She faded out.
* * *
Owen dragged his eyes away from the barn and looked at his sister and cousins. “You’d better hear what happened to Chantel.”
Chantel’s story shook them.
“We shouldn’t have left you alone,” Holly said.
“It’s okay. You didn’t know. No one did,” said Chantel. “I just wish I knew why it happened.”
“It must be something to do with the acorn,” said Owen. “Swoop said Ava dropped it.”
“If it dropped on someone . . . the girl chasing Chantel . . . the wraith must have got her,” said Holly.
There was a horrified silence.
Adam fidgeted uneasily. He felt weird. His body was tingling as though he needed to run around and shake out excess energy. Swinging his legs under the table, he attempted to stop the tingles. It didn’t work. If only Owen would decide upon a plan of action so there was no more waiting. If something didn’t happen soon he felt as though he would explode.
* * *
Owen jumped up. He’d spotted a bat flying around the corner of the barn. “Swoop?” he called.
The bat circled above his head, squeaking in short sharp bursts.
The other children watched in amazement.
“You understand that?” asked Adam. His voice was full of disbelief.
“Sort of,” said Owen. His eyes filled with tears. “They can’t get Ava out. She’s dying.” He sat down at the table and buried his head in his arms.
“What are we going to do?” whispered Chantel.
No one answered. They stared at the locked-up barn.
* * *
Chantel squeezed her eyes shut. Equus, she called. She focused, sending the mindspeak with every ounce of her being. Her small body trembled with effort. She waited and waited for a reply. No waves of comfort washed over her, only her own despair.
* * *
Adam watched his little sister, a curl to his lip. He knew what she was doing, trying to save the universe again. Well, maybe she was out of luck. Maybe the Wise Ones weren’t so wise after all.
Chantel finally looked across at him. Her big green eyes were so full of fear, his heart melted. He thrust out his hand and grasped hers.
“Adam,” she said forlornly, “Equus isn’t there.”
Adam opened his mouth to comfort her when the tingling overtook his body. His mind was zapped by a slab of mindspeak so gigantic that it sounded as though someone was shouting.
CHILD, OPEN YOUR HEART AND HEAR ME! GO TO THE CIRCLE. YOU MUST ALL USE EARTH MAGIC TO WILL AVA BACK TO HER CIRCLE.
There was no mistaking the roar. It was Myrddin’s voice.
Adam leaped to his feet. A Wise One had spoken to him!
His face transformed. “Come on,” he yelled. “Myrddin’s sent me a message. We go to the Circle.”
The urgency in Adam’s voice drew everyone after him.
Adam took off at a run across the courtyard.
“Wait for me,” called Chantel.
Her brother stopped dead in his tracks. He changed direction and ran across to the Bath chair. “Get in quick.”
Owen dashed his hand across his eyes and ran to help Adam push. Holly grabbed her bike and followed.
They hurried down the path, between the stones and into the center of the Great Circle.
“We have to make a circle,” said Adam.
The tone of his voice stopped any arguing. Chantel climbed out of the Bath chair and the four of them joined hands.
“We have to do Earth Magic. We have to wish Ava here, will her to come back to her Circle.”
The children looked helplessly at each other.
“It was in your dream, Owen, remember?” said Adam impatiently. “The people called Ava to the Circle. You described it.”
“They had a rhyme, then they chanted her name,” Owen said slowly. A glimmer of hope stirred in his heart. “They took a vow with the shaman.” He paused, gathered his thoughts, then slowly recited. “‘We all bear witness. Reveal and die. Let the Circle keep its secret while stones stand and hawks fly.’ Then everyone began to chant her name, ‘Ava, Ava, AVA, AVA’”
“Okay,” said Adam, “let’s do it. Now!”
“We all bear witness. Reveal and die. Let the Circle keep its secret while stones stand and hawks fly. Ava, Ava, Ava, Ava, Ava, Ava, Ava, Ava.”
The four voices tailed off.
Holly looked around the field, embarrassed, but no one was watching their odd behavior. “I feel stupid,” she admitted.
“I guess we have to believe it if it’s going to work,” said Owen uncertainly. “The people in my dream did. They really shouted out her name.”
The cousins held hands again.
“Wish harder,” exhorted Adam.
“Hurry up and make it work. Ava’s dying.” Owen squeezed the hands on either side of him. “She’s dying on her own in the barn and there’s no way we can get in.” His voice grew and strengthened. “Earth Magic is what the people who built this Circle used. I saw it work.” He stared around at the stones. “Adam’s right. We have to really wish Ava here. We don’t just say her name. We will her here with every bone in our bodies.”
“When I call Equus, I close my eyes and see him in my head,” said Chantel.
Holly smiled at her. “Good idea. We’ll all try to see Ava as we chant her name.”
Adam looked around the circle. “Ready? Now!”
The four children spoke together.
“We all bear witness. Reveal and die. Let the Circle keep its secret while stones stand and hawks fly. Ava, Ava, Ava, Ava, Ava, Ava, Ava, Ava.”
The chant grew.
The children’s eyes were closed and they swayed gently as they called more loudly. “AVA, AVA, AVA, AVA, AVA, AVA, AVA!”
A gentle swirl of wind stirred the children’s hair as it spun in the center of their small circle. The children opened their eyes.
A hawk lay on the grass at their feet, blood seeping through the matted feathers at her breast.
Owen cried out. He fell to his knees and cradled Ava in his arms. Her head lolled. Her eyes were closed. He looked up at the others, his face white and full of dread.
* * *
Waiting for sunset was a nightmare. The children hid Ava in the Bath chair while they went in for tea, but no one ate much.
One by one they slipped out to check on the hawk as she lay panting on the cushion. Each time her body seemed smaller, flatter, as if life were oozing away. They covered her, dripped a little water into her beak, but nothing seemed to help.
Finally, the sun was an orange ball hanging near the horizon.
It was time.
Chantel waved them off.
* * *
The black silhouette of Silbury Hill loomed against the vivid sky. Holly, Owen and Adam jogged swiftly up the path and came out unnoticed behind the hill.
Holly ran to check the car park. All was clear.
“Now what? It better be quick!” said Owen, a catch in his voice. “I’m not sure Ava’s breathing.”
They peered at the bird cradled in his arms. Her eyelids flickered. Owen gave a tiny sob of relief.
“Here.” Holly yanked on the wire fence and lifted it as high as she could. “Give Ava to Adam and crawl underneath.”
Owen wriggled through to the other side of the fence. The sunset was fiercely orange, but he stood in the shadow of the hill and waited. Adam handed Ava over the fence. Then he and Holly helped each other through.
“I don’t know what to do,” said Owen.
“What if we circle seven times around the base of the hill?” said Adam. “That’s what Chantel did when she raised the White Horse. We’ll call for King Sel as we go round.”
“Go, go, go.” Holly’s voice was urgent. “The sun’s dropping fast.”
Owen stepped into the glow of the sunset and stretched out his arms, offering Ava’s body to the light, but her head hung slackly over the edge of his palm. Her eyes were shut a
nd Owen could detect no breath. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He drew his arms back, laid her head against his shoulder and cradled her over his heart.
Holly’s and Adam’s voices rose around him.
“King Sel, please help us. Please help us, King Sel.”
They trudged around the base of the hill seven times.
The sun touched the horizon and vivid beams shot across the shadowy landscape. One caught and held Owen in its spotlight.
Instinctively, he closed his eyes, threw back his head and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Hear me, King Sel. The Wise Ones need your help. I bring you Ava.”
“Who calls the Golden King?” rumbled a voice that seemed to echo from the center of the mound.
Adam nudged Holly. “We do, Holly and Adam!” they replied shakily.
“And me. I’m Owen.” Owen opened his eyes fearfully. He sensed a movement behind him.
A shimmering light glowed in the shadows at the base of Silbury Hill. Within it was the faint form of a crowned king mounted on a horse. The horse started to circle the hill, gradually moving upward on a spiral path. The ghostly figures passed by the children without a sound, without acknowledgement.
Owen, Holly and Adam crept silently after them.
Round and round they spiraled, into the shadows and back to the light, climbing higher and higher. After each circuit the gold figures ahead grew more substantial.
It was a struggle. The hill was steep and the grass slippery. Owen could only steady himself with one hand for he held Ava tenderly with the other.
He scrabbled and scraped, lurching sideways and often slipping. His heart pounded. The spiral walk was taking forever, and the sun was sinking lower and lower.
Finally they reached the summit.
The horse and king paused. Caught in the last beam of sunlight, their every feature gleamed. The rippling muscles of the horse and each silky hair of his tail and mane could be counted. The golden rings of the king’s finely wrought chain mail glittered and danced, and his shield was a blaze of reflected fire.
Holly and Adam fell to their knees and covered their eyes.
Only Owen remained standing. His knees trembled, but he met the king’s stern gaze, Ava clutched to his heart.
The Golden King sat on his golden horse and looked down at the awestruck children.
“A Magic Child!” said the king. A brief smile crossed his features. He beckoned Owen forward.
Owen stumbled across the summit, half-blinded by the brilliance, half-blinded by tears. “It’s too late.” His voice was empty. “She’s dead.”
The Golden King bent forward and held out his shield.
Owen laid Ava in the hollow.
The Golden King supported the shield with one hand and slapped the reins with the other. His horse reared in salute, then cantered off the edge of the hill along the last golden beam of sunlight to the horizon.
FLASH! They vanished with the sun.
His heart breaking, Owen stared and stared after them.
The orange sky faded to pink, the pink to gray, and finally, when the gray matched the darkness in their hearts, the children crept home.
10.
EVERYBODY SWING
The darkness swirled, tossing Equus like a leaf in a storm. He struggled to keep upright, but the blackness was so complete that there was neither up nor down.
Screams of fury rang in his ears. “I sense you, Equus. You cannot hide forever.” The Dark Being sent another wave of buffeting blackness followed by a vortex of sucking despair. It whirled randomly across the heavens as far as her range extended.
I have misjudged her strength, thought Equus. He struggled to fight the vortex, but despair clutched his heart and began to empty it of hope. Grimly, he held his head high. The talisman glinted. I hold the gold talisman. I hold the light, he told himself. I must keep the flame alive. He forced his muscles to fight the buffeting, to gallop from the clutching shadows.
* * *
Much, much later, Equus lay trembling with exhaustion between the shattered portals of the Gates of Sunrise. Though the great entrance to the Silver Citadel lay in ruins, and the Place Beyond Morning had been abandoned, he still found refuge there. Despite the onslaught of the Dark Being, invisible remnants of the Citadel’s power hung in the air. Equus closed his eyes and let the remnants drift over his body. They caressed and refreshed him as only the healing powers of his home could.
He had courted annihilation and played mind games with the Dark Being. Mind games she had nearly won!
Equus shuddered at the memory of her strength. The balance of power had truly shifted. He would carry back to the Wise Ones knowledge of what he had feared. The Dark Being had gained enough strength to challenge them all.
A song roused him. A tiny bird, a lark, flew over the blackened walls of the Citadel and sang a welcome.
Equus raised his head.
The music washed over him, cleansing his spirit. With its help, Equus forced the dark memories deep into the recesses of his mind, to be pulled out and dealt with one by one with the wisdom of Myrddin and Ava.
Strengthened, Equus rose to his feet. “Little lark,” he said, “you are the smallest of the inhabitants that fled the Place Beyond Morning, yet you are the first one back. Why?”
The lark paused in its song and tipped its head on one side. “You have found Magic Children,” she answered, “and the shadow lightened.”
Equus looked sadly across the ruins toward the mist hanging over the land he loved. “The shadow has deepened again.”
“Every time I sing, it thins,” replied the lark and opened its throat. Out spilled a trill so beautiful, the air shimmered with light and the edge of the mist retreated.
Gladness filled Equus. “You are right, little lark. You shame me. The shadow has no power over true innocence. We shall both sing away the dark and welcome back the light.”
Equus threw back his head and sang with the bird. His deep voice expressed his fears and sang of his desires. His voice roared in defiance and sweetened with hope, and the little lark trilled its song around his.
Finally the song was ended. With renewed heart and mind, Equus leaped for the stars and rode the winds toward Gaia.
* * *
Holly tiptoed past Owen’s bed, bent over Adam and shook his shoulder.
He grunted.
She held a warning hand gently over his mouth. “Shhhhhh.” She placed her lips nearer his ear. “Adam, it’s time to go and save the Mother Tree. The rally’s this morning.”
Adam’s eyes flickered and he frowned. He sat up looking rumpled and distressed. “I’ve hardly slept.”
Holly sighed. “Me too.” She squared her shoulders. “We couldn’t stop Ava dying, but I’m not going to let the Mother Tree be destroyed. Are you coming or not?” she finished in a fierce whisper.
“I’m coming.” Adam looked across at Owen, curled in a tight unhappy ball. “It’s not going to be much fun around here.” He rolled out of bed.
The two cousins pedaled one behind the other down the sunlit road. It was still before seven, and though the birds had been singing for hours, only a few cars passed them. The morning light was so bright that the world looked newly polished, and the wind in their faces smelled clean and fresh. Their spirits lightened.
Adam pumped his legs faster and drew level with Holly.
“What’s your plan?” he yelled.
Holly flashed him a grin. “A ‘sit-in’ up the tree.”
Adam laughed. “Oh boy! For how long?”
“As long as it takes,” said Holly firmly.
* * *
Chantel pushed her cereal around her plate.
“Are you feeling all right?” asked Aunt Lynne.
Chantel smiled weakly. “I’m fine. Just not very hungry.”
“There’s something going on again, isn’t there?” Lynne’s sudden attack caught Chantel by surprise. “It’s not like Owen to sleep in late,” she continued. “And where are Adam and Hol
ly?”
“They’ve g . . . g . . . gone for a bike ride,” muttered Chantel. She fingered the note in the pocket of her shorts. She’d promised Holly she’d leave it somewhere for Auntie Lynne to find. But it was still too early. Holly had insisted not before nine o’clock. “I don’t want Dad driving down the highway to pick us up,” she’d said. “So wait!”
Chantel waited, checking the clock every five minutes.
“How could they go off without telling us?” Lynne tutted crossly. “Holly certainly knows better than that!”
Chantel felt guiltier and guiltier. She wandered into the kitchen and washed her dishes, then took refuge in the bedroom.
* * *
Despite the sunshine, Owen huddled under the bedcovers. He didn’t care if he lived or died. Ava was dead. The knowledge carved a deep hole inside him, a hole as big as the universe. He wished he could fall through it to oblivion.
* * *
The church clock struck nine.
“Finally,” sighed Chantel with relief. She straightened her bed, turned and stuck the note between the pillow and rumpled quilt of Holly’s unmade bed. Auntie Lynne would be sure to come in and fix it.
She reentered the kitchen. “Can I go read in the Stone Circle?” she asked.
Lynne nodded. “If you see Holly and Adam, tell them I want to speak to them.”
“Okay,” said Chantel uncomfortably. She limped out as fast as she could.
* * *
Holly and Adam hid their bikes among the ferns and crept through Savernake Forest.
Though they had made good time, they were far from the first protesters there. Over fifty people had gathered. Some hung around in the car park and others were striding determinedly along the road toward a parked yellow bull–dozer in a lay-by.
“Darn,” said Holly, spying out the land from behind a bush. “I was hoping we’d be here first. We need to get up the tree without anyone seeing us.”
“No one is in the forest,” pointed out Adam. “They’re too busy discussing chaining up the bulldozer.”
Dance of the Stones Page 11
