The Summoning

by Robert Wingfield

  “She’s running some sort of sorcery,” said Fantasia. “It’s taken away the influence of the knife that cut me. I’m okay. I’m feeling much better. So much for your claptrap, Doctor. Why am I cured?”

  “I have no idea...” Halliday slumped.

  “What do we do, Ma’am?” The driver was idly dabbing his foot on the accelerator.

  “I actually don’t know,” said Fantasia. “Has she lifted the spell for me, or is there something else going on? Dare I interrupt and risk the chance of the injury returning, or was it an illusion all the time. Is that why it couldn’t be cured?”

  “I wish I knew, but how do you feel, Fanty?” asked the doctor.

  “Very weak,” said Fantasia.

  “Your blood is still on the dressings,” he said. “You need time to recover from the amount you’ve lost.”

  “Ma’am, what do you want me to do?” asked Felucca again. “Drive on or stay here?”

  Fantasia sighed. “There’s hope. I suppose that once I’ve got my strength back, I could repeat the ritual. This changes everything, but I will need time and the energy to complete my work. Drive on, Mr Felucca. Let’s see what the bitch is up to. If we catch her, we can always keep her locked away until the time is right again.”

  “And we stop her doing any more of her trickery?” The driver grinned.

  “Probably, to be on the safe side,” agreed Fantasia.

  “You must come inside the circle,” Ankerita pleaded.

  “All my strength... gone.”

  “You have to try!” Ankerita sounded desperate. “If I put my hand through the barrier, the whole spell collapses. It could kill me as the energy discharges. Jo, you must!”

  “It’s too late. The pain...” Jo folded up. Her arm reached out feebly, but not far enough. “Anna!” She slumped as life deserted her.

  Ankerita shook her head hopelessly. She was watching her friend die. Could she risk leaving the circle and dragging her in? “If there’s no other way, the circle has to be broken.” She took a step, and then froze. An image formed beside Jo’s body: a figure in dark robes, face in shadow.

  “Francis,” breathed Anna. “I thought you had gone.”

  “I am called by death.” The monk was impassionate. “I am needed tonight, but it is not time for her.” He lifted Jo under the arms, and carried her easily towards the pentacle. “Take her.” He pushed her arm through the curtain of light. Ankerita took hold and pulled her friend through.

  “Thank you.”

  “We will meet again.” Francis smiled, touched the side of his head in a mock salute, and vanished.

  “Not too soon, I hope.” Ankerita set Jo’s limp body gently on the tiles, and arranged her friend so that her head was at the top of the star, and her arms and legs were stretched out towards the points. Jo was almost weightless; she was becoming transparent, as energy drained from her into the pentacle, living or finally passed on? It amounted to the same thing, inside the circle.

  The light of all five planets blazed unnaturally through the broken window. The colours around the pentacle merged and began to pulse with energy. “I think it is time.” Ankerita picked up the book again, and completed the invocation.

  “Oh Guardians, protect this woman, show her the love around, by divine will, from sky to ground, from stone to stone, give her the power of life.”

  “You, Jo, are filled with the shining light of the angels, you are a Star of God. Great God and all you spirits of love who surround my friend, bring her the ultimate of blessings. Be with her now and forever.”

  Ankerita held her breath. There was pressure building up around her head, as though a huge weight was being forced upon her from all sides. It built and built, until she could hold it no longer. She screamed with agony. The room plunged into darkness.

  25. The Summoning

  T

  he blackness cleared in silence. Jo had been watching events as though she was floating above the room. Now she was back again, in her ruined body, inside the circle. She whimpered with pain, and looked for her friend. Ankerita was still beside her, surrounded by a pulsating aura of fire, almost too bright to look at. Her face was black, and her eyes glowed a demonic red. Jo shuddered. The girl from the sixteenth century, who used to be so frail and defenceless, now terrified her. She felt for the reassuring hardness of the tiles beneath her hands. They were still there, but so cold. She reached to grab Ankerita’s coat from outside the circle and pulled it around her, grateful for the warmth. She wanted to call out to her friend, but try as she might, nothing came out.

  “Hang on, kid.” Ankerita’s reassurance came into her head. “Nearly done. I only have to finish the final stages of the Summoning, and we are complete.”

  A spark appeared in the crystal-ball. Ankerita’s face changed. It became a dull moon, reflecting the increasing glow from the ball she was holding. Her eyes flashed with white light.

  “I summon all the spirits of the dead.” Ankerita started to sing a low melody. Jo had never heard her voice like this before; it was smooth and sweet, uplifting and enchanting. She shuddered with a strange ecstasy as she listened, enthralled. The song progressed, and it seemed there were more people joining in, voices in the air. Strains of musical instruments added to the refrain, until Jo could hardly distinguish her friend’s voice from the rest. The Book of Ghosts on the floor beside Ankerita also began to glow; its pages turning, by themselves.

  More images: shades of people, all joining in the melody. Ankerita’s power was building; she was calling all the elements together as the chorus built:

  “Unending Life – The Summoning.”

  Jo knew that was what Ankerita was attempting to bring into the pentacle. As she trembled, the power of the spirits flowed into her. Her pain faded as the music filled her head.

  The song began to form distinct words. Jo saw the anger in Ankerita, directed towards the people who had hounded her. She saw the frustration of so many souls across the world, the wrongdoings, the greed, the stupidity, all preventable if people would simply think of others. Jo understood the people; they were mere children, but with deadly toys that could wipe out the planet. She saw that peace was possible; it was so simple. Each individual could change the world for the better, if they tried. She saw the desire in Ankerita to do that; the woman was an angel herself; she seemed to blend perfectly with the shades around her.

  Ankerita’s face, terrible in its beauty, began to drift. The pain wracked Jo again, and she felt, not only her own agony, but that of so many others: in ghettoes, in war zones, in empty lanes at the dead of night, in unmarked graves. Each one its own story, but the message from them was still the same, “Have courage to think for yourself... make a difference.”

  Jo was suddenly flooded with comprehension. She felt a desire to live, to achieve her dreams. She had to give something back. There were sick people who needed help; there were lonely people who needed... not comfort, she realised, but a direction, a reason to live, a purpose and a goal. Everybody needed help in some way, and by getting that, they would help others, and so it would escalate. But it was mad. Darkness folded around her, as the negativity entered her mind. What could one person do against so much? What could one person who was dying actually do? There was so little time, and she had wasted her life. The darkness swirled around her. She lost sight of her friend, but the song went on. Jo sagged as her spirit ebbed and her body began to succumb to the disease.

  “You haven’t wasted your time.” Ankerita’s voice brought her back. “You have been the best friend to me. You have dragged me though my worst trials. You have made me realise that my life has been prolonged to bring something new to this world. The rediscovery of the artefacts has released a different understanding. Things will adjust. With knowledge comes hope, with hope comes action, and with action comes the change that is needed. The world can be saved, purified, and you will be part of it.”

  Jo felt the tears form. She tried to sp
eak, but the spell was strong. Still no sound would come. She shivered; her body had become deadly cold again; the phantoms drew energy from her, as they struggled to manifest; what were they doing to Ankerita?

  “You are my loved one, my sister, my friend,” came the calm of Ankerita’s voice. “Now feel the strength of the Summoning flow into you.”

  Ankerita’s arms were around her. Jo felt the power, as she was wrapped more tightly in the coat. “What are your fears?” The voice, deep and soothing, whispered in her ear, but it was not Ankerita’s voice; Jo was now being held by somebody else.

  She saw her life spin past: all the terrors she had faced, from being left up a tree as a child, by her brothers, to the discovery that she was dying, to the latest, the swirling apparitions in this room. She tried to scream.

  “You are not afraid,” said the voice. “You can defeat these fears. You are strong.”

  Jo felt warm lips kiss hers. Life and strength started to flow into her, and the terrors began to abate.

  “Who are you?” Her mind tried to reach out to the entity, the closeness that was filling her soul.

  “I have been summoned for you. My name is Nithaiah. I am to be your first guide and your guardian. The lady has no more need of me. You can call when you need strength and courage. Relax and grow.”

  The ghosts returned, filling the room and drifting slowly around each other in hypnotic dance: spirits of people long dead, spirits of people she recognised, spirits of people she knew: family, friends and others. They were all smiling. They are not phantoms, she thought, but angels; they are all angels.

  The music continued, and this time it was the requiem she had heard in her mind for so long, but not realised it was there. “The song the ancients bring, an end to pain and suffering, the invocation that will grant eternal life... The Summoning!”

  Jo saw Ankerita standing over her, the crystal-ball raised in her hands, and then the ball was dashed to the ground beside her head. There was a terrible crack as the crystal shattered. Jo flinched, but instead of being showered with shards of glass, the lethal slivers became shards of light. Time stood still.

  26. Last Goodbye

  T

  he Mercedes drew to a quiet halt in the abbey carpark. “We’re here, Ma’am,” said the driver.

  “I can see that,” retorted Fantasia “Let’s go and find the bitch. She’s in there. Somebody break down that gate.”

  Jo woke, and leapt to her feet. The room came into focus. She felt warm, relaxed and peaceful, and above all, free from pain. She looked for her friend, but there was nobody there. The crystal was splintered on the tiles, broken pieces of dull glass. The candles had guttered out, and of the treasures, all that remained were burn marks.

  Light from the coming dawn eased its way in through the window at the end of the room. The planets had moved on.

  Jo started. The room was not empty. Beside her was Brother Francis. He was himself again, chiselled features and bright blue eyes, that seemed to bore into her soul.

  “You can face your fears?” he said.

  “You again?” Her voice trembled, but her first thoughts were for her friend.. “What have you done with Anna?”

  “She has completed her calling. You no longer need her.”

  “You are wrong there.” Jo staggered out of the pentacle towards him, her legs threatening to give way. “Tell me.” She collapsed as she tried to grab his robe, but the monk stepped forward and caught her. Instead of feeling cold, hard and bony, he was soft, strong, and warm to the touch. He held her to him, and his strength flowed into her.

  He smiled. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready for what?” The feeling of dread gripped her again.

  “A new life.”

  “I am dying. Have you come to take me?”

  “Do you really want to give up, after all this?”

  “There is no cure for my cancer.”

  “Not in current medicine, but what Lady Ankerita has done here makes it look like bloodletting and leeches.” He sniffed. “I am moved. I cannot take your soul. All her work will be in vain if I do.”

  “Her work?”

  “Everything she has done was for you. She used her knowledge, and her skill, and her power to dispel the affliction that had gripped you.”

  “Had?” Jo gaped. “Do you mean I’m actually cured?”

  “I now see a very long life in your essence,” said Francis, “I understand. I wouldn’t have believed it possible, but the lady called on the Treasures of Albion, and used powers forgotten in ages past. She has taken a path that even Myrddin himself would not have dared to use.”

  “Myrddin? Who?”

  “You have met him already, in what you called ‘Kathartirion’. He was the first of the great enchanters, born many centuries ago. He collected the Treasures, but they fell into the wrong hands, and were wasted because of the greed of man. Only together could they be used for good. To prevent further misuse, the sorcerer reclaimed them. His skills were great; he was searching for the key to immortality. Something went wrong, and instead, it drained his essence as it healed others. He could not continue to use the artefacts, and took them away before he was forced to be warden of Kathartirion. Some of the bards said the treasures were hidden on an island to the west of Britain, but as you have seen, they were actually scattered, and some have been used by our lady tonight.”

  “I asked, where is Anna?” Jo pushed Francis away, and glanced around the room. Her voice trembled. “Are you saying she gave her life for me?”

  “It would take a sorcerer, much greater than Myrddin, to survive, I’m afraid. I realise that we, Genet and I, have been keeping her alive over the centuries for this single moment.”

  “For me? Why me.” Jo’s head was spinning.

  “I cannot see the future, but there is some significant destiny awaiting you. It was not to be your time. Lady Ankerita knew that. At least she is at peace.”

  “But I don’t want to live, if she is gone.”

  “It is too late.” The monk pulled his hood up and turned to go. “Make sure her sacrifice is not wasted. Go out there and change things. Value your life, every day, every hour; change things and make that difference.”

  “But...” Jo was talking to an empty room. Francis had gone. “Where?” she briefly wondered. “Oh, I guess his work is not done yet. There are still people out there who need a shove into the next world, one way or the other.”

  Jo regarded the chaos in the room. Of the treasures that Ankerita had collected, the stones were black and smouldering lumps. The Book had vanished. The only item intact was the coat. It was still around her shoulders. She put it on properly against the damp air of the morning. It fitted perfectly. The Coat of Padarn Beisrudd; she could remember the name, and the way it was supposed to be mould itself to one whose mind was pure. She sighed, and shuffled towards the door. There was no more pain. She could breathe without wincing. A great weight was lifted from her body.

  Her toe stirred up a pile of rubbish. On the floor were the shards of glass from the crystal ball, and a piece of paper. Jo picked it up, and was about to read the scrawl, when she heard the scuffing of gravel outside the abbey. A car had driven in to the parking ground. She had a bad feeling, and Nithaiah’s voice said, “Run!”

  “Doc, you should stay in the car,” Fantasia waited while the man in the front passenger seat got out to open the door for her.

  “Fantasia, what are you planning to do?”

  “It’s Ma’am to you,” she said absently, “and it’s best you are not party to what is going to happen. Stay there.” Her expression permitted no argument.

  Halliday sighed. “Oh Fanty, what has my little girl become?”

  “Come on, you two.” Fantasia addressed the other men. “Have you got your weapon, Mr Felucca?”

  “Do I categorically need it, Ma’am? This is only a girl we are dealing with.”

  “I’ve had enough. If yo
u get a shot, you must take it. We can collect the blood later—freeze it if necessary.”

  “Can’t we simply catch her again?”

  “Every time we do that, she gets away. There is something protecting that lady. No, the only way is to stop her permanently. We are alone. There are no witnesses.”

  “If you are sure, Ma’am,” faltered Felucca. “I’m not especially happy about gunning down a helpless kid.”

  “Give me the pistol, then.” Fantasia grabbed the weapon from him. “I’ll sort this out, once and for all. Your conscience can be clear. Go and open that building for me.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Felucca and the front seat passenger pried the gate using a crowbar and all three strode into the ruins.

  Jo heard the noise, as the entrance to the abbey was forced. “They will catch me,” she muttered, glancing at the doorway of the chapterhouse.

  “Take the window.” Nithaiah’s voice was beautifully clear, now Jo opened her mind to listen.

  “This way?” She took a breath and climbed out of the end of the building. There was a low wall, and beyond, a short stretch of grass over the footings of other structures. Jo ran to it, and easily pulled herself over; her former strength was back; it was simple to scuff down the far side, and find herself safely away from the abbey grounds. Woodland spread upwards from the walls. Jo dashed through the trees, and up the hill beyond. She pulled the coat around her as she ran. There seemed to be no signs of pursuit, but she kept on, using her newfound strength, until she reached the summit.

  The sky was reddening into a glorious sunrise; blues and pinks warmed the land. She stood and stretched her hands upwards, a blissful stillness settling on her. There was no pain—she simply felt sleepy. She sat down and her eyes closed.

  In the chapterhouse, Fantasia sifted through the remains of the spell. There was the scuffed pentacle, sticks with gutted candles, shards of glass, and burnt remains of the crystals. “I’m guessing there has been a Summoning,” she mused, “though for what, I cannot imagine. It can’t have been a demon, or you gentlemen would be toast. Something else?” Fantasia regarded her two men, dumbly awaiting orders. “Don’t simply stand there, Healey,” she said to the other man. “Go and search the grounds. The bitch can’t have got far. Find her.” She went to the window at the end of the room and looked upwards at the hill. “Is that her?” She pointed, but as she concentrated on someone toiling up the slope, the image vanished. There was nothing on the hillside.