Read Online Ritual of the Stones (Ballad of Frindoth) by Rob Donovan - Free Book Online
Authors: Rob Donovan
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went in about a quarter of its length
before there was a deafening thud as it was crushed beneath slabs of stone.
Marybeth jumped backwards, dropping the rest of the shattered weapon. She
shivered at the reverberating rumble that echoed around the Chamber. At least
her suspicions were correct.
Her
hands shook as she picked up the staff and moved on to the next hole. This one
showed a pointed-eared beast sitting upon a throne. Beneath it were smaller
beasts reaching their arms up to the beast in supplication. Marybeth shuddered
and moved on.
The
next hole showed a fortress. It had a tower in one corner that was higher than
the others by some distance. There were figures with pained expressions, on
their knees and holding their ears. Another porthole depicted an army dropping
their weapons and fleeing from ghastly figures that emerged from sand.
All
around the Chamber the drawings filled her with curiosity. She vowed to return
one day and learn all of the secrets. She wondered if any of the other Order
members knew of this Chamber. The face changer implied that Iskandar might.
Eventually she came across a hole which showed the map table.
Like
the table itself, the detail in the picture was exquisite. The stones were
scattered about the table in what appeared to be the locations they had fallen
only four days ago. “Surely not,”she whispered. But the more she
studied the picture the more she realised it was. There were three stones drawn
together in Brimsgrove.
“By
the Holy moons.” This is what she had come for. She peered inside, holding the
lantern up to the entrance. She could just make out the bottom corner of a
piece of yellow parchment. She placed the lantern down next to her and using
two hands slowly inserted the staff again into the hole.
She
screamed as the stone slab slammed down on the staff, causing splinters to fly
in her face. Cursing, she clawed at her face and hurled what was left of the
staff to the other side of the Chamber. It bounced off the wall and landed on
the floor.
“Well,
this is just brilliant,” she shouted as she paced backwards and forwards. She
stormed over to the table and read the inscription again.
“ Only
the worthy will the Custodians permit the right,
To borrow a scroll from the Marshes of Night.”
“Only
the worthy? Only the worthy?” she shouted. She must be worthy. The picture
showed the location of the stones as she had seen them a few nights ago. She
was the only one here that had witnessed the ceremony. It had to be her.
Always have faith in yourself. The
words popped into her head. They were the words her father used to say whenever
she was worried how others would view her. She spied the broken staff on the
other side of the Chamber. She had tested the porthole with her staff, unsure
what would happen. If she did not think she was worthy enough to try the
porthole with her own flesh, then why would it let her take the scroll? She
began pacing again.
There
was no other choice, she was going to have to insert her arm into the hole. She
doubted very much that she would be considered worthy, given her intentions to
bring down Iskandar. Yet she had to believe in herself. She stopped pacing and
thought of the mysterious man. He was helping her to find the scroll but the
question was could he be trusted? She had no idea who he was or what his
intentions were. She only knew he had not been wrong so far.
“Gloom
devour me if I’m wrong,” she said, stopping in front of the hole.
She
took a few deep breaths and raised her hand to the hole. Beads of sweat
trickled down her face as first her hand and then her arm entered the darkness.
She screwed up her face and uttered a silent prayer to the Moon Gods, expecting
to experience excruciating pain at any moment.
She
was surprised when her fingertips touched the parchment. It felt like sand, as
if it would fall apart if held for too long. Once she had enough of a grip, she
withdrew her arm, sobbing in disbelief that
before there was a deafening thud as it was crushed beneath slabs of stone.
Marybeth jumped backwards, dropping the rest of the shattered weapon. She
shivered at the reverberating rumble that echoed around the Chamber. At least
her suspicions were correct.
Her
hands shook as she picked up the staff and moved on to the next hole. This one
showed a pointed-eared beast sitting upon a throne. Beneath it were smaller
beasts reaching their arms up to the beast in supplication. Marybeth shuddered
and moved on.
The
next hole showed a fortress. It had a tower in one corner that was higher than
the others by some distance. There were figures with pained expressions, on
their knees and holding their ears. Another porthole depicted an army dropping
their weapons and fleeing from ghastly figures that emerged from sand.
All
around the Chamber the drawings filled her with curiosity. She vowed to return
one day and learn all of the secrets. She wondered if any of the other Order
members knew of this Chamber. The face changer implied that Iskandar might.
Eventually she came across a hole which showed the map table.
Like
the table itself, the detail in the picture was exquisite. The stones were
scattered about the table in what appeared to be the locations they had fallen
only four days ago. “Surely not,”she whispered. But the more she
studied the picture the more she realised it was. There were three stones drawn
together in Brimsgrove.
“By
the Holy moons.” This is what she had come for. She peered inside, holding the
lantern up to the entrance. She could just make out the bottom corner of a
piece of yellow parchment. She placed the lantern down next to her and using
two hands slowly inserted the staff again into the hole.
She
screamed as the stone slab slammed down on the staff, causing splinters to fly
in her face. Cursing, she clawed at her face and hurled what was left of the
staff to the other side of the Chamber. It bounced off the wall and landed on
the floor.
“Well,
this is just brilliant,” she shouted as she paced backwards and forwards. She
stormed over to the table and read the inscription again.
“ Only
the worthy will the Custodians permit the right,
To borrow a scroll from the Marshes of Night.”
“Only
the worthy? Only the worthy?” she shouted. She must be worthy. The picture
showed the location of the stones as she had seen them a few nights ago. She
was the only one here that had witnessed the ceremony. It had to be her.
Always have faith in yourself. The
words popped into her head. They were the words her father used to say whenever
she was worried how others would view her. She spied the broken staff on the
other side of the Chamber. She had tested the porthole with her staff, unsure
what would happen. If she did not think she was worthy enough to try the
porthole with her own flesh, then why would it let her take the scroll? She
began pacing again.
There
was no other choice, she was going to have to insert her arm into the hole. She
doubted very much that she would be considered worthy, given her intentions to
bring down Iskandar. Yet she had to believe in herself. She stopped pacing and
thought of the mysterious man. He was helping her to find the scroll but the
question was could he be trusted? She had no idea who he was or what his
intentions were. She only knew he had not been wrong so far.
“Gloom
devour me if I’m wrong,” she said, stopping in front of the hole.
She
took a few deep breaths and raised her hand to the hole. Beads of sweat
trickled down her face as first her hand and then her arm entered the darkness.
She screwed up her face and uttered a silent prayer to the Moon Gods, expecting
to experience excruciating pain at any moment.
She
was surprised when her fingertips touched the parchment. It felt like sand, as
if it would fall apart if held for too long. Once she had enough of a grip, she
withdrew her arm, sobbing in disbelief that
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