Holly stared admiringly at the girl and immediately became more decorous. She dropped her voice. “I wonder if the other stones have a heartbeat. Let’s walk around the Circle and listen.”
Owen counted the stones. “There are twelve stones in a curve here, then an enormous gap. A whole bunch are missing.” He pointed across the field. “Those big ones in the middle are on their own. They’re not part of the Circle. Where are the rest?”
“Follow the ditch,” said Holly. “Look.” She pointed to the gigantic hollow behind the stones. It curved around and continued after the last standing stone in the line. A path followed the rim. “I bet it goes round in a circle. The stones are set up along the inside rim.”
The cousins followed the path, stroking each stone along the way and hearing its heartbeat.
Holly was right. Even when there were missing stones, the ditch continued to circle. Four times there were entrances punched through the ditch, where two roads crossed the Great Circle. The children crossed the roads. Each time the curve of the ditch continued on the other side, encircling the village, with the stones on guard.
They had almost completed the circuit when the attack happened.
Chantel was lagging behind. It was a long walk on crutches and her leg ached. Ahead of her a hollow in a stone made a seat-like ledge. She sighed with relief. She could rest there.
Chantel limped toward the stone, then paused. She didn’t feel good. It was creepy. She felt as though someone was glaring at her, someone who hated her and wished her harm. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. She looked around but saw no one other than her brother and cousins nearby. The nearest people touring the stones were on the other side of the field with their backs to her.
Mystified, Chantel shook her head and started to hobble toward the stone again. Waves of hatred washed over her. She forced her limbs to move. Despite the summer sun, cold sweat trickled down her neck. She swayed with dizziness and drooped over her crutches.
“I mustn’t fall,” Chantel muttered to herself. “I mustn’t. I’ll hurt my leg. If only I can make it to the seat.” Step by step she forced herself to move closer. The waves of hatred seemed to be coming from the stone itself.
She stopped in confusion. If these were Ava’s magic stones they wouldn’t hurt her.
“Adam, Holly,” she called. “Owen.” Her voice was a croak. Sweat beaded her forehead. Blackness gathered behind her eyes. “ADAM!”
Her brother and cousins turned.
“What is it, Chantel?” Holly ran and put her arm around the younger girl. Chantel sagged against her.
Adam ran and supported her other side.
“Get me away from here.” With a massive effort, and her brother’s and cousin’s help, Chantel staggered beyond the stone. As she moved away, the awful feeling lessened. By the time she was leaning against the next stone, she was weak and shaken, but the feeling of hatred was gone.
“What was that all about?” Owen asked.
Chantel shrugged. “I . . . I’m not sure.” She tried to explain.
Adam ran back to the stone. He felt nothing. He ran around the stone several times, sat on the ledge and grinned at them. “Goofball, you were imagining it. Too long a walk and too much sun.”
Chantel shook her head. “I didn’t imagine it. Be careful, Adam Maxwell. There’s something nasty near that stone. It might get you.”
Adam rolled his eyes.
* * *
Once more the wraith lay curled in a ball in its cell. The child had sensed its presence and resisted. It must be sure that didn’t happen again.
Now its strength was spent. It must wait. It longed for the velvet darkness of a new night and the growing presence of the unknown power. If all went well it could gather more strength and try again.
* * *
“Amazing. The ditch is a perfect circle,” said Owen. “And it’s big. We must have walked over a mile. But loads of stones are missing. How come?”
“They’ve fallen down.” Holly pointed to one half-buried in the field.
“Some have,” said Adam. “But Owen’s right. It’s more than the odd one falling. Some are gone. I wonder what happened.”
“Someone in the museum will know. Let’s go there next,” Owen said.
“I can’t walk any farther,” said Chantel.
The others looked at her with concern.
Chantel’s face was still pale and she teetered shakily on her crutches.
“She’ll never make it home,” Holly said. “We should have been helping her instead of galloping ahead.”
Adam looked down at his sister. She was small and slight for her age. “I’ll piggyback you,” he offered.
Owen took the crutches and Adam bent down. Holly boosted Chantel onto Adam’s back and he carried her to Manor Cottage.
“We’ve got to find a better way of getting Chantel around,” Owen said as Chantel hopped over to her bed and lay down with a sigh of relief. “We used the pony trap in Uffington.” Owen thought for a minute. “We’ve bikes. Think we could rig up a wagon to pull between us?”
Chantel rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right!” She waved them away. “Go and explore. I’ll read.” She fiddled in her backpack and brought out a book.
“We’ll be back soon,” said Owen.
“Better tell Mum where we’re going and that Chantel’s here,” said Holly as they left.
* * *
Chantel snuggled into the pillow. Her eyelids drooped and the book slipped from her fingers.
Child, are you there? A gentle voice flowed through her dream.
Is that you, Horse?
A familiar feeling of warmth and friendship washed over Chantel. She smiled in her sleep. Equus, the Great White Horse, had come back to visit her. His mane tickled her cheek and his musky scent of horse sweat and hay surrounded her.
I’ve missed you, she murmured.
I’ve missed you too, Chantel. But you needed time to rest after recovering my talisman. We don’t want the burden to become too heavy.
Oh, Horse. Chantel smiled again. We want to help. It’s been hard waiting.
You are ready for the next task?
Yes, yes. Owen is so excited about Ava’s star message, but he doesn’t understand what to do.
Tell Owen that Ava will come tonight when he sleeps.
Dreams are the easiest way for children to see and understand. Chantel frowned. Horse, why don’t you just tell us what to do. It’s hard to figure things out from dreams.
Equus laughed, a whinnying bray. Yes, child, it would save much time. But we cannot undo Human Magic. Humans devised rituals to help them control Earth Magic. Humans must perform those rituals. Now do you understand?
Sort of, said Chantel doubtfully. But if you can’t do our magic, how come the Dark Being can?
Equus blew sadly through his nostrils. She cannot, but she will destroy much before she realizes it.
There was a long silence.
Horse, said Chantel hesitantly, let’s not talk about the Dark Being anymore. Please, can we go riding?
Of course. Come, child. I’ll show you Ava’s Great Circle from the air.
Chantel felt herself rise and there she was, perched on Equus’s broad white back. She twisted her hand in his mane and looked down. Manor Cottage and the tiny village of Avebury spread below like a toy model. Around the village ran the deep green ditch and the stones. She gasped. The Circle is enormous . . . I can see the whole thing from up here.
Equus gave a whickering chuckle. It was made that way.
To be seen from the air? Chantel was puzzled. Why? I thought it was made a long time ago. Auntie Lynne said five thousand years ago. No one flew then. She hesitated. Did they?
No, said Equus gently. But we were here. We’ve always been here.
Chantel smiled with delight. The Circle was made for you, like the White Horse carving!
The Circle was created to honor Ava, the White Horse to honor me.
Chantel stared
down while she stroked his neck and mane. Not all the stones are in a circle. Chantel pointed below. I can see two lines of stones winding over the fields. We didn’t notice those from the ground.
That’s the Avenue. It runs from the Circle to the Sanctuary. Equus leaped across the valley to the end of the Avenue.
He landed in a field with several rings of concrete blocks in the center. This is all that’s left of the Sanctuary. Markers to show where it once stood.
What happened? asked Chantel.
Equus shook his great head sadly. It was destroyed by your people when they discarded Old Magic.
Chantel gazed downward. She pointed to the conical mound in the distance. Is Silbury Hill Old Magic too?
The horse whickered. It is one of the greatest places of Earth Magic. It is the burial place of King Sel, a great king known for his fairness to his people and for his courage in battle. The mound was built over him where he fell in his last battle. King Sel answers only to himself, but it is said that in times of great danger to Gaia he will ride forth in golden armor on his horse, Aurora, to confront the evil.
Horse, I want to tell you about something evil. When we walked around the Circle, one of the stones made me feel bad, as though something was looking at me and hating me. It was horrible. Chantel shuddered. But no one else could feel it.
I will ask Ava. The stones are not evil, but as our Old Magic strengthens, so does the Dark Magic. Light and Dark, Dark and Light. Ava will know what hides near her stones. Until we know what the evil is, tell the others to stay away.
I will. But why was it only me that felt it?
You are the Magic Child. You worked with me and are more aware and sensitive to enchantment. As the other children work with us, their senses will expand too.
Holly can sense things. An oak tree talked to her when we were in the forest.
Chantel felt Equus stiffen. One of the sacred oaks?
I think so. Holly said it was the Mother Tree.
What wonderful news you bring me, Chantel. Thank you. Let us ride the wind and celebrate!
Chantel leaned forward as Equus leaped for the stars. They galloped along sunbeams, cantered through clouds of stardust and jumped over galaxies. The winds of time lifted Chantel’s curls and whispered wordless songs in her ears. Finally she drooped with exhaustion over Equus’s neck.
Sleep and dream, child. Sleep and dream. Call if you need me. I will not be far away.
The voice faded. Chantel slept.
* * *
She woke with a start. A squeaking sound and chuckles were coming from the patio. She leaned up on one elbow and stared.
A giant wicker basket on wheels stood outside the French doors.
Holly poked her head into the bedroom. “Good, you’re awake. See what we found in the antique shop across the road.” She giggled again. “It’s called a Bath chair. We’ve talked the owner, Mrs. Bates, into renting it for the week.”
Chantel burst out laughing. “A bath chair! It won’t hold much water!”
“That’s what I said,” chuckled Owen. “But Mrs. Bates said they were first made in the city of Bath.”
The Bath chair was really an old-fashioned wheelchair made of woven cane. Crimson leather cushions padded the seat, and the wicker webbing rose over it in a hood. It had three wheels. Two large wheels with rubber tires supported the back. A metal handle rose from the chassis and curved up around the hood. A smaller wheel in the middle of the long leg rest at the front had a shaft and steering mechanism for the occupant to guide it.
“Go on, sit in it. We push, you steer.” Owen chuckled. “But watch it. The hood is so big we can’t see where we’re going.”
Chantel hopped over and wiggled in. There was lots of room for her cast to stretch out comfortably. She grasped the steering bar. Owen and Adam leaned on the handle.
Despite squeaks, the Bath chair moved smoothly forward.
Owen and Adam pushed and Chantel steered down the path, along the side of the house and across the gravel courtyard. They paused at the road. It was empty. They bowled out into the street.
“Faster!” called Chantel.
The boys grinned at each other and started to jog.
Passersby stared and someone whistled.
The boys propelled the Bath chair at a spanking pace down the street. A hedge rose in front of them. Chantel suddenly realized that the road came to a dead end. At the last minute she turned the front wheel and they swung round the next corner. A teenage girl holding an ice cream appeared in front of them.
“STOP!” yelled Chantel.
Adam dug in his heels and Owen yanked on the brake. The Bath chair screeched to a halt, but not before the leg rest bumped into the back of the teenager’s knee and knocked her off balance.
“Idiots!” the girl shouted, her arms flailing above her head in an effort to stay upright. The ice cream shot from the cone, flew through the air and landed in her hair.
Owen and Adam muffled snorts of laughter. Chantel tried not to chuckle.
Holly cycled up behind them. “Oops,” she said with a laugh.
Then she saw that the victim was the dark-haired teen she had admired earlier. “We’re so sorry,” she said. “We were trying out the Bath chair so our cousin doesn’t have to walk everywhere with her broken leg.” Holly babbled on and on in an attempt to smooth things over. “Here.” She fished into her jeans pocket and brought out some change. “We’ll buy you another ice cream. We’re really, really sorry.”
The girl ignored Holly and glared at Chantel and the boys. “Just watch it in future,” she said icily, wiping the mess off her long dark hair with a tissue. She stalked past them.
Holly flushed.
Adam struggled to control himself but made the mistake of looking at Chantel.
“Bad hair day,” Chantel said.
All three cousins howled with laughter.
“You are so embarrassing,” said Holly. She turned her bike and cycled away.
* * *
“We’re in this village for ten minutes, and already I’m hearing stories of the mad Maxwell kids,” grumbled Uncle Ron at teatime. “As for that contraption outside, how long do you kids think it will last if you crash into people? You won’t be renting it for a week. You’ll be paying for it out of your pocket money for years to come. You realize it’s an antique?”
“You could have hurt someone,” said Aunt Lynne.
“We’ll be careful now we know how fast it can go. It’s brilliant though, isn’t it, Dad?” said Owen.
“Out!” Owen’s father pointed to the patio. “You know the deal. You’re not eating inside with us until you find a washing machine.”
“I thought you were joking,” Owen protested.
“The joke’s on you, son. You can join us when you smell better.”
Owen grabbed his plate and stomped into the kitchen.
Adam and Chantel exchanged glances, sank down in their chairs and got on with their spaghetti.
“Actually, the Bath chair was a brilliant idea,” Uncle Ron said, grinning across at Chantel. “As long as you don’t mind riding in it.”
Chantel gave a shy smile and shook her head.
“I’ll pay for the rental. Holly, come and settle up with me after tea. Just treat the darn chair with respect. It belonged to Lady Mayerthorpe at the manor. People around here remember her using it.”
Adam gave a snort and jabbed Chantel in the ribs. “Don’t get any ideas about being Lady Whatshername,” he whispered.
“Thanks, Dad,” said Holly. “Where is the manor? Is it nearby? Is that why this place is called Manor Cottage?”
“I thought you explored the village this afternoon.”
Holly grinned. “We went round the stones, but other than the chariot race we never got past the antique shop across the road.”
Her father laughed. He pulled several tourist brochures out of his pocket. “I picked up these. One’s a map of the village.” He spread it out on the table and ja
bbed his finger in the middle. “We’re right in the center of the Circle. The barns next door are the museum complex. Here’s the manor, behind the church at the end of the road. It’s also part of the museum complex. The family still lives there, but you can go around the gardens and I think the ground floor of the house is open to the public.” He pushed the other folders across to Holly, then took out his wallet and extracted four plastic tags. “Look after these. They will get you into the museums and the manor as many times as you like, without paying.”
“Dad, you’re the greatest.” Holly ran around the table and gave him a hug.
“We can get in the museum free? Great! We can find out more about the Stone Circle,” Owen said as he bounded back into the dining room dressed only in a towel clutched around his waist.
“I see you’ve discovered the washing machine.” Lynne chuckled. She eyed the towel. “Does this mean you brought only dirty clothes?”
“That’s no problem. They’ll be clean soon.” Owen was unrepentant. “There’s a dryer too.” He grinned at his mother.
“Do you have any washing you’d like me to pop in?”
His mum laughed and made a mock attempt to tweak away his towel.
With a yell, Owen ran back into the kitchen.
Adam and Chantel watched the family byplay.
“I wish our mom and dad teased and laughed,” whispered Adam.
“Me too,” agreed Chantel.
They lapsed into unhappy silence.
* * *
The hawk flew out of the trees and circled high over the stones, watching and waiting.
As the sun set, the summer twilight freed the shadows. They lengthened and stretched, hiding where stone finished and ground began. The hawk circled watchfully, for as the shadows gathered, the beings of the night stirred.
This night nothing seemed amiss. A steady stream of bats flew above the Circle, weaving, darting and snatching at insects. They spotted the hawk and circled it in acknowledgment, then returned to their feeding.
The night-prowling wraith emerged.
The hawk stared down.
The wraith prowled around the Circle, searching for the entrance it was always denied. Though its mist seemed stronger and denser, its actions were the same as always. There was nothing to suggest it knew that the Dark Power was approaching.
Dance of the Stones Page 4
