Ritual of the Stones (Ballad of Frindoth) (2 page)

Marybeth
stretched in the midday sun as her horse drank from the river. It was hot and
all traces of the thunderstorm had evaporated. She had made good progress
despite the fact there was no real need to. The stones were located in
Longcombe, which was less than three days’ ride. Midsummer’s day when the
Ritual would take place was still over two weeks away.

Iskandar’s
words echoed in her ears. It was unusual for three stones to be located in the
same place, but Marybeth was unsure of the significance. Iskandar certainly
seemed to insinuate there was some meaning behind it though. She had not wanted
to appear stupid and question him as to what he was implying, but now wished she
had.

Not
that the leader of the Order could be trusted. A surge of anger swept over her
as thoughts of her childhood resurfaced. She forced them from her mind. Now was
not the time.

Thirst
quenched, her horse ambled over to where she stood and watched her. When she
made no move to him, he snorted and then wandered off to stand in the shade of
some nearby trees.

She
regarded the horse for a short while. He was an impressive stallion. His brown
coat shone in the glow of the sun giving definition to his powerful legs. She
was not affectionate with horses and did not believe in getting attached to an
animal used for transport. This stallion had been with her for over two years,
though, and had served her well. Maybe she should give him a name.

Her
head was beginning to hurt with the myriad of thoughts racing through her mind.
She went over to the river and splashed her face. The icy water did little to
ease her concerns but the shock of the coldness felt good on her skin.

She
watched a school of fish swim aimlessly. They darted along a short distance and
then stopped as if forgetting where they were going in such a hurry.
I can
identify with that,
the young woman thought. She was racing to a village to
deliver devastating news to three families and make sure they attended the Ritual
when her true purpose for joining the Order was to stop the Ritual from
happening.

Was
that true, though? Did she really care for the lives of the families she was
about to disrupt? Before she joined the Order she could say with honesty that
she did. In the years that followed, however, Iskandar had opened her eyes to
far greater things. He had taught her skills that set her far above the average
commoner. She had learned that whilst it was shocking when death occurred to an
individual, the bigger picture must always be considered. Did one death affect
Frindoth in the great scheme of things?

She
continued to watch the fish. They had now all turned and were making their way
against the flow of the current. Were people any different than fish? She
dropped a rock into the water and watched them disperse, before coming back
together and continuing their pointless journey. Frindoth would do the same
once the Ritual had dropped its rock on it.

“It’s
tough, isn’t it?”

Marybeth
jumped to her feet, startled by the man’s voice. He was standing by her horse
stroking his mane. How had she not heard him? The man had a pleasant face which
was partially covered by long blond locks. He wore a red calf-length tunic over
jade hosen. The combination did not match but oddly did not look out of place
on the man.

“Get
away from my horse,” Marybeth said as her eyes located her sword resting against
the tree trunk next to the stranger. She cursed her stupidity at leaving
herself so defenceless.

The
man removed his hands from the horse and kept them raised in a show of peace.
Not knowing what to do next, she went over and began to saddle the horse. The
horse shifted as it sensed Marybeth’s misgivings.

“Please
do not leave on my account. I was just trying to empathise with how tough it
is,” he said. He had a quiet confidence in his tone that irked her.

“What
is?” she barked.

“Knowing
where to begin,” he replied. His response surprised her. She stopped what she
was doing and turned to face him.

“What
are you talking about?”

“The
dilemma you are now faced with, of course. Do you work to prevent the Ritual
and defeat the Gloom, or do you carry on in ignorance as Frindoth has done for
years.”

“I
don’t know what you are talking about. My role is to escort the stone bearers
to the Ritual and make sure it takes place without incident. That is all.”

She
finished adjusting the straps to the horse and began to lead it away.

“I
agree, and I applaud your commitment.”

Marybeth
nodded but kept on walking. She was spooked. How could the man have possibly
known what she was thinking?

“For
what it is worth, I agreed with your father,” the man called after her.
Marybeth froze. Her legs went weak and she had to lean on the horse to remain
upright.

“You
knew my father?” she said, turning back to the man. He did not look familiar
even though it had been a long time since her father had died. Still, she
thought she would be able to recognise one of his friends even now. This man
seemed too young, though.

“Regretfully
no,” the man replied. He then smiled as if he really did feel remorse over not
knowing him. “But I shared his beliefs, Marybeth, and I think deep down you do
too.”

Marybeth
was speechless. How could this man know anything about her? How had he even
found her? Had he been following her? If so, for how long and why had she not
detected him? She recalled her father and fought back tears.

Her
father was the main reason Marybeth joined the Order in the first place. He
believed the Gloom could be defeated and there was no reason why someone had to
be sacrificed every twelve years. Her whole life had been spent trying to
discover why he thought this, but despite establishing herself first as
Iskandar’s apprentice and then a fully fledged member of the Order, she was
still no nearer to discovering the truth.

“Care
to join me for lunch?” the stranger said and then sat down by the river and
began setting out an assortment of food from his bag.

Marybeth
hesitated. Despite his pleasant demeanour, the man concerned her. He knew who
she was, yet he did not appear to be afraid of her in the slightest. It was
something Marybeth was not used to and it made her uneasy. Her instinct was to
run away.

“Sit,”
the man said almost casually and then motioned for her to sit by him.

Marybeth
scoffed at the order.

“I
don’t think so,” she said. The man did not look up and continued to forage
through his pack. Marybeth took the opportunity to retrieve her sword and then
pointed it at the man.

“How
do you know about me and my father?” she said.

“I
know many things. Some of which I am prepared to share with you. What you need
to know immediately is that I do not like to be questioned or threatened.”
Again, as the man spoke he did not look up at her.

Marybeth
placed the tip of her sword under his chin and gently raised the man’s head.

“And
I do not like strangers who appear and do not answer my questions. Tell me how
you knew my father,” she said. The man sighed.

“I
am not interested in a pissing contest with you,” he said. “But you are
starting to try my patience.”

Marybeth
flicked her blade against his chin drawing blood. The man touched the cut and
glanced down at his red-stained fingers. He shook his head as if frustrated
with a child too dumb to understand reasoning.

“Now,
tell me how you knew …” Before Marybeth could finish her question, the man
thrust out his hand. Marybeth felt all the air leave her lungs as she was
punched in the stomach by an unseen force. Her feet left the floor as she was
propelled backwards. She lost the grip on her sword and landed on her back in
the river.

She
floundered around as the water engulfed her before her feet found purchase on
the riverbed only a few feet beneath her. Embarrassed, she broke the water
surface spluttering. The man had not moved. Rage consumed her. She waded
through the water summoning her dropped sword as she did so. The blade flew
into her hand, the solid hilt feeling good. How dare he treat a member of the
Order like that? As she raised the sword above her head, the man motioned with
his hand again in a dismissive gesture.

Marybeth
was again struck in the stomach by an unseen force and found herself in the
river. She pulled herself to shallow water and lay there for a moment. Her
stomach ached but the cold mud felt refreshing in the heat.

Eventually
she got to her feet and moved towards the man.

“Sit,”
he said, inspecting his lunch as if nothing had changed. Marybeth obeyed
through gritted teeth, angry at the man’s arrogance. She held her stomach and
winced as she squatted. The man observed her discomfort and pulled a
sympathetic face.

“I
am not your enemy. Our goal is the same in that we both want the Gloom
destroyed. The difference between us is that I know how to do it,” he said.

“Who
are you?” Marybeth said. She removed her wet cloak and wrung out her shirt.

“I
am who I need to be.” He looked up as he spoke and instantly his face morphed
into that of an older man. His forehead wrinkled and his teeth yellowed.
Marybeth stumbled away from him in shock. Her eyes fixated as his face became
smooth again but this time taking on the appearance of a woman, with full lips
and long lashes. “I am ruthless to those who only respond to strength and kind
to my allies.” His face continued to change before finally he altered his
appearance to replicate her own looks.

Marybeth
gasped. She struggled to control her breathing. Never before had she
encountered magic such as this. She doubted even Iskandar could perform such
trickery. He smiled as his face altered back to its original appearance.

“My
intention is not to alarm you. I merely want you to take me seriously and hear
what I have to say,” he said and offered her an apple.

Behind
Marybeth the horse whinnied and stamped the ground as if to warn her from
taking it. She heard the river flowing behind her and thought of the fish,
wishing she could join them in their pointless lives.

The
sun was now at its zenith in the sky and the heat quickly dried her skin. Her
shirt had already begun to harden as it dried in places. Marybeth did not take
the apple but she made no move to leave either. “What do you know of stopping
the Gloom?” she said at last.

The
stranger shrugged and then took a bite from the apple as if to prove there was
nothing wrong with it. He took his time chewing as if he was deciding where to
begin.

“Have
you ever heard of the Chamber of Scrolls?” he said at last. Marybeth snorted
before she realised the man was serious.

“In
myths and bedtime stories only,” she said and was irritated when he raised his
eyebrows expecting her to continue. “It is supposedly a hidden room that the
founding members of the Order built to guard all of Frindoth’s secrets from the
Lakisdorians and the Gloom. It is a romantic fairy tale like the utopia that is
said to exist on the other side of the Calipion Range.”

“I
wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the rumour of the latter, but I can assure you
the Chamber of Scrolls is no myth.”

Marybeth
laughed and shook her head. “And why are you so sure of its existence?” she
said.

“Because
I know where it is located,” the stranger said, popping the last of the apple
in his mouth.

Marybeth
regarded the stranger for a while. She did not know what to make of him. She
had no doubt he was being serious, but the possibility that the Chamber
actually existed seemed ludicrous.

“You’ve
been there?” she whispered. She hated the tone of reverence in her voice.

The
stranger, however, chose to ignore her question and motioned for the young woman
to sit again. This time when he offered her some bread she took it. She was
surprised at the warmth of the loaf and how soft it was. If she didn’t know any
better she would have sworn the bread had just come fresh from a baker’s oven.
The moist loaf melted in her mouth.

Attracted
by the smell, her horse looked over longingly. The stranger did not even look
up as he cast the remains of his apple in the mare’s direction. It was greedily
gobbled up.

“Within
the Chamber there are hundreds of scrolls. Some contain cryptic messages that
do not mean very much at all. Others contain mysteries that are no longer
relevant in these times but there are scrolls that contain secrets men would
die for. If I tell you where the Chamber is, you must take only the one scroll
that pertains to the Gloom. Stealing any other scroll will result in your
death.”

Marybeth
was flabbergasted. How could he possibly know all of this? Why did the Order
not know of its existence? Unless … As if reading her thoughts, the man
tenderly placed a hand on her own. She flinched instinctively and then cursed
herself for doing so.

“If
you don’t already know, I am sure you will find out that Iskandar is not always
forthcoming about what he does or does not know.”