Solstice at Stonewylde Read online

  ‘In a minute I’ll leave you here on your own. You’ve defied me, challenged me, tried to put yourself above me, and now I want you to suffer. Tonight you’ll know real fear as the Dark Angel walks the labyrinth. Being so cold and weak already, you’ll probably die during the night, but should you survive the darkest hours, your death will be even worse.’

  He paused and smiled grimly as he surveyed his helpless son.

  ‘You know the customs of Samhain and the journey to the Otherworld. In the hour before dawn, if you can’t move or show a sign that you choose life, then you’ll be burnt on the pyre. A kindness for those poor souls who wish to bring an end to their suffering. And I know you won’t be able to move, because Old Violet’s little bottle of potion, which you drank so willingly from Jackdaw’s hand, will prevent any movement for many hours yet. When I ask who chooses life you won’t move or show any sign and it’ll be your choice, Yul, not mine. Not my hand in any of this so I’ll be safe from the binding spell. Jackdaw will put a torch to the pyre and you’ll burn with the corpses.’

  He chuckled again and drank more of the wine.

  ‘This is very strong stuff. I must go easy – I don’t want too many visions. I want to savour every single moment of this night, when I finally rid myself of you. I’ve looked forward to being free of you and that bloody prophecy for so long. But you can have more wine, Yul. Illusions and dreams will help you get through the night, while you lie here contemplating your death.’

  Still cradling Yul’s floppy head, he ladled more of the spiced wine down the boy’s throat, slowly and carefully. Yul had to swallow or choke, but swallowing was so difficult Magus had to take his time. Then he tenderly wiped the boy’s lips with the sleeve of his robe.

  ‘There, that’s more than enough to ensure some powerful visions. I can feel the effect and I’ve only had a few sips. And now I must leave you on your own with these four bodies. Did I tell you they’re all already dead? No pulses, so it’s just you, the corpses and the Dark Angel. You’re surrounded by death. You’re a brave boy but tonight even you will know genuine terror. Look out for the Angel, Yul, because he’s here, that’s for sure. Goodnight, my son.’

  Magus bent and kissed Yul’s forehead. He rose and stretched, looking down at the boy. His dark eyes glowed in the dim light and his mouth tightened momentarily. With a farewell salute, he turned and walked out of the Circle, leaving Yul alone with his hallucinations and dreams.

  The small silvery creature sat up high on top of a great standing stone, a crow on her shoulder. She waved at him and smiled, then floated down to the misty ground inside the Stone Circle. She skipped along the labyrinth path, her ragged dress flimsy in the wisps of mist and hazy red lights. Her feet were bare, as were her thin white arms and legs. She was small and delicate and her face was beautiful. Her hair was a wild silver bird’s nest of tangles and burrs around her.

  ‘Blessings, Yul,’ she said softly in a tiny angel voice. ‘Well met again, my grandson.’

  She threw her head back and laughed, revealing tiny sharp teeth. Her laughter tinkled in the air and wove a web of silver around the four dead bodies.

  ‘You hold fast, my little Yul. ‘Tis the place of your birth for sure, but not the place of your death. I’ll help you through this long and lonely night. Old Mother Heggy summoned me this Samhain, to protect you.’

  Yul tried to smile at her, feeling better for knowing he wasn’t all alone as the Angel drew near, but his face wouldn’t move. He glanced upwards and saw the birds still perched above, watching him with bright beady eyes.

  ‘Don’t be scared of them. They’re your friends, come to watch over you, and especially my crow. You’ll see.’

  The night wore on, growing colder and colder and Yul couldn’t feel any part of his body now. Everything was numb with only a little kernel of his mind still functioning and that in a bizarre way, for the visions followed thick and fast. Many people joined him in the labyrinth, a host of ancestors all long gone, from centuries and centuries past. They poured through the veil and crowded in to gaze at him, appearing and then fading, but Raven let nobody come close. She sat by Yul’s side and held his hand in hers, guarding him fiercely, waving them away and hissing at them to be gone. Or was this silver girl not Raven at all, but another moongazy girl, one who loved him and was here to protect him? In his delusional state, Yul had no idea.

  Several times, in the corner of his vision, Yul saw a tall, black-robed figure processing around the Circle. At first he thought it was Magus come back, but then in a burst of lucidity Yul realised it was the Dark Angel himself stalking the labyrinth. The blackness around the figure was deeper than it should be, and Yul knew he mustn’t look into the Angel’s face, mustn’t get a glimpse of those eyes or he’d be lost. He had a choice, and must at all costs avert his gaze should the Angel come close and peer down at him.

  ‘Yul, Yul, don’t go!’ called the silvery voice later on, when the darkness grew thicker all around him. ‘Don’t leave me, Yul! You must stay and fight.’

  She blew softly on his face, stirring his curls like a gentle whisper of breeze. He forced his heavy eyes open. He was so tired and wanted only to float into soft, grey sleep and never wake up. It was so tempting, so alluring, just sink into goose-down slumber and peace.

  ‘YUL! Do you want your father to win? If you die tonight, what will happen? You must fight, Yul, for ‘tis you alone at Stonewylde who can defeat him. Think of your moongazy maiden! He’ll never have his fill of her. He’ll drink her life away, gulp by greedy gulp until she dies at his hand, just as I died at his father’s hand. You saw what he did to me, didn’t you Yul? You saw that night on the cliff top how he devoured me, ripped me apart. ‘Tis only you who can stop it happening all over again.’

  Yul’s eyes shot open – he had to protect Sylvie from Magus. He couldn’t give in now, and with a huge effort he pushed the sleepy, enticing clouds away and tried to focus. He must stay and fight, never allow the monster who’d fathered him to destroy the girl he loved. Swivelling his eyes about, he located the thicker blackness standing right by the funeral pyre next to the other sleds. The souls had answered the summoning, and Alwyn was amongst them. But not Yul. He felt the shadow stirring, edging towards him, the only living being left in the Stone Circle. Even his silvery protector could do nothing to fight this spectre, should he gaze into his eyes. With a massive push of will, Yul closed himself off from the deadly summons, refusing to be lured. He sensed rather than heard a deep sigh, and then saw the Dark Angel drift silently out of the labyrinth and melt into the edges of the night.

  And then, as if from very far away, he heard voices approaching, shockingly loud in the deathly silence of Samhain night.

  ‘I reckon he’ll have snuffed it.’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Magus. ‘That boy’s strong and he’ll have survived. But he won’t be able to move, so he’ll burn at dawn with the others. You have to take care of it, Jackdaw – I can’t.’

  ‘Aye, and I’ll say the words, right enough,’ came a cackly voice. ‘I know ’em well. I’ll speak the words for you, so ‘tis not your doing and that binding spell’s not crossed.’

  ‘Yes, Violet, you take that role and leave me out of the whole thing this year.’

  The five cloaked figures walked briskly around the labyrinth path and arrived in the centre. Raven shielded Yul from them, whispering comfort in his ear.

  ‘You won’t die here, Yul. ‘Tis not your destiny. I’ll help you and you’ll choose life.’

  ‘Well I’ll be damned!’ exclaimed Jackdaw, seeing Yul’s eyes still open and watching. ‘You were right, sir. Tough little bugger, ain’t he?’

  Magus laughed dryly and glanced down at his son.

  ‘I told you he’s a fighter,’ he said, with a touch of something close to pride.

  It was still dark in the hour before dawn, and the torches were burning low in their brackets around the stones, with many of the red lights on the path burned out and now extinguished.
It was very cold and the new arrivals were snug in their thick cloaks, their breath clouding out in the still air. Magus’ cheeks glowed and Yul knew he’d charged himself up with moon energy during the night; he could feel the hard quicksilver pulsing in the man. He was full of life and vitality and his eyes burned brightly. The five of them, Magus, Jackdaw, Martin, Violet and Vetchling, looked down at Yul lying on the wooden sled in his thin white tunic. He was pale and unmoving and, but for his dilated eyes, looked like a corpse. Every one of the five wished him dead.

  ‘Soon ‘twill be time, Yul,’ cried the silvery voice. ‘You must stir your cold blood. Move your toes and fingers, boy. Move them!’

  He tried but nothing happened. He kept on trying, willing his body to move even a fraction, but nothing whatsoever happened. He was completely numb and paralysed. Magus crouched down and felt his pulse again, his fingertips hot on Yul’s chilled throat. He gazed deep into Yul’s frightened eyes and his black fire blazed in exultation. He smiled slowly and nodded, straightening up.

  ‘He’s still alive but only just,’ said Magus, ‘He’s not going anywhere. We’ve about an hour until dawn and the relatives will be here soon. Have you got everything you need, Martin? The oil so they burn well? The wreaths for their heads and the special brand for lighting the fire? Good. As soon as Violet’s said the words, you two men get the bodies up on the pyre as fast as possible. I want this over with quickly and I can’t give you any assistance. Nothing must go wrong.’

  Then Yul heard them coming, as did Magus and the others, and there were far too many voices. Unlike the Passing On ceremony, it was customary for none but the closest relatives to attend this burning. In the morning the ashes would be taken down to the Funerary Yew by the whole family and placed with due reverence and ritual under the great tree, together with a pebble. But this burning at Samhain, after the summoning of the Dark Angel, was only performed before a handful of relatives. However now, in the coldness of the hour before dawn on New Year’s Day, a huge throng of people came up the Long Walk. From the corner of his eye, Yul could just see a massive crowd of Villagers led by his mother, all carrying burning torches. His heart leaped – he’d made it this far and there was still a chance!

  Maizie stopped by the arched entrance and peered into the centre of the Stone Labyrinth. It was very dark inside the Circle and all she could make out were the five figures in their dark, hooded robes, and five still, white shapes on the wooden sleds.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ snarled Magus. ‘She’s brought bloody reinforcements!’

  But he signalled to begin the ritual as if the size of the great crowd were entirely normal. The crone invited the Death Dancers to choose between life and death. They were commanded to show some sign if they wanted to stay in this world, or remain still and silent if they wished to be sped to the Otherworld and have their mortal remains burnt. The four corpses remained still and silent. Yul tried to move, tried to call out or move his hand. He struggled with every fibre of his being. But his numb, drugged body wouldn’t respond.

  He could hear his mother’s voice calling to him from the entrance, begging him to make a sign. He could hear her choking on her sobs, pleading with him to choose life. She’d been convinced he’d be dead already. But now, although she couldn’t see him clearly at all, somehow she felt he still held on to a thread of life. She kept on and on calling to him, but try as he might, he could make no movement at all. Then he heard another voice, the voice of his tiny, silvery grandmother.

  ‘Come, Yul! ‘Tis time and you have to move. If you don’t show a sign now Magus will win and you’ll be burned alive!’

  He pushed and pushed, trying with every atom to move. How could his body fail him like this? Unless he made a sign right now, he’d die in the flames, burnt alive.

  ‘Call on the Earth Magic, Yul! ‘Tis your special place here and you’re the chosen one of Stonewylde, so summon the power to you, Yul! Call the green magic now to give you strength!’ she cried in desperation.

  Yul was some way from the Altar Stone where the force was most powerful, but he knew she was right. The energy was here in the Circle, if only it would seek him out. His body was so weak, so cold, but he remembered that August night at the Corn Moon when he’d run round and round, calling up the storm. So in his mind he started to run now, his limbs free and strong. Round the Circle, round the stones, calling on the power of the Earth Magic, summoning the Goddess who lived below and beyond, raising the energy up, up into his soul …

  Raven rubbed hard on his frozen hands crossed on his chest. She chafed them with her small, rough hands, exhorting him to move. He could feel her and yet he couldn’t – she was only a wraith and yet she had some substance. Her mass of tangled silver hair fell across his face and tickled him. He called and called, summoning the hidden power of the ancient Stone Circle, the power tapped by his ancestors, the green magic of old … He called on the Earth Goddess who’d chosen him to lead Stonewylde.

  ‘Sir!’ whispered Martin urgently. ‘I saw him move! He twitched.’

  ‘What?’ hissed Magus. ‘Don’t talk rubbish! He’s paralysed – he can’t move a muscle.’

  ‘No, look! His fingers just moved. Look, sir!’

  Magus saw it too.

  ‘Give him some more of the potion quickly! Where is it? Quick!’

  ‘’Tis over yonder in the chest by the Altar Stone,’ said Violet. ‘But something’s amiss. I feel another close by. A shade … something, someone from the Otherworld who has no place here. She—’

  ‘Never mind that! Go, Jackdaw! Get the bottle quickly!’

  But as Jackdaw tried to cross the circle to fetch the paralysing draught, a great crow launched itself from a standing stone and flew straight into Jackdaw’s face. It flapped and pecked in a wild flurry of black feathers, beak and claws. Jackdaw swore violently and tried to swipe it away. But the more his arms thrashed, the harder it attacked, coming from all angles, pecking and beating its wings, cawing crazily. He couldn’t get out of the centre; couldn’t move from the spot.

  ‘What the hell is going on? Violet, say the last words! You two – get the bodies up onto the pyre! Quick!’

  ‘I ask for the final time! If you choose to live, give us a sign. For now ‘tis the hour of the burning. Do none o’ you choose life?’

  ‘Move, Yul, move! I feel the life force rising in you. ‘Tis starting to work! Raise your hand!’ cried his moongazy saviour.

  There was a cry from someone in the crowd at the entrance.

  ‘He moved! I saw him move!’

  ‘YUL!’ screamed Maizie. ‘Are you alive, my boy?’

  ‘Here, my sweet grandson, take my hands and let me help you.’

  He gazed into her silvery moonstone eyes and felt such love and kindness flowing from her. His cold hands still lay crossed on his breast, and she took them in hers and tugged with all her strength. He felt the green energy snaking across the circle, seeking him out, finding its path to him and flowing beneath the labyrinth. With a sudden explosion of power, the Earth Magic poured from the ground up into his body. Yul sat up in one fluid motion, bolt upright on the sled, like someone rising from the dead.

  The crowd of Villagers roared in delight, everyone cheering and laughing.

  ‘He chooses life, Magus!’ screamed Maizie, beside herself with joy. ‘He’s moved and now he can live. You’re not burning our son! I’m coming to fetch him!’

  Nobody knew the protocol when a Death Dancer chose life as it had never happened before in memory. Only the very sick or very old took part, and the cold night had always done its work by this point. But Maizie began to trot along the path of the labyrinth, hurrying around the twists and turns until she entered the centre. Magus glowered at her in silent fury, his face white. Jackdaw cracked his knuckles ominously and Martin, Violet and Vetchling muttered under their breath. They all stepped back from Maizie as she threw herself down beside Yul. She kissed his cold face, taking his icy hands in hers and rubbing them. She careful
ly laid him back down on the sled, for although he’d somehow sat up he couldn’t move at all now. She pulled her warm shawl off her shoulders and tenderly covered her son with it, stroking his cheek as her tears fell on his chilled skin. His deep grey eyes gazed up at her, blazing out his love.

  She glared up at Magus.

  ‘You knew he were alive!’ she choked. ‘Yet you were prepared to burn him, your own son. I won’t forget this, Magus. Nobody will forget this. The folk have seen what you tried to do here tonight and now they all know of your wickedness.’

  ‘Maizie, you must—’

  But she stood abruptly, ignoring him. She picked up the sled’s rope and began to pull, dragging it slowly away from the centre and around the curved path. Several men in the crowd came forward to help and soon they were out of the Stone Labyrinth. The path back to life and rebirth had been trodden, and Yul emerged from his near death a different person – and one who now knew his true blood.

  Tom had brought the cart and Yul was lifted up and laid carefully in the back, his head cradled in his mother’s lap, covered warmly with people’s shawls and cloaks. The crowd surrounded the cart as it moved away, the procession lit triumphantly by their blazing torches. The few grieving relatives who remained watched in silence as Magus and his assistants continued with the Samhain rite of burning the bodies.

  Magus’ face was as dark as the crows and rooks that perched on the stones. The pyre whooshed into crackling life and the birds rose as one. As the ashes floated high above the Stone Circle, the air was filled with the beating wings of hundreds of birds, speeding the four souls to the Realm of the Otherworld.

  4

  Magus stood looking out over the grey gardens. Dew and cobwebs laced the shrubs around the French windows in a delicate white shroud and the trees reached up to the overcast skies with bony black fingers. There was a desolate feel to the early morning that belied the excitement of the previous day’s festival. Sylvie paused silently in the doorway of his office, loath to disturb the reverie of the man before her. He seemed dejected. There was something bleak in the set of his shoulders and his absolute stillness. He wore a dark business suit which gave him an Outside World air.