The 13th Descent: Book One of The Rosefire Trilogy (23 page)

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We leave the Castle with the Arches under Josh’s arm and the Annals on my back and quick-step it towards the forest and the Clearing. But, as the trees grow closer, Josh gets quieter, and from what I can gather, more and more nervous.

Not so long ago, I was where
I am assuming he is now, but my jitters have done a backflip into excited anticipation. If it wasn’t for the extra weight I am carrying and my heart being heavy for Josh and the anxiety he is clearly experiencing, I would have skipped the whole way to the Clearing.

Josh
suddenly pulls me into his side and clamps a protective arm around me. I stare up at him and into what resembles the spooked face of a white rabbit. I go to speak, to help calm his nerves, to reassure him, but he lifts his hand, asking me to be quiet.

I shrug and continue to stand in his tight hold, thinking that maybe I should just let him worry
it out of his system. But seeing him pivot towards every sound, every rustle, I can’t, in good conscience, let this go on for a moment longer.

“Birds, Josh,” I whisper. “It’s only birds.”

He kisses me on the forehead and instructs me to, “Stay here,” and with the Arches still tucked under his arm, he strides away from me, carefully leans the Arches against a tree fifty metres away, and sprints back to me.

“What did you do
that for?” I ask, agitated by what I see as a pointless, time wasting exercise considering how close it is getting to noon.

He grabs me by the shoulders and with frantic
stare, he seethes, “The Bloodstones. They’re here.”

“What?!” I
unintentionally squawk.  .              

He slaps his hand over my mouth.
“Please don’t speak. Just listen to me, Ren,” he says, panting. “They’re here. Now. Zach is a Bloodstone…and he led hem here.”

Instant
terror has me fighting to get out of his hold, to do something, anything. “Ren!” he growls, commanding my attention. “All they want for now is me, and I will go with them. But you have to get to the Clearing now, to where you and everyone else can be kept hidden and safe.”

Even in the midst of
panic, I acknowledge that when all four Arches are put in place, opening the gates between the Tor world and ours, the Clearing becomes a neutral place - like a purgatory, one that can’t be seen in our world or theirs by those outside of it.

He crushes his lips to mine, kissing me like he is passing on all of the life he has left. “Do you know what you meant to me
? What you mean to me?” he asks in a rush.

Speechless, I nod.

“I have always loved Shoshanna,” he pants as perspiration mixed with tears streams down his face. “And no matter what happens, I want you to know, beautiful girl, that I am falling in love with you,” he says into my lips, kissing me hard, and turns and runs towards the solid smudges of red my wet, blurry eyes can just make out through the trees.

“Josh!” I scream out
as Benni Dhoo unexpectedly thunders past me, his black form moving faster than I have seen in centuries. He lopes past his son towards the red ghost stepping into full view, as a gunshot echoes through the forest, stopping Benni Dhoo dead in his tracks.

J
osh’s primal scream tears through the space fast closing between us now he has turned his back on the red cloaks and we are both sprinting towards our fallen and bleeding Benni Dhoo. The pained cry ripping through and out of Josh resonates in the depths of my old soul as my heart pounds out of my chest and my feet pound the earth, pushing them to move faster even though the agonising sounds I am running towards cruelly echo that I will never be fast enough. 

Josh gets to Benni Dhoo befo
re I do. He drops to his knees and immediately clamps his hands over the blood drenched wound spreading across his father’s furry side. I pull up at Benni Dhoo’s back a few seconds later to see him weakly lift his head, look straight at Josh and shake his head, no. My legs crumple beneath me as the unbearable largeness of that small gesture hits home.

“No. I’m not g
oing to let you die. I am not going to let those bastards take you too,” a repentant son vows to his dying father.  It is only now that I feel the weight of the Annals in the backpack I’m still wearing.

Benni Dhoo tries turn his head further around so he can see me. To save him the effort, I lean forward and over
him, and coax his fiery amber gaze to follow mine so his head is lying back down on the grass. With unchanging eyes, he intently watches me as his greying black coat falls away leaving him bare skinned and pink, his sharp teeth blunt into a smile of yielding peace, and his claws elongate into hands and feet of the lanky man he once was. And as his now mortal blood coats Josh’s insistent hands, overflowing and running down the valleys between his protruding ribs and seeping into the earth beneath him, a time weary Nathan looks up at his distraught first born son and breathlessly says, “My love for you and our kin has kept me going all these years. But now, son, your love for me has to let me go.”

“No, Father…you can’t leave me…not now…please…”
Josh chokes out.    

“The darkest night bri
ngs with it the brightest stars, my son. My passing will add to your night, which will help you to shine brighter for all to see. And, I am happy and thankful for it,” he rasps as he gazes up at two of us hovering over him. “I pass my role as Protector of the Blessed Tree onto you both-” A warning shot rings out in the distance, either to summon Josh, threaten me, or both. “Josh, you must go with the Bloodstones, and Rose, you must go to the Clearing,” Nathan gasps. Josh and I look at each other, heartbroken, bewildered, and torn. “NOW!” Nathan gargles with the last of his strength as the fire behind his eyes flickers, dims and vanishes, and his frail human body slumps lifelessly between us.

As the force of
Nathan’s last word reaches the trees concealing our enemies, a hail of gunshots, well or poorly aimed, dance across the ground, kicking up the dirt beside us and startling us both. “We will be together again…in this lifetime…I promise,” Josh pledges through gritted teeth, an intense stare, and a hard binding kiss, and stands, turns and runs towards the small band of men draped in the same colour as the centuries of blood they have on their hands, once again leaving me grief-stricken and alone with so much left unsaid, unfelt and undone.

The living and the dead
helplessly stare after Josh running into the trees towards Zach and two other Bloodstones, an older male and a dumpy senior citizen, who quickly usher him further into the thick foliage and away from my sight. Heavy with shock, devastation and the weight I’m still carrying on my back, I will myself not to fall in a heap: not before I close the eyes and kiss the sleeping face of my beloved protector and my dearest friend, and not before I get Arches and the Annals to the Clearing to let the Luminaries and the Tor clans safely through. 

“God speed. I love you, and I thank you,” I whisper
up into the air, hoping, knowing, that Benni Dhoo can hear me, and with image of his fiery citrine eyes blazing in my mind and in my heart, I heave myself up off the ground and run for the tree where Josh left the Arches.

Realising how dangerously close it is to noon, I try my
damndest to swing the stack of Arches under my arm like Josh did, but I soon figure out that my puny arms aren’t long enough to hold them that way. I try and hoist them up, thinking I can run holding them over my head, but with their cumbersome size and combined weight thrown off balance by the weight of my back pack, that plan is a very short lived one.

Then, an epiphany hits me like bolt of lightning charged with a Zeus-load full of smarts,
realising that if I loosen my shoulder straps and evenly feed the ends of Arches through the slack hanging down on either side of me with the top curves of the Arches pressed snug to my belly like a really wide, chunky belt, I can support that front part with my hands, and the shoulder braces should be tough enough, and, at their loosest, have enough room to hold all the long woody bits that’ll be sticking out the back.

Shocked and impressed by my sudden ingenuity, one by one,
I slide the Arches into position, and although the way the load is positioned across my body is bulky and uncomfortable, it is secure and surprisingly manageable. With all of the Arches in place, I make an uncoordinated mad dash for the trees, looking like a raged hunchback monster with
t
wo long gnarly horns protruding from where my hips should be.

Using up most of my
petrol tickets on that run, I end up awkwardly trudging down the woodland path that runs alongside Hallow Groves. I turn right at the oldest yew tree, go down a ways, and then turn left at the tallest willow and shuffle a few metres past it, scanning overgrown greenery on the right side of the path for the obscure trail that leads to the Clearing.

Usually
I can find it with my eyes closed, but as the sun relentlessly beats down overhead, drying up my lungs, my throat, and my already dubious sense of reasoning, all I can think about is finding some cool shade, some cool water, and a cool head to share this burden with.

“I should
know where this bloody path is,” I scold myself, adding to the heat I’m already under.

I try to calm myself and survey the situation, but the only realisation I come up with is
that I’m dangerously close to losing it. So, I decide to go with what comes naturally, and my impulsive nature dictates that instead of wasting valuable time looking for the blasted path I know is there, I will just trample my way through the foliage in front of me and clear my own path to the Clearing.

Yes, I may not be able to
clearly see my way ahead, but I know I will be heading in the right direction, and that’s got to be better than blindly walking up and down searching under a row of scraggly bushes. 

This decision I soon regret as the
spindly branches take turns whipping me across the face, and the sharp rocks and grabby undergrowth slash at my legs, hell bent on tripping me up.

I may be hurt,
bleeding, and cursing my rash choice, but I am sure I am making headway; that is until I step on the side of a rock hiding under the ground cover that rolls my ankle, and I tumble and fall into a mangled heap. I clutch my ankle and cry out in pain and frustrated rage, and with a new and debilitating sense of hopelessness, I clench my eyes and my fists, throw my head back and scream up at the sun, “AARRGGHHHHH!!”

Drained
by my outburst, I go to flop onto my back, but I can’t because the spikey ends of the Arches have me propped up like a marionette puppet. This latest predicament does me in, and I sob, wail, and shriek up to whoever may be listening, “I’m done. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore….”

The
n a little brown wren flies down to where I’m sprawled on my arse on the damp forest floor and chirps like she is laughing at me. I hiss at her, and she flies away, higher and higher towards the scorching sun, upwards, onwards, and into my salvation, that is the tops of the not-so-distant conifer trees surrounding the Clearing.

This
heartening sight immediately douses my anger, renews my vigour, and replenishes my hope, but, as I try and push myself upright, I soon feel that it hasn’t done much to dull my pain. Supported by one of the low lying branches that tried to bring me down, I eventually hoist myself up into a stand, and with the help of a large stick I find nearby, I force myself to hobble through what’s left of the dense greenery and into the welcoming shade of the smile-shaped boughs of the spruces flanking the North corner of the Clearing, that, if I didn’t know any better, look as happy to see me as I do them.      

Acutely aware that
I’ve only got mere minutes until noon, I stumble through the cool shadows of the border trees and into the shining opulence of the Clearing. Mum and Aunt Romey are both standing on the grassy mound in the centre with the X mat already in place, nervously pacing as they wait for me and Josh to arrive.

“Mum! Aunt Romey!” I yell
which comes out more like a squeak. Like they’ve inherited Benni Dhoo’s phenomenal sense of hearing, they both turn to see me using all of my strength to remain vertical. 

 
Straight away, they are relieved, but as they take in my crooked stance, my battered appearance and the fact that I am on my own, they react in unison, lifting the hems of their dresses and frantically sprinting down the small hill and across the freshly cut grass to where I am.

“Ren! Ren, we’re coming!” Mum calls out like I can’t see them thundering towards me at a mile a minute.
The instant after they stop in front of me, Aunt Romey is behind me, and with Mum staying where I can see her, their hands start at my head and work their way down checking for injuries. When Aunt Romey gets to my shoulders, she carefully lifts the pack full of Annals off my back and I let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Ren. Ren, look at me. Are you alright?” Mum asks, trying to calm her voice. 

“What’s the time?” I urgently ask.

“Ren-

“WHAT’S THE TIME?” I ask louder.

“Eleven forty six,” Aunt Romey calmly answers from behind me, like we’ve got fourteen days, not fourteen minutes, to get the Arches in place before the gate between realms will be closed off for another year.

“We need to get the
Arches up and get the Four and the Tor clans through, now,” I pant.

“Ren. Where’s Josh-”

“STOP!” I yell. “I’ll explain everything once we get the Arches up. Look, I’m ok and, for now, so is Josh. But Mum, I need your help to get the Arches in place, now!”

“
Let’s get you to the centre of the mat and
we’ll
do it,” Aunt Romey states as she strides towards the Arches Mum carefully took off me and laid on the grass. “Rho, I’ll do the East and South corners and you do the North and West,” she says to Mum.

“
I can get myself to the mat,” I tell them. “But all the same, it won’t work if you do it. You’re not a Rose,” I remind my aunt.

“Aren’t I?” she answers
as she hurries off with two of the Arches.

The inconceivable
immediately becomes my new and terrifying reality. Nanna wasn’t a Rose?” I gasp.

“No
. This lifetime, she chose not to be,” Mum states as she stakes the North Arch into the ground beside me.

I was wrong. The Bloodstones were wrong, and my Nanna died in vain.

As Mum runs the other Arch over to the West corner, I stumble my way over to the mound. I climb up it on all fours and sit in my place at the middle of the cross. Once all four Arches in place, Mum runs back to the North corner to pick up the backpack full of Annals, and her and Aunt Romey hurry back to join me on the hill. 

Once again, here I sit
in this all-important central position without my divine counterpart beside me. My sadness about it is so great, it overflows and soundlessly teams down my cheeks. “Turn to the North, Ren,” Mum gently reminds me as she moves to her usual spot on my left, and offers me her hand so I can hold in mine. Aunt Romey sits on my right for the second time in our long history, and does the same.

And with
this simple physical connection at the heart of this sacred space, three becomes one: two opposites aligned by a conduit, with the conduit acting as reminder of what the world is gravely missing.

Prince Arthos
, looking more like a very concerned Uncle Craig dressed in ancient regal getup, bursts from the North Arch. We know he has seen what has taken place since sunrise this morning. From just before the rains up until three moments before this one, he has been in the Tor Realm, and like the Tor, he has been able see all that happens on both sides of the veil.

W
ith wild eyes, he dutifully sits in his place at North end of the cross. Clearly his skin is the only thing holding him together, but he stays silent, respectfully waiting like the rest of us for all four Luminaries to arrive and take their place at their end of the cross before breathing a word.

W
e Three Roses turn to the East and welcome Avira through the Arch. Stern faced, she flitters to the mound and gracefully sits at her end of the cross, tucking her legs underneath her.

I can’t turn quick
ly enough towards the South to welcome Mike, who charges through the Arch dressed as Prince Dural complete with armour, sword and shield, walking tall with an air of confidence, strength and astuteness only he can provide. Overwhelmed with relief and joy, I unthinkingly move to stand and greet him. I would have run to him if it weren’t for Aunt Romey’s firm hold on my ankle.