Ritual of the Stones (Ballad of Frindoth)

by Donovan, Rob

  From first light, merchants had moved their stalls from the slums and assembled them in the square in order to take advantage of the throng of visitors to Lilyon. Anything from roasted turkey legs to shade handles were being sold at inflated prices. The aroma of cooked food and sweat mixed together spread throughout the city.

  Three stone buildings surrounded the square. The only access came from the four paths leading in from the corners. The new stand was positioned on the south side in front of the city library. The library was the only building in Frindoth where people could come and read the poems and songs passed down by the famous bards.

  To the east stood the courthouse where people found guilty were hanged outside or worse (depending on your point of view) sent down to the Pit. The gallows haunted the north of the square. There was no building here, just a sheer drop of one hundred feet down to the bottom part of the city. The idea was that all could see what happened to those that committed crimes and would thus be deterred.

  On the opposite side was the Tri-moon temple, the most impressive building in Lilyon apart from the palace itself. It was a grand rectangular building with only one wall. The temple’s roof was held up by marble pillars, each intricately decorated by mosaic tiles forming various patterns of the stars. Inside were rows of stone benches all facing the only wall, on which a fabulous painting depicted the land of Frindoth and its moons.

  Scattered throughout, were grandiose statues representing various warlords of the past. The most spectacular feature of the temple, however, was the gold-plated pointed roof. There were even golden gargoyles peering menacingly over the edge of the roof.

  It was in this temple the people could worship the three moons of Frindoth. Not that many did. People found it hard to worship an inanimate object. There was a movement in recent years to assign figures to the moons. Several fanatics claimed they had discovered scrolls that proved the moons all represented ancient gods. They claimed: the blue moon represented Birumiar the wise; the green moon signified Kanos the brave; and the red moon belonged to Staogon the bloodthirsty god.

  The fanatics had grown in number in recent years and now referred to themselves as the Lunar children. They believed the gods would return to Frindoth and restore balance to the realm. The Gloom was part of this purge and they revered the creature. They roamed the land dressed in dark blue cloaks preaching to anyone that would listen. They fiercely opposed the idea of the Ritual, believing the Gloom should not be appeased but allowed to kill freely. Needless to say, they were strictly denied entrance to Lilyon today.

  Jacquard sat on a makeshift throne at the top of the steps that led up to the temple. Beside him sat Jefferson and to his right sat Althalos. Iskandar and Mondorlous (another individual that made the king uncomfortable) stood behind him. Jacquard hated the pomp and ceremony that was afforded him on such occasions. It was one of the worst things about being king.

  He thought the king should not have prime seats to witness a member of his realm being savagely killed. Jefferson, however, argued that because a member of his realm was sacrificing themselves, it was precisely why the king should be present. As usual, Jefferson was right.

  Even though the Ritual never started until the sun was at its highest, the crowd below was growing impatient and began to clap slowly. Jacquard was disgusted at the mob he saw below him.

  “It is supposed to be a Ritual, not a bloody festival,” he growled. He had been short tempered all morning, barking at anyone that interrupted his time alone with Althalos. His son had not taken his eyes off the gallows since they sat down. It was the first sign since finding out about the stone that he was nervous.

  Jacquard had been amazed how his son had calmly gone about his business as if it was just another day, wolfing down his breakfast and then going out to the practice yard as was his usual routine. In contrast, Jacquard had barely touched his food and yelled at the maid when she had asked if there was anything wrong with it.

  “It only happens once every twelve years, my lord. At the very least it is a spectacle,” Jefferson said.

  “Then they should watch it and not make an event of it then,” he retorted. “I thought I told you to get a pissing chair. You’re too old to be standing.”

  Jefferson bowed and signalled for a guard to bring him a chair, which for some reason irritated Jacquard further. The king knew he was being unreasonable, he hardly ever cursed, yet he had been doing it all morning. What did people expect? It was his son that might be sacrificed. They expect you to be their king.

  A heated discussion disturbed his thoughts. He turned to see Iskandar and Mondorlous conversing in harsh whispers.

  “What is it?” he demanded. Iskandar looked at Jacquard like a guilty child that had been caught stealing a pie.

  “We haven’t heard from Marybeth, my lord,” he said.

  “What do you mean you haven’t heard from her?” Jefferson said, jumping to his feet and sending the newly placed chair toppling. Jacquard had wondered where the fourth member of the Order was, but had thought nothing of it as his mind has been on Althalos. He pictured the young girl now, a pretty lady who had always appeared coy around him. She seemed pleasant enough, but there was something distrustful about her.

  “I mean, we haven’t heard from her,” said Iskandar. Now that he was addressing everyone he seemed perfectly in control again, as if it was only a minor problem.

  “If the twelve don’t show—” Jefferson began.

  “I know the ramifications!” Iskandar said, drawing himself up to full height.

  Jacquard was surprised at the shiver of fear that ran up his spine. A few of the crowd below turned to look at the commotion. Sensing that he was now the focus of unwanted attention, he lowered his voice.

  “We will proceed as planned,” Iskandar said.

  “But—”Jefferson protested.

  “We will proceed as planned, Jefferson,” the leader of the Order said firmly and strode off toward the gallows, Mondorlous following like an obedient dog.

  When they were out of earshot, Jefferson addressed his king.

  “Sire, I do not like this. If the twelve are not present, then there is no telling what the Gloom will do,” Jefferson said.

  “And what would you have me do about it at this late stage?” Jacquard said.“It is out of our hands now.”

  Jacquard stared at his friend who had a look of disbelief on his face. Jefferson finally broke eye contact and picked up his chair, grumbling to himself. Again, Jacquard chastised himself for being so harsh.

  What am I supposed to do, though? My entire reign and I have been powerless against this poxy Ritual. If my legacy is to be the king that did not conduct the Ritual properly, so be it. He called Longshaw over to him. The small knight came immediately and knelt before Jacquard, his long dark hair falling across his face.

  “We may have a problem with the Gloom. Make sure your men are ready for every eventuality,” he said. Longshaw’s head jerked up as a look of terror spread across his face. Finally he nodded and walked away. Jacquard glanced at Jefferson, who gave a satisfied nod at his command.

  * * *

  The deafening sounds of trumpets filled the air to signal the Ritual was about to start. Iskandar made his way through the crowd and climbed the steps to the gallows, Mondorlous at his side. In his hands he held a black bag made out of cloth. He signalled for the crowd to hush even though they were already silent, watching his every move. For many of the spectators, this was their first glimpse of the mysterious and powerful Order as well. The crowd had probably only heard of their deeds and were eager to witness a demonstration of the magic associated with them.

  Satisfied he held everyone’s attention, Iskandar addressed the crowd.

  “Citizens of Frindoth, the Gloom is an entity the likes of which we have never seen. Nothing else on Frindoth comes close to being similar to this destructive beast. If there is a way to harm it, then we or our ancestors have never discovered it.

  “For centuries
we have gathered at this same spot and offered a sacrifice to the Gloom in an effort to appease its thirst for blood. For as long as the scrolls record, this has been our way. By doing so, we have learnt to coexist somewhat peacefully with this devastating creature. Whilst a loss of a life should never be deemed acceptable, the alternative, I assure you, is far worse.”

  Iskandar paused. He surveyed the crowd before him as if daring any of them to oppose what he was saying. No one spoke, the screeches from a couple of crows perched on the stand’s roof and the clucking of a few hens held in cages on one of the market stalls stood out over the silent crowd. Satisfied, he continued.

  “Today, the time has come again to offer our sacrifice. As always, twelve people have been selected by the stones. In a few moments I will collect the stones from those people and toss them off of the palace tower into the Ritual waterfall. Whose ever stone lands first in the fountain will be sacrificed.

  “They will be doing Frindoth a huge service and their courage will long be remembered. May their end be swift and may they die with dignity.”

  A ripple of applause swarmed over the crowd. Jacquard clucked his tongue in disgust. He doubted if many of the people in the crowd could even remember the name of the girl that was sacrificed a dozen years ago. She was an only child called Amber. He had visited her parents once a year to express his gratitude at her bravery. He had maintained this practice for six years, until he had learnt that both parents had killed themselves. Six years it had taken them to realise they could not cope without their daughter.

  He noticed several people crossed their arms and placed their hands on the opposite shoulder in an effort to ward off the Gloom. Others pointed to the sky. He scoffed at the acts. He did not know where they originated, but he felt certain that should the Gloom choose to attack them, the hand motions would offer no protection.

  Whilst Iskandar spoke, Althalos took his father’s hand and squeezed it. His son was fixated on Iskandar, all the colour having drained out of the boy’s face. Jacquard was not even sure Althalos realised he had performed the intimate gesture and decided not to say anything.

  “I couldn’t have asked for a better father,” Althalos said.

  “Nor I, a better son,” Jacquard replied. “I am proud of you, as would your mother have been.”

  Tears filled his son’s eyes as he hastily turned his attention back to Iskandar. The leader of the Order now handed the bag to Mondorlous and motioned for him to stand at the top of the gallows’ steps.

  Jacquard saw that the tattooed Delmut, the unsavoury warden of the Pit, had now joined Iskandar on the gallows. His painted face caused some of the women in the crowd to turn away in repulsion. Delmut had a hideous grin on his face, as if he had been looking forward to this day for ages.

  “The time has come,” Iskandar shouted. “Would the stoneholders come forward and place their stones in the bag.”

  At first no one moved, everyone in the crowd turned and looked to the people around them, expecting them to make their way to the gallows. Finally, a woman cried out in despair.

  “No, no, not yet, baby, not yet, please don’t go. You can’t leave us just yet.”

  Jacquard strained to see who was talking, but it soon became obvious as the crowd parted forming a circle around the woman and her family. She was holding on to her son’s arm in an effort to stop him walking towards the gallows. A man who Jacquard assumed to be her husband was trying to prise open her grip from their son’s arm. The boy’s sister stood next to them sobbing.

  Finally, two guards waded through the crowd to help the father free his son, who seemed embarrassed by the scene and let himself be escorted up to the gallows. The woman’s screams made Jacquard’s stomach churn. Even though his own son was about to make the same short walk, he felt the pain of the other family.

  An elderly woman was the next to make her way to the gallows. She turned and hugged her husband before gracefully making her way through the mass. By that time the boy had reached the gallows and had placed his stone into the bag Mondorlous held out to him. Even from where the king sat, Jacquard could see it was orange. The boy gave his name to a young squire who made a note of it before he was roughly manhandled by Delmut to stand under the first noose. A box was placed in front of him and he was ordered to stand on it. As he did so, Delmut attached the noose round the boy’s neck and tied his hands behind his back, whispering something in his ear and cackling wickedly as he did so.

  Iskandar was on Delmut immediately, roughly grabbing him by his throat and chastising him. Delmut merely shrugged at the scolding, but treated the elderly woman with slightly less disdain.

  One by one, others made their way to the gallows. The next two were young men. One had a calm resolve about his demeanour as he walked purposefully towards the platform and the other created a stir by roughly elbowing people out of the way. Jacquard was appalled to see that he was covered in blood. When he got to the gallows, he put the stone in the bag and then spat in Mondorlous’s face, causing the crowd to gasp.

  Delmut looked over to Jefferson questionably, but Jefferson shrugged. What could be done to the man, that wasn’t about to be done? Still, the bloody-faced man completed his little show by defiantly marching to the opposite end of the gallows and placing the noose around his own neck. The other man also chose not to take the noose next to the first two, but instead followed the blood soaked man to the end, all the time keeping a watchful eye on the rebel.

  Jacquard was surprised to see Mikel, one of his own knights, escort a pretty young girl to the platform before emotionally kissing her good-bye. He rebuked himself for not knowing about his situation. Mikel was perhaps the most fiercest of his knights. A stoical man who Jacquard would have said was incapable of love. He turned to Longshaw, who looked equally surprised.

  The crowd talked excitedly, drowning out the wailing of the mother. Some were pointing at various members of the lineup, whilst others looked around to see who was next. Jacquard was appalled to see coin exchanging hands as people wagered on the outcome.

  Jacquard sensed Althalos begin to get up.

  “Not yet,” he said and his son shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I’m not ready for you to leave me just yet. He realised how hypocritical he was being, but he didn’t care. “Let a few more go up first.”

  Jacquard was shocked to see the next man climb the stairs. He recognised him as one of his former knights and trusted friends. Ulric von Coolidge limped across the platform in a dignified manner. Several onlookers recognised him and cried out in distress.

  Jacquard felt a pang of sadness as he watched Ulric allow himself to be tied up. He didn’t deserve such an end. He was a proud man who had been badly injured whilst fighting for the realm and did not take too kindly to Jacquard’s orders to stand down and retire. Jacquard felt the familiar regret at the incident. As king, he had been mistaken in how he had handled the whole affair, a fault he was determined not to repeat with Guynor. Ulric never glanced his way once and fixed his one good eye on the wooden box in front of him.

  The next to go up was perhaps the most upsetting. Jacquard was drawn to a commotion in the crowd immediately below him. An overweight man began leading an older black man through the crowd. The black man seemed oddly confused by this.

  “Master? What’s a happening? Jonas doesn’t want to go up there.”

  The overweight man shook his head in a defeated expression and tried to soothe the black man. He motioned for some guards to help him. All of the time, the man struggled and looked back beseechingly at his master and asked what he had done wrong. It was clear that the man was simple and didn’t comprehend what was happening to him.

  The scene caused several people to call out in sympathy, urging the simple man to be brave. By the time the noose was tied around the man’s neck, he was openly weeping and singing to himself. The man covered in blood on the end taunted him.

  “Burnt skin is going to be chosen for the sacrifice. That’s if he doesn’t shit him
self to death first. Mind you, will anyone even notice?” he said and then hooted with laughter. This prompted several onlookers to pelt him with whatever they had to hand, which caused him to laugh harder.

  “ENOUGH!” Iskandar’s voice rang out. The crowd immediately ceased and silence once again engulfed the square apart from the muffled sobs of some of the crowd and the wordless song, sung by the simple black man, “bring him out,” the leader of the Order said at last, talking to someone by the library.

  The crowd all turned to see who he could be talking about and were astounded to see Jaegal, his arms and legs bound, being carried towards the gallows. Jaegal struggled furiously, cursing Iskandar all the way.

  The sight of the enraged member of the Order forced Jacquard to recall the incident from a couple of days ago. When Jaegal had delivered the dead body to Iskandar, the leader of the Order had not hesitated in summoning the guards. At first Jacquard had not fully understood what was happening. It was only when Iskandar apologised to Jaegal, did he realise what Iskandar intended to do.

  According to a little known law of the Ritual, if a stoneholder was found dead before the day of the sacrifice, then whomever found the body assumed their place in the Ritual. It was not common knowledge and Iskandar admitted to Jacquard afterward he had never told the others in the Order of the law, in case a situation like this ever arose. He stated he would never have got members of the Order to escort stoneholders if they had known of the law.

  Jacquard doubted anyone would have volunteered for such a task. He was not impressed with how Iskandar had tricked his brethren, but recognised the reasoning behind it. If a complete stranger found the body, there was nothing to stop them from denying it, which would only lead to a long drawn out investigation.

  Jaegal had tried to flee, but Iskandar held out his hand in his direction and somehow froze Jaegal mid-stride. It was the first time Jacquard had witnessed Iskandar demonstrate his abilities and even he felt a cold chill at how emotionless Iskandar was in condemning his supposed friend.