Patrick turned the ornate knob and pulled. The massive door creaked open, revealing another corridor with an even lower ceiling. The professor flicked on the flashlight and pointed the beam into the dim hallway. Patrick set a match to the lamp’s wick, then ducked his head and entered the passage. The others followed, also ducking as they trailed the flickering lamp.
The gray stone ceiling was about six feet high, with thick wooden beams that bent toward the floor here and there, as if ready to splinter under their load. As Billy walked, he detected a strange odor in the air, like the smell of the forest on an autumn day when the fallen leaves are just beginning to deteriorate.
The fragrance of nature blended with something else, maybe rusting metal or some other chemical corrosion that years of solitude had birthed. Billy hoped to see suits of armor lining the walls and standing at attention, but no ghosts of knights haunted these ruins, at least not in their silvery, castoff shells.
The long corridor ended at a doorway that opened into a much larger room, dimly lit by sunshine filtering through an air vent in the vaulted ceiling high above. The skylight seemed roughly cut into the stone roof, a rectangle perhaps ten feet long and eight feet wide. Traces of soot stained its edges, evidence that it had once served as an exhaust port for fires that had heated the chamber an untold number of years ago.
Leaves had fallen through the opening and littered the floor, some crumbling to dust as the visitors stepped on them. The debris sprinkled a symmetric design, etched with a multi-pointed star in the center. Sand and crushed leaves filled each engraving, making the lines blend with the surrounding floor, muting the image.
Sir Patrick swept the area with his shoe. Within seconds the design became clearer, an eight-pointed compass with narrow spires stretching northeast, east, southeast, south, and so on. At the end of each spire, a basketball-sized circle enclosed an illustration.
Patrick knelt and blew the debris away from the lines in the northeast circle. He set the oil lamp at the edge and nodded at the image. “The creation of man.”
The simple etching displayed a man and a woman standing with a fruit-filled tree between them, and in the midst of the tree a miniature dragon perched on a branch, his eyes focused directly on the woman. At the edge of the circle, a string of strange words lined the inside of the arc. Billy squinted at the words. They seemed indecipherable, though some resembled English.
The professor stood at his side. “It’s Latin, William. It says, ‘In principio erat verbum et verbum erat apud deum et deus erat verbum,’ which means, ‘In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God.’”
Bonnie knelt and rubbed her fingers across the impression, pausing briefly on the woman’s bare back. She looked up at Patrick. “Adam and Eve before the Fall?”
Sir Patrick nodded. “True innocence—undefiled, without even the memory of sin. You might even call it a holy naïveté.” He walked over to the eastern spire. “You could learn a great deal by analyzing these in depth, but we can’t afford to take the time. I’ll just show you each one as we make our way around the compass.” He stooped and blew the dust away from the circle, revealing two swords crossed in battle and under the swords, a bag of spilled coins. Two of the coins carried tiny portraits, one with a crown on his head and the other with long, flowing hair.
Billy and company followed Patrick from circle to circle. The southeast point held a drawing of two men, one taller than the other. The shorter man carried an axe with the sharp edge positioned at the taller man’s heels. The taller man held a mirror, and he gazed at himself, apparently unaware of the shorter man’s actions. Within the mirror, the reflection showed the face of a dragon.
Patrick walked by the southern circle, waving at it as he passed. “This one is best left covered. I have not cleared debris from it since I first viewed its image, and I shall not describe it to you. But I will tell you that it represents one of the deadliest enemies of men, and I mean ‘men’ in the gender sense, not as in ‘mankind.’”
Billy paused at the edge of the circle’s muddy covering. Years of dirt and rotted leaves had mixed with rain from the open ceiling. He swiped a bit of the mud away with his shoe, but all he could see was a bare foot in the dim light. He leaped past it and hurried on.
On the southwest circle, Patrick pointed out a feast scene, a rack of meat over a fire next to a table covered with piles of indistinguishable fruits and vegetables, yet only a single man sat at the table’s bounty while a child knelt begging at his feet.
The circle on the west side needed only a quick sweep to reveal a clear etching. A dragon spewed a stream of flames at a male figure so small that he seemed to be a child. The boy carried a short, thin sword, useless and pathetic against the monstrous dragon. A girl sat close by, watching the battle.
Billy shivered. He knew the image carried a profound message, yet he couldn’t figure out what it was. He just wanted to move on.
When they reached the northwest point, Patrick pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and scraped away a thick layer of damp silt. The smudged drawing showed a bridge spanning two mountains with a valley underneath. There was little detail, only the bare cliff walls and a valley floor teeming with a mass of haunting, forlorn faces intermixed with tiny, winged creatures.
Finally, at the north end of the compass, Patrick placed the lantern at the circle’s edge. Most of the debris had already been cleared, and when the professor highlighted the circle with his flashlight beam, the deep etchings sharpened. A man sat on a regal throne, a river gushing out from a hole under the base. A dozen crowns lay scattered around the man’s feet, hundreds of tiny worshipers bowed in reverence, and a child sat in his lap.
“Heaven?” Billy asked.
The professor aimed his flashlight at Billy’s chest. “We believe so, William. It resembles a paradise scene from the book of Revelation. It is the eighth circle, not part of the seven to which you will journey.” He lowered the beam and cast it on the other circles in turn. “Have you figured out what the other circles represent, if not heaven?”
Billy’s tongue suddenly dried out. The question seemed too easy, yet the answer caught in his throat. “Hell?”
Chapter 5
Perhaps not exactly hell,” the professor explained. “The circles are not the final lake of fire, you see—”
“Ahem! We shouldn’t recount terrifying stories yet, Merlin.” Sir Patrick waved his arm toward a circular table at the back of the room. “Since you were only a little late this morning, our noon meal can commence as planned. I would guess that a girl who just flew across the Atlantic Ocean must be starving.”
Bonnie placed her hand over her stomach. “I wasn’t going to ask, but I could eat a horse.”
“And since I already know about your wings, may I also suggest that you remove your backpack and make yourself more comfortable?”
Bonnie began slipping the straps off her shoulders. “Sure. That would be great.”
Patrick pulled a handheld radio to his lips and pressed a button on the side. “Markus, please tell the kitchen that we’re ready. Thank you.” He walked back to the wooden table and straightened an askew fork at one of the four perfectly placed settings of stoneware plates and stainless steel utensils.
Pulling out one chair, he gestured for everyone to sit. “Miss Silver, may I?”
Smiling at Billy, Bonnie slid into the chair and allowed Sir Patrick to seat her. She folded her hands in her lap, her silky hair falling in front of her shoulders. Billy sat across from her, while the professor pulled up his chair at Bonnie’s left and faced the chamber’s back wall of logs and stone. A cot sat against the wall next to a kneeling bench and a three-foot-tall wooden cross.
“Who sleeps here?” Billy asked.
Sir Patrick sat in his chair and pulled it up to the table. “That’s my bed.”
Bonnie leaned forward in her chair, making more room for her wings. “Why do you sleep here? It can’t be comfortable without heat in the winter.”
“With all the children coming and going, the bedrooms have new occupants on a monthly basis. At times I would give up my own bedroom and move my personal items from place to place. I decided it was easier just to camp out here. It’s a bit cold at times, but I am content. I have all I really need.”
A tall, thin man wearing a white uniform entered pushing a wheeled table that rattled with teacups, drinking glasses, and an assortment of carafes and bottles. On top he balanced four pizza boxes.
Sir Patrick moved the stacked pizzas to the table and placed his palm on top. Closing his eyes he prayed, “We thank you, Maker of all things, for the gift of nourishment. We know, as you stated yourself, that we live not by bread alone, but by every word that you speak. We humbly ask you to bless this delicious bounty. Amen.”
“Amen,” the others chorused.
Patrick slid the box off the top. “I did my research.” He set a pizza in front of each of his guests in turn. “Extra cheese for Bonnie, sausage for Billy, and mushrooms for Merlin.”
Billy flipped up his box lid and took in a long sniff. “All right!”
Bonnie opened her box and pulled out a slice. Long strings of melted cheese stretched from her hand to a greasy spot at the bottom of the box. “Thank you, Sir Patrick. What kind is yours?”
He lifted his lid a crack and peeked inside. “A dangerous combination—goats’ eyes, camel’s tongue, and . . .” He glanced at each guest, a hint of mischief in his gaze, “earthworms!”
Bonnie’s eyes bulged just as she bit into her slice. Billy burst out laughing.
Sir Patrick threw the lid open. “Will you look at that? It’s pepperoni! They got my order wrong again!”
Billy picked one of the sausages from his pizza. “Looks like they put it on mine instead!” He tilted his head and lifted the morsel over his mouth. “One camel’s tongue down the hatch!”
Bonnie tried to chew and laugh at the same time, her face turning crimson as a string of cheese dangled over her chin.
Professor Hamilton winked at his two students. “It seems that when the postman delivered a box of maturity to Sir Patrick’s house, he was out hiding in the barn.”
Patrick raised a slice of pizza as though he were proposing a toast. “And may the crippling corpse of the sedentary curmudgeon never find me! My kids need me to stay young at heart.”
The four ate pizza and talked for a couple of hours, sipping soft drinks and tea while going over Billy’s and Bonnie’s life histories. The professor told of his academic career at Oxford, but Sir Patrick kept deflecting questions about his own past. He would just wave his hand and say, “Oh, I’ll tell you some other time.”
The patter of a late afternoon shower interrupted their conversation. Raindrops found their way through the roof opening and dripped on the floor’s compass design, filtering through the sand and disappearing into an unseen drain. The diners, seated far from the exposed area, relaxed and listened to the cooling rain in comfort and silence.
Billy stretched his arms and let out a yawn. Bonnie stood and extended her wings fully, joining in with a yawn of her own. Sir Patrick pulled a radio from his belt. “Markus, is Miss Silver’s bed prepared?”
A scratchy voice replied, “Yes, Sir Patrick.”
“Please show her to her room. Take the back hallway to bypass the children.” He raised a finger. “Oh, and bring the New Table cloaks.”
He picked up Bonnie’s pizza box and neatly folded it in half. “Miss Silver, you’ve had a long journey, and you must get some rest before your next one.”
Bonnie smiled, her tired eyes blinking. “Thank you. I’d like that.”
A few seconds later, Markus came in and laid the folded cloaks next to the wall by the entry door. After handing him the empty boxes, Patrick whispered in his ear. Markus nodded and led Bonnie toward the exit, her backpack hanging limply over her shoulder. Just before passing through the doorway, she waved at Billy with one of her wings.
The professor patted Billy on the back. “William had a difficult night as well. I suggest that he also gather his strength.”
“As should you, Merlin, but I don’t have another available room.”
“I can nod off in my chair, but I would sleep better if William had a bed.”
Sir Patrick extended his arm toward his cot against the wall. “Will my bed be sufficient?”
Billy slid out of his chair and shuffled to the spindly bed. He yawned again and sat on the edge. “I think I could sleep on a bed of nails if I had to.” He stretched out on his back and intertwined his fingers behind his head. Within seconds of closing his eyes, he was dreaming, floating over dark clouds in a star-sprinkled sky. He had experienced this dream a hundred times before, flying with dragon wings over high-topped thunderheads in the middle of the night. It seemed so real, yet he knew he was dreaming, predicting the events before they occurred. Next came his usual dive into the clouds and then farther down into the stormy air currents below.
Three dragons flew past. One of them, Clefspeare, his father in dragon form, circled back. It orbited him three times, then zoomed away and joined the other two.
Billy finally landed on a forest path, rain pelting his head and forming puddles across the muddy trail. Next, if the dream went according to plan, a penguin with an umbrella over his head would walk by and offer it to him. Yes, there he was, waddling down the path, propping the umbrella up with his narrow black wing. It raised the umbrella toward Billy’s hand and opened its mouth to speak, but the words that came out were new. On most nights he said, “Here, my umbrella never leaks.” This time, he croaked a low-pitched warning. “Great danger awaits. Beware of the Watchers.” He then shuffled past Billy and disappeared in a flash of lightning and a thick curtain of driving rain.
As had become common in recent months, a familiar character appeared, Billy’s old nemesis, Palin. The dark knight stood in his path, wielding a sword. “Come on! Fight me face-to-face! Or are you still a coward who can only attack from behind?” As Billy drew nearer, Palin vanished, but his voice echoed in the darkness, “You’re just like me, boy. You’re just like me.”
Billy ventured on in the gloom of his dream, trudging through muddy water in a cemetery littered with bones. As usual, a white glow appeared on a distant hill. He hurried toward it, but a fence of shining light dropped down to block his way. He had seen this fence in other dreams, and he knew that touching it would jolt his skeleton right out of his skin. No matter how evil his pursuers, no matter how bright and wonderful his destination, this fence always prevented him from escaping death and darkness. He was never able to figure out how to open it.
A new sound rang out in the dream, the clanging of metal on metal. He spun around. Two men fought with swords, but they looked strange. Their bodies were normal, but they had the heads of lions, complete with sharp teeth and thick manes. One of them roared, yet the roar transformed into words as his bright blade smashed against his opponent’s. “Patrick, he cannot enter the circles. It’s too dangerous!”
The other lion-man countered with a swing of an equally bright sword, and when the two blades met, each one flashed like the sun. “He must go, Merlin! Without him, the prisoners will be trapped forever!”
Another clash sent a current of light through Merlin’s sword, making it too bright to watch. As the blades rubbed together, Merlin gritted his teeth. “Would you exchange their freedom for William’s life? And what if the Watchers are set free? Would you risk the safety of the entire planet?”
Suddenly, the dream took another new turn. The earth collapsed beneath Billy’s feet, sending him plunging downward in a swirl of bright lights. His body throbbed, and a horrible squeal pierced his ears and sent numbing shock waves through his brain. He landed on his feet and stood alone in darkness. Above, he could still see the hole he had fallen through, so far away it seemed like a solitary star in an ink black sky.
A loud crack jolted Billy out of his dream world, and his eyes snapped open. The sun had already set, leaving only early evening twilight peering in through the hole in the ceiling. A single lantern sat on the floor between him and the center of the room, shedding dim light throughout the chamber. The professor and Sir Patrick stared at him, each man sitting in one of the dining chairs, their elbows resting on the arms. Their faces seemed tense, locked jaws around tight lips.
Sir Patrick’s complexion had turned gray, making him look much older. He rocked his head upward. “Merlin, I think we should inform William of the danger and let him choose. I will abide by his decision.”
Patrick’s words mixed with the sound of heavy rain ripping across the floor at the center of the room. A peal of thunder answered, and a gust of wind swept a blanket of mist across the faces of the two gentlemen, relaxing their tense cheeks.
Professor Hamilton wrung his hands together, then tightened his intertwined fingers. “William, Sir Patrick has revealed to me that your mission is more dangerous than I knew. He believes it is vital and that you should go anyway, but since we cannot wait for your mother’s counsel, the decision is up to you and Miss Silver.”
Billy searched the professor’s sad gray eyes. Prof was definitely worried, more worried than he had ever seen him. After a few seconds, his teacher’s countenance suddenly brightened. Billy swung his head around. Aha! Bonnie was standing just inside the doorway. The lantern’s flickering wick cast dancing shadows across her smiling face, covering her blonde tresses with orange ribbons of light.
Patrick rose from his chair, and the professor and Billy followed suit, each giving her a gentlemanly nod. Patrick beckoned her in. “Please come and join us. I assume you are more rested now?”
Bonnie glided toward the chairs, clutching her empty backpack in one hand. “Fit as a fiddle.” She sat in the dining chair Patrick had vacated. “I was snoozing like a log until that thunderclap rattled my window.”
Patrick placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “A startling yet effective alarm clock indeed. But it’s good that you’ve come. It’s time to tell both of you about your mission.” He stepped over to the cot and sat next to Billy, folding his hands in his lap. “We have long believed that a king in Arthur’s mold would come at our time of greatest need, and your professor believes that you, Billy, have proven yourself to be the one, both by virtue of your lineage and your deeds.”
Billy pinched the edge of the cot’s blanket. “But I can’t possibly rule a country. I can barely keep my own room clean.”
Patrick grinned and patted Billy’s back. “Don’t worry, son. You are not called to rule; you are called to rescue. You are to journey into a strange land that we call the Circles of Seven and rescue some prisoners there. As your professor has noted, we suspect that this land has some connection with the afterlife.” Sir Patrick glanced at Professor Hamilton for a moment before turning his gaze back to Billy. “Your mission should have been simple in concept, but complications have arisen. The knights of the New Table plan to coerce you into using your power and authority for their purposes. They aim to trick you into releasing their allies who are also trapped there. The details are sketchy, but they need you to use Excalibur to destroy their prison.”
Billy stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. “So there are prisoners I need to rescue and prisoners I don’t want to rescue. How do I tell the difference?”
Patrick reached for a night table next to the cot and retrieved a tape recorder. “Your professor recorded Merlin’s song, which I believe he sang to you several months ago. We have a few clues in the lyrics and a few more in a poem that I will show you in a moment.” He pressed a button on the player. “Listen while our modern bard sings the old prophet’s song.”
The recorder’s tiny speaker replayed the sound of a chair being dragged and the professor clearing his throat, then crooning the song in his melodic tenor.
With sword and stone, the holy knight,
Darkness as his bane,
Will gather warriors in the light
Cast in heaven’s flame.
He comes to save a remnant band,
Searching with his maid,
But in a sea of sadness finds
His warriors lying splayed.
A valley deep, a valley long
Lay angels dry and dead
Now who can wake their cold, stone hearts