Magus of Stonewylde Book One (10 page)

How could Miranda understand what the full moon did to Sylvie when she didn’t understand it herself? She’d hoped that coming to Stonewylde would cure her of it, just as it was curing her other ailments. But inside she knew that nothing had changed. In another night or so the moon would be full, and she felt it calling to her. In fact it was even stronger here at Stonewylde than in London. Nor did it help that the moon shone in through her bedroom window, bathing her in silver all night long. Maybe
she should ask Magus for advice. But she decided to wait until she knew him a little better, and anyway, he probably wouldn’t understand. Nobody understood what happened to her at the rising of the full moon.

I
t was late afternoon and Sylvie paced the sitting room restlessly. The tension and frustration were building as sunset drew closer. She looked out into the garden where Yul was again hard at work thrusting his spade savagely into the heavy clods, his pent-up anger releasing itself into the earth. Miranda came over and watched him for a moment, fascinated by the dark energy of the boy. She’d seen the same anger and aggression in teenage boys she’d taught in London; there it spilled out into violence and vandalism. At least, she thought, at Stonewylde it was put to good use and channelled into hard physical labour.

‘Sylvie, will you be alright if I go up to the Hall for a while? Or do you want to come with me?’ asked Miranda, turning from the window. ‘I need to use the Internet and get some more books.’

‘Of course I’ll be alright,’ Sylvie replied. ‘You go on up.’

‘I thought I may stay there and go straight into dinner rather than come home first.’

‘Good idea.’

‘Will you be alright coming up on your own to the Dining Hall? You won’t be scared in the dark?’

‘For goodness sake, Mum, I’m not a baby!’

‘There’s no need to snap, Sylvie!’

‘Well honestly, you fuss over me all the time and I’m sick to death of it!’

Miranda frowned in bewilderment, at a loss to understand where this was coming from.

‘Oh Mum, I’m sorry!’ groaned Sylvie. ‘Please don’t look like that. You know I don’t really mean it.’

‘Maybe it’s your hormones, Sylvie. Perhaps you’re starting all the awful moody adolescent stuff?’

‘I don’t think so, Mum. Look at me! It’s ridiculous. I’ll be fifteen in a few months’ time but I still look about ten years old.’

‘Actually, you don’t. I was only thinking today that you’ve started changing recently. I’ve heard that sometimes if development has been delayed, as yours has, when it does happen it’s really fast.’

‘About time too! Anyway, I’ll be fine on my own here. In fact, I’ll stay here for the evening and have a sandwich. I don’t really fancy coming up to the Hall.’

Miranda looked doubtfully at her daughter.

‘Alright. I’ll be back around nine. Just make sure …’

‘Don’t say it! I’ll be fine. And please don’t hurry back.’

‘Sylvie! That’s very hurtful.’

‘I just meant don’t worry and rush back to check up on me. Please, Mum. I can’t stand the fussing. I’m not sick now, and I’m not a little kid anymore.’

‘Alright. But don’t talk to that boy out there. Remember what Magus said about him.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’

‘Sylvie! I mean it. There’s something wild about him, something almost dangerous. He looks so angry. Even without Magus’ warnings I don’t like the thought of you having anything to do with him.’

‘Okay, Mum. He’s not exactly friendly anyway.’

Miranda finally left and Sylvie threw herself into an armchair with a groan. Her mother was driving her up the wall. How come she’d never noticed before just how irritating she was? The sooner she could start school the better. She looked out of the window again. It was a lovely clear evening and the garden was bathed in golden light. Yul’s cheeks were hollow and shadowy and the hair fell over his eyes as he attacked the clods of earth. Her mother was right – there was something wild about him. His
powerful arms thrust the spade viciously into the earth and she saw the muscles in his back rippling as his thin shirt pulled taut with every swing of the spade.

Sylvie felt a rush of something she’d never felt before, a visceral somersault of longing deep down inside. Her fingertips trembled and there was a strange feeling in her chest as she gazed at him. Then she remembered; tonight was the full moon and the sun was nearly setting. Of course her bizarre feelings had nothing to do with Yul at all – this was her moon madness starting.

Feeling a little reckless, she opened the back door and walked into the garden, stopping at the sea of mud.

‘Would you like a drink?’

Yul looked up in surprise. He hesitated and then nodded. She returned with a glass of water, which he gulped down in one.

‘I’ll get you another.’

She returned with more water and a piece of Cherry’s fruit cake. He took both with muddy hands and drank the water first, before biting hungrily into the cake. She watched in fascination. Then she noticed the black eye again, as he shook his hair back from his sweaty face. It was nasty – the skin around the eye dark and swollen.

‘How did you get the black eye?’

He shrugged, still wolfing down the cake.

‘Did you have a fight with someone?’

His face darkened.

‘Yeah, something like that.’

He brushed the crumbs from his hands, picked up the spade and turned his back on her.

‘Thanks for that,’ he mumbled.

‘It’s okay. Can’t you stop and talk for a while?’

She was amazed at herself. Maybe it was the moon madness making her more assertive. He shook his head.

‘I daren’t. If Magus sees I’ll be in even more trouble.’

‘Why? What have you done?’

‘Please, miss, I can’t talk to you. Leave me alone and let me get on with my work.’

‘Fine! If that’s how you feel. I was only trying to be friendly.’

With a flounce she turned around and stamped back into the house, slamming the back door. Then she felt stupid and childish and wished she hadn’t. She wanted to scream. Nothing went right for her. First her silly mother annoyed her and now this boy wouldn’t talk to her. What to do, what to do? She marched around the room, touching things, kicking the armchair, wanting to yell, full of twitchy energy.

Yul continued to dig, cursing himself for a fool. She’d come out specially and had been kind to him but he’d been surly and unfriendly. She’d probably never bother speaking to him again. That possibility twisted his heart.

But … she’d asked about his black eye, the humiliating evidence that he was a pathetic victim and at his father’s mercy. Once again, Alwyn had branded him for all the community to pity. He simply couldn’t bear the thought of that beautiful girl feeling sorry for him. Molten anger welled up inside him and he yelled out loud into the still garden. Yul hated his father more than anyone had ever hated anybody before. He carried this hatred like a great black serpent inside him. He’d done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve the beating he’d suffered.

Yul remembered how happy he’d been on the night of the Story Web. He’d felt honoured to have been part of the magic, and proud that Clip had chosen him to go up on the stage. When he’d arrived home that night, his mother and Rosie had just got back themselves and were making tea. The younger ones were sleeping in the Village School with all the other children. His mother and sister had made a fuss of him and Yul had just started explaining how the snake had felt when the door crashed open and Alwyn stomped in. Yul seethed at the memory.

Alwyn was spoiling for a fight, his jaw jutting aggressively and his small eyes alight with belligerence. He picked first on Rosie and then Maizie, both of whom jumped to obey him. Then he turned on Yul. He berated the boy for showing off, for making a fool of himself on the stage and thinking he was better than everyone else. Yul kept his head down and did nothing to antagonise
his father in any way. His very lack of response seemed to enrage Alwyn even further. Maizie could see what was coming and tried to get Yul and Rosie up to bed. But Alwyn needed to vent his brutality and of course it was Yul who bore the brunt of it.

Alwyn had knocked him about the cottage until the boy was a cowering heap on the floor. Then he’d taken the strap from its hook. Rosie ran and shut herself in her room, trying to block the sounds that carried up the stairs. Maizie stood in the kitchen trembling, tears running down her face, her hands over her ears. She longed to protect her son, to beg Alwyn to stop the beating. But she knew from experience that any intervention on her part only made him worse. So she stood huddled up in the kitchen whilst Alwyn laid into Yul.

At last his anger was assuaged. The beefy man stood panting with exertion, his face scarlet and the room reeking of his sweat. He grimly surveyed the boy lying at his feet. Then grabbing hold of his damaged shirt, he hauled him upright.

‘Hang up the strap,’ he growled, and Yul staggered across to the door to obey. He was shaking so badly he could barely hook the piece of leather onto its nail.

‘Let that be a lesson to you. You’re not special. You’re the bottom of the pile and don’t you forget it. I don’t want to see you showing off again. Next time I’ll use the whip and then you’ll be sorry. Now get up to bed, you little shit!’

With a grunt he aimed a kick but Yul was already halfway up the stairs, trying to control the urge to retch. He was alive with pain. But the worst of it was the searing rage in his heart. Another beating in a long line of punishments stretching back as far as he could remember. He wouldn’t forget this night. The memory of it now was enough to make Yul’s fists clench with overwhelming, white-hot desire for revenge.

Sylvie looked out of the front window. The shadows were growing longer. Soon the sun would set. The daylight would start to fade and then the hush would come, the expectant hush as the moon’s rim cleared the horizon. A strange tingling like fiery
ice shot through her. She had to get out of this confinement and into the open. She banged out of the front door, tripped up the garden path and turned towards the woods.

Yul saw her leave and wondered. Surely she should be going to the Hall for dinner? The thought of food made his stomach tighten. As the sun was now almost set he decided he could at last go home. His mother would have kept him some supper and he was starving hungry. He put the spade away and trudged to the back gate leading into the fields and the muddy short-cut down to the Village.

He paused. Why had she taken the path into the woods? He’d seen her mother leave a while ago for the Hall. Sylvie obviously wasn’t going to join her. It would be dark fairly soon. Suppose she got lost, or fell and hurt herself? He knew the woods well but she certainly didn’t. He felt again that urge to protect her, and retraced his steps. He went round the cottage and out through the front gate, turning towards the trees as she’d done.

Now I can breathe and feel the earth under my feet. The moon will bless me! She calls to me and tonight, at last, I can come to her
.

Yul saw her shoes lying abandoned on the path and frowned. What was going on? He caught a glimpse of her pale blue dress up ahead and quickened his pace. Why had she taken her shoes off? He heard her voice rising above the soft call of the woodpigeons. She was humming; a strange, high sound that carried in the still evening air. He saw her hair gleaming almost white in the dusky woods. The sun had gone down and the sky was soft with fading light. The trees thickened around the path, which now wound deeper into the heart of the woodland.

Lovely trees reach for the sky, reach to touch the silver moon. I shall sing her a song of reverence and honour. She is rising!

The music she sang made Yul’s skin prickle. It was like no other song he’d ever heard, with words that were not words but reminded him of birdsong. He narrowed the gap between them and wondered whether he should call out and let her know he was there. He knew her name was Sylvie. Sylvie with the silver hair. Should he call her name?

She walked fast, speeding through the woods, pale hair rippling over her shoulders and down her back. Her feet and legs were bare beneath the blue dress and she skipped in her haste. Then suddenly she stopped dead. Yul almost ran into her. Slowly she started to raise both arms into the air as if unfolding her wings. Yul felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. Was she mad? What on earth was she up to?

She turned to face him and he blinked in shock. This deep in the woods the light was fading fast. But he could see enough to recognise that she was in some kind of a trance. Her beautiful silver-grey eyes were wide open and fixed. Her lips were moving and the strange noises still poured from her. She stared upwards through the branches, her arms stretched to the heavens. And then the truth dawned on him.

She is rising! She brings bright blessings to all. I sing to your beauty and magic, my silver lady. At last I am here to honour you
.

He’d seen moongazy hares like this. He knew about moon magic. She was in the thrall of the rising moon and was glorying in it. He’d known she was special from the first moment he’d seen her walking in the woods with Magus. She was moongazy. Now he understood. And he knew how to help her too.