Magus of Stonewylde Book One (31 page)

‘But that’s such a shame!’

‘Why? Why is it a shame? I’ll tell you, Sylvie, if you really want to know, why I failed their bloody stupid tests.’ He glared at her, his face flushed with anger. ‘I didn’t want to leave my mother and Rosie and the other little ones with that bastard Alwyn. He’s always picked on me and left them alone. So I couldn’t leave knowing he may turn on them next, could I? And now can we please not talk about it anymore?’

Sylvie nodded and they continued along the ridgeway which snaked across the land, running parallel with the coastline. They were high up with the valleys dropping away on either side of them, the sea in the distance on one side and endless fields and woods on the other, as far as the eye could see. It was warm, slightly windy, and fresh. The sky was bright blue, pasted here and there with soft white clouds.

Sylvie tried to swallow her sadness. Stonewylde should be paradise and yet for some people it clearly wasn’t. She reached across and took Yul’s hand. He didn’t look at her but squeezed her hand fiercely. They walked a couple of miles in silence, holding hands and feeling as close as anyone ever can to another.

It was late afternoon when they walked back along the Dragon’s Back ridgeway, the sun and wind now behind them. They’d enjoyed a perfect day, Yul teaching Sylvie a great deal about the natural world. He knew every plant, bird and butterfly they’d encountered. He explained about the rock that formed the ridgeway and why the Dragon’s Back held a serpent-line of earth energy. Sylvie realised that although Yul was poorly educated by her standards, he knew a great deal about his world. And he obviously felt a strong spiritual unity with Stonewylde. It was humbling for her, who earlier in the day had pitied him for his ignorance.

They were just a couple of miles from the Hare Stone when they heard a wild drumming and felt a vibration through their feet. Before they knew it, a great black horse was bearing straight down on them, a rider bent low over his neck. Yul immediately stepped in front of Sylvie and waved at the horse. It swerved, changing course sharply, and the rider came tumbling off and hit the ground hard. The horse continued past them, his eyes rolling, foam flecking his mouth. Then he wheeled around and trotted back, highly agitated. Yul had recognised Nightwing at once and called to him, while Sylvie ran over to the motionless body.

As she crouched to examine the rider, Yul spoke softly to Nightwing. The horse stood a few metres away rolling his eyes
and pawing at the ground. Yul held out his hand and moved his head in response to the horse’s movements. The stallion reared and danced sideways but Yul persisted until, with a little whinny, Nightwing approached him. He lowered his head and gently butted Yul, who took the reins and stroked the horse’s long nose, whispering softly.

‘Yul, I think he’s quite badly hurt. We must get help.’

Yul led the great horse over and looked down at the young Hallfolk man.

‘His breathing’s okay and his airway isn’t blocked,’ Sylvie continued. ‘He’s not bleeding anywhere, as far as I can see. I think he’s just knocked out. But look at his arm. It’s broken, isn’t it?’

‘Looks like it. We can’t carry him and he certainly can’t ride. Will you stay here with him while I go back to the Hall for help?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that’s the best thing to do. But can you take the horse? I can’t cope with him and this man.’

‘Yes, of course. I’ll ride him back. It’ll be much quicker.’

‘Good idea. You can ride?’

‘Everyone can ride! I’ll be back soon.’

What he hadn’t said was that although he could ride the old horses that pulled the carts, and the ponies that grazed on the heath, he’d never ridden a thoroughbred like Nightwing. But Yul knew he had a special affinity with the horse and he was keen to impress Sylvie. So he grabbed the pommel of the saddle, managed to get a foot in the stirrup, and with a strong push, swung himself up.

Sitting astride such a huge beast so high up was an incredible sensation. Nightwing trembled between his thighs. He felt the massive power of the horse bunched in every muscle and sinew as he pranced on the spot, raring to go. Yul took up the reins very lightly and leant forward to stroke his neck and whisper in his ear. The horse tossed his head and turned around at the merest hint of guidance. Yul grinned down at Sylvie, his heart thumping in his chest, and gently squeezed his legs.

Nightwing launched off into a canter, his hooves drumming the hard chalk soil of the ridgeway in a tattoo of speed and
energy. It was the closest Yul had ever come to flying. He could hardly breathe. The horse felt so good beneath him, fluid and powerful, almost part of himself. Galloping along Dragon’s Back on Nightwing with the wind in his hair was pure heaven. And a dream finally come true.

At the stables, Tom the ostler was shocked to see Nightwing return with a slip of a boy on his back. He remembered then how Yul had forged an understanding with the great stallion, who was usually difficult and temperamental, if not downright dangerous. Tom took the reins as Yul leapt down, his legs shaking and heart pounding. He could barely speak with the exhilaration of it. He flung his arms around Nightwing’s neck and to Tom’s surprise, the horse nuzzled at the boy. Tom shook his head in wonder.

‘Where’s the young master who rode him out, then?’

Yul had almost forgotten why he was there, but explained quickly. Tom took over at once, sending a Land Rover with a driver and the doctor up onto the ridgeway. Yul enjoyed the experience as he’d never travelled in a Land Rover before. For Villagers, a ride in any vehicle other than horse and cart, or occasionally a tractor, was rare.

Sylvie was delighted to see them, for the man had started to regain consciousness. They travelled back together, the doctor in the back with the rider stretched out on the floor, and Sylvie and Yul squeezed together in the front.

‘You were great on that horse,’ she whispered.

He grinned, his legs still trembling from the hard gallop.

‘It was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life,’ he whispered back. ‘I love Nightwing! I wish he were mine.’

‘Weren’t you scared? He’s enormous.’

‘I was terrified!’

They arranged to meet the following day at the same place. Sylvie dissuaded Miranda, keen to join her on a walk, by saying she was going out with her new friends. She was mindful of Buzz’s warning and so kept her developing friendship with Yul secret, which made it even more exciting.

‘So where are we going today?’ she asked happily.

‘There’s somebody I must take you to meet,’ he replied, equally happy. ‘She’s a little frightening and strange but she wants to meet you. She’s the Wise Woman of Stonewylde, or she used to be. But let’s walk up on the cliff-top first.’

‘Do you think we’ll bump into anyone? I’m worried. Buzz warned me about being friends with you. He said Magus would punish you, not me, for it.’

‘I don’t care what Buzz said! Of course Magus wouldn’t like it but he’s not here and neither’s Buzz, so let’s forget them. The only person I don’t want to meet is my father. But on Sundays he’s mostly down at the Barn playing skittles and drinking in the pub. I doubt he’ll be up on the cliff-top. We’ll be safe.’

They skirted the Village through the fields and joined the path leading to the cliffs further up. The hedgerows were thick with pink, freckled foxgloves and lacy white cow-parsley. They could see the Stone Circle across the hill and Sylvie felt a thrill at the sight of the ancient stones. Yul told her how he went up there most mornings and evenings at sunrise and sunset, sitting on the Altar Stone and watching the sun. He didn’t tell her of the growing feeling of power; how he felt it seeping into him and charging his spirit with energy. He wasn’t sure if she’d understand.

On the cliff-top the warm May breeze blew in their hair. The grass up here was tough and springy, cropped short by rabbits, pink with the thrift that grew everywhere and dotted with the velvet darkness of the dainty bee orchid. They walked for a while looking out at the sparkling sea, seagulls wheeling and screaming overhead. Sylvie began to feel a flying sensation, as if she could kick her feet off the ground and rise up in the air. She spread her arms wide, the breeze streaming her hair out behind her in a sheet of wispy silk. She closed her eyes and savoured the sensation of flight. Yul thought she was the most beautiful thing on earth.

‘This is another special stone, Sylvie,’ he said softly. They’d come to an enormous round stone, a great white flat disc that lay a little way back from the cliff edge with a panoramic view
out over the sea. It glittered in the sunlight, sparkling like frost.

‘The full moon usually rises over the water and Magus often celebrates the Moon Fullness here,’ he explained.

Sylvie blanched, remembering her mother’s revelation the morning after the full moon. They approached the huge stone and tentatively she reached out to touch it, feeling a little weird knowing that this was where Magus had made love to her mother. As her fingertips brushed the stone she felt a strange jolt like an electric shock, and her arm tingled sharply. She snatched her hand away and stepped back.

‘Do you feel any magic up here?’ asked Yul, watching the expressions pass over her face. ‘Like at Hare Stone?’

She frowned, trying to dismiss the image of Magus on the sparkling stone in the moonlight. She thought of the jolt in her arm and the flying sensation on the edge of the cliff.

‘Yes, I do feel something here. But it’s stronger at Hare Stone, more powerful there and … better somehow. I don’t feel comfortable here. I wouldn’t want to moon dance here.’

‘That’s what I’ve always thought too. It’s a moon place but not like Hare Stone.’

‘What are those iron rings in the ground over there?’ asked Sylvie.

‘If it’s cold or wet, Magus puts up a tent, like a little castle. The rings are where the ropes are tied to hold it steady. You couldn’t drive tent pegs into the ground up here, as there’s solid rock just below the soil.’

‘Imagine putting up a tent just to watch the moon rise,’ said Sylvie. ‘I’d hate that. I need to dance.’

‘Well, Magus doesn’t exactly dance.’

‘No?’

‘No. The rising of the full moon is the best time of all to make love and conceive a baby. Not that Magus goes around making babies, but they say sex is so much better then. And many babies are conceived …’

‘Yes, I get the idea,’ she interrupted hastily.

‘It’s when Stonewylde women are most ripe and fertile, you
see. Some of the moon magic enters the baby at its moment of conception. My mother told me I was conceived during a full moon rising, but a very special one. A Blue Moon.’

‘What on earth is that? I thought that was just an expression – once in a blue moon.’

He lay down on the stone, looking up at the sky above.

‘Some years there are thirteen full moons, not twelve. One for every month and an extra one. It’s the extra one that’s the Blue Moon, the second full moon in a month.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘More than that, I was born at a Red Moon.’

‘A Red Moon? I’ve never heard of that either.’

‘It was a blood-red eclipse. Sometimes during an eclipse the moon’s just a little darker than usual, but other times it goes a deep, dark crimson. And that’s how it was the night I was born, so Mother says.’

‘Maybe that’s why you’re dark,’ she said. ‘You’re different to most of the people here, Villagers and Hallfolk. You’ve a dark streak in you.’

He grinned at her.

‘You make it sound exciting. It’s probably why everyone has it in for me and why I’m always in trouble.’ He sighed, gazing at the sky. ‘Funnily enough, the next Moon Fullness is a Blue Moon. It’s the last day of May, and the last Moon Fullness was at the very beginning of May – the Hare Moon.’

‘Hare Moon! That’s lovely. What’s June’s called?’

‘The Mead Moon, and July’s is the Hay Moon. The names are very old, handed down through the ages.’

‘So you were conceived at a Blue Moon. How is it special? I mean, different to normal full moons?’

‘They say it has extra powerful magic. I don’t know. I’m not moongazy. I can feel the energy and I love the beauty of it, but nothing like you experience. I feel the magic up in the Stone Circle, which is a sun and earth energy place.’

‘Shall we go up to Hare Stone for this Blue Moon?’ she asked.

Stretched out on the stone, as long and lean as a snake in the
sun, he looked over at her. She stood silhouetted against the sky and he longed to trace the delicate bones in her face with gentle fingertips. He felt a tugging need deep inside, where he knew he must keep it buried.

‘Sylvie, I’ll go with you to Hare Stone every Moon Fullness, if you want me. I’ve honoured the moon at that place for a long time. But now I know what’s always been missing.’

‘Me too,’ she said quietly. ‘The full moon’s even more magical for me when you’re around.’

‘A
h, my Raven, my little one! Come back to me at last,’ crooned Mother Heggy, her almost sightless eyes fixed on Sylvie’s face. The crow in the corner flexed its wings wide and hopped onto the mantelpiece over the range, its beady eye also fixed on Sylvie.

‘We can’t stay long, Mother Heggy,’ warned Yul.

The old crone raised her withered hand and stroked Sylvie’s flaxen hair. She didn’t flinch but stood silently, a slight smile on her face. Yul edged a little closer.