Concentric Circles Part 14

"It isna here right now," Keira said, with a smile. "Bry will come if need be."

"That's right, Shay," Meekal said. "Want a tour?"

She looked up at the wave of the broken wall. The stones of a lone archway had the look of timelessness. The intricate masonry work drew her attention. "How old is this castle? There isn't much of it left."

Keira motioned Shayla to follow. "The original keep of the motte and bailey was built by Gwys. Some knew him by his Latin name, Wizo. He died in eleven hundred thirty. It was taken in battle several times by different warriors and has a history of falling to treachery."

"Shayla likes history." Meekal said and continued for Keira. "Wiston is considered one of the best surviving motte and bailey castles. There are only five others that boast a stone keep on their summits."

"Pfft. I love history. Get it right, love," she said, jesting. She stopped at the top of a line of stairs built into the earthen hillside. For some reason, the stones brought to mind the thought of journeys into the unknown. She paused at the top and turned to look at the exterior of the keep.

The wall was several feet thick, broken away in some areas indicating both bombardment and the erosion of time. Shayla inhaled deeply and lifted her hand tentatively to touch the grey stones. A harsh, piercing scream penetrated her pores. She shivered, pulling her hand back in surprise.

"Shay?"

Shaking the feeling off, she turned to face the vista stretching northward. The English countryside around them rolled downward in a steep hill. The high ground of the structure was considered the motte. Below, the earth leveled until it reached an old stone wall with a split wood gate.

A rambling manor sat against the hillside. The roof was slate grey. It rested, nestled by the green rise of the outer bailey, sheltered by tall trees.

Keira's voice cut through her thoughts. "That's the medieval house built much later."

Meekal hissed, a frown crossing his face, he tugged on Shayla's hand. "We need to get back. Something's wrong." Turning to Keira, he said, "Sorry, to cut this visit short. See you later."

Keira only had time to give Shayla a soft smile and a nod.

"How can you tell there's something wrong?"

"The portrait. There's a ley line running right through it."

Shayla and Meekal landed in Meekal's bedchamber to the sound of bells tolling.

"What's that?"

Meekal tilted his ear toward the window. "Church bells." Shaking his head, Meekal guided her toward the stairs and down.

The bells tolled without stop, timed to perfection and tone.

"d.a.m.n."

"Kal?"

"Hurry," he urged, leading her through the bookcase into the upper hall where they met Joseph Chilkwell.

He handed them each a vest. "Good. You're back. Here."

Shayla stared at hers.

"Armor. Put it on. It will protect you from some spells and bullets."

"Bullets?"

"Just in case."

"But," she said, trying to shift disbelief away.

"It's a Death Knell," Meekal said, thrusting his arm into the vest. "Somebody has died. It's probably Syther letting us know."

Her heart flipped. Breathing erratically, she pulled the vest on and followed them down the stairs to meet Chaeli and Harry in the foyer.

Harry greeted them with only a slight nod and turned to Joseph. "They're at St. Dunstan's Chapel. Mum called James. They're on their way."

"Shayla, have CIARANLEXISS ready." Joseph stilled and waited for her to retrieve him from her boot.

Coming up after reaching down for her sgian dhu, Shayla met Meekal's eyes, and bit nervously on her lower lip.

"AH, THE ANTIc.i.p.aTION OF BATTLE." CIARAN sounded excited.

Shayla tried to act nonchalant and ignored CIARANLEXISS by refusing to respond verbally. Instead, she clutched him tightly.

A spiral of air carried them to the chapel.

They landed behind St. Dunstan's Chapel in the midst of flickering torch light and fearful crying. Their appearance brought about a scream, cut off suddenly.

Shayla noticed that Joseph's face was in shadow, even as his eyes glinted with ruthlessness.

"Is nothing sacred to you, Syther?" Joseph, a dirk in his hand at the ready, faced the evil Thyrza.

Syther snorted, pointing a new wand. "The only thing sacred to me is the knowledge that you'd come running, Chilkwell." Syther looked around. "Where's the whelp?"

Meekal was nowhere to be seen within the chapel grounds.

Heart pounding, Shayla gasped, spinning to look for him.

No Meekal.

Gail, on her knees, held captive between two Thyrza, cried as she stared wide-eyed at them. Her fear filled eyes locked with Shayla's, and then rolled back in her head. She fainted.

Someone lay p.r.o.ne on the ground in front of Gail. Recognition slammed Shayla into reality. A sob wrenched its way to her mouth and out, colliding with the morbid sound of bells.

It was Mrs. Graham, bloodied from her cut throat. The coppery scent of death a.s.sailed Shayla's senses.

Then through the sound of tolling bells, Shayla heard chanting.

Corby Zubird, on his knees, chanted, "Come forth, Lord of Darkness. Return and conquer. Come forth."

Meekal materialized behind Zubird, pulled his head back, and clamped a hand over his mouth.

Zubird reached up and pulled on Meekal's intruding hand. They rolled on the ground. Single minded, Zubird continued to speak his black words of power, even as Meekal pressed against his throat. Garbled sounds filled the air around them.

Shayla knew it was the intent behind the words that counted.

A dagger appeared in Zubird's hand. With a croaking laugh, he jabbed.

Grunts ensued. Arms and legs tangled in combat.

Fearful of the outcome, Shayla rushed across the gap separating her from Meekal. Each step forward made the gulf between them greater. She knew magic had a hand in her failed attempt. A roar of anger burst forth and she turned her wrath on the closest Thyrza while keeping one eye on the unfolding scene, tormented by its potential outcome. "Wicked b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she yelled and spun CIARANLEXISS.

The Thyrza twisted in the air and landed upon the ground trussed up like a pig over a flaming fire. His wand pasted to his forehead, snapped over a crooked nose, and down to a pointy chin. The man glared at her, cross-eyed.

Shayla turned, heart racing and moved forward without any magical deterrent this time.

Combatants in the battle between good and evil still rolled on the ground, bloodied and breathing heavily.

She raised her sgian dhu, but hesitated. "CIARAN, help."

"'TIS TOO CLOSE. WAIT."

Trepidation stole her breath while her beat thunderously.

Meekal came out on top, straddling Zubird and holding the dagger away from his body. In the vortex of magic, black mist wrapped them, growing thicker and obscuring their conflict.

Purple stars materialized from Meekal and began consuming the dark mist.

In that instant, a magnetic power surge told Shayla everything she really needed to know about her love for Meekal.

"Dark Lord-"

"d.a.m.ned murdering b.u.g.g.e.r!"

The veil of magic didn't obscure sound.

Snap!

Shayla froze, unable to see clearly.

Zubird stilled. The chanting mage silenced forever. The evil Thyrza was sprawled on the dew dampened gra.s.s in death's twisted posture.

"Meekal!"

Cobalt blue eyes met hers as he stood.

Bang! Bang!

The bullets impacted his vest and knocked him to the ground. He landed on top of Zubird.

"No!" Shayla rushed to his side. A bubble of silence surrounded her, blocking out the continued battle noises. Down she went on her knees.

Meekal groaned, and then rolled back up on his knees with a highlander's roar. With a fierce thrust upward with his left hand, the shooter flew into the air and hovered amidst the smoky air. The deadly gun wedged in a tree branch out of reach.

Magical curses flew through the sacred air. The Death Knell continued.

She wanted to hold him. One glance told her he understood. I love you, she thought with power growing from the heart.

Me, too, his expression replied.

The combined chaotic action of everything around them blurred. A Thyrza attacked her, sending an unknown curse. Reflexive motion came to the forefront, guiding her movements. Shayla swung CIARANLEXISS, deflecting the spell's energy with the blade. Then, she used her fist and feet. Leaping at him, she planted her boots in his gut.

He grunted from the impact, but the persistent Thyrza kept coming back; leering with taunting arrogance. Even at close range, his curses continued to miss.

Finally, in frustration, she jabbed with CIARANLEXISS.

The Thyrza began to shift in an odd way. Shimmering in and out of focus, he screamed and thrashed as though in excruciating pain. Without warning, he became pixilated, made a popping sound and vanished.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, where'd he go?"

"TO A SOUL CHAMBER," CIARANLEXISS answered. "WITHIN STYGIAN."

"Later," Shayla huffed, not understanding. Breathing hard, she turned to the next. "Wand." She broke the wand and tossed the pieces to the gra.s.s. A flash of her hand yielded nothing, so she went down and swung her long leg in a circle.

Thyrza number two landed hard on the ground with a groan. In a last ditch attempt, he used half of his wand and swore at her, "Adeleo!"

Shayla moved quickly to her right, watching the fizzle of flame exit the broken wand ineffectively. "Fire?"

Sheitan screeched when the weakened curse hit her. Baring fangs, Sheitan lunged at the offending Thyrza, tearing his throat open. Her head came up, fierce gaze locking with Shayla, she hissed before moving off to the side and slipping under a garden bench.

Shayla looked down at the mangled man and shuddered. Pulling her gaze away, she saw Meekal fighting with a woman and rushed to his a.s.sistance.

The Thyrza witch sneered at her. "So the wee Fae comes to save the day."

Shayla arched her brow and paused to look at the woman's hair. It was bleached pure white. One dark green streak hung limply down the right side of a face painted like a mime. A heavy braid swung on the other side. Shayla snorted. "Wee?"

Meekal snickered.

Black painted fingernails twitched around her fiendish wand. "Scath-"

"You must need gla.s.ses," Shayla said, smirking.

Round wire rimmed gla.s.sed materialized, attached to her face. The pasty-faced woman screamed and dropped her wand in panic, obviously unable to see clearly.

"Wand." Shayla caught the wand and snapped it in half. What is it with bone wands? she thought with a sense of disgust.

The witch roared with animalistic rage at the sound of her wand breaking. She rushed toward Shayla even though she could not see; deadly nails out in an attempt to scratch.

Meekal moved with graceful a.s.surance. He and went down, using the ground to support his body, he swept his hand in an up-down motion and then in a forceful arc.

The witch fell with a thud. More incessant screeching.

Shayla murmured, "Lingo-bind her now. Did you really have to go down to the ground in that position? I thought you were hit by a spell or something."