silver tint of the glass rippled through the colors of the rainbow, faster and faster, until they bled together into a blinding light like the sun. Cormac was forced to shield his eyes. Just as quickly, the light deadened to opaque like slushy snow. Cormac relaxed, black dots dancing in his eyes. For reasons he never understood, the loamy odor of the forest after a hard rain filled the chamber.
Memories of his childhood in Ireland swirled through him, leaving nostalgia even as the mirror’s effects disappeared.
Shaking a bit, the Cardinal Seer let out a deep, tired breath.
“The Fionúir sees much,” Donato said, his eyes scanning the mirror, viewing features Cormac could not. “Looks peaceful. Caer Llion is as it has been for centuries—shrouded in mystery. The black mist surrounding the castle is as impenetrable as always. The curse tablets blind me even as I am blind here.”
“Philip wants us to remain that way.”
The Seer sighed. “Vanity, I suppose.”
“Could be,” Cormac responded. “Or we are not meant to see his activities.”
“He rarely ventures outside the castle walls. I’ve only caught him thrice. Now that he controls most of Annwn, there is no need for him to do so. The battles are few and far between.” The older man paused, musing. “Still, amazing he has been alive as long as he has. The Lord surely works in mysterious ways.”
Cormac looked at the ancient Bible. “The answer for his longevity is what scares me.”
Still bathed in the pale gray light, the Seer nodded. “Indeed.” He leaned a bit closer to the mirror. “The rest of the countryside appears as it has for me and my predecessors—the forests are thick and healthy and the water of the rivers clean in the lowlands. The mountainous regions of the Carn Cavall and Snowdon, however, are a different tale; with her magic, the witch wears down the upper forests and all who live within them. The fey suffer. Those who remain free struggle to remain so.”
“What of the countryside where the Seattle portal exits?”
The Seer took a few moments and frowned.
“Nothing. Dryvyd Forest is empty.”
“Continue to keep a close watch this week. The events in Seattle warrant it, I think.”
“Will yeh share with me what has transpired?” “I cannot,” Cormac said sadly. “Not even with you, old friend.”
The gray light emanating from the Fionúir Mirror went blank as Donato pulled away, the shimmering glass reflecting the room once more. Eyes returning to milky blindness, the Cardinal Seer swayed on his feet for a moment before steadying. “The Lord wishes to call me soon,” he said, rubbing his shrunken chest with a bony hand. He replaced the black cloth over the mirror. “It is time to find my replacement. My end comes, Cormac.”
“Not too soon, I hope.”
Donato allowed Cormac to guide him to the bed. “I will remain as strong as the Lord will allow me. Yeh know that.”
“I do,” Cormac said.
“Now leave me,” the Seer said curtly, sinking into the bed. “The effects of the mirror will wear off in time. Yeh have duties to perform. The sun is rising, and that bodes well on the day.”
Cormac covered his old mentor. With a warm last look, he left the Cardinal Seer to his soft bed and warm chamber.
Soft snores quickly followed him out the door.
Donato was right; the Seer was getting old. But he had fire left inside, and Cormac hoped it would see him through at least a few more years.
Rather than return to his residence, Cormac traveled upward through the catacombs of the Basilica, slipping through a secret passageway into the Sacred Grottos with its populace of dead Popes and dignified personages. He would begin his day early. By the time he reached the nave, others were already about, most administrative workers or priests, the day bustling with activity even as the sun rose. Soon Rome and St. Peter’s would be flooded with visitors, and Cormac would be busy with his daily duties.
As leader of the Vigilo, it was another day of protecting the world from Annwn.
At least Captain Arne was on his way to Seattle.
A set of Swiss Guards saluted him as he passed into the vestibule, their traditional garb of blue and red stripes a blemish amidst the beautiful sculptures and paintings. He nodded to the two men politely, barely seeing them.
How had the son of Ardall gotten involved in the affairs of the Vigilo? How did the world of Annwn fit in with it?