The Keeper of the Stones

Chapter 21



The Night of 14/15th August – En route to Erriard Forest - Rhuaddan



Sawdon twisted himself around in his saddle and looked back at the Northern Army which was sprawled out across the countryside for miles behind him, their armour and shields glinting majestically in the moonlight. He breathed in the cool night air with deep satisfaction. The veteran Thargw warrior was at his happiest now, riding to war with all the joy and excitement of an expectant father. This is what he lived for. It was what he’d always wanted to do and what he had trained for his whole life, the sole purpose of a Thargw’s existence, and the only thing that totally fulfilled him. He gazed backwards with pride at the army he now led. The King’s Personal Guard were flanking the extended column on either side and they were a magnificent sight to behold, riding their fabulous jet black horses with their chests puffed out with pride and their all-black uniforms and gold castle emblems catching the eye, making them instantly recognisable. They were all eager and alert, their eyes constantly scanning the horizon in each direction for any signs of the enemy and all of them prepared to ride into action at a moment’s notice. Sawdon’s eyes gleamed as he cast them over the rest of the column.

The army was following the old dirt track that meandered its way across the Astelli Plains from Heron Getracht and the Isle of Tialeu, to Erriard Forest. The Thargws at the front were all marching happily and singing their native battlesongs with gusto as they anticipated eagerly the battle ahead. Their songs were uplifting and all seemed to have the same message or theme, invariably proclaiming to everyone that, ‘The Thargws were on the march and heading to war!’ Thargw warriors sang for comradeship. They sang to warn or intimidate any enemies, or even allies, who listened. But most of all, they sang to warn their glorious dead, who now resided in the warrior’s paradise of Kalvanaar, that they were marching to battle and may soon be joining them in the hallowed halls. They were all thoroughly enjoying every minute of the march, and one particular chorus was being ‘belted out’ furiously, time and time again.

‘Sound the Battlehorn! Bang the drum!

Lift up your heads and roar,

Take up your swords, proclaim it loud,

The Thargws are going to War!

Marching to War, so stand aside,

And watch our banners soar,

Onwards and forward to victory...

Or we’ll meet in Kalvanaar!’

“Look at them!” said Sawdon proudly, as he listened to their song for the umpteenth time. “Is there any finer sight in this world than the Thargws marching to do battle?” he asked, turning himself back around to face Vantrax and Strymos.

“I cannot deny, they are a fine sight, Sawdon. I will concede that point to you happily.” replied Strymos. “It is a pity though, that the remainder of the Northern Army does not share their disciplined approach to war.” he added, pointing at the Dzorag and the Falorian Spearmen who followed behind the Thargws. Sawdon grunted and turned around to look behind him once again.

The mixed groups of soldiersand creatures following the Thargws were not such an inspiring sight. The Taskan Warriors were marching and looking smart enough, but the remainder of the army was a shambles to look at, particularly the ill-disciplined Dzorag, who were riding in no particular formation and looked more like a mixed rabble of brawlers than an army of mercenaries.

“You two should stop your moaning.” stated Vantrax suddenly. “It is a fact that they do not look like my Guard, or your Thargws, Sawdon. They are not so impressive when you look at them I agree, but I do not hire them for their attire. If they fight well for me in battle, I am willing to overlook their dress sense, and even some of their unsavoury personality traits. And I am told, they all fight well, do they not?” he asked of both commanders.

Sawdon and Strymos both replied to the question with a solitary nod of their head. It was unusual for both of them to be in agreement and that was twice now in the past few hours. They glanced at each other briefly in surprise, but quickly looked away as the contempt they felt for one another surfaced again. Both soldiers knew that King Vantrax had raised an important point. It was true that the King’s Northern Army was a makeshift force of mercenaries from differing regions across the two continents of Estia and Mynae, but it was comprised entirely of battle hardened soldiers who loved to fight. Most were volunteers who were being paid for their services, unlike the majority of the Southern Army, so their morale was good. They hadn’t tasted defeat on a battlefield for a very long time and had grown accustomed to being victorious. Controlling them in the heat of battle could often prove difficult for commanders, given the many different species and methods of waging war, but at least they had no concerns over their ability, or will to fight.

“I believe that you may both need reminding,” added Vantrax, who was feeling supremely confident of victory and would entertain no negative thoughts at this time, “that it is we who are the lucky ones. I have been deliberately selective over the years. My Northern Army contains only those tribes who I know can manage to co-exist. I have consciously divided the warring factions amongst my recruits. Poor Obreth commands a far more diverse and difficult force in the south. So, stop your whining and enjoy this moment with me.”

Vantrax was feeling good. They’d been riding and marching for several hours now and they had maintained a good pace. Even the Falorian Spearmen, who were normally lagging behind at this point, had managed to keep up with the column without complaining too much, and they were now over half way to Erriard Forest. At the pace they were setting, they would definitely be in position before daybreak, poised to attack the rebels at first light. Exactly as Vantrax had planned.

Sawdon shifted himself in his saddle once again, he grunted and moaned, then he began scratching a few imaginary itches. He gazed up at the night sky at nothing in particular. And finally, he spoke.

“Krarr! I think I will ride the column.” he shouted suddenly, in a firm, deep voice. The Thargw was bursting with nervous energy, awash with uncontrollable excitement that gave him the immediate need to do something. “Srrr, before I do, my King,” he said to Vantrax, deciding there and then to ask the question he’d been wanting to ask of him all night long, “I have decided that, if it is your wish sire, that I will lead my countrymen into battle. If you would allow it? With you yourself in command, and Strymos here beside you, I can be spared, surely? And I believe it is my rightful place. It is where I should be.” said pleadingly, before eagerly awaiting King Vantrax’ response.

Vantrax looked Sawdon straight in the eye as he thought long and hard about what he was asking. He knew that it was a huge risk letting him fight in the forthcoming battle. Despite his awesome ability, one stray arrow or slip...? He certainly didn’t want to lose Sawdon. The Thargw was his strongest warrior and ally, respected and revered by all of his army, and the local population were terrified of him and his reputation, a fact which had proved increasingly useful to the evil King. But he knew that the mighty warrior was right. He would not be happy watching from afar, he’d probably never forgive Vantrax for not allowing him to fight. And he was their best. ‘He’s right,’ he thought, ‘it is his place.’

“Oh, very well, Sawdon,” Vantrax replied, “go and tell your Thargws.”

Sawdon’s face erupted into an enormous smile. He was like a child who’d been given a new toy and he let out a mighty ‘Ra!’, as he turned his horse and galloped away swiftly down the column of soldiers that trailed far behind them. His reaction amused Vantrax but he tried hard to conceal it from Strymos, who was riding beside him.

As Sawdon reached and passed the Thargws at the head of the column they stopped singing and every single warrior began cheering loudly, hailing their mighty hero in the only way they knew. Sawdon’s chest swelled with pride, he rode into their midst for some distance and then stopped in the middle of them, waiting happily for what seemed like an age for the cheers to eventually subside a little. Then he held up his right arm and the noise abated.

“Warriors! I do not wish to delay your march to war my friends, so I shall be brief!” he shouted at the top of his considerable voice, to all the Thargws who had gathered around him. “I thought that I would share this wondrous news with you all. This joyous news! My gracious King Vantrax, ruler of all this land, has just decreed... That I, Sawdon, shall lead you into battle!!”

The Thargws were ecstatic. They all began cheering wildly at the news, embracing each other and slapping each other on their backs as if celebrating a great victory already won. The thunderous noise startled Sawdon’s horse beneath him and it reared up violently. Sawdon controlled it expertly and effortlessly, then he galloped away through the gap the Thargws made for him and down the rest of the column at high speed. The warriors all watched their hero leave and when he’d gone they immediately reformed their ranks to continue their march, bursting once again into song and singing louder than ever before. They were watched contentedly by King Vantrax.

“What is it about him?” asked Strymos, impressed, surprised and perplexed by the Thargws natural and unanimous reaction to Sawdon and his statement.

“Grar. You just do not get it, do you Strymos?” began Vantrax. “Sawdon is just another Thargw to you and I. But to those warriors, he is the embodiment of all a Thargw could, and should, be! To them, he is already a living legend. One of their creed who always leads by example with the deeds he does, and the Thargw he is. I should not have to explain this to you, but those young soldiers, they all, to a Thargw, wish that they were him. Wish they could be more like him. To have his strength, his power, his sense of Thargw honour. That is why I had to let him fight. Though I do not wish to lose him, he inspires others. They will not dare to fail him, and I know they will fight twice as hard with him leading them.” stated the evil King, wioyolint in his eye.

“I see sire.” Strymos replied, feeling extremely envious of the respect and adulation shown to his fellow Gerada.

“Char! You do not see at all, Strymos!” Vantrax disagreed sharply. “Your world is governed by greed. You have no courage, no honour. That is why I like you. But I do not, and I never will, trust you. You would betray me without a second thought if you had the chance, for the right price. And if you had the courage. I have no such worries with Sawdon. And I never will. Do you see now?” he asked, staring at the red faced Gerada by his side.

Strymos didn’t answer. He was genuinely surprised that Vantrax was able to sum him up so well, having thought he had earned his trust and respect. He knew his own deficiencies and couldn’t deny the truth in his master’s words.

Meanwhile, Sawdon had reached the end of the column where the many volunteers from all the different regions were marching; the Petrosyian footsoldiers in their scaled Jintan armour which hung down to their thighs and their distinct, pointed, Jintan helmets. The Nadjan Archers in their dark green tunics. The Siatol and Ursium volunteers with their brightly coloured, differing armour and clothes that were determined by their allegiance to individual lord or noble. And the Rhuaddan volunteers; the soldiers and serfs who fought for Vantrax to escape death or slavery, alongside those who did so willingly in the pursuit of wealth and/or power.

He stopped his horse and looked up at the night sky again. ‘Another hour or so,’ he thought, ‘and we will be there, on the outskirts of Erriard Forest’.

He walked his horse back along the column, reaching the front just as the forest appeared on the horizon, silhouetted against the moonlit sky and still far away in the distance.

“There it is!” he said, pointing at it with his outstretched arm, aware that his eyesight was far superior to that of his companions. “There is a small rise not far from the entrance to the forest, it looks like excellent ground. I suggest we concentrate our army there, with our commanders on the ridge so that they may see what is happening. The Guard can be posted around the ridge and the rest can fan out along its length and onto the plains. Rarr! We will move into position immediately. We will be ready to attack at first light, my King! Just as you have ordered.”