White Horse Talisman (9 page)

“Several holes, actually, but most of them are bunged up with dirt,” laughed Holly.

“You mean … ?” Adam stared at her.

Holly nodded. “Yup. The Blowing Stone is real. It was dragged down from the hill to the village years ago.”

“People said it made too much noise up there when the wind blew,” laughed Owen. “It's in a cottage garden at the crossroads. Want to see it?”

“You're having me on.”

Holly and Owen grinned at each other and urged their ponies forward. Adam followed. They hacked through the village, along the lane and up to the crossroads. Holly dis–mounted and led Harlequin onto the grass verge, where she tied the reins to the bars of a gate.

Adam and Owen followed suit.

“This way, Adam,” Owen called as he and Holly climbed a stile into a small cottage garden.

“This is someone's yard. Should we be in here?” Adam hesitated halfway over the stile.

Owen pointed out a small notice tacked onto a post. “It's a historic site. We're allowed to visit this part of the garden.”

Holly patted a chest-high rock sitting in the middle of an unkempt lawn. “This is the Blowing Stone. See if you can make it work.”

“You mean blow into it?”

Holly and Owen nodded.

Adam walked around the stone. It was riddled with large holes and hollows, some full of dirt. A fern grew out of one hole and drooped artistically down the side.

The stone was an irregular shape, but the top surface was roughly flat. Adam ran his hand over it. Then he spotted what he was looking for: in one corner was a small hole the size of a quarter. It was unlike the other sharp-edged holes and hollows. The rock around the edges of this hole was worn smooth and shiny. He stuck his finger in it. “Is this where you are supposed to put your mouth? It'll never work.”

Holly and Owen grinned.

Adam bent forward, gingerly placed his lips around the hole and blew hard several times. Nothing happened. Red cheeked with effort, he straightened up to catch his breath.

“You have to make a seal all around the edge of the hole,” encouraged Holly. “Then try with your lips pursed. Like blowing a trumpet. But you need more air.”

“Just blow a gigantic raspberry,” advised Owen.

Adam laughed, took in an enormous lungful of air, pursed his lips, bent down and blew as hard as he could.

A sputtering moan echoed through the garden.

Four startled magpies burst out of a nearby hawthorn tree, squawking angrily, and landed on the cottage roof.

“Four for a boy,” chanted Holly, clapping. “Adam, this just might be your lucky day!”

Flushed with success, Adam blew again. The note was louder and longer but still not as impressive as he expected. “It makes a weird noise.”

“Yup. Sounds like a sick cow.” Owen grinned. “Go on … try once more. Pretend you're King Alfred. But I bet you can't make a sound that can be heard all around the vale.”

Adam stretched up and breathed heartily several times.

He walked around the stone again. “I think some of these holes have been stopped up on purpose,” he said. “That's what makes it so hard to blow.” He picked up a small stick and cleared several of the cavities around the side. Finally he sucked in an enormous breath and bent over the Blowing Stone once again.

BRoooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!

The magpies took off in fright, and an astounded Holly clapped her hands over her ears. With a shout of laughter Owen headed for the stile as the note echoed and re-echoed around the garden, through the village and up over the downs.

“Holy mackerel,” said Adam, amazed. “That's loud enough to raise the dead. No wonder some holes were blocked.”

“Amazing! I've never known anyone make that loud a sound. Come on, let's get out of here in case we've made folks mad,” said Owen as he swung over the stile.

“Or scared the ponies,” chuckled Holly.

Laughing, Adam hurried after them.

C
HAPTER
S
IX
W
AYLAND'S
S
ECRET

The children rode uphill towards the Ridgeway and trotted through a gap in the bank. After passing the White Horse and Uffington Castle, they found themselves on a more sheltered track. It followed the flank of the downs and was edged by low banks and occasional clumps of trees. Gradu–ally it dropped closer to the valley, and soon the ponies were winding their way through a small wood.

Holly pointed, and Adam glimpsed a squirrel scampering along a tree bough. Next Owen waved them all to a stop, and children and ponies watched as a fox, belly low to the ground, sped across the trail, through the trees and slipped out of sight along the edge of the field beyond.

“I've never seen a real fox before,” Adam whispered.

“Well, keep your eyes peeled. There are badgers here too,” Holly whispered back.

Owen gave a muffled snort. ”You don't see them in daylight. Only in the evenings.”

“You never know,” said Holly defensively. “We could be lucky. We don't often see foxes either.”

They rode on without incident for about a mile. The track rose and fell. Only once did they need to pull the ponies to the side to allow a string of eight exercising racehorses to trot past. The ponies whickered a greeting, but the thoroughbreds merely twitched their ears in reply.

“How far is Wayland's Smithy?” asked Adam as they carried on.

“You can almost see it in the middle of the clump of trees ahead.” Holly pointed.

Adam's stomach cramped with unease. He was almost at Wayland's Smithy, an old burial place said to be built by a blacksmith god. In a few minutes he'd find out if he and Chantel were crazy, or, worse still, if his dragon experience was real.

Mischief tossed her head nervously as Adam jagged the bit in her mouth. “Sorry, Mischief,” he muttered, and slack–ened the reins. But his knuckles and face were white. It took courage to give her the signal to turn off the Ridgeway and follow the others through a gate into a small fenced wood.

Mischief stepped delicately into the area known as Way–land's Smithy. The trees thickened, then suddenly widened out. Adam found himself in a hidden clearing. He slid from Mischief's back and gazed around.

Holly slipped off her pony, looped Harlequin's reins up over his neck and tied them in a loose knot so he wouldn't trip on them. She gave him a friendly slap on the rear. “We can let the ponies roam. It's fenced,” she called as she closed the gate. The two boys followed her example and the three ponies ambled into the shade of the trees.

The soft leafy ground and springy turf muffled the chil–dren's footsteps and the pony's hooves. A circle of majestic beech trees ringed a clearing, standing guard over the bar–row and holding back the woodland. The children stepped between the beeches into the magic circle. No birds sang. No breeze stirred or leaves rustled. They had entered a bub–ble of silence.

Adam stared.

The barrow, a long, low, turf-covered mound, almost filled the beech-edged circle. The narrow end of the mound faced them, framed by two enormous stones. Beneath the lintel gaped a small dark hole.

Adam gulped. He didn't like small dark tunnels. No way was he going in there. He shuffled his feet. His skin prickled with fear.

“Have you got Chantel's talisman?” asked Owen.

Adam's hand slipped inside the pocket of his jeans. He nodded but did not bring it out.

Owen held out his hand impatiently. “Let's have it.”

Adam drew the piece of gold from his pocket, but held on tight. “What are we supposed to do?” he asked quietly.

Owen shrugged. “Guess we keep trying things till some–thing happens.”

“Like what?” Adam's voice squeaked with tension.

Holly crossed the turf and stood before the lintel stones.

“The stories say to leave a coin on the entrance stones if you want your horse shod,” she said.

“We don't,” Adam said flatly. “And it isn't a coin.”

“Try it anyway.” Holly pointed to a rock between the stones. “Put the talisman there.”

Adam edged towards the dark entrance. His fingers didn't want to let go, but he dropped the talisman. It landed with a tinkle. Wave upon wave of mystery flowed from the dark tunnel, wrapping tendrils around his body and tugging him towards the entrance. Adam retreated fast.

Holly climbed casually on top of the burial mound. Owen also seemed unaffected by the atmosphere.

The talisman lay there. Nothing happened.

Owen fidgeted for a few moments, then walked over and picked it up. “Maybe someone has to take it inside.”

A surge of relief swept over Adam. Yes
it didn't have to be him. Let Owen go in the dark hole.

Owen held the talisman between his finger and thumb, bent double and slipped inside the barrow.

“Any skeletons in there?” Adam asked Holly.

She shook her head. “No. The burial chambers were excavated years ago.” She jumped down from the side of the mound and ran back towards the lintels. “They took the skeletons to a museum somewhere.” She looked at Adam and laughed. “It's not scary, silly. The entrance just leads to three little hollows. You can always see daylight, even from the deepest one.” She bent down and peeked inside. “Anything happening?” she called.

“Not a thing,” Owen's disembodied answer wafted up. He crawled out of the entrance and handed the talisman to Holly. “Try something else.”

Holly looked around. “Chantel walked widdershins around the eye. Let's try that.” She ran past Adam to the entrance of the beech-tree circle, paused and, holding the talisman before her, walked slowly around the edge of the clearing in an anti-clockwise direction.

She made seven circles. Nothing happened.

Holly offered the talisman to Adam. “Your turn.”

Adam shrank back. He had known that it would come to this. He was going to have to crawl in that hole. It was still pulling at him.

“Come on, Adam.” Holly pressed the talisman into his palm. “What's the matter?”

“He's scared,” Owen said, grinning.

Adam looked at them. “Don't you feel it?” he asked.

Owen stopped laughing. “Feel what?”

“As though … as though the hole … is trying to pull you inside?”

Holly and Owen stared at the entrance to the barrow and back at Adam.

Owen slowly shook his head. “I don't feel anything. Does it feel like that to you?”

“Yes,” whispered Adam.

“Then it's got to be you who takes the talisman inside. Go on. We'll be right here. Yell if you need help, but you've got to try.”

He pushed Adam towards the barrow.

CCC

Adam crouched in the entrance. It was dark, and smelled of damp rock. He was going to have to move if he wanted to see inside. His body was blocking the daylight.

He crawled forward. Loose stones and rocks poked into his hands and knees. Air swirled around him. The rocks throbbed gently, as if to a giant heartbeat. Or was it his heart thumping? Adam couldn't tell. His imagination worked overtime. What if a bat flew into his hair? What if he knelt on a snake? What if spiders fell down his neck? What if the magic sucked him in and he was never seen again? Heart pounding, he eased himself into a hollow on one side of the passage and let a shaft of sunlight through.

After his flights of imagination, Adam was relieved to see a short, well-trampled rocky passage opening into three alcoves made of gigantic slabs of rock. Interesting, but not scary.

“Anything happening?” yelled Holly from outside.

“No,” Adam called back.

“Have you held up the talisman?”

“Not yet,” he admitted.

“Come on, Adam. What are you waiting for?” Owen was getting impatient.

“All right. Here goes.” Adam unclasped his hand and exposed the half-talisman.

For a moment it just lay there. Then it began to feel warm, and, just as it had in his dream, it started to glow.