Solstice at Stonewylde (51 page)

‘You’ll suffer for this! You’ll be whipped, Harold! Yul will never lead us and you’ll rue the day you turned against our master!’

Then, chillingly, all went quiet. Harold listened intently, heart thudding, wondering if Martin had collapsed again. It took him a moment to realise why and, with another cry, he yanked the key from the lock and ran down the corridor to the next door. Martin mustn’t escape to aid Magus.

He raced down the shadowy corridor and checked each door leading out from Magus’ long suite of chambers. Martin, doing the same inside the rooms, was much slower, having to negotiate furniture and staggering from his head injury. One by one Harold tried the doors and found each one locked – until he came to the last one, Sylvie’s room. This was where she and Clip had made their escape. As Harold ran down the almost black corridor he could see it stood ajar where Magus had flung it open in his fury at discovering Sylvie gone.

Harold shook so much he dropped the heavy ring of keys. Snatching them up again in panic, he couldn’t find the keyhole. His heart pounded as he tried to shove the old iron key into the lock. It was the wrong one, and frantically he tried another and then another. Martin came crashing through the room just as Harold wrestled the right key into place and locked the door. The tirade of abuse that poured from Martin’s lips was shocking, and even with the solid door between them Harold backed off quickly, not wanting to hear any more of the dreadful fate which now awaited him. Martin’s mother was a force to be reckoned with and not known for her good magic.

Rosie held her mother protectively as they made their way back up the Long Walk, cloaks wrapped tightly against the chill December night. Maizie’s steps were slow and she stumbled; every so often a sob burst from her.

‘Come now, Mother, ‘twill be alright. Yul will do it – we must have faith.’

‘Sixteen years I’ve waited for this terrible night,’ cried Maizie. ‘Sixteen years of standing by and watching my boy being cruelly treated at every turn. And now ‘tis almost over.’

‘’Tis not over, Mother! You wait – our Yul will win.’

‘And his lovely new robes I made him, with his own Green Man sewn all over – my poor boy will never wear them, never reach adulthood. All thanks to that meddling old biddy!’

‘Don’t talk like this, Mother – Yul needs all the folk behind him, including you. You’ll see – he’ll beat Magus tonight, and then tomorrow—’

Another woman came up behind them, heavily pregnant and stumbling in her haste to reach them. She shoved Rosie hard in the back almost knocking her over, and the girl spun round in surprise.

‘No he will
not
! Don’t you dare speak o’ such a thing! Magus is our master and always will be.’

Maizie and her daughter glared at the young woman, squaring up for a confrontation.

‘Not after tonight he won’t!’ said Maizie, her lip curled. ‘That man is finished and ‘tis my boy that’ll do the deed. Your child will be fatherless, Rowan, and best thing for it.’

‘No!’ the laundry maid screamed, trying to claw at Maizie’s face. ‘Magus will always rule here and he’ll love our child!’

‘He’s no better at loving his children than he is at loving his women,’ spat Maizie. ‘And I should know! He’s spent my son’s life trying to destroy him and that man deserves what’s a-coming to him tonight. Yul is worth ten o’ him and all the folk think so too. You’ll have to change your tune tomorrow, my girl, when Yul becomes our new magus!’

Up high on the hill, three women huddled around the great standing stone, their hands joined to form an unholy circle. They shuffled widdershins, chanting an incantation to the darkening sky. They’d marked a rough outline on the ground around them, and placed objects at various spots on it – strange and sinister things that had no place at such a sacred site.

Violet broke off from her crooning and paused, listening.

‘The moongazy maiden is a-coming! Now, sisters, we must trap her in our circle and let the Dark Magic do its work afore the Frost Moon rises.’

‘Aye! The trap awaits and you was right, dear sister, all along. She escaped from Magus but she won’t get away from us three.’

‘Should we hide ourselves?’ asked Starling a little incongruously, as there was no cover other than the stone itself.

‘Aye, we shall become the land itself. Sink down, my dears. Crouch low as rocks.’

With an agility defying their size and creakiness the three women melted down, forming dark huddles on the ground under their cloaks. In the deepening twilight they’d became low boulders surrounding the tall Hare Stone. Three silent mounds waiting for their victim.

Siskin sat back in the deep oak settle, the noise of the Villagers in the Jack in the Green all around him as he sipped his glass of cider with closed eyes. He was perfectly happy. The couple of very elderly men, sitting in the pub by the warm fire, had fallen silent when he’d arrived a little earlier, driven down finally in a car. Siskin had been served a drink and then eyed suspiciously as he lowered himself onto a hard stool at a little table. When a great throng of noisy men had burst in soon after, the Stone Circle ceremony completed, they too had fallen quiet at the sight of him. The last thing the Village men wanted tonight was a member of the Hallfolk in the pub.

But Siskin suddenly had understood their hostility and anxiety, and had produced the photo of Yul from his bag. He’d held it up proudly, inviting all to see.

‘
This
is why I’ve come!’ he said excitedly. ‘To see this young man take his rightful place as our new magus, as our own Green Man. I’m on your side, chaps! Sylvie invited me here for the Solstice sunrise ceremony tomorrow. I can’t go up to the Hall yet because Magus doesn’t know I’ve returned. I’d be grateful if you’d
let me spend the evening in here with you good folk, keeping out of the way while Yul does battle.’

This had earned him much hearty back-slapping and toasting, and the Village men were delighted to welcome him. They found the professor some food and settled him comfortably in a cosy corner by the fire with a fresh glass of cider. Siskin was happier than he’d been in years, and increasingly excited about the sunrise ceremony in the morning.

Unseen, Greenbough and the woodsmen stepped silently from the wood, their axes and staves in hand. They’d waited for Sylvie and Clip to pass by on their way to the top of Hare Stone and now they could take their places around the hill, forming a ring of protection for the magical girl in her scarlet cloak. Should anyone arrive and attempt to abduct her or disturb her moondancing, the woodsmen would intervene and keep her safe.

‘What if Magus comes though?’ muttered a burly man. ‘I’m a-willing to do my bit to help, but I don’t know as I could fell the master hisself.’

‘’Tis unlikely, ain’t it? Our Yul’s the one to rise up against Magus, like the prophecy foretold. I tip my hat to that young man, I really do!’

‘Aye, I ain’t scared of aught, but
I’d
never do it. He’s a brave lad and no mistake.’

‘Stop your chit-chat and keep quiet,’ growled Greenbough. ‘We’ll climb up the hill a bit and make sure the maiden is alright. Master Clip said we must protect her and ‘tis a vital job we got here. Miss Sylvie is Yul’s sweetheart, and he needs us to take care o’ her while he takes on Magus tonight. Hush now, and follow me.’

At his feet, Yul could just make out the six stolen moon eggs that Edward had brought up earlier. They nestled snugly in cup-like hollows on the platform of the Snake Stone. The top of the stone was encircled with several such hollows and Yul believed they’d once all held similar stone eggs, for the size and shape was too
close for coincidence. He’d heard how Magus loved to come here as a youngster – perhaps those empty sockets had inspired him with the idea to make moon eggs. Yul remembered Tom up on Dragon’s Back, driving the cart back from Quarrycleave all those months ago, and Sylvie’s reaction when she’d touched the sparkling white chunks of stone.

The hollows looked very old, as if they’d been carved out a long, long time ago. Maybe there’d always been a moongazy girl at Stonewylde, who could be forced to charge the rock here and at Mooncliffe with her powerful moon magic. Maybe there’d always been a magus who received the Earth Magic from the Stone Circle, but stole the girl’s magic when his own was gone. Perhaps there was eternal conflict; patterns and stories that came and went, repeated endlessly in the circle of time.

Yul didn’t know and didn’t care. All he hoped was that Sylvie was safely at Hare Stone within her ring of protection, and that Magus would soon be here to meet his son, and his destiny.

It was dark and shadowy in the cottage on the hill. The light was almost gone from the sky and the longest night of the year was about to begin. The Frost Moon had not yet risen as Mother Heggy sat, silent and still, in the centre of her circle. The fire crackled in the hearth sending crazy shadows chasing around the ancient walls. The Wise Woman’s home had seen many a drama over its long years, but tonight was something special.

Grizzled head bowed, she channelled her mind into a tight stream of concentration, focusing on the two she knew could be the saviours of Stonewylde. The brightness in the darkness – this was their night. All hung on the outcome of this conflict and she must do everything in her feeble power keep them safe. They must be allowed to fulfil their destiny.

Muttering softly, Mother Heggy took a sip from her goblet and a toothless bite of the small cake. Her furrowed face creased further as she concentrated intently on an image of her magical girl from long ago. Calling, calling, Mother Heggy summoned Raven into the battle.

Harold sat at the top of the great staircase near the main door to Magus’ apartments. All around him the Hall creaked and settled in the darkness. The sky, visible through the enormous windows overlooking the stairs, was just a shade lighter than the gloom inside. Harold’s hands shook violently as he huddled on the top stair, crying silently. He’d never been more terrified in his life.

He could hear Martin through the locked door. The man seemed to have lost his mind, calling on every dark force to help him escape. Harold sat, too frightened to move, seemingly alone in the vast Hall save for Martin who still pounded on the door. The boy had done his bit to help, preventing Martin from leaving the Hall to help Magus, and he could do no more. Harold longed for everyone to return from the Stone Circle and fill the place with light and noise. The shadows loomed larger and larger all around him as he crouched paralysed on the top stair. The corridor stretched away around like a black tunnel on either side, whilst below, the hall was a pool of deepening, unfathomed darkness He couldn’t even begin to imagine the terrors that Yul faced tonight; this was more than enough for him.

Leaving the strange fire behind, Sylvie continued up the hill on light feet, her cloak billowing behind her. Senses tingling, Clip followed her closely. He too felt something was wrong, and as they approached the summit his sense of foreboding increased. He knew this spot of old, recognising it as one of the very magical places of Stonewylde, one of the places where the energy was most powerful. But there was something else here tonight – something dark and menacing. Was Magus hidden behind the standing stone? Had Yul’s plan to lure him to Quarrycleave failed? He tried to hold on to Sylvie but she eluded him at every step, desperate to reach the spirals before moonrise.

As she climbed the last few metres, instinctively avoiding the stones that littered the cold, dewy grass, she slowed. Again she cocked her head, listening. Stepping fearfully now, she
approached the huge rock that reared up towards the sky, her hand outstretched.

Where are my hares and my owl? Why do the spirals not draw me in tonight? What evil cuckoo squats in my moon nest?

Her foot brushed one of the mounds that had no place on this hill. Clip had a sudden flash of understanding and tried to save her – but too late. In a flurry of movement and screams, the three shapes unfurled from the ground into solid, flailing figures that surrounded the girl and enfolded her in a wall of stinking flesh and musty cloth. She cried out, struggling as their talons dug into her, and Clip yelled in dismay. He tried to grab one of them but she turned on him with a snarl, her face a mask of rotten teeth and wrinkles in the near darkness.

‘Stand at bay!’ she cried. ‘You will not touch us, nor will you take another step. We are protected and you cannot move!’

To his horror, Clip found himself rooted to the spot and unable to move at all. Fear clutched his heart at the strange sensation of being turned to stone. This was the power of the crones and their dark magic, held in abeyance for so many years ready, at this moment, to rear up in dreadful triumph.

Old Violet cackled horribly and the other two joined in, their voices shrill and hoarse. Clip tried to call out, knowing there should be a group of men in the vicinity to protect them. Surely they must’ve heard the terrible noise? He couldn’t open his mouth to warn them but he heard voices and then the band of woodsmen arrived, spread out around the approach to the summit.

‘Stay!’ cried Violet, sweeping her raised arm and staff towards them all. ‘You will come no further! Old Violet commands this and you are bound by my spell. Stand where you are!’

Sylvie was becoming frantic, for the moonrise was imminent. The binding spell that paralysed every man seemed to have no effect on her as the Frost Moon drew closer and her agitation grew. She fought the crones, flinging her arms about and trying to break free. But there were three of them and their grip was
strong and powerful as they capered, prodding her and pulling at her hair.