The Keeper of the Stones

Chapter 40



17th August – The Pursuit of the Rebels



The entire Rebel Army now poised to leave Soreen village knew how much depended upon the success of Jake’s mission to find Tien. Without the wizard, the stones couldn’t be restored. And without the stones, the Rebellion had little hope of combating King Vantrax’ evil magic and winning the war. King Artrex watched the three friends disappear over the horizon and then mounted his horse. He waited for the other riders to do the same and then waved the new army forward. The ground beneath them shook as thousands of horses, men and women began walking at the same time. It was still early morning in Rhuaddan, the sun was shining brightly and there was a cool easterly breeze blowing across the open fields which caressed the soldier’s cheeks, like a long lost friend. It was yet another beautiful day as the rebels headed for Nadjan and the besieged city of Dassilliak.

They journeyed for several hours and for some distance without incident, the King riding happily beside his daughter and Queen Bressial, with Lord Castrad following closely behind, still refusing to let his cousin out of his sight now that she’d been safely delivered back into his care. The pace of their march in the first few hours was painfully slow, many of the soldiers in the new army were on foot, wearing old, worn out shoes or no shoes at all, and there was a shortage of horses and transport, which hampered their progress. It was beginning to seriously concern the King.

“Raaargh!” he suddenly shouted in frustration, startling all those around him. “We will be caught in the open if we cannot increase the pace. We are far too slow. It will not do!” he shouted angrily.

“I agree father,” answered Princess Zephany, sharing Artrex’ concern that the enemy might catch them, “can I suggest something? Castrad and I can take some soldiers with us and ride into the surrounding villages and towns? We can borrow and steal if we have to, we need carts and wagons and horses. In the circumstances, I think…”

“Yes, daughter. A fine idea.” answered Artrex, interrupting her before she’d finished her sentence. “Only, we do not want to make enemies of our people, we will only take that which is freely given. Wait, daughter… Castrad can go, I want you here with me.” he added, stopping Zephany before she had chance to leave and glancing over regally at the Nadjan noble.

Castrad heard the order and looked quickly over at Queen Bressial, seeking her approval but trying, and failing, to hide his instinctive response from the King. Bressial nodded her permission and he raced away to organise the search. When he was out of earshot, the King leaned over to Queen Bressial.

“I think we all know where Castrad’s loyalties lie.” he stated. Bressial smiled at him and they both laughed aloud.

As they continued riding south in the glorious sunshine, they talked of the old days before the war and Bressial’s captivity, enjoying their new found freedom and reflecting together on what, and who, had bbe t about the sudden and remarkable reversal in their fortunes. Within hours, the soldiers who had been sent with Castrad began reporting back to King Artrex in small groups, bringing with them horses, wagons and carts, anything that could be used to transport goods and people. It was the beginning of a process which would continue throughout the whole of their journey, and it would enable the new Rebel Army to move at an ever increasing pace.

Artrex was now happier than he’d been for a very long time. After countless years of suffering, after numerous defeats and an almost endless succession of retreats, he found himself once again at the head of an army whose morale was high, facing an uncertain future perhaps, but with renewed resolve and hope. The King was also enjoying the fact that he had his beloved daughter by his side. For the first time in his life he realised just how much she meant to him, and what a fine person and leader she’d become. As they rode together they began to talk openly. Zephany was surprised at first, taken aback by the sudden show of interest, affection and warmth from her usually reticent father. She noted with amazement the change in him, he wasn’t the hard-nosed warrior he’d always been to her, he was being both caring and loving, and what’s more, he didn’t seem to mind who saw it. It shocked her to see him acting this way. She couldn’t understand the reasons for the change.

‘It can only be the influence of Ben.’ she thought. ‘He has spent a good deal of time with my father in the last day or so. Or maybe it is the sudden loss of his best friend, Knesh?’ Whatever the reason for the change, though it felt uncomfortable to her at first, she welcomed it and responded in kind.

At the large villages of Bouatol and Dalkur, as well as in several smaller hamlets along the way, new volunteers joined their ranks and by nightfall they had reached Givitar, another large village situated near to the point where the great Rivers of Ilan and Ipson merged, on the road to the city of Arralfleon. The first day’s march had thankfully been uneventful. Surprisingly, there appeared to be no sign of the chasing Northern Army. In fact, there was no sign of the enemy at all, save for a few small routine patrols which retreated very quickly from their path once the size of their force became apparent.

Before he retired to go to sleep, as he settled down with Zephany by a warm fire in a field outside Givitar, Artrex looked up at the stars above and prayed that their luck would last.

At dawn on the 18th August, a runner came charging swiftly into camp from the direction of the northern sentry post. Everyone was woken by the alert to hear the news that a patrol of around a dozen enemy soldiers had been sighted. Artrex raced outside with Bressial, Castrad and Zephany to see for himself. They rode as fast as they could the short distance to the outpost and an old Ruddite captain, a veteran of many years, greeted them with his instant report.

“They are over there, sire! Over the horizon, just out of sight. They are watching us right now.” he said, pointing to a far away treeline on the hill. “Around twelve of them I would say, must be Dzorag. They were heard in the night riding up to our position, we had a good view of them against the moonlit sky, we would have ambushed them, but they stopped when they realised we were here. They have not approached us since. They seem to be keeping their distance, watching us. They are not in sufficient numbers to attack us yet, but may I suggest we...”

“Move?” interrupted the King. “Yes my old friend, give the orders, right now! Double up on the horses, put the slowest of our nber in the wagons, we must move as fast as we can. Where there are Dzorag, my brother and Sawdon will not be far behind!”

Everyone in the rebel camp began rushing around frantically preparing for an immediate departure and the whole army was moving again within minutes. Some of the less essential items were deliberately left behind as per instructions to lighten their loads. They raced as fast as they could to the Ilan River, where they all rested briefly as each of them waited for their turn to cross the narrow, wooden bridge. Once again, the delay in crossing the river seriously worried the King. He was fully expecting the enemy to attack and he had lookouts posted on all sides to warn of any approaching forces.

But once more, Artrex was astonished and relieved to learn that there was still no sign of Vantrax or his army. No one could understand it. Least of all, King Artrex.

‘What are you doing, brother?’ he asked himself. ‘We are at your mercy. We are tired and in no condition to fight, with our backs to the river. This is the opportunity you have been waiting for. You could destroy us now with ease. So where are you???’

* * *



On the morning of the 17th August, King Vantrax was rudely awoken by the sound of a sword clinking against armour. It was incessant, and it was coming from right outside his tent. He tried his best to ignore it at first, but it wouldn’t stop, and it was now really getting on his nerves. It was barely light outside and the King rose slowly from his makeshift bed, his fury at being disturbed in such a fashion boiling up gradually inside his aching body until finally, he could take no more. He grabbed the flap of his tent and swept it aside, peering outside to identify the culprit responsible for the infernal racket.

Before him, already fully dressed in his armour and ready to go to war, was the mighty and impressive sight of Sawdon. He was pacing furiously up and down like a madman possessed. Vantrax was just about to scold the Thargw warrior for his actions, but Sawdon caught sight of his King and the excited Gerada managed to speak first.

“Kraar... Morning, my King. You are awake, good! It is time to move. First light you said. The enemy has a good start on us so we must hurry! My Thargws are ready to move now, as are the soldiers of your Personal Guard.” he said, deliberately stopping at that point and unusually failing to deliver a full report.

Vantrax stared at him angrily for a second or two, the intended scolding choking in his throat whilst he was deciding how best to respond to his warrior’s eagerness.

“Raarr! First light to you, Sawdon, obviously means something different than it does to the rest of us! Well, I am up now. I suppose you are right. I will prepare to move.” he replied, turning slightly to re-enter his tent. He stopped suddenly, as he remembered what Sawdon had said, intrigued at the inadequate nature of his Gerada’s report. It was completely out of character and he turned back to face the Thargw.

“You only mentioned a small part of my army, Sawdon. Why is that? What of the rest?”

Sawdon looked back at his King, he was clearly disappointed by something. After a very short pause, he spoke freely, but there was anger and frustration burning in his eyes.

“This army is ill-disciplined. It is no surprise to me when you see who commands it. Strymos struts around like a prancing filak! But he achieves nothing. He does not get his hands dirty at all. Though he is no doubt quick enough to condemn those who do. His soldiers have no respect for him. They do not fear him, and they behave as they wish!” he shouted defiantly. “I apologise my King for speaking so, but the truth must be told! The best of your soldiers are ready to move, as I have said. I myself will lead them, if that is your wish. But the Dzorag fools are mostly drunk, though ‘Kalvanaar’s Maids’ only know where they stole the ale! The Falorians are all still in their beds. They obviously consider that they overperformed yesterday, and have earned the right to a lie in!” he said wryfully. “The Taskans, I am informed, are out hunting for food. They are refusing to move until they have eaten. And the remainder of this disgrace of an army are still asleep, having worked hard through the day and into the night yesterday disposing of the dead. At least they have a reasonable excuse!” he shouted angrily.

Vantrax began shouting and bawling so loud that he woke many of the sleeping soldiers on the plains below the ridge, all of whom now came out of their tents to see what all the commotion was. Eventually, Vantrax ordered Sawdon to fetch the hapless Strymos before him. The mighty warrior disappeared quickly down the ridge to find the sleeping Gerada. The King walked back into his tent to dress himself with his armour and sword while he was waiting for them to return.

Several minutes later, he heard the unmistakeable sound of the two warriors approaching his tent. His foul mood had still not improved and he stepped outside furiously to greet them, aware that almost all of the surrounding soldiers of the Northern Army were watching them from the plains below their elevated position.

“My King, I am reporting to you as ordered.” said Strymos nervously, as he knelt down on one knee and bowed his head. Vantrax looked down on him with anger and disdain.

“Strymos, answer me now, is my army ready to move?” the King asked bluntly, in a deliberately loud voice that all around could hear.

“Srrr... Yes, and no sire.” replied Strymos cagily. “The Thargws and some of the others can go now my liege, they will be ahead of the rest of the army who will be able to move by midday.” he answered honestly, anticipating an angry response from the evil wizard. He stood up to face the King’s wrath. Vantrax began walking up and down slowly in front of Strymos as he spoke. His words were now slow and deliberate.

“That is not what I wanted to hear, Strymos!” he stated angrily as he paced, nodding at Sawdon slightly as he passed him so that Strymos didn’t see. “Indeed, your whole performance so far on this campaign has not been good, has it Strymos? You have not served me well of late, have you? You have grown sloppy. You have a vast army at your disposal, and yet you have failed me!” Vantrax raged.

The evil wizard was about to continue his rant, but Strymos suddenly snapped and stupidly interrupted him.

“My King! That is not fair! I have failed you? What about...”

A great Thargw battlesword suddenly came swinging down out of the sunlit sky. It seemed to whistle in the wind it was moving so rapidly and it struck down viciously onto Strymos, almost cleaving him in two. Death was immediate and he fell in a heap on the floor at Vantrax’ feet.

Sawdon gave an evil smile and wiped his blade on the fur of his leg, then he calmly placed his sword back into its scabbard. The entire army below them on the plains stared with disbelief and shock at having just witnessed the execution of their popular commander. The soldiers couldn’t believe what they had seen and they all froze, lost for a response. King Vantrax turned to face them, with Sawdon at his side.

“Soldiers! Today is a new beginning! The old ways of Strymos are no longer acceptable. It is not how this army will behave. From now on, you will all be expected to behave like Thargws. You will be disciplined. You will be merciless. You will obey my every command to the letter. You will do all of this, or you will not be paid! Disobedience, laziness, incompetence and failure will no longer be tolerated. The penalty for failure is death! Sawdon leads you now, and anyone who displeases me, will answer to him!” he shouted loudly, at the top of his voice.

The warriors in the audience were all still too shocked to speak. When Vantrax had finished talking, a rather pleased looking Sawdon stepped forward to address them.

“Yaarrggh! Captains! Prepare your soldiers to move! Report to me as soon as you are ready. Zaknar! Where is Zaknar?” he shouted fiercely.

The Dzorag leader stepped forward and strode lazily up the ridge to face Sawdon, he approached him without speaking a word.

“Rraaagh… Zaknar, send a patrol to Soreen now. A dozen or so fit, sober Dzorag Hunters. They are to find the rebel army and follow them, they are not to attack them! They will be our eyes and ears until we catch up, do you understand?” growled Sawdon, with more than a hint of threat echoing in his voice. Zaknar nodded and grunted. “And send six of your fastest riders to the Southern Army. They are to warn them of the flight of the rebels. The Southern Army are to turn to meet this threat to their rear as best they can, whilst holding their lines. Between us, we will destroy this force before it has chance to meet with the enemy in the south!”

Zaknar nodded again to indicate that he understood, he turned slowly and walked away, Sawdon then addressed the rest of the army.

“Move you lazy rachtis! Move!” he growled, in a mighty roar that scared them all. “We have an army to catch! We have already given them far too much time to run. I want to be ready to move within the hour!” he added.

In fact, it was a little over an hour before they were underway. At long last, the chase was on. The Northern Army though was a cumbersome force, slowed considerably by the Falorian Spearmen and others. Though the evil King and his Thargw Gerada wanted to get to Soreen as fast as possible, they knew that if the rebels fled, they may have to concede that they would be unlikely to catch them and relax the pace, secure in the knowledge that Artrex would probably be running directly towards Obreth’s awaiting Southern Army, destined to be trapped between two opposing forces, both of which considerably outnumbered them. This meant that Vantrax and Sawdon merely had to follow the rebels and wait until they could destroy them in a battle on two fronts.

The fledgling army of slaves and freed prisoners was in very real danger of becoming the meat, in a particularly nasty sandwich!