G. Kelly - Sword and Circle

“You were right Longsword, this is surely unique! See, see here, the three circles, then the fourth around the home-stone…” Allazar, engrossed and completely enthralled turned the pages of his notebook, enthusing over each one.

Gawain simply stared at the wizard, chewing silently on his frak.

“… and here, the number and alignment of symbols. I know not what to make of it yet. These are old, Longsword, very, very old, and I confess I know not the meaning. At first, I thought this outer row was simply Old Elvish of some kind, see how the cursive is similar to modern Elvish script? But the verticals are wrong…” Allazar put the notebook on step between them where they sat, and fished a brown paper package from his bag, untying it and peeling back the wrapper to reveal a thick steak sandwich from which he took a huge bite before picking up the notebook with his free hand.

“Nyummf,” He mumbled, his mouth full and chewing furiously, “Nyummf a thiff…” before swallowing and then “Look at this, this circle has a hint of the stylistic runes which adorn the illustrated Book of Thangar, one of the earliest tomes still legible in the library at the Hallencloister!” He jabbed a corner of his immense sandwich towards the notebook, turning a page clumsily with the thumb of the hand holding the book. “And this third, it has the outward appearance of primina runiform , the earliest of human mystic writings, but there are no serifs! See?”

Gawain stared, and blinked slowly, and then, to Allazar’s utter astonishment, burst out laughing.

“What? What have I said?” Allazar gaped, notebook in one hand, a doorstep of a steak sandwich in the other, as Gawain’s hysterical laughter echoed around the shattered walls of the Keep. Then the laughter turned to great wracking sobs, and Gawain drew up his knees, burying his face in his arms, and wept.

Allazar’s stomach sank, as his surroundings crashed back through the enthusiasm of his wizardly work. He reached out a hesitant hand to pat Gawain on the shoulder, but felt the hard cold scabbard of the longsword beneath his palm instead. He hastily put aside his sandwich, and sidled closer along the step.

“Oh my dear young friend… forgive me.” He whispered, and sat quietly, until Gawain’s shoulders ceased their heaving, and silence reigned once more in the shattered halls of Raheen.

When Gawain at last looked up and wiped his face on his sleeve, he found the wizard gazing at him with such profound sorrow and guilt that for a moment a wave of pity for the older man washed over he, and to the surprise of both, Gawain patted Allazar on the back.

“It’s not your fault, Allazar. I don’t know what came over me. I thought I was master of myself again, and could cope with… It’s just this, everything…” and he waved a hand that would encompass the entire world.

“I’m sorry. Excitement, you see, the runes… it got the better of me.”

Gawain nodded. They shared the silence and each other’s company for a long while, staring into the middle distance. Then a sudden breeze blew in through a gash in the wall behind them, and rustled the paper packaging of Allazar’s sandwich.

“I can’t believe you brought half a cow wedged between two loaves of bread with you.” Gawain muttered. “And you let me sit here eating frak, in the hall of my fathers.”

Allazar shrugged, and picked up his sandwich, and looked from it to the younger man’s red-rimmed but humour-filled eyes. “What can I say, Longsword. They had no rabbit at the outpost kitchens.” And with that, he took another bite.

Gawain snorted with laughter again, and this time there were no tears. What manner of mighty inner portals the young man kept tightly shuttered against his ineffable sorrow, one could only guess, but they had been closed again, and he was master of himself once more.

“So,” he sighed. “Do you think I was right to bring you here, Allazar? And right to suffer the ire of my lady?”

The wizard gazed at the floor, and carefully packed away the remains of his sandwich, chewing frantically. “Yes,” he said at length, “Yes I do. Though I know not what these markings mean, I am sure with careful study I can decipher their meaning. The key must be in the relationship between the three rings of runes, see…”

Again, Gawain laughed, and again Allazar felt a sudden alarm. But this time, there was sadness in the young king’s expression, muting the humour. “We had wizards too, Allazar, and they say that for many years, centuries ago, other wizards tried to decipher the meaning of the inscriptions. They gave up, declaring it beyond their ability.”

Allazar sniffed, indignant. “Times have advanced since then. We have all the knowledge of the modern age at our disposal,” he declared.

Gawain shook his head sadly. “Stand up here,” he said, rising and leading the wizard up to the topmost level upon with the thrones sat. “You get a better view of them from here.”

Standing in front of his father’s throne, Gawain looked down upon the circle, a confused wizard beside him.

“They change,” Gawain said softly, sadly. “Every time someone steps into the circle, they change.” And leaving Allazar on the top step gazing down at the circle on a floor glistening like a pool of obsidian, Gawain descended the steps, and strode into the circle. Though there was no commotion, no sound save the fading echo of Gawain’s footsteps, sure enough the runes shifted within the floor, like living beings, dull silver-gold amoebas, changing shape, and then freezing.

Allazar gasped in astonishment and wonder, and hurried down the steps to join Gawain. Again, as soon as he stepped into the circle, again the runes changed. Remembering his notebook, Allazar rushed back to collect it and again, the moment he set foot in the circle, the runes changed once more.

“It is hopeless.” Gawain sighed.

But Allazar ignored him, scurrying here and there within the circle, checking for patterns, looking for a key, some kind of commonality.

“Allazar.” Gawain said softly.

“Longsword?”

“It is hopeless. I had hoped… I had thought you might see this and know something , perhaps some intuition, I don’t know….”

The wizard drew himself upright from gazing at the runes in the centre of the circle. “It is most certainly not hopeless, Longsword, and you were right to bring me here.” Allazar affirmed, his face stern, but his eyes excited and filled with conviction. “This is beyond common meaning. Just because we do not know its meaning yet does not mean it is not important.”

Gawain folded his arms and eyed the wizard, seeking reassurance. “So when my lady asks if it was worth the journey, you’ll be happy to bear the brunt of her ire if we leave here empty handed?”

Allazar was about to answer and then thought better of it.

“I think we’ll sleep in here with the horses tonight.” Gawain said quietly, and left the circle, leaving a silent wizard staring at the floor as the runes changed once again.

Several hours later, as the shadows lengthened from one side of the Keep to the other, Gawain finished laying out his bed-roll. While Allazar had spent the hours moving in and out of the circle, muttering and scribbling notes, Gawain had unsaddled the horses, and tended to his duties to them. Even the Callodon pack-horse seemed to have no desire to venture outside into the bleached desolation beyond.

Gawain adjusted the sword on his back, then as an afterthought removed the belt from which his shortsword hung and laid it across his saddle. He looked up, and found himself wishing the upper floors of the Keep had survived the blast, but he saw nothing but the sky and the remains of the stone corbels on which had once rested the great oak beams of floors and ceilings. He would have liked to have stood on the roof again, just once more, up where the old one-eyed soldier had raised the flag and remembered The Fallen every morning of Gawain’s life in Raheen.