travelling with her father as he looked for work and
watching some children argue over whose turn it was to choose what scroll they
found that day. One little boy insisted it was his turn and the scroll they
found would reveal how to summon a dragon. The boy had been dismissed by his
friends but Marybeth thought his ideas fantastic and longed to play in their
game.
She took a deep
breath and proceeded into the darkness. The ceiling sloped and forced Marybeth
to stoop at first . She lit the lantern to get a sense
of where she was. She was worried that it might have got too wet from her
battle with the drowning mud, but much to her relief it had ignited on her
first attempt.
The
corridor stretched out in front of her. Taking another deep breath, she
proceeded with caution. The walls were mostly plain stone but occasionally
there would be some crude drawings depicting the Gloom. One image showed the
Gloom holding back several figures whilst men cowered before it. It was unusual
to see the Gloom portrayed as anything other than a destructive being.
“The
Children of the moon,” Marybeth muttered to no one. She was surprised that they
would have known about this Chamber, they were the only people who could have
drawn the picture and portrayed the Gloom as something other than a destructive
being. Their possible presence in the Chamber unsettled her, even if it was
years ago. She continued down the corridor, but with the lantern now attached
to her staff and one hand on the hilt of her sword.
After a while the ceiling began to slope upwards again. Eventually the
light cast from the lantern revealed the corridor narrowed to a small hole.
Kneeling down, she saw the hole opened into a room. She looked once behind her
to make sure no one had followed her before crawling through.
She
found herself in a circular chamber. The curved walls arched into a dome far
above her head. A small wooden table and chair were situated in the centre.
Portholes with markings around their edges lined the walls from top to bottom.
The domed room smelled musty and for a moment all Marybeth could do was stare
in awe. The wall emanated a sense of something ancient, of something long lost.
Her thoughts whirled with the history that had occurred in this room. Who had
built it? Who had known all of the secrets in Frindoth? Was the answer to her
father’s belief contained within these stone walls?
She
approached the table. Carved on the top was an inscription:
The
scroll chamber:
Seek the scroll relevant to thy cause,
Take it swiftly, do not pause.
Only the worthy will the Custodians permit the right,
To borrow a scroll from the Marshes of Night.
“Whoever
the Custodians were, they were crap at poetry,” she said aloud. Still, the
warning unnerved her.
Marybeth
looked about the Chamber. There must have been at least two hundred portholes.
Her head swam with the discovery. All of these portholes might contain secrets
of Frindoth that no one else knew. She approached the nearest porthole. It was
large enough to get one of her arms through and depicted a row of ships in
front of an enormous wall. The Edge, Marybeth realised. The Edge was rumoured
to be a gigantic stone wall that towered to the sky and surrounded Frindoth and
Lakisdoa. Very few had ever seen the marked end of the world and like the
Chamber it was considered to be a myth.
She
went to put her arm into the hole and then hesitated. The inscription mentioned
“only the worthy may take the scroll.” What did that mean? Surely there must be
some sort of defence, otherwise, anyone that discovered the room could learn
Frindoth’s secrets.
“Take
your time,” she said to herself, remembering the drowning mud outside.
The
Chamber was silent but that did not mean the scroll was unprotected. Who were
the Custodians, as well? She had seen no one else since she arrived in the
Marshes. Again, her hand went to the hilt of her sword.
An idea came to
her. She placed her sword in the hole. It
watching some children argue over whose turn it was to choose what scroll they
found that day. One little boy insisted it was his turn and the scroll they
found would reveal how to summon a dragon. The boy had been dismissed by his
friends but Marybeth thought his ideas fantastic and longed to play in their
game.
She took a deep
breath and proceeded into the darkness. The ceiling sloped and forced Marybeth
to stoop at first . She lit the lantern to get a sense
of where she was. She was worried that it might have got too wet from her
battle with the drowning mud, but much to her relief it had ignited on her
first attempt.
The
corridor stretched out in front of her. Taking another deep breath, she
proceeded with caution. The walls were mostly plain stone but occasionally
there would be some crude drawings depicting the Gloom. One image showed the
Gloom holding back several figures whilst men cowered before it. It was unusual
to see the Gloom portrayed as anything other than a destructive being.
“The
Children of the moon,” Marybeth muttered to no one. She was surprised that they
would have known about this Chamber, they were the only people who could have
drawn the picture and portrayed the Gloom as something other than a destructive
being. Their possible presence in the Chamber unsettled her, even if it was
years ago. She continued down the corridor, but with the lantern now attached
to her staff and one hand on the hilt of her sword.
After a while the ceiling began to slope upwards again. Eventually the
light cast from the lantern revealed the corridor narrowed to a small hole.
Kneeling down, she saw the hole opened into a room. She looked once behind her
to make sure no one had followed her before crawling through.
She
found herself in a circular chamber. The curved walls arched into a dome far
above her head. A small wooden table and chair were situated in the centre.
Portholes with markings around their edges lined the walls from top to bottom.
The domed room smelled musty and for a moment all Marybeth could do was stare
in awe. The wall emanated a sense of something ancient, of something long lost.
Her thoughts whirled with the history that had occurred in this room. Who had
built it? Who had known all of the secrets in Frindoth? Was the answer to her
father’s belief contained within these stone walls?
She
approached the table. Carved on the top was an inscription:
The
scroll chamber:
Seek the scroll relevant to thy cause,
Take it swiftly, do not pause.
Only the worthy will the Custodians permit the right,
To borrow a scroll from the Marshes of Night.
“Whoever
the Custodians were, they were crap at poetry,” she said aloud. Still, the
warning unnerved her.
Marybeth
looked about the Chamber. There must have been at least two hundred portholes.
Her head swam with the discovery. All of these portholes might contain secrets
of Frindoth that no one else knew. She approached the nearest porthole. It was
large enough to get one of her arms through and depicted a row of ships in
front of an enormous wall. The Edge, Marybeth realised. The Edge was rumoured
to be a gigantic stone wall that towered to the sky and surrounded Frindoth and
Lakisdoa. Very few had ever seen the marked end of the world and like the
Chamber it was considered to be a myth.
She
went to put her arm into the hole and then hesitated. The inscription mentioned
“only the worthy may take the scroll.” What did that mean? Surely there must be
some sort of defence, otherwise, anyone that discovered the room could learn
Frindoth’s secrets.
“Take
your time,” she said to herself, remembering the drowning mud outside.
The
Chamber was silent but that did not mean the scroll was unprotected. Who were
the Custodians, as well? She had seen no one else since she arrived in the
Marshes. Again, her hand went to the hilt of her sword.
An idea came to
her. She placed her sword in the hole. It
Similar Books
