Echoes of Avalon (Tales of Avalon Book 1) (55 page)

He backed away from the sphere and gave it a good look up and down, mouth hanging in wonder. He felt a brief inkling of comfort knowing that only Greensprings was afflicted, and not the entire island—but the thing swelled a little more and gobbled up a few more feet of land. That spectacle, and the streaks of lighting in the sky, filled him with new urgency.

He made his barefooted way down the trail to Aesclinn, casting an occasional look over his shoulder at the shimmering globe. It swelled forward every now and again like an advancing glacier, swallowing evergreens in its path.

He still didn’t know what to do, but he hoped that seeing the village would give him an idea. Perhaps one or more of the Avangarde escaped the tragedy. Maybe they had more information, or perhaps they needed his knowledge to make sense of the situation. In any case, the people needed to know that the dark orb was coming their way.

Patrick shielded his eyes as he made for the village.

#

When he arrived, there were many people in the town square. They were milling about like lost sheep, and sounded rather like sheep, as they argued and wailed about their condition.

When several farmers caught sight of the Irishman, they ran to his side to see if he needed their assistance. Then one of them recognized him.

“By the Almighty,” a villager cried, his voice raising in hope. “It’s one of the Avangarde. He’ll know what to do.” At that statement, the rest of the villagers gathered about Patrick and fought to be near him, crying out even more and pleading for explanation, for solace, and for help. They pulled and pushed him and he was many times nearly knocked down. A man in the crowd had the presence of mind to take off his jacket and offer it to him, which Patrick donned gladly.

Patrick grabbed his head in confusion and finally shouted at the pressing mob to be silent. Several others in the crowd took up his plea, and eventually, the cacophony subsided. Patrick hesitated at their staring faces. The pressure on him was palpable.

“Are there any Avangarde in the village?”

This inquiry was immediately followed by a negative buzz, followed by a momentary upsurge in complaints.

Patrick was urged and helped to stand on the edge of the well at the center of the town square to be better heard, and somebody in the crowd extended a pair of pants towards him. He snatched them up and stuck his legs into the holes.

“Does anybody know what has happened, and what...” He gestured at the sphere that loomed in the distance, like a new mountain. “What that is?”

“You don’t know?” somebody wailed.

Again, discord ran through the crowd. The clamor rose to new levels as they shouted at him and each other. People were starting to push one another; somebody could get trampled. Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples, his head throbbing.

His worst fears were confirmed. There were no Avangarde. All authority was locked in a frozen tomb up at the keep. There was only him; Sir Silence.

He opened his eyes.

“Silence!” he shouted, his voice booming with a strength he didn’t realize he possessed. The crowd went silent and all eyes were on him. He glared at them like an angry parent.

“I do not know what happened,” he growled. “I was absent. But I do know that that thing is coming this way, and you all must make haste to escape it. In the past hour it has spread from Greensprings to almost the edge of town, and that should give you an idea of how fast it moves. Gather only your most necessary belongings and go to the harbor.” Patrick stabbed his finger at Frederique the innkeeper. “You! Warn the fishermen when you arrive and coordinate an evacuation off the island to Cornwall.”

Frederique gulped and pointed at himself. “Me? Why me?”

“Because I
said
so.”

Patrick turned his attention back to the crowd. “I cannot help you. One of the Lady Guests is missing and is in danger, and I intend on finding her. You are a smart and independent people. I have no doubt you can do this.”

A woman in the crowd called out, “But you have no armor, no weapons, no horse...you are barely clothed. How will you do this?”

“I...” Patrick hesitated, his momentum wavering at the simple question. Then, propitiously, movement at the edge of the village caught his attention. A white shape bobbed at ground level. It was the swan. “I...have a plan.”

#

Patrick stood on a hill watching the villagers form a caravan towards the harbor. He knelt down and adjusted the poorly fitting slippers a villager had provided for his feet, and then addressed the swan that waited patiently at his side.

“Can you take me there? To the cave?” he asked the creature.

The swan bobbed its head and honked, then slowly waddled into the forest.

#

Minion brought the carriage to stop at the edge of the lake.

He jumped down and opened the cab door for Loki, who caressed the hair of the still-dozing Lady Katherina.

“We’re here, master.”

Loki put finger to lips and whispered, “Excellent, fetch the valise with the other devices.”

Loki slowly extricated himself from Katherina’s slumbering form. He exited, and approached the lakeshore, gazing out at the pile of rocks at its center. A fine mist collected on the surface of the water like angel hair. Here at the lake, the weather was still Avalon-perfect, but a breeze was picking up and behind them, in the distance, dark clouds gathered.

He picked his way along the waterline and found what he was looking for; a small pile of stones. Here, he reached up into the air before him, facing the lake, and found what he was really looking for. His hand disappeared.

Minion joined him, carrying a leather case. “Is it as you hoped, master?”

Loki searched the air with both hands, finding the corners of the invisible doorway.

“Not exactly,” he said at last. “It is a little bigger, but still unsatisfactory. It is not the end of the world, however, for I have come prepared.” He turned to Minion, unlatched the case and opened its lid. Inside, nestled in cloth, were two more baubles like the one Minion had left at Greensprings. He gently withdrew one and positioned himself at a certain point at the water’s edge.

“Now you will see what all our work was for,” Loki said, and he gestured for Minion to stand in another location.

He cupped the globe with both hands and held it near his breast. Closing his eyes and tilting his head towards it, he breathed deeply and began to hum. He continued for some time, like a man at prayer. Finally, the liquid-filled sphere glowed.

Even in daylight its pulsing red light was striking. It throbbed like a beating heart. Loki opened his eyes, and satisfied at the results, replaced the bauble in the case and took out its twin.

“Rainbows are special and have power,” Loki mused. “
Avalon
rainbows are especially powerful—direct descendants of the very first rainbow. You know what else has power?” Minion shook his head, stuck between wonder and bafflement. “Hearts. Besides having power in the poetic sense—passion, love, faith, and so on—they also hold power in a literal sense. They have a charge to them, not unlike the little shock you received from the first clay and metal capacitor I had you touch back in our room. Hardly noticeable to the untrained eye, but enough to activate our little devices here.”

Loki went through the same ritual with this bauble as with the first. This time, Minion paid closer attention, and he did hear Loki’s heart. The bauble flared to life and throbbed in unison with Loki’s.

“There, that should do nicely,” Loki said. “Minion, take that one and follow my example.”

Minion retrieved the bauble from its nest and set the case down. It was warm in his hand, and not only did the light in it pulsate, but he could feel it throb like a living thing.

“Now, shake it!” Loki exclaimed, and shook his device vigorously. Minion followed suit, and ceased when Loki ceased. Flakes of the white magic powder swirled inside.

“Set it down gently, then move away with me,” Loki instructed.

They moved all the way back to the carriage. The two baubles now were glaringly bright, like two fallen stars.

While they waited, Minion rubbed his hands. “Most clever, master. But the globe at Greensprings did not shine or move like these.”

Loki grunted. “Yes, that one was made with a different color of the rainbow. How the powers of the rainbow manifest themselves are as varied and interesting as the different colors themselves. Each well suited to a purpose.”

No sooner had he finished his sentence then the baubles exploded silently like a thousandfold glints of sunlight off the surface of water. Loki and Minion shielded themselves against the light and a howling wind.

When their vision returned, the baubles were gone, and in their place were two dancing columns of red lightning. These were rooted firmly to the earth, but they flailed and wove like willows in a storm. Then one snagged on something in the air and stopped moving, followed quickly by the other. Between them, the outline of a circle formed in the air, marking the magic door that had captured Loki’s attention for so long.

The power of the columns flowed like water on the outside of the circle, then joined. When this occurred, the lightning bolts uprooted themselves from the earth and jumped wholly into the circle, crackling fiercely with an alien noise. The circle grew, widening in every direction until it was many arm spans in diameter, and its lower portion rested neatly on earth.

Then, the lightning energy seemed to exhaust itself and the circle appeared to cave in. A black nothingness filled the air.

Loki and Minion stood gaping at the spectacle that went suddenly silent. Before either one could comment, however, a whoosh exploded from the darkness like water.

They ducked, but the whoosh reached only so far before collapsing in on itself again. It left behind what looked like a shimmering pool of water—hanging in the air.

“My God!” Minion exclaimed.

“Watch your language,” Loki said. He cautiously approached the shiny pool and put his face up to it. He could almost make out his reflection, and reached for the mercurial surface.

“Master, don’t!” Minion cried.

Loki silenced the little man with a stern look, then slowly forced his hand into the surface. When nothing happened, he withdrew his hand and examined it. With an expressionless face, he stepped all the way through.

A moment passed and Loki reappeared, absolutely beaming.

“Come,” he said. “It is time to claim my destiny.”

#

Loki had instructed Minion to drive the carriage straight through the magic floating pool, and not to stop. He did just that, holding his breath and squeezing his eyes shut as he whipped the team of horses to their top speed.

He felt the difference in the air before he opened his eyes. Though the Avalon air was mild and beautiful, he felt as though a fresh breeze had blown away a mugginess. His skin felt fresh and tingly. He opened his eyes and gasped. Though he had glimpsed the landscape once before, he found the horse team and carriage racing along a flat silvery surface like that of an expensive mirror. Water kicked up and splashed him with a constant mist, telling him that they traveled over the top of a lake. Though how they kept afloat, he did not know. He glanced behind them and noted their wake left in the water, which ended at a swirling image in the air that must be the magic door.

The sky was green, and there was no sun to speak of, but all was brightly illuminated as if every part of this world contributed some sort of soft glow. The silver lake was rimmed by maroon-colored hills. All these things, however, were nothing compared to the mountain.

Straight ahead was a glass mountain. It jutted from the quicksilver lake and rose high into the air, glistening in a way that was completely unique from the maroon horizon. The mountain was made of glass—clear, dense, neither reflecting the silvery lake nor the green sky, but glinting with its own crystaline light. A path wound its way from its base to its crowning jewel: a pearl and ivory castle. Radiating from the highest spire was a column of light into the heavens.

“Make for the path to the castle!” he heard Loki call out. Loki was hanging out the window of the carriage, enjoying the scenery as much as Minion was fascinated by it.

Soon, the horses’ hooves hit the beach of quartz crystal sand, then mounted the path to the castle. The roadway was composed of glass cobblestones, as thick and as heavy as their mundane counterparts, but as clear as ice. The iron shoes of the horses made a thunderous ringing, but did not fracture them.

A short trip brought the carriage to an open oval-shaped gate, surmounted by what looked like an hourglass symbol. Just as with the magic portal, Minion plowed the team through and brought the carriage to a stop in the courtyard. Here, the sound of the horses hooves were quieter.

Where the mountain was glass, the castle was pearl. No discernible stone; no brick nor mortar. Iridescent colors played over its surfaces like oil on water. The courtyard grounds melded seamlessly with the walls, all of which appeared to lean ever so slightly in one direction or another, as if they had grown there like trees.

Minion jumped down from the chauffeur’s seat and opened the door for his master. Inside, Loki was gently stroking the brow of the slumbering Katherina, who had slept through all recent events.

Loki grinned. “I believe she will be a bit more even-tempered once she sees just how enchanting her new home is.”

He stepped from the carriage and surveyed his surroundings.

The courtyard was enclosed by sheer walls and towers, dominated by an edifice with a single door. A staircase of cascading disks, each like the layer of a cake, spilled from this door to the carriage. Above the door was the same hourglass symbol.

“Yes, most definitely an Elohim sanctuary, or, as the locals like to call it, ‘Faerie.’” Loki whispered, taking a deep breath. “Minion, take the princess and follow me.”

He mounted the pearlescent stairs and opened the door to the inner sanctum. His face was alight and his smile spread wide like a child’s. Inside was a large chamber, and in the darkness he could make out row upon row of columns reaching for the ceiling in the dark. He let the door swing all the way in and allowed outside light to illuminate the room and an opening on the far side. He passed through this chamber to the portal and mounted a steep winding staircase to another oblong door. Beyond, he was pleased to see, it led to a large well-lit space. Many windows opened onto a panorama.