The Last Ritual

by S K Smith

  ‘What are the little balls of light?’ She asked him.

  ‘Balls of light?’ He frowned, deep in thought, ‘It’s pitch black in that room! Are you sure your eyes weren’t adjusting?’ Elle looked out to the last remnants of the Sun, her room was nearly lit solely by candles, she watched as tiny lights glittered on the windows - was it just a trick of the light? It must have been, she reasoned, no-one else had seen it. Elle shrugged, and shimmied up to her pillows, helping her, the King pressed the bed covers gently around her.

  ‘Goodnight sweetheart,’ Her Father pressed his lips against her forehead and made towards the door.

  ‘Father wait! The voice …’

  ‘The Elders spoke to you Brielle. Only you. Do not share with anyone what they told you unless they have permitted it. You may not understand what they have said, but in time you will. I have faith in you.’ His voice was soft but stern, he looked at her, understanding. She thought she saw a flicker of sadness in his face as he left the room, his eyes never leaving hers as he closed the door with a snap. In that moment Elle felt alone, she desperately wanted to help the girl she heard, but without her father, she had no idea what it meant. Had the Elders spoke to her? Did they need her help? What could she do – she was just a girl?

  4 – AYDA

  Ayda was hurt, she was sore and aching all over her body. She had been training in the Barracks with her fellow soldiers today, she enjoyed pushing herself to her limits. Calculating her enemy and out manoeuvring them was her speciality. Today she had been partnered with Syren, a ferocious young red-haired Elf, who had proven deadly with her twin blades. Ayda had been pleasantly challenged as Syren was as strong and as fast in combat as her. They had congratulated each other at the end of the duel when there was no clear winner. Detaching herself from the Arena following the bout, Ayda had instantly hurried through the darkening City back to the Castle of Stone. The City was beautiful. Every building, home and market wall was built from the same white stone as the Castle. Each stone had been brought from the towering Pearl Mountains that stood tall behind the Castle and was knitted together with vines and veins from plants that bloomed through the streets. Market holders had begun to pack away the remains of their wares, fabrics, food and tools were boxed away by their owners, whose faces betrayed their daily sales. Many Elves smiled and waved at her as she hastened through their streets. She felt safe, there was no enemy here, this was her home. There were small elves playing in the streets with friends, she could hear their families calling them in from the approaching night. She was keen to hear about the Ritual, interested in celebrating Elle’s excitement, she could already imagine her sister’s tiny face shining with pride. The drawbridge was down, Ayda hurried across and was allowed entry without question, even with her light armour and sword still about her waist from training. The Castle was splendid against its backdrop. The sun was setting behind the Pearl Mountains, marking a glowing outline around the Castle, glints of light were dotted along the walls, towers and turrets as torches were lit inside the expansive halls and corridors. As night approached, the Castle of Stone was alive with hundreds of elves gossiping and talking about today’s Ritual. Many were busying themselves with work along the corridors and assisting in the needs of guests. Most curtsied or bowed politely as she passed hastily. Spotting Amie heading towards a small, concealed wooden door, she guessed was the servant’s quarters, Ayda made towards her.

  ‘Is my sister in her rooms?’ Ayda asked breathlessly.

  ‘I believe so your Highness.’ Amie curtsied, smiling at her. Ayda thanked her and taking the marble and gold Grand stairway two steps at a time she vaulted up and up, racing to the top of the Ivy Tower where her sister’s bedchambers were.

  The Castle was richly decorated, abundantly dressed in historical and precious artefacts. Ornate pottery and glassware shined on plinths throughout corridors, and the great white walls were layered with portraits of Elves who had long passed, their haunted eyes stalking the living. Many of the artefacts in the Castle represented the Elders. Stone ornaments of four all-powerful figures were common site along the walls, usually gifted to her family. One wall proudly beheld an extravagant tapestry which seemed to tell the tale of the Elders triumph. Four white-cloaked Elves were rejoicing on the field of battle, their fallen enemies scattered around them. Whoever had created the artwork had never met the Elders for they had no clear faces, the tapestry was deceitful and boasting and Ayda despised it. It showed nothing of the folly of war, no blood and no destruction, just the great triumph it held. Ayda sprinted past the tapestry not wasting a moment’s glance at it, anticipation grew within her as she drew closer to her sister’s bedchambers. Not bothering to knock, passing the stationed Protectors, Ayda burst into her little sister’s chambers.

  ‘Elle! Tell me everything!’ She exclaimed proudly, prancing into the dimly lit room. Elle appeared from the balcony. The setting sun was casting a radiance across their lands, the City below them seemed golden, and the light sparkled from the Garden’s pools. Ayda had to pull herself away from the temptation of the view.

  ‘Ayda?’

  ‘I knew you’d be awake waiting for me,’ Ayda said proudly, placing herself on the edge of the luxurious bed. Her sister sidled over, reading Ayda’s expression and taking her in. Spotting a nasty green bruise on Ayda’s cheek, Elle wailed.

  ‘Who did that to you!?’ She wailed, jumping and gently touching Ayda’s face. Ayda shrugged her off patiently and gestured her into bed. Her face lighting up with pride.

  ‘How was it? Did they speak to you?’ Ayda asked excitedly. No-one ever discussed what happened in Ritual Chamber with someone who wasn’t summoned, but she knew her sister would tell her everything if she bullied her enough.

  ‘Father told me not to say.’ Elle mumbled.

  ‘Oh please! Elle come on – what happened?’ Ayda urged.

  ‘It was just a dark dome chamber, we had to close our eyes.’ Elle whispered, shrugging. Ayda regarded her sister solemnly. This was not the reaction she had expected; her younger sister had been excited about this day since her little hand had lit up with the summons and now she was suddenly too embarrassed to speak.

  ‘You aren’t disappointed that they didn’t speak, are you? You know it’s very rare and it was your first Ritual.’ Ayda reasoned slyly, patting her sister on the arm, ‘Anyway I doubt they’d speak to a little Elf, you’re not old enough!’

  ‘I am! They did!’ Elle exclaimed, a hand shot to her mouth as she realised what she’d said.

  ‘They spoke to you?!’ Ayda said loudly, shocked. It had always been easy to trick her little sister into speaking, but she hadn’t been expecting that. Elle was angry with herself, she pursed her lips together determined not to mention anything further.

  ‘What did they say?’ Ayda urged, still reeling that her little sister had been whispered to by the Elders. Elle shook her head furiously and crossed her arms. Elle was not going to speak to her. A dark shadow crossed Brielle’s face as her gaze wandered to the view from her room. Silence followed, Elle started slowly rocking backwards and forwards, her eyes fixed. Ayda could not take her eyes from her sister, she seemed vulnerable, worried and distant, not at all what she had expected. Sitting patiently, long minutes passed as she waited for her to speak.

  ‘I’m scared.’ Elle whispered finally, staring into the darkness, ‘I wanted to tell Father, but he told me I should keep it to myself.’ Ayda pulled her sister gently into her chest. She loved her sister immensely. Brielle had always been the kindest, softest, sweetest girl. Ayda knew that Elle would have turned desperately to the King, out of a child’s love for her father, but he had unknowingly forced the girl to keep a secret that would burden the child’s gentle nature.

  ‘Tell me as much as you want, I promise if I can help, I will.’ Ayda said kindly. Elle nodded, relieved that someone she loved had listened and heard her plea. But she refused to say any more. Ayda tucked her in, beneath the bed sheets and told her stories she hoped
would lighten her spirit, Elle had liked listening to the adventures her sister went on. There was always one adventure that Elle would beg to be told, yet Ayda had never told a soul. That story she would keep within her forever, she could not face speaking it. Somehow, tonight Ayda found her sister was not listening. Elle did not gasp or laugh at the proper moments, instead gazing transfixed, lost in her own thoughts. Finally, after an hour or so, exhausted, the little Princess drifted to sleep, Ayda sat in an armchair close by watching her sister sleep fitfully. She planned to confront her Father and explain the fear she had witnessed in her once carefree sister, something had happened to her in that Chamber, and she needed to find out what.

  Ayda awoke shortly before the sun, sitting up quickly in the armchair she had slept in. Rising, she moved towards the balcony. It was still dark outside. Ayda breathed in the fresh morning air. It was likely she would be riding most of the morning to arrive at the border for midday, and she was still sore from yesterday’s sparring. In the reflection of the glass, she could watch her sister sleeping soundly in her bed. Moving towards her she placed a kiss on her forehead and murmured a quick farewell anxious to leave her in peace. Leaving the room as quietly as she could, passing the Protectors at the door, Ayda followed the white marble, spiral stairway down.

  ‘Ayda, I guessed I would find you here.’ A gentle voice greeted her as she reached the base of the stairway.

  ‘Father,’ Ayda replied, inclining her head slightly, the King raised his arms to embrace his eldest daughter. He squeezed her tightly against him, as if it was their last embrace.

  ‘We will miss you, stay safe.’ He whispered into her hair.

  ‘I will only be away for a matter of weeks Father,’ Ayda frowned, releasing herself from his hold.

  ‘Ah, of course, but each day without your sharp wit pains us all!’ He winked at her.

  Ayda snorted. Her parents were always full of grace and decorum when surrounded by their peers. However, in private, she could not deny they were fully devoted to their daughters. When Ayda had informed them of her decision to join the Golden Army, they had been shocked, and had attempted to hide their disappointment that she would eventually renounce the Throne, but they had supported her. Their only request was for her to maintain her duties for a time, to protect her small sister from the pressures of the monarchy at such a fragile age. She had of course, consented. She knew in her heart, that when the time came, and Brielle had found her confidence, she would make a much stronger Queen.

  ‘Have you spoken with Elle?’ The King asked gently.

  ‘Yes, she is scared. I have not seen her this way before.’

  ‘She has every right to be scared,’ Her Father sighed.

  ‘What do you mean?’ The King placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye.

  ‘The Ritual was hard for her. She will need her sister to guide her and protect her.’ Ayda nodded instantly, confident that no matter what trials her sister faced, she would be there for her. However, she felt there was something that he was not telling her. His loving face had aged, she thought, there were lines and shadows under his eyes she had not noticed before. Concerned for her Father, she opened her mouth to speak.

  ‘Father –’ Ayda began,

  ‘You had better get going! You don’t want the Patrol to leave without you!’ He chuckled, punching her playfully on the arm. He was right, she was cutting it fine. She launched herself through the corridor without a backward glance at him. He was King she thought, he must have many demands and worries to make him appear thin. Relaxing, she flew out of the Castle and through the grounds, ready for her next Patrol.

  5 – NIALL

  The men and women in front of Niall were loyal. Scoundrels, yes, but they were his scoundrels. They had done many jobs together over the years, raided many manors, hunted troublesome men, and frequented more taverns and pubs than they could remember. Here they were, ready for more. Their dirty, scarred faces could tell many stories, their leather protective clothing had seen better days. Niall looked around at them all smiling. Taking a long swig of cider from his flagon, he wiped his mouth on his arm and opened his arms.

  ‘My Fiends!’ He said loudly, grinning from ear to ear, ‘Tomorrow we undertake another brave and chivalrous task! Tomorrow, we will be bringing home riches to our wives and ladies!’ The men and women roared, banging their flasks loudly on the tables around him in celebration. Niall laughed loudly. Standing from his chair he finished his flagon and slammed it down on the table. A beautiful, curvy barmaid was leaning against the bar, watching, a smile playing on her bright red lips. The Bridge Inn was their favourite meeting place, it was a private, quiet inn on the outskirts of Oakwood Town. Niall liked it because it served his favourite Green Grain Cider, but also because Martha, the barmaid, was easy on the eye and easy elsewhere. It was widely known as The Hole, most people stayed away, but the Fiends made sure the pub lost no revenue for it. Niall gestured to the musician for the music to start, and a jovial violin sang its way through the Bridge Inn. Taking a seat between two men he clapped them both hard on the back.

  ‘Good turnout for this one!’ Niall said loudly over the music.

  ‘Word is travelling about your leadership for sure,’ His friend mused, ‘Everyone left the last raid with very heavy pockets!’

  ‘Bryce has trust in you.’ Karl added sternly. Niall frowned at his friend.

  ‘Bryce knows I care about Oakwood. I bring gold and resources. He benefits greatly.’ Niall dismissed with a wave of the hand. They both nodded.

  ‘He is getting old, maybe he intends to put you forward as his successor.’ Niall ran his hands through his thick dark hair, he had grown into a good looking, rugged young man and was committed to the success of the people in his town. He had joined the Fiends ten years prior, after he helped a mysterious girl escape the town unnoticed by the guards. This feat had earned him the respect of Bryce, the Master of the Fiends, who tutored him carefully to become his Deputy. Bryce had approved of the young boy’s morality and believed that the Master of the Fiends should be wise enough to make smart decisions with the heart as well as the mind. The Fiends, after all, was an underground organisation to benefit the people who most needed their help. Karl and Theo were recruited with Niall as boys, they had trained in weaponry, surveillance and combat together and had become as brothers over the past decade. Theo had been a kind-hearted boy who had been chosen for taking a beating for his younger brother, loyalty the Fiends could not overlook in one so young. Karl was cunning and strong, he was an orphan who outwitted the Town Guards on many occasions, once succeeding in locking the Guards out of their own Barracks so he could feast on their stores. Now, all three were lethal. As a three, none in the Fiends could challenge their skill with a blade. Their ability to foresee each other and move together rendered every enemy powerless, as they rapidly struck blow after blow, never killing unless necessary. As was the strict code of the Fiends. Tomorrow, the Fiends were heading out to the border of Myrliar. The Elven Border patrols were being recalled early, scouts had informed them, leaving the Fiends with a clear evening to plunder the closest Elven Lords without too much of a fight.

  ‘I cannot believe the Gold Army recalled their Patrol from the borders so early without reason.’ Karl said simply.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Niall asked his friend.

  ‘We have looted these Lords before, how could they be so foolish to leave them unprotected?’

  ‘You smell a trap?’

  ‘Yes. No Commander recalls border patrols without first sending relief.’ Niall nodded. This thought had occurred to him too. He had informed his scouts of his worry, they were to report straight back to him if they caught wind of any form of soldier movement at any point. The Patrol had not yet headed home, they were due to depart in the morning, according to their source the new Patrol would be arriving late that same evening.

  ‘I have prepared for that my friend.’ Niall rested his arm on Karl’s b
road shoulder. Karl was a mountain of a man. He had little to no sense of humour and simply said things how they were. Niall enjoyed the honesty, it was a relief to have a friend not afraid to tell you if you were in the wrong. Karl grunted and downed his drink, raising the tankard to a maid for a refill.

  ‘If you are wrong, we do not have enough swords here to fight a Patrol.’ Karl said, staring at Niall firmly.

  ‘Niall has not led us astray before, Karl.’ Theo soothed.

  ‘Astray is probably the wrong word.’ Niall winked at them. Theo was the smallest of the three, his dirty blonde hair was tied back, and his frame was slight, making him light-footed and fast. His face was young and lacked the knowledge and edge of the others, but it was friendly and approachable. Karl did not respond. He had bowed to the inevitable that they were going, and he was to once again put his trust in his friends. He continued to glare at the wall, drinking.

  ‘Such a merry soul.’ Niall jibed, elbowing him in the ribs. A slither of a smirk turned the corner of Karl’s mouth. Niall leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms above his head, kicking his feet up on to the table, sighing contentedly he looked over at Martha. One of his men was leaning over the bar to converse with her intensely, judging the look in his eye he was enthralled by her. Niall chuckled, Martha was stunning, and better, she was confident, she could easily disarm any man. Except Karl, Niall thought, he doubted there was a woman for Karl, if there was she would be damn scary. Martha caught his eye and sauntered over to their table where she sat herself comfortably on his lap.

  ‘I see you caught yourself another fish,’ Niall said mockingly.

  ‘I can’t help it you know, you Fiends love a damsel in distress, and I can never seem to convince you that I’m not her.’ She fluttered her eyelashes. Martha held herself in such a way that made her irresistible to him. He loved her confidence, when he was away he knew she could look after herself, she was never a victim. The things he saw her do with that silver dagger she kept hidden in her bodice, would be enough to deter him from getting on the wrong side of her, never mind a drunken brawler.