by Donovan, Rob
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Chapter 19
The effect of Rhact’s words on Marybeth surprised her. She followed the father from a distance over the next three days. Eventually, after roughly following her directions, he had stumbled upon his wife and daughter’s campsite by chance. His son had still not been found.
She watched fascinated at the effect the missing boy had on the family. When the family had met up, there seemed to be an unspoken relief Rhact had found them again. The wife hugged him for what seemed to Marybeth an impossible amount of time. That relief developed into a stoic resolve and a determination to find Jensen and reunite the family at all costs. She had been touched by the displays of solidarity amongst the three of them, a reassuring squeeze of the hand here or an arm around the shoulder there.
As the days went by, though, the united front began to slowly dissolve as Jensen’s absence looked more and more permanent. Conversation was limited and often met with an irritable response. Anger crept into their behaviour.
On the morning of the third day, Rhact snapped. They awoke to the sounds of thunder, followed by an intense shower. Marybeth watched as the three family members scrambled to clear up their possessions. Rhact tried to fold away the canvas they were using as a shelter. He cursed as each time he thought he had fastened the material in his storage bag the belt popped open and spewed the canvas back into the rain.
On the fourth attempt, the canvas fell into a muddy puddle. Rhact swore to the sky and then stamped on the canvas repeatedly. He took out his frustration on a lantern they were clearing away by, kicking it about the camp. He snatched a pan out of Janna’s hand and hurled it into the trees. His wife and Janna just watched him, stunned by his antics.
“Give me a fucking break!” he yelled to the sky. Marybeth felt a pang of sympathy for him. He had never asked to be put in this situation, yet found himself trying to hold his family together in an impossible situation.
She briefly toyed with the notion of helping him find his son, but then dismissed it. It was not her place to get involved. Her own mission was of more importance. She needed to take the stone from Janna and then escort her back to the Ritual table on the mountain. Whilst they were heading in the correct direction, she was happy to watch from a distance.
She watched now as Rhact slumped to the floor, his hands covering his eyes. Neither his wife nor Janna comforted him, but silently went about collecting the possessions and storing them away in the wagon. Marybeth felt a twinge of anger at their lack of sympathy for him. He needed their support as much as they needed his. For a moment she thought of comforting him herself. Why are you being so weak? she chastised herself.
She had never been with a man, never trusted one since her father died. Yet oddly she had told Rhact about her father’s death, something she had never mentioned to anyone else. She was not even sure why she had blurted it out. It had been foolish and careless of her.
For years she had kept her true feelings towards Iskandar hidden as she infiltrated the Order to learn more of its ways. She was cautious never to let anyone notice her hatred of the man. There were times this had been easy to conceal, as she found herself admiring Iskandar and inspired by his manner. It was these at times she had to remind herself what he did, so that her hatred of him could fester once again. His time will come.
Her thoughts returned once again to those last days when her father and she had been together. Her father had broken his promise to work on the house for only another month. In fact, several months slipped by. Months in which Marybeth grew more and more upset with him. Their evening meals were now weekly meals. When they happened they seemed to be a burden to her father. This angered her as their meals was their time together and their irregularity indicated how much they were growing apart.
One night Marybeth confronted him about breaking his promise. She expected him to be angry with her, but instead he just pushed his plate away and looked out the window. She noticed he wasn’t eating so much back then as well.
“I’m being a lousy father to you, aren’t I?” he said.
“You’ve been busy, that’s all,” she replied, but the tears that trickled down her face betrayed her true feelings.
“You’ve probably guessed that I am doing more than building a house.”
She had shrugged, although the truth was she thought exactly that but was too afraid to bring up the subject.
“I’ll be finished as soon as I can, I’m not promising when, but I can promise I am working very hard to be done. It is for the best, sweetie,” he had said and then he must have seen the disappointment in her eyes as he added, “I’ll tell you what, every time we have one of these dinners, my job and Iskandar are completely off limits, is that a deal?”
She was pleased at this as he seemed to mean it. The only thing was there was never another meal again.
A couple of days later, she had been woken in the night by her father’s screams. She went into his room and listened as he talked in his sleep. She wanted to wake him but was too intrigued by what he was saying.
“Stop him … must stop him … must find it … not our place …” he mumbled and then slipped into a calmer sleep.
In the morning, her father left for work before she woke up. She did not mention her father’s mumblings to him when he came home later that night as he seemed in a foul mood, barking orders at the innkeeper and slamming his bedroom door. The next night he spoke in his sleep again.
A few days later he came home later than he had ever done. Marybeth had already taken herself to bed, but the commotion her father caused downstairs woke her. He was shouting at the innkeeper to fetch him more wine. She crept downstairs and watched as he lost himself in the drink.
After guzzling a second flask, he stumbled to his feet and put on his coat. She was horrified at the thought of him going out into the night in his drunken state but did not know how she could stop him. Instead she followed him out into the cold.
The two things that really stuck in her memory of that night (apart from what was about to occur), was just how drunk he was and how much she wished she had put on a coat. Her father made his way to the stable, swaying from side to side. He seemed to take two steps forwards and then several shuffling steps sideways. He took several attempts trying to mount a horse before setting off at a slow canter.
She followed the best she could, but on foot she soon fell behind. It did not matter, though, because as soon as he descended into the valley she knew where he was headed. She jogged after him, but despite the exertion getting her blood flowing, she did not warm from the chill. The wind stung her face as she ran.
After an hour spent with a mixture of jogging and walking briskly, she saw the light emanating from the cave house. In the dark it was hard to see and had she not known where to look she would have surely missed it.
As she approached the concealed house, she heard her father’s raised voice. He did not seem to be slurring as much; the journey must have sobered him. She crept to a window in the rock face and dared to take a quick peek inside. Her father was pacing back and forth in front of a blazing fire. Two armchairs faced the fire and she could just make out the top of Iskandar’s head over the back of one of the chairs. The fire had a wooden mantelpiece, on top of which were an array of books of various shapes and sizes.
“You need to calm down,” Iskandar said.
“I don’t need to do anything. What you are doing is totally unacceptable,” her father replied.
“Unacceptable to you, maybe. I have taught you much, but do not lose sight of the fact that you are new to these ways.”
“That has nothing to do with it. Who are you to play Moon God with people’s lives?”
“I am not playing Moon God. I am simply doing what is best for Frindoth.”
A loud noise, the sound of something crashing to the floor, caused Marybeth to jump where she was huddled underneath the window. She shivered from the cold but also from fright. She had never heard her father this angry and the last person
she wanted him to be arguing with was Iskandar. She desperately wanted to glance in the window again, but was convinced Iskandar would sense her presence and see her. Her father’s footsteps stopped their pacing.
“You are deciding people’s fate for them and that is playing at being a Moon God,” her father said.
“Nonsense, I am merely choosing to not reveal an ancient lore to the world in order to protect it.”
“It is not for you to decide.”
“It is the right thing to do.”
“Says you.”
“Yes, says me.”
Silence followed as the two men appeared to have reached an impasse. What in the Tri-moons were they talking about? She had no idea her father had gotten involved in something as big as this. He was talking about the fate of Frindoth. What did Iskandar mean when he spoke of her father learning his ways? She suspected there was something different about him but couldn’t imagine what in the world that could be.
To her dismay, her teeth began to chatter. She immediately tried to squeeze her jaw shut with her hands, willing them to stop. The red moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting an eerie glow. She became very anxious in the red light. An old saying from Pewtory the bard popped into her head:
“When the sky alone is red, on land there will be bloodshed.”
There were many who believed the red moon by itself portended danger or something terrible was about to happen. She had always laughed at the silliness of such ideas, but tonight the old saying seemed very real.
“I’m sorry, Iskandar, you have taught me much, but the king needs to know about this.”
“You know I won’t let you do that.”
“I’m afraid, my friend, you don’t have much choice.”
Marybeth gasped at the distinct sound of a sword being unsheathed. It must have been Iskandar that held the blade as her father definitely didn’t have one on him when he left the inn.
“Don’t be a fool, Thom,” Iskandar said.
She wanted to rush to her father’s aid, but was paralysed with fear. All she could do was stare at the blood red moon. Its rays seemed to shine directly onto the cave house, penetrating the rocky walls. From inside came the sound of a struggle as the two men wrestled with the sword. A loud crash told her one of the chairs had fallen on its back, she squeezed her eyes shut, but the image of the circular moon was etched onto the back of them. She willed her father to be safe. What can I do? I am just a girl.
The commotion inside continued, glass shattered on the floor and crunched underfoot as if treading on snow. The talking was done, and the only sounds the two men made were the odd grunt as they tried to gain the upper hand.
At one point, the two men fell against the window. She risked a look and could see her father’s back pressed against the frame. She pressed against the wall trying to make herself invisible. I should be doing something to help him.
She watched their shadows wrestle on the ground in front of her. Iskandar was slightly taller than her father but they seemed equally matched in strength. The shadows disappeared from the window and she heard a crash from deeper within the room.
Finally, there was a flash of light, followed by an agonising groan, someone’s dying breath. She wanted to scream into the night, but managed to control the impulse. Don’t let it be him, please don’t let it be him, she thought. There came the sound of a man walking around the room and then a voice.
“I’m sorry, my friend, I should have been more careful and not allowed you to discover the truth.” It was Iskandar.
Marybeth ran into the night. “What was I supposed to do? I was only a girl.”
“Do you make a habit of talking to yourself when no one is around?” A voice she recognised made her jump. She turned to find Mondorlous had crept up beside her.
“Something on your mind?” he said. What passed for a smile twitched his lips.
“How did you find me?” she asked, she was annoyed she had allowed someone to sneak up on her.
“With difficulty, I must say, but I am a member of the Order, I would be upset if you doubted my methods.” She shrugged in response. He followed her gaze and spied Rhact and his family. “You, young lady, have a lot of explaining to do.”
Leaving Rhact’s family to clear up their mess, the two members of the Order crept away. Marybeth led him to a hollow in the woods where she had set up a crude shelter of her own. She had selected the hollow because it was naturally shielded by the trees and the dense moss made it an attractive place to rest. The rain, however, had made the moss smell a sweet, sickly odour that even Mondorlous wrinkled his nose at. He seemed amused as he surveyed the trinkets she had hung from the trees and the pot smoking like a cauldron.
“It works,” she said, answering his unasked question. She did not care if he thought she was referring to the witchcraft or the illusion to the witchcraft; she was fed up with justifying the ornaments to people.
The rain had eased slightly but was still thick enough for them to shelter under her canvas. She stared at the giant man standing before her, who stared back in return. She had known him for fourteen years but still knew very little about him. He kept to himself and only spoke if needed. In fact, their brief exchange so far was the closest she had seen him come to making small talk.
His gaze penetrated her, as if he was reading her deepest thoughts and assessing her as a person. She stood with her arms folded and chin raised defiantly. As far as she was aware, he could not read minds, and so she waited for him to speak. When he did she was caught off guard by his conversational tone.
“You do not appear concerned to see me,” he said.
“I’m not,” she replied a little too quickly. He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.
“Even though you know I am here to drag you back to Lilyon to face Iskandar?”
“I know why you are here; I also know you have no intention of dragging me back.”
“I don’t?” he said and seemed genuinely confused by her response.
She took a deep breath. She didn’t know for certain what Mondorlous would do. He was a powerful man and she was not sure if he was convinced by bravado. There comes a point where you are going to have to trust someone.
“No, you don’t,” she said. “We both know that if I don’t go willingly then we would be forced to engage in a battle. You believe you are more powerful but are not totally convinced. You are also curious about my actions and would rather hear my side of the story than blindly follow Iskandar’s orders.”
A bead of sweat trickled down her face which she silently cursed. She willed Mondorlous not to notice it and realise she was nervous. This was the first time she had gone against the Order. She admonished herself for folding her arms. If he made a move now, unfolding them would give him an instant advantage.
“You have matured an awful lot compared to that young girl I met over fourteen birthfeasts ago,” he said smiling. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile and it was beautiful. Two rows of perfectly formed teeth shone in the rain. The tension immediately ebbed from her body. “So what is all this about?” he said.
She told him everything that had transpired over the last couple of weeks. She hadn’t intended on being so open, but it felt good to finally offload the weight she had been carrying around with her. She did not mention the mysterious face changer because she was unsure of him herself. Any concerns she had about speaking openly to Mondorlous dissipated as she began to tell her tale. It was the right thing to do, she was sure of it.
Throughout the whole of her story, the giant did not say a word. He stared at her intently, neither judging nor accusing her. If he was surprised by the mention of the Chamber of Scrolls he did not show it. However, she mentioned nothing of her father and her hatred towards Iskandar, though. She did not trust him that much.
When she had finished, he was silent for a long time. The rain had stopped and the first rays of sun were breaking through the clouds. Not knowing what to do, she went ove
r to her horse and fed him some grain. The horse greedily ate from her hand.
She looked back at Mondorlous, he now sat cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed, not the reaction she was expecting from him. After a while he opened his eyes and smiled at her.
“Do you still have the scroll?” he asked. Does he not believe me? She felt a surge of anger towards him and angrily retrieved the scroll from her tunic and thrust it into his hands. He appeared not to notice the aggressive behaviour and looked upon the parchment in awe.
“Iskandar must be told about this,” he said after he had read it for the third time.
“He knows,” she said, and then seeing the surprise on his face added, “Why do you think I have gone about things the way I have? Iskandar has known the Gloom can be defeated for a number of cycles of the Ritual, yet he has chosen to ignore it and let people continue to be sacrificed.”
“Why would he do that?” Marybeth shrugged. “Then we must confront him,” Mondorlous said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
“You can if you like. I am going to stop the Gloom,” she said and started packing her belongings.
“How? The scroll says it can be defeated when the three Moon Gods are reunited.”
“It is a metaphor. The three Moon Gods mentioned are the stones that match their colour: red, blue and green. If you hadn’t noticed, the same three stoneholders that failed to attend the Ritual. It is clear what I must do; I must gather those stones and place them on the table.”
Mondorlous looked dumbfounded. She watched him process the information and reach the same conclusion as she had. A squirrel scurried across a branch above her head; it paused as if eavesdropping on their conversation.
“All that death in Lilyon,” he muttered.
“Is regrettable. If I could have brought this to the attention of the Order beforehand, I would have, but I was unsure whom I could trust. I had to pretend that I was going ahead with the Ritual as planned.”
“Why not wait until after the Ritual?”
