Solstice at Stonewylde (54 page)

And then – the Green Man himself! Surely? A young man with dark hair, clad in green and brown. His skin was mottled with lichen and leaves formed a halo around his head. The green
magic chased and danced about him as he walked from the circle of trees, smiling at Siskin, leaves sprouting from his mouth and nostrils. The old professor felt a strange flutter in his chest, like a bird flexing its wings before it flew away. He sank down to the frosty ground and curled himself up like a child, cradled in the loving bosom of Mother Earth.

The Green Man came close and smiled down at him, his bright eyes flashing warmth and merriment. He held out a hand in invitation and the young Siskin stood up easily, joints now strong and supple, following him into the sacred grove to become one with the ancestors of Stonewylde. Siskin had finally returned from exile back to the magical place he loved so dearly, just as Sylvie had promised. The spirit of the young man rejoiced in its freedom and release, whilst the old man’s body remained in the frosty grass beneath the cold, starry sky.

In the pentangle a third candle guttered and suddenly extinguished itself. Mother Heggy muttered her incantations and continued to rock backwards and forwards in the shadowy hovel. She had no idea who the Dark Angel had taken, but she believed in her heart she’d know if it were Magus or either of her special ones. The room was still warm; the wood she’d banked up on the fire had caught hold and was burning brightly. Firelight flickered around the tiny cottage, chasing the darkness from the corners as Mother Heggy raised the goblet and sipped at the drink slowly, then nibbled at the cake with her bony gums. Two of the green flames still burnt steadily. Two who must die tonight were still living – she begged the Goddess once more that Yul and Sylvie were not the two.

The Hallfolk and servants had returned to the Hall and lights blazed from every window. Adults sipped mulled wine in the drawing room, library and Galleried Hall, while the servants scurried about in the kitchens preparing dinner for them. Hallfolk children raced all over the stately home in a state of high excitement, whilst the teenagers gathered in knots, discussing what
would happen the following day with the Rite of Adulthood. None of the normal preparations had been made and Magus, having been more or less absent for the past few weeks, was still nowhere to be found. Confusion and dissatisfaction reigned amongst the Hallfolk, whilst the servants tried to go about their business as if nothing were amiss.

Nobody questioned Martin’s absence. The servants knew that he’d intended to assist Magus at the Moon Fullness and some did wonder where he could be now. If Magus had been successfully lured to Quarrycleave, there’d be little for Martin to do at Mooncliffe. But it was so hectic coping with the disgruntled Hallfolk that no one thought to search the Hall for him.

So Martin, lying injured on the floor in Magus’ rooms, went unnoticed. Harold had long since abandoned his spot on the stairs and was now busy stoking fires in the rooms downstairs, grateful for a return to normality. He thought every so often of the man lying upstairs, locked in Magus’ apartments, but tried to put him to the back of his mind as he traipsed around with log baskets.

In the darkness Martin had collapsed again, exhausted by his attempts to escape the rooms. The huge purple oedema on his temple pulsed as he lay sprawled in a heap, his breathing shallow and his pulse thready. The temperature in the vast room dropped steadily, for the fire remained unlit, and Martin grew colder by the minute.

Magus shoved Yul through the twisting corridors, his arm forced so far up behind his back that his bones creaked, making for the caves at the head of the quarry. Yul had tried struggling but feared for his arm, which Magus wrenched even more brutally at any suggestion of resistance. It was difficult to see anything, deep in the stone canyons where the moonlight failed to reach. As they neared a great pile of broken rock, Magus paused, yanking Yul to a stop.

‘Do you know what’s under there?’ he asked, his voice hard and cruel. ‘No? Let me tell you then – six men. Six of the men
you worked with in the summer – well-rotted by now I should imagine, if the air’s got anywhere near the corpses. Death, Yul – death is what Quarrycleave is all about. Can you feel it, just around the corner waiting for you? Here, tonight, you will die.’

‘I will not die tonight,’ said Yul quietly. ‘Tonight I’ll take my place as the new magus.’

Magus’ laughter pealed out, its volume shocking in the silence. With one hand he held Yul tight, and with the other pulled a vicious hunting knife from its sheath at his waist. He waved it before Yul’s eyes, the blade gleaming wickedly. He pricked the tip into Yul’s side and Yul gasped, having no idea of the depth of the stab wound but feeling a sharp pain.

‘You’re a joke, boy. New magus! How are you going to achieve that, exactly? Do you have any weapons on you? No, of course you don’t. I could kill you now and throw your body on that pile of rock for the rats and carrion crows to dispose of. The only reason I haven’t is because I need to find Sylvie. We can’t abandon her here all alone in the darkness, can we? And I want to witness the touching farewell scene as the star-crossed lovers take leave of each other.’

‘That won’t happen.’

‘You’re not in a position to argue. Which cave is she in? Show me, boy!’

‘Never.’

‘Where is she? You
will
tell me!’

He jabbed the knife again into Yul’s side and this time the pain was very sharp. Yul felt a hot wetness inside his shirt which terrified him – he couldn’t die now, not like this.

He looked around desperately. They were right at the head of the quarry, near the bed of jumbled rock that surrounded the base of the Snake Stone. Massive boulders and huge chunks of stone surrounded them, blasted long ago from the hillside itself, eating into the green land that rose much higher above. The moonlight penetrated this more open area, silvering the rock and creating deep pools of blackness in the recesses. Yul heard another strange noise, a kind of sigh, and felt something evil
stirring in the black depths of the maze behind them. His hackles rose.

But then ahead, over to one side, he suddenly noticed a raven, huge and dark, strutting along a rock. It seemed to have materialised from out of nowhere and he started and stiffened, wincing with the pain in his side. Magus sensed this, loosening his grip as he swung round to see what had caught the boy’s attention. With a rapid twist Yul yanked his arm free and leapt onto a rock, scrambling upwards as fast as injury allowed. Magus followed rapidly but Yul turned and kicked him full in the face. Blood sprayed onto the white stone, shockingly dark. Magus roared and fell back, trying to stem the flow, and Yul seized his advantage.

He leaped up the rocks like someone possessed, fear giving him strength and speed. He slipped many times, each time regaining his balance and climbing upwards. The pain in his side from the double puncture wounds became stronger and he knew he bled badly. He could hear Magus below, giving chase but far less agile than him, and gradually losing ground. At last Yul reached the place where the boulders formed a rocky path up to the top of the Snake Stone. He saw the great raven above him and knew he’d been guided here – he must go back up to the very top, on the platform of rock. His instinct had been to hide and dodge, but now, to be magus, he must flush out his hunter and confront him in the open. It was time.

Magus paused, panting for breath, on a boulder below the Snake Stone. He wiped the blood from his face again and could see Yul clearly up above. The figure stood tall on the stone, his head thrown back, face washed in moonlight. His dark hair hung down to his shoulders and the bright moonlight chiselled his face into strong planes and deep hollows. Magus realised with a shock that he was looking no longer at a boy but at a man – a man who seemed to glow in the moonlight. For the first time, Magus felt a genuine tingle of fear. Yul pulsed with power and strength. He stood with his legs apart and his face turned to the moon. And despite everything, despite his injuries, he wasn’t scared; he wanted this confrontation.

Magus could just make out Sylvie standing behind him. The moonlight shone full onto Yul and in comparison she was faint and shadowy. Magus saw her wild silver hair and her white skin, her thin arms and legs bare in the cold winter’s night. He felt a shiver of excitement at the sight of her, his moongazy girl. And she belonged to him – not that upstart son of his. He clambered up the last rocks, breathing heavily with exertion despite his fitness.

By the time Magus reached the top of the Snake Stone, Yul stood there alone. Magus climbed onto the platform and the two men faced each other, almost the same height. They could see each other clearly in the moonlight which shone as brightly as the sun, but silver not gold. Glittering black eyes locked into smouldering grey ones.

‘Boys and girls come out to play! Where’s she gone?’

‘Sylvie’s not here – she’s at Hare Stone.’

‘Of course she’s here. You said she was.’

‘I lied. I’d never put Sylvie in danger.’

‘Yes, you
are
a liar! I saw her here, right next to you, just now. I know you’re planning to take her moon magic, but it belongs to me! You have no right to—’

‘I don’t need her magic – I have my own.’

Yul held out a hand, identical to Magus’, and they both saw the tiny sparks coursing from his square finger-tips. Yul reached out to touch him but Magus stepped back, drawing his knife again. He teetered at the edge of the platform and his eyes rolled in alarm, but then his foot brushed something and he looked down.

‘My moon eggs!’ he cried, bending and picking one up. ‘I knew you’d stolen them!’

He closed his eyes as the energy coursed through him, quicksilver in his veins. Nothing came close to this ecstasy, this pulsing explosion of power that filled him with silver magic. He smiled and opened his eyes to glare at Yul, the icy venom strengthening his bloodlust. Sylvie had returned and once again stood in Yul’s shadow, staring at Magus with moon-filled eyes. He raised his
hand clenched around the heavy stone egg and showed her.

‘See? I got my eggs back after all and it was pointless trying to fight me, Sylvie. I always win in the end. And now I have my magic back and you’ll both suffer. Yul will die slowly. But for
you
, Sylvie, death will be an impossible dream.’

‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Yul. ‘You’re mad!’

‘Get out of my way! Sylvie’s mine – move aside, boy!’

He brandished the knife at Yul, the blade glinting in the moonlight.

‘You’re imagining things – Sylvie
isn’t
here,’ said Yul firmly. ‘You and I are here to resolve this conflict, as the prophecy predicted at my birth. I’ve risen up against you and I have the folk behind me – nearly all the Villagers, and even a few Hallfolk, want me to replace you as magus. You’ve had your day and you’re finished. I’m overthrowing you but I’m giving you a choice. I’ve no wish to kill you although believe me, I will if I have to. So you choose – exile or death. Which is it to be?

Magus laughed, the sounds bouncing around the stone arena and echoing back in manic amplification.

‘Yul, my son, I will
never
leave Stonewylde. Nor will I ever concede to you. Why on earth would I? I’ll fight you to the death, for Sylvie and for Stonewylde.’

He stood, tall and magnificent, on the platform of stone, a moon egg in one hand and the long hunting knife in the other. His blond hair gleamed silver and his eyes flashed like pools of blackness.

‘I am Stonewylde and Stonewylde is me! My life is here in this place where I was born, this place that I love. I’ve given my life to Stonewylde and she loves me. You can never win, Yul.’

Yul looked at his father in the moonlight, looked deep into those dark eyes which shone with tiny reflected moons. All his life he’d feared this man, and for much of his life he’d hated this man. And yet, looking at that face, so familiar and hated, he suddenly saw himself. He saw someone else who’d fought back at the world and never given in; someone else who’d stop at nothing to protect and nurture Stonewylde, this beautiful
magical woman of the landscape. And Sylvie was the essence of Stonewylde, part of the same magic. No wonder Magus wanted her as well.

In that instant, Yul saw Magus and recognised himself as a man. And he recalled Sylvie begging him to promise he wouldn’t kill Magus. Suddenly he knew that despite everything, he couldn’t commit murder.

‘Magus, you’re my father and … maybe the time has come for us to put this hatred aside? Forget about the prophecy – I don’t want to kill you and I understand you can’t give up Stonewylde. Can we talk about this?’

He felt the terrible creature stirring below in the darkness, craving and howling for more blood. But it could still be cheated!

‘Yesterday you spoke of a partnership,’ Yul continued, ‘of you and I leading Stonewylde together. That’s the answer! If we could—’

‘No!’ cried Magus. ‘I’ll
never
share with you! You’re dead, Yul, and Sylvie’s mine.’

The knife’s long, vicious blade caught the moonlight, creating a moonbeam of silver, as Magus suddenly lunged forward aiming for his son’s heart. Yul sidestepped quickly and behind him Sylvie laughed, shaking her head, taunting him. She dared to defy him, thinking Yul would protect her. With a growl of anger he swung really hard at Yul with the stone egg in his other hand, trying to smash his son’s skull. Yul stumbled as once again he dodged the blow, grabbing Magus’ arm to right himself. As he touched him, the Earth Magic blazed in a great electric charge and a bolt of pure energy hit Magus, lighting him up like a torch. His silver hair stood out on end, his heart leapt in his chest and his eyeballs sizzled as if they’d explode with the heat and pain.