Circles of Seven

by Bryan Davis

  “I think I know the place,” Shiloh continued. “Why don’t you take me instead?

  “Shut up, wench!” When he arrived at the portal, he released Ashley’s mouth and yanked back a fistful of her hair. “I heard you yapping to that machine. Give the order! Open the portal!”

  Walter saw Ashley’s eyes shift his way as he crawled up to the intruder’s side. He nodded and flashed another “OK” sign at her.

  Ashley’s voice rattled, shaking almost beyond recognition. “La . . . Larry. Gi . . . give Apollo the . . . the signal.”

  “Ashley, my AI programming suggests that you are suddenly distressed. I am switching to high security mode.”

  “Karen!” Ashley screamed. “Switch Larry to manual! Now!”

  “Sure thing, Boss.”

  Holding his breath, Walter rose slowly behind Ashley’s captor.

  “Whew!” Karen said. “Got it just in time. He’s now on vocal override.”

  Walter lifted his hand toward the man’s head. His timing had to be perfect.

  Ashley’s throat squeezed almost completely shut. “Larry,” she choked out, “Flash . . . Apollo.”

  A splash of brilliance sprinkled across the grass, drawing a rectangle from just above the ground up to Ashley’s waist. The man unzipped his cloak in front and began to wrap it around her body as he edged toward the portal.

  Walter snatched off the man’s hood and shoved him backwards toward the glowing rectangle. He wrenched Ashley away as the man toppled to the grass, his head striking the electromagnetic barrier. The intruder writhed on the ground, shrieking.

  Walter pulled Ashley close and shut his eyes as a series of pops and sizzles overwhelmed the man’s dwindling screams.

  The professor shouted, “Go Walter! Before the portal closes!”

  Walter opened his eyes. The professor and Marilyn were dragging the intruder’s body away by the ankles, and the portal window had shrunk to half its original size. Walter squeezed Ashley’s hand and dropped down to all fours. As he crawled ahead, Ashley called out, her tears streaming, “You can tell me any jokes you want, Walter.” She began sobbing. “Any time you want.”

  Walter gave her one last “OK” signal before covering his hands with his sleeves. He then lowered his head, and scurried through the portal in a splash of sparks.

  Billy straightened his body, straddling Apollo on the feed store porch. Bonnie lay curled in a fetal position at his feet, one wing wedged under her side. The electrified door sizzled nearby, drawing chaotic ripples of light across Bonnie’s sweatshirt.

  Billy lifted Excalibur and tried to summon the beam. It hadn’t worked against Palin, so who could tell if it would work now? But he had to know. Without the sword, Apollo was his only option.

  After a brief electrical spurt, Excalibur burst with light, its laser shooting up and burning a hole through the porch ceiling. After a sigh of relief, he stooped, trying to figure out how to carry Bonnie without zapping her.

  Apollo suddenly flashed at Billy’s feet, blinding his eyes. He dove over Bonnie’s body, keeping the sword’s light safely away. The scene around him shattered into shards of light, as if someone had broken a huge glass window with the old town’s image painted on the surface. The pieces crumbled, dropping out of sight, leaving behind a new scene, steep mountainsides that plunged into a narrow valley.

  Billy lifted himself from Bonnie’s body and looked all around. What happened? I didn’t push Apollo’s button! He knelt on a gigantic flat rock at the low point of a mountain pass. White vapor clung to the mountainsides, like thin clouds struggling to scale the rocky crags. A rock-filled gully led into the heart of the pass where two mountains formed a V, leaving barely enough room for a man to walk, much less a man who had to carry a dead girl.

  A cool breeze dried Billy’s cheeks. His chest heaved, cutting off his breath, leaving him only rhythmic spasms. The urge to just sit and cry was overwhelming, but he had to go on. Bonnie’s only hope lay in a liar’s dubious promise, but as fragile as it was, even a skeleton of hope was better than none at all.

  He looked all around the flat rock for Apollo. The strange device had sparked new hope. It proved that Ashley was somehow tracking their progress. She had sent them a message from their own world, a ticket to a high-tech, interdimensional bus ride home, but now their link was broken. Apollo was gone.

  Billy clenched his teeth. This was too much to take! Nobody said his mission would be impossible! Nobody said Bonnie would die!

  He pushed his hand through his unnaturally long hair, now drenched with sweat. He placed his palms on his cheeks. Still warm and puffy. He reached across his chest and grabbed his rock hard biceps. Hauntingly strange!

  He gasped for breath. With his chest heaving like a wild animal’s, he didn’t even feel like the same person anymore; he felt like his whole body had morphed into a hideous creature.

  So where should he go? Was this the seventh circle?

  A light glimmered through the narrow opening in the mountains and disappeared, like the sun striking the mirror of a speeding car. He scooped Bonnie up again and headed for the gap, trying to follow the light, glad at least that his abnormal strength was good for something. As he entered the mountain pass, the two slopes seemed like a pair of hands poised to slap together at any second and smash him like a pesky housefly.

  Pebbles and grit tumbled down as he navigated the narrow path. He had to walk at an angle to keep Bonnie’s head from striking the side. Sure, she was dead, but he couldn’t bear to let a hair of her head scrape against the rocks.

  After several minutes the path opened into a wide ledge that overlooked a deep canyon. The ledge wrapped around the mountain to his left, looking like a protruding bottom lip from a gigantic rocky face. With careful steps, he followed the lip, keeping his eyes wary for the glimmer. Something had to cause it, and maybe it, too, had gone this way. There really wasn’t any other way to go.

  He rounded a curve, and a bridge came into view, an arching span of stone with waist-high parapets on either side, each wall notched with a series of square cogs that resembled a row of rocky molars. The bridge crossed the canyon, ending at another ledge protruding from the mouth of a massive cleft in the opposite mountainside.

  He gazed down at the valley to the left of the bridge. Morning sunshine cast bright rays across the bridge and down into the depths, illuminating a dry gully filled with strangely shaped skeletons. With some of the skeletons partially intact, he recognized their form—long necks, spiny ridges riding on thick backbones, and remnants of leg bones, narrow skulls, rib cages, and wing structures. Dragons!

  To the right of the bridge, an enormous red stone lay impacted between the two mountains. It looked like a river dam, perhaps drying out the valley many years ago, but now it seemed that the river no longer flowed at all. Huge white letters covered the face of the boulder, rows of etched poetry. He read the words silently.

  The final circle numbers seven,

  And beasts await your sword’s command.

  The greatest danger tests your faith,

  And wisdom’s touch will make you stand.

  The bridge of faith still lies in wait,

  The narrow path of answered prayer.

  Restore the fountain from the stone,

  Regenerating souls laid bare.

  Billy pulled Bonnie’s head close and rubbed his cheek against her hair. “I wish you could see all this,” he said out loud.

  A man in a black cloak appeared from behind a solitary boulder just inside the yawning mouth of the cleft on the other side. He waved his arms frantically. “Billy! Come over here!”

  Billy hoisted Bonnie’s body a bit higher and squinted across the valley. “Sir Patrick?”

  “Yes, yes!” Patrick stepped up to the edge of the bridge. “I heard what happened to Bonnie. Bring her to me. There is still hope for her.”

  Billy put a foot on the bridge and tested his weight on it.

  “It’s sturdy!” Patrick shouted. “I
would come and help you, but it’s a one-way bridge.” He spread his fingers on an invisible wall and leaned against it. “You can come to me, but I can’t come to you.”

  Just as Billy stepped forward, a huge shadow enveloped the entire span. An enormous dragon swooped down and landed gracefully on the bridge, straddling the left parapet. His reddish brown scales reflected the sun’s glory, and his long neck curled over, placing his head in front of Billy. His red eyes flashed, and his wings beat the air like two whipping sails. “Billy! Stop! You must not cross this bridge!”

  Billy gulped. “Da . . . Dad?”

  Walter yanked off his hood and rubbed his eyes. The blinding light slowly faded away to reveal a row of deserted buildings lining a cobblestone street. He stuffed his hood into his pocket and swung his head around, quickly taking in his surroundings. Apollo sat at his feet, and a sword lay near the front wall of the nearest building. He snatched up both of them. A solitary man about a hundred yards away marched toward a horse stable. Billy didn’t seem to be anywhere around, so Walter tiptoed after the man, staying in the shadows of the buildings.

  The man disappeared through the stable’s open double doors. Walter ran up to the outer wall and inched close enough to the door to peer inside. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could see the man standing next to an eerie light that illuminated his sinister face.

  Palin!

  Walter sneaked into the stable, quiet as a stalking cat. He crept as close to the dark knight as he thought safe, and crouched, barely breathing.

  Palin squatted in front of a short barrel. A glowing statuette stood on top, a feminine figure, about a foot tall, with a long, flowing dress. Its arms were spread out as if making supplication, and its head was angled upward. Walter swallowed a gasp. The statuette moved! Its arms waved in jerky motions like a movie projection with missing frames, and its lips seemed to be forming words.

  Walter crawled closer and pressed his ear between two crates. The statuette’s voice poured out a mixture of sweetness and poison. “I keep you here, my dear Palin, for my good pleasure. I know letting young Arthur win your little swordplay wounded your pride, but I care nothing about that. The fact that he thinks he defeated you fulfills my purpose, and you will have another chance to take your revenge. Very soon he will deliver the virgin bride to me, and I will have my hostiam. After that, you can slice him to pieces for all I care.”

  “What if he doesn’t deliver her? What will you do?”

  “He will deliver her. How can he not trust his own father?”

  “But did you foresee Patrick’s interference?”

  “I expected Merlin’s fools to meddle somehow, but it will not matter. You see, every test in the circles actually works in my favor. If Bannister fails, Merlin’s plans to revive his precious menagerie in the seventh circle will also fail. If the young king succeeds, he will be bursting with pride, making him perfectly ripe for harvesting the girl from his arms. You will see.”

  “And when do I get to skewer the mongrel pup?”

  “Patience! I want our victory to be as sweet as possible. When I take over the girl’s body, I will pronounce the boy’s death sentence myself. Won’t it be a delight for Billy Bannister to hear the command for his death from the lips of Bonnie Silver, his prophetic bride?”

  Palin leaned his head back and laughed. “Oh, yes! Perfect! I can see his face now! And he will die believing he was forsaken by the one he held most dear!” He laughed again, almost cackling with pleasure. “Morgan, your plan makes me feel positively alive again!”

  Walter strangled the sword’s hilt. With his jaw locked tight, he was ready to leap out and hack that hyena’s head off with a single swipe. But he had to wait. He had to find a way to warn Billy, and attacking Palin now would ruin everything.

  The statuette continued. “Come, then. We will plunge together into the seventh circle and prepare to receive our army. The Watchers will rule the earth again!”

  Palin straightened his body and closed his eyes. Walter retrieved his hood and pulled it over his head, grabbing up Apollo and the sword as he rose to his feet. A stream of light poured out of the statuette and shot around the room dozens of times, creating a blinding vortex of radiant energy, like a tornado of lightning.

  Hot fingers grabbed Walter’s frame, knifing through him like electric sabers. He cried out as the flashing cyclone lifted him into its swirl and flushed him through the floor. Hurtling feet first, he zoomed down a rollercoaster of light, rushing wind trying to snatch away his hood as he bit the material to keep it in place.

  After a few seconds, the rocketing plummet slowed, and the swirl of light placed Walter on solid ground as gently as an old farmer would set down a newborn chick. Being numbed from the electric jolt, he couldn’t feel Apollo and the sword still clenched in his fingers. He set them down and jerked the hood off. With long strokes, he tried to rub feeling back into his hands and arms while he scanned the area.

  He spotted Palin, walking away on a ledge, treading lightly over a carpet of pebbles. A steep mountain rose to his left, a deep canyon plunged to his right, and rocky terrain lay all around. Seconds later, the dark knight disappeared into a yawning archway in the mountainside. In the opposite direction, far in the distance, a bridge crossed the canyon. Walter bit his lip. No time to check that out. I gotta follow Palin!

  He grabbed Apollo and the sword and headed for the archway. The ledge was level enough, but a layer of talus littered the path. His shoes crunched down on the sand and pebbles, forcing him to tiptoe to mute the noise.

  When he reached the mouth of the cave, he flattened himself against the side, creeping in inch by inch. His eyes adjusted slowly. Two forms took shape. One was obviously Palin. The other was more slender, a bit taller, and seemed to be wearing a dress. Both had their backs to the cave entrance.

  Walter leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. The statuette! But now she was normal size, and the only light surrounding her came from the rising sun’s beams that splashed on the cave’s vestibule. Hmmm. He called her Morgan back at the stable. I’ve heard that name somewhere before.

  Morgan and Palin leaned over, peering into a wide hole, and smatterings of their conversation trickled into Walter’s ears. He sneaked as close as he dared and listened. Morgan’s voice echoed off the rock walls. “Don’t be ashamed, Palin. Viewing Tartarus for the first time would make any man tremble, and I understand your frailties. It is difficult for you to gaze upon utter hopelessness.”

  “Yet they have endured it for thousands of years!” Palin exclaimed. “Your husband must be amazing.”

  “Now you understand why I have gone through so much to get him out. It has taken all these years for my plans to come together, but it will be worth it.”

  “What if the mongrel won’t come?” Palin asked. “Do you have a plan B?”

  “I do. But don’t worry. He will come. He will trust his father, and Clefspeare will deliver his son and Bonnie directly to me. Then, when Billy gives the girl up, I will be able to possess her.” Morgan swung away from the hole, her silky dress spinning with her, and took several steps toward Walter’s hiding place. Walter pressed his body against the wall and held his breath. She set her hands on her hips, her eyes fixed on Palin. “It’s time you had a dragon history lesson. You and Devin battled them all your lives, but did he ever tell you why he lusted for their blood?”

  “Is that a trick question?” Palin rolled his fingers into a fist. “Because they’re evil.”

  Morgan turned and glided back to the edge of the hole. “Oh, yes. They were evil, at least by your definition of the word. Back when you first strapped on your sword, most dragons did the deeds of their spiritual father, the one to whom I bow the knee.” She spread out her arms. A shaft of light rose from the floor, creating a flat, oval disk that hovered over the opening like a vertical flying saucer. She curled her finger, gesturing for Palin to join her. “I have a story to tell you. It’s time you learned the mysteries behind my power.”

/>   The disk flared with a burst of light and slowly transformed into a moving image, a winged humanoid creature with flashing blue eyes and a dazzling white robe walking among an adoring crowd of humans. Its shining head towered at least two feet above its worshipers.

  Walter rubbed both eyes with his fists. Is that an angel?

  Morgan stood beside the display, like a teacher ready to give a lecture. “Long before your day,” she began, “when the Watchers came to earth and united with us, we had to purge the skies of dragons in order to rule the world, for they were the only race with the power to destroy the Watchers.”

  The oval screen switched to three dragons flying over a canyon. A river of flame shot from their mouths and nostrils and slammed against the angel. The angel absorbed the fire and tripled in size, finally exploding into thousands of sparks of light.

  “The ensuing battle was cataclysmic,” Morgan continued, “igniting the great deluge that flooded the earth.” The screen filled with images of floodwaters ravaging homes and dragging people, along with the shining angels, into raging rivers. Morgan’s voice rose to match the terror of her story. “The rush of water swept the Watchers into the abyss, into the depths of Tartarus, where they have been imprisoned ever since, but Noah rescued two juvenile dragons in his ark, allowing them to multiply once again.”

  The screen went blank. Morgan took a deep breath and placed a hand over her heart. “In the meantime, we, the wives of the Watchers, sank in the floodwaters and perished. Yet, because we had become united with the Watchers, a few of us survived as wandering wraiths, immortal, but with no hope of life beyond our cursed existence.”

  Morgan gazed into the dim cave, a bare glow from the entrance illuminating her gaunt face. Walter held his breath again and squashed his body against the wall harder than ever. Now was no time to get caught in the clutches of the black queen of Spooksville.

  Morgan placed a tender hand on Palin’s head. “As you know, the other wives bore offspring to the Watchers, a race of supermen sometimes called the Nephilim. They also died in the tempest, but the flood could not destroy their spirits. They lived on and inhabited the new brood of dragons, conquering their minds and controlling their actions.”