his pocket. Sharoon shook her head sadly and moved to one side of the cabin.

  “I am sure.”

  “Prove it.” Cordane said and he asked Hemmel Thane for his sword which he held out to Jensen. Jensen took it and stepped back; it felt heavy in his hand, heavier than any other sword. He was not sure whether the sword weighed more than any other or he imagined it because of the situation he found himself in.

  “What do you want me to do?” Jensen asked. He had a feeling he was not going to like whatever Cordane had to say.

  “Kill him,” the Warlock said and nodded behind him to Hemmel Thane. Jensen’s mouth fell open and he looked at the weapon master. Hemmel Thane did not move other than the smallest of twitches to one side of his mouth. “Do I sense hesitation? Surely if you were that angry at him you would want to kill him? Or perhaps you are still too sensitive?” As he asked the last question Cordane looked at the Shaman.

  Goater shifted from side to side, he rotated one of the rings in his lips with his tongue and looked more nervous than anyone in the room. Jensen supposed the Shaman’s methods were also being called into question.

  “He will do it,” Goater said with a lot more confidence than his body language suggested.

  “I don’t like to be kept waiting boy,” Cordane said and there was a menacing edge to his voice that frightened Jensen.

  He gripped the sword and nodded to himself. Just as he was about to move toward Hemmel Thane, Cordane spoke again.

  “Wait. Hemmel Thane, turn around. I don’t want you to look at Kisvar Zavos in any way. I don’t want there to be any communication or any exchange between you. This killing has to be conducted in cold blood.”

  Hemmel Thane turned around and faced the door. Beside him Sharoon’s head dropped. A sinister smile appeared on Cordane’s face at her discomfort. The room was silent but inside Jensen’s head roared. He had spent so long hating Hemmel Thane but over time their mutual respect had gradually eroded that dislike into something akin to acceptance. It was clear Hemmel Thane was as much a victim of circumstance as Jensen. He had just disguised his role in the game better.

  His hand shook as he neared the man. He thought back to one morning in the practice yard, it had been two weeks before the tournament. A time when Jensen had become more than proficient with a plethora of weapons. Hemmel Thane had told Jensen to select a weapon of his choice and then attack him. The weapon master had then turned his back on Jensen just like now. Jensen had of course selected the sword and when he attacked, Hemmel Thane had avoided the blow at the last minute and swiftly unarmed him.

  Now Jensen willed the weapon master to do the same. He realised he did not want to kill Hemmel Thane but he also knew he had to make it look like he wanted to. Hemmel Thane knew this also and it appeared he was prepared to sacrifice himself for the ruse and to make Jensen’s life easier. No one had looked out for him like this for a long time and Jensen had a lump in his throat as he raised the sword.

  One thrust through the back of the neck would do it. It would be the quickest way. Hemmel Thane would not feel a thing.

  “I sense your hesitation boy,” Cordane goaded.

  Jensen contemplated striking Cordane instead. It was what he wanted to do more than anything else but he knew it would be futile. Cordane would anticipate the move even before Jensen began to move. Jensen passed the Warlock and held the sword high level with his che
ek.

  He reached one hand out to place on Hemmel Thane’s shoulder so he could gain more purchase as he thrust the sword with the other. He wanted the stab to be true; he did not want the weapon master to suffer.

  “Ah, too slow,” Cordane said. Before Jensen could react, he found himself propelled through the air; he travelled the length of the room until he collided with the top of the shelves on the far wall. The air went out of his lungs as the shelves broke in two and both they and Jensen slid down the wall onto the table which promptly toppled over.

  Jensen lay dazed, stars swimming before his eyes and wondering what on earth had just happened.

  “Goater, he needs more conditioning; a lot more. I want him ready by next week. Accelerate the treatment,” Cordane said.

  “Yes master,” Goater said and moved to unlock the door as Cordane neared. He fumbled with the key as his hands shook but somehow managed to compose himself before Cordane reached him.

  Hemmel Thane turned to look at Jensen and mouthed the words ‘run’ to him. Jensen frowned. How was he supposed to do that? The weapon master then looked at Sharoon.

  “I love you mother,” he said before Cordane clicked his fingers and Hemmel Thane’s neck rotated one hundred and eighty degrees and snapped.

  Chapter 11

  Tatanya placed the back of her hand to the Queen’s brow and smiled. The fever had broken. Mirinda’s eyes fluttered open and a smile appeared as she saw the young girl standing over her.