Circles of Seven

by Bryan Davis

  The drone of power supply cooling fans filled the room, and the refreshing breeze from an air conditioner wafted across Ashley’s face. Karen sat in a glass-enclosed chamber, her bright orange hair bobbing as she pecked at a keyboard while watching a huge video display. The chamber’s transparent walls enveloped the rear half of the computer room and housed Ashley’s greatest creation, a revolutionary supercomputer, a ceiling-high box of metal and plastic covered with notched dials, flashing diodes, and plasma monitors.

  “I thought I told you to go to bed,” Ashley called.

  Karen replied from behind the glass, her voice muffled. “Can’t. If I don’t finish this software installation, I’ll have to start from scratch tomorrow.” She rose from her chair, her eyes still glued to the screen. “Who was on the phone?”

  “Professor Hamilton.” Ashley gestured to her sister. “Come on out.”

  Karen’s freckled face beamed as she slid the chamber’s glass door open. “The professor? What’s up?”

  Ashley ran her fingers through her thick brown hair and walked slowly toward the chamber wall, staring blankly at one of her flowcharts. “He wants me to meet him in England. Something about analyzing microchips.”

  “So what’s got you looking like that?”

  Ashley swiveled toward Karen. “Looking like what?” She rubbed her cheek with her fingertips. “Did I get toner on my face again?”

  “No. You look like you missed a question on a calculus test or something.”

  Ashley smiled and shook her head slowly. “Oh, it’s just an impression. The professor said he’s ‘lost the veil of secrecy’ or something like that. You know how literary he is. Anyway, he told me to be careful, that I should ask Walter to come with me.”

  Karen’s green eyes brightened. “You’re going to England with Walter? Lucky dog.”

  Ashley put her palm on top of Karen’s red head. “You’re only fourteen. Keep your mind on your studies.” She slid the glass door closed and leaned against it. “I’ll need your brain in gear to operate the board, and this’ll be a great chance to test how far the photo-porter system will transmit.” She walked to a desk and pecked the keys on a laptop computer. The screen responded with a series of Internet pages, and Ashley browsed through an airline travel site. “Let’s see. There’s a morning flight out of D.C. We’d have to leave real early to get there on time.” She rubbed the mousepad and clicked its button. “Look at that! Two seats left!”

  “Better snap ’em up.”

  Ashley switched to a personal phone directory on the computer. “Not yet. I’d better call the Foleys first and see if Walter can go.”

  Karen picked up a stray circuit board from the table and pressed on its memory chips with her thumb. “He’ll go. With the professor in England, there’s no school for a while. I saw him this morning, and he’s so bored without Billy and Bonnie around, he’s bouncing off the walls.”

  “This morning? I thought you said you were collecting cans.”

  “I was,” Karen replied, raising her eyebrows. “I was just passing by on my bike, and he came out into the yard.”

  “Yeah, right. He probably wanted to tell you one of his lame jokes.”

  “No. Walter’s cool as cash.” Karen waved the circuit board at Ashley. “You think he’s a clown, but he’s not. Just yesterday I helped him and his dad fix their car, and he didn’t crack a single joke. . . . Well, maybe one, but his jokes are always clean.” She set one hand on her hip and blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Just because he’s not Mr. Sober Sides like you doesn’t mean you should write him off.”

  Ashley grabbed a cell phone from her belt clip. “I’m not writing him off. I’m asking him to go to England with me, aren’t I?” She flipped the phone open and glared at it. “I just wish he’d act his age.”

  Karen poked a finger into Ashley’s ribs, grinning. “Well, maybe you should act your age instead of being an ornery old curmudgeon all the time.”

  Ashley’s frown melted into a smile. “Curmudgeon? Where did you pick up that word?”

  “From Larry. He called me that today when I complained about his installation protocol.” Karen edged over to the glass wall and peered inside. “He doesn’t like me, you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Larry’s out to get you, a computer with a prejudice against redheads.” She punched in a number and put the phone to her ear. “Walter! Glad you’re still up. Sorry to call so late, but it’s important. . . . Yeah. Listen. You want to go to England with me? . . . When? Tomorrow. . . . Yeah, as in, you know, tomorrow. Don’t get all worked up. . . . Do you have a passport? . . . Super! . . . What did your dad just say? . . . A chaperone? . . . Sure. Tell him the professor’s meeting us at London Heathrow. We’ll be in good hands. . . . He said ‘yes’? . . . Great! . . . Yeah. Good idea. I need Karen to man the computer here, but the other girls can stay there. Thanks for asking. . . . Cool! I’ll get the tickets and call you back. We have to leave real early, so start packing. . . . I don’t know how long, so I’m just getting one-way tickets. . . . How should I know how many? Underwear is light. Bring all you have. . . . Later.”

  Ashley slapped the phone shut and clipped it on her belt. “I’ll take the laptop, the circuit board equipment, and Apollo.” She glanced around the room, her eyes finally resting on an electronics workbench in one corner. “The professor asked if I have a way of detecting electromagnetic frequencies. Is my old spectral photometer repaired yet?”

  “Yeah. It took quite a hit, but it’s as good as new.”

  “Good.” Ashley pointed toward a metal briefcase on a tabletop. “Put it in my case, and I’ll get packed.”

  “So you’ll be gone tomorrow for Halloween. Do we have anything for the trick-or-treaters?”

  Ashley shook her head. “I was going to get something in the morning. Just turn off the porch light and hunker down in the computer room with Larry. Sleep on the sofa if you want.”

  “Sure thing.” Karen put her finger on her jaw. “Is the transmitter still embedded okay?”

  Ashley bent forward. “Better check it for me.” She opened her mouth wide.

  Karen peered in, her eyes darting around. “Looks like it hasn’t moved at all.” She pushed Ashley’s mouth closed. “Better test the alarm.”

  Ashley tapped the outside of her jaw with her finger. A low-pitched buzzer sounded, and a light on the main computer panel flashed three times. After a few seconds, the buzzing faded away.

  Karen crossed her arms over her chest and grinned. “Works like a charm!”

  Ashley rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’ll give you credit. It was a good idea. But I still think we could’ve come up with a better location than one of my molars.”

  “Why? Does it still hurt when you chew?”

  Ashley worked her jaw back and forth. “No. I just chew on the other side. The transmitter’s designed to take a beating, but you never know what might get stuck in there.”

  “Yeah. When you’re in England I don’t want to hear crumpets and tea swishing around when I put the headphones on.”

  A man dressed in black stepped heel-and-toe along a rocky ledge, brushing against the mountainside. Although the ledge was wide enough for two men to walk side by side, he never strayed from a narrow strip of talus that crunched under his boots. Below lay a valley of littered bones, a dry riverbed between two sheer rock faces.

  As the ledge narrowed, he ran his palm along the vertical slope and marched on, keeping his gaze riveted on a gaping hole in another mountain face that lay ahead. The ledge curved to the right, leading the man to a mammoth cave.

  As he passed under the shadowy arch, the bright sunlight at his back withered and fell into weak streams, crawling past his stocky legs like a hundred wiggling electric eels. After taking three more steps, he halted, allowing his eyes to adjust to the eerie radiance in the vast inner chamber.

  A dark shape drifted across the open area like a statuesque ghost. Streaming light bathed the image, highlighting a tall female, gra
ceful and elegant. She stopped at the edge of a circular opening in the floor, a hole about six feet wide. The streams of light poured over the edge as the orifice sucked them into its depths.

  A colorful aura floated above the surface of the pit, creating a vertical, egg-shaped corona. It resembled an oval mirror standing on end, with symmetric, rainbow images waltzing through the depths of its ghostly glow. More like a living hologram than a dull, flat screen, it cast shimmering rays of light, illuminating the woman’s face with stripes of red, green, and gold and passing through her semi-transparent body.

  She spread out her arms toward the aura and bowed her head. “Samyaza, we have captured the dragon. Clefspeare will soon become a powerful ally. He has entered our realm unprotected.”

  A low voice replied from the chasm, echoing as if far away. Every syllable vibrated the hovering oval’s light as though the speaker strummed its rays like a harp. “Can you trust a mere human to take control? Can he really act as one of the Nephilim, as a true child of Samyaza and Morgan?”

  “Yes, my beloved. Devin is as devoted as any of our children would have been. He will not let us down.”

  The voice weakened. “So be it.” And its echoes drifted away. The colors in the halo faded into pastels, still swirling within the oval.

  Morgan turned slowly, her eyes gleaming as she gazed at the man who had just entered the cave. When she nodded, he spoke, his shaky legs belying his steady voice. “Elaine reports that Markus and Hartanna have taken Bonnie Silver to safety. They now have access to the two cloaks, as you requested.”

  Morgan’s silky voice replied in a soft melody. “Very good, Palin. Patrick will know what the cloaks are for. All is proceeding exactly as planned.”

  Palin took a few steps toward the hole but dared not peer into its depths. Sliding his feet to the side, he edged close to the lady. “Is our master well?”

  A dark shadow passed across Morgan’s face, and her lips thinned out. “Samyaza is my husband, not my master. You would do well to remember that.”

  Palin bowed his head. “Yes, my lady. Forgive me.”

  “Forgive you?” She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him down to his knees. “Grovel at my feet, you little worm. If not for me, you would have trembled naked at the judgment seat.” She released his hair, and her hand dissolved into a translucent vapor.

  Palin’s cheeks burned. “I . . . I had hoped my service would gain your kindness, my lady.”

  She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, her eyes ablaze. “If it is kindness you desire, you chose the wrong blood to be your ally.”

  Palin bowed his head. “I have more news. The cloaks have been reprogrammed with a simplified encryption, as you requested. Number seventeen fell to Hartanna, so they now have cloaks from him and number thirty-two, but . . .” Palin cringed. “But the old man, the kid’s professor, got away.”

  A plume of black smoke erupted from the top of Morgan’s head. “What!” she screamed. “Hamilton escaped?!”

  Palin instinctively ducked, but the blow to the head he expected never came. He looked up, thinking Morgan might have ignited into a raging fire and disintegrated, but she stood calmly rubbing her chin.

  She placed a hand under Palin’s arm and lifted him gently to his feet. A smile softened her face. “Does Patrick know what happened to Clefspeare yet?”

  “He will soon. Markus is not one to keep news from his master for very long.”

  “Good.” Morgan nodded slowly and began pacing. “My plan rests on the fragile arms of deception, and it flies into action on the wings of haste. Wise counsel is our enemy, so we must separate Charles Hamilton from Patrick and the boy king.” She pressed two fingers against her cheek. “The mind of Merlin abided too long with Hamilton’s, and since only Merlin knows how to spoil my plans, I cannot take the chance that his silly songs still chant in the old professor’s eccentric head.”

  “And how do you propose to separate them?”

  “With deception, of course. The sons of light are so naïve, they’ll believe anything they’re told.” She shooed him away with the back of her hand. “Go back to the sixth circle. I’ll send you word when I decide how to remove the old man.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Palin turned to leave, but he paused. “Who should be our agent? Devin would have been perfect for this job. No one is more qualified.”

  “Put Devin out of your mind. He is unable to serve in that capacity any longer.” She turned again toward the colors in the halo as though reading a message from its swirling bands. After a few seconds she finally spoke again, her voice low but firm. “We must hold back the seven until the king steps into my realm. We’ll call on number eight. It’s time to flex our muscles.”

  The professor pulled the cloak off and laid it next to a tree at the edge of the hilltop. He and Billy crouched, allowing the tree’s arching branches to shroud them in darkness. “How long till sunrise, Prof?” Billy asked.

  The professor pulled a chain from his trouser pocket and caught the watch in his palm, extending his arm beyond the shadows. The setting moon, nearly full and ghostly white, illuminated the thick blanket of clouds on the western half of the sky and cast a faint glow on the antique, analog face. “About half an hour, William.” He slid the watch back into his pocket. “The dragons’ delay concerns me. With the sun rising soon, I fear their discovery.” From another pocket he drew out a light brown beret. After running his fingers through his scattered white hair, he pressed the cap over his head. “It’s getting cooler,” he said, turning toward Billy.

  “Yeah. I noticed.” Billy felt drawn to the professor’s insistent gaze and shifted his eyes toward his teacher. The early morning mist flecked the elderly sage’s wrinkles with tiny dots of moisture.

  “Do you still sense danger?” the professor asked.

  Billy shook his head. “No. The feeling left a few minutes after we got here.” Although the prickly sensation on his skin and the boiling in his stomach had subsided, he still felt an ache, a different kind of pain deep inside.

  The professor laid his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “I have something for you,” he said, holding his other hand open. At the center of his palm lay a wide gold band with a dime-sized red stone mounted in the center. “William, I saw your rubellite ring in your suitcase. May I ask why you are no longer wearing it?”

  Billy pulled a lace on his hiking shoe and retied it into a secure, double knot. “I guess it makes me think too much,” he finally replied.

  The professor held the ring in his fingertips. His wise, old eyes gleamed under his bushy brow. “This rubellite is more than a mere bauble, William. It is a symbol of who you are; it is a connection to your heritage.”

  Billy retied his other shoe, finishing with an emphatic yank on the lace. “Well, maybe that’s the whole problem right there.” He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  The professor rose with him and gently grasped his forearm. “William, you probably think that I cannot possibly understand your pain. You have lost your father, yet he continues to haunt your life as a phantom in dragon form. How can the grief in your soul ever be mended when his every appearance scalds your heart as surely as if he pierced you with a blast of fire?”

  The professor opened Billy’s hand and slid the ring onto his index finger. “Never lose hope,” he said, closing Billy’s hand into a fist. “This ring appeared at the threshold of despair, at the very moment darkness met the dawn.” The professor’s hands trembled, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t give in to darkness.” His long fingers tightened over Billy’s fist. “For the dawn will eventually break.”

  Billy’s face grew hot. His eyes moistened. He couldn’t refute a single word his teacher had spoken. Somewhere in that scaly dragon named Clefspeare the spirit of his father lived on, though the voice that growled past the sparks and flames denied that he was any longer Billy’s true father.

  The professor patted Billy on the back. “William, as your heart
aches, remember this: ‘Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.’”

  Billy lowered his head. He balled his hand into a fist and rubbed his ring’s gemstone with his thumb. The rubellite was cold. It was lifeless. But it was all he had remaining of his father’s touch.

  The professor walked slowly out of the stand of trees and stood atop a low berm that encircled a huge, grassy field.

  Billy followed and mounted the embankment at the professor’s side. With his hands in the pockets of his pleated trousers, the professor gazed up at the sky and let out a long stream of white vapor. “Many people are offended when I speak freely about my faith, but I trust, now, that you are not.”

  Billy shrugged his shoulders. “No, I’m not offended.” He followed his teacher’s line of sight; the clouds had drifted to the west, exposing the northern sky. “What’s on your mind?”

  The professor pointed into the darkness. “Do you see that star?”

  “The one that looks kind of yellow?”

  “No. I believe you are referring to Kochab. Look more to the left.”

  “Okay. I think I’ve got it.”

  “That’s Polaris, the North Star.” He glanced down at Billy. “I assume you’ve heard of it.”

  “Sure. It’s always due north. Sailors used it for guidance back before satellites came around.”

  “And many explorers still use it.” The professor moved his finger in a counterclockwise circle. “If you could see a time-lapse film of the night sky, all the stars would stretch out into a stream and draw concentric circles with Polaris at the center, yet, for all practical purposes, Polaris would remain a single point—unmoved, always guiding, a light that never changes.”

  A fresh breeze blew across the field, biting through Billy’s flannel shirt. He zipped up his jacket and bounced on his toes. “I think I’ve seen a picture like that before, but I don’t remember where.”

  The professor shifted his finger up to the right. “And you probably recognize that constellation.”