The Mystic’s Circle

“Quickly, children,” said Madam Patrice. “Get behind me.”

“Foolisssssh Mysssstic. Your power issss dying,” hissed Sinistral. “You need the Myssstic’ssss Ccccircle to ssssummon!”

“You’re standing in it!” yelled a voice. It was Widget. He limped from the shadows, Mimick bounding along beside him.

Widget scraped the dirt at his feet. Etched into the rock beneath were symbols.

Madam Patrice had a twinkle in her eye.

Sinistral raised his head to strike as she raised her hands.

“By air, earth, water and fire,

Arabus come, our need is dire.”

A white mist filled the cave and a blue dragon emerged from it, blocking the serpent’s strike just as its mouth was about to close over Madam Patrice. It hurled the snake to the other side of the cavern. The group stepped back as the dragon turned to face Sinistral.

“We meet again, old friend,” the dragon said in a low, warm voice.

“Arabussss,” the snake hissed. It lunged at him.

The dragon batted the snake’s head aside, sending it crashing into the stone wall. Stalactites fell threatening to skewer Sinistral, but he scurried away before they struck. The children backed towards one of the walls, weapons ready, but unsure of what to do other than stay out of the way.

While the Jinns battled, Magus Nimrel took Madam Patrice and Master Rickett aside and had them use the keys. A tiny door opened, and as much as the four youths tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening, all they managed to see was a simple locked box. Magus Nimrel handed it to Madam Patrice and whispered. Yet Widget’s one mechanical ear was more sensitive than his natural ear and he caught what was said.

“Keep this safe,” Magus Nimrel said. “With the rise of the Darksworn and the loss of so many Mystics, its time will come soon. Hide it where none will find it – not even me.”

Madam Patrice slipped it into her robes and with a swish of her hands, it disappeared. Then they locked the door once more just as Arabus’ tail swung round. The three of them ducked and it swept over their heads.

The dragon changed into a white mist that wrapped around the serpent, almost like another white snake that coiled around Sinistral. He roared in pain. Sinistral’s skin smoldered and he tried to breathe fire upon Madam Patrice, but only white smoke emanated from his nostrils. Sinistral swung his tail, but it flopped before it struck. Then he cried out to the Weepers for help and a single fang fell from his mouth.

The Weepers scurried from the tunnels, tumbling over each other to come to their master’s aid, but they burned as they touched the white mist. The serpent-like mist grew brighter, lighting up the cavern as if the midday sun shone down into the depths of the underground. The Weepers fled from the cave in droves. Then the white mist formed smaller serpents that chased them into the tunnels. The screams of the Weepers echoed through the cavern.

Arabus was now gone as Sinistral wriggled, his skin still smoking, and morphed back into the boy who looked like Widget. Steam rose from his head and he reached down to grab the fang. It was razor-sharp. He said nothing and fled for the tunnels. Mimick ran after it and grabbed him by the ankle. Sinistral lashed out at Mimick and sliced its arm with the tooth.

“Mimick!” it cried, yet hung on.

Madam Patrice herded Roe and Sari forward, clasping their hands in her own. “You cannot be allowed to leave.”

A rush of power swept through them: heat like the fires of Underhaven, cold like the Sea of Despair, the ground shook like in the Ruins of Seeto, and the winds blew as if standing upon the tip of Mount Simeon. The girls gripped as tight as they could. They could sense Madam Patrice’s thoughts and knew that the power she wielded was due to the box she had hidden in her dress. And it was like she was a part of them – combined they were one being, one power that was going to lock this Jinn in stone forever. Their hands slipped, and they clenched their teeth. And Sinistral, his eyes aflame with red anger, screamed his outrage.

“No!” he cried as his feet turned to rock, binding him where he stood. He started to change back into the snake, but it was no use. The rest of him petrified, until all that remained was his partly human head.

His spat out his last words before the rest of him turned to stone. “I … will … return.”

Madam Patrice let the girls go. They fell to the ground gasping for breath.

Mimick sat off to the side, cradling its arm. A blackness was overtaking its body.

It whispered to itself. “Mimick. Mimick.”

The four orphans crawled over to it.

“Mimick,” it whispered.

Roe pleaded with Madam Patrice. “Please, we need to heal it.”

The woman shook her head in a sullen motion. “I need potions and powders for this sort of wound, and I have none here.”

“But Mimick can heal. We’ve seen it.”

“Then it will need to heal itself,” she said.

Mimick shook its head and touched each one of the children on the forehead. Its tongue changed from pink to black and rolled back up into its mouth. Then it closed its eyes and its head tilted back to rest against the cavern wall. Its tail, which always had that hypnotic motion, lay still, coiled upon the ground.

“No!” Sari cried.

They all reached over to touch the strange creature, petting its fur. The warmth was seeping from its body.

The cavern began to shake once more and a green aura slipped from the body of Mimick. It spread into the walls and floor.

Madam Patrice pulled the girls up. “I suggest we leave, posthaste.”

“What’s happening?” Maddock asked.

Magus Nimrel took him and Widget by the arm. “It seems that your friend is cleaning the cavern of the evil that lingers in it.”

“How?” asked Master Rickett.

“I do not know, but we must leave.” He handed a fresh piece of strall to each of them. A feeling of energy swept through them as they chewed.

Widget and Sari looked back at the statue of Sinistral, afraid it might come to life, but it did not move. Master Rickett ushered them into one of the tunnels as rocks fell from the ceiling.

They crawled and ran, Widget leading them once more through winding tunnels and old city ruins. They reached the final staircase and wound upwards, climbing to safety.

They spilled out onto the halls of Simian’s Lair and sprinted for the entrance.

The early morning sun shone through the windows. They had survived a full night in the depths of the caverns. Madam Patrice pointed her rod at the doors and they flew open. They spat out the foaming strall and ran out into the city streets.

Mimick’s magic was now inching up the walls and struggled to fight off the dark shadow that refused to release its centuries-old hold over the manor. The magics wrestled, subsiding at points, rising at others. And then, with one last momentous effort, the power that Mimick had summoned with its death forced the darkness into the ground. Then the green aura dissipated into the air and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

It was short lived.

The white-stoned beginnings of the new building shook and the same darkness that had once enveloped Simian’s Lair now engulfed this one from below. Layer by layer it blackened, rearranging itself, slab upon slab, into a blighted structure that resembled something from the Shadowlands. The ground around it darkened and sank into a bog. Crows alighted around the swampy grounds and three vultures sat atop the tallest tower. It beckoned them like a twisted, stone finger. A dark chuckle emanated from its depths.

“A great victory, but a heavy price,” muttered Magus Nimrel.

The others nodded and waited for something else to happen.

For hours they sat, expecting Sinistral, Marveleous Thingrom, or some other evil to come bursting forth, but the morning remained still, and each was left to their silent thoughts.

In the days that followed, there was much to do around Simian’s Lair. Now that the manor had been cleansed it had a renewed purpose: home to the many orphans throughout the land. The corrupted section was to remain uninhabited. It was to be overseen by a City Magistrate — a woman by the name of Malkim.

Magus Nimrel entered the building but once, to retrieve a few items, and to ensure that it did not pose an immediate threat. Then he never set eyes upon it again.

Two days later they held a service to remember their fallen friend. They owed Mimick much. Although they had barely know it, the creature’s sacrifice was something that each of the four children would never forget.

And as the ceremony ended, and they had spent the last of their tears, the foursome strode to the lamppost where they had first met Mimick. And as they stood around it, the wind seemed to carry upon it a familiar sound. And for a moment, the four friends thought they caught a silhouette bounding about with a tail that swayed behind it in a hypnotic motion, just off in the distance.

They all held their breaths, and then walked towards it, with hope.