Concentric Circles Part 32

Footsteps resounded, clattering in dispute between stone and stiletto heels. "You know cell phone service doesn't reach through the wards and Gnomonn, Steve," a querulous voice said.

Meekal turned, observing a woman and peculiar looking man. He squinted because the man's face wore part shadow.

"Doesn't matter anyway." Large and boxy, the man crammed his cell phone into a pocket of his black trench coat, clearly disgruntled. "Wish this was over and we could return to a normal life."

The woman snorted. "Yeah. That'll happen."

"Look," the man said, glancing around cautiously.

Meekal then realized the man's face bore its own shade. That explained why he had such a strange appearance. A purple port-wine stain marred the left side of his face like a phantom's mask. He had seen something about this physical oddity before. Where?

Steve lowered his voice to a husky whisper and tilted forward. "Don't you see, the plan won't work?"

"You're dreaming," the woman insisted while eyeing her partial reflection in the oval gilded mirror. The cowl hood of her cloak covered the majority of her face.

Meekal scrutinized her closely. Why look in a mirror at something you can't see?

Shapely fingers traced the cowl's edge. It glistened in the lamplight as though black sequins adorned it. "There's no such thing as your interpretation of normal," she said, voice calmer and matter-of-fact. She pa.s.sed a black tipped finger over a full, pouty lower lip-it changed to blood red in the wake of applied magic. "If it wasn't Syther," she said, pausing to pat her lips together, "it'd be someone else. At least we know him. The proverbial good verses evil thing. I'd rather be on the winning side."

"Yeah, well, we're just p.a.w.ns in his game. Expendable p.a.w.ns-win or lose."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," Meekal breathed.

"What was that?" The woman looked around, apprehension on her face. She tossed the length of her cape over her shoulder exposing black leather trousers and a silk blouse. A wand appeared in her hand.

"This is no time to let your sensitivity guard down, Myra," Steve scoffed.

"I heard a voice. It said, 'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.' I'm positive. Don't discount my gifts over yours." Myra bristled. "An old castle like this has to be haunted. Besides, Syther appreciates my input."

Steve snorted, raking her lissome figure. "I bet. Spot on."

Make a move. Now Meekal remembered the purple port-wine stain faced man. Too busy to stop before the grotesque scene during his first journey through the stones, he had pa.s.sed the memory with reckless abandonment, figuring it had little importance. p.a.w.ns indeed. Move. p.a.w.n to c5.

"Don't be foolish," Myra said. "Everybody knows Syther's eclectic tastes. I don't fall into that category. Come on, we better get upstairs." She pushed the hood of her cloak back slightly, revealing just enough of her face and its lacy black tattoo across violet eyes, giving the impression of a feminized Zorro mask. Pearl white tresses escaped, framing a pointed chin that rose in arrogance.

Steve surveyed the grand entrance with a practiced eye. "I'm not going just yet."

The rear of the p.a.w.n chain is the weakest. Humm.

"Suit yourself." Myra mounted the stairs, taking them with exuberance, racing for the top.

"Nice," Steve muttered under his breath, watching her progress, cloak billowing like black wings. "Like a raven taking flight." He spun on his heel and approached Meekal's position near the archway. "There's gotta be a b.l.o.o.d.y land-line here somewhere. Modern day conveniences within archaic dest.i.tution." He shivered, glanced back over his shoulder and entered the narrow pa.s.sageway.

Meekal grinned and shoved against the archway. Stone moved. The open arch closed tight behind the man.

Steve roared and raced to the wall. Wand drawn, he tapped the stones. Nothing happened.

In a rush of forward motion, Meekal closed off two other doors. Got cha. p.a.w.n captured.

"Dammit!" Steve roared like an angry tiger and spun, clearly with the intent to wind-ride out. He bounced against the ceiling and landed sprawled, arms and legs twisted akimbo.

"Ooh. Ouch," Meekal said, wincing, knowing exactly what that felt like. "Tough luck, ole man. You need to stay right where you are. Be back later, justice in tow. Your time's just beginning. The Montclair family deserves more after what you did to their son. Expendable p.a.w.ns, indeed. Well, gotta go. Myra's expecting me."

Steve moaned, shifted position and pa.s.sed out.

Meekal moved back to the grand entrance and jaunted up the wall to the second story. He knew Myra went to Syther's library. "Whoa. Maybe not."

Myra, at the end of the corridor, well past the library door, glanced around with distinct furtiveness. Returning her attention to the end wall, she tapped a niche containing a display of an antique chest plate, forearm vambraces and leather gauntlets, muttering under her breath, "One, two buckle my shoe."

Meekal snorted.

She jumped, startled. "Who's that?"

"Boo."

"That's not funny," Myra said in a hissing tone, pointing a wand wrapped in copper and tipped with an obsidian crystal point.

"It's me." He pushed on a stone. It moved outward toward the nervous woman.

Eyes wide she stared at the protruding grey stone, backing away and shaking her head in denial of the vision.

"p.a.w.ns are the first to fall." Meekal added a ghostly moan to his recitation. "You look for a door, yet scamper in fear from a moved wall? Ha!"

She snapped her fingers sharply, the sound reverberating in the corridor. Her wand glowed, a brilliant black light emanating from its end.

"What's that supposed to do? Reveal me?" Meekal laughed. "Intended black magic won't work."

"Three, four open the door."

"Isn't it supposed to be, three, four, close the door?" Meekal taunted.

"Open!" Myra's voice rang in desperation. "I know there's a door here!"

"Open sesame." He chortled. "What do you seek?"

"This is no joking matter! I need to get to the Circular Chamber!"

"No."

Warning alarms sounded, blaring like a bomb raid siren. Somewhere in the distance, a hound howled mournfully.

Myra gasped and whirled, her expression one of abject terror. Her hood billowed down, revealing gossamer strands of hair which floated on static electricity generated by the fear of discovery. She paused, trying to get her ragged breathing in control. "Open please."

Syther's roar filled the upper levels of the castle accompanied by a loud crash in the library.

"It's time." Meekal intoned.

Myra hit the wall niche with one hand, waved her wand recklessly with the other. Nothing happened.

"Swish and flick," he said.

No door appeared.

She pirouetted and took off running.

"Oops, you aren't going anywhere." Meekal spun his hand in a spiral. A tapestry, depicting the cla.s.sical foxhunt, wavered off the wall and engulfed Myra within a tight bond. Meekal waved his hand. She landed gently next to her slumbering companion, Steve.

Meekal touched the side of his nose, and then eyed the two stone figures p.r.o.ne on the floor from his location as though gazing through an opened window. "It's just temporary, being frozen into stone will preserve evidence and pause the time in your lives."

Amidst screeching alarms, howling, fiendish hounds and a roaring Syther, Meekal gazed at the upper corridor. "Guess this is it."

Syther burst through the door, banging its wrought iron handle against wall.

Meekal grimaced and rubbed his left elbow. The pain wasn't as bad now; once again, something had changed. He decided not to focus on the new sensation. The back of Syther's head was much more interesting. He followed at a distance. Why not skirr down to the maze?

Syther rushed through another door, raced across the chamber and flung the carved double doors of an old armoire open.

"Ah," Meekal said. "Weapons." He craned his neck to see what Syther sought. Objects of magical origin flew at random, tossed over Syther's shoulder. His head confined within the large wardrobe, he muttered angry, indiscernible words. Finally, Syther straightened.

"Oh boy," Meekal stared at the weapon Syther now held aloft. He swallowed, turned on a castle breath and headed for maze.

[22] Chambers of the Soul Moisture blurred Shayla's vision as she dropped her gaze to the markings on the stones. Meekal's words, "I'll be back soon," spoken from the walls around her filled the empty places in her psyche long ignored. Everything wavered through a curtain of unshed tears, and then returned to focus with newfound clarity. To the left of the Eihwaz rune the floor bore the Pictish glyph depicting the cat. "Do you suppose this cat is representative of Sheitan?"

"That is a possibility." Neveous' voice sounded thoughtful.

The marking on the right was a warrior on his steed. Just past it, ripples carved in the stone gave the impression of ocean waves.

Strange, they remind me of the spiral trim on our robes during the ward strengthening. She paused in her thoughts and decided to prepare for meditation. Sitting before the marked stones, she pulled the hemat.i.te and flint out of the pocket of her jacket and placed them on the floor. She added a blue kyanite stone for clearing and balancing.

She sensed Neveous taking up position behind her. CIARANLEXISS, now in her joined palms, felt warm between her chilled fingers. Drawing her focus and breath in, she centered and began the journey within to the chambers of her soul.

Awareness of her energy systems came to the forefront of her mind's eye. The electrical impulses sent its charges through her, head to toe. She allowed the corners of her mouth to rise in appreciation of the opportunity to know herself so well. Next, she focused on her blood flow. The rhythmic impulse carried its magical essence to her.

Brightness permeated the surroundings, a.s.saulting her vision. She squinted at its intensity and shook off a sense of growing confusion. As though from a great distance, she heard Neveous.

"Go with the flow, Shayla." Ageless humor edged his voice.

She moved forward. Her intention held no hesitation. She bypa.s.sed the Eihwaz rune, waved her hand over the cat glyph, and then stepped directly onto the spiraling rippled stone.

The bottom dropped out of her world. Instinct tried to kick in, however, faith won. A loud splash resounded and she gasped despite the warm water. She laughed and kicked upward as though swimming. "h.e.l.lo, Naias."

"We're always here, Shayla," Naias' voice blended in perfect harmony with Prester's.

"Thanks," Shayla said, raising her arms as she rose to the surface. Emergence from the water, returned her to the maze where Neveous waited.

"The conjoined spirals are water," she said to Neveous without turning around. She reached a hand forward, and held her left palm open over the glyph depicting a cat. "Sheitan," she whispered in a low tone.

Sheitan appeared before her.

"h.e.l.lo, my black angel. It is time."

An angry roar penetrated the maze chamber. In one fluid motion, Shayla stood, facing Syther.

"That's my panther!"

"Shayla! Be careful, he has the Ignis Fatuus!" Meekal yelled, returning just in time to see Syther's arrival.

The Staff of Life, lit brightly in glowing violet, swung around.

Syther ducked and waved his wand. "Scathergal!"

Shayla grunted, wondering why he always used that curse. This time, however, black and green fireb.a.l.l.s flew from the end of the bone wand.

"Ugh!" she yelled, ducking the flames. She hit the stones with a loud crack and a holler. Her wrist broke at impact with the floor. Pain and the resounding echo of snapping bone caused a shuddering groan. She rolled away feeling surprise as Sheitan stepped between her and Syther.

A fierce, primal yowl penetrated the narrow maze, followed by an angry cat hissing. A mysterious blue iridescent bubble began to grow between Sheitan and Syther. At its center, the black and green flames joined into one fireball.

Surprise welled once more, Neveous swung his staff. Her wrist tingled as though with warm air and healed.

"Go," Neveous said calmly, pointing to the next marked stone on the floor.

Syther roared, "No!" Wand at the ready, a limestone white wall appeared, blocking Shayla's descent into the next chamber of her quest.

"Evaporate," she hissed, pointing CIARANLEXISS with intention. The wall dissolved into white dust, vanishing before it touched the stone floor.

"Shayla, look out! He has the Ignis Fatuus lantern. It can suck you into its illusion!"

Shayla rolled and slipped into the next rune portal, falling through the air as though flying. Everything that pa.s.sed her vision recalled memories. One after another, she pa.s.sed scenes of everyday life. She landed solidly, yet invisible in her mother's kitchen.

Tension riddled the atmosphere. Claire Brinawell wiped her hands on a towel and hung it on the rack next to the sink. "Shayla, why to do you think you have to go?"

"Mom, I can't explain it. I'm pulled or compelled. I'll be fine. Honest."

"But across the ocean. On the other side of the world?"

In the memory, Shayla stepped forward and hugged her mother. "We're family. You know I love you. I'll be back."

The sight of her mother's tight embrace around her brought more tears to Shayla's eyes. The warming sensation on her cheeks as they spilled forth expanded her journey further into the past.

Smack!

Shayla moved forward into the scene. Messy black curls hid the face of a tiny victim of physical abuse. "Stop that!" Shayla roared, while acknowledging her magical presence was unknown to the angry woman and frightened child.

"I know you did it!" the woman screeched. Smack!

"No! No, I didn't," the child wailed through sobs of desperate fear.