Azrael's Twins and the Circle of Stone

by Vincent Mortimer

  Niamh stiffened at the witch’s suggestion but was sure Azrael would not allow it. Her certainty, though, was sickeningly blown away.

  ‘As you wish,’ said Azrael quietly. To their right Grace struggled against the spell that bound her but was powerless to do anything about the bargaining between the witch and the wizard.

  Niamh spun around, slapping the wizard’s hands from her shoulder. ‘What are you talking about!’ she said angrily. ‘I’m not going anywhere with her!’

  Grady stood open-mouthed at the ease with which Azrael had begun to trade the children’s safety. ‘Is this why you brought us here tonight! To give us away to your … your … whatever she is,’ he said, spluttering his words in anger. As he did so he felt a vibration in his pocket which caused him to hold his tirade against Azrael. He slipped his hand into his pocket and grasped the speaking stone Modron had given him. Immediately the troll’s voice sounded loud and clear inside his head.

  ‘You must trust him. Things are not what they seem …’

  Grady tried to hide his surprise but looked sideways at Modron. Was she with them or not? No one appeared to be what they were tonight. Deep down a feeling rose within him that made him sure there was only one course of action. He stepped closer to Niamh and grasped her hand.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said while keeping his eyes firmly on the Morrigan. ‘I think this is going to work out.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ said Niamh uncertainly.

  ‘I can’t. I know this wasn’t our plan but I think we need to go with it.’

  ‘I hate it when you improvise.’

  Grady let go of Niamh’s hand as she stepped towards the witch. ‘Alright then. If you think you can give us this special gift then I’m willing to see what it is. But Grady stays here. And release Mum.’

  The Morrigan laughed again. ‘You are not in a position to bargain. But … very well. As a sign of my good faith. There is one proviso.’ The witch flicked her wand towards Grace and sent her falling to the ground. At the same time Grace’s wand flew across the clearing and was snatched from the air by the Morrigan. ‘No point leaving you with any tempting ideas of getting in the way, is there Grace.’

  ‘You will suffer for this,’ said Grace, struggling to her feet.

  ‘I know more about suffering than you could imagine,’ said the Morrigan coldly as she waltzed back to Niamh. ‘Come now child,’ she said, taking her gently by the hand. ‘Let me show you the wonders of the circle.’

  Niamh was led towards a gap between the stones. ‘All you need to do is step through.’

  ‘I wish I could trust you,’ said Niamh quietly.

  ‘I’ve given you no reason not to, have I?’ said the Morrigan.

  ‘You mean other than the fact you threatened to kill my mother and you’ve been stealing bodies for centuries to stay alive?’

  ‘Oh Niamh. You still don’t understand that mercy is for the weak, do you?’

  ‘My mother told me what that really means. And I don’t think it’s what you think it is.’

  ‘Yes, well, your mother and I always disagreed about that, but she can tell you about it another day.’

  Niamh was taken aback. ‘What do you know of my mother?’

  The Morrigan gave a thin-lipped smile in return. ‘Enough. Now enter that circle.’ The witch gave Niamh a sharp push on the back and propelled her beyond the stones.

  Niamh felt the ground change under her feet, the firm turf outside the circle softening within. As she walked towards the centre of the circle she glanced at Modron, who gave her a barely perceptible nod of the head. The troll stood silently at the plinth, her hands on the stone spire.

  Abruptly the atmosphere within the circle changed. The stone spire began to pulse and the circle began to blur. Niamh turned back towards her mother, Azrael and Grady and saw their forms begin to fade. All outside the circle became indistinct. All except the Morrigan. The face she had worn only moments before dropped away and Niamh saw clearly the beautiful woman from a thousand years past. The blood red dress was the same, and the murder in her eyes was every bit as clear.

  ‘Now,’ said the witch. ‘We can talk. It is time for you to give me something in return for my teachings.’

  ‘What can I give you?’ said Niamh, backing away. ‘I have nothing!’

  ‘Oh, but you do my dear. You can give me the Twin that lives within you. I know who you are and what you are. And while we are in this circle I can strip the Twin from you more easily than you can imagine. I can give you back the gift of your own solitude. Welcome to your future, my dear. And trust me, you won’t feel a thing …’

  The shoreline of Morrigan’s Lake was alive with light as the festival of Lughnasadh reached its finale. The full moon was about to rise over the peaks at the far end of the lake marking the moment the fireworks would begin at the lake edge. But the stream of figures hurtling from the castle towards Morrigan’s Daughter showed that not all eyes were turned to the celebrations.

  Merritt, Murdock and a host of others flew swiftly towards the peak that marked the route to the circle of stone. Above them all flew the iridescent form of Brighid, now showing her full glory and making no attempt to hide. Their grim faces told a tale of focused fear as the miles dropped away below them. Eventually they crested the hill and plunged down towards the clearing and the figures highlighted by an unearthly glow around the stones.

  Inside the circle Niamh stood facing the Morrigan. Merritt saw the fear in his wife’s face as he landed close by but Grace, mysteriously, held her hand up in warning to him. She grabbed Grady to stop him running towards his father.

  ‘Hey!’ said Grady to his mother. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Stay here,’ Grace whispered. ‘Your life, and your sister’s life, depends on it.’

  ‘Surround the circle,’ shouted Murdock to the accompanying guards as they landed. ‘Don’t let that witch out of there!’

  Merritt stopped at the edge of the clearing as a sense of dread and certainty swept over him. ‘We can’t go in there,’ he said quietly to Murdock.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Murdock, drawing his wand. ‘We can’t wait!’ The elf ran headlong towards the circle but found himself bouncing painfully off an invisible barrier only metres away.

  ‘What in Avalon was that?’ said Roland as he leapt from his dragon mount.

  ‘That is why we could not find the Morrigan,’ said Brighid, looking with wonder towards the invisible barrier. ‘I cannot sense any life inside the circle. Can you?’

  Murdock picked himself up from the ground, holding his head painfully. ‘No,’ he said. ‘If I couldn’t see the children and Grace I would swear it’s a dead zone.’

  Another dragon landed heavily beside the group. McHavering swung himself off and lifted his goggles. ‘I’m guessing the way ye boonced back that time, ye’ll nae get in there t’night.’

  Murdock rubbed at a red welt forming on his forehead. ‘No. She’s more powerful than we thought.’

  McHavering looked thoughtful before turning to the brutish looking dragon on which he had ridden. The beast swivelled its glowing yellow eyes towards him. ‘See what ye can do.’

  The dragon smiled and unleashed a torrent of red and gold fire towards the circle. The blast cut between Murdock and Roland before smashing into the barrier with an explosive boom. But it had no effect. The flames spread up and out as they hit the barrier, gliding across its surface like a slick oil fire before winking out.

  ‘Moron!’ screamed Roland as he patted down smoking hair and clothes. The dragon’s blast had passed perilously close to where he had been standing. ‘You did that deliberately!’

  ‘Haud yer wheest,’ said McHavering dismissively. ‘Ye know well that Edith here has better aim than any other beastie in the stables. Ye’d have been toasted, Ruffleneck, if she’d wanted.’

  ‘Hold the arguments for later,’ said Merritt. ‘I don’t think there is anything we can do. But whatever happens, that witch is not l
eaving the circle here tonight.’

  A chorus of roars sounded above the circle. Four mountain vipers, led by Iris, swooped down and landed with a ground shaking thump. Iris landed closest to Roland and McHavering. The two other dragons melted under the stare of the viper and backed slowly away into the shadows. Iris swung her head left and right giving each of the dragon masters a knowing look before settling close to Merritt. The other vipers took up a patient stance, staring intently at the figures inside the circle, but mostly at the witch advancing towards Niamh.

  ‘Aye. I think ye must be right. The beasties know we need to wait things oot. But be ready. We willnae get but one shot at this.’

  Chapter 26

  Legends

  Niamh backed away from the advancing, menacing Morrigan. Running, she knew, was not an option. And there was no chance Grady could enter the circle now. There was only one hope left for her. One angry hope.

  ‘Why do you need the Twins?’ she said, trying to muster as much courage as she could.

  The Morrigan sneered. ‘How would you like to be trapped with no hope of escape. How would you like to have lived across a time span you could not comprehend, stealing the life energy of those stupid enough to trust you.’

  ‘How many people have you killed in a thousand years?’ said Niamh coldly. But in her heart she knew the Morrigan was right about one thing. The idea of having to wear so many different faces, and never your own, must have been a living nightmare.

  ‘How many have I killed?’ said the witch, continuing to advance. ‘You’re mistaken about that. Yes, I’ve used many bodies, some willingly given over. Others not. But once taken I’ve never killed anyone. Those bodies have died on their own. Or as a result of someone else casting an evil spell. I would hardly go around destroying my only hope of survival, now would I!’

  Niamh was soon going to have her back against one of the stones; she needed to keep the witch talking for as long as she could. ‘Then what good will killing me do? If you take my Twin from me then you’ll still have to face Grady.’

  The Morrigan laughed again. Niamh fancied the laughter was becoming more insane with each cackle. ‘You don’t understand the nature of the Twins at all. All it takes is the will of one Twin to allow me to take the power of the other. Your brother will be no match for me and once I have the power of both I can leave this world and take hold of the power of your home and Avalon.’

  ‘And once you have that?’

  ‘Then I can reverse the spells that bind me and bring myself back from the dead! And with the power of the Twins within me I will be more powerful than any sorceress ever seen or ever to be seen!’

  Niamh cringed at the fury of the words the Morrigan spat at her. They seemed to reverberate around the circle and bounce around the inside of her head. As they did so they were joined by another voice.

  ‘She is mad, you know. The bodies she used may be gone but all the memories of a thousand years are still rattling around inside that head of hers.’

  Niamh was relieved to hear the return of Persephone. ‘You’re back! Can you help?’ said Niamh desperately. ‘We are just about out of time!’

  ‘Not yet. But when the time comes I will be there.’

  The Morrigan turned her face towards the rising moon which shone not with a silver light tonight, but a deep red glow.

  ‘What is that?’ said Niamh.

  ‘A blood moon. A rare and beautiful thing to me.’ The red light bathed the Morrigan’s face, painting it with an unearthly hue. Her hair began to take on the red glow and sparkle with an eerie nimbus of light. When the witch looked back at Niamh her eyes too had turned a glowing malevolent crimson. ‘I would be strong tonight even without the blood moon. But with it there is nothing left on this earth that can best me. Time to repay all our debts,’ she said confidently to Modron. ‘Open the portal!’

  Modron inclined her head in slight acknowledgement.

  ‘You don’t have to do this!’ said Niamh desperately. ‘You don’t have to listen to her!’

  ‘I am sorry,’ said the troll. ‘But old debts must always be repaid. I am bound in this as we were a thousand years past. Do not worry. It will all be over soon.’

  Niamh blinked as Modron spoke. She was certain a flash of light came from one of her eyes that, in a human, might be considered a wink. Nevertheless, energy began to weave its way into the stones, and the sky above began to change.

  The Morrigan put her hand out towards Niamh. ‘And I will have that wand of yours while our friend here prepares things for me.’

  Niamh was gripping her wand so tightly that the pattern on the handle was leaving an imprint on her palm. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, as confidently as she could. ‘It won’t work for you anyway. It’s a Fitzhollow and Hooligan. It was made to work only for me.’

  ‘I taught those idiots half of what they pretend to know,’ snapped the Morrigan. ‘Do you think I couldn’t make it work if I wanted to? But I don’t want you trying anything brave while I finish what must be finished tonight.’ With a flourish of her hand the wand flew from Niamh’s grasp and across the short space between them. The Morrigan snatched it out of the air but cried out in pain as she did so. The wand seared the flesh and blood began to seep from the scar on her cheek – the scar Niamh had given her. The witch fell to her knees and dropped her own wand. The barrier around the circle wavered but before any of the watchers outside it could react, it snapped back into place.

  The Morrigan regathered herself and stood up. ‘No wonder this scar could never be healed. The wand that made it did not exist until Fitzhollow made it for you.’ The witch turned to Azrael, who looked even more frail at the side of the circle than he had before. ‘I should not be surprised you arranged that this one should hurt me in that way. Betrayal has been your constant companion.’

  Niamh sprang to the wizard’s defence. ‘He is a great wizard! He wouldn’t take the lives of others to keep himself alive!’

  ‘You think so?’ said the Morrigan, dabbing away more tears of blood that ran down her cheek. ‘You should find out more about the company you keep.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Niamh, confused.

  ‘You will have to die wondering,’ said the Morrigan coldly.

  Around them the stones pulsed and slowly ground their way across the earth, though no trace of a furrow was left. A glow began to form over the circle, spiralling slowly towards the darkened sky.

  Niamh knew she was out of time. But if she could not stop the circle being opened she at least might be able to appeal to the Morrigan’s vanity and buy a few more seconds. ‘At least let me fix that for you,’ said Niamh. ‘You’ll carry the scar with you unless my wand heals it.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’ said the Morrigan. ‘It won’t help you.’

  ‘I know that,’ said Niamh. ‘But let me do this. My wand gave it to you. I’m guessing only my wand can fix it.’

  The Morrigan looked confused, but used her own wand to flick Niamh’s wand towards her. ‘Alright. But quickly.’

  Niamh picked the wand up and called to Persephone. ‘Think you can help me with this?’

  ‘You are a strange one. But yes. Let me guide you.’

  Niamh felt Persephone start to manage the flows of power as they drifted through the wand. The tip glowed and a fluid golden thread weaved its way towards the scar. The Morrigan flinched as the thread touched the scar but the glow soaked its way into the wound and sutured the edges together. A red welt formed where scar tissue evaporated and in moments all that was left was a rosy line of new skin. Niamh pointed the wand towards the Morrigan’s hand and did the same to the burnt flesh in the palm. In seconds the Morrigan was flexing her fingers as if nothing had ever happened.

  ‘What is she doing!’ yelled Merritt to no one in particular.

  Brighid smiled. ‘Buying time, I think. She is a clever one.’

  ‘Time?’ said Merritt angrily. ‘We don’t have time! She doesn’t have time!’

&nb
sp; ‘A matter of seconds is all that separates great events from disasters. I think your daughter understands this, so trust that she knows what she is doing. She has worked out that the witch is vain. A little goodwill – even if it will all be dispensed with – will do her no harm. And she also has her wand back …’

  The Morrigan cast a charm with a flick of her wand and a silvered panel appeared in the air close by. She turned to look at her reflection and ran her fingertips over the smooth skin where the scar had been.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. The mirror vanished and the Morrigan stepped closer to Niamh. She reached out and touched Niamh’s hair with a caress bordering on tender. ‘I will make this quick for you.’

  The Morrigan raised her wand and traced the tip across Niamh’s cheek. She held Niamh’s eyes as she backed slowly away to the centre of the circle and raised one hand skyward as if wrapping her hand around an invisible rope. A red flash from each of the stones leapt towards the outstretched hand and wrapped the witch in a coruscating gown of crimson red.

  Grace stood watching, with Grady held closely to her. She turned to Azrael, a pleading look in her eyes. ‘If there is anything you can do, please do it!’

  Azrael shook his head. ‘This is beyond me now. But do not give up hope; your children are nothing if not resourceful. Do you have your wand, Grady?’

  Grady held up his wand and twiddled it along his fingers. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good. Keep it close. I do not know what might happen here but remember one thing. It is not for you or your sister to harm the witch. Do you understand?’

  ‘What!’ yelled Grady, pushing himself away from Grace. ‘Niamh’s in trouble in there and you want me to just stand by and let it happen?’

  ‘Listen more closely,’ said Azrael sternly. ‘I didn’t say anything about standing by. When the time comes you will know what to do. But do not raise your wand against the witch until then. Now stand ready and show me that you are the wizard we think you can be.’

  Grady felt Azrael’s words wash over him and a new-found strength rose from within. He turned to look at the frenetic scene inside the circle – Niamh back against one of the stones, the Morrigan drawing power from the maelstrom above, the blood moon overhead, and the circle of friends outside the barrier. He didn’t know what Azrael meant, but he knew when the moment came he would be ready. An urgent voice sounded in his ears. ‘Fear not. They are here.’