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

by Vincent Mortimer

  ‘Oh, you can trust me,’ said Niamh in her most sincere voice. ‘I’m the height of discretion. You know that.’

  Quinn rolled his eyes knowing his fate was more or less sealed.

  ‘Get out of here before I change my mind. But you need to tell me where you’re going. If you get stuck, you need to call me, and if you’re not back in a few hours I will come looking for you. You are still royalty and ... more than royalty. You know that. Someone needs to keep an eye on you.’

  ‘We’re going to Morrigan’s Daughter,’ said Grady.

  ‘Grady! He wasn’t asking you.’

  ‘Well, pardon me,’ said Grady sarcastically.

  Niamh rolled her eyes and turned back to Quinn. ‘Morrigan’s Daughter,’ she said.

  Quinn frowned. ‘Why now? You could go there any time without getting into trouble.’

  ‘Someone there can help me with my broomstick skills. And I found out that Mum is going to enter me in a broomstick biathlon which I’m not ready for. I could do with all the help I can get.’

  ‘Who is going to help you?’ said Quinn, curiosity lacing his voice.

  ‘Someone called Aoife,’ said Niamh. ‘Someone we know said she might be able to help. And anything I can do to beat Hegeline Baskerville in that race will be worth it.’

  Quinn did not look impressed. ‘Do you recall your legends, Niamh?’

  ‘Mostly,’ she said. ‘Which ones in particular?’

  ‘Aoife was the wife of King Lir. She was as bad a witch as it’s possible to be. She became the Morrigan that the lake is named after. If you are going to meet someone with that name around here then you should be careful. It’s not a name taken lightly. It’s a name taken deliberately. And dangerously.’

  ‘We’ll be careful,’ said Niamh as she reached for her broomstick. ‘Do me a favour, will you?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Quinn, nodding.

  ‘Tell me if you can see the broomstick when I cast this spell.’

  Niamh straddled the broomstick and let the river and the spell wash over her again. She felt it envelop her and opened her eyes again. Everything was the same as before but she could feel the power crackling through her fingers.

  ‘Can’t see a thing,’ said Quinn, sounding obviously impressed.

  ‘Thank you,’ came Niamh’s voice from the apparently empty space in front of Quinn. ‘Coming, Grady? We’ll be late.’

  Grady shared a look with Quinn and rolled his eyes.

  ‘I might be invisible, Grady, but I’m not blind. I saw that!’ said Niamh testily.

  Grady sat astride his broomstick and vanished from Quinn’s view. As he did so, Niamh appeared beside him.

  ‘Ready?’ she said.

  ‘As ever I can be for getting into more trouble.’

  ‘Get over it Grady, and follow me!’ Niamh kicked off and rose up over the battlements.

  Grady shook his head. ‘Back in a few hours,’ he shouted to Quinn.

  ‘Okay,’ Quinn said, groping towards where Niamh had just been.

  ‘Sorry. She’s gone. And I had better get after her. See you soon!’ Grady turned to follow Niamh as Quinn called goodbye. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this,’ he muttered to himself as he sailed upwards.

  The shores of Morrigan’s Daughter looked wild and untamed compared with the civilised shores of its bigger relation. Thick woods ran down from mountain slopes towards a dark blue lake. A grim feeling of unease rose from the lake and surrounds as if a spell lay over the land. The children had felt warm enough on their broomsticks but as they crossed into the domain of the lake they felt a chill in the air.

  Ahead of them lay the only clearing they could see in the forest. The thick boughs of the trees gave way to a circle of tall stones – some standing proudly upright, others at a drunken lean. A flash of light caught their eye. Niamh pointed to it and the children swept down towards the circle, landing gently on a path that ran from the stones down to the lake. Modron stood quietly at the top of the path staring at the stones, her back to where the children had landed.

  Niamh let the spell evaporate, and noted the sensation of loss as the power drained away. She wondered how much power it took to cast that spell.

  ‘You would die without my help casting it,’ came the reply, unbidden, and proud.

  ‘Tell me about it later,’ said Niamh. Persephone’s comments were easier to handle now that Niamh knew the girl was constantly alert to her thoughts.

  ‘Welcome,’ said Modron without turning around. ‘You are right on time.’

  Niamh and Grady were almost upon the troll before she turned to face them. ‘It’s a beautiful place, don’t you think?’ she said, gesturing at the ring.

  Now that they were closer the children could see how big the stones really were. They towered twice as tall as either Niamh or Grady, and were clearly ancient. Spirals and sweeping designs carved into the rock were heavily weathered by their time in the wind and rain. Ancient moss crawled across the face of some stones and hung from those that leaned. But at the edge of the stones lay a set of steps that looked freshly laid. There was not a trace of age or wear on the treads that led to a single small pillar. Modron stood directly in front of these steps as if waiting for an invitation to climb them.

  ‘How old is the circle?’ said Grady, touching one particularly gnarled stone. He laid his hand on it, but pulled away again as if scalded. ‘It feels like it’s … alive, like it’s pulsing or something. That’s weird.’

  ‘There are many ways to define weird,’ said Modron. ‘But stones that live are no stranger than we trolls who can wander the earth. These are my kin, though not in a way you would understand.’

  Grady looked nervously at the stones. ‘They wouldn’t be upset at me calling them weird, would they?’

  ‘No,’ said Modron calmly. ‘No more so than that combination of clothes you are wearing today might upset them.’

  Grady looked affronted. ‘What’s wrong with my clothes? I call it my castle grunge look.’

  Niamh laughed. ‘Grunge is one thing, Grady, but green striped socks and a yellow and blue check shirt is laying it on a bit thick. The red sweatshirt is a good contrast, which is saying something when everything else you’re wearing clashes!’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Grady dismissively.

  ‘I think we owe you a broomstick ride,’ said Niamh.

  ‘I’d like that,’ said Modron, smiling.

  ‘One question,’ said Grady, his brow wrinkling in thought. ‘Your home is a long way from here. Did someone drop you off or did you come here yourself? And if you did come here yourself, then how? You don’t ride broomsticks, so what’s your trick?’

  ‘That’s three questions,’ said Modron, ‘but I’ll answer them anyway.’

  Niamh smirked at Modron’s clever and quick reply.

  ‘I did come here myself,’ said Modron calmly. ‘I wasn’t dropped off. And I do have a trick. Would you like to see it?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Grady.

  ‘Then you may care to stand back.’ Modron winked at Niamh and briefly smiled before simply melting directly into the earth beneath her feet. A few moments later a rustling sound made the children look to the far side of the stones. The ground erupted in a fountain of dirt as Modron reappeared, looking as if she grew out of the earth rather than simply rose through it.

  ‘That’s brilliant!’ said Grady, running across the circle with Niamh. ‘Can we do that too?’

  ‘Not unless you can turn yourself to stone and minerals,’ said Modron. ‘It’s troll magic, something no other race can do.’

  ‘So you walked your way through the mountains to get here?’ said Niamh incredulously. ‘Did it take long?’

  Modron shook her head. ‘It’s faster than almost anything you humans can do. There were some special skills humans once had, but those arts are long lost. At least we think they are long lost.’ Modron gave the children a meaningful glance.

  ‘That’s very cool,’ said Grady. ‘I
think I owe you that broomstick ride now.’

  ‘I thought I was going to do that?’ said Niamh, feeling a little affronted.

  ‘It’s fine Niamh,’ said Modron. ‘I think you should stay here and discover the circle and the forest a little. There are many secrets in here. Many things that may surprise … you.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said quietly. ‘But don’t be long. And don’t let Grady do anything stupid.’

  ‘That might be asking a lot, but I’ll bear it in mind,’ said Modron, smiling.

  ‘Hey!’ said Grady. ‘I am still here, you know.’

  ‘My apologies,’ said Modron. ‘Now how do I get onto this thing?’

  Grady swung his leg over the broomstick. It hovered above the ground bobbing slightly as Grady let go. ‘Climb on the back here behind me. It carries our dogs really easily, so you should be no problem.’

  ‘I’m a little heavier than a dog,’ said Modron as she clumsily lifted a leg over the bristles. The broomstick dropped with her weight on it and tipped backwards precariously before righting itself again.

  ‘Wow,’ said Grady. ‘Maybe you are heavier than you look. Hold on tight!’

  Modron put her arms around Grady’s waist and for the first time looked concerned. ‘Are you sure this is safe?’

  ‘Well I haven’t killed anyone. Yet,’ said Grady.

  ‘That’s comforting,’ said Modron.

  ‘Here we go!’ Grady kicked off from the ground but this time there was none of the quick acceleration from the broomstick that Grady was used to. It struggled forward slowly, before sluggishly lifting skyward. It eventually picked up speed but Grady let out a little yelp as his boots clipped one of the nearby trees, showering the ground below with leaves.

  Niamh laughed as she watched them climb into the sky and heard Modron let out a clear whoop of delight. Niamh was still chuckling to herself as she turned and found a tall woman in red standing close behind her. Jet black hair hung halfway down her back, held in a ponytail with an ivory clasp. The woman shone with an unearthly glow. There was no mistaking the face. Her mother stood there with a look fixed on Niamh that she had never seen before. A look of penetrating malice and pure evil.

  Chapter 12

  Lessons

  Niamh retreated from the woman in red, drawing her wand as she did.

  The woman threw back her head and laughed. When she looked back at Niamh, her face was subtly different. It was no longer her mother standing in front of her. It was as if a sculptor had attempted to capture her mother’s face but left it a little too angular, a little too sharp. The woman’s look of evil had evaporated with her laugh and the toss of her head. A smile broke the menacing visage like the sun across a stormy sea. Niamh felt her fear melt under the gaze of deep blue eyes.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said the woman. ‘Modron told me you would be here and that I might be able to help you.’

  Niamh stared for a few moments before finding her voice. The evil look, and the face she had mistaken for her mother, had rattled her.

  ‘Are you Aoife? The one Modron told me about?’

  ‘I am,’ said the woman, stepping lightly forward. Niamh noticed how her movements seemed bright and carefree. If there had been any malice in her approach it had vanished in a heart beat. ‘Delighted to meet you, Your Highness,’ she said, bowing gracefully. ‘How may I help?’

  Niamh felt acutely unsure of herself. She did not know what to ask the strangely familiar woman.

  ‘Ummm. I’m not really sure,’ she said, putting her wand away. ‘I’m apparently racing in a broomstick biathlon in two days’ time but I don’t really know what I should be doing to train. Mum hasn’t given me any tips so I don’t really know what I’m meant to be doing.’

  ‘Mothers can be like that sometimes,’ said Aoife darkly. ‘But trust me. I think I can help.’

  Niamh found herself trusting the woman in red – despite the bow and quiver of red fletched arrows that hung by the woman’s side. Niamh had never seen anyone in this world using a bow and arrow. And the dragon-scale scabbard holding a ruby handled knife was worrying, though Niamh could not put her finger on why. But the woman was offering to help and that was more than her mother had done. Anger flushed her face as she felt her mother’s lack of instruction smacked of betrayal. She breathed deeply and tried to let it go. With Aoife helping this might work out after all.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Grace. Stop fidgeting!’

  Merritt scowled as Grace squirmed uneasily in her chair in the pavilion.

  ‘Keep your eyes on the catwalk. There’s a whole raft of vampires who will feel miffed if they think you aren’t paying attention. That bloodsucker Van Helsing is watching and you know he’s always looking for bad press about us.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Grace. ‘I can feel her. She’s out there right now and the children aren’t here. I’d feel better if I knew what was happening.’

  Murdock leaned forward from behind the royal pair. ‘Now is not the time to be worried about it,’ he said as soothingly as he could. ‘Brighid has our eyes. Don’t worry.’

  Grace raised her eyes skyward. The problem with plans, she thought, was they tend to work better on paper than reality ever allows them to.

  High above the lake Brighid sailed on rising thermals driven by the rapidly warming day. The lake sparkled below but the normally soothing view did nothing to calm her mind. The castle was empty of the children. She knew this because the grogoch had scoured the hallways, sneaking into places no one imagined he could reach, and covering more ground than anyone who took the creature at face value could possibly imagine. Sometimes it was useful to have eyes and ears which saw and heard things she could not. The creature would never betray Brighid’s secrets to anyone, but even Brighid felt the deception was not right – despite what was at stake.

  Brighid frowned at the gloom which covered Morrigan’s Daughter and the surrounding forests. But she was sure there was no possibility the children could have made it to that dark place without being seen. She could feel nothing of the children in that direction. Better to investigate the hills around the castle again. It didn’t matter that their broomsticks were gone; they could not have gone far without being seen. But the children were by themselves and out of sight. And that made Brighid nervous …

  ‘Is that a Fitzhollow and Hooligan?’ said Niamh, staring at Aoife’s broomstick.

  ‘It is,’ she said, swinging the broomstick up and holding it out in her hands for Niamh to inspect.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Niamh. ‘I’ve never seen anyone with one of these except our family.’

  ‘The clurichaun is choosy about those for whom he makes his wares. I have never lost a race on any broomstick made by him.’

  Niamh looked surprised. ‘Do you race often? I’ve never heard of you in the leagues.’

  Aoife smiled. ‘I don’t bother with the leagues. There isn’t anyone who can compete with me. I have other races I choose to run. I don’t like to lose.’

  Niamh felt a chill pass over her at Aoife’s words, but it was gone so fast she thought it must have been her imagination.

  ‘Why don’t you show me what you can do?’ said Aoife, mounting her broomstick and hovering in front of Niamh.

  ‘Sure,’ said Niamh. ‘But should we wait for Grady?’

  ‘No,’ said Aoife brusquely. The smile left her face for a fraction but then returned. ‘Your brother will be a distraction. I hear he can out-talk the leprechaun, so why don’t we keep this to ourselves at the moment?’

  Niamh felt uncertain but nodded. The woman seemed commanding in her presence and Niamh did not want to disappoint her. ‘Okay. Where to?’

  ‘Follow me.’

  Aoife rose swiftly away from the circle and over the trees, her boots skimming the top of them, shedding a trail of leaves behind her. Niamh promptly followed. Aoife was faster than anyone Niamh had raced with before; she found it hard to keep up with the agile witch as she ducked and dived around the treetops.
Aoife dived through a gap in the trees and Niamh followed, but found herself plunging into an empty glade. Of Aoife there was no sign. Niamh came to a halt and drifted slowly, turning to scan the forest. Trees stretched away on all sides. There were several paths she could follow but all were empty and gloomy in the extreme. An unnatural silence filled the forest and Niamh felt suddenly alone.

  A voice whispered in her ear; ‘Not bad.’

  Niamh squealed and her broomstick flew forward spilling her onto the forest floor.

  Aoife laughed as Niamh picked herself up and cast a venomous look at the witch. ‘Good! A little bit of anger. I was beginning to think the tales I had heard about you were fables.’

  ‘Having fun?’ said Niamh, fuming. She slung her leg over her broomstick again and floated closer to Aoife.

  ‘Not yet,’ said the witch calmly. ‘But I think we shall soon. Why don’t you lead the way for a little?’

  ‘I don’t know the forest,’ said Niamh. ‘Where do I go?’

  ‘It doesn’t really matter,’ said Aoife, examining a nail. Niamh noticed it was long and painted a virulent red that matched the clothing she wore. ‘Follow one of the paths. If you get lost you only need to fly above the canopy and you’ll see where the lake is. Make your way back to the circle of stone from there.’

  Niamh turned slowly around the clearing and scanned the paths which led into the forest. One looked particularly difficult, with low hanging boughs that the taller witch would have more trouble ducking around. Without any warning she urged her broomstick forward and sped down the pathway.

  Aoife smiled an evil little grin. She fingered the knife at her side before leaning forward over her broomstick and racing down the path after Niamh.

  The path ducked and dived around old boles and fallen trunks hung with moss. It wound around the lakeside, up the slope of the hill, and plunged back down towards the foreshore. Niamh risked a glance behind and saw snatches of red as Aoife drew closer. Leaning low over the front of her broomstick she willed more speed out of Hooligan’s creation. Trailing leaves from a low branch whipped at her face as she rounded another corner. Up ahead the path grew wider with patches of light showing where the canopy grew thin. Niamh threw her broomstick around the slight bend that took her into the next straight and accelerated again. She glanced over her shoulder again but the path behind was clear.