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walls. He could smell dog s urine, too, and knew that someone tramp or traveler
had recently spent the night atop the Tor and lit a fire to keep warm.
Stepping into the center of the tower, he bent down and put his hand to the floor.
After a moment s search, he found what he was looking for: a small heap of soggy
ashes from the twig fire the tramp had made. He rose and, stretching his staff over
the damp heap, began speaking in a low voice. As the words of the Dark Tongue
echoed in the hollow chamber, the ash heap began to warm. Raising his voice, he
repeated the charm, and embers awakened and began to wink and glow like the eyes
of nocturnal animals.
Moving the staff slowly over the ashes, his voice ringing in the chamber, he saw the
first slender blooms of flame appear one, then another, and more. Pale and weak,
they fluttered to life, gathered strength, and finally burned with a firm and steady
light. In a few moments, the fire was reconstituted from the ashes it had formed.
Lowering his staff, Embries squatted down to warm himself.
He sat a long while, listening to the snap of the flames and the vacant shriek of the
wind as it restlessly circled the tower. He thought about the ordeal before him,
rehearsing each movement in his mind. When at last he judged it was time to begin,
he rose and went outside, taking the stones with him.
Pacing off thirty steps from the tower s entrance, he dropped the net bag and,
holding the staff in both hands, drove it down into the soft earth of the hilltop. He
retrieved the bag of stones and paced off three more steps from the standing staff,
laying the first stone where he stopped. Raising his right hand over his head, he
spoke a rune of protection: As I place this stone, I am placing myself, body and
soul, beneath your protection, O Lord of Hosts.
Retracing his steps, he walked three paces from the staff and placed another stone
directly opposite the first, repeated the rune, and returned to the staff. In this way, he
quartered the circle, placing a stone at each point of the compass; when that was
finished, he proceeded to quarter the quarter. After establishing the eighth stone, he
repeated the rune twice. Then, taking up the bag, he moved around the circle laying a
stone between each one already placed until the bag was empty.
Satisfied with the circle he had created, he returned to the center and, taking hold of
the staff, he looked to the storm-wracked sky and called aloud:
High King of Heaven! My shield, my defender,
be the strong tower of my strength
This night, this hour, and always.
Be Thou the cloak of Colmcille over me,
Be Thou the cloak of Michael militant about me,
Be Thou the cloak of Christ, Best Beloved, safeguarding me.
High King of Heaven! Great of Might, hide me in the hollow of your Swift Sure
Hand, in the hour of my torment and travail.
An isle art thou in the sea,
A hill art thou on the plain,
A well art thou in the wilderness,
A tower art thou in the camp of the enemy.
High King of Heaven! Brother of the Helpless, be near me, uphold me, place
your angel host around me, encircle me with Heaven s bright war band: this
night, this hour, always and forever.
As thou wast before
At my soul s shaping,
Be thou too
at my journey s close. Amen!
Lowering his hand, he turned his face to the wind, gathered his cloak around him,
and sat down with his back to the standing staff. Eyes closed, he sat motionless,
slowing his breath, calming the inner turmoil of his heart, clearing his mind of every
thought save one.
He repeated the thought over and over until he could feelthe rhythmic pulse of power
begin to ebb and flow within him. He gathered the power to him, holding it, until he
could not contain it any longer. Then, placing the full force of his volition behind this
single concentrated thought, he put forth his hand as if flinging a bird into the teeth
of the storm.
In the same instant, he released the thought: Come, Morgian, I summon thee!
The gale howled, scouring the bare hilltop, but he pulled his cloak more tightly
around him and hunkered down to wait for an answer. Far above the all-obscuring
cloud, the cold stars wheeled through their ceaseless courses, revolving slowly
around Heaven s Nail, which itself was pierced by Embries staff. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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