Concentric Circles (32 page)

An old man puttered toward her. Bent forward and leaning heavily on a carved wooden staff, he moved with slow shaky steps. The heel of his shoes seemed determined to slow him even more as he made his way toward her hiding place. The closer he got, the larger the goose flesh on her arms. Tiny prickly bumps grew to the size of mosquito bites, adding an itching sensation. She shuddered and stepped back from his path.

He stopped.

Shock pulled at her as a grey balding head lifted, revealing blue eyes sharp as a steel blade. She could not breathe as he held her gaze, even in her hidden state.

After long silent moments, he nodded in slow motion. “Follow me,” he whispered, his finger appeared against his lips indicating silence was necessary.

Didn’t I just make that motion? To a portrait?

Meekal’s breathing quickened. “Turn right, Shay.”

A low cackle emanated from the old fellow.

She froze, trying to decide if she had finally lost her mind. The old man, moving in slow motion anyway, failed to stop and continued moving straight through her. A shiver curled her toes. “You told me to stay away from the walls. There’s nothing there but stones.”

“Just trust me. Turn right.”

Old blue eyes cackled some more, this time leaning heavily on his staff. The head of a carved lion lined up with those piercing orbs, holding her tightly in a double steady gaze. She frowned at him through her guise of hidden space. “You can see me?”

A weathered old dimple appeared in his right cheek.

“Who are you?”

He shrugged, his thin shoulder raising the old fabric of his jacket in a barely imperceptible move. “The lad wants ye to enter the maze wing,” he answered, not replying to her question. “Although fraught with the unknown, it is the shortest distance to the shadow’s heart.”

She stared at the wall, apprehension fisting in her belly.

“Shayla,” Meekal said, his voice growing in strength once more.

She raised a palm close to the wall, feeling its energy. “It’s like you’re right in front of me.”

“I’m close by. I can guide you through the maze. It isn’t really that bad. I’m more worried about the fact that you shouldn’t come into the chamber under the stairs yourself.”

“How can I get to you then?”

“The web of power.”

“The web of power?”

“The web of power is the common spirit of all things. Everything is connected. Magic is just one element of that connection.”

“But if I can’t get through to you.”

Warmth resonated from her boot. “
N
EVEOUS CAN ASSIST YE
.”

She reached down and pulled C
IARAN
L
EXISS
out, his heat comforting her. “Who’s Neveous?”

The old man laughed. His scratchy cackling filled the corridor. “I am Neveous.” He tipped his gnarled head at the
sgian dhu
. “Your friend is wise. Come along. Stay in your shelter. It is best no one sees you.”

She pushed aside her surprise and thoughts on how he heard C
IARAN
L
EXISS
. “What about you?” she asked, glancing furtively toward the end of the corridor.

The staff moved from one hand to the other, its lion head grinning at her with fiendish, gargoyle delight. “It is believed that I am te’ched.” He pointed a crooked finger at his temple, shaking with humor. Without further comment, he stepped through the stones.

She stared at the wall. The old man’s disappearance into the timelessness etched itself into her memory. The stone wall, exposed between two oversized portraits, gave the impression of a doorway to unknown disaster.

Magic required unabashed confidence and intention. At the moment, everything concerning magical happenings shook Shayla to her basic foundations.

“Shay.” Meekal’s voice registered encouragement.

Steadfast warmth emanated from her palm. “
Y
E WILL BE FINE
.”

A head popped back through. “Coming?”

Heart racing, she followed.

[20] Through the Stones

The sensation of squeezing paused her progress, and then a quick shove on her back propelled Shayla through the wall. She gasped as her feet tried to untangle without stumbling and she turned to glare at the wall. “Why’d you do that?”

“The first step is always the hardest. I’ve always wanted to say that,” Meekal laughed.

“Pfft.”

“It has to do with Black Bryan. He didn’t want to go to Glastonbury. Anyway, welcome to the maze.”

“You do realize I’m here to rescue you. Be nice, love.”

“Always.”

“Right.”

The old man, feet planted firmly, gazed at her with ageless confidence. Just past his shoulder, a sign glistened in flickering torchlight from a lurid green flame.

‘No Outlet.’

She shivered and pulled her eyes away to inspect the semi-dark surroundings. The green torches gave only the appearance of no light—its expected opposite. “Wicked magic.” Her motion set the sign into action. On the edge of her peripheral vision, Shayla witnessed the letter O opening up and a monstrous tentacle reaching toward her. She jumped back in reflex, crying out in surprise.

Neveous, moving quicker than imaginable, blocked her from the wall with his staff.

“Shay! Are you alright?” Meekal’s voice rushed forward, the sound of his voice bounced off the stones.

Heart pounding, she swiveled her head and stared at the sign. Its letter returned to normal and in perfect order. A juddering sigh escaped her lungs. “Bloody hell.” She stiffened her spine and looked around the narrow, bare corridor.

Torches bracketed in the walls with rusty iron worked corbels contained low putrid green flames. There was a disdainful odorous scent She crinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”

“Incense of bat guano,” Neveous said, winking.

“Euew!”

C
IARAN
L
EXISS
chuckled. “‘
T
IS MEANT TO BE A DETERRENT
.”

“Be grateful you can’t smell it,” Shayla retorted, waving a hand before her nose. She could have reached out with both hands and touched the walls of the narrow corridor. That is if she wanted to. Something resembling mold grew and snaked in the stone joints. “Which way?”

“Straight ahead.”

C
IARAN
L
EXISS
’ Scottish brogue warned her. “
S
EE THE STONES BENEATH YER FEET
!”

She frowned, looking down. Realizing just how gloomy and suffocating the air in the maze was, only instilled determination. “We need more light. Something not green.”

Neveous held his staff off the ground and made a quick circle in the air. Balls of flickering flames flew out of the lion’s wide grin.

Shayla gasped as the lights brightened the narrow chamber, floor to ceiling.

He gave her a crooked smile. “The Staff of Life has the power to bestow life or take it away. In this case, it will light our journey.”

She squinted, everything now brighter. “Will they stay lit?”

Even C
IARAN
L
EXISS
chuckled. She growled and clutched him tightly, his carvings imprinting her hand. Despite the sense of him trying to wiggle free, she insisted, “I asked because the air seems so thin in here. Kal, do you have enough oxygen?”

“Aye. I’m fine. The lights are magical, Shay.” He paused to chortle. “Neveous do you think she should come out of hiding?”

“
W
ATCH OUT
!”

Shayla froze. Her foot stopped before touching the next stone in the floor. Still in mid-step, she studied the markings etched in black that had appeared without warning. Runes. “Damn. I don’t know anything about runes.”

She allowed her gaze to follow their path in front of her. Twenty feet of unknown hazard gleamed eerily in the light. She moved backward, distancing herself from the roadblock.

“Shayla,” Neveous said firmly. “You must come out of hiding. The magic of skirr will not blend well with runes.”

She moved even further backward and paused to take a deep breath. After releasing it, she spun her hand opposite the direction from her original motion. She stepped out to a sudden chill. Goosebumps spread across her skin. “Why? And why is it so cold?”

Neveous pointed the staff end at the floor with easy casualness. “The very first stone you almost stepped on is
Eihwaz
. It is a defensive rune with avertive powers. Making the maze so cold is simply another deterrent.”

She fought off the frigid sensation and leaned down, frowning. “Avertive?”

“Aye,” Meekal answered.

The rune carving would have been lightning bolt shaped except that the line connecting the two branching off marks was twice their length. A perfect circle enclosed the mark in a carved triangular stone.

“While it is a rune that you could use to your advantage, I believe its location, here at the entrance beginning, is meant to be an obstacle in your path. Avertive—prevent something from happening.”

“Well, I guess if I knew runes, I’d say that makes sense.” She straightened and looked at the other stones. Not so much a hopscotch, some were marked with runes, others, glyphs most likely Pictish in origin.

“Some of the glyphs are Pictish,” Meekal said.

“Mind invasion, but thanks,” she said wryly.

“Those you must avoid completely. While there is study and speculation about them, scholars interpret them individually. Even in Brenna’s day, there was disagreement. I’ve learned much from the walls. However, my knowledge doesn’t extend to Syther’s runic interpretations. Thus the need for caution.”

“What if I just wind-ride over them?”

“Shayla, you’ve asked that before.” Meekal reminded her. “Skirting the issue of magic by flying over or through it doesn’t work. Even though we use magic, there is no simple way through a magical barrier. Magic requires thought and intention in order to work toward the needed outcome.”

“I guess you’re right. I always have to ask though because someday that’ll be your answer.” She knelt and passed fingertips just above the carved stone, close enough to feel its energy while not coming into contact.

“Ah, my child,” Neveous said. “You must face the runes. To do so, strengthens you in power against your enemy.”

She puckered her brows and rose.

The corner of his mouth tucked in. “Each rune stone you defeat weakens Syther. That’s also the downside of the runes presence. He will know you are here by your very action of entrance within their powerbase.”

“But how do I get past them if it’s black magic?”

“Shayla,” Meekal said. “Magic doesn’t work that way. Magic is neutral. Intent is what bears essence of white or black. Syther’s intent is to stop you. He may already know you are here. Perhaps I should go see.”

“Aye,” Neveous said in agreement. “Perhaps that would be a good idea, lad. Patience, perseverance and foresight are what Shayla needs in this situation. She must go within herself to answer her questions. C
IARAN
L
EXISS
and I will be here to protect her.”

“All right, if you’re sure.”

“I’ll be fine. Go on.”

There was a pregnant silence between them. “Shay.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered. A soft sigh passed over her, tickling her hair and ear. She knew it came from him, and then Meekal’s voice began to move away.

“I’ll be back soon.”

[21] Stone Pawns

Meekal paused in his progress through the stones to survey the grand entrance of the castle. Accustomed to being within the walls by this point, he leaned against the interior of a corbel archway. The great hall spanned ten meters, graced with woven antique rugs, suits of armor and faded once colorful tapestries. To his right, gargoyles held up an oversized oval mirror.

The staircase, under which his prison resided, swept upward to the reaches of higher floors where it split off into two dominating risers. “Exquisite. Too bad darkness suppresses you,” he murmured to the stones around him. “We’ll free you.” In experiment, he pushed a hand outward.

Still he could not escape. “I thought you were my friend,” he said, jokingly.

A breath of air passed over his face in caress.

He grunted. “Prodigal son? Very curious. How do you figure?”

“All returns to its beginnings.”

“Humph.”

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 passed 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.”