Magus of Stonewylde Book One (42 page)

‘You wouldn’t be planning on staying out overnight, would you?’

She glanced up at him in panic but he was grinning.

‘Don’t worry, I too feel the need to sleep under the stars. I take it nobody knows?’

‘No, and please don’t say anything. My mother fusses terribly.’

‘Your secret’s safe with me. You can’t come to any harm,
although watch out for adders. There are so many at Stonewylde and I’ve seen several recently. Are you going far?’

‘You said I was going to travel, remember?’

‘So I did.’

His eyes took on their dreamy look and blinked into a different focus. He gazed right through her in silence, then laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

‘Your barn owl is with you, Sylvie. And another travels too, to offer extra protection. A raven!’

He blinked again and smiled down at her, patting her shoulder.

‘Lucky girl having two spirit guides. You must be very special indeed. Here, let me give you something.’

He fished inside the small shoulder bag he always carried and produced two speckled cakes.

‘When you’re lying under the spangled veil of stars tonight, these will help you on your journey. If you see my wolf, greet him from me, won’t you?’

He strode off humming softly and Sylvie continued along the Dragon’s Back, remembering all that Yul had told her about the line of Earth Magic that snaked this ancient pathway. She tried to draw on it as she walked but realised it was no use. She was a moon person; Yul was the one who could tap into the earth energy. The sun moved lower in the sky, turning softly golden and stretching her shadow out long and thin behind her.

The larks were still rising around her, appearing out of nowhere from the ground and ascending rapidly into the wide open sky, singing joyously as they rose so high they almost disappeared from sight altogether. She’d never seen larks before coming to Stonewylde. The swallows were more familiar, but nevertheless a breathtaking sight as they swooped and dived in the bright blue skies above. She felt some of the spiritual unity that she realised was a constant factor in Yul’s world. This was what mattered in life – the joy and freedom of the birds around her, the ancient path of the grassy ridgeway where people had walked
for millennia, the blueness of the skies and the gold of the sun. Nothing on earth was more important than these simple things. This was the very essence of existence.

At last she reached the place on the ridgeway where she must turn off and follow a path leading north. She saw a small copse aligned with a distant pair of tumuli, like breasts, and knew this was the right spot; she’d noted this landmark from the maps in the library. It was early evening now and the sun had passed through the western sky and was heading towards its north-west summer bed. In two nights’ time it would be at its furthest point of setting. She remembered Yul telling her about it during those wonderful couple of days they’d spent together, before Magus had snatched him at the Blue Moon.

As she walked down the slope of the ridgeway towards the wood, Sylvie thought of Yul. Not as she’d seen him last, broken and damaged, but how he’d been that weekend when they’d walked, talked and laughed together. Just the thought of him made her long for his company. He was so beautiful. She loved his smile, his smoky grey eyes, his hollow cheeks and sharp cheekbones. She thought of his mouth and felt a wriggle of embarrassment when she remembered how they’d almost kissed by the Hare Stone. She’d wanted to so much and yet she was scared too. Sylvie would be fifteen in two days’ time and had never kissed a boy – had never even wanted to until now. She concentrated hard and tried to send a message of love and comfort to him.

I’m on my way Yul! I’m coming to save you from the place of bones and death
.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, Yul collected up the dirty dishes lying scattered about on the grass. In this fine weather the men spent the evenings outside, pleased with the fresh air after breathing in stone-dust all day. Yul made several journeys to gather up the greasy plates and cutlery, almost tripping over as the men stuck their feet out whenever he passed. It had become a regular game; who could make Yul fall with his arms full.

He stacked the dirty things on the chipped table in the dilapidated kitchen caravan and turned on the hot tap. The boiler linked to a gas cylinder fired up and lukewarm water trickled into the tiny sink. It always took several sink-fulls to wash everything. Yul’s back ached badly from loading broken stone onto the dumper trucks all day and he felt queasy after the fatty, synthetic food he’d just eaten. He was filthy, his hair a mat of thick white dust, but there was no point washing. He’d get just as dirty the next day and here everyone smelled horrible.

When he’d eventually finished, Yul went outside only to be greeted by demands for more beer all round. He went back and loaded up a crate with cans from the fridge, which he served to the raucous group of men. The illegal workers sat together playing an excited and noisy game of poker, a stack of coins in the middle. Jackdaw sprawled in his luxurious recliner, a can in one hand and cigarette in the other. The quarryman from Portland sat with him listening to a portable radio.

‘The reception here’s bloody terrible,’ he grumbled, trying to tune the radio better.

‘Yeah, I know. There’s no mast for miles and the hills block everything. That’s why we can’t use mobile phones here,’ said Jackdaw. ‘I can’t get used to having no mobile. ‘Tis like losing your right arm. No bloody signal at all on the whole estate.’

He noticed Yul heading towards the caravan where they slept.

‘Where are you going, boy?’ he yelled. Yul stopped and groaned; he’d hoped to lie down to ease his aching muscles.

‘Just to the caravan, sir,’ he said.

‘No you ain’t! Come ‘ere!’

Yul trudged over to where the two men sat. Jackdaw glared up at him, his brilliant blue eyes sparking like an overloaded fuse.

‘You don’t leave till I say you can. You ain’t finished work yet. Sit!’

Yul sank to the dirty grass, full of ash, cigarette butts and globs of phlegm. Now Jackdaw would keep him up half the night out
of spite. He hung his head, so weary he was almost asleep as he sat. Surely he must be getting to the end soon? He’d lost track of the days but could tell the Solstice was very close now from the size of his shadow at mid-day.

‘Get me another beer, boy’ said Jackdaw throwing the empty can at Yul’s departing back and cheering when he hit his target. This resulted in all the men having a go, and Yul was pelted with a shower of cans, not all of them empty. He took no notice; any reaction just made it worse. Then they’d make him stand still and be a real target whilst they took turns to throw several cans each. It was one of the many humiliations they put him through daily and he’d learnt to accept it as normal. When he returned, Jackdaw again commanded him to sit, tossing the ring-pull in his face.

‘Well, Yul, do you know what day it is tomorrow?’

‘No, sir.’

‘The twentieth.’

‘Is it?’

‘You’ll have done your two weeks here.’

Yul’s heart leapt with hope. Was he free to go? Would Jackdaw release him?

‘Do you want to go back to the Village tomorrow?’

‘Yes! Yes I do!’

‘Yeah, I bet you do.’

They sat in silence. The Portlander was still trying to listen to the sports programme, fiddling with the tuner and cursing. Yul’s heart hammered with hope but he didn’t dare ask outright. Jackdaw pulled deeply at his beer and belched.

‘Pity you’re not going then!’ he laughed.

Yul’s spirit plummeted. He fought back the tears that threatened to spill. That would really make Jackdaw’s evening; he’d have such fun if Yul cried.

‘Why not?’ he whispered.

‘’Cos I ain’t had word from Magus!’ shouted Jackdaw leaning down into his face. ‘And don’t you question me, you little bugger!’

‘What’s that?’ asked the Portlander.

‘I told him he ain’t going home tomorrow ‘cos I’ve had no message from Magus. Besides, I want to keep him here. He makes a good dogsbody, don’t he? We got him half trained now and I don’t want to lose him. When I see Magus next, I’ll ask if you can stay on here, Yul. In a couple o’ weeks’ time we’ll be doing a big blast and you’ll be useful. Looking forward to that, ain’t we?’

The other man nodded.

‘Yeah, should be a good one. Clear all that backfill over on the west side. Looking forward to it myself.’

‘So you ain’t going nowhere tomorrow, Yul. And if I have my way, you won’t be going nowhere for a long time. I like having a personal slave and you’re shaping up at last. Now move your arse and get me another beer.’

The boy rose to his feet and was again hit by a flying can. He almost picked it up and hurled it back, but that would’ve been inviting death.

As the sun sank in a brilliant golden ball of light, Sylvie reached the quarry. She was exhausted, her legs aching and back stiff from carrying the heavy pack. She stopped on the slope leading down towards the shallow end of the quarry and took stock of the scene before her. There were lights on in a couple of the caravans and men sitting around outside. She could hear their voices but was too far away to identify Yul.

Sylvie wondered where to make her bed for the night. Nobody must see her, as the plan depended on her arriving in the morning as if she’d come straight from the Hall. She decided to skirt around the camp and go up the outside of the quarry towards the top of the hill. There were large boulders up there and she’d be well hidden, but able to watch what went on below.

Wearily she made a wide detour around the caravans and the lower end of the quarry. The sun had disappeared over the brow of the hill but it was still very light, being so close to the solstice. It was a beautiful sunset, the few clouds a glorious pink, bright against the pale-blue sky. For once Sylvie didn’t notice in her
aching effort to climb the hill before darkness fell. She must avoid the rocks littering the grass, as well as the precipice of the quarry edge.

At last she’d climbed high enough. She was nearly at the top and chose a great boulder to shelter her as she slept. She stopped with relief, shrugging off the heavy load from her back, and peered down into the quarry. She was only a few metres away from the sheer drop, very high up almost at the head of the great pit. She noticed an enormous stone there, rising like a pillar from amongst the boulders, too smooth and shaped to be in its natural state. Perhaps this was the stone Magus had told her about, the one on which he’d been conceived. In the morning she’d look for the snake carvings he’d mentioned. She mused at the strange Stonewylde custom of making love on rocks and vowed that when the time came, she’d never conceive her children in such a bizarre place.

Sylvie unpacked her bag and put on all the clothes she’d brought, wrapping herself in the blanket too. It was cosy enough, though she was sure she’d feel the cold later as the temperature dropped. She had a little food and drink but saved most of it for Yul the next day. The muscles in her legs twitched with fatigue now she’d finally stopped walking. She was looking forward to sleep after walking so far, with an equally long walk ahead tomorrow. It was quiet up here on the hillside, the generator down by the caravans just a distant throb, and the men’s voices now quiet. It occurred to Sylvie that she’d never before spent a night out in the open, and here she was alone, at the place of bones and death. Magus had said he admired her bravery but she didn’t feel very brave right now.

Gazing down into the quarry, she felt a sudden sharp prickle of fear. It was dark and shadowy down there but she thought she’d seen a movement amongst the deep canyons of stone. Daylight was fading fast, thickening into darkness, and her eyes strained in the gloom to see what crept in the quarry. Another movement over her shoulder, pale in the corner of her vision, made her jump. She swivelled in alarm, her heart thudding, ready
to leap up and run. But then she smiled, exhaling in relief. A great white barn owl glided silently overhead, circling on soft wings. She felt safe now, as if her guardian had arrived to protect her. She closed her eyes, ignoring the yawning darkness of the quarry below, and hoped for sleep.

S
ylvie found sleep impossible, despite her exhaustion. The night was alive with strange, inexplicable noises and the quarry, so very close by, frightened her. She lay tucked into the great boulder and knew she couldn’t possibly roll over the edge in her sleep. Yet still she felt the terrible sensation that she was being sucked inexorably towards the quarry, dragged slowly along the grass till she reached the edge. And then something would suddenly rise up out of the darkness below and pull her in, swallowing her down into the black depths. She tried very hard to squash such terrifying, illogical thoughts.

Sylvie gazed upwards, watching the sky slowly darken and stars appear, one by one, thousand by thousand, until the whole sky was peppered with them. A crescent moon hung low over the hill, tilted and yellow as it set. Sylvie nodded to herself – the huntress’ bow. She was the Maiden and must be brave and strong in her quest to save her friend. The barn owl soared above and gave her comfort. Inside the quarry the ivy rustled and shivered in the slight breeze.

Down by the caravans, Yul was dozing where he sat slumped on the hard ground by Jackdaw’s feet. The men had been playing cards for hours and now slurred their speech, still demanding more beer every so often but slowing down as the effects of the long hard day took their toll. As they stumbled off to their caravans one by one, Yul rose painfully and fetched a bin liner
to collect up the dozens of beer cans tossed all over the grass. So much rubbish – he’d never come across it before, as everything in the Village was made of natural materials and recycled or composted. He hated this Outside World junk defiling Stonewylde.