Solstice at Stonewylde (53 page)

Rocking back and forth and clutching her shawl around her, Mother Heggy moaned and muttered in the centre of her circle, calling on every power to help the boy tonight. She’d sent her crow some time ago, knowing Yul would need all the help she could give. She hoped that somehow Raven had heard the summons and responded, as she’d done at Samhain when Yul was paralysed in the Stone Circle. Mother Heggy knew only too well Magus’ strength, intelligence and utter ruthlessness. Tonight he’d be fighting for his existence at Stonewylde and would stop at nothing to remove the threat that had haunted him for so long.

She hoped desperately that Sylvie was safe up at Hare Stone. She couldn’t send Raven to both her precious ones, and figured that Yul was in the most danger of the two. But Sylvie had the charm pouch for protection and Mother Heggy knew the power this afforded. That magical set of seven sacred objects, all collected by Raven so long ago, should ward off any evil forces. Tonight Mother Heggy could see nothing; her second sight had deserted her completely. She thought again of the five deaths. They were the only thing of which she was sure; the outcome of the battle still eluded her. She shivered and stared hard at the five green points of light about her. All the candles in the pentangle still burned steadily; nobody yet had died.

Up at Hare Stone, harmony had been re-established now the three crones and all visible traces of their dark practice were gone.
Their presence at Sylvie’s sacred site, the place where she must draw down the moon magic into this hill, the womb of Stonewylde, had tainted her moongaziness and kept her creatures at bay. The three women’s malignant intent and physical attack had blocked her true moondancing just as effectively as Magus did, when he forced her to stand on the stone at Mooncliffe.

But Raven, through the power of her charm-bag, had proved herself stronger than the three evil hags and Sylvie was now released from their contaminating influence. The ache where Starling’s enormous bulk had crushed her lungs and ribcage, and the stings from the women’s poking and pinching were forgotten as Sylvie felt again the thrill of dancing for the Bright Lady. This was why she’d been brought to Stonewylde; this was what she must do.

Sylvie danced in the moonlight, her feet brushing the freezing wet grass as she leapt gracefully in spirals around the stone. The hares had crept up the hill and now they raced with her, ears back and long hind legs pounding. The barn owl had also arrived on silent wings and circled overhead. Clip watched in awe at his magical, beautiful daughter in her wild moondance. The brilliant golden moon was higher now, glowing brightly in the cold night air. Sylvie spun around, her cloak and silver hair flying out about her, the diamonds at her throat and wrists sparkling as they caught the moonbeams. Below the brow of the hill the woodsmen stood, silently gazing up at the enchanted figure dancing in the moonlight. Strangely, they all believed they heard the proud, primeval howl of a wolf echoing from the hill top out into the starry night.

The two men finally met up at the head of the quarry, glad to find each other in the silvery darkness. The moon had risen fully and now they saw more clearly what they were up against. The quarry glowed below them in the moonlight, its walls a sheer precipice in places and a tumble of boulders in others. Somewhere down there amongst the piles of rock and deep channels of shadow was their intended prey. And the man who’d hired them.
He should’ve been up here to meet them and now they had no instructions. Fingering their guns, they stared uneasily into the blackness below. Both were hard and experienced and neither had any qualms about their role here, yet something made them feel very uneasy. Neither would admit it was fear.

They waited for a while, unsure how to get down into the quarry from this great height and not prepared to risk their lives trying. With their employer nowhere in sight and all silent below, they had a whispered conference and agreed to go back down the hill together to the mouth of the quarry and see if he was there. Both were becoming edgy, despite their experience. There was something going on here that they didn’t understand; something otherworldly and unreal that was beyond their knowledge of violence and death.

The two men dodged the boulders that lay strewn everywhere as they made their way back down the hill. They were beginning to feel hunted, as if something were stalking them. Both felt the menace of the place, the brooding atmosphere of terror and bloodshed. They looked back repeatedly over their shoulders and glanced down into the hungry shadows below. They knew that something was watching them – watching and waiting. They sped up, trying to lose whatever was on their tail, keeping their guns ready in case of attack. Their pace quickened and they began to hurry, clumsy in their haste as they swore continuously under their breath, stumbling and losing their footing. Both men had broken into a sweat, prickly beneath the heavy camouflage gear, and panic started to squeeze infectiously at their pumping hearts. They skirted a clump of stunted trees and boulders that blocked their path, forcing them to go even closer to the quarry edge.

Just as they were rushing past a twisted elder tree there was a loud caw, slicing through the absolute silence. They jumped, hearts leaping in shock as a huge black bird launched out of the branches towards them. The heavier man lurched to one side to avoid the wing-flapping nightmare flying straight at his face. He lost his balance but there was nothing to seize to save himself. Almost in slow motion, he started to fall, trying desperately to
twist himself back to safety. But too late; with a cry of disbelief he tumbled over the drop into the void. A second later his companion heard the heavy thud as he hit the rock below, whilst the crow continued to circle overhead and call loudly. Down in the quarry, the bird’s cries echoed and bounced eerily off the stone and both Yul and Magus understood their significance; Yul nodded grimly and Magus cursed softly.

The remaining man scrambled away from the cliff edge in total blind panic. He’d been in tough situations before and was no coward, but there was something here that scared him witless. He knew that had been no accident – the bird had intended to kill. His breath rasping in his chest, he reached another clump of trees. Sweat poured into his eyes as he ran, tripping and falling over stones and pushing himself up again to stumble on madly. It couldn’t be far to the safety of the Land Rover. He glimpsed a large black shape in front and rushed towards the vehicle, only realising his mistake when it was too late.

With a startled whinny Nightwing reared up, eyes rolling madly in the bright moonlight. The man cried out in terror, shielding his head with his arms. His gun clattered to the ground as the great hooves fell down on him with fracturing force. He was hammered to the earth, then trampled again and again as the agitated stallion tried to rid himself of the aggravating mound beneath his feet. Yul heard Nightwing’s mad distress through the darkness and the abrupt silencing of the man’s screams. He took a deep breath; now it was just the two of them, father and son. Now it could begin.

Inside her pentangle, Mother Heggy caught her breath as two of the green candles snuffed out almost simultaneously. Two had died! Two deaths on the eve of the Solstice, and still she had no idea whose.

The moonlight threw everything into monochrome
,
bleaching out all colour and tone
.
Black and white
,
darkness and brightness
,
the white of skin and hair and stone: the black of eye and shadow and fear
.
The
magus and the boy
,
stalking each other in the place of bones and death
.
And now something else was here
,
something that prowled freely amongst the boulders and passages
,
something raised by the spilling of blood
.
The two thugs had sacrificed their lives
,
tempted by the cash stashed uselessly in their pockets
.
Now their bodies lay broken on the stone
,
killed by the black creatures of the night
.
The crow and the dark horse had been summoned by the boy’s magic and he felt powerful knowing that two were fallen
.
But he wasn’t invincible
.

Yul had lost track of Magus as they prowled around the canyons of the quarry. The man had been ahead of him until Yul took a detour, creeping down a narrow alleyway of stone. The moonlight failed to reach the shadows in this dark corridor and suddenly Yul felt a lurch of pure terror. Something was rustling close by, making a snuffling, shuffling noise that he couldn’t place. His eyes darted about wildly trying to locate it, straining in the deep darkness. He felt as if the ground beneath his feet had suddenly become less solid, as if there was a pit looming and he stood on the crumbling brink. Frantically he spun around to retrace his steps and there was Magus, right behind him and so close that his breath fanned Yul’s face. Yul’s legs tensed for flight but too late – Magus’ hand shot out and grabbed his jacket in an iron grip. He laughed in triumph and the noise was strange in the enclosed space.

Magus slammed Yul into the stone wall, knocking the air from his lungs with a grunt. Yul couldn’t get his breath and taking advantage of his incapacity, Magus punched him hard in the stomach. As Yul doubled over in pain, the fist slammed into him again, into the side of his face. His head jerked back into the cushion of ivy.

‘No escape now, you little bastard!’ hissed Magus, pinning Yul by the throat to the stone wall. ‘Where’s Sylvie?’

‘She’s hidden,’ spluttered Yul. ‘You won’t find her.’

With a roar of anger, Magus let him drop and spun him around. He grabbed Yul’s arm and twisted it up behind his back, then pushed him hard into the wall again. He shoved his full weight
into the boy, feeling the crunch and give of skin and bone against solid stone. The noise was sickening, as if ribs at least had been broken

‘
Where is she
?’

‘She’s hiding!’ gasped Yul, barely able to breathe but knowing at all costs he must keep Magus here, at Quarrycleave. ‘I left her so I could find you. She’s in one of the caves.’

‘Why did you bring her here? This is a dangerous place.’

‘She wanted to dance on the Snake Stone for me and give me her moon magic.’

Magus felt the stab of jealousy deep inside.

‘I shall kill you tonight,’ he hissed, lips next to Yul’s ear. ‘I shall kill you very slowly in front of Sylvie. And then I’ll begin
her
punishment.’

The moon shone silver-white, now high in the sky and blindingly bright, and Sylvie came at last to rest. She gasped with exertion having danced and sung for some time, and knelt down in the freezing grass to gaze up in silence. The beautiful Frost Moon was surrounded with a bright halo of silver light, formed by ice crystals high in the cold night air. The hares were now moongazing too, sitting up on their great hind legs. The barn owl had swooped down on silver-feathered wings and now perched on the standing stone, its moon face glowing round and white.

I’ve danced the spirals for you
,
my Bright Lady
,
and brought down the magic to Stonewylde
.
Together with your creatures
,
I’ve honoured you tonight at this special place
.

Clip saw the dew turn to frost, the diamond drops freezing to silver crystals. His hands and feet were numb as he gazed down at his magical, diamond-studded girl, knowing deep in his soul that this was why she was here and this was why she’d been conceived. Stonewylde needed her and he’d created her, a moongazy maiden to bring down the silver moon magic from the Moon Goddess to her sister, the Earth Goddess. Clip sighed; his heart was glad and brimming with pride.

In the pub Professor Siskin stood up a little unsteadily. He’d had a few glasses of cider and made his way to the privy out the back. But afterwards he decided to take a stroll on the Village Green instead of returning to the warm pub. A minute or two in the cold night air would clear his head. The Green, with its ancient history and magic, was his favourite part of Stonewylde. He tottered onto the grass, stiff now with a rime of frost, and looked up. He saw the stars glittering incredibly brightly. Hundreds, thousands, millions of them, so clear at Stonewylde where there was no light pollution. He saw the great face of the full moon shining down, haloed with brightness, and the pale grey hare visible as a shadow on the silver disc.

He wandered right into the middle of the Village Green remembering the cricket matches he’d watched here over recent years and all the other Midsummer and Lammas celebrations he’d been permitted to join. And before that, before Sol had become magus, he remembered other festivals; the maypole dancing at Beltane, the labyrinth at Samhain, the archery at Imbolc. The Green held many happy memories for him stretching back to his early childhood so many years ago.

As he began to think back further, strange images crowded into his head, jostling for attention. People in different clothes dancing, feasting, singing and competing here. He could see and hear them clearly, and as a scholar he recognised their language; it was very old. Then further back still, to a moment in time when woods surrounded this clearing for miles and miles, covering all the land. He saw a great wooden structure built to enclose the sacred grove. This was the heart of the woodland, the vitality and fertility almost tangible in such a magical place. The trees had been consecrated and he saw the yew, much smaller and younger that it had been in its later glory but the same tree nevertheless. He saw too a great lime tree, much like the one Yul had been resting under when he’d taken his photo.