Azrael's Twins and the Circle of Stone

by Vincent Mortimer

  Niamh felt the power of the Morrigan start to draw close. Something began to slip under her skin, a faint feeling at first and then a stronger physical sensation of being pulled and stretched. It was as if the energy that bound her to the earth was being stripped from her cells.

  The Morrigan stared at Niamh with increasingly unearthly features. ‘Don’t struggle. Not much longer now.’

  Niamh turned her head to one side and saw the figure of Persephone begin to form like some ghostly apparition being drawn from her body. But the girl did not look panicked. If anything she seemed relaxed. Her lips began to form words that echoed around Niamh’s head; ‘Fear not. They are here.’ Niamh had no idea what that meant, but she did not have long to wait for an answer.

  The slow grinding of the stones stopped with a shuddering boom. The energy flow surging from the centre of the circle to the Morrigan was cut with a brutal suddenness.

  The scream from the Morrigan as she fell to the ground was that of a wounded animal. She turned a malice-filled eye towards Modron who stood impassively at the spire. But her hands no longer grasped the crystal. They sat clasped serenely in front of her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ screeched the witch, climbing unsteadily to her feet. ‘We had a bargain. You have debts to repay.’

  Modron seemed to glow with a ruby light that was less a reflection of the moon, more some internal fire that made her seem less childlike and more mysterious.

  ‘We did have a bargain. You made yours with my people, and with me, a thousand years ago. But while we stayed true to ours, you broke yours. You were the cause of ruin and murder of humans and elves and other folk who stood against you, but also of my people that stood with you. Yes, debts must be paid. And tonight my people and I are putting right a wrong that could not be done before now!’

  Modron grasped the spire again and the circle began to turn once more – but now in the opposite direction and for just a few feet this time. Niamh saw clearly through the gaps in the stones. A view down a valley that led to a moonlit harbour. She knew instantly it was home. But before she could see more, shadows replaced the view. Large winged shapes began to surge forward. Twelve hulking figures with gold, red and brown plumage spilled through gaps and into the circle. Broad wings unfolded as the creatures swept into the air and plunged towards the witch.

  ‘The gryphons!’ cried Niamh.

  ‘The Children of Lir have returned,’ whispered Grace.

  Grady leapt into the air as the creatures poured into the circle. ‘It worked!’ he shouted, punching the air.

  ‘You did this?’ said Grace, confused.

  ‘I saw something when I was in the circle with the Morrigan once before. I guessed it was them and where they had gone when they left the Dragon’s Lair. Fingal gave it away when he said there were other creatures in the space between worlds.’

  ‘What?’ said Grace. ‘You were in the circle before?’

  ‘Later, Mum!’ said Grady. ‘Just get ready. Niamh is going to need us any second!’

  A bellow arose from the dragons, pawing impatiently outside the circle as the gryphons appeared. Iris was the only one of the vipers that stood quietly, but bunched muscles moving under her skin showed she was ready to spring.

  ‘There’s something you dinnae see, or hear, every day,’ said McHavering.

  ‘You do like understatement,’ said Murdock quietly.

  ‘We’ve got to get in there!’ shouted Merritt. ‘The witch is down!’

  ‘She might be, but the shield isn’t,’ said Roland, casting a weak hex which bounced harmlessly off the invisible barrier.

  ‘Not yet,’ said Murdock, fingering his wand with impatience.

  Brighid’s voice rang out loudly around the clearing. ‘No one is to touch the Morrigan. Her fate is not to be sealed by any of us here!’

  ‘This isn’t what we planned!’ said Merritt in exasperation.

  ‘This isn’t what you planned, you mean,’ said the phoenix meaningfully.

  Merritt held Brighid’s stare briefly but his shoulders sagged. ‘Yes. This is not what I planned.’

  The gryphons attacked the Morrigan relentlessly. Talons swept towards the witch but as they appeared ready to close on her form the Morrigan vanished and appeared in another spot. Yet the ancient gryphons seemed to know what was needed. As the Morrigan moved around the circle there was always another gryphon ready to attack. They had seen the witch’s tactics before.

  Niamh felt the power of the witch’s spell dissipate as the gryphons attacked. She drew a deep breath as she felt the comforting form of the wand in her hand. But there was no possibility she could help the attackers. She was more likely to injure one of the attackers than strike the witch. The only thing in the gryphons’ favour was their number and their willingness to attack without fear.

  ‘They can’t keep this up forever,’ said Persephone. ‘Sooner or later the witch will find a way to take them down.’

  ‘I know that,’ said Niamh. ‘But they don’t need to keep it up forever. Just long enough so that …’

  Niamh’s sentence was cut short as a burst of light appeared between each of the stones. Fingal and the pixies swept into the circle, towing the tapestries torn from the long room at the castle.

  ‘About time!’ Niamh shouted as Fingal flew close by.

  ‘You’ll honour your promises?’ he said sternly.

  Niamh nodded.

  The pixie seemed satisfied and raced across the circle towards the closest tapestry. ‘Now lads! Do it now!’

  Grady stood mystified watching the Morrigan’s impossibly fast movements. ‘She’s time-folding,’ he said quietly.

  ‘That’s not possible,’ said Grace. ‘You can’t time-fold over those short distances. The power involved would tear any witch or wizard apart.’

  Grady was certain, though. As he watched he felt the world slow around him and the sounds of the screeching gryphons faded. While everything else moved in slow motion, the witch continued to duck and weave as sets of talons swept perilously close to her chest. Each time she moved from one place to another, Grady could see the folds of time created by the witch surround and shroud her. He was amazed no one had seen it before. ‘Mum. I know what to do. But we need to get in there!’

  ‘We’re not going anywhere. I can’t get through that barrier. I don’t have a wand! And Azrael won’t try.’

  Grady’s heart leapt as a flash of light heralded new arrivals. He saw a fuzzy shape arrow across the clearing to Niamh. ‘Maybe we won’t have to,’ he said, pointing. ‘Look!’

  Fury erupted inside the circle. The gryphons saw the load the pixies bore and screamed loudly. One of the creatures pulled away from its attack and landed. The pixies swiftly covered it with a tapestry and leapt back. An unearthly scream was followed by the tapestry glowing brightly. The figure in the intricately woven covering burned like a flame, bright and clear. The centre of the tapestry was suddenly consumed by the fire, leaving a figure holding a wand crouched on the ground. A human figure.

  The figure climbed unsteadily to its feet and staggered as if unused to two legs. The bold face and long golden hair was unmistakeable. Niamh recognised the woman from the original tapestry. The first of the twelve sorcerers had returned. The witch held her wand uncertainly and flexed fingers long unused. She looked at Niamh and nodded an acknowledgement before turning to face the Morrigan. She threw herself into the fray, firing spell after spell at the witch. As she took up the battle the next gryphon landed and was transformed. Then the next landed, and the next until the Morrigan found herself alone against twelve sorcerers. But still the unearthly speed with which she moved protected her.

  ‘How is she still holding the barriers?’ said Niamh to herself.

  ‘She can’t for much longer now,’ came the reply. ‘Watch.’

  As if in response to Persephone’s words, the first barrier flared brightly with an eye-searing intensity. It fell like confetti from the sky as the crowd surged forward.

>   ‘What do I do?’ she said.

  ‘Another wand at this point would be useful,’ said Persephone. ‘One barrier down, one to go.’

  Niamh watched the sorcerers as they continued to attack the Morrigan, but the battle was not going well. Despite their numbers the sorcerers were being slowly picked off by the spells of the Morrigan. Already two lay injured, their wand arms bleeding.

  ‘I can’t take her on by myself!’

  ‘You don’t have to. Let me help!’

  Niamh watched, curiously detached, as another sorcerer took a hit from the Morrigan’s deadly aim. Outside the circle there was no sign of anyone even attempting to break through the barrier. And Modron stood, as she had the whole way through the evening, impassive and maddeningly calm. Niamh knew with certainty there was only one thing she could do.

  ‘You promise you will give me control back when I ask for it?’

  There was silence from Persephone for a few moments before a hesitant reply. ‘I can’t promise you will want that, once you see what we can offer.’

  Niamh closed her eyes. This time there was no choice. The Morrigan downed another sorcerer. Four now lay cradling injuries but still the others fought on.

  ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘What do I nee…’

  Persephone leaped before Niamh could finish her sentence. But this was not like other times Niamh had joined with the Twin. The power that flowed through her threatened to overwhelm her. She opened her eyes. Somehow, some way, she was seeing the battle through two sets of eyes. She felt she had some control, but only just. And the power was no longer just hers. Persephone had joined with Hephaestus and those two now wielded the power of her and Grady.

  Outside the circle Merritt had rushed to Grace and Grady’s side after the first shield had fallen.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ he said, urgently hugging Grace.

  ‘No. But we have to get in there!’

  Grady felt the surge of power that Niamh had seconds before. The feeling was intoxicating as the four elements surged through him. But this time it was different. He was not a passenger on this journey. And the power! The power was something beyond his imaginings.

  ‘I think I can help with that,’ he said calmly. Gently he reached out towards the barrier that held everyone at bay and laid his palm against it. He felt the power running through it and the threads that held it in place. Gently he picked at one point and then slowly pushed his hand through. The barrier glowed and rapidly began to evaporate around his hand. He reached forward with his other hand and gently pulled apart a gap that grew and grew. Like an unravelling piece of material the barrier began to shred itself, falling asunder in burning fragments.

  As the barrier fell the Morrigan screamed and dropped Grace’s wand. Niamh was closest and saw the witch’s face revert back to the woman they knew as Aoife, but now the face looked strained and tense. It was no longer the proud and haughty Morrigan that stood there.

  ‘How did you do that?’ said Merritt, amazed.

  Grady turned to face his father. The face made Merritt flinch. The eyes were a deeper blue, the hair moved not from wind but with a golden flame, and it seemed a much older being looked out upon the world.

  ‘I’ll explain later,’ he said. The voice was still Grady’s, but with an edge to it. ‘Niamh needs us. And you will need this,’ he said, without looking at his mother. With one more flick of his wrist Grace’s wand flew across the clearing and into her waiting hand.

  Grady marched confidently into the circle and, in a perfectly synchronised blast of spell from both he and Niamh, the Morrigan was forced to face a new enemy. The witch sneered. With one almighty sweep of her wand she blew the ground out from under the remaining sorcerers sending them flying through the air and crashing into the stones of the circle. They fell stunned to the ground as the Morrigan marched towards Niamh and Grady.

  The two children stood side by side as the Morrigan advanced. ‘Do you think this will change anything!’ she screamed as she swatted away a volley of hexes sent her way by Merritt, Murdock and the others who had entered the circle. It was clear the battle had begun to take its toll on the Morrigan. Blood dripped from one of her arms and her dress was shredded around the hem.

  Niamh and Grady held up their hands together. Their voices boomed out across the clearing. ‘No more! Leave her to us!’

  But the warning came too late. Iris and her companions had entered the circle with vengeance in their minds. As one, the four dragons sent a blast of fire towards the Morrigan who, weakened from her battle, was slower to respond.

  Time slowed for Grady again. The fire that burned its way across the clearing towards the witch moved like molten metal through some arcane medium. Time folded easily – the fabric of the world was effortlessly squeezed and in a fraction of a second he stood between the witch and the deadly blast that wound its way towards her. He watched it approach him with a calmness he had never felt before. As he held his palm up towards the approaching fury, time flowed back. The dragon fire slammed into Grady and consumed both him and the Morrigan.

  Grace screamed as Grady was overwhelmed by the unsurvivable wall of flame gushing from the dragons’ open mouths. The heat could be felt from where she stood and curled the edges of grass into smouldering crisps.

  Iris saw with horror what she had done. Her flame vanished, followed immediately by the other three. Silence descended over the circle, smoke obscuring where the Morrigan and Grady had been.

  ‘What have you done, Iris?’ said Roland quietly.

  A mewling sound came from the dragon as it stood with smoke still curling out of its mouth.

  A breeze drifted across the clearing and the smoke cleared. Grady stood, unmoved, uninjured, his hand still held up, palm facing outwards. Behind him the Morrigan cowered on the ground. Around her the smoking grass showed the power of the dragon’s blast, but the witch herself was unhurt. Grady lowered his hand and gave Iris a stern stare. He raised one finger and gave her and the other dragons a powerful ‘Sit’ instruction. Immediately the other three dragons’ legs buckled and they dropped to the ground. Iris held her position for a few moments longer but eventually even her legs folded and she sat heavily on the ground inside the circle.

  ‘You will pay for that,’ said Iris.

  Grady smiled. ‘Perhaps. But not tonight.’

  Behind him the Morrigan seized her wand and turned a look of hatred towards Grady. Her arm drew back but before she could unleash a killing spell, a strong and powerful blast from the edge of the circle threw her backwards. The Morrigan turned to face the source of the latest blast and saw Grace firing spell after spell towards her.

  ‘Even now do you think you are a match for me? At this time? In this place?’ roared the Morrigan.

  Spells flew thick and fast between Grace and the Morrigan. They boomed and crashed as they slammed into each other and ricocheted into the night sky.

  Brighid appeared beside the children. ‘Why are their spells so loud?’ said Grady, not taking his eyes off the battle.

  Brighid watched intently as Grace and the Morrigan traded spells. ‘That’s what happens when family meets family.’

  Both the children felt the shock of the answer run through them, but knew the truth of it. The woman fighting her mother was their own blood.

  ‘You won’t leave here alive tonight. You do know that?’ said Grace, fending off a vicious looking scarlet hex.

  The Morrigan slowed her attack and stepped sideways, her back to the stone steps where Modron stood. ‘And you think it’s your destiny to stop me?’

  Grace held her distance, keeping her wand raised. ‘We all have a destiny. Some of us make our own. Others steal theirs.’

  ‘So you’re the sheriff, are you? Here to rescue the poor unsuspecting villagers from the evil stealing witch.’

  Grace smiled. ‘No. I couldn’t rescue a village. One person will do.’

  The Morrigan glowered back at Grace. ‘You couldn’t save her then. What makes you think
you can save her now. I could kill you with a single spell if I chose.’

  Grace dropped her wand to her side. ‘Then do your worst. I won’t stop you.’

  ‘You would accept your own death that easily?’

  ‘There are worse things than death.’

  The Morrigan seemed to consider the words before reaching a decision. ‘Then so be it. Who am I to stop you from receiving such a noble death.’

  Grace closed her eyes and stood with her arms outstretched like some pilgrim saint. The Morrigan cocked her head to one side as if surprised at the ease with which her victory would come. But then with snakelike speed she whipped her arm round and cast a killing spell at Grace.

  Time slowed for Grady and Niamh as they watched the spell creep across the space between the Morrigan and their mother. ‘We could stop it,’ said Grady in a curious, detached manner.

  ‘No need,’ said Niamh. ‘Watch.’

  The killing blast of magic flew straight. Grace breathed deeply and felt the deadly blast sear its way past her head and slam into one of the standing stones making it ring like a bell. The Morrigan stood dumbfounded at the missed shot.

  Grace opened her eyes again, smiled, and spoke. ‘You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled upon the wharves of sorrow.’

  The Morrigan screamed as she let loose another blast. This time the spell ripped through the fabric of Grace’s tunic but did not touch the flesh. Again it crashed into a standing stone and again the bell sounded.

  Grace did not flinch but her smile broadened. She spoke again, this time with more power in her voice. ‘And heard ring the bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.’