Ritual of the Stones (Ballad of Frindoth)

by Donovan, Rob

  Ritual of the Stones

  Book one in the Ballad of Frindoth

  By

  Rob Donovan

  Text copyright © 2013 Rob Donovan

  All Rights Reserved

  This one is for my wife Emma:

  Your love, support and patience has meant the world to me.

  For my boys Joseph and Jamie:

  You made me want to do something amazing so that I can continue to be the hero you see me as.

  For Mum and Dad:

  Your guidance and devotion have steered me true.

  Finally for Pickle:

  Your desire for “walkies” allowed me those precious quiet moments to plot the novel before you.

  Table of Contents

  Map of Frindoth

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Map of Frindoth

  Prologue

  Pernicious. The word popped into his head as the chill ran up his spine. The word used to be a favourite of his. One he used often when lecturing his students to illustrate the slow, harmful effects of a particularly devastating plague or the atrocities of war.

  He sat up in the darkness and searched the room. His heart thundered against his chest with an alacrity he did not know it still had. The room felt different. The air was now oppressive as if it had suddenly stood still and solidified. He breathed in short rapid bursts, but could not seem to get the air to his lungs quick enough. A cold sweat formed on his brow. The gradual sense of impending doom seeped into the room.

  Pernicious.

  The word was so apt as to how he felt but he had almost forgotten the word. Why should he remember it? He had no cause to use it in conversation in many years. To his students he used to appear unflappable; the calm, controlled master who was unfazed by adversity. As he sat trembling in his bed, he longed to be that man again.

  He had been expecting it to come tonight. Expecting a meeting and experiencing one were two very different things. He contemplated lighting the candle by his bedside but paused as he reached for the flint. Light would not help him here.

  From outside, the haunting howl of a wolf broke the silence of the night. It originated from deep within the forest. Other canine voices joined the song to form a melody of despair.

  As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he realised the room was not quite right. The shadows from his furniture did not fall in the direction they should have. Instead they bent in unnatural angles towards an unseen source in the corner of the room. Beside his bed the shadow cast from his precious bookcase loomed ominously across him, as if trying to pin him down.

  Reluctantly, he looked to the corner. Two orange narrow slits stared at him from the doorway; a strange putrid smell filled the air. His body was paralysed. The wolves’ howling became frantic and seemed to be getting closer.

  A pale grey outline slowly formed around the eyes. It was vaguely human in shape. The entity drifted across the room to him, slowly. Its frame seemed to be permeable as it passed over furniture.

  “We struck a deal … it is nearly time to collect my end of the bargain,” a raspy voice stated although there was no mouth visible.

  Somewhere inside him a voice screamed that he was being addressed and must reply.

  “I have not forgotten. I am a man of my word,” he replied, his voice shaking. He watched wide-eyed, as the smoky figure faded briefly.

  “Good,” rasped the voice. “By the time of the solstice, I will collect my payment. Do not disappoint me.”

  “I haven’t yet,” he said, feeling a little indignant. They had the same conversation twelve years ago. He remembered feeling terrified then, but time makes you forget just how afraid you were.

  The figure appeared again, now inches from his face, causing him to jump. The burn of those orange eyes forced him to turn away.

  “Just ensure everything is in place … You don’t want to know what will happen if you fail me.”

  Pernicious, the word rang in his ears alongside the howling cries of the pack now outside his home. He could hear the growls and yelps as some of the wolves snapped at each other.

  Suddenly, the burnt orange slits vanished, the wolves ceased their song and the shadows returned to their normal direction.

  He exhaled the breath he did not realise he had been holding in and fell back on his bed until his heartbeat returned to its regular rhythm. He got up to close the drapes. On the ground outside lay the severed bodies of four wolves.

  Pernicious. The creature had vanished. The word stayed with him for the rest of his life.

  Chapter 1

  Marybeth stood on top of a large boulder straining to see down the treacherous path, her right hand attempting to shield the rain from her face. Boulders lined the narrow ledge on one side with a sheer drop on the other. The rain beat down relentlessly on the mountain top. It was the kind of rain that only fell diagonally, the kind of rain that hurt.

  A flash of lightning illuminated the path and the landscape below. Clouds that were dark for a moment looked purple. Marybeth could make out the forest on Hondiaar, the trees stretching as far as the eye could see.

  Another crack of lightning struck a nearby tree stump causing it to splinter down the centre. A charcoaled stain remained, splattered across the wood, as if someone had dropped a vial of powder directly onto the stump from above. Marybeth winced, not due to the deafening roar of thunder that followed but because the lightning illuminated an imposing figure standing at the top of the pathway.

  His long brown hair was tangled across his face by the wind, covering the sharp features on his face. Jaegal walked forward, undeterred by the rain. He stood at over six and a half feet tall, and despite herself, Marybeth shivered at the sight of him, and then chastised herself for doing so. His enormous chest was as solid as the mountain they were standing on. His grey tunic bulged with oversized muscles. Stubble covered an angular, protruding chin below his thin lips. His long, sharp nose poked through his hair. However, it was his eyes that drew her attention, a deep purple, seemingly iridescent in the pale moonlight.

  It was the first time she had seen him since the Spirit Sagas and she’d forgotten how uncomfortable he made her.

  “Jaegal, good of you to come,” said Iskandar from behind her. He seemed indifferent to the dramatic entrance, as he prodded the fire with a stick.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “Far from it. Your interests in human life may be lacklustre but I know the ceremony of the stones fascinates you.”

  Jaegal shrugged. He strode past, barely acknowledging Marybeth with a nod before leaning against a nearby tree, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

  Stupid man, she concluded. Still, she shuddered before turning towards the fire. She sat down opposite Iskandar and waited for the final member of the Order.

  This was her second ceremony of the stones; the fir
st had taken place twelve years before as had the one before that and all of the ceremonies before that. Every twelve years since records began, the Order gathered at this remote spot to witness the ceremony. Twelve years ago, Marybeth had been new to the Order. She had not fully understood what the ceremony of the stones was all about. This time she would have a role to play. The Order would look to her to ensure the Ritual was completed.

  The trio were situated on a small grassy clearing about three-quarters of the way up the mountain. It marked the end of the difficult path they’d ascended to get here. The pine trees along the edge of the clearing protected them from some of the windblown rain and any strong gusts of wind that might have blown them over the side. Several boulders were scattered around. Some dwarfed even Jaegal, others were small enough to sit on.

  Iskandar erected a shelter in the middle of the clearing; behind him rose the steep incline to the top of the mountain. The elements had eroded the rock wall to a smooth surface that was impossible to climb. To Iskandar’s left stood a long rectangular table with eight chairs. Marybeth remembered the magnificence of the tables and chairs. The chairs were a solid block of marble at the base, but she loved their tall back with their intricately carved patterns. Despite their unforgiving surfaces, she found them as comfortable as a cushion.

  She got up and walked to the table of black marble, so clear that she could see her own reflection. At each corner a pole extended above the table with an orb at the top giving the impression of a four poster bed. The black marble surrounded a light green slab in the centre, where the most intricate map of Frindoth was depicted. Every river was marked in blue, with every city highlighted in white and named in elaborate red writing.

  When Marybeth saw the table twelve years ago, she was in awe of its beauty. She asked Iskandar if it was the Order who had it built. He had smiled and replied that it was created by beings far greater and wiser than the Order.

  Marybeth was stirred from her reminiscing by the arrival of Mondorlous. Whilst Jaegal was imposing in stature and demeanour, Mondorlous was positively gigantic. He stood at well over eight feet tall. His entrance was a complete contrast to Jaegal’s. In four strides he covered the distance from the top of the path to the marble table, delicately brushing aside foliage as if he were moving a child.

  Another strike of lightning and Marybeth stared at the size of his footprints left in the soft muddy grass as they began to fill with water. He took his place on one of the chairs. In response, as if the powers that be were waiting exactly for his arrival, the blue moon of Frindoth emerged from behind the clouds and shone directly onto the table.

  The ground around them glowed under the azure crescent and a faint hum resonated from the marble top. Suddenly, white light shot up the poles surrounding the table, illuminating the orbs at the top and casting the whole surface of the furniture in brilliant light.

  Without speaking, the rest of the Order assumed their places. Iskandar sat at the head, with Jaegal slouched to his left, irritably wiping the rain from his nose and Marybeth opposite him with Mondorlous next to her. The rain beat down relentlessly, making large splashes on the table. Marybeth smiled at the small puddles beginning to form in the areas where the seas and rivers were marked on the map.

  Iskandar cleared his throat, as if he was trying to get the attention of an unruly mob in a tavern and not the civilised members of the Order. Amused, they looked at him expectantly. He looked at each of them in turn, as if he was weighing them up and deciding at the last moment whether or not they were worthy of the Ritual. Once satisfied, he took a deep breath and then reached into his dark maroon cloak, again hesitating.

  Despite the constant downpour, Iskandar sat warm and dry, untouched by the falling water. Whereas the others all showed signs of the long sojourn they’d endured to get here, Marybeth observed Iskandar was immaculately groomed. His cloak looked brand new, his leather boots showed no sign of wear and tear and his white hair was cut short and tidy. Nodding to himself, Iskandar eventually pulled out a small cube, and placed it on the table.

  “The lime moon will soon be upon us and the fate of the stones will be decided. You all know what is at risk and you all know why we perform this Ritual. Does anyone have any objections to participating before the ceremony begins?” He spoke in a booming voice that contrasted with his usual soft tones.

  When no one answered, he positioned the cube in the middle of the map and placed his ageing hands palm down on the table. Several minutes passed where nothing happened except for the storm that raged around them. All four waited: Iskandar closed his eyes as if he was meditating; Jaegal remained slumped, flicking his hair out from his eyes every now and then; Mondorlous remained motionless. He could have been mistaken for a statue if he hadn’t blinked.

  Marybeth looked up at the clouds. Finally, they parted and the first glimpse of the green moon could be seen shining through. She licked her lips, realised she was more anxious than she thought she would be. This was the first time she was part of the Ritual. The first time she would have a direct impact on the lives of those that dwelled in Frindoth.

  As the green moon emerged from the clouds, its beam struck the cube. In response, as if not wanting to be outdone, the light from the blue moon channelled in on the object. The cube began to vibrate, almost imperceptibly at first, before shaking more vigorously. As it gained velocity, it rose slowly off the table surface.

  Marybeth could not help but gasp; even Jaegal ceased his slouching and now leaned forward. Still shaking, the cube began to rotate over and over, gaining momentum with each oscillation, mesmerising them with each turn. Smoke began to emerge from the cube as if the sheer speed of the rotations caused friction against the air.

  Fixated, Marybeth had not noticed the clouds part just enough to reveal the third and final moon on Frindoth. The red moon. Although the smallest of the three moons, its beam was brightest of them all, casting everything in a reddish hue.

  The rain fell more heavily; each drop bounced off the surface of the table. Forks of lightning flashed all around them.

  Marybeth started as a nearby tree was struck, breaking the trunk in half and causing the top half to ignite. She glanced at Iskandar, his eyes were open now, but he was unperturbed by the raging storm around him. Instead, his eyes glistened with excitement as he stared at the cube.

  She wanted to see how the others were reacting to the phenomenon, but the lure of the cube was too much and her eyes were dragged back to the centre of the table. The cube was just a blur now, hypnotising her. Wisps of smoke snaked their way into the night air. She yelped as a lightning bolt struck the cube, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut. She wrinkled her nose at the acrid smell of burning in the air.

  Her eyes remained closed for several moments, her breathing coming in short gasps as sweat poured down the side of her face. She could not say how long the whole episode lasted but she was aware the storm had ceased. When she turned to look at the others, she was relieved to see that they seemed as shaken and flustered as she felt.

  It was Mondorlous who spoke first. “It is done,” he said, staring down at the map on the table. “The Ritual begins.”

  “Try not to get too dramatic, will you there, longshanks?” Jaegal said, shaking his head.

  Suppressing a smile, Marybeth followed his gaze and looked upon the table. Where the lightning bolt had shattered the cube moments before, twelve stones now lay scattered across the map. Initially, they looked like they had landed randomly, but on closer inspection each of them had attached themselves to a city or town. One town even had three stones located within it. Each stone was a distinct colour.

  “We do not have much time,” Iskandar exclaimed. “We must decide who must travel where.” The others all looked at him for direction. Although he spoke as if they were to be included in the decision-making process, they all knew their wishes would go unheeded.

  “Mondorlous, you take the two to the west of Lilyon in Shangon and Luciana, Jaegal the three t
o the south in the Aselina, Easterly Rock and Rivervale regions; and Marybeth, you will travel to Gandara and deal with the three stones attached to the town of Longcombe. I will deal with the rest.”

  “There are two in Rivervale,” Jaegal said.

  “Leave the one in Lilyon to me,” Iskandar replied.

  Jaegal and Mondorlous immediately stood up and without so much as a glance at Marybeth or Iskandar set off back down the mountain. Mystified by their lack of reaction, Marybeth stood up to leave. The distribution of the Order did not make sense. Iskandar’s allocation was far too spread out. He would have a lot of ground to cover. She realised Iskandar was studying her.

  “Are you all right, Marybeth? Do you know what you have to do?”

  “Of course I know,” she snapped. “Do not mistake my hesitancy for weakness or lack of knowledge, Iskandar!” With that, she abruptly turned away from him and began to walk back down the path.

  “Marybeth!”

  His sharpness caused her to stop mid-stride. Defiantly, she only half-turned her head back to him. “All of the stones are located in reasonably populated areas, so educating the recipients in what is required of them should not be a problem. However, never before have three stones attached themselves to one town.” He let the significance of the statement hang in the air before adding, “Be careful, Marybeth.”

  Chapter 2

  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.