Solstice at Stonewylde (50 page)

T
he drums had quietened to a soft throbbing heartbeat as the Stonewylde folk gazed silently at the darkening skies. The sun had set on the Stone Circle leaving only a pale pink whisper. The Winter Solstice Eve ceremony had been subdued, led ably enough by Edward but somehow lacking its normal thrill. It had been replaced by a dreadful sense of anticipation, as if the whole community, Villager and Hallfolk, held its breath.

‘Bloody typical,’ Holly muttered bitterly as she looked around the shadowy Circle. ‘At this rate I think all of us due for our Rite of Adulthood tomorrow will have to postpone it. This should be one of the most important occasions of my life and it’s not fair to have it ruined like this!’

‘Don’t worry, darling, we’ll speak to Magus later on and arrange everything,’ said her mother, immaculately turned out and wearing a smart cloak. ‘We can’t let this silly business with that dreadful girl spoil your special day. William’s told us all about her, ghastly creature. Clip’s daughter indeed! And I can’t believe that Magus was so harsh with you just because you pointed out a few home truths to her. Is there something wrong with him, do you think? I’ve heard some rumours and one does wonder …’

‘Well they’re saying lots of things, but mostly that Magus may not even be the magus by tomorrow,’ said Holly. ‘And really, maybe it’d be better if he weren’t, now he’s so cruel and peculiar.’

‘Ridiculous nonsense all that gossip!’ growled her father. ‘As if
some bloody Village peasant could oust Magus! I don’t know – Stonewylde isn’t what it used to be. Some damn fool’s even got the Altar Stone image wrong for the Solstice festival. I don’t like being led in a ceremony by a Villager and I don’t like the atmosphere here tonight. There’s no respect and no deference. Magus will have to deal with this swiftly if he wants to maintain the status quo.’

Holly’s parents linked arms and joined the masses leaving the Circle. Holly trailed behind with her friends, who crowded around her in support.

‘So Yul won’t be your partner tomorrow night, then?’ said Rainbow innocently.

‘For Goddess’ sake, don’t wind her up!’ groaned July.

‘It won’t be any of the three I’d originally have liked, now that Buzz is gone and Magus has disappeared,’ said Holly. ‘Not that I’d want
him
any more. Where is he tonight anyway? He can’t just disappear like this.’

‘He announced at lunch that he’d be elsewhere tonight, didn’t he?’ said Dawn. ‘Though what’s happened to Clip I don’t know – he was meant to be leading the ceremony. Doesn’t it feel weird this evening? There’s a horrible brooding feel, like something dreadful’s about to happen.’

‘I think it is,’ said Rainbow. ‘I think everything they’re gossiping about really will happen. We all know how Magus has completely lost it. I think Yul‘s going to kill him and take over and we’ll all be chucked out.’

‘Rainbow! Don’t even think it!’ said Wren in horror.

‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ said Holly. ‘Ever since that little cow turned up things have gone wrong. She’s ruined Stonewylde – it’s all
her
fault.’

‘Nonsense!’ said Hazel briskly, coming up behind them. ‘If there’s anything wrong at Stonewylde it certainly isn’t Sylvie’s fault. You need to look to the top to find the cause.’

‘Yeah? With loyalty like that I’m not surprised Magus is having a hard time,’ said Fennel belligerently. ‘Have you switched sides, Hazel? Fancy yourself as a rough Villager now? Pity your hair’s
the wrong colour and you’ve got a brain in your skull then.’

‘And it’s youngsters like you who prove just how flawed this whole feudal system is,’ retorted Hazel. ‘It’s about time other qualities were recognised and rewarded at Stonewylde. You may well find your blond hair a bit of a curse after tomorrow, young man!’

As the light thickened and the first stars began to peep, Yul ran lightly along the paths of the steep-sided labyrinth. He twisted his way from the shallow end at the mouth where the quarry was only just below ground level, to the far end of the vast horseshoe where the sheer cliff face led straight up to the top of the hill. His journey through the canyons of stone may have seemed random, but like most aspects of the landscape at Stonewylde, nothing was without significance. This was not a structured, seven-coiled labyrinth but nevertheless, the journey through its paths was ritualistic. Yul’s feet trod the ancient passageway as so many others had before, and in doing so the spell was woven, the summons completed, and the beast animated into voracious life. Yul was heading for the Snake Stone.

This special stone was a column of white, sparkling rock, many metres high, standing inside the far end of the quarry like a great chimney. It stood apart from the high cliff face, and the dangerous chasm between them was a precarious mess of jagged, smashed rock and great unstable chunks of stone debris. The top of this giant pillar of stone had been flattened into a platform but it was difficult, though not impossible, to go directly from the hill to the platform, even though they were of similar heights. The best and slightly safer way to reach the top of the Snake Stone was by travelling through the quarry itself and then climbing a steep and treacherous path upwards, over tumbled rocks and boulders which formed rough steps, to the summit.

Rising from its bed of jumbled stone like a fist thrusting up from the grave, the Snake Stone was no natural phenomenon. It had been hewn into its smooth pillar shape and snakes were carved all over it, massive coiling serpents that writhed and
twisted themselves up the sides of the rock to the very top. The entire column was formed of the same glittering stone as the disc of rock at Mooncliffe, and it was where Magus had sourced the stone for his eggs.

As Yul came closer to the quarry face at the end, he gazed upwards and shuddered. If Quarrycleave was a natural temple of death, the Snake Stone was the altar. And it was on this altar, so very different to the one in the Stone Circle where he received his Earth Magic, that Yul felt he should confront Magus. Somehow that felt right; all he had guiding him tonight was his instinct. In the rapidly fading light he began to climb the winding path leading up over the boulders towards the summit. It was a sharp and dangerous climb but at last he reached the platform on top of the pillar of Snake Stone and he stood there, still and silent, surveying the darkening scene below.

The quarry was a vast stone-scape of shadows far below him. The pathways between the rocks were channels of blackness and anything could be lurking down there in the maze of stone. Yul felt the menacing atmosphere pressing on his soul and recalled the awful compulsion he’d succumbed to last summer when he’d wanted to sacrifice his life to feed the maw. He’d only been prevented from suicide by Sylvie and the two creatures summoned to save him. Tonight, once again, he experienced that growing dread, that same feeling of pain, terror and death, although this time he had everything to live for.

Yul sensed something of the ritual slaughter performed in this hollow place over the ages. But he knew nothing of the remains of many bodies concealed beneath him; the bones, skulls and sad fragments of things once held precious by the ancestors of Stonewylde. He knew nothing of the past sacrifices of blood and flesh, the torture and murders committed in the name of appeasement and supplication to ancient gods, out of greed and man’s eternal lust for power. Quarrycleave was where the darkest and most dangerous aspects of Stonewylde were focused, and a fitting arena for the fulfilment of the prophecy which had overshadowed his whole life. Yul knew the quarry was the Place
of Bones and Death, the place where tonight he must face his father for the final time.

The Land Rover bumped up the track to the quarry, pot-holed and gullied by years of winter rains and neglect. His two passengers held on tightly as they bounced in their seats. Magus drove like the devil, swerving violently to avoid the worst potholes but never slowing his breakneck pace. His face was grim and he swore softly under his breath, a continuous stream of invective against Yul, the boy who threatened his very existence as Magus of Stonewylde. He’d counted on feeding on Sylvie’s moon magic at Mooncliffe tonight, for strong and fit though he was, without that special energy he was no more than an ordinary man. Magus thought again what a good job it was that he had two of Jackdaw’s brutish mates at his side. He’d noted the sunset with glee; finally the binding spell was broken and he was free to rid himself of the brat.

He seethed at Yul’s duplicity and greed, knowing how much power the boy had literally at his fingertips. Only yesterday Magus had seen him glow with it, the energy crackling around him. How could he be so greedy as to want the moon magic as well? Magus cursed him again, and that ungrateful little bitch. He’d laid his heart open to her, offered her the world, yet she’d only willingly share her gift with his bastard son who didn’t even need it. When he got hold of them tonight, nothing would stop him exacting his revenge. With the two thugs to help, he’d kill the boy slowly. And then he’d turn his attention to Sylvie and her punishment. He wasn’t sure which he looked forward to the most.

As they reached the field at the foot of the hill, Sylvie broke free from Clip’s grasp. She ran through the cold grass and around the boulders, up towards the dark stone silhouetted against the pale blue sky at the top. The sun was gone; a peachy glow marked its point of departure and a single bright star twinkled in the clear sky. The temperature was dropping rapidly as Sylvie raced up the
hill, followed more slowly by her long-legged father.

She paused when she reached a small fire smouldering in the half-light and Clip caught up, staring down at the remains of Violet’s handiwork. Sylvie turned unseeing eyes to him, cocking her head as if listening to something.

Something bad here
,
something not right
.
Where are my hares to honour the Bright Lady? My feet are heavy and all is wrong
.

Harold slid one of the keys dangling from the heavy iron ring into the lock, turning it slowly. He really didn’t want to be here but had the strangest feeling that something was amiss. He’d been racing around the Hall, empty of Hallfolk and servants, trying to locate the source of his foreboding. He’d hoped to discover what was wrong before he came to Magus’ apartments; creeping into these private chambers was petrifying, even though Magus had been sighted going off in the Land Rover earlier. It was Sylvie that Harold was really concerned about, and whether she’d been safely spirited away. Pushing the great door open a little, he tiptoed into the huge, darkening room, terrified of what he might find. But all seemed silent and still and Sylvie was nowhere in sight. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Harold stepped forward into the shadows.

A strange noise halted him and he froze in terror, every hair on his body bristling. Something was stirring in the corner; a long dark shape that sighed and moaned. Harold’s mouth clamped shut over his dry tongue and his eyes darted wildly about. What dark magic was this? What terrible creature was lurking in Magus’ rooms? He knew where the light switch was and twisted to find it, his hand scrabbling in the darkness that deepened by the second. In his fear he couldn’t locate the switch and a sob escaped him.

He sensed movement in the shadows and just as his fingers found the switch, something grabbed hold of his ankle like the jaws of a trap. Harold screamed as the light burst on. And there, latched onto his leg, lay Martin. Spread full length on the floor and pale as death, the man looked up at the boy, his face twisted
and strange. Harold saw the great purple swelling on his temple and the way his mouth was working, eyes rolling up into his skull at the effort of moving and trying to speak.

‘Martin! What happened?’ Harold cried in alarm. ‘Oh … your head!’

‘We must stop them! We must find the moongazy girl and take her to Mooncliffe to the master.’

Martin’s speech was horribly slurred and Harold tried to shake him off but Martin’s grip was solid. The tall man began to pull himself to his feet and Harold nearly lost his balance.

‘Help me, boy! The girl must be captured – the master’s waiting for her and
everything
depends on this.’

Harold hesitated, a lifetime of training and obedience battling with his desire to help Yul. Martin had struggled to all fours and started to push himself up into a standing position. Staggering, he grabbed Harold’s shoulder, almost pulling him down.

‘No! I won’t help you. Sylvie can’t go to Magus. She’s with Yul—’

‘So – another viper in the nest!’ Martin hissed, reeling alarmingly and fixing his bloodshot eyes on the boy. He made a lunge for Harold who leapt backwards trying to avoid the long grasp. The keys jangled and Harold realised what he must do.

He flicked the light switch so the room was plunged once more into shadows, flung the heavy door open and escaped into the dark corridor outside, slamming it shut behind him. Fumbling desperately, he tried to get the key into the lock. He could hear Martin bellowing with rage on the other side, crashing into something as he tried to reach the door in time. Harold’s hands shook violently as he managed to slide the key in the lock, exactly at the moment he saw the handle begin to turn. With a cry he twisted the key and felt it catch, the handle rattling uselessly from the other side.

Sobbing with relief, he crumpled against the door jamb.

‘I’m sorry, sir! I can’t let you help Magus. He’s turned bad and we must help Yul now. Yul’s the one to lead us.’

From the other side of the door he heard Martin’s wave of vitriol as the man pounded on the heavy wood.