Heart of the Hill
B
OOK
T
HREE
T
HE
S
UMMER OF
M
AGIC
Q
UARTET
H
EART OF
THE
H
ILL
A
NDREA
S
PALDING
O
RCA
B
OOK
P
UBLISHERS
Text copyright © 2005 Brandywine Enterprises BC Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data
Spalding, Andrea
Heart of the hill / Andrea Spalding.
(The summer of magic quartet ; 3)
Electronic Monograph
Issued also in print format.
ISBN
9781551436081
(pdf)
--
ISBN
9781554694778
(epub)
I. Title. II. Series: Spalding, Andrea Summer of magic quartet ; 3.
PS8587.P213H42 2005Â Â Â Â jC813'.54Â Â Â C2005-903270-7
First published in the United States, 2005
Library of Congress Control Number
: 2005927693
Summary:
Book Three of the Summer of Magic Quartet, in which Adam must recover Myrddin's staff from the heart of Glastonbury Tor.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (
BPIDP
), the Canada Council for the Arts, and the British Columbia Arts Council.
Cover image: Martin Springett
Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 5626, Station B
Victoria, BC Canada
V8R 6s4
Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 468
Custer, WA USA
98240-0468
09 08 07 06 05 ⢠6 5 4 3 2 1
For David,
who always believed it would happen.
Come by the hills, to the land
where legend remains;
Where stories of old stir the heart,
and may yet come again;
Where the past has been lost,
and the future is still to be won.
And the cares of tomorrow must wait
till this day is done.
âTraditional folk song
NOTE:
Myrddin is pronounced “merthin” and is the Celtic form of Merlin. “Traa dy liooar” is Manx, the Celtic language of the Isle of Man. It means “time enough” and is pronounced “trae de lure.”
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER TWO
The Cares of Tomorrow
CHAPTER THREE
Wait Till This Day is Done
CHAPTER FOUR
The Remaining Legends
CHAPTER SEVEN
Stirrings in Dreams
CHAPTER NINE
Winning the Future
A midsummer moon rose over dark hills and flooded the sleeping valley with light â a brittle light, a white light, a light full of magic. The light slid into hidden places, and night prowling creatures retreated in confusion.
The moonlight washed like crystal water over the valley's fields. It flooded the small town that huddled around the base of the tower-topped hill that rose from the valley's heart. The moonlight concentrated its magic on the hill, known by the local people as the Tor.
Such clarity of light had rarely been seen in the heart of England. Only one set of eyes witnessed it now.
The watcher gazed down in awe as the Tor soaked up the magic.
The moon rose higher and higher, so bright and full that the watcher on the tower shielded her eyes.
Moonbeam by moonbeam the Tor drank in the magic, until its crystal heart beat strong, and the forgotten edges of the ancient labyrinth that climbed its slopes glowed.
Still the moonlight poured down. The Tor drank till it could drink no more. Three large, white, oval stones on its flanks shone with an inner radiance. Two stones marked the entrance to the forgotten spiral path. The third gleamed like an eye, high on the Tor's flank at the path's goal.
After centuries of slumber, the Spiral Labyrinth was awake.
From the tower top, the watcher lifted her arms to the moon and felt her own long-dormant powers course again through her veins. She quickly wove the moonlight into protective armor, for who knew what other beings the magic light had roused?
The moon reached its zenith, and its brittle light reflected and danced over the valley's rain-sodden fields.
The Tor loomed like an island from the sea of light.
The watcher gasped, performed an ancient ritual and gave voice to the long forgotten prophecy.
“When the Tor an island be,
A child shall wind around the key
And waken me.”
She turned her face to the sky and laughed as clouds once again obscured the magical moon and raindrops fell upon her cheeks.
Her time had come.
Many miles distant, a child lay dreaming.
Adam knew he was dreaming, but he was scared. At first the dream had seemed only odd, but now he wanted desperately to wake. He could not. He was powerless to do anything but dream.
He'd fallen eagerly into bed, hoping his dreams would show him Myrddin, the magical being he'd promised to help. Instead, his dream had taken him to a strange place.
He was standing beside a moonlit lake, staring across its water toward an island formed by a tower-topped hill.
Tendrils of magic flowed from the tower. They curled and tugged at Adam's dream self, trying to draw him across the water. He twisted and turned to avoid the magic. He didn't want to approach the island. It frightened him.
A voice from the tower spoke to him.
Come to the Tor
. The words slipped through the dream and fixed themselves in his mind.
Come to
Glastonbury Tor.
Adam understood that was the name for the strange hill.
Reflected in the lake below, the Tor's steep sides were etched by a spiral path. The magic pulled at Adam's feet. He was supposed to walk the path.
Tread the Spiral Labyrinth.
The whisper floated into his mind.
Adam's eyes traced the spiral path up toward the tower. He shivered. He was never going to climb up there. The power oozing from the place terrified him.
In his sleep, Adam burrowed under his duvet. In his dream, cold fear persisted.
Again, the black tower drew him. The archway that pierced the tower held Adam's eyes. He gazed through to the sky on the other side.
Come, child! Enter the Portal between worlds and
you shall wield undreamed-of power,
urged the whisper in Adam's head.
A helmeted knight strode through the archway and stared across the lake toward Adam.
The knight was a small distant figure, but in the clarity of the dream Adam could see every detail. He shrank back from piercing eyes and hung his head.
The knight placed the tip of his sword squarely on the ground in front of him and rested his hands on the hilt. The jewel-encrusted scabbard flashed and sparkled in the sunlight. Adam averted his eyes.
You cannot ignore me forever, for you are a Magic
Child. My mind-probe has reached you and I can enter
your dreams at will,
said the voice. Adam heard the hint of a threat in its whisper. The pull of the magic grew stronger.
Adam fought against it, but the magic forced him to lift his eyes and look across the water at the knight.
The knight raised an arm and removed his helmet.
Adam gasped.
A tumble of golden hair fell around the armored shoulders. The knight was a beautiful young woman.
She threw back her head and laughed.
Vivienne.
The name slid into Adam's mind.
Adam fumed. He didn't like being tricked, and he didn't like beings invading his mind and making him do things. “Stop it, whoever you are. Leave my dreams alone!” he yelled.
Jewels flashed as Vivienne raised her sword in salute.
So! You do hear me.
“Of course I hear you. You're whispering in my head!”
Adam yelled across the lake. “Quit it.”
“I have summoned you,” answered Vivienne. This time her voice traveled clearly over the water. “Come.”
Adam shuddered.
“No!
You can't make me!” He forced his feet to turn and run from the lake, away from the woman warrior, back through his dream and into reality.
