Concentric Circles

by Aithne Jarretta

  Steve surveyed the grand entrance with a practiced eye. “I’m not going just yet.”

  The rear of the pawn chain is the weakest. Humm.

  “Suit yourself.” Myra mounted the stairs, taking them with exuberance, racing for the top.

  “Nice,” Steve muttered under his breath, watching her progress, cloak billowing like black wings. “Like a raven taking flight.” He spun on his heel and approached Meekal’s position near the archway. “There’s gotta be a bloody land-line here somewhere. Modern day conveniences within archaic destitution.” He shivered, glanced back over his shoulder and entered the narrow passageway.

  Meekal grinned and shoved against the archway. Stone moved. The open arch closed tight behind the man.

  Steve roared and raced to the wall. Wand drawn, he tapped the stones. Nothing happened.

  In a rush of forward motion, Meekal closed off two other doors. Got cha. Pawn captured.

  “Dammit!” Steve roared like an angry tiger and spun, clearly with the intent to wind-ride out. He bounced against the ceiling and landed sprawled, arms and legs twisted akimbo.

  “Ooh. Ouch,” Meekal said, wincing, knowing exactly what that felt like. “Tough luck, ole man. You need to stay right where you are. Be back later, justice in tow. Your time’s just beginning. The Montclair family deserves more after what you did to their son. Expendable pawns, indeed. Well, gotta go. Myra’s expecting me.”

  Steve moaned, shifted position and passed out.

  Meekal moved back to the grand entrance and jaunted up the wall to the second story. He knew Myra went to Syther’s library. “Whoa. Maybe not.”

  Myra, at the end of the corridor, well past the library door, glanced around with distinct furtiveness. Returning her attention to the end wall, she tapped a niche containing a display of an antique chest plate, forearm vambraces and leather gauntlets, muttering under her breath, “One, two buckle my shoe.”

  Meekal snorted.

  She jumped, startled. “Who’s that?”

  “Boo.”

  “That’s not funny,” Myra said in a hissing tone, pointing a wand wrapped in copper and tipped with an obsidian crystal point.

  “It’s me.” He pushed on a stone. It moved outward toward the nervous woman.

  Eyes wide she stared at the protruding grey stone, backing away and shaking her head in denial of the vision.

  “Pawns are the first to fall.” Meekal added a ghostly moan to his recitation. “You look for a door, yet scamper in fear from a moved wall? Ha!”

  She snapped her fingers sharply, the sound reverberating in the corridor. Her wand glowed, a brilliant black light emanating from its end.

  “What’s that supposed to do? Reveal me?” Meekal laughed. “Intended black magic won’t work.”

  “Three, four open the door.”

  “Isn’t it supposed to be, three, four, close the door?” Meekal taunted.

  “Open!” Myra’s voice rang in desperation. “I know there’s a door here!”

  “Open sesame.” He chortled. “What do you seek?”

  “This is no joking matter! I need to get to the Circular Chamber!”

  “No.”

  Warning alarms sounded, blaring like a bomb raid siren. Somewhere in the distance, a hound howled mournfully.

  Myra gasped and whirled, her expression one of abject terror. Her hood billowed down, revealing gossamer strands of hair which floated on static electricity generated by the fear of discovery. She paused, trying to get her ragged breathing in control. “Open please.”

  Syther’s roar filled the upper levels of the castle accompanied by a loud crash in the library.

  “It’s time.” Meekal intoned.

  Myra hit the wall niche with one hand, waved her wand recklessly with the other. Nothing happened.

  “Swish and flick,” he said.

  No door appeared.

  She pirouetted and took off running.

  “Oops, you aren’t going anywhere.” Meekal spun his hand in a spiral. A tapestry, depicting the classical foxhunt, wavered off the wall and engulfed Myra within a tight bond. Meekal waved his hand. She landed gently next to her slumbering companion, Steve.

  Meekal touched the side of his nose, and then eyed the two stone figures prone on the floor from his location as though gazing through an opened window. “It’s just temporary, being frozen into stone will preserve evidence and pause the time in your lives.”

  * * * * * *

  Amidst screeching alarms, howling, fiendish hounds and a roaring Syther, Meekal gazed at the upper corridor. “Guess this is it.”

  Syther burst through the door, banging its wrought iron handle against wall.

  Meekal grimaced and rubbed his left elbow. The pain wasn’t as bad now; once again, something had changed. He decided not to focus on the new sensation. The back of Syther’s head was much more interesting. He followed at a distance. Why not skirr down to the maze?

  Syther rushed through another door, raced across the chamber and flung the carved double doors of an old armoire open.

  “Ah,” Meekal said. “Weapons.” He craned his neck to see what Syther sought. Objects of magical origin flew at random, tossed over Syther’s shoulder. His head confined within the large wardrobe, he muttered angry, indiscernible words. Finally, Syther straightened.

  “Oh boy,” Meekal stared at the weapon Syther now held aloft. He swallowed, turned on a castle breath and headed for maze.

  [22] Chambers of the Soul

  Moisture blurred Shayla’s vision as she dropped her gaze to the markings on the stones. Meekal’s words, “I’ll be back soon,” spoken from the walls around her filled the empty places in her psyche long ignored. Everything wavered through a curtain of unshed tears, and then returned to focus with newfound clarity. To the left of the Eihwaz rune the floor bore the Pictish glyph depicting the cat. “Do you suppose this cat is representative of Sheitan?”

  “That is a possibility.” Neveous’ voice sounded thoughtful.

  The marking on the right was a warrior on his steed. Just past it, ripples carved in the stone gave the impression of ocean waves.

  Strange, they remind me of the spiral trim on our robes during the ward strengthening. She paused in her thoughts and decided to prepare for meditation. Sitting before the marked stones, she pulled the hematite and flint out of the pocket of her jacket and placed them on the floor. She added a blue kyanite stone for clearing and balancing.

  She sensed Neveous taking up position behind her. CIARANLEXISS, now in her joined palms, felt warm between her chilled fingers. Drawing her focus and breath in, she centered and began the journey within to the chambers of her soul.

  Awareness of her energy systems came to the forefront of her mind’s eye. The electrical impulses sent its charges through her, head to toe. She allowed the corners of her mouth to rise in appreciation of the opportunity to know herself so well. Next, she focused on her blood flow. The rhythmic impulse carried its magical essence to her.

  Brightness permeated the surroundings, assaulting her vision. She squinted at its intensity and shook off a sense of growing confusion. As though from a great distance, she heard Neveous.

  “Go with the flow, Shayla.” Ageless humor edged his voice.

  She moved forward. Her intention held no hesitation. She bypassed the Eihwaz rune, waved her hand over the cat glyph, and then stepped directly onto the spiraling rippled stone.

  The bottom dropped out of her world. Instinct tried to kick in, however, faith won. A loud splash resounded and she gasped despite the warm water. She laughed and kicked upward as though swimming. “Hello, Naias.”

  “We’re always here, Shayla,” Naias’ voice blended in perfect harmony with Prester’s.

  “Thanks,” Shayla said, raising her arms as she rose to the surface. Emergence from the water, returned her to the maze where Neveous waited.

  “The conjoined spirals are water,” she said to Neveous without turning around. She reached a hand forward, and he
ld her left palm open over the glyph depicting a cat. “Sheitan,” she whispered in a low tone.

  Sheitan appeared before her.

  “Hello, my black angel. It is time.”

  An angry roar penetrated the maze chamber. In one fluid motion, Shayla stood, facing Syther.

  “That’s my panther!”

  “Shayla! Be careful, he has the Ignis Fatuus!” Meekal yelled, returning just in time to see Syther’s arrival.

  The Staff of Life, lit brightly in glowing violet, swung around.

  Syther ducked and waved his wand. “Scathergal!”

  Shayla grunted, wondering why he always used that curse. This time, however, black and green fireballs flew from the end of the bone wand.

  “Ugh!” she yelled, ducking the flames. She hit the stones with a loud crack and a holler. Her wrist broke at impact with the floor. Pain and the resounding echo of snapping bone caused a shuddering groan. She rolled away feeling surprise as Sheitan stepped between her and Syther.

  A fierce, primal yowl penetrated the narrow maze, followed by an angry cat hissing. A mysterious blue iridescent bubble began to grow between Sheitan and Syther. At its center, the black and green flames joined into one fireball.

  Surprise welled once more, Neveous swung his staff. Her wrist tingled as though with warm air and healed.

  “Go,” Neveous said calmly, pointing to the next marked stone on the floor.

  Syther roared, “No!” Wand at the ready, a limestone white wall appeared, blocking Shayla’s descent into the next chamber of her quest.

  “Evaporate,” she hissed, pointing CIARANLEXISS with intention. The wall dissolved into white dust, vanishing before it touched the stone floor.

  “Shayla, look out! He has the Ignis Fatuus lantern. It can suck you into its illusion!”

  Shayla rolled and slipped into the next rune portal, falling through the air as though flying. Everything that passed her vision recalled memories. One after another, she passed scenes of everyday life. She landed solidly, yet invisible in her mother’s kitchen.

  Tension riddled the atmosphere. Claire Brinawell wiped her hands on a towel and hung it on the rack next to the sink. “Shayla, why to do you think you have to go?”

  “Mom, I can’t explain it. I’m pulled or compelled. I’ll be fine. Honest.”

  “But across the ocean. On the other side of the world?”

  In the memory, Shayla stepped forward and hugged her mother. “We’re family. You know I love you. I’ll be back.”

  The sight of her mother’s tight embrace around her brought more tears to Shayla’s eyes. The warming sensation on her cheeks as they spilled forth expanded her journey further into the past.

  Smack!

  Shayla moved forward into the scene. Messy black curls hid the face of a tiny victim of physical abuse. “Stop that!” Shayla roared, while acknowledging her magical presence was unknown to the angry woman and frightened child.

  “I know you did it!” the woman screeched. Smack!

  “No! No, I didn’t,” the child wailed through sobs of desperate fear.

  “Back you go to the convent! Devil’s spawn!”

  Round blue eyes appeared between errant curly locks, pleading for mercy.

  Shayla gasped and stepped between the raging woman and small child—her mother. “I didn’t know,” she said, breathing heavily. “Stop this instant!” she yelled, expelling an elemental breath and swinging her arm as though to thrust the woman away.

  Roaring projected from a wide-open mouth as the woman was flung across the room. A large mirror shattered, sending reflective shards everywhere.

  Young Claire Brinawell scampered across the braided rug on thin spindly arms and legs, and then escaped through an open door.

  “Mom!” Shayla yelled and stepped forward.

  The room vanished into nothingness.

  Shaken by the vision and its abrupt end, Shayla stood immobilized. Blackness shrouded her.

  “EVEN IN DARKNESS, LIGHT MAY PENETRATE,” CIARANLEXISS said, vibrating with potent energy.

  She tightened her fingers around his soothing presence. “I never realized how awful it must have been for her. Your magic spans time, is that why the woman flew across the room? Or was it mom’s magic?”

  “YER LOVE SAVED HER IN THAT MOMENT. IT DID NOT END SO WELL THE FIRST TIME.”

  Shayla swallowed the heavy lump in her throat. “We can’t change the past.”

  “ONLY ITS ESSENCE.”

  “Gagh! Enough! How do I get out of this black hole?”

  CIARANLEXISS chuckled. “OPEN YER EYES.”

  The simple movement sent Shayla into a spiraling fall. Birl. Not again. Enough already. Shayla spun back to the present, landing in the maze corridor with a grunt.

  Neveous, still doing battle with Syther, reached out and touched her sleeve. Syther’s anger was the last thing she heard before a solid carved oak door appeared. She inhaled sharply. “What was the point of all that?”

  “YOUR MOTHER IS WORRIED ABOUT YOU. CAN’T YOU FEEL HER PULL ACROSS THE ENERGY LINES?” Neveous eyed the door as he spoke. “T HE CHAMBERS OF YOUR SOUL—FILL THEM WITH LOVE.”

  A sigh rose from her belly. “Yes. I never knew how bad it was. I do love her,” She added, and then stepped closer to the door. “How do we get Meekal out? Are you all right, babe?”

  “Aye. I’m fine. Syther has the lantern of Ignis Fatuus. We have to get it from him. Be careful because if he sucks you into it, I don’t know how to get you out.”

  Neveous pointed the staff at the door. “We cannot penetrate the castle magic. Syther has been weakened enough that the Staff of Life can. Don’t worry about the lantern, Meekal. I know how to handle the foolish wielder of illusion.”

  “If you say so,” Meekal answered.

  The lion head gargoyle on the head of Neveous’ staff moved through the heavy oak. Black sparks shot from the staff’s end. Neveous clasped it, his knuckles white. “Be ready, Shayla.”

  “Ready for what?”

  Bang!

  The loud explosion propelled her through the air. She was only vaguely aware of landing on a stone. “Ouch!” How did I get back here? The Rune of Perth rippled black water beneath her. Then she fell. Ugh. Bloody hell. Not again.

  The motion of the air picked up around her. As though she were in the center of a tornado, everything spun while gravity propelled her downward. Visions of more memories flashed by like a movie. She tried to ride the wind. It didn’t work. Instead, she sent her hands out like wings.

  The red feathers of a cardinal brushed her cheek. Amazement pushed the chaos of movement away. Somehow, she knew this bird. It frequented her backyard feeder and chattered at her often.

  The power of home, her mother’s love, and the loyalty of friends wove a tapestry of protection and security around her. It melded with her pendant, pooling heat at the base of her throat.

  The cardinal sang its song, blinked its black eyes and took flight toward the wild wind rushing past. The red feathers disappeared, blending with the web of power.

  Shayla stared, mesmerized. As if a single thread connected it all, everything melded into one. That was what she saw as memories flew past. Some were vague recollections. Others, fierce reminders. She sobbed when Onyx passed. Her black lab, pet from early childhood to late teens barked happily and lunged for her. On impact, they landed abruptly in a wooded grove.

  The air around her felt light against her skin like the touch of butterfly wings. Thoughts of the divine love she experienced at the Vesica Pisces Pool comforted her. This time when she landed, it was a floating sensation. She turned, surveying her surroundings.

  A placid loch, surface skimmed with iridescent moon light, stretched into the black night. Highland craighs stood in silhouette to the backdrop of sky and stars. The beauty around Shayla astounded her with its magical essence. She witnessed the miracle of seeing the universal magical power with her own eyes.

  Surrounded by soft floating lights, similar to the on
es depicted in highland folklore, a beautiful, black haired woman sat on a stone next to the water’s edge. The moonlight glistened, pinpoints of movement upon the rippling water. The unknown woman smiled at Shayla.

  “Hello. I’ve been expecting you.”

  “You have?”

  “Aye. While Syther is knowledgeable about runes, he failed to take into account your bonding with Naias and Prester. For most, the Perth rune would prove a formidable obstacle. That’s why he used water as a block to the path of his power. He projects his own fear upon those who attempt to thwart his plan.”

  “How do you know about Naias and Prester?”

  Musical laughter graced the glen around them. The woman opened her palm and guided Shayla’s gaze to the loch. Whispers emitted from the surface. Understanding washed over Shayla. “They’ve told you to expect me. Where are we?”

  The black markings upon the woman’s face moved, revealing a touch of sadness in her pearly features. “Once, this was my home. I don’t come here often. In fact, it is your power that mingles our magic here. Syther cannot penetrate the wards of this place. So, even though you traveled through his magical rune, your subconscious chose our meeting place. Your power grows by the moment.”

  Shayla stepped forward. Onyx whimpered. “Shush. I’m fine.” She surveyed the blackness around them. Eyes now accustomed to the dark, she made out several outlines of buildings. “This is Raven’s Gate?”

  “Aye.”

  “Meekal told me a little about it. That must make you Brenna.”

  “Aye,” Brenna said, a soft smile gracing her full lips. “It is safe to go back, Shayla. Meekal has returned to the maze. Syther is there doing battle with Neveous.” She gestured toward CIARANLEXISS. “Be prepared. You have come into contact with the Unknowable. Go forward into this fray with confidence. You have now funded the power to avert blockage and defeat.”