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

by Vincent Mortimer

  ‘Easy for you to say!’ said Grady as he started to panic.

  ‘Let me do it,’ said Hep.

  ‘But!’ Grady began to protest.

  ‘No buts!’

  Grady took a breath and tried to relax. The powerful presence of Hep leaped forward and took control of the magic that lay within him to create the spell. Niamh immediately reappeared, and at that moment a broomstick came flying over the top of the trees at pace, along with a fiery bird.

  ‘That was close,’ whispered Grady.

  ‘You need more practice,’ said Niamh. ‘Now shut up!’

  The phoenix and the elf landed only metres away from the children – Murdock not even waiting until he had slowed before leaping off and running towards the circle. But the elf was running away from where Grady and Niamh stood.

  ‘No one,’ said Murdock, turning his gaze around the circle.

  ‘Someone has been here,’ said Brighid, staring at the grass leading into the centre of the circle. ‘Footsteps. Small footsteps.’

  Niamh turned to Grady and gestured skyward. Grady nodded and mounted his broomstick.

  ‘The stones feel warm,’ said Murdock, running his hands over the surface of a chipped and scarred pillar of rock.

  Brighid nodded. ‘Someone has used strong magic here. But no harm has been done. I can feel it.’

  Niamh put her fingers to her lips and nodded skyward again to Grady. This time he did not wait to hear any more of the phoenix and the elf’s conversation but, as quietly as he could, kicked gently away from the ground. Niamh did likewise and together they drifted upwards and away from the circle.

  Brighid’s head snapped around as the children rose into the sky. It seemed to Niamh that the giant bird was sniffing the air in her direction but, thankfully, it seemed to be no more than a coincidence.

  As they drifted higher the children began to accelerate. Faster they flew until the circle was left behind. Niamh glanced behind and saw Murdock and Brighid pacing the circle, but it was clear there was no pursuit from them.

  ‘That was too close,’ said Grady when he judged they were far enough away to avoid being heard.

  ‘What were you two doing while I was away?’ said Niamh through gritted teeth. ‘How did they find us?’

  ‘I found a way home, Niamh,’ said Grady calmly.

  ‘What do you mean a way home?’ said Niamh.

  ‘I mean Avalon’s End. Modron showed me the way.’

  ‘You’re crazy, Grady. We can’t go home without the elves leading the way. Dad told you that.’

  ‘I saw it, Niamh. I saw the Port Hills road and Godley Head at the end of the harbour. It was so close I could almost touch it.’

  Niamh went quiet. Home! she thought. Immediately though, she clicked into suspicious mode.

  ‘Why would Modron show you that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Grady. ‘It felt like she was showing off.’

  ‘Modron doesn’t seem like the type of person … troll to show off. But I do have to thank her for introducing me to Aoife.’

  ‘Did you learn anything?’ said Grady, glancing behind again to see if there was any sign of pursuit. The skies were completely clear of any phoenix or elf activity.

  ‘Put it this way,’ said Niamh, smiling. ‘You won’t have a hope of staying ahead of me now. That witch is amazing. Scary at times but pretty amazing. I learned more in an hour with her than I’ve learned in months with Mum. Why couldn’t she teach me some of these tricks?’

  ‘Well she’s been pretty busy, Niamh,’ said Grady defensively. ‘I mean, Mum has all the royal stuff to do while Aoife seems to have this witch of the woods act going on. I mean what was that bow all about? No one uses a bow round here!’

  ‘I don’t care about the bow, Grady. I’m coming back tomorrow. I want to beat that snotty Baskerville girl in the race. I’d love to wipe that sneer off her face.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Grady, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Let’s get home. I’m starving.’ He leaned lower over his broomstick and sped ahead of his sister.

  Behind him Niamh turned to look at the circle of stone again before it was hidden from view by the brow of the hill. Why would Modron show us the one place our parents don’t want us to go? she thought. Nothing ever happens around here without a reason. Nothing at all …

  Chapter 13

  Tips and Tricks

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Hugh, as he and Grady tried to slaughter each other’s dragons in another game of Dragon Hunt. Hugh had obviously spent far too much time playing this and was well ahead of Grady on the scoreboard. ‘A troll you barely know asked you to go somewhere you’d never been to meet a witch you don’t know at all and you then allowed said troll to put you in the middle of a portal ring, and use magic we don’t know anything about to transport you and the ring to the world you came from. Have I got that right?’

  ‘Well, broadly speaking, yes,’ said Grady. ‘But she didn’t actually transport me anywhere. I couldn’t leave the ring.’

  ‘Oh, well. That makes it completely okay then!’ Hugh shook his head in disbelief. Grady took the chance and made his dragon lunge at Hugh’s hunter.

  ‘But you had to be there. It wasn’t that bad!’ Now that someone had repeated it back to him the events of the day didn’t really seem that clever.

  ‘I don’t know how you could make that sound anything other than plain stupid, Grady,’ said Hugh as he sliced off another dragon’s head. The dragon squeaked as it died and vanished in a puff of green smoke. ‘You’re going to be my future king someday, but I’m feeling worried about the dumb stuff you do.’

  ‘It’s not dumb,’ said Grady, swatting away another blow from Hugh’s dragons. ‘Just differently smart.’

  Hugh burst out laughing, giving Grady the chance he needed. He lunged again at Hugh’s hunter. This time the small figure’s head was bitten clean off his shoulders. The badly-dressed wizard waved its arms around before spinning on the spot and collapsing into a pile of dust.

  ‘Hey! Not fair!’ wailed Hugh.

  ‘All’s fair in wizard warfare,’ said Grady, smiling. He lowered his wand and the game froze in the air between them.

  ‘Where’s Niamh now?’ said Hugh as he waved his wand through the middle of the tableau in front of them. It shimmered and winked out of view.

  ‘Probably off with the scary witch again,’ said Grady. He slumped down into a ridiculously high-backed wing chair set against the stone wall of his room.

  ‘Convenient your mum and dad and most of the castle is away at the dragon mustering display. Don’t you think?’ said Hugh, leaning up against the window.

  Grady looked suspiciously at his friend. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well don’t you think it’s funny that the days you are grounded are the days when everyone that might be keeping an eye on you is gone from the castle? If there was ever going to be a chance to get out without anyone seeing you, it was always going to be these couple of days. I reckon you’ve been set up.’

  Grady’s brow furrowed. ‘But why? Why would they want us to escape out of the castle? That doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Hugh. ‘Having a suspicious mind doesn’t always give me the answers, just questions. But if I were you I’d watch out. There’s a reason you’ve been able to get out of here. Anyhow, I’m starved. Let’s raid the kitchen and see if we can get past that angry little faerie guard that’s in charge of the treats pantry. A joint attack might work this time!’

  Grady grinned and followed Hugh out of the room. But right now, faerie baiting was not high on his list of priorities. Hugh’s questions, and the answers that might arise, were deeply troubling.

  Aoife stood on a rocky bluff above Morrigan’s Daughter, the wind blowing her hair around her face. ‘Mercy is for the weak. Champions understand winning is a way of life,’ she said as she breathed in deeply and gazed over the lake.

  Niamh stood beside the witch, broomstick in hand. Today’s
training had been even harder than yesterday’s. But the skills Aoife had drilled into her seemed to become second nature in an uncanny way. It did not feel like learning new skills but remembering old skills long forgotten. Aoife’s pronouncement on mercy though was, she thought, a little scary.

  ‘Why is mercy for the weak?’ she said, sounding puzzled.

  Aoife turned angry eyes on Niamh. They flashed red but the moment passed so fast Niamh was unsure if it was not a trick of the light.

  ‘I would have thought you of all people should understand how important is to be strong for your people. Mercy is weakness.’

  ‘You mean in races only, don’t you?’ said Niamh. ‘Mum has always said that mercy is something we need to show as members of the royal family.’

  Aoife snorted. ‘Royal,’ she said disdainfully, but quickly changed her demeanour. ‘Yes, of course I mean in races only. Remember that when you are up against Hegeline tomorrow. She understands what it takes to be a champion.’

  Niamh smiled to herself. She was looking forward to the race now. ‘Is there anything else you can teach me before I go? Mum and Dad will be getting back soon and I don’t want to get caught.’

  Aoife reached out and touched Niamh’s hair. Niamh flinched at the presumptuous familiarity of the woman’s gesture. It was chillingly like her mother’s touch. ‘I’ve taught you everything I can that will make a difference tomorrow. You will be faster round the course and your spell casting is not something I can help you improve on now. Remember to breathe deeply before shooting and calm yourself. You have an extraordinary eye.’

  ‘Will you be coming to the race?’ asked Niamh.

  ‘No,’ said Aoife emphatically. ‘No. I would not be the most welcome person on the sidelines. Better I stay away. For now.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ said Niamh.

  ‘Yes. Yes it is,’ said Aoife. ‘But don’t worry. I will be watching. I will know when you win.’

  ‘Win!’ said Niamh. ‘It’s my first biathlon. I’m hardly likely to win.’

  ‘Remember what I’ve taught you and the result will take care of itself. Now go before someone misses you. And remember – no telling them about me. I’m not sure you want to get yourself into any more trouble than you already are!’

  ‘I’ll come back when I can after the race,’ said Niamh as she mounted the broomstick. ‘Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if Modron hadn’t introduced you to me.’

  ‘Modron is a clever girl,’ said Aoife. ‘There may come a time when she asks you for a favour. You should remember the introduction when she asks for that favour. Your mother would call it “an obligation” and expect you to repay it.’

  ‘You sound like you know my mother well,’ said Niamh curiously.

  Aoife paused before replying with a measured answer. ‘I know… people. And maybe I understand your mother better than most. But that’s for another day.’

  Niamh wasn’t sure what to make of the reply so simply smiled and nodded. ‘Until next time then.’

  Aoife nodded back. ‘Until next time.’

  Niamh pushed off from the ground as she cast the spell of invisibility. She found she did not need to call for Persephone now. There was an easy flow of the right power when she needed it. Niamh felt the relationship between her and the guest in her head was shifting. She rose into the sky and headed for home.

  Aoife stood on the bluff for a few more minutes, watching Niamh fly towards the castle on the far side of the lake. She turned round to stare at the peaks behind her, sniffed the air, and smiled to herself. She gently picked the bow off her shoulder and hefted it in one hand while mounting her broomstick. Somewhere up there a mountain viper was lurking. She had smelt it and seen the tracks, but the creature was clever. She had never seen it in flight. Sooner or later she would find it, and what a trophy that would make. With a powerful leap the broomstick lifted into the air, rising towards the hunt.

  ‘Niamh! Get a move on. We’re late. Again!’

  Grace stomped down the hallway towards Niamh’s bedroom. Niamh, hearing the clacking of boots on the flagstones, made a dive for the door and into the hallway just ahead of her mother barging through the door.

  ‘Sorry Mum,’ she said, without a trace of apology in her voice.

  ‘Even your brother is ready before you today. And that was after making him go and change. You manage to avoid looking like a fashion train wreck when you choose your clothes, yet he seems to look like a colour-blind wombat that dressed itself in the dark.’

  Niamh found her underlying anger dissolve at her mum’s description but it quickly returned, overwhelming the momentary lightening of mood. ‘Will I need to bring anything special today, Mum?’ she snapped, knowing full well what was planned.

  Grace hesitated for a moment. ‘Umm. No. Nothing you need. But drop the attitude and find some good humour. That would be a help.’ She turned and strode off down the hallway.

  A hurried breakfast was followed by a rushed exit to the courtyard. Broomsticks and guards stood waiting for them and they were soon hustled into the sky.

  Grady pulled up alongside Niamh. The look on Niamh’s face made him think better about making a wisecrack, so the two flew together in silence – but both found themselves drawn towards the spire of rock that marked the way to Morrigan’s Lake.

  There was no sign of any strange figures on the lake edge as they made their way to town. And there were no strange reflections in the water, but Niamh and Grady felt eyes watching them as they flew on in silence.

  As they neared town they could see the buntings and marquees set out on the common ground again. But this time there were no target ranges in sight. A track had been created, curving away from them in both directions towards the hillsides and forests behind the town. Grace flew close to Niamh as they dropped down to the clear space set aside for their landing.

  ‘That’s the course for the …’

  ‘The broomstick biathlon?’ said Niamh tersely. ‘You wouldn’t like to let me enter, would you?’

  Grace looked sideways at Niamh. ‘You knew?’

  ‘Let’s say it was a good guess. Where are the changing tents?’

  Grace gestured to the same tent they had used on the day of the spell casting competition. ‘Everything will be in there. Ms Pussywillow will be waiting. And Ms Maladicta will have some tips for you.’

  They touched down together and dismounted. Niamh turned to her mother as the officials started to close in around them.

  ‘Do you have any special tips for me?’

  Grace looked at Niamh with a face that showed no emotion. ‘I think whatever advice I might have for you would not be listened to today. Ms Maladicta is confident you can run a good race. My only tip for you is this. When it comes to this race, mercy is for the weak. Champions understand winning is a way of life.’

  Niamh blinked in shock. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Winning is a way of life,’ repeated Grace. ‘It’s something I was taught when I was young. Hegeline Baskerville will be racing today. She never shows any mercy. She probably can’t spell the word to be honest. That’s why she wins these races. Just be careful out there today, is what I’m saying.’

  Alarm bells rang inside Niamh’s head at her mother’s repetition of the words used by Aoife. But before she could think any more of it, the crowd of local officials swarmed around them and the party was whisked off towards the grandest looking marquee Niamh had seen yet.

  Victor Vanderbilt stepped onto the start line dais. Grady thought it impossible but the enormous girth of the man seemed to swell even more as he prepared to announce the race.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ he bellowed. The crowd hushed as Vanderbilt began speaking.

  ‘Today we have the final event in the Morrigan’s Lake Summer Junior Sporting Festival. In a few moments we will be starting the prestigious Broomstick Biathlon!’ The stands arrayed along the long straight broke out into loud applause. Vanderbilt waved them down to silence ag
ain before continuing.

  ‘As you know, the Morrigan’s Lake Sporting Society has a strict non-school code to ensure the races undertaken here are held in the spirit of friendly non-partisan competition.’

  Grady rolled his eyes as the clear block of Flamville supporters broke out into boos and hisses. But they were promptly shouted down by the even larger block of Rookwood supporters sitting opposite.

  Vanderbilt continued; ‘But also, as most of you will know, the winner of this race has often gone on to win the National Broomstick Biathlon title for their school. So, we here at Morrigan’s Lake have allowed each school to nominate the riders they wish to have representing them in the race as well as leaving the race open to all comers. This year we have a record field of entrants as well as the youngest entrant ever to grace our competition. And I am delighted to say it is the daughter of our royal patrons sitting here with us today.’ Vanderbilt bowed so low and obsequiously that it seemed his ridiculous top hat would fall off or he would pitch forward into the crowd at the front of the stand. Neither happened however, much to Grady’s disappointment.

  In the changing tent to the side of the stands Niamh struggled into her racing outfit.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ she said as she lay on the ground attempting to yank a boot onto a foot which it clearly did not want to adorn. ‘Why can’t you make these things a little easier to get into!’

  Ms Maladicta and Ms Pussywillow stood to one side, each smothering a laugh. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like some help?’ Ms Pussywillow said eventually.

  Niamh snapped a sarcastic reply back. ‘No. I’m perfectly happy rolling around like a monkey.’

  ‘Okay then,’ said Ms Pussywillow, turning to walk away.

  ‘I was kidding!’ said Niamh angrily.

  Ms Maladicta turned a stern face to Niamh. ‘Do you think your mother would appreciate your tone?’ she said menacingly.

  Niamh was in no mood to back down. At this moment her mother was not flavour of the day, month, year, or even decade. ‘I’m sure she would be equally displeased with you letting me make a fool out of myself, so some help would be appreciated.’