Slater (Hengist: People of the Horse Book 4)

by Jacky Gray

  ‘Solah speak. Slater good. Palita good. Max good.’ Spinning round again, he unsheathed Max’s knife and pointed it at Tauroch who flinched. ‘Tauroch wrong. Kenit evil to harm temple.’ Pausing dramatically, Slater heard the collective gasp from the crowd and knew he could sway them if he handled it right. Copying a technique used by his favourite comic actor, he beckoned the crowd toward him and lowered his voice slightly to give a sense of intimacy. ‘Durren folk love Solah?’

  Their reaction was delayed. It was a strange question to be asked, the answer was so obvious. After a brief pause, the shouts of “Yes” built up as people raised fists in salute to their deity. When he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he raised both hands, palms down and got their silence. ‘Durren folk fear Solah wrath?’ The reaction was instant this time; the crowd seemed to shrink and people started crossing their arms for protection.

  Slater continued, matching his words with mimed actions. ‘Solah temple wrong. Altar stone wrong. Solah not glad.’ He pointed to his chest. ‘Slater make stone right, Solah glad.’

  Tauroch watched the performance jealously from the side and stepped in to try and reassert his authority. ‘How Solah glad?’

  ‘Altar stone glow and spirits dance.’

  ‘Shaman magic.’ The irony of his words was lost on Tauroch.

  ‘Solah give life. Dead men walk.’

  The shaman’s eyes widened in fear as he worked out what had happened. It was too late for him to withdraw his statement; he had already announced that Roldan and Jenoti were dead.

  Slater took advantage of his confusion to talk to the crowd. ‘Solah tell Slater move altar stone. Need Max. Need ten strong men.’ Looking at the sky, he calculated there would be just enough time before the sun’s rays would hit the water spiral, but they needed to get going quickly.

  There was no shortage of volunteers; many men wanted a chance to serve their God. Aurala helped him to pick the strongest and fittest and they ended up with fifteen, all keen and eager to start work. It was a couple of miles from the meeting place to the temple, normally walked at leisure in family groups with much merriment, but they covered the distance quickly at a fast trot. As they ran, Slater prayed that they would have time to re-position the stone before the sun set and that no one would discover where Roldan and Jenoti were hiding before then.

  The logs and ropes for moving the stone were still lying around just outside the temple, and Max organised the men into teams. Many of the volunteers had moved the stones before, so they knew exactly what needed doing and got to work quickly, jamming sharpened logs under one edge of the stone and refitting the leather harness, pulling the straps tight. Although the stone only had to move three paces to be centred above the spiral, the logs were not long enough to put under the longest side. So it had to be moved ten paces along the shortest side, then back, twisting widdershins until it was pointing in the right direction.

  Slater knew the alignment had to be precise to get the maximum effect, so he left Max in charge of moving the stone while he worked out its final resting place. Spotting a pile of spare logs, he picked a couple and, with the help of Aurala and Palita, marked the new position of the stone centred on the patch he had burnt earlier. He frowned. The shadow from the nearest bluestone was aligned with the logs, so it would obscure the altar stone. But the lengthening shadows were moving quickly as the sun travelled round the earth. Apologising to the spirit of the water spiral, he stuck the sharpened end of a log into the centre until it stood up straight. He would use this to judge whether the shadow would hide the dancing lights as the sun reached the horizon.

  The stone had stopped moving while they swapped the harness to haul it back. Tauroch watched them intently, the emerald dagger once more in his hand.

  Slater had expected a few complaints or grumbles at the futility of pushing it back and forward such a short distance. Approaching, he overheard surprising comments. The men were saying it was easier to push this time – that Solah was helping them push because he wanted it moved.

  Max seemed pleased to see him but limited himself to a subdued greeting. ‘Max thank Slater.’

  Picking up on the hint, Slater echoed the subtle gesture, touching his fingertips to his heart, lips and back to the giant. ‘Slater thank Max for help. Solah glad.’

  Walking back toward the post, Slater worried that the shadow of the bluestone would eventually reach the altar stone, covering up the dancing lights effect. Then he realised something else. If he did not align it precisely, the sun might not reach through the gaps in the sarsens when they were raised later on. It was a huge responsibility, and for the first time, the implications of what he was doing filtered through to his brain.

  Until then, he had just been reacting to each new situation, trying to understand the problems and fix them. But this was different; it was not a trivial task. Any mistake would affect the history of not just these warring tribes, but the country and the continent. Recalling what Professor Jadon said about people coming from all over to visit the healing temple, he realised that if the altar stone, the most crucial part of the healing ritual, was in the wrong position, it may not work properly.

  Tauroch somehow tuned into his doubts, appearing behind him and hissing in his ear. ‘Slater vex. Altar stone wrong. Slater fear Solah wrath.’ He pointed with the emerald dagger and close up, Slater could see it was a beautifully crafted piece with intricate carvings on the handle. Tauroch caught his gaze and hid it jealously behind his back, allowing Aurala to dart in and retrieve the most valuable item from her dowry. She pointed it at the shaman.

  ‘Slater right. Let Slater be. Tauroch bring evil spirits to harm stone.’ Aurala spoke in a clear tone which rang out to the men heaving the stone. Several of them made angry gestures, their mutterings indicating that they were firmly convinced of the importance of their task and wanted no obstacles.

  As the shaman withdrew, Slater gave Aurala a grateful smile. ‘He’s right. I am afraid. What if I get it wrong?’

  ‘Have no fear. Solah not let you put stone wrong.’ She matched his low tone so no one would hear his doubts, but he wished he could share her certainty. As though reading his mind, she tucked the dagger in her belt and took his hand. Leading him to the burnt patch, she held his other hand so they formed a circle around it. Raising their hands to Solah, she invited him to come and bless their efforts and help them in their endeavours to please him. Slater felt the heat of the sun, still strong on the back of his neck, even though it was darkening to a pale orange.

  Lowering their hands to waist height, she moved sunwise, side-stepping so they were always facing the burnt patch in the centre of their circle. At first he felt foolish, as though in a childish “ring-a-roses” game, but she continued to spin, faster and faster until he was quite dizzy. No matter how sick he felt, he could not pull away as she counted the turns. At seven she slowed, continuing in the same direction to allow his body to adjust itself back to normality. He knew if she had let go of his hands he would have fallen, but the sickness and dizziness vanished as he saw what they’d achieved.

  The seven coils of the water line were glowing with an intense, pale blue light which rose several inches off the ground. As the second edge of the altar stone crossed the outer ring, Slater felt a crackle of energy hum through the spiral. Starting from the centre, the blue light rose higher as the energy fizzed round the water line to fill it with a powerful lifting force. Pulling Aurala into the centre circle with him, Slater shouted a warning to everyone to stop pushing and move away from the stone.

  All but one man got out the way in time – he was standing on a coil as the energy went through it and the stench of burning flesh filled the air. Max leapt over the sizzling line, hauling the man over his shoulder and following the path between the curves to the edge of the spiral where the man’s friends poured water over his leg.

  ‘Max see spirit rings?’ Slater called out to him. Seeing his nod, he appealed to the men. ‘Anyone see spirit rings?’ O
nly one youth stepped forward, but he was shaking with fear and would not be of much use. Palita dodged away from Tauroch’s man who had dogged her every move. She ran toward the stone, skipping over the coils as though they were no more harmful than a leather rope. So that was it. Four of them to move it the last five paces. They were never going to do it in time. As Slater prayed for some kind of miracle, three things happened at once.

  Tauroch crowed in delight as he realised they were going to fail; the sun turned a fiery red; and Aurala moved toward the stone as though in a trance. Slater tried to grab her arm to pull her back, but was too late, as she put her foot down on the water energy line.

  13 – Raising the Dead

  When he thought about it later, Slater could not be sure exactly what had happened. It played out like a drama on stage where everyone knew their part. Following Aurala’s instructions – although she did not speak audibly, Max picked up the ropes, handing one to Slater. They pulled while Palita pushed on the stone as though it weighed no more than a large tree trunk. Several seconds passed before he realised they no longer needed the rollers; the stone was supported by the energy in the spirit coils. Aurala guided it over the centre of the spiral. When she was happy it aligned so the centre of the stone was level with the sunrise line, she asked them to move outside the spiral.

  Somehow, she was not harmed by the energy of the spirit coils; she had stayed with one foot in contact with them for all the time they were within the spiral. Once they were safely out of danger, she threw the emerald dagger under the altar stone and took her foot off the coil. The energy surged up around her, glowing so brightly they could not see her. The men who could not see it before, shrank back at the fierce glow. Slater ran to the first coil, but Max pulled him back. ‘Solah take Aurala bride.’

  ‘No. Aurala mustn’t die. That wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to live.’

  Then, as quickly as it had surged up, the energy died down, starting from the outermost coil, getting smaller and disappearing as though someone was blowing it out. As the coils reduced, the stone’s position adjusted slightly until it thumped down into its final resting place.

  Shrugging free of Max’s grip, Slater raced to the centre. Aurala’s body was lying still on the ground just behind the stone. The sun’s rays were making the altar stone glow red, and again he saw the sparkling effect as the thousands of tiny crystals reflected the rays. There was still a chance, but he couldn’t do it alone. ‘Max, help …’

  Before he finished the sentence, Max’s strong arms were lifting her – he knew what to do without being asked. One of her limp arms fell and Slater caught it, helping the giant lower her body onto the altar stone. Her skin glowed pink as she was surrounded by the dancing light. Palita took his hand and linked with Max on the other side. Slater could feel the healing force of their prayers as he tentatively reached out to touch her arm. It felt as though every person present held their breath and willed them on as the distance between his hand and her deathly pale skin reduced. But it was not to be.

  A vicious howl shattered the silence and startled Slater’s arm away. Tauroch was not going to allow something as mighty as bringing a soul back from the dead to happen unless he was in charge. It was a clever piece of theatre, designed to fool the unwary. Unfortunately, it worked. The priest had obviously watched a solitary cloud approaching the sun and waited until it was about to cross the glowing orb before making his move. ‘Solah not glad. Stone wrong. Aurala die.’

  The men were used to fearing the shaman’s words and they recoiled from the spiral, breaking the mood. The fragile hope she would be the first to benefit from the healing powers of the completed temple was shattered as they withdrew their support with whispered prayers and gestures to protect themselves. Slater and the others tried to recreate the healing force but the stone was dull and their prayers alone did not have the same energy. Slater touched the cool flesh of her arm but nothing happened.

  Tauroch was emboldened by the reaction of the crowd, capering round the perimeter of the spiral, rattling bones and sprinkling dust from his pouch. He was obviously afraid of the might of the spirit coils, counteracting them with his own dark magic. If he completed the circle, there would be no hope for Aurala as the spiral’s power would be neutralised. A small, pale light still defined the coils, but it was gradually dimming where the shaman walked. In the distance, Slater could see the crowds of people approaching at a stately pace from the village, expecting to see their new temple blessed at sunset.

  The cloud covering the sun didn’t look very strong and would cross over in a few minutes, making the stone glow again. There might be a chance, if only they could stop Tauroch from completing his spell. Slater would need some strong magic, much more impressive than another fire-stick – they had all seen that before. But it would get their attention. Slater leapt onto the altar stone, avoiding Aurala’s still form, and held out his hands to the sun. ‘Solah rest. Need energy to make dead men walk.’

  The shaman was half way round now and must have sensed the desperation behind the tactic, stopping his task to gloat. ‘Slater lie. Solah die. Take bride life.’ His expression was full of contempt as he watched Slater’s attempts to revive the dead girl, using his last fire-stick to light candles at the corners of the stone, with a prayer at each one. But it lacked conviction; Slater was obviously just wasting time, waiting for something to happen. Catching sight of the cloud’s movement, the priest returned to his task, speeding up.

  Slater knew it was a race against time, but to be convincing, everything had to be done right. As well as the candles, Palita had given him some powder. He flung a handful in the air above the flame where it fizzed and spat, releasing a cloud of spicy smoke. ‘Solah, Slater and Aurala move stone. If stone right, Roldan walk again. If Solah glad, Jenoti walk again.’ He then did something unexpected, jumping off the stone and screeching like an owl as he ran to the edge of the temple. Running around the outside of the stones, he shouted the names of the dead men, urging them to come. When the circuit was complete, he returned to the centre to find Max had positioned himself on the edge of the spiral, blocking the shaman’s path and stopping him from completing the last dozen paces.

  Despite Tauroch’s threats and incantations, the giant held firm, sidestepping to prevent him from continuing his journey. Increasingly nasty threats revealed the shaman’s frustration, but Max was impervious, holding his ground with an unyielding expression.

  A murmur of disbelief whispered through the men as two hooded figures approached from the main entrance. Striding down the sunrise line like spirits with an earthly purpose, they stopped at the altar stone. ‘Who bring spirit from dead?’

  From his position, once more on top of the altar stone, Slater answered in the same, grave tone. ‘Solah bring spirit back for Durren.’

  The tall hooded figure leapt up onto the stone, drawing back his hood to reveal the chief’s son. A collective gasp rose up from the villagers gathering round the altar stone. Roldan held up his hand for silence. ‘Durren folk must know of evil. Tauroch murder Roldan and Jenoti. Slater bring back from dead.’ He held out his hand and Jenoti joined him on the stone, pushing his hood back and beaming at the crowd.

  The shaman took advantage of the distraction to attempt his escape, but Max was watching for this and grabbed his arm. As he was raised off the ground, the shaman twisted and scratched and bit. The giant just laughed as he disabled him efficiently, with the help of two men who hurried over to secure him with thick twine.

  Roldan raised his hands to the people. ‘Durren folk must help. Ask Solah for life of Aurala. If Solah glad, Aurala live.’ Closing the palms of his hands together in front of his face, he bowed his head at the same instant the cloud cleared the sun and the altar stone sparkled with tiny spots of light which danced around Aurala’s pale body. There were more gasps from the crowd, but the men who had seen the whole spectacle were dropping down on bended knee to pray for her life. The rest of the crowd followed,
and once more Palita linked hands with Max and Jenoti, who reached for Slater’s hand. Linking with Roldan, they spread out, forming a circle around the altar stone. As before, the combined prayers of so many people created a healing energy of such strength, they could feel the heat coursing through their bodies.

  The coils in the spiral began to glow deep blue as the bottom edge of the sun’s red disc touched the distant horizon. With no prompting, Roldan broke the link with Slater and they both took one of Aurala’s icy hands in theirs. Healing energy poured into her body, warming her so the colour returned, inching its way up to her face. Her eyes fluttered, then her body lurched as her heart restarted. She gasped for air, coughing as though she were choking.

  14 – Midsummer Celebration

  ‘Slater, wake up. The rite starts in ten minutes.’

  ‘Come on slacker, you’ll miss it. More to the point, so will we.’ Familiar voices penetrated the mists of sleep, but Slater could not quite recognise them. As they chattered, he realised that their speech patterns were normal – he must be home. He needed a moment to gather his thoughts – he was not ready for the onslaught that was the product of their concern tinged with annoyance.

  ‘You go back to the others and let them know they can call off the search. We’ll be there in a minute or two.’

  ‘Right. I bet they all gave up hours ago.’

  ‘We only started looking ten minutes ago. Stop complaining, Crosby.’