Heart of the Hill (13 page)

“Cool!” Owen said, grinning and staring at the glittering globe as it sent rhythmic flashes around the room. “This is the ultimate cool …” His voice trailed off and his eyelids closed.

Leaning forward, Myrddin whispered instructions into Owen's ear.

Owen's body relaxed into a deep sleep, and his dreamself floated free and began to search for Holly.

The sun was a dull orange orb, hanging low in a streaky sky as Mr. Smythe drove Chantel and Adam toward the Tor. The car sped down Wearyall Hill and twisted and turned through a series of backcountry lanes so narrow that the grasses and brambles in the hedgerows brushed both sides. It grew dark and foreboding as trees bent overhead, shutting out the daylight.

Adam shifted on the seat. As each second passed, his worry grew. Magic pulled at his body and mind as the car approached the Tor. He hated Vivienne. It wasn't just her intimidating appearance; it was her voice. It crept into his head and compelled him to do things. What if he couldn't resist? Adam shook his head to clear it, but nothing helped. Besides, it wasn't just Vivienne he dreaded; it was the Labyrinth itself. He could feel its twists and turns around his body, squeezing him, constricting his chest.

“Breathe in,” Mr. Smythe joked somewhat tensely as he eased the Land Rover around a tight corner. “Let's hope no one else is using this lane.”

“What if they are?” said Chantel.

Mr. Smythe grimaced. “Someone would have to back up.” His tone of voice seemed to indicate it wouldn't be him.

Chantel nudged Adam and held up crossed fingers.

Adam barely looked at her but did the same.

“This will do,” said Mr. Smythe after squeezing around several more corners. He backed the car into the rutted space before an old five-bar gate and a crooked stile. “I don't get the feeling this gate is used very often.”

Chantel checked out the healthy looking clumps of nettles and the length of the grass growing along the gate's base. She grinned.

“Come on then. What are you waiting for?” Mr. Smythe opened his door and pointed toward the stile.

Adam couldn't move. “Why here? We're in the middle of nowhere,” he muttered.

Chantel looked from her brother to Mr. Smythe.

“Come on, Adam, Mr. Smythe knows what he's doing,” she whispered.

With trembling legs, Adam left the car. He fought his way through the nettles, climbed to the top of the stile and pulled away the overhanging branches. He knew what was there before he saw it. He could feel it. Sighing, he lifted his eyes and looked from the shadows into the sunlight beyond. The flanks of the Tor rose steeply from the center of the field. There was no going back now.

“We're right at the base of the Tor,” he called to Mr. Smythe. “I couldn't see it because of the hedgerows.”

He jumped clumsily onto the grass.

Chantel and Mr. Smythe followed.

Adam's dreams came back with a rush as he stared up at the steep hillside. He could sense the Labyrinth coiling back and forth around the Tor like a giant snake, waiting to swallow him whole.

He could even see it. The evening sunlight caught the ridges round the hillside, highlighting the edges of the ancient spiral path. A ray of hope flickered in his heart. The ridges were only partial. In many places they dipped and slipped, or were washed away with miniature landslides. Sometimes they disappeared, leaving only a stretch of smooth steep hillside. It was impossible to figure out.

Relief filled him. If the path was missing, he couldn't walk it. He didn't have to face Vivienne.

“The path's damaged. I can't walk it. No one can.” His voice trembled.

“Steady the buffs,” Mr. Smythe replied as he negotiated the rough field. “I'll teach you how to find it. Can you see two white stones? The entrance is between them.”

“There are white stones everywhere,” muttered Adam. He kicked a small one.

“No, waist-high boulders.” Mr. Smythe held out his arms to demonstrate. “One above the other, sunk into the side of the hill.”

Chantel darted across the field and up the first part of the slope. “Like these?” She disappeared behind a rock and popped out the other side. “There's another one almost the same size, kind of behind it.”

Mr. Smythe loped across the slope to join her.

Adam ground his teeth, his fear submerged by a sudden flash of anger. Trust his pesky little sister to spot the entrance first. How dare she? This was supposed to be
his
task. Even though he was scared spitless, it was
his
task.

“Get out of there,” he yelled as he ran over. “If that's the entrance, it might be dangerous.”

Chantel stood her ground. “You're not the boss of me, Adam Maxwell.”

Adam lunged forward, but Mr. Smythe grabbed his arm. “Not this way. Not in anger.” He turned to Chantel.

“Adam may be right, my dear.”

Chantel pulled a face at Adam but stepped obediently from between the stones.

“‘Enter the Labyrinth only with a pure heart.' Isn't that what Myrddin said?” Mr. Smythe looked at the two children anxiously. “I don't feel the magic. I'm not even sure I believe all I've heard, but strange things are certainly happening, so we better do as we're told. Agreed?”

Adam and Chantel nodded.

“I will teach you to dowse, Adam, so you can find your way along the spiral path. Dowsing, or divining, is an ancient skill that people still use to find water, but other things can be found too.”

“Like old pathways?” said Adam.

“Like old pathways,” agreed Mr. Smythe. “Once you've got the hang of it, we'll wait for you at the top of the Tor, by the tower.”

“Guess I'll sing from the tower,” said Chantel. “That's what Myrddin said I was to do. So you'll hear me on your way up.”

Adam rolled his eyes.

“Are you ready, Adam?” said Mr. Smythe. “Do you have the thorn twig?”

Adam fumbled inside his backpack and pulled it out.

“Hold the twig in front of you like this.” Mr. Smythe showed how to grasp the short ends of the Y so the stem poked out in front of them.

He handed the twig over and watched as Adam copied him.

“Concentrate and tell the thorn what you're looking for.”

Adam laughed nervously. “You're joking, right?”

“No. Tell the thorn you are looking for the Labyrinth, then approach the entrance between the rocks,” said Mr. Smythe.

Adam shook his head and handed the thorn back to Mr. Smythe. “You first.”

Mr. Smythe held the ends of the Y and aimed the tip in front of himself. His lips moved silently as he walked between the two white stones. Suddenly the twig seemed to quiver and shake. Mr. Smythe's knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the ends to control the shaking. He turned his body slowly, following the twist of the twig until it lay calmly in his hands again, pointing straight ahead, vibrating gently.

“See that? The thorn was sensing the direction,” called Mr. Smythe. “I've aligned my body with the path, and now I can move forward until the twig twists again to show me the next change of direction.”

“What does he think I am, stupid?” Adam whispered to Chantel. “He's making the twig move.” But as the words tumbled out, something in his heart twisted and he wished he could unsay them.

Chantel didn't meet his eyes.

“Come on Adam, your turn.” Mr. Smythe acted as though he hadn't heard Adam's comment. He stepped away from the Labyrinth and held out the twig.

Adam took it, reluctantly, and lifted his eyes up to the older man.

“I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to be rude. I'm… I'm … just really scared.”

Mr. Smythe's face softened, and he smiled at Adam.

“Takes a man to admit that, son, and it's understandable. Do you need a minute to pull yourself together?”

“No. I better get on with it.” Adam grasped the Y ends of the twig and took a deep breath. “I need to … to… follow the Labyrinth's spiral path,” he muttered. He stopped, feeling stupid again.

“Go on … walk forward, between the entrance stones as you speak,” said Mr. Smythe.

“Nothing's happening,” protested Adam.

Mr. Smythe waved him on.

Adam took a deep breath. “Okay, okay.” He stretched out his arms and looked down at the twig again. “Take me to your leader.”

Chantel shouted with laughter, and Mr. Smythe chuckled.

Adam gave a twisted grin. “Sorry. I couldn't resist.” He shook himself and grasped the twig once more. “Take me through the Labyrinth to the Crystal Cave,” he said seriously and stepped between the entrance stones.

Still nothing happened.

Confused, Adam looked toward Mr. Smythe who gestured him on.

Adam concentrated again on the twig and took several steps forward. A tingling began in his palms and shot up his arms. The twig quivered.

Adam stumbled. “Hey,” he said as he recovered. “My hands tickle.”

Chantel grinned and gave a sigh of relief.

“Good,” said Mr. Smythe. “You're sensing the energy from the path. What happens if you swing to one side?”

Adam turned sideways. “The tingling gets less, and the twig stops quivering, but I can feel it trying to pull me back.”

“What about turning the other way?”

Adam turned to face uphill. “The same thing, but it's pulling me back in the opposite direction.” He faced across the slope again. “The tickling's back,” he called out. “Amazing!” He began to walk, following the pull of the thorn twig. The sensation was so intriguing that his fear receded and the world faded away as the thorn drew him forward and his feet followed.

Inside the Tor, Earth Magic stirred again for the first time in over two thousand years. The Crystal Cave flickered with sparks of light. A Magic Child was treading the sacred Spiral Labyrinth, and Vivienne was preoccupied with Zorianna!

Adam lost track of time and space as he climbed the Tor. At first he whispered to the thorn and himself. “Follow the tingling. Step to the side. Over that tussock. Avoid the rabbit hole. Oops, watch out for the land slip. Uh-uh, I've turned too far. I've lost it. Good, the tingling's back.”

The thorn guided him slowly around and around the sides of the hill, sometimes doubling back, but always winding upward. Eventually he stopped talking and focused entirely on the intensity of the feeling. Always he held the image of the Crystal Cave in his mind. As he wound upward, the image became stronger and clearer.