Echoes of Avalon (Tales of Avalon Book 1)

by Adam Copeland

  The young lady with the dowsing rod pulled off her blindfold. “But Lord Loki, I really felt I was on to something,” she said with a pouty expression.

  “If we couldn't find it, then neither would have you, Beatrice,” one of the observing Ladies called out. She turned to Loki. “So where is it?”

  Loki fished around in his pocket, eyes widening in mock surprise, then pulled out a shiny object. “Why, here it is!”

  The girls simultaneously moaned in protest at the sight of the bronze brooch. Their clucking rose to new levels as they complained about the fairness of the location of the “hidden” object. “Now Ladies,” he said, voice smooth and calming. “I never said where I hid it. Besides, I'll show you another game tonight at dinner which is much more fun. It only requires three nut shells, a pea, and some of your money.” He turned to Father Hugh and winked. “That's not the work of the Devil, is it?”

  Father Hugh gave the slightest of sighs with a hint of a smile, or perhaps a smirk. Just the same, he shook his head and left with his retinue, their shaved pates glinting in the sun as they walked away.

  “Now what, Master?” Minion squeaked at Loki's side. He had gathered the dowsing rod and bob from the girl, and returned the handkerchief to its owner.

  Loki turned in the direction of the fountain. “I'm certain we've pinpointed the location of the secret door. It is up to you to figure out how to open it.”

  “Me?” Minion said.

  Loki pinched the little man's cheek and shook it. “Of course you. I have a date with three young ladies.”

  #

  That evening, when most everyone was at supper, Minion strode out into the cobblestone courtyard. He carried a bucket, which he swung lazily to-and-fro by its hemp handle. He whistled as he walked.

  He noted the night watchman on the wall and waved a greeting. The watchman returned the gesture and continued on his patrol. Minion knew that the man would walk the length of the wall before turning around and coming back. The same was true of his colleague on the other side of the gate, walking in the opposite direction. Minion knew from long observation that it would be approximately fifteen minutes before they came this way again. If his task took longer than that, then his apparent water-fetching errand would turn into a garment-cleaning errand. All of this was a mere precaution, as the guards probably wouldn't pay him any heed. Their attention would be focused on the other side of the wall. After all, danger was supposed to come from outside.

  Minion placed the bucket on the side of the fountain and quickly moved to the corner where it and the wall came together; where the bob on the dowsing rod had leaned multiple times. He began testing stones by pushing on them, then rapped on them with his knuckles and listened for hollowness. He found nothing. He leaped up and down, whacking several higher stones. After a short while of this exercise, he smartened up and retrieved the bucket. This he turned over, stood on it, and recommenced his search. But again he found nothing. He cursed as he heard the sound of the guard's spear clicking on the stones above as the watchman returned. Minion brought the bucket back to the fountain and took off his cloak. He laid it on the edge of the fountain and made scrubbing motions over it while whistling.

  Some time passed, and Minion couldn’t help but notice that the guards were taking their sweet time in resuming their patrol. His mouth grew dry from whistling and he tired of scrubbing. He wound up the garment length-wise and pretended to wring water from it. After a period, he ventured a glance up to see the position of the guards and cursed again when he saw that they were chatting not far from him.

  Minion rolled his eyes and bobbed his head from side to side in rhythm with his whistling, which was becoming more and more strained. He unrolled his cloak and began waving it in the air as if drying it. He sneaked another peak at the guards and was pleased to see them move on. And then his cloak escaped his grasp and fell in the water, getting wet for real. He cursed his luck, and was reaching to retrieve the article of clothing when he noticed that it was floating towards the edge of the fountain. So were the bubbles, leaves, twigs and other objects floating in the water, marking a faint current.

  The cloak bunched up against the edge, and some of it was getting sucked under. It never occurred to him to consider where the water went after it gushed from the bearded fountainhead against the wall. Minion ran his hand under the edge of the fountain and found that the water was spilling into a gap.

  Minion maneuvered towards the corner while keeping his hand in the drain slit. His arm had to stretch further the closer he got to the corner, as the gap widened from a hand’s width to a shoulder’s. At the corner, Minion was on his tiptoes and flattened out over the slab. Because he was, his ear was to the stone and he could hear a large amount of water plunging, as if over a waterfall. And more, the sound echoed, as if in a cave.

  His heart leapt with excitement and he reached out with his other hand and joined his first on the stone lip above the slit. He huffed and puffed as he tugged on the stone, not sure what to expect, but then almost cried out when the slab tilted in his direction. His feet were now on the ground and he could pull even stronger, though he found it unnecessary. The slab tilted easily and came to rest perpendicular to the fountain edge.

  Through some neat trick of engineering, the pivot slab was hinged to the adjoining stones by the contours of their rough surfaces. The opening was just big enough to allow one person down a shaft carved into the stone, and Minion could now see that the slit just underneath the lip of the fountain edge was really a shallow gutter running along most of the fountain edge, hidden just out of sight. Water flowed down it from left to right and gradually widened as it approached the shaft where it plunged down into darkness. Opposite the falling water were rough-hewn mason stones protruding from the shaft wall to form a ladder.

  Without hesitation Minion jumped into the opening, grabbing at an indentation carved into the center of the underside of the pivot slab and pulled it closed behind him. As he closed the stone, he was certain that he had not been seen, and the noise of the bubbling fountain had obscured the sound of grinding stones.

  He made his way down the dank, noisy passage until his feet touched firm ground. There he stood for several minutes to listen and let his eyes adjust to the dark. Judging by the echoing sound, he was in a relatively large chamber with a pool. The air smelled of mildew, and the walls were slick with slime.

  At first, this was as far as he planned on going. But then he was surprised to see two dim shafts of light penetrating the dark from above him. Rather, they were more like lighter shades of dark compared to the rest of the stygian blackness. As he stared at them, he realized that they were coming from the eyeholes of the carved bearded figure on the fountain. Evidently the fountainhead was hollow, save for the mouth where the water bubbled, and behind the effigy was this hidden cavern. The moon cast just enough light through the eyes to make navigation possible. In daytime, the place was probably very well lit.

  Two bulwarks of stone framed an exit. Between them the pool drained into a stream. Minion guessed that he was directly beneath the keep walls, and these man-made bulwarks were their roots.

  He slowly made his way along the wall away from the ladder and paused beside the stream, next to the bulwarks. His eyes adjusted again. As he proceeded, he stumbled and fell many times―the floor of the cave was crooked and strewn with rocks. It wasn't long before the light began to increase and he could see an opening. When he finally reached it, it was very tall, but very narrow. Even his small frame had to turn sideways in order to exit. As he struggled out of the crack, he noticed immediately the smells of the outdoors―grass, trees, flowers. The damp and rocky earth gave way to dry terrain, then a clear night sky broke overhead, seeming as bright as day.

  When he was free, he turned to look where he had just come from. It was barely a crack among many boulders, marked only by the stream gurgling from it. Minion looked up and recognized instantly where he was. Above, up a craggy cliff, were the keep wa
lls. He was in the bottom of a waterless moat, over which the drawbridge was lowered. He could just make out the tiny head of one of the guards, bobbing along the wall as he patrolled.

  #

  Father Benis wiped dust off the shelf then replaced the book. He grabbed the book’s neighbor and repeated the ritual. He did this for the better part of a complete row at eye level until the removal of a book caused him to step back and gasp.

  “Greetings,” said the face that peered through the empty slot where the book had been. Somebody was standing on the other side of the bookshelf.

  “My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” Loki said.

  After clutching his chest as one experiencing a heart attack, Benis regained his composure and smiled. “Oh, hello. Fine day we are having, are we not?”

  “Quite,” Loki smiled, all teeth.

  “Can I help you?”

  Loki tilted his head to one side as if thinking. He walked to a nearby carrel and ran a gloved hand over its surface. He looked over the dust he had accumulated on the glove, and blew it off. “Most likely you can.” He was so long in making a reply that Father Benis had recommenced to place books back on the shelves, while looking over his shoulder, waiting for a response. “In my travels I have heard much about this Isle of Avalon. That was one of the many reasons for my coming here. Now that I am here, I wish to learn more. But my search of this library has turned up rather lacking in literature concerning this Insula Sacre. Are there, perhaps, tomes that I have overlooked or are not…” he made a flowing gesture that encompassed the library, “…readily available to the general public?”

  The Librarian turned his back to the Viscount and placed the last of the books on the shelves. When he turned, he was wringing his hands and he laughed nervously. “I am afraid this is the entire collection here. There are a few books which concern a brief hist...”

  “That's peculiar,” Loki’s face turned quizzical. “I’ve heard from one of the Avangarde, Gawain I believe, mentioned that there is a private collection locked up hereabouts.”

  The priest shifted uneasily, but maintained his smile. “Oh, those works. Well, as the good knight pointed out,” there was a bit of irony in his voice when he said good knight. “Those works are private and at the Church's order remain under lock and key until it is decided what to do with them.”

  Loki tsked. “Surely a fellow scholar such as you can appreciate my innocent inquiries. I only wish to expand my knowledge. Certainly no harm could come of it.” The Viscount nudged the little priest with his elbow and winked. “I am sure you have felt from time to time the twinge of curiosity.”

  The Librarian grinned. “Maybe, maybe, but Father Constant, and certainly Mother Superior, forbid it.”

  “How would they...”

  “They would, trust me, and certainly have the perpetrator excommunicated.”

  Loki raised an eyebrow. “Well, I dare say I wouldn't want that. I'm not that curious!”

  “There's a fellow,” said Father Benis.

  The Viscount folded his arms and stroked his dark glossy goatee. “And where would such items be kept underneath lock and key? The keep dungeon? Treasure room? Or maybe the tower?”

  Father Benis laughed. “Why, in the treasure room with all the keys that go to all the chastity belts of all the maidens in the keep.”

  Loki guffawed. “With the keys...!” He couldn't finish the sentence, he was laughing so hard. He slapped the Librarian on the shoulder in a friendly manner. Benis returned the gesture. Loki bade the Librarian good day between wheezing breaths and staggered out of the keep Library.

  When Loki had left, Father Benis stood wiping tears from his eyes for a moment, smiling. “The keys...” He shook his head bemusedly and once again started to put books on the shelves. He paused for a moment, looked back in the direction that the Viscount had taken, and moved to the back of the library. There, he tugged on the edge of a wooden shelf. It swung away from the wall like a door, and behind it was a metal cabinet with a large key hole. He removed his string of prayer beads and held forward the large metal crucifix dangling at the end. He placed the end of this into the key hole and turned. The cabinet door swung open to reveal scores of ancient leather-bound volumes, scrolls and peculiar objects. After gazing upon them for a moment, he closed the metal portal, locked it, and shut the shelf. He then walked away.

  Above him, unnoticed, was Minion sitting and watching from a shadowed shelf, expressing his enthusiasm with his characteristic hand rubbing.

  #

  Several nights later Loki hovered over a boiling cauldron in the woods. He stirred the coals in the fire with a stick and then threw some spices into the boiling liquid, which did absolutely nothing to improve the smell of the concoction. Utilizing the secret door, Loki had come to find that sneaking out of the keep was easy enough, even with all this paraphernalia (though it took several trips to ready for this evening). It was all about timing.

  “Minion, fetch the chicken,” he demanded. The impish servant moved to remove the hapless fowl from its wicker basket cage.

  Loki pulled his hands back from the pot, and shook them with a look of disgust. “This is ridiculous. Eye of newt, tongue of snail...yish! I'm telling you, Minion, I long for the old days when one didn't need such silliness to facilitate a simple invocation. But then again, that is why I am here, isn't it? Give me that!” He snatched the struggling bird from Minion's fumbling hands. Loki adeptly wrenched the animal’s neck and it stopped its squirming. He threw its carcass into the cauldron and chanted an arcane tune, half smirking.

  He circled his hand over the boiling liquid, then reached down and picked up a mandrake root from his supplies. He brushed it off and then, barehanded, thrust it into the hot liquid. He squeezed his eyes shut, grunted terribly, then released a howl that at first sounded of pain, but turned to something that sounded akin to pleasure.

  “Yes!” he cried. His lips grimaced into the shape of a smile around gritted teeth. He removed the dripping root and held it up, chest heaving, eyes closed.

  “Master! Look!”

  “I know, be calm.”

  Loki slowly opened his eyes and saw his servant huddled nearby. All about their little encampment there was movement. Shadowy, flowing figures that made no noise. There was a single set of blazing eyes before them in the night, as high as the tree branches just out of range of the firelight. These burning coals belonged to a hulk of a creature. Branches cracked and the earth rumbled as the beast shifted in the darkness.

  “Who summons me, in an age when no one summons?” it growled. Its voice was unearthly. Minion's teeth chattered.

  Loki stood. “Loki summons you.”

  The eyes narrowed in the dark. It snorted like a bull. “I know this name, though it means nothing to me anymore. Be gone, you have no power over me.” The eyes shifted as the creature moved to depart.

  “I beg to differ, ogre,” Loki said, holding up the vaguely man-shaped root. This he squeezed violently, and fluid dripped from it. The creature in the woods lurched and growled fiercely.

  After a long time: “What is your bidding?”

  Loki sneered. “That's better. I need you and your kindred here. I need a diversion in yonder keep.”

  The eyes laughed. “You are mad. That place reeks of men and iron. What would our presence possibly accomplish? They already suspect our existence. They foray out into these woods from time to time to chase us. If we enter their walls, they could do us harm. Even I, who can not be harmed by their iron, would be eternally harassed. We are weak. No good could come of it.”

  “If you do this for me, I can make you strong again,” Loki enticed.

  The eyes narrowed again. “You lie, this is not possible. Our age is over. Even on this island the Light penetrates the mist that separates the worlds and is growing.”

  “Wrong. I can reverse that, even extend the vale!” Loki stepped forward. “I just need time, and the proper diversion inside the walls of the keep. Do this fo
r me and I will grant you powers of your former self. I am Loki.”

  The eyes shook from side to side. “Half of us have little substance, the other half losing substance. We are like smoke.”

  Loki smiled devilishly. “Perfect. Smoke and mirrors are my specialty.”

  “I am listening.”

  #

  Across the room, Sir McFowler entered the dining hall with his now-ever-present entourage of Willy and Sir Gregory. The trio had become fast friends—finding a common bond in their boyish exuberance. Jason personally tutored William in the bagpipes, and Gregory and the Highlander loved to play the riddle game. Their laughter echoed in the corridors of Greensprings. The two knights and the merchant's son bustled toward some open benches near the nuns’ table.

  Jason accidentally bumped into Mother Superior and he could be heard saying; “Oh, pardon me, Ma.”

  Mother Superior just shook her head.

  Patrick smiled and shook his head as well. Soon, however, he realized after watching the trio carry on that he was sitting all alone in a sea of people enjoying each other’s company; King Mark merrily talking with the Lady Christianne; Sir Geoffrey surrounded by young ladies like a cock in a coop; Sir McFowler and his companions; Patrick watched them and envied their carefree camaraderie. He sighed heavily and inspected his glass for the thousandth time: Real crystal, he thought, scrutinizing the cup. He was so often surprised at the wealth that turned up in the keep.

  “Gawain, please.” Christianne's shrill voice penetrated his thoughts. He looked at her, and she gestured with her head at his hands. He realized that he had been running his finger around the brim of the crystal, causing it to hum eerily.

  “Pardon me, my Lady,” he said, sounding more than a little sarcastic. He drained the last of the courage from the crystal, stood, straightened out his surcoat over his mail and walked over to the three across from him at their table.