Azrael's Twins and the Circle of Stone: Book Two of the Nearworld Tales

by Vincent Mortimer

  Beside him, Niamh smiled at Grady as she inched further ahead.

  Grady, for once, shook his head at his sister and eased his speed back a little. He knew – at this stage anyway – that on a broomstick Niamh was practically unbeatable.

  Niamh scowled in mock anger at her brother but didn’t slow down. Up ahead she could see other riders in the sky – some of them castle guards patrolling, others on castle errands, and somewhere among them would be Bree, heading out to meet them.

  The trip to Morrigan’s Lake had been planned for weeks now. Tradition dictated that the family had to pay a visit to lands around the lake to wave the flag (or whatever else the king felt needed a good airing). Niamh personally thought the story about the trip had been made up to get them out of the castle over summer. But a brief trip to the library and a search of the Protocol Records showed it was a completely legitimate requirement. In fact, it had been pointed out to Niamh, the estates around Morrigan’s Lake belonged, in theory at least, to Merritt, her father, as part of his royal titles.

  Grady was focused on the sky ahead of him when a voice sounded in his head. ‘Did you escape today?’

  ‘What do you think,’ replied Grady petulantly.

  The chuckling reply did nothing to help Grady’s mood. ‘Watch out then!’ came the unspoken response.

  Grady stiffened, looking left and right. Niamh saw the urgency in her brother and, like him, started scanning the skies around them. She knew what was likely to happen next.

  Before either child could react a dark shape arrowed between them. A beat of leathery wings sent both children spinning about the axis of their brooms like pigs on a spit. They both screamed as Iris soared high before spiralling back towards them. As the beautifully sleek creature closed on them, Niamh pulled out her wand and sent a half-hearted stinging spell at the dragon who neatly barrel rolled around the blast.

  ‘Very funny, Iris,’ shouted Grady as the dragon sailed past.

  ‘Yes, I thought so,’ said Iris, though only Grady could hear the response. The link Grady shared with Iris was rare. But to Grady it was the most natural feeling in the world to be able to converse in the quiet of his own head with a dragon.

  ‘Yet again you did not see my approach,’ said Iris. ‘You must learn to be aware of what is happening around you. I caught you easily that time and if I can, then others can too.’

  Grady rolled his eyes. ‘But who do we need to fear? Balthasar is dead. We saw him die. And Niamh and I are growing stronger by the day.’

  ‘Strength isn’t everything. And remember what Balthasar boasted of to you?’ growled Iris. ‘“There are more of us out there than you realise.” You would do well to think on those words.’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry,’ said Grady, realising his error.

  ‘Sorry won’t keep you safe if others come after you. Think well. You know that you and your sister hold the future of this world, and the other, in your hands.’

  ‘Yes, we keep hearing that,’ said Grady, turning away from the dragon as it sculled lazily along beside the children.

  ‘Don’t whine,’ said Iris. ‘You are a prince and a future sorcerer. Whining doesn’t become you.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Grady.

  Iris snorted roughly and a pencil-thin bolt of flame scorched across Grady’s face leaving the hairs on his eyebrows smoking ever so gently. Grady sat back, patting at the smoking patch and cast an angry scowl at Iris.

  ‘You said “Whatever” to Iris, didn’t you,’ laughed Niamh.

  ‘So? Whatever to you too, Sis,’ said Grady as he angrily raced ahead.

  Niamh giggled to herself and cast a glance at Iris. The dragon gave her the sneakiest of winks before dropping like a stone and disappearing into the rising mist of the mountain forest below.

  ‘I love this place,’ Niamh said dreamily as she urged her broomstick forward to catch up with her grumpy brother.

  ‘What time do you call this, Niamh?’

  Niamh rolled her eyes at her mother’s question as she touched down on the balcony outside the family lounge in the Dragon’s Lair. Knowing her mother was the royal Princess Grace didn’t make the question any less annoying. ‘We’ve plenty of time, Mum. Dinner’s not for ages!’

  ‘Forget dinner, Miss. You KNOW we’re supposed to be meeting the king so you can learn about what’s expected of you at the lake next week.’

  ‘I was just about to …’ Niamh started to say, but was interrupted by a glower from her mother and the raising of “The Hand” – a sure sign that she wasn’t about to come out of the next few minutes with extra brownie points.

  ‘Never mind, Miss “I-was-just”. I’ve told you it doesn’t matter what you were just about to do. Whatever it was, it was not what you were meant to do.’

  Niamh grimaced, growled and stomped her foot. ‘Mum, you NEVER let me finish speaking!’

  ‘Niamh, if I thought what you were about to say would help with the fact that you are EXTREMELY late for a meeting with the king, I would listen, but right now – get to your room, get out of those clothes and get yourself back here in five minutes!’ Grace furrowed her brow as she saw how grubby Niamh’s face looked. ‘And make sure you get into the bathroom and give your face a wash. There’s muck all over you. What were you two doing down there?’

  Grady watched the argument unfold with his usual glee. He had heard mothers and daughters had a “special” relationship and if this was it then he was going to enjoy watching it develop. But he didn’t have time to enjoy the scene too much before his mother turned on him.

  ‘And you!’ Grace snorted with a scowl that seemed even deeper than the one heaped upon Niamh. ‘What sort of state do you think you’re in? That’s the third set of jeans you’ve been through in the last two weeks!’

  Grady cast a glance downwards. The tumble from the broomstick at the entrance to the labyrinth had left him with a torn patch on his knee – again – and his mother was absolutely right. ‘Yeah Mum, but it was Niamh’s fault!’

  ‘It’s always Niamh’s fault. One of these days you’re going to have to learn it’s not everyone else’s fault. Take a little bit of responsibility for yourself. It’s not all about you.’

  Grady glowered back at his mother. Didn’t she know what he and his sister had been through in the vault only months before? But then he caught himself and remembered that yes, she probably knew only too well what had happened. ‘Sorry Mum,’ he said, dropping the glower and pushing past his still fuming sister.

  ‘Grady!’ yelled Niamh. ‘Why do you have to PUSH past like that? There was plenty of space to get round me!’

  ‘Drop it Niamh,’ said Grace firmly. ‘And the two of you just get moving and get changed please! The king is waiting!’

  ‘Mum, he’s not going to get upset at us,’ said Niamh. ‘We’re family after all.’

  ‘Yes, and you’re a princess and a prince who should know how to be on time! Now get to your rooms and get changed!’

  The children stomped away down the hall, both slamming their bedroom doors at each other. Grace let out a deep sigh. Prince, princess, wizard or witch, it didn’t really matter. First and foremost they were children. I need to remember that she thought to herself as she tried to calm her mood.

  A crash from the kitchen made her jump. The grogoch, the small smelly faerie creature that had taken up residence with the family, was obviously trying to rearrange his home in the corner cupboard again – and unsuccessfully from the sound of it. ‘Why now?’ she said to no one in particular as she turned towards the annoyed grumblings from the twiggy little creature in the corner.

  Chapter 2

  Instructions and Introduction

  ‘So, what part of “Be on time” was too complex for you to understand?’

  Niamh and Grady stood sheepishly in front of the king and queen – the king regarding them with a much more stern and scary version of the face employed by their father when they received a telling off from him. This look was far worse than anythin
g they ever received from their parents, and in this case it was made worse again by its delivery in front of the seated audience of the king’s inner circle – their parents, Murdock the elf, Hector McHavering and Roland Ruffelbane (whose command over the royal dragons gave them a special place in the king’s court), Vynda Vulf (not in her werewolf form today but, as ever, lounging like one of the royal hounds under her care), and their Uncle Garrett (whose place within the castle guard was earned through his especially powerful and uncannily elflike broomstick skills). A handful of shadowy courtiers whose names and functions had never been completely explained to the children lingered in the shadows.

  ‘One of the most important lessons you need to learn as royalty is to show up on time,’ growled the king, standing up and marching down the steps from the throne. His royal presence seemed somewhat diminished to the children by the effect of the tan cardigan, green corduroy pants and tatty garden shoes he wore. The king stood dauntingly close in front of the children and twirled his glasses, staring at their bowed heads. As if reading their thoughts about his appearance he went on; ‘And don’t be fooled by my cardigan either. I may have an approach to my wardrobe which your grandmother describes as “bohemian court shabby” but at least I was here on time!’ He circled the children once, twirling his glasses as he did so without saying a word. ‘Well?’ he went on. ‘Anything to say for yourselves?’

  Niamh and Grady took a deep and abiding interest in the tiles on the floor rather than facing the king. But both mumbled a barely audible apology for their lateness.

  ‘And what do you call that!’ bellowed the king.

  Grady felt colour rising in his cheeks. His blush was interrupted by the sound of a hollow laugh from behind the throne. He shot a glance towards a pair of eyes peering out from the wall – no face, no mouth – just a pair of eyes. He remembered that look too well from his brush with the spirit that dwelled in the walls of the castle – the spirit who called herself Miranda.

  Grady glanced at Niamh. The look on her face showed that she too had seen the ethereal being. But it was also clear no one else in the room sensed the creature’s presence. Grady felt a red mist rise in response to the mocking laugh. He HATED being laughed at and now, when he ought to keep a clear head in front of the king, he felt himself lose control. He raised his head and met the king’s stare with a fiery look of his own.

  ‘It was an apology for our lateness, Your Highness, if you must know. And next time perhaps you could listen a little better, Sir,’ he added tartly.

  Niamh closed her eyes and heard the intake of breath from her mother. Now we’re for it, she thought to herself.

  The king didn’t flinch at the hot response from Grady but seemed to intensify his gaze. Bending lower he went nose to nose with his grandson. ‘And do you think a reply like that will help you right now?’ he said quietly.

  The red mist had lifted and Grady knew he was in trouble. Holding the king’s gaze, he took a deep breath and said, ‘Worth a shot.’

  Murdock turned away from the scene. The hand he clamped across his mouth and the creasing around his eyes made it clear he was desperately trying to hold back laughter. The queen put down her knitting and made no attempt to hide her amusement, while Merritt and Grace closed their eyes and said a silent prayer that this was not going to end any worse for the children than expected.

  The king stared impassively at Grady. The look went on for an uncomfortably long time before a broad smile grew across his face followed closely by a hearty laugh. ‘You’ll do,’ he laughed. ‘Just like your father. You’ll do fine. That’s a good answer to give a king,’ he chuckled, before turning and marching to his chair. ‘But only once,’ he said with a fierce look at Grady. ‘Now, sit down and let’s get on with this.’

  Grady breathed a sigh of relief. This time at least, his mouth had got away with it.

  ‘How much do you know about Morrigan’s Lake?’ said the king to the children as they too took their seats.

  ‘Not a lot,’ said Niamh politely. ‘We know it’s part of our lands and the lands are part of Dad’s responsibilities, but not much else.’

  The king cast a frown over the top of his glasses at Merritt and Grace. ‘What have you been teaching them? Or perhaps, not teaching them would be a better question.’

  Merritt shuffled his feet. ‘Well it’s been bu…’ he started to say.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure there are a hundred good excuses for why you have been neglecting their education, but not one good reason. Remember what I taught you?’

  ‘Excuses Are Not The Same As Reasons,’ Merritt said – obviously parroting a phrase used against him many times before. ‘But we really ha…’ he started to say before again being cut off by the king – not by a word this time but by “The Hand” raised in silent command. Niamh and Grady exchanged a smile. Now they knew where “The Hand” came from, and took some delight in seeing it used against their own father.

  ‘Make sure they know all of the formalities before they get there. You haven’t been there for many years and it’s not the place it was when you left. You don’t want these two messing it up.’

  ‘You should not unduly worry about the children,’ came a voice which echoed in the rafters above them. Murdock jumped from his seat while wands appeared in the others’ hands. As they stared at the shadows in the rooftop they saw glowing dust motes appear that slowly swirled and coalesced into the unmistakable shape of a phoenix. The bird drifted gently down, wings extended, and with a faint sound of hissing flame and a clack of talons, settled slowly onto the floor beside the group.

  The children sat with open mouths as the creature turned its gaze upon them. There was no doubt this was the same phoenix born from the ashes of Belimawr, its previous incarnation.

  ‘Good tae see ye,’ said McHavering, stepping forward. ‘Y’know how tae make an entrance, I’ll give ye that.’

  The phoenix turned towards the burly Scotsman and cast him a penetrating stare as McHavering bowed deeply. The remainder of the audience – the king and queen included – also rose as one and mirrored McHavering’s greeting. Niamh and Grady had not recovered from their shock and were still seated as their father glanced towards them and urgently gestured for them to do the same. Niamh jumped to her feet and dragged Grady up beside her. Their attempts at copying the bow made by the others resulted in Grady toppling sideways into his sister who roared back at him. ‘Grady!’

  Merritt shook his head and covered his eyes as he and the others stood again. There was no mistaking the disapproving look from the king, who clearly was not in one of his best moods. Merritt knew there would be a lecture later about his failure to train them correctly in royal manners, but for now the tension was broken by the chiming, tinkling laugh of the phoenix.

  Grace rose from her bow and stepped towards the phoenix. ‘We don’t know your name, and as we have no lore master these days there are none here who do. Will you tell us?’

  ‘There is one here who should know,’ said the phoenix, turning to McHavering.

  ‘Aye. Aye I think I do know. You would be …’

  ‘Brighid!’ blurted out both children in unison.

  Niamh and Grady turned and shared a startled glance at each other. Niamh put her hand on Grady’s shoulder and sent an urgent thought to him; ‘Did you hear a voice? A girl’s voice?’

  ‘No. It was a boy’s. Did you hear the name?’

  ‘Yes!’ thought Niamh. ‘Don’t tell them! Don’t say anything about it!’ She dropped her hand as Grady gave a barely perceptible nod.

  The phoenix turned ancient eyes upon the children. ‘Yes. I am Brighid.’ The phoenix’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. ‘But how did you know? Have you been reading the lore yourselves?’

  ‘Well …’ Grady started to say. ‘You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

  The phoenix smiled. ‘You would be surprised at the things I can believe in. Why don’t you try me?’

  Grady glanced at his sister. Niamh bit her
lip as she touched his arm.

  ‘You can’t say anything! Keep it to yourself.’

  Though they had shared this gift between them for many months now, the gift of silent speech was something they used sparingly. Niamh realised their secret would not last long if they kept using it in front of an audience like this.

  ‘Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being stared at!’ Grady thought in reply.

  Grady moved his arm away from Niamh. A sense of disquiet washed over him as he did so. That feeling was another reason they did not communicate like this often. Every time the bond was broken after joining their minds in silent conversation there was a sense of loss and alongside it a feeling of being alone, more cut off than before they had shared the bond. He was fairly sure brother and sister were meant to despise each other a little more than that – for at least a few more years.

  Grady turned to the phoenix and tried his best poker face on the creature. ‘Just a guess,’ he said.

  ‘A guess,’ said the phoenix sharply. It was not a question.

  Grady simply nodded and, despite his heart beating loudly, managed to hold his stare in the face of Brighid’s gaze.

  The phoenix bent closer to Grady who (Niamh thought later) did amazingly well in the face of the stare. There was not even a reflexive drawing away of the head. She was not sure her response would have been as defiant had Brighid turned that look upon her.

  ‘And you, Niamh?’ said Murdock. ‘Was it just a guess from you too?’

  Niamh wondered if this was a moment for a little white lie, a moderately sized lie, or a straight out whopper of a lie. There was little time to decide, so rather than agonise she cast doubts aside and went for the whopper. ‘Yes. Just a guess. I have been catching up on my Celtic tales and guessed that as Belimawr was the Sun God then the female version had to be Brighid.’