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sealieBy Sealie and LKY
Warnings and disclaimers in Part One
The grey Keep was even more foreboding as they stood at the bottom step. The first flight stretched way up to a black wooden door twice Jim's height. A smaller door was cut into the larger door. The steps glistened in the drizzle. Water dripped down the neck of Jim's jacket.
“It doesn't look open, Chief.”
“It's not. But we've got an invitation.” He waved the paper and set off up the steps with a bounce.
Jim followed, not even trying to catch up. He'd learned to pace himself whenever he was with Blair. The kid was like a moon in orbit around a planet, always moving but generally they were going in the same direction.
The steps were uneven, hard stone worn by hundreds of years of use. Reaching the top he followed Blair's scent through a low doorway that required ducking his head. The air inside seemed charged with history. Blair had already found someone, his voice floating back down the short hallway in excited bursts of explanation.
Jim paused a few feet inside, cataloguing the new atmosphere around him. The hairs on the back of his neck took notice and rose. He laid a hand on the smooth stone wall to his right, feeling the coarseness. Mustiness rushed up his nostrils. For a second his vision dimmed and he swayed.
Whoa.
Clearing his head with a brief shake, he moved forward to find his friend. The beer here in England must be stronger than he’d first given credit.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw -- Jim turned -- he could have sworn… he studied the stairwell and the short corridor leading off in an easterly direction. The light in the corridor was indirect; turning the interior sandstone walls a warm ginger. Realizing that he was staring Jim blinked and, suddenly, hanging at eye level was a luminous white orb about the size of his fist. Cocking his head to the side, he regarded it levelly. Curious, Jim smoothly moved up to it. The orb bobbed gently, shifting in the air disturbed by his passage. The pale whiteness was muted by a swirling pearlescent cobalt blue. The exterior was smooth but a secondary, misty halo encompassed the orb.
Involuntarily he raised his hand, fingers splayed. He stopped short of physically touching it as his fingers tingled, registering the faintest thrum of energy.
“What the heck are you?” Jim muttered softly. He felt no danger from it, no desire to grab Blair and run, yet this was nothing he’d ever experienced before.
The orb drifted closer, lightly tickling Jim’s fingers. The sensation didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel that pleasant either. Frankly, Jim couldn’t categorise the experience. He had no frame of reference to compare.
“There you are!” Blair skidded to a belated stop, bumping into Jim’s back as he grabbed the taller man’s arm.
In a blink the orb was no more. Jim lowered his hand.
Not even realizing that he’d shattered a moment, Blair tugged impatiently on Jim’s arm. “Come and see this, Jim. The Curator is totally cool with our visit. And they just got in a new collection of artefacts some farmer’s plough turned over in a field.” Blair talked as he dragged. “Can you imagine? This stuff isn’t even properly documented. I said I worked with Professor Dicksee and he’s like ‘oh, a learned fellow scholar’ and I’m like ‘is there anything we can do to help?’ so the long and short of it is we get to look the stuff over!” Blair sucked in a breath. “Isn’t that great?” he demanded as they entered a large hall. Stone walls rose above their heads. Glass enclosed exhibits surrounded them.
His thoughts still on the strange light he’d seen, Jim nodded. “Whatever, Chief.”
Luckily, Blair was lost in gushing happiness, so Jim could spare a moment to do his own sentinel stuff without Blair hanging on his elbow. Allowing Blair to range ahead through the jungle of exhibits, he oozed back to the doorway and peered down the corridor. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted just a fraction.
“Hello,” he whispered as the orb coalesced. What on earth was it? He deliberately flared his nostrils scenting for gas. It bobbed past him into the hall with the exhibits. There appeared to be definite direction in its movement, but Jim knew enough physics to understand that the object was at the whim of the eddies of air caused by Blair’s haphazard darting around the exhibits trying to see everything at once.
He blew a gust at the orb and it rolled through the air away from him.
Jim crossed his arms and leaned up against the doorway content to watch this thing unless it ventured too close to Sandburg.
“Pardon me,” a deep gravelled voice broke his train of thought. “We’re closed.”
Jim jerked around. “Hi.”
The gnome of a man barely came up to his elbow, but despite the difference in size the older man glared up at him through bushy white eyebrows plainly objecting to his presence and determined to do something about it.
“Jim Ellison.” Jim offered his hand. “Here doing some research. From the US. We have an invitation.”
As intended he derailed the old man.
“Will, ‘am the caretaker.” Reluctantly, he extended an old gnarled hand.
“Will Coates?” Jim queried. “We met your Granddaughter Mandy in the Old Dog and Duchess across the road. She told us to say hi.”
“Hmmmm.”
Mentally, Jim ordered Blair to come over; the student’s ebullient charms were needed. But Sandburg, as per usual, ignored him. The orb wafted up toward Jim’s nose, with a discreet huff he blew it away.
“Yer not one of those psychic investigators?” the caretaker demanded disapprovingly.
Jim’s eyes narrowed. “No. Anthropology."
Will stuffed his hands deep in his overcoat pockets plainly disbelieving his words.
"Psychic?" Jim double-checked. He shot a glance at the hovering orb. Uh oh.
"Here to take pictures of the ghosts?" Will clarified.
"No. Not here for ghosts." Jim jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Actually he’s the researcher. He’s interested in some Roman ruins. I just get to chauffeur him about for a free vacation. I'm a cop.”
“But you can see the beasties?”
"Beastie?" Jim frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"It’s what I call the orbs," Coates answered matter-of-factly. He eyed Jim. "You don't believe in them," he obviously guessed. "Then how is it you see them? They seem to gravitate to you."
The choice of the old man's term registered in Jim's mind. "They?" Just as two more orbs shot around a distant corner like pent up children just released from a boring class in school. Jim actually tucked in his butt as they circled around his tall body, exploring. "Oh, shit."
“They'll not hurt you.” Coates smirked knowingly. “Do you not have beasties in your castles?”
“I don't have castles, period.” Jim swatted fruitlessly at one getting too close for his comfort. They were worst than dogs. “Can you send them away?”
Rising up on his toes, hands clasped together behind his back, the old man pressed his lips together, as if sealing in a smile. “I wouldn't be telling the beasties what to do. I'm sure they'll settle down in a bit.”
As if the three orbs of light understood they broke out of the circling pattern and lined up a few feet away from the two men, close to the ceiling. The line was so straight, as if in a formation, that Jim gawked. He could hear Blair chattering in the adjacent room. From the sounds of it, Jim wouldn't be missed for a while.
“I've never seen them act like this,” Coates admitted. “You've got the sight, don'tcha?”
“What?” Jim glanced down at the old man.
“You see the spirits. It's a gift.”
The orbs vibrated in place, then skittered down to the corner of the corridor and back repeatedly.
“Seems they want to show you around,” Coates observed.
“You think--” Jim paused, feeling slightly foolish, “--it's safe?”
With a serious look, the old man shrugged. He turned and shuffled away.
Blair had moved through another stone arched doorway and was intent on the displays in the next room. He was easy to track; the kid had the slightly endearing habit of reading under his breath when he was really interested in something. It was not that endearing when Blair did it during an all night study session and kept him awake.
The orb which had that faint blue swirl in the centre -- his orb -- was bobbing intently at the other doorway.
Mentally, Jim hedged, part of him wanted Blair at his back when he followed the orb, and the other part didn’t want a protracted explanation with subsequent testing when he mentioned that he was communing with balls of light. But the old man could also see them; perhaps Blair could be distracted by the prospect of torturing the elderly?
Jim set off.
Gleefully, the orb sped ahead, dipping down the spiral staircase.
“Jim?”
The sentinel froze.
“What you doing?” Blair craned his head around the doorway.
“Exploring?”
“Exploring what?”
“An ancient castle? It seems appropriate – I think I’ve seen it on a hundred horror films.”
Blair tutted. “Come on help me, see if there’s anything with a sentinel vibe.”
“Just announce it to the whole world, bud.” Jim rolled his eyes.
“Is there anyone in around?” Blair asked rhetorically. “It’s a wet March afternoon – we’re the only visitors.”
“The caretaker’s here.”
“Manda’s grandfather?”
“Yeah, he went down that staircase.” Jim pointed, incidentally the way that his orb had gone.
“Didn’t Manda say that we could get him to get us in the catacombs?”
“Haven’t you got enough to see?” Jim waved an extended finger aimlessly taking in the glass exhibits.
“Yes, but Dr. Bourne said that there were some uncatalogued displays from the river find that were in storage. I haven’t spotted the plaque I’m looking for.”
“You’ve only been here thirty seconds.”
“Year, but Dr. Bourne wasn’t familiar with it when I described it to him – he thought maybe that it hadn’t been processed. I guessed it’s in storage.” Blair grinned. “He was going to show us but he had to ‘pop out to a meeting.’ He said I could entertain myself in the Museum and when he got back we’d go to storage – but if we find Manda’s grandfather we can go now.”
They found Mr. Coates taking a break. He sat in an office chair next to a small computer in a narrow room off the main entrance. The sight of an old man in an old castle sipping tea and surfing Ebay made Jim smile.
Manda’s grandfather gave them permission with a dismissive wave and Jim let Blair take the lead until Blair turned toward down the circular staircase the orbs had gone down.
“Chief.” Jim pointed up a spiral staircase. “Up first, then the catacombs.”
“What? Nuh uh,” Blair flicked his gaze down the staircase longingly. “I want to check out those artefacts.”
“They’ll still be waiting. It’s probably been more than a thousand years since anyone’s even cared about them, another hour won’t matter.” Jim slipped by the smaller man and started climbing.
“God, you’re such a jerk sometimes.”
“I heard that.”
“Well, du-ah, man.”
The next level up held a regal centre room with a vaulted ceiling that rose three storeys high. Uneven hand cut stones fit snugly together and Jim couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over the muted pattern of colours in the weathered old rock walls. He could almost picture colourful banners hanging from the narrow balcony windows set high near the ceiling. Those windows probably held the King’s Archers, armed and ready with crossbow should the king’s life become unexpectedly threatened.
Jim wandered into the middle of the now bare room and turned slowly, taking in the rich past, wanting to soak it into his skin. He closed his eyes and listened to the echoes bounce off the stones, echoes of Blair’s glee as he explored an off shoot of the room through an arched doorway.
“Hey, Jim! Come look.”
Jim ducked his head; was everyone a munchkin back in the tenth century? Blair was leaning into a thick window casement, peering out a slim window.
“It’s the king’s chambers. Can you believe how small it is?”
“Easier to heat.” Jim noted the massive fireplace, the small bed off at one end. The floor would have been lined with thick rugs of animal pelts, soft and warm. Tapestries would have covered the stone walls, rich in colour and probably telling a tale of bravery or beauty. He followed a narrow corridor that turned and ended with a bench and an all too familiar open seat.
Blair crowded his shoulder. “The royal loo.”
Jim looked down the opening. No pipes, just a pit to the floors below. “I think the dungeon is down there.”
“Puts a whole new spin on the term ‘taking crap from above’,” Blair spoofed.
“Can it, Junior.”
Blair followed him back to the main chamber, snickering. “Don’t dump on me, man.”
Jim grinned. “I’m not *wasting* my humour on this.” He started up the spiral staircase to the next level.
Blair followed, pondering, then his face glowing as he topped the pun-fest. “I’m dung with this conversation.”
Jim stopped and turned, looking down with arched eyebrows. “That doesn’t count. You changed the word.”
Blair made a fist and lightly slugged his shoulder. “Not everything has rules, Jim. Just have some fun.” He grinned as he raced up, passing Jim on the inside.
They explored the balcony corridors, looking down at different angles at the main hall. Finding the access to the roof, they endured the drizzle and looked out over the city skyline. Jim tried to compare them with the view of Cascade from the loft, but failed. Going back inside the found the ‘well room’ and peered down into the brackish water. The sign said that the well was nearly a hundred feet deep.
Finally, Jim let Blair lead them down to the lower parts of the Keep. The chapel was housed to one side, shared by the room in which the king’s garrison lived. They wandered down a corridor, through another low doorway and a narrow spiral staircase leading to a subterranean level. The air grew cold and smelled of earth, mildew and decay. A single wire, encased in a heavy insulated cable powered a line of low watt bulbs which cast a yellow light. The prickly feeling returned like invisible fingers stroking Jim’s bare arms and neck.
On cue, the orb appeared.
“What’s wrong?” Blair asked in a hush when Jim grabbed his arm and stopped him. They were only a few steps away from the end of the stairs, the stone floor landing visible.
Jim didn’t answer. The light orb was only a few feet from Blair, yet the younger man acted like it wasn’t there. The orbs appeared to be anything but malevolent but he didn’t want Blair touching one.
“Jim?” Blair glanced around them, looking right at and passing over their visitor. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Jim answered after a second or two. “Just be careful, the steps are slippery.”
“Yes!” Blair crowed from ahead, in the blink of an eye he had darted down the steps.
Jim skirted around the orb, leaning far back so he would not come in contact. It dodged his footsteps as he joined Blair in the catacombs.
The room was like all the others, cold and dark, with a vaulted ceiling. Blair stood before the plaque that had caught his attention so effectively on the television programme. Crouching down, he brushed reverent fingers over the surface. Happy -- I am in studying mode -- Blair sounds filled the room. Jim kept one ear tuned on his guide, but his attention was mainly focused on the orb. Slowly, it rose until it hovered cheerfully at eye level.
Cheerful?
He squinted, studying the swirling eddies. Colours -- cool and refreshing, polar blue and northern sky -- danced gently, swaying around a surging centre.
“Jim?”
He jerked around. “Yeah?”
“What’re you doing?” Blair’s broad brow furrowed.
“You found your plaque-thingy?” Jim asked gracelessly. He moved toward the plague. It was hewn from dark, grey stone and the motif was crudely drawn. Likely once upon a time the images had stood out in sharp relief, but the elements had muted the edges. Jim gently brushed the edge, feeling the sharp bite of mica.
He felt the dynamic lurch that heralded motion sickness. The world moved out of synch and out of order. He remained still; his ears said that a floor should not undulate. Yet the world segued sideways. Grey masonry frittered away to reveal a bleak, autumnal hill side. Drizzle brushed his upturned face.
…
End of Part Three
Part Four
Warnings and disclaimers in Part One
The grey Keep was even more foreboding as they stood at the bottom step. The first flight stretched way up to a black wooden door twice Jim's height. A smaller door was cut into the larger door. The steps glistened in the drizzle. Water dripped down the neck of Jim's jacket.
“It doesn't look open, Chief.”
“It's not. But we've got an invitation.” He waved the paper and set off up the steps with a bounce.
Jim followed, not even trying to catch up. He'd learned to pace himself whenever he was with Blair. The kid was like a moon in orbit around a planet, always moving but generally they were going in the same direction.
The steps were uneven, hard stone worn by hundreds of years of use. Reaching the top he followed Blair's scent through a low doorway that required ducking his head. The air inside seemed charged with history. Blair had already found someone, his voice floating back down the short hallway in excited bursts of explanation.
Jim paused a few feet inside, cataloguing the new atmosphere around him. The hairs on the back of his neck took notice and rose. He laid a hand on the smooth stone wall to his right, feeling the coarseness. Mustiness rushed up his nostrils. For a second his vision dimmed and he swayed.
Whoa.
Clearing his head with a brief shake, he moved forward to find his friend. The beer here in England must be stronger than he’d first given credit.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw -- Jim turned -- he could have sworn… he studied the stairwell and the short corridor leading off in an easterly direction. The light in the corridor was indirect; turning the interior sandstone walls a warm ginger. Realizing that he was staring Jim blinked and, suddenly, hanging at eye level was a luminous white orb about the size of his fist. Cocking his head to the side, he regarded it levelly. Curious, Jim smoothly moved up to it. The orb bobbed gently, shifting in the air disturbed by his passage. The pale whiteness was muted by a swirling pearlescent cobalt blue. The exterior was smooth but a secondary, misty halo encompassed the orb.
Involuntarily he raised his hand, fingers splayed. He stopped short of physically touching it as his fingers tingled, registering the faintest thrum of energy.
“What the heck are you?” Jim muttered softly. He felt no danger from it, no desire to grab Blair and run, yet this was nothing he’d ever experienced before.
The orb drifted closer, lightly tickling Jim’s fingers. The sensation didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel that pleasant either. Frankly, Jim couldn’t categorise the experience. He had no frame of reference to compare.
“There you are!” Blair skidded to a belated stop, bumping into Jim’s back as he grabbed the taller man’s arm.
In a blink the orb was no more. Jim lowered his hand.
Not even realizing that he’d shattered a moment, Blair tugged impatiently on Jim’s arm. “Come and see this, Jim. The Curator is totally cool with our visit. And they just got in a new collection of artefacts some farmer’s plough turned over in a field.” Blair talked as he dragged. “Can you imagine? This stuff isn’t even properly documented. I said I worked with Professor Dicksee and he’s like ‘oh, a learned fellow scholar’ and I’m like ‘is there anything we can do to help?’ so the long and short of it is we get to look the stuff over!” Blair sucked in a breath. “Isn’t that great?” he demanded as they entered a large hall. Stone walls rose above their heads. Glass enclosed exhibits surrounded them.
His thoughts still on the strange light he’d seen, Jim nodded. “Whatever, Chief.”
Luckily, Blair was lost in gushing happiness, so Jim could spare a moment to do his own sentinel stuff without Blair hanging on his elbow. Allowing Blair to range ahead through the jungle of exhibits, he oozed back to the doorway and peered down the corridor. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted just a fraction.
“Hello,” he whispered as the orb coalesced. What on earth was it? He deliberately flared his nostrils scenting for gas. It bobbed past him into the hall with the exhibits. There appeared to be definite direction in its movement, but Jim knew enough physics to understand that the object was at the whim of the eddies of air caused by Blair’s haphazard darting around the exhibits trying to see everything at once.
He blew a gust at the orb and it rolled through the air away from him.
Jim crossed his arms and leaned up against the doorway content to watch this thing unless it ventured too close to Sandburg.
“Pardon me,” a deep gravelled voice broke his train of thought. “We’re closed.”
Jim jerked around. “Hi.”
The gnome of a man barely came up to his elbow, but despite the difference in size the older man glared up at him through bushy white eyebrows plainly objecting to his presence and determined to do something about it.
“Jim Ellison.” Jim offered his hand. “Here doing some research. From the US. We have an invitation.”
As intended he derailed the old man.
“Will, ‘am the caretaker.” Reluctantly, he extended an old gnarled hand.
“Will Coates?” Jim queried. “We met your Granddaughter Mandy in the Old Dog and Duchess across the road. She told us to say hi.”
“Hmmmm.”
Mentally, Jim ordered Blair to come over; the student’s ebullient charms were needed. But Sandburg, as per usual, ignored him. The orb wafted up toward Jim’s nose, with a discreet huff he blew it away.
“Yer not one of those psychic investigators?” the caretaker demanded disapprovingly.
Jim’s eyes narrowed. “No. Anthropology."
Will stuffed his hands deep in his overcoat pockets plainly disbelieving his words.
"Psychic?" Jim double-checked. He shot a glance at the hovering orb. Uh oh.
"Here to take pictures of the ghosts?" Will clarified.
"No. Not here for ghosts." Jim jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Actually he’s the researcher. He’s interested in some Roman ruins. I just get to chauffeur him about for a free vacation. I'm a cop.”
“But you can see the beasties?”
"Beastie?" Jim frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"It’s what I call the orbs," Coates answered matter-of-factly. He eyed Jim. "You don't believe in them," he obviously guessed. "Then how is it you see them? They seem to gravitate to you."
The choice of the old man's term registered in Jim's mind. "They?" Just as two more orbs shot around a distant corner like pent up children just released from a boring class in school. Jim actually tucked in his butt as they circled around his tall body, exploring. "Oh, shit."
“They'll not hurt you.” Coates smirked knowingly. “Do you not have beasties in your castles?”
“I don't have castles, period.” Jim swatted fruitlessly at one getting too close for his comfort. They were worst than dogs. “Can you send them away?”
Rising up on his toes, hands clasped together behind his back, the old man pressed his lips together, as if sealing in a smile. “I wouldn't be telling the beasties what to do. I'm sure they'll settle down in a bit.”
As if the three orbs of light understood they broke out of the circling pattern and lined up a few feet away from the two men, close to the ceiling. The line was so straight, as if in a formation, that Jim gawked. He could hear Blair chattering in the adjacent room. From the sounds of it, Jim wouldn't be missed for a while.
“I've never seen them act like this,” Coates admitted. “You've got the sight, don'tcha?”
“What?” Jim glanced down at the old man.
“You see the spirits. It's a gift.”
The orbs vibrated in place, then skittered down to the corner of the corridor and back repeatedly.
“Seems they want to show you around,” Coates observed.
“You think--” Jim paused, feeling slightly foolish, “--it's safe?”
With a serious look, the old man shrugged. He turned and shuffled away.
Blair had moved through another stone arched doorway and was intent on the displays in the next room. He was easy to track; the kid had the slightly endearing habit of reading under his breath when he was really interested in something. It was not that endearing when Blair did it during an all night study session and kept him awake.
The orb which had that faint blue swirl in the centre -- his orb -- was bobbing intently at the other doorway.
Mentally, Jim hedged, part of him wanted Blair at his back when he followed the orb, and the other part didn’t want a protracted explanation with subsequent testing when he mentioned that he was communing with balls of light. But the old man could also see them; perhaps Blair could be distracted by the prospect of torturing the elderly?
Jim set off.
Gleefully, the orb sped ahead, dipping down the spiral staircase.
“Jim?”
The sentinel froze.
“What you doing?” Blair craned his head around the doorway.
“Exploring?”
“Exploring what?”
“An ancient castle? It seems appropriate – I think I’ve seen it on a hundred horror films.”
Blair tutted. “Come on help me, see if there’s anything with a sentinel vibe.”
“Just announce it to the whole world, bud.” Jim rolled his eyes.
“Is there anyone in around?” Blair asked rhetorically. “It’s a wet March afternoon – we’re the only visitors.”
“The caretaker’s here.”
“Manda’s grandfather?”
“Yeah, he went down that staircase.” Jim pointed, incidentally the way that his orb had gone.
“Didn’t Manda say that we could get him to get us in the catacombs?”
“Haven’t you got enough to see?” Jim waved an extended finger aimlessly taking in the glass exhibits.
“Yes, but Dr. Bourne said that there were some uncatalogued displays from the river find that were in storage. I haven’t spotted the plaque I’m looking for.”
“You’ve only been here thirty seconds.”
“Year, but Dr. Bourne wasn’t familiar with it when I described it to him – he thought maybe that it hadn’t been processed. I guessed it’s in storage.” Blair grinned. “He was going to show us but he had to ‘pop out to a meeting.’ He said I could entertain myself in the Museum and when he got back we’d go to storage – but if we find Manda’s grandfather we can go now.”
They found Mr. Coates taking a break. He sat in an office chair next to a small computer in a narrow room off the main entrance. The sight of an old man in an old castle sipping tea and surfing Ebay made Jim smile.
Manda’s grandfather gave them permission with a dismissive wave and Jim let Blair take the lead until Blair turned toward down the circular staircase the orbs had gone down.
“Chief.” Jim pointed up a spiral staircase. “Up first, then the catacombs.”
“What? Nuh uh,” Blair flicked his gaze down the staircase longingly. “I want to check out those artefacts.”
“They’ll still be waiting. It’s probably been more than a thousand years since anyone’s even cared about them, another hour won’t matter.” Jim slipped by the smaller man and started climbing.
“God, you’re such a jerk sometimes.”
“I heard that.”
“Well, du-ah, man.”
The next level up held a regal centre room with a vaulted ceiling that rose three storeys high. Uneven hand cut stones fit snugly together and Jim couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over the muted pattern of colours in the weathered old rock walls. He could almost picture colourful banners hanging from the narrow balcony windows set high near the ceiling. Those windows probably held the King’s Archers, armed and ready with crossbow should the king’s life become unexpectedly threatened.
Jim wandered into the middle of the now bare room and turned slowly, taking in the rich past, wanting to soak it into his skin. He closed his eyes and listened to the echoes bounce off the stones, echoes of Blair’s glee as he explored an off shoot of the room through an arched doorway.
“Hey, Jim! Come look.”
Jim ducked his head; was everyone a munchkin back in the tenth century? Blair was leaning into a thick window casement, peering out a slim window.
“It’s the king’s chambers. Can you believe how small it is?”
“Easier to heat.” Jim noted the massive fireplace, the small bed off at one end. The floor would have been lined with thick rugs of animal pelts, soft and warm. Tapestries would have covered the stone walls, rich in colour and probably telling a tale of bravery or beauty. He followed a narrow corridor that turned and ended with a bench and an all too familiar open seat.
Blair crowded his shoulder. “The royal loo.”
Jim looked down the opening. No pipes, just a pit to the floors below. “I think the dungeon is down there.”
“Puts a whole new spin on the term ‘taking crap from above’,” Blair spoofed.
“Can it, Junior.”
Blair followed him back to the main chamber, snickering. “Don’t dump on me, man.”
Jim grinned. “I’m not *wasting* my humour on this.” He started up the spiral staircase to the next level.
Blair followed, pondering, then his face glowing as he topped the pun-fest. “I’m dung with this conversation.”
Jim stopped and turned, looking down with arched eyebrows. “That doesn’t count. You changed the word.”
Blair made a fist and lightly slugged his shoulder. “Not everything has rules, Jim. Just have some fun.” He grinned as he raced up, passing Jim on the inside.
They explored the balcony corridors, looking down at different angles at the main hall. Finding the access to the roof, they endured the drizzle and looked out over the city skyline. Jim tried to compare them with the view of Cascade from the loft, but failed. Going back inside the found the ‘well room’ and peered down into the brackish water. The sign said that the well was nearly a hundred feet deep.
Finally, Jim let Blair lead them down to the lower parts of the Keep. The chapel was housed to one side, shared by the room in which the king’s garrison lived. They wandered down a corridor, through another low doorway and a narrow spiral staircase leading to a subterranean level. The air grew cold and smelled of earth, mildew and decay. A single wire, encased in a heavy insulated cable powered a line of low watt bulbs which cast a yellow light. The prickly feeling returned like invisible fingers stroking Jim’s bare arms and neck.
On cue, the orb appeared.
“What’s wrong?” Blair asked in a hush when Jim grabbed his arm and stopped him. They were only a few steps away from the end of the stairs, the stone floor landing visible.
Jim didn’t answer. The light orb was only a few feet from Blair, yet the younger man acted like it wasn’t there. The orbs appeared to be anything but malevolent but he didn’t want Blair touching one.
“Jim?” Blair glanced around them, looking right at and passing over their visitor. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Jim answered after a second or two. “Just be careful, the steps are slippery.”
“Yes!” Blair crowed from ahead, in the blink of an eye he had darted down the steps.
Jim skirted around the orb, leaning far back so he would not come in contact. It dodged his footsteps as he joined Blair in the catacombs.
The room was like all the others, cold and dark, with a vaulted ceiling. Blair stood before the plaque that had caught his attention so effectively on the television programme. Crouching down, he brushed reverent fingers over the surface. Happy -- I am in studying mode -- Blair sounds filled the room. Jim kept one ear tuned on his guide, but his attention was mainly focused on the orb. Slowly, it rose until it hovered cheerfully at eye level.
Cheerful?
He squinted, studying the swirling eddies. Colours -- cool and refreshing, polar blue and northern sky -- danced gently, swaying around a surging centre.
“Jim?”
He jerked around. “Yeah?”
“What’re you doing?” Blair’s broad brow furrowed.
“You found your plaque-thingy?” Jim asked gracelessly. He moved toward the plague. It was hewn from dark, grey stone and the motif was crudely drawn. Likely once upon a time the images had stood out in sharp relief, but the elements had muted the edges. Jim gently brushed the edge, feeling the sharp bite of mica.
He felt the dynamic lurch that heralded motion sickness. The world moved out of synch and out of order. He remained still; his ears said that a floor should not undulate. Yet the world segued sideways. Grey masonry frittered away to reveal a bleak, autumnal hill side. Drizzle brushed his upturned face.
…
End of Part Three
Part Four
