Solstice at Stonewylde (6 page)

‘Swallow!’ he growled, pouring the liquid down Yul’s throat. Yul gagged and choked on the bitterness and Jackdaw smiled, his gold tooth glinting. His face started to swim and melt away and Yul’s fears were confirmed; he’d been drugged once more. Jackdaw laughed as he saw the change in Yul’s eyes.

‘That’s a good boy, Yul. Taking your medicine nicely now, ain’t you? We don’t want you getting up halfway through and trying to leg it. This’ll stop you wriggling but it won’t knock you out. Magus wants you conscious for the ceremony.’

Jackdaw stood up as people approached, and positioned
himself by the sleds. Yul could see and hear although everything was strangely distorted and elongated, but found he couldn’t move a muscle. The group wore hooded black robes and skull masks and for Yul, reality spiralled out of reach.

‘How many folk wish to enter the Stone Labyrinth tonight?’ asked Magus, his voice formal and ceremonial.

‘Five,’ answered Jackdaw, now wearing a bird mask. He looked like a real jackdaw.

‘The five who enter the Stone Labyrinth must perform the Dance of Death. Are they prepared for this?’

‘They are.’

‘Have their closest relatives agreed that they should perform the Dance of Death?’

‘They have.’

‘And are these Death Dancers prepared for the Dark Angel, who may tonight come in their midst and take their souls to the Otherworld?’

‘They are.’

Magus paused, looking in turn at each of the bodies on the sleds. He was quite terrifying in the skull mask.

‘Bearers, step forward.’

Five robed people stood before him and he addressed them solemnly.

‘Tonight you bearers may look Death itself in the face and you must turn away, for you belong in the Realm of the Living. Before you enter the Stone Labyrinth, you must be fortified. This wine is the fruit of the elder, the sacred tree of the dead, and represents the blood of the earth, the blood of death, and the blood of birth. Drink deeply of the wine in preparation for the part you must play in the Dance of Death.’

A squat female figure with a small cauldron and ladle came forward. One by one the bearers knelt before Magus, who held a ladle of the dark liquid to their mouths for them to drink. He then moved to the white figures, supine on the sleds, and poured a tiny amount of wine over their unresponsive lips. But when Magus came to Yul, the bearer stood aside. Jackdaw crouched
and lifted the boy’s head, tipping it back and opening his mouth. He winked as Yul’s terrified eyes met his, only centimetres away. Magus slowly poured a whole ladle full of the wine down his throat, giving him time to swallow without choking. Yul felt the thick, warm wine slide down into his empty stomach. Jackdaw looked up and nodded, and Magus gave him another ladleful.

Yul, already drugged from the little bottle of liquid, felt his body melt into paralysis as if his bones were dissolving. Before him he saw Magus flex his claws and purr with pleasure. The Jackdaw strutted forward and bowed to the Cat. Then the black-robed bearers took up the ropes and began to drag the Death Dancers’ sleds towards the entrance of the Stone Labyrinth.

W
ithin the Stone Circle the transformation was complete. The circus of joy and celebration had become a carousel of darkness and death. Painted emblems of the dead danced and flickered on each great stone, lit from beneath by flaming torches. On the beaten earth floor the lines of the labyrinth were defined with black stones and candles in red glass jars, glimmering like tiny pools of blood to mark the sacred path. In the centre of this Stone Labyrinth rose a flat-topped pyre, a raft of death large enough to consume several corpses.

The first bearer dragged his sled under the elder arch, brushing beneath the hanging feathers and bones. The black-robed figure and his white-tuniced burden stepped onto the path of the labyrinth and the Dance of Death began. Yul knew that the pattern itself marked the dance, and led the dancer by twists and turns into the Realm of the Otherworld. Tonight at Samhain, with the veil between the worlds so thin, the dead would be visible. Echoing around the arena, the drums were like heartbeats thudding out their final rhythm and a lone voice chanted eerily in a song for the dead. The birds of the Otherworld were now here, having left the Village once the Samhain Bonfire was lit. Crows, jackdaws, rooks, blackbirds and starlings perched on every stone forming a ring of black feathers and bright eyes.

Finally it was Yul’s turn to enter the labyrinth; he was the last. His bearer tugged and the sled moved forward, sliding across the soft earth. It was a strange sensation for Yul, lying inert on his
back – lurching but gliding, and very slow. Reality had vanished and his world had imploded into this circle, this pattern; the red flickering lights below his vision, the torches and capering skulls and crows above. The drumming and chanting were deep and unearthly, and in the slight mist inside the Circle the temperature was dropping steadily. Yul’s skin was cold; his feet and hands were numb already. He tried to close his eyes, wanting only to block out this vision of horror, but couldn’t. The Dance of Death was inexorable.

The Great Barn was alive with merriment and laughter, the community having feasted well and all now freely drinking cider and elderberry wine. With the young children tucked up in bed, the older children and adults were having a riotous time. The Barn looked fantastical with all the candles inside the pumpkins and skulls lit and flickering. Flocks of black papier-mâché birds moved in the hot air or perched realistically on the rafters. The dancing was wild, the musicians tireless and Miranda sat on one of the benches at the edge fanning herself. She was hot and uncomfortable, too pregnant to join in the galloping dances. Sylvie sat listless and exhausted next to her, the earlier resolve to fight Magus now seeped away. It had been a long day and all she wanted was get back to her bed, but Magus wasn’t here so she couldn’t ask to leave. Would he be angry if she went back to the Hall now, having made such a fuss this morning about her joining in the celebrations?

She thought wearily about what he’d said to her earlier but her tired head was a jumble of confusion. If Magus intended to talk to her again in the morning she must sleep soon, as she’d need all her strength to stand up to him and his silver tongue. Perhaps she could use her gift of moon magic as a bargaining tool to help Yul? Sylvie closed her eyes, trying to block out the noise and heat of the celebration. The only thing that would make it bearable here tonight was if Yul were around. She wanted so much to see him, to make sure that he really was alright as Magus had said. She wondered what he was doing up at the Stone Circle tonight.
What sort of ceremony was taking place up there?

She concentrated hard and suddenly an image flashed into her mind: hundreds of black birds perched on the tall stones looking down; drumming and chanting, slow and sinister; red lights flickering in the mist; black-hooded figures with skulls for faces dragging heavy burdens after them. Sylvie felt terror, a suffocating sensation of being trapped and unable to move, a certain knowledge that something terrible was going to happen. She opened her eyes with a jolt, her heart thudding.

She noticed Rosie getting a drink from the bar and stood up, swaying slightly.

‘I’m just going to speak to someone, Mum.’

Miranda nodded.

‘Alright, and then we’ll go home. I’ve had enough and I’m sure Magus won’t mind us leaving, seeing as he appears to have already left himself.’

Rosie was pleased to see Sylvie but concerned that she looked so ill.

‘It’s okay, Rosie, I’m off to bed in a minute. But I wanted to ask you what Yul’s doing up at the Stone Circle tonight. Is he alright? I’ve been having some really strange thoughts …’

Rosie frowned.

‘The Stone Circle? I don’t know, miss. I haven’t seen him since the last Moon Fullness ‘cause he’s been at the Hall ever since. We’ve all been very worried. So you ain’t seen him neither?’

Sylvie shook her head, dread growing inside her.

‘Magus told me this afternoon that Yul was fine, although Tom from the stables told me earlier that Yul was in a bad way. And Magus definitely said that Yul was going to the Stone Circle tonight.’

‘Well, our father’s up there. He’s a Death Dancer and he’ll meet the Dark Angel tonight. ‘Tis time for him to let go of life and pass on into the Otherworld, but not Yul … I’m really scared, miss. Something’s not right here.’

The two girls stared at each other, their eyes wide with fear, united in their concern for Yul.

‘I think he’s in danger,’ said Sylvie. ‘I felt it a moment ago. He’s trapped somehow and can’t escape.’

Rosie nodded.

‘I think you’re right and I’ll find Mother now and tell her. Are you alright, miss? Take my arm a minute – you look so faint.’

The girls held on to each other whilst all about them, the community whirled around in a mad carousel of music and laughter. Sylvie was pale as death, Rosie flushed and agitated. She patted the older girl’s arm reassuringly, alarmed at her unsteadiness.

‘You go on to the Hall now – there’re horses and carts for Hallfolk outside so don’t try to walk, will you? I’ll let you know what happens somehow, and don’t worry, miss, I promise we’ll find Yul.’

The first sled had reached the centre of the labyrinth. The elderberry wine and potion had effectively paralysed Yul. He showed no more signs of life than the other four bodies, except for his eyes. As his sled lurched along its tortuous path, his beautiful grey eyes were once again wild and dilated, darting around to watch terrors both real and imagined. At last his sled entered the area in the centre and he was pulled around to face the pyre.

Seated on the top was a gruesome figure; a crone dressed in shreds of grey rag that hung from her sagging body. Her wiry hair sprang madly from her skull in long grey skeins. She wore no mask, but white unguent of some sort had been rubbed into her skin which gave her a cadaverous look and accentuated the wrinkles and seams that furrowed her face. Her toothless mouth was a cavernous hole, her eye-sockets pools of shadow. She held a lantern on her lap which shone up into her hideous face, creating macabre shadows. She cackled as Yul was turned to face her, and even in his hallucinatory state he recognised the evil laughter of Old Violet.

Magus, Jackdaw, another hag and a crow-masked figure stepped forward, and Jackdaw, who now wore a death mask, climbed the wooden steps to the flat summit of the pyre. He stood behind
the crone, enormous and dark, his arms raised, whilst Magus, the hag and the crow man began to slowly circle the centre around the sleds and pyre, chanting to the drum beat. It was very dark, for there was no extra light and the torches on the stones only lit their immediate area. The cold was intensifying as the night grew later and mist curled in wisps just above the ground, glowing red above the tiny lights.

‘You’ve completed the Dance of Death,’ intoned Magus, ‘and reached the Gateway to the Otherworld. The dead await, peering through the veil to see who approaches. They are beckoning, inviting you to join them. Death is merely a rebirth into another world and now is the time to let go your hold on this life and move on to the next.’

He paused, looking up at the sinister figures of Jackdaw and the old woman on the pyre.

‘It is almost the hour of midnight. The old year is dying, the new one beginning, and the Dark Angel draws near. He alone will decide who accompanies him to the Otherworld. The Dark Angel alone will choose. Now is the time for the living to leave this circle and return to their realm. Bearers, depart!’

The bearers left the centre in single file and wended their way back around the path of the labyrinth. Finally they arrived at the edge of the Stone Circle, joining up with the others there – the drummers, singers and a few relatives of the dying people. Someone in robes started to organise a procession back down along the Long Walk as it was the custom to leave Magus and a couple of acolytes up in the Circle, alone with the dying. Nobody wanted to be in the Stone Labyrinth at midnight for the summoning. There were whispered tales of things that had happened over the years, and nobody wished to encounter the Dark Angel and look him in the eye.

Magus and the attendants who’d remained in the centre all now stood on the pyre platform. Yul could see the five of them clearly from where he lay helpless, hallucinating and in a state of terror. They seemed huge and grotesque so high up above him.

‘By the power of the sacred Stone Circle and the wisdom of the
dark birds, I summon the Dark Angel to the portals of this world!’ called the crow-masked man, and Yul recognised Martin’s voice.

‘As the Crone of Samhain, I call on the Dark Angel as the veil stretches thin!’ cried Violet, her withered arms upraised and face hideous with excitement. ‘We summon you now to this Stone Labyrinth. We ask you to take these souls with you tonight to the Otherworld.’

‘These five are ready and they await your presence this Samhain,’ said Martin, his robe flapping like wings as he moved his arms. His beak nodded upwards repeatedly in exactly the movement of a crow.

‘We summon you to the Circle tonight to take these five souls!’ croaked the hag hoarsely. ‘Take them tonight, Dark Angel!’

Vetchling, Violet and her son Martin bowed to Magus and made their way down the steps to the ground. They joined the others at the arch of elder leading out into the Long Walk, and only Magus and Jackdaw now remained with the five bodies. Yul glanced around as far as his eyes could move, for his head wouldn’t turn at all. He knew that Magus and Jackdaw would soon leave too, and then the Dark Angel would come. And then he’d die.