by Donovan, Rob
“Why don’t you go for the bloody neck, we can’t even reach it,” Ryio replied.
It was the last words he ever uttered as the Gloom knocked him to the ground and clamped his teeth on the Laughing Knight’s body. The Gloom swung his head back and forth almost playing with the body before crunching it in half and sending it hurtling in two different directions.
Suddenly a woman’s shrill scream filled the air. The blond woman flew off of the table and onto the Gloom’s back. She stabbed down furiously with her own sword. The Gloom bucked like a donkey in an effort to shake her off and although the woman lost control of her sword, she stubbornly stayed on its back by holding on to its horns.
Taking encouragement from the woman’s bravery, Cody laid into the creature with everything he had, hacking away at any part of the body he could get close to. The Gloom continued to try and shake the woman off, kicking its legs out behind him.
The blow connected with Longshaw’s chest causing him to fold over and collapse. King Jacquard immediately rushed to Longshaw’s fallen body and pulled the knight to safety before he was trampled.
Mansuri took advantage of the Gloom’s anger and darted in and out of the creatures’ legs, stabbing upwards and opening up deep wounds in its belly. The offense caused blood to fall copiously, so that soon both Mansuri and Cody were covered in the viscous substance.
Kristan unleashed a steady stream of arrows that pierced the Gloom’s body, each one finding its mark and infuriating the creature even more.
In a final effort to rid itself of the nuisance on its back, the Gloom reared onto its hind legs and let out a savage cry. More snow fell from the mountain top, the icy flakes a welcome relief on Cody’s face. The Gloom’s manoeuvre was a success. The woman fell with a startled cry. A look of panic was replaced by surprise as she landed on her back, the wind knocked out of her.
As the Gloom fell back down on all fours, Mondorlous took three quick strides and positioned his sword under the Gloom’s throat. The creature impaled itself on the blade up to the hilt as Mondorlous deftly rolled out of the way of the thrashing beast’s paw.
The Gloom released a high-pitched scream and fell to the ground trying to shake the blade from its neck. The creature tried to reach the sword with its front legs but was unable to get even close. Cody and Mansuri fell back to help the winded woman to safety and watched as the Gloom struggled to take its final breaths.
The Gloom struggled on for a few more minutes, whining in agony and trying to find a way to free itself. It circled a few times, its legs giving out every now and then. Eventually it slumped to the floor on its side, its legs twitching and its breathing becoming more and more laboured.
“Fools, you have no idea.”
The words sounded in Cody’s head again and sent chills down his spine even if he did not understand them. Finally the Gloom took a long intake of air before exhaling for the last time. The body relaxed and the head flopped to the ground.
* * *
Marybeth stared at the fallen beast. It was over. After centuries of enduring its evil, they had rid Frindoth of oppression. For a moment all she could do was stare at the creature as the magnitude of what they had achieved hit her.
In the final minutes of its life, the Gloom had almost seemed animal like. She had almost felt a pang of sympathy on hearin the whimpering noise the Gloom had made. The destruction it had caused, the sheer volume of lives it had taken and the immeasurable misery it had inflicted, forgotten for a brief moment.
The other survivors also stared at the Gloom’s corpse in a state of shock. They had defeated the Gloom! The destructive force that had caused Frindoth to live in fear for years was no more. The entity that was apparently impervious to pain and their small party had slaughtered it! It wasn’t easy, but it certainly had been achievable.
Before she could bask in the elation of victory, however, she noticed the fallen bodies of the slain knights. Her ears burned as anger swept over her. She thought of all the other lives wasted, the thousands of people that had suffered and for what? For nothing.
She turned to Iskandar as the rage engulfed her. Before she could do anything, though, it appeared the king had reached the same conclusion. He stomped up to the leader of the Order and swung at him. Iskandar did not make any effort to intercept the punch and surprisingly neither did Mondorlous. The blow rocked Iskandar back on his heels but he did not go down.
“You knew how to defeat that?” Jacquard screamed, pointing at the fallen carcass of the Gloom. As he spoke, spittle fell upon Iskandar’s face. The others looked on, a mixture of unease and conviction on their faces. “You knew and still you let all those people die. It took a dozen of us to defeat that thing. Less, actually, as you did nothing, I noticed.”
Jacquard struck him again, and then a third and fourth time, before Iskandar propelled the king backwards, unleashing an invisible volley of force from the palm of his hand.
The show of power surprised Marybeth. She had never seen Iskandar yield magic before. He moved with complete confidence. The king was knocked to the ground. Iskandar stood over him, his back to Marybeth.
The king looked shocked; the remaining knights drew their swords. Again Mondorlous made no move to intercede, his usual passive face looked pained as if for the first time he was unsure of his leader.
“How dare you,” Jacquard began.
“You do not understand,” Iskandar said.
Marybeth had heard enough. Years of bottled up anger came to the surface. She did not want to hear anymore of his lies. She did not want to hear any kind of explanation and watch as he wormed his way out of trouble. Whatever his reasons, he had killed her father and committed such an atrocity against Frindoth he deserved to be slain.
She retrieved her sword and in a few quick steps fell upon Iskandar, plunging the sword into his back. The blade penetrated his entire body and emerged through Iskandar’s chest. He looked down at the bloody tip protruding from his rib cage and frowned, as if he couldn’t figure out how it got there.
Marybeth did not take any chances and twisted the blade. The action evoked a short cry from him.
“We do not need to hear your pathetic explanations,” she said and then whispered so only he could hear her, “That was for my father.”
She withdrew the sword and watched as he fell to his knees before her. The others looked at her in shock. The king got to his feet and seemed unsure how to handle the latest developments. Only Mondorlous reacted, rushing to Iskandar’s side. The giant man closed his eyes and placed his palms on the wound, whispering softly.
“No, my friend,” Iskandar said as he tenderly lifted Mondorlous’s hands from the wound. “It is my time.”
Marybeth had heard the bards tell of stories where a wronged man sought to avenge the death of a family member. The bards sang of the moment the man exacted his revenge but instead of feeling relief and a sense of closure, they felt nothing at all. In the tales, death did not bring satisfaction. This was not the case with her.
She felt light-headed, elated even. For years, she had waited for this moment and the revenge felt every bit as sweet as she had imagined. She relished the pain etched all over Iskandar’s face. A weight that had been suffocating her for years had now lifted. She felt free of its burden at long last.
“What is that?” It was one of the knights that had spoken. The one the Gloom had donkey kicked to the ground. His face blanched as he looked at the table behind Marybeth. She whirled around and frowned at what she saw.
The three stones she and Janna had struggled to insert in the slots were now levitating above the table. They were shooting towards each other, missing and then arcing back. Each time the distance between them grew shorter and their speed increased. A high-pitched screeching sound filled the air.
“You must flee,” Iskandar said. His voice was considerably weaker now.
“What is happening?” Jacquard asked. Iskandar closed his eyes and swallowed. A look of resignation on his face,
as if he had done all he could but it still was not enough.
“As loathsome as the Gloom was, it was our protector,” he began, his voice straining.
Protector? What does he mean protector? How can something so harmful be our protector? she thought angrily. She was annoyed they were even entertaining Iskandar’s drivel. Still she refrained from interrupting him.
“There are many Glooms,” Iskandar continued. “All as fearsome as the next. They thrive on death and destruction. They devour the land around them, it gives them power.” A coughing fit interrupted his speech. They had all drawn closer to him, eager to hear what he had to say.
The knights still maintained guard on their king, keeping their attention firmly on the circling stones, but it was clear they too were listening to Iskandar.
“Centuries ago, the Glooms found their way to Frindoth. The Order, far greater in number back then, managed to intercept them as they came over the mountains, before they ventured closer than the spot where we now stand. The Order defeated them and closed the gateway to our realm.
“For a while all was well. However, they soon grew hungry. They sought out Frindoth again; somehow they found a way back. The first to emerge from the portal was a creature known as Seter al Gul. He was far from the strongest Gloom but he was the first through and by devouring the first humans he came across, he became stronger than the starving others. The Order ...” Iskandar cried out as pain lanced through his body. He arched his back as if another sword had pierced his flesh.
Marybeth looked at the stones; they fizzed against each other now, colliding in midair. The high-pitched screeching sound began to grate on her ears. Iskandar motioned for Mondorlous to help him sit up.
“The Order struck a deal with Seter al Gul,” Iskandar began again. Every word was spat out with great effort. “As long as the Order provided him with enough human flesh to sustain himself, he promised to prevent the other Glooms from entering Frindoth.”
“Hence the Ritual,” Jacquard muttered. Iskandar nodded his assent.
“There lies Seter al Gul,” Iskandar said.
Marybeth’s mind raced. All this talk of other realms and the Gloom protecting them made her head spin. Could it be true?
“I did not kill your father, Marybeth.” It took her a moment to realise Iskandar was addressing her directly. “I was foolish enough to confide in him. Unfortunately, he did not see the bigger picture and found the idea of the Ritual intolerable. He wanted to slay Seter al Gul and then banish the other Glooms from Frindoth forever. He could not see we were not powerful enough to do such a thing. The Order was no longer the force it was centuries ago.”
“I saw you two fighting. I saw you standing over his body.” Despite Iskandar’s revelation, she refused to even contemplate her anger might have been misplaced all of these years. Iskandar shook his head sadly.
“No, he confronted me whilst drunk. I protected myself and tried to calm him down. During the skirmish, he stumbled in his drunken state and fell on his own knife. I tried to save him but it was beyond my power.”
A tear rolled down her face. She wanted to refute the words, to find some way of finding an inconsistency in them, but she knew they were true. What have I done? As if reading her thoughts, Iskandar tried to comfort her.
“I forgive you, child. You must lead the Order now. I have taught you well ... Mondorlous?” The giant man answered his leader. “You must follow her. She may have been misguided but she has the attributes.”
Marybeth felt nothing but shame. Why had she been so blind? She had let her judgment be clouded by the perfect image she had of her father. She recalled all the anger she had been carrying around with her for so long, like some unborn demonic child.
The years of plotting against Iskandar, trying to earn his trust so she could get close enough to destroy him. She needn’t have endured any of it, if she had just stopped and asked Iskandar what had happened.
She risked looking up, sure she would see the look of disgust on the faces of the others. Instead they were all looking past her at the stones.
They had now grouped together to form one big purple ball of rotating energy. With no warning, the ball expanded, slowly spreading itself thin until it formed a circular disc shape as tall as Mondorlous.
The surface of the disc swirled and crackled, sparks flew off the edges. Marybeth strained to see what lay inside, but the purple light swirled, it was like looking at something whilst under murky water. From within, a hideous roar could be heard. This was followed by another, and then another, until there was a chorus of shrieks and wails. Sounds of dozens of hooves could be heard galloping towards them. Despite the thunderous clamour, the ground did not vibrate; the noise was clearly coming from another place.
Marybeth stood frozen, paralysed by fear.
“You must flee,” Iskandar said. She could barely hear him over the din.
The others did not need prompting. The mobile knights had already grabbed their fallen friends and were making their way down the mountainside, with the king leading the way.
Janna seemed to have not noticed any of the commotion around her. She sat against the table, her arms wrapped around her body, rocking back and forth. Mondorlous grabbed her and cast her over his shoulder as if she was an infant. Janna made no move to stop him. He tugged Marybeth’s arm.
“I suggest you obey Iskandar this time,” he said. Marybeth allowed herself to be led away, too frightened to register whether he was angry at her or was being his usual pragmatic self.
As they left the plateau, she looked over her shoulder at the dying leader of the Order. He smiled faintly at her and then closed his eyes. She descended the mountain in a trance, Iskandar’s screams of agony echoing in her ears.
Acknowledgements:
For a self-published novel I have an awful lot of people to thank. Firstly I wish to extend my heartfelt gratitude to Richard Barker. Richard came up with the concept of the original cover that enticed so many people into purchasing the novel. Richard your enthusiasm , generosity and devotion have been extraordinary. Whiskey is truly the new fuel of the Gods!
To GX at Graphiczxdesigns.zenfolio.com I thank you for really grasping my vision and capturing the overall tone of the novel. You have produced a fantastic design that can be used as part of a series.
Secondly, I wish to thank my proof-reader Diana Cox. Your professional eyes caught so many errors that had been missed by myself and countless others. Diana you were highly recommended and worth every penny.
Huge gratitude to my beta readers: Simon Tweedie, Jacqui Slaney, Paul Smith and David Siska. Your critiques (and in some cases written reports!) were brutally honest and made this novel stronger than it would have been. The fact that all your reports conflicted gave me a further headache that was not needed!
My thanks also to Anthony Ryan and Mark Charan Newton. Both of you have been in my position and are now successfully carving a definitive path for yourselves. It is a testament to both of your generosity that you still found the time to provide swift responses and sound advice to an aspiring author. Thanks also to Niall Alexander – the first “big name” to support my blog. I hope one day you will read this book.
I would like to show my appreciation of all the support and encouragement demonstrated by my friends and family. To list you all would double the size of this novel (okay, so I am prone to exaggeration, I am definitely not that popular) but special mention to my sister Denise, to “my second pair of eyes” Kay, Rachel, Hajrah and to Valerie and Stuart Merrill. Stuart your assistance with the formatting has been invaluable.
Finally my thanks to you dear reader for taking a chance on this book, I hoped you liked it.
About the Author
Rob Donovan was born in 1979 and lives in Kent. He obtained a degree in Ancient History before embarking in a career as a civil servant. He regularly maintains a blog where he shares the trials and tribulations of writing his first novels and reviews other books. Ritual of the Stones is t
he first book in the Ballad of Frindoth series. Rob is roughly half way through writing the second book.
To find out more visit his blog over at: Ritualofthestones.blogspot.co.uk