The 13th Descent: Book One of The Rosefire Trilogy (16 page)

Once we reach higher ground with a clear view, Mum stops us so I can take it all in.
So many centuries have passed, but I am not surprised to see that there isn’t much difference between the panorama of my earliest memories and the scenery I see before me now: contrasting yet harmonious patterns of rolling green hills and angled vegetable gardens, vineyards and neighbouring orchards filled with the grapes and fruits my palate knows all too well and longs for again, lush paddocks housing livestock of all shapes and sizes, manicured hedges bordering rose gardens and flower beds dotted with colour, the grand amphitheatre, the ancient temples and their majestic sculptures, and the age-old market place is still the pulse of the town. Some new and modernized homes and buildings have gone up and the fashions the people are wearing have changed, but to me, the Apple Isle is, as it always has been: simplicity in a constant state of renaissance.

And,
at the heart of this perpetual, ever-changing land is Kuldey Castle, where I am relieved to hear Mum has been staying. Throughout the centuries, Kuldey Castle has been our family’s stronghold, and as three of its first residents walk around its high stone wall and past the huge iron front gates capable of turning it into a fortress, I think back to when Mike and his men built its beginnings, back in those dark days when we first arrived on these shores as Micah and Shoshanna.

Micah
, and the skilful native men and women who volunteered to help him, originally designed and constructed a simple residence large enough to accommodate five families which consisted of a large communal bedroom for each family group, a central eating and food preparation area, a bathroom, advanced for its time, connected to the main house by a corridor, and around back, stables for the livestock. Over the generations, this modest structure has been added to and the town has gone up around it. To my knowledge, it is still the grandest building of living history on the Earth today where over two thousand years of truth has been forced to live in secret.

“
Prince Dural and his knights built the beginnings of the Castle on the land the People of the Light gifted to the Rose and her kin. Over time, the North, East, South and West wings were built by the Prince’s descendants, and throughout the generations, the Castle was further extended by those who came after them,” I think of Nanna saying in her story telling voice.

I
remember when we all lived in those small square rooms constructed of wattle and daub complete with dirt floors and fire torches mounted into holes in the wall, that, over time, branched out into wood-boarded chambers warmed by central hearths and our ancestors stories, then through intricately moulded archways of plaster enclosed halls draped from their cathedral ceilings to their mosaic tiled floors with hand woven tapestries depicting momentous scenes from times past, and then onto the miracle of electricity and the soft warmth of carpeted floors, wood panelling, opaque glass and the gold-leaf framed portraits of family who came before and after us, all who have, at least once, lived in and added to this historic cluster of rooms.

Nanna’s voice grows
even more animated. “This great Castle was testament to the Prince’s growing family, their knowledge, and their strength, but this was not the reason why the Luminaries from the Four Corners of the Earth decided to hide their most sacred treasures on the Apple Isle-”

“I’m staying in one of the guest houses,” Mum announces, snapping
my favourite of Nanna’s bedtime stories shut as she gives the Castle the wide berth and leads us around back towards the little village of guest houses.

“Why aren’t you staying in the
Castle?” I ask, unhappily surprised.

“I couldn’t bear to
stay there without you, Mum or Romey with me,” she solemnly replies.

Her words remind me of
how in every lifetime, except for this one, at least two of the Three Roses have arrived on the Isle together. This time, Nanna is gone and the rest of us are turning up here separately, and I can see that Mum is also scared of what that might mean.

She opens the
front door of the newly built guest house she has called home for the past ten months, gestures for me and Benni Dhoo to enter and follows us in to the darkened room. She flicks on the lights and both of us stumble backwards when out of the shadows charges the man I fear most: my ancient husband and my biggest celebrity crush.

More
shocked than scared, Mum and I opt for flight, but it is clear that even before the lights went on, Benni Dhoo had chosen to fight. Already launching through the air towards a fast advancing Josh, Benni Dhoo pushes him from his purposeful stride straight onto the flat his back, pinning him down on the carpet with his huge front paws and a hundred or so kilos of his brawny wolf-like frame. Staring Josh down, he shows him the razor sharp teeth that have torn apart more live flesh than I care to remember, and for added effect, he gets a good spit going, foaming at the mouth and letting the drool fall where it may.

“He doesn’t recognise him,” Mum gasps.

“Huh?” I ask, my eyes spinning in my head.

“I didn’t expect
for Josh to recognise Nathan, but I was sure Nathan would recognise his first born son,” Mum whispers. “Maybe too much time has gone by,” she sullenly adds.

Stunned
by Benni Dhoo’s electrifying gaze, Josh’s eyes cloud over as the storm passes through, clearing and changing from stone to silver as the truth surfaces from the depths and all that was then takes shape in the here and now. Witnessing their fear disintegrate as the bond reforges and fire in their eyes grows brighter brings memories of this father and his son rushing back.

When Joshua was condemned to death, his father,
Nathan, asked for his peers, the Luminaries of the North, East and West, to agree to releasing him from his position as the Luminary of the South, so he could become the Protector of the Blessed Tree, not only so he could watch over his family, but also so he could, one day, see his son reunited with his other half, “…to see the salt and light come together as one,” I hear Nathan’s original vow echo throughout the ages.

I remember that after a thorough deliberation, his fellow Luminaries all finally agreed to support Nathan’s transformation, and at sunrise on the day his beloved firstborn son was to be tortured to death, Nathan was brought to his knees as his as his golden wings folded in on themselves, encasing his earthly heart and binding him to his promise and his new purpose. His two legs became four and black fur shrouded his new animal body, and he grew teeth, claws and the strength capable of bringing down a small army.

In his new form
, Nathan left the South lands and the Tor clans he once governed and sought to join a clan from the North Lands whose hillside base was close to his family’s new home. When he pledged his service to Arthos, the Luminary of the North, his only requests were that he’d be based close to his family, and that his new clan name be after his son’s unborn child. So, when the time came, he was named Benni, after his first grandchild, Benjamin, and the second name he chose was Dhoo, which from the North lands that means ‘black’ like his obsidian coat, and from the South lands means ‘tree,’ to honour both his adopted clan, and the generations of his descendants he sacrificed the only earthly life he knew to protect.

These recollections bring me to a very sudden and terrifying realisation:
Benni Dhoo is aging because his first born son has returned… so does that mean that now he has seen him again, is his long life going to come to an abrupt end here and now?

“No!” I scream
as I rush at the two of them.

  Benni Dhoo turns towards me and
snarls, stopping me dead in my tracks. Once he sees that I am frozen in place, he turns back to his son, who is also frozen in place, and continues staring into his ashen, saliva-covered face.

“Josh. Ren. It’s
OK. Just give Benni Dhoo some time to figure this all out,” Mum loudly whispers.

Barely breathing
with our stares glued on Benni Dhoo, we all stay where we are. His eyes are alight like burning coals, but his face is impassive, and his weight is still bearing down on Josh who amazingly hasn’t made a sound.

More silent moments pass, until Josh
gasps, “Father?”

Benni Dhoo s
hows his teeth again, but this time in a big smile, and he starts happily licking Josh all over the face.

I close my eyes and cover my mouth in disbelief. Benni Dhoo did recognise Joshua, but he wanted his son to look into his eyes
and acknowledge him before another thing was said or done. I marvel at how it is the same way Mike gets me to acknowledge him, lifetime after lifetime. Again, I am shown that the eyes really are the windows to the soul.

Benni Dhoo
lets Josh up, and the instant he is free, he throws his arms around his father’s broad, furry neck. The intense emotion of the moment commands for Mum and I to avert our gaze. She jerks her head signalling that we should go into the next room to give them some privacy. Agreeing with her, I nod, but on second thought, I put up my hand, asking for her to give me a minute.

I creep over towards them, cringe at my impositio
n and softly say, “Benni Dhoo?” Father and son pull away from each other which is the last thing I wanted to happen, but before leaving them alone, I have to make sure, not only for Josh’s benefit, but for mine and Mum’s too. “Oh…um, I’m really sorry, but, um, are you OK, Benni Dhoo? You’re not going to…um…well, you know…” I babble like an idiot, accentuating my unspoken concern by rolling my eyes back in my head and allowing my tongue to loosely fall out of the side of my mouth, all while making gargling sounds like I am choking on my own spit.

Benn
i Dhoo snickers, smiles, and shakes his head no, and taps on the coffee table beside him, “I’m not going anywhere yet, daughter.”

Daughter. Well, I guess in a way I am. Besides ma
rrying his son two thousand odd years ago, he has loved and protected me like the most devoted of fathers. Momentarily forgetting my embarrassing display, my chest heaves with pride and relief.

“I’ll leave the two of you alone,” I meekly say and turn to leave the room. But, as I do, out of the corner of my eye, I see Josh’s bewildered, bright red face peek out from behind his father’s massive frame.

“Nice to see you again, Rose,” he says in
his familiar voice.

I instantly warm inside and
I can feel the blush spreading from my cheeks down to my neck. I want to turn and face him, but here, in the flesh, this young man I have known intimately is too striking, and in my weakness, I don’t want to show him what I am starting to remember. “You, too,” I say as I scurry out of the room, so we can all have the alone time we desperately need.

xxXxx

Mother and daughter reunite at the kitchen table while father and son continue to reforge their bond in the next room. The whole thing is surreal. Bittersweet. Exciting. Uncanny. Completely off the chain. But, considering everything that has brought us to this point, still wary of the creepy ominousness that clings to my recollections will stay the course and possibly snowball, experiencing these uppity feelings all at once is more than OK with me.

With Mum’s
barrage of questions, I have hardly stopped to take a breath, but on the odd occasion when I do, I stop and listen for more than just the hum of the air conditioner coming from the front sitting room where we left Josh and Benni Dhoo alone together.

I
haven’t expected to hear Benni Dhoo’s taps; Josh has never seen his father in this form and he wouldn’t understand him anyway. Josh could ask him questions and Benni Dhoo could answer yes, no, or gesture, but the last words I heard Josh speak were to me as I left the room.

Mum notices me still, straining to hear something, anything. She
knowingly smiles and says, “Didn’t you hear them leave?”

“Ah, no. I didn’t,” I sheepishly answer.

“With all they’ve got to talk about, I’m sure they’ve gone to find someone to translate for Josh,” she says.

Besides my family and the Tor People, I can’t think of anyone else who
would understand Benni Dhoo’s tap dancing lingo. “Who?” I ask.

“Benni Dhoo’s Tor Clan lives close by. I’d say he’s taken Josh to see them.”

“But, the Tor People can’t enter the human world until Midsummer’s Day,” I point out.

“That’s true. But those
with a human parent and a Tor parent can visit both realms anytime they please,” she explains.

“That’s right, they can,” I gasp, remembering.

“I know of Eloise and her son, Jordi, who live in a lovely little place on the outskirts of the forest. Maybe they’ve gone to see them?” she proposes.

“Mayb
e,” I thoughtfully answer, remembering that Jordi’s mother is human and his father is a Woodwose.

Mum pats her knee, gesturing where she wants me to lay my head. Happily, I do, and as I stare up at the white, freshly painted ceiling, she
combs my hair with her fingers like she did when I was little and tired. “OK, Mum. Your turn,” I press. She sighs. “C’mon. You’ve heard all about me, and school, and my friends, and Georgie Pa, and all of the town gossip. And, you promised.” I remind her for the third time.

“Alright. Alright. What do you want to know?”
she groans. She has never much liked talking about herself.

“How badly were you hurt?” I ask, scrunching up my eyes, bracing myself for the answer.

Her fingers move to my brow and while trying to smooth out the creases, she says, “Thanks to your father, not badly at all. A bruised hip. A fractured wrist. A few second-degree burns on my left arm and torso. Besides some scarring I’m told will fade over time, I’ve healed up pretty well. Even though, at times, my heart still hurts like hell.”

“Me too. Sometimes, I miss her so bad, and I get so angry...”

“I know, baby. Nanna didn’t deserve to die the way she did,” she says, her voice cracking. “God knows, I miss her, too.”

She pauses so
we can both collect ourselves before she carefully questions me, “You do understand that it wasn’t your father who planted that bomb, don’t you?”

“No. I don’t understand at all,” I snap, sitting up. “He was the only
Bloodstone
in town pretending to be someone he’s not. The ‘accident,’ as you call it, happened at his home and place of business, and he cleared out straight after it happened!” I yell.

“You’re right
, Ren. Your father is not a priest. Or a Bloodstone either, for that matter.”

S
he stops to see how I took that revelation, and I answer her by huffing and crossing my arms in a way that screams, BULLSHIT!

Unshaken by my opposition, she goes on to state,
“He was pretending to be both of those things, to protect you, to protect us, because he heard that the Bloodstones were close to finding us.” She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and adds, “As it turns out, they were closer than we all thought.” Her voice quavering, she takes a sip of water and continues, “We left town straight after the blast to keep you safe, and to bring me here: to the one place he knew I’d be safe. And, as for his real home and his place of business, as you put it, that will be proven to you and everyone else when Tor People arrive,” she says, unsuccessfully trying not to sound defensive.

Even though I have been trying to shut him out of my thoughts,
I had a hunch that I would see my father at the Clearing, but the rest of what Mum just said about him, I don’t buy. I dismissively shrug and say, “Aunt Romey’s not convinced either, you know.”

“Soon, she will be
too. Look, sweetheart, I’m not suggesting that all of your suspicions about you father aren’t warranted, but I do know that you shouldn’t base them on that car bomb, or Nanna’s passing,” she says.

“
Murder
. Nanna’s
murder
,” I correct her.

She goes to speak, but sadly nods her acknowledgement instead. If I didn’t say
that word in anger, I’d find it hard to get my mouth around it too.

Eager to talk about someone, anyone, else, I decide
ask her about another intimidating male I’m far from fully understanding. “Why was Josh here... all edgy-like?” I put forward, gesturing to the front room.

“He was told
that you would be arriving first thing this morning, without Mike, and he didn’t like that at all. You didn’t end up getting here until noon, and he was worried,” she says. “Josh is starting to remember bits and pieces, and let’s just say...he has been looking forward to seeing you,” she adds with a small smile. 

“
Really? Huh.” I grunt. Mum looks at me quizzically. “It’s just that Mike said Josh couldn’t remember anything about me. I wonder what set him off,” I say thoughtfully.

“You
’d know about that better than anyone, Ren. How it can be anything: a familiar face, a smell, a food, a sound can bring it all rushing back.”

“He hasn’t
mentioned what did it?” I ask.

“No. And I know better than to push.
Especially at the beginning,” she says.

A
greeing with her, I nod. “Is Josh staying at the Castle?” I ask.

“Yes. And as of today, so are we
!” she announces with a big grin.

I clap my ha
nds together and let out a sigh of relief. I have always loved staying at the Castle, especially when my family is there together, all of us surrounded by recollections of our beginnings and every earthly lifetime thereafter. The air, thick with our shared memories but far from stale, fills me up like a warm, hearty stew I have never lost the taste for, as, well nourished, I continue along my chosen path with the same driving hunger to leave new footprints for the lost to follow.