by Robert York
After discarding my winter garb in a jumbled pile I took the opportunity to investigate our situation seeing that there wasn’t much else to do. The floor we rested upon was made from roughly hued stone weather worn from years of harsh elements and neglect. A collection of thirteen translucent green magical symbols bound by four concentric circles glowed faintly from within the stone itself beneath us. The other circle that contained our stuff had similar markings from what I could see.
I decided to stand a few feet away from the perimeter of our magical cell. Given my luck thus far, I wouldn’t want to get incinerated just by looking at it. Whatever spell was keeping us contained within the circle was invisible to the naked eye, yet I felt something was there. It felt like a low palpable thrum, like a numb tingling on my skin. It took a few minutes to remember a spell Barnabas had taught me in order to reveal hidden enchantments or wards. Sadly I didn’t have my battle staff or wand to channel the spell through, so I had to do the best with what I had.
Raising my right arm, I extended my hand with fingers fanned out, palm facing the invisible barrier. I closed my eyes focusing on the spell, controlling my breathing, it was difficult however to gather energy. The barrier may have been a magical dampening field, cutting me off from the surrounding energy. I was able to gather enough for this spell however. After a few moments of mental preparation I uttered in the spell in a low tone.
“Ostendo sum occultus vox.”
A pale blue mote of smoke like energy in the shape of an undulating circle issued forth from my outstretched hand lazily moving toward the invisible barrier. When the smoke ring hit the wall a sound not unlike bacon frying echoed from the impact site. The energy spread out over every inch of the containment wall revealing its shape and size to me. The wall rose fifty feet or so vertically topped with a reverse pattern of symbols the same as what was beneath our feet. A cylinder of magic is what it looked like. As the blue energy faded my heart sank, we were in an absorption field. Any attempt whatsoever in attacking the wall or the stones beneath our feet would result in the strengthening of our cell. I’d inadvertently made the wall minutely stronger with my attempt at garnering its dimensions.
“That was trippy,” Said a gruff voice behind me.
I turned to see Race cradling his head in one hand while shielding his privates with the other. Rather nice of him I’d say. I’ve seen enough of his junk this trip to last me three life times.
“How are you feeling,” I asked.
He looked pale.
“I’d be alright if my head would stop spinning,”
He let out a watery sounding belch. Judging by the face he made I’d say a little bile rose up as well. His free hand went to his stomach.
“I can’t change.” He said. “My head hurts too much.”
“Lay back down and rest. We don’t need your Lassie imitation at the moment.”
He painfully nodded his head once then laid back down turning onto his right side facing away from me. I took the opportunity to move around our cell methodically taking in every detail, completing my circuit just as a few more of my companions stirred from the sleep spell. I was fairly certain that whoever created our prison made it with the remaining members of the Octagon in mind. Though I am very thick headed at times, I can connect the dots sooner or later. Merlin to my surprise had remained silent since I awoke. Either he was still out cold or he was observing the situation. I needed to just sit down and think. Something was gnawing at me, something that I may have possibly overlooked or was it just something that hadn’t occurred to me. There was still no sign of our captors. I wondered why they decided to be so mysterious. Usually anyone that gets the upper hand in any situation tended to take the opportunity to gloat.
Tilly and Adrianna were groggy as they attempted to make it to sitting positions. I debated telling Adrianna that she was a rather loud sleeper, but decided to just let it go. Now wasn’t the time. I moved over to Tilly kneeling next to him.
“Take it easy,” I said placing my hand on his shoulder steadying him.
“Yes Master,” he replied in a shaky voice.
Satisfied he wouldn’t tip over and injure himself, I moved over to Adrianna. At first she spurned my attempts at helping, however the motion of her swatting at my steadying hand caused her to topple over striking her head on the stone floor.
“Ow,” was all the verbal expression she could muster.
Her hand rubbed at her temple as I helped her to a sitting position.
“For a Vampire you are pretty hard headed,” I said.
“Ha... Ha...” She replied in a cranky tone, but a faint smile appeared nevertheless.
“My intentions are honorable,” I said seriously. “I only want to help.”
She reluctantly acknowledged my words with a slight nod, which given her lighter than normal pallor was all the response she could manage.
“Besides,” I continued, “Had I wanted to take a peek at your fun bags or take advantage of your shapely body I had every opportunity to do so while you were unconscious.”
A smile erupted from her, as did a charming laugh.
“Then again,” I said. “Who says I didn’t,” I smiled waggling my eyebrows in a knowing manner. “Where are we,” Adrianna asked.
I looked around us.
“Not entirely sure,” I replied. “I know we aren’t at Bialek’s place any longer.”
She quirked a “you think?” eyebrow.
“Hassan, India.” Barnabas’s English accent calmly proclaimed our location. “Near the Hemavathi River.”
Adrianna, Tilly and I turned to see Barnabas propped up on an elbow watching us. Even Race rose up to look.
“The hiding place of the Sword of the King, Excalibur.”
As we all digested that bit of information Bart took this opportunity to wake up. I’m not talking about a lethargic greeting to consciousness. No, he immediately jumped to his feet moving into a defensive stance, eyes darting around for possible threats. He reminded me of a prison inmate on edge. All he needed was to be brandishing a handmade Shiv threatening anyone that looked at him cross-eyed “not to touch his stuff” to complete the picture.
“Give it a rest,” Race grumbled as he lay back down. I think the cool stones against his skin were helping with what ailed him.
“Yeah, Captain I touch everything.” I chimed in not wanting to be left out with the insults. “Keep your hands in your pockets next time.”
Bart straightened. His eyes resting on mine. He lowered his head, then his vice like hands were at my throat. I didn’t actually see him move, but I felt the air he displaced as he took hold of me.
“You don’t have your weapons Wizard,” he said through a predatory smile. “How about I tear your tongue out just for good measure.”
His thumbs tightened on my windpipe as the sound of vertebrate popping in my neck reverberated in my ears. I knew he wasn’t breaking any of the bones; still it scared the crap out of me. My hands grasp his wrists attempting to get him off me. His hands were strong like thick metal bands wrapped around my neck. I looked around for help. Everyone seemed to have a difficult time getting to his or her feet. They appeared to be inebriated. The effects of the sleeping spell seemed to still be evident in their sluggish movements. It was sort of comical to watch. I tried for a witty comment, but all that came out was a “gack” sound. My vision reddened around the edges as my head pounded like a snare drum beating time to a rock and roll rhythm. Bart wasn’t going to stop; he was going to end me. In desperation, I uselessly punched at his face; all I succeeded in doing was to make him smile more broadly.
“What, no smartass remark,” he asked contemptuously.
My vision slowly faded to black, but before my sight blacked out completely I perceived a startled expression on Bart’s face, he then abruptly released his hold on me. I fell to the floor in a heap, my knees knocking heavily on the stone as I landed hard on my left hip. A dark hulking form towered behind Bart, a huge right hand wrap
ped around the Vampire’s neck. I heard some unintelligible remark in German then Bart went hurdling through the air backward colliding with the barrier. I groped about getting to my knees gasping for air. Stale and foul smelling though it was, the air tasted sweet as it filled my lungs. I turned my eyes toward Bart.
Have you ever sat outside on a glorious summer evening? I’m sure many of you have, who hasn’t. A favorite drink clutched lazily in your hand. The heat mild, the humidity low, crickets chirping the first few verses of their night songs. A light breeze gently rustling the leaves in the trees, the creek of a rocking chair on a wood porch and the entire experience cast in a cool blue light of a bug zapper. The occasional electrified crackle of an unsuspecting bug hypnotized by the glow of the death trap as it’s body comes into contact with the electrified metal screen.
Now, I want you to imagine a Bart sized bug zapper then you can appreciate the amount of crackling Bart did when he hit that magical barrier. Wilmar brushed his hands together giving a single curt nod in Bart’s direction in a “take that” sort of gesture. Everyone was on their feet, except for me of course, shading our eyes to the dazzling light erupting from the barrier. Bart hung suspended five feet above the floor writhing in electrified pain before he was spat - so to speak - back onto the stones in a crumpled mess a foot or so away from me. I scrambled to my feet avoiding being struck with his body as a few sporadic crackles of energy escaped from the barrier before it settled back down becoming invisible once again.
Bart let out a pained groan as he attempted to move. The back of his coat was blackened and smoldering, threatening to burst into flames. The quick thinking Race sprang into action. I’m not entirely sure, but I think we all had varying degrees of the same shocked look of disgust on our faces as Race relieved himself onto Bart’s back. Now I’ve never been accused of being able to judge someone’s character or intentions, yet I’m fairly certain Race had Bart’s safety and well being on his mind the whole time, not wanting such a valuable member of our group to burst into flames. Race is a kind and giving individual... OK, if you believe either of the last two statements I’ve made then I have some ocean front property in Kansas I’d like to sell you. We turned our gazes to Race as he performed the traditional shake before moving away.
“Was that necessary,” Barnabas demanded.
“Yes,” Race replied with a smile before he turned sitting back down on the spot where he lay a few moments before.
Barnabas shook his head in a disapproving manner as he scanned around our holding cell. Wilmar leaned in close to him.
“What is our next course of action,” Wilmar inquired.
“I’m not sure,” Barnabas replied doubtfully. “Our best course of action is to...”
Barnabas’s words trailed off. His eyes locked onto something just beyond the barrier behind us. The blood seemed to drain from his skin as his body went rigid. I turned in the direction Barnabas’s eyes were fixed. I froze as soon as I saw them; the luminous sanguine eyes peering through a hole in a portion of the deteriorating stonewall. Next to them just above the rim of the wall I noticed another set of eyes peering hungrily in my direction. As I turned scanning our surroundings I saw more, a lot more. Not three or four sets of eyes, but hundreds. All eyes focused on us possessed a deep seeded malice dancing within their depths. Tilly inched closer to me grabbing hold of my left leg.
“What are they,” Adrianna asked curiously.
“Bogeymen,” Barnabas replied. “Horrible little creatures.”
Barnabas was in no way exaggerating with that last statement. Though this was my first time laying eyes on them, I’d heard stories about the Bogeymen. Some of them I’ve no doubt were flat out fiction while others weren’t to be discounted so easily. Perhaps that’s why parents make up stories about “The Bogeyman” because they’re creatures plucked from nightmares.
Bogeymen aren’t imposing specimens in stature at all, three feet high and lanky. Their skin from my observations was obsidian in color, which had a shiny cast like crude oil. What made them dangerous however were the four razor sharp sickle claws on each of their hands and feet. What made them absolutely terrifying were their lifeless blood red eyes and the six rows of shark like serrated teeth set in the jaws of their oval shaped heads. Oh, and as the legends go they’re strong physically, highly intelligent and have absolutely no concept of fear.
Bart got delicately to his feet behind us. I turned observing his movements. He looked discombobulated as he took stock of his situation. His puzzlement at the dampness of his coat deepened as he took a section of fabric between pinched fingers giving it a sniff.
“Why am I wet,” his question lingering in the humid air a little too long.
Others turned to regard him.
“Your coat started smoldering Sir,” Tilly offered up helpfully in the silence. “We feared it may have combusted injuring you.”
Tilly was an accomplished diplomat. Had to admire that quality. I think tensions would’ve been worse had we just told him Race pissed on his back.
Bart nodded in lethargic understanding.
“Why do I smell like urine,” Bart asked suspiciously.
That was a question even our little diplomat didn’t want to answer. I think matters were made worse by our guilty demeanor and averted eyes. Race’s devious or should I say deviant chuckle didn’t help matters. Bart stripped out of his drenched coat disgust oozing from his clouded expression. He discarded his coat next to Race with a contemptuous gesture before stalking as far away from the rest of us as our confined space would allow. I perceived his back going stock straight when he finally saw what the rest of us had been looking at for the past few minutes.
“Ahhhhh,” Merlin said relish in his tone. “The curtain has risen and now we can experience this little farce.”
“Where’ve you been,” I asked perturbed.
I could feel odd stares from those within earshot around me. Tilly released my leg cautiously backing away, his look questioning my sanity. That meant I said the last statement aloud. Better look into getting a few “Insane and Loving It” t-shirts when I get home. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna need a few. I waved a hand for them not to worry.
“Sorry, I just remembered the title of a Kathy Mattea song.” I said through a smile that I hoped didn’t look like I was about to serve tea to a March hare.
“Where’ve you been,” I said to myself this time. “And what do you mean by farce?”
“Be silent and turn round.” Merlin replied curtly.
“What,” I said incredulous. “I’ve been waiting for you to say something about all of this and now when you finally open your mouth I get some sort of cryptic reference, then you tell me to shut up and turn around.” “If you want to stay in my head you have got to learn to work and play well with others.”
“Turn round,” Merlin commanded.
So I turned around, reluctantly.
Standing just inside the doorway of the church holding a gnarled staff was the tall Wizard that attacked me in Stumpwater’s, the silver Janus mask still covering his face. He considered us for a short time before moving further into the remains of the structure. He stood near our prison facing Barnabas. Following close behind him were around thirty individuals in all. Four were dressed like the tall Wizard right down to the silver masks they wore. Moving along with them to their left was Whitey. When the group of what I presumed to be other Wizards hiding their identity came to a halt behind our albino friend. Whitey moved over to stand at the tall Wizard’s left. Then came the sultry Vampire duo, Zoe and Isabel, they were flanked by six individuals wearing the garb of the Ashari assassins. They resemble the ones that attacked us at the Thorne building. The remainder of the people in the precession appeared to be - and this is just an assumption – more Vampires. Bringing up the rear of this parade of doom lumbered three Yeti ape beasts. They took up positions at the doorway glaring daggers of hatred at me as well as Wilmar.
Barnabas and the tall Wizard exchang
ed a series of intense looks as the group halted behind the tall Wizard and Whitey, arranging themselves in an irregular semicircle. The tall Wizard raised his arms in a mocking salute then said.
“The great Barnabas Blackmane and his lackeys.”
A wave of laughter swept through those gathered then died away as quickly as it sprang up.
“A washed up Wizard, a pair of misguided Vampires, a monster right out of the pages of a novel, a mangy flea bitten Werewolf,”
“Hey asshole,” Race interrupted. “I ain’t got no fleas!” Then, he scratched self-consciously behind his ear.
“A poor excuse for an Elf,” the tall Wizard continued unperturbed. “And an impudent apprentice that lacks any real talent for the magical arts.”
I raised a hand grinning unfazed by his comments.
“Present,” I answered in my best annoying tone.
Barnabas remained silent as I gravitated toward him as an unconscious response to the insults. I noticed the others had moved a bit closer to him, lending our meager support. Everyone except Bart, he continued to stay as far away from the rest of us as possible.
“You play an interesting game with the lives of your friends and associates,” the tall Wizard said truculently.
He then turned making a beckoning gesture for someone behind him. He indicated to the cross atop the crumbling church. One of the Yeti huffed out a deep-throated rumble that sounded like “Yes”. The beast shambled gracefully up the ruins of the walls all the way up to the cross. His huge hand closed around the shaft and with a quick powerful jerk, broke it off where the cross met the stone. The beast moved down the wall faster than he ascended, within moments he was placing the cross at the feet of his master in a deferential manner. The Yeti moved back to lurk with his brothers as the tall Wizard picked up the cross by the small end near the patibulum.
“Gather unto Caesar all that is Caesar’s,” he spoke with awe in his tone.
“The correct wording of that verse is; Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s,” I chimed in correcting our captor.