Azrael's Twins and the Circle of Stone

by Vincent Mortimer

  Niamh did the same on the opposite side to Grady, though she clearly looked as uncomfortable as he did. Behind her Merritt and Grace shuffled along spending a few moments with a chosen few before moving on to the next group.

  Niamh felt her hand was going to fall off before she made it to the end. But her worries were suddenly cast aside by a sense of foreboding that washed over her. She looked up to see the comforting shape of Brighid fly overhead, but despite the presence of the phoenix her feeling of unease persisted. Through a gap in the crowd she saw a black dog pace slowly past, its head swinging round to look at her as it went. It disappeared behind the crowds but when she darted forward to look for it again it had vanished.

  ‘Grady!’ she called, gesturing her brother over to her.

  ‘What?’ he said brusquely.

  ‘The dog! It was there,’ she said, pointing to where she had seen it. The crowd looked to where Niamh had pointed, puzzled at what she had supposedly seen.

  ‘Well there’s nothing now,’ said Grady, putting his hands on the barrier lining the roadside. ‘Are you sure you aren’t seeing things?’

  ‘I know what I saw, Grady,’ said Niamh as she reached forward to shake the hand of a child a few years younger than her.

  The crowd went silent, fading into an inky grey background gloom. Two ancient gnarled hands shot out from the crowd – one latching onto Niamh’s hands as she reached towards the child, and the other locking onto Grady’s wrist. The world spun and the children found themselves in the middle of a stone circle surrounded by an ancient looking forest. Daylight was replaced by a sea of stars in which hung a blood red moon. A cold wind whistled around the stones, though the robes the children wore hung limp.

  The old man Niamh had seen on the flight to town stood directly in front of them. Yellowed teeth smiled out from a wiry beard. The man looked leathered with brown skin stretched taut over high cheekbones. His eyes, though, showed no hint of age. Bright green, almost iridescent, they gave the face a look of veiled power. They seemed to burn deep into Niamh and Grady’s brains as if searching for an answer without needing to ask a question. Beside the old man stood a massive hound. The dog had the most primal look the children had ever seen and they wondered if the dog saw them as anything other than prey.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said the old man. His voice caught the children off guard. While his appearance was wild and scary the voice was the absolute epitome of calm and comfort. ‘Cuchulain here is a Sidhe Hound, but will not, cannot hurt you.’

  The children stared at the hound who gently sat himself down on his haunches. ‘Cuchulain?’ said Grady. ‘That’s our dog’s name!’

  ‘And I am sure your parents never told you why it was a good name for a dog,’ said the old man knowingly. ‘I have little time here so my message is brief. The answers to questions you have not yet asked are in the book. I will not help you find them, though I know the key. Prove yourselves to me. The road to the answers is doubly dangerous so you must get there together. And the answers you need will exact a terminal price. Be prepared.’

  ‘Who … who are you?’ Niamh managed to splutter out.

  The old man smiled. ‘Ask yourself that question and you will find the answer. I know who walks with you.’

  ‘You must tell us,’ said Grady emphatically.

  ‘I must do nothing,’ said the old man absently. He looked around at the standing stones. Each stone in the circle was carved with a different pattern – some in spirals, some with twisted ribbons – but all were worn with age. They seemed to glow with an unworldly light. ‘Remember this place. And be wary,’ he said ominously.

  ‘Why?’ said Niamh. ‘Where are we?’

  The old man relaxed his grip and the children felt the world begin to spin again. The grey gloom began to vanish and the voice of the old man faded as if carried by an ancient wind. ‘Remember…’

  Daylight came crashing back to the children like a wave over a battered rock by the shore. They blinked as their eyes adjusted and the sounds of the crowd returned. Confusion washed over them before their father’s voice jolted them back to reality.

  ‘Niamh. Say hello please. Don’t be rude to the girl.’

  Niamh turned to see a young girl in the crowd who was staring up at her with a look of adoration on her face. Gathering her composure Niamh took the girl’s hand and gave her the most winning smile she could. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked her.

  ‘T ... T … Tara,’ stuttered the child.

  ‘That’s a lovely name,’ said Niamh, bending down to her.

  ‘My parents named me after the circle of stone at the hill of Tara in Ireland,’ she beamed.

  Niamh went white at the mention of the circle. It had to more than a coincidence. A shadow caught her eye as a set of paws appeared behind some bystanders, but when she looked for it again it was gone. Niamh tried to smile back at the girl. ‘Well it certainly is lovely. Nice to meet you, Tara.’

  They moved briskly on but Merritt caught Niamh’s shoulder and made her pause. ‘What happened to you back there?’

  She looked at her father as she sought for a believable answer to give him. Nothing came so she went for what she hoped was an innocent look. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You and Grady … blurred, as if you went out of focus. But it happened to both of you at the same time. Are you okay?’

  Niamh glanced at Grady who still stood nearby, despite the calls from a group of Rookwood Hall dragon racing team fans. Grady said nothing but gave the barest shake of his head to his sister.

  Niamh took a deep breath and stared her father down. ‘We’re fine, Dad. Maybe you need to get your eyes checked.’

  Merritt gave Niamh a knowing look, making it clear that he had a fair idea she was keeping something from him. He held her gaze for an uncomfortable moment. ‘Maybe I do,’ he said quietly.

  Grace took Grady’s hand and lead him towards the other side of the street. She shared a look with Merritt but the humour had gone from his face. Squeezing Grady’s hand she looked up as Brighid swung low over their heads.

  The phoenix looked Grady directly in the eye as she passed. How do they do it? he thought as Grace dragged him to the other side of the street. Do adults have some strange telepathy they use to send suspicious thoughts to each other?

  A lake breeze stirred the flags and buntings and swept up an alley off the main street. An old man stepped out of the shadows after the royal group had passed and smiled to himself. Beside him stood a black hound with the easy bearing of a beast ready to break into a run at a moment’s notice. The two turned and moved quietly up the alley and, as they stepped into a patch of sunlight where it cut between the rooftops, faded gently from view.

  ‘I would like to welcome the Royal Family here to Morrigan’s Lake once again and say how happy we all are to have the Prince and Princess of the Lakelands in Morrigan’s Lake. It has been far too long, Your Majesties, but all good things, and in this case great things, come to those who wait.’

  Niamh and Grady remembered to avoid rolling their eyes at the speaker. The stage they had made their way to after the procession through town raised them well above the heads of the crowd and the royal green colours of the canopy over their heads gave welcome relief from the strengthening sun. The initial drone of the speaker did not bode well for the remainder of the formal part of the day. This was clearly a vampire who liked to hear the sound of his own voice. But then Grady had never heard of a mayor who didn’t enjoy that. Grady was still confused as to how the creature was able to stand the sunlight, but then reminded himself that Avalon was changing his preconceptions about everything, so why not vampires as well. As he looked around the crowd though, he noticed every single vampire – children and parents alike – were wearing dark sunglasses or had unusually dark eyes. And then it came to him – the glasses! They must give them some protection in this bright sunlight! Behind the vampire was a bigger worry for Grady. The speakers who appeared to be lined up ready to come forwar
d after this self-important bloodsucker looked even more dull, if that were possible. He leaned forward to see if Niamh was feeling the same way. Though he was at the far end of the dais that had been set up to accommodate the family, he could see the look of ennui had already settled over her eyes.

  ‘Would you like to talk to her?’ came a voice in Grady’s head.

  Grady sat bolt upright. ‘Hep?’

  ‘Of course. What other voices do you expect to have in your head? Are there others in here I should be worried about?’

  ‘How can I talk to her from here? I need to be able to touch her to share my thoughts.’

  ‘Not anymore!’ said the voice, laughing. ‘My sister and I can share whatever you need your sister to hear.’

  Grady sat back in his chair and considered what he was hearing. The drone of the vampire continued unabated and the oily compliments being paid did little to make Grady believe that the speech would end any time soon. His parents and grandparents were clearly unaware there were any ethereal conversations being held.

  ‘Tell her not to react but if she can hear this to lean forward a little and scratch her nose.’

  ‘That’s a very boring message.’

  ‘Do it,’ ordered Grady.

  He turned to look at his sister. It was obvious when Persephone passed the message on. Niamh’s eyes widened and she turned to look at Grady, leaning forward and scratching the tip of her nose. This earned a silent rebuke from her mother who gave her the hairy eyeball for not sitting up as primly as she had been instructed to do.

  ‘Persephone says that Niamh wants you to stop doing that. She says it’s bad enough trying to concentrate on staying awake and you’re distracting her.’

  Grady chuckled to himself, which earned him his own hairy eyeball from his father. He sat back and wiped the smirk from his face and tried to think. This opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

  ‘Do I have to ask you to send all my thoughts to her?’

  ‘No,’ said Hep. ‘I can … step out of the process if you like. Persephone can do the same. We can let you share your thoughts directly. But the process might be a little … unsettling.’

  ‘What do you mean, unsettling?’

  ‘If we create this link you can never go back. The link will do more than just let you share thoughts. If Niamh feels pain then you will too. What she sees you can see too. If she chooses to share it with you, that is. There are ways of blocking out the feelings you will need to learn. But we can help with that.’

  Grady’s eyes widened at the prospect. The sounds of the crowd fluttered around his ears and the speeches continued unabated. But none of it touched him. He leaned forward again to see Niamh. His sister had a far-off look of intense concentration. She glanced in his direction and even though, at this stage, he could not read her thoughts he knew Persephone had made her the same offer. She stared at her brother as she considered it before shaking her head. ‘Not yet then,’ he thought to himself, and to Hep.

  ‘Very well,’ came the reply. ‘Tell us when you are ready and Persephone and I will make it happen. Good bye … for now,’ said the voice, fading to a whisper.

  Niamh saw Grady sit back with a look of relief on his face. The offer from Persephone had rattled her. It might be useful at some point but she and Grady were not ready for it. Not yet. She found herself getting lost in her own blessedly singular thoughts before a voice dragged her back to reality.

  ‘What?’ she said, sounding confused.

  The crowd around her laughed. Her mother took her wrist gently. ‘The mayor was asking if you would take part in the spell casting competition. It’s open to all entrants but there hasn’t been a royal competitor for some time.’

  ‘Your reputation at Rookwood has been heard even here in our humble town,’ said the oily voice of the mayor. He grinned, showing an evil set of incisors that glinted in the daylight. ‘And please, call me Vlad.’

  Grady snorted back a laugh which gained him another hairy eyeball from his father. ‘Don’t be so rude,’ cautioned Merritt.

  ‘Vlad? Seriously?’ whispered Grady. ‘It’s like a name from a bad cartoon story.’

  Niamh and Vlad appeared to ignore Grady’s comment. ‘But… how could you know? I’m not even in the team.’

  ‘It isn’t necessary to be in the school team to develop a reputation. There are many eyes who recognise talent when they see it,’ said Vlad, glancing to the side of the dais. Ms Maladicta and Ms Pussywillow stood smiling serenely. Beside them sat an unusually large Irish Setter with a look of vacant bliss on its face. Niamh recognised Vynda in an instant and wondered why she had chosen to shift into her werewolf – or more correctly, weresetter form today.

  ‘But I haven’t brought any gloves or anything,’ said Niamh, a little unsettled by the turn of events.

  ‘We have everything you need,’ said Ms Pussywillow.

  ‘This is one of those occasions when it might pay to give in to serendipity,’ said her mother, leaning down to whisper in her ear. ‘If the event presents itself, and you are ready to take advantage of it, then go with the flow. The universe rarely throws curve balls at you without giving you the means to hit them out of the park.’

  Niamh composed herself. Right then. Best princess face on. She stood up and faced Vlad. ‘I would love to. Thank you for your kind offer,’ she said, with a slight tilt of her head and the best princess smile she could muster.

  The vampire bowed obsequiously in return. ‘Your Royal Highness is too kind,’ he said. ‘Please, take your seat and once we have completed our other welcomes we will move on to the competition.’

  ‘Well done,’ whispered her mother as Niamh sat down. The crowd cheered and clapped in the background.

  ‘Yeah. Very noble,’ said Grady sarcastically.

  Niamh, for once, did not rise to the bait.

  Chapter 8

  Face Off

  The crowd flowed towards the common after the speeches and official welcome came, eventually, to an end.

  Niamh was ushered through the throng into a large tent, the way ahead of them cleared by the castle guards. As she walked beside Ms Pussywillow with Ms Maladicta in front the crowd clapped politely with the odd “Good Luck” and “You can do it” thrown in.

  ‘Who am I competing against?’ Niamh said to Ms Pussywillow before smiling politely at another well-wisher.

  ‘Mostly the spell casters from the other schools that have come down for the festival. We have Aurelia and Karalina here from Rookwood. And Flamville have their top spell casters – Hegeline Baskerville and Gillian O’Rourke along with one of their up and coming spell casters. They like to try out new talent, just like we do.’

  Ms Maladicta swept into the tent where Niamh found her two spell casting team mates, along with a change of clothes.

  ‘How did you know I would need these today?’ said Niamh, before realisation dawned on her face. ‘I’ve been set up, haven’t I?’

  Ms Maladicta smiled. ‘It was too good an opportunity to pass up. I had a quiet chat with Vlad before we came down here.’

  ‘And whose place have I taken?’ said Niamh.

  ‘No one’s,’ said Ms Maladicta calmly.

  ‘You were planning this even before we left the Dragon’s Lair. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Time to ponder is time to worry,’ said Ms Pussywillow enigmatically.

  ‘Well I wasn’t worried until you mentioned it,’ said Niamh, stepping behind a screen to change. ‘Ugggh,’ she said irritably as she tried to tug the royal robes from her shoulders. ‘Grady was right. This outfit is ridiculous!’

  ‘Having trouble in there?’ said Aurelia.

  ‘A little,’ said Niamh from underneath the dress which was now scrunched over her head.

  Aurelia clapped her hands and a quartet of faeries appeared before her. ‘Please give the Princess Niamh some help to get changed.’

  The faeries zipped behind the screen. Niamh let out a squeal as they removed the laces and
catches that had snagged themselves around her. She emerged from under the clothing and blinked at the servants. ‘Thank you,’ she managed to say, remembering the faeries’ formality and strict adherence to manners. She changed and found the sleek finely cut clothing fitted like a glove. She admired herself in the mirror before rummaging through her discarded robes and pulling out her wands. She always carried the iWand, but the feel of Fitzhollow’s Blackthorn creation in her hand felt more and more like an extension of her arm.

  ‘Ready in there?’ called Ms Maladicta.

  Niamh stepped out from behind the screen. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Very fetching,’ said Ms Maladicta. ‘But you can spend time admiring your wardrobe later. The crowd is waiting.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Aurelia. ‘This is just for fun today ... though the Flamville girls might not see it that way. The Titania College and Sandune College spell casters are here to have an early season hit out. But keep your eye on Hegeline. She’s a nasty one. You know her brother is Reg at Rookwood?’

  ‘What!’ said Niamh with a look of shock on her face. ‘Then why is she at Flamville?’

  ‘Well even her parents know she’s got a nasty streak in her. She once tried to see if her brother would fit in an oven. She heard one of her ancestors was the original witch in the forest that tried to eat some children in a story. She thought she could practise the trick on her brother but her mother caught her before the oven became too hot. Reg has been a little scared of her since then and her parents felt it was better to keep them separated at different schools than risk leaving her alone with him and ending up with a case of fratricide.’

  ‘And you’re letting me compete against her?’ said Niamh incredulously.