“We are inside the Circle, idiot. The stones are all around us, remember?”
“I know, but does the garden count as much as being in the field beside a stone?”
“It counts,” said Holly softly. “The whole area has been a special place for thousands of years. Yes, it counts.”
Owen held out the acorn to Holly. “You bury it.”
Holly stuck her hands on her hips. “Owen Maxwell, smarten up! You’re the chosen one this time. It’s up to you. Are you going to give up, chicken out and let the Dark Being get the circlet? Or are you going to organize Ava’s ritual? We can bury the acorn at the same time.”
For a moment Owen rocked on the balls of his feet as though he were going to launch himself in fury at Holly. Instead, he took a deep breath. “The ritual,” he said clearly.
* * *
Owen lay on his back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He still had not figured out what to do and twilight was approaching fast.
The loss of Ava haunted him, but now his grief was tempered with determination. He was going to find her circlet and hand it over to the remaining Wise Ones as she had requested. Just how to do it eluded him. Desperately he went over and over the dreams, trying to decide on the key bits. If only Ava could help. Tears gathered in his eyes. He dashed them away. If only the stones could talk. Hey . . . the stones!
Owen leaped to his feet and slipped down the stairs. He paused as he passed the living room. The TV was on. Good, everyone else was in there. He slipped out the kitchen door.
Keeping to the shadows, Owen ran silently down the garden and through the gate to the nearest stone. He threw his arms around it and laid his cheek on the surface.
At first there was nothing. He made himself relax. Then it happened. He heard and felt the slow steady heartbeat.
“Stone,” he whispered, “please help me. How do I find Ava’s circlet? What do I have to do to make you dance?”
A ripple of amusement ran through the stone. Magic Child, we thought you’d never think to ask. Listen and learn, listen and learn.
Owen closed his eyes and concentrated. His heartbeat slowed and beat as one with the heart of the stone. Images flew through his mind, ancient words whispered in his ears and strength flowed from the stone into his heart.
Finally Owen stood. “Thank you,” he said formally and bowed to the stone. “I think I understand.” Swift as a hawk he flew back to the house and slipped upstairs to his room.
No one had missed him.
* * *
It was midnight. The moon was full. Brittle white light washed across Gaia, illuminating the stones and the sleeping village.
Equus and Myrddin gazed down at the peaceful scene in silence. They, and the universe, held their breath.
Small shadows moved! Four children crept from a darkened cottage and made their way across the village street, through the stile, to the far side of the Stone Circle.
The Wise Ones waited.
“If only we could . . . ” began Equus.
Myrddin stretched out a warning hand. “Trust. They must find their own way to express what’s in their hearts.”
Equus fell silent again.
A tiny orange light flickered, then another, and another, many small candles making a circle. A circle within the Circle, one not easily seen from the village, but one that could be seen from the stars.
Myrddin and Equus exchanged hopeful glances.
Suddenly Myrddin raised his arms. “Blessings,” he roared.
“Owen has chosen well. This is the magic night Ava was waiting for. Look at her stones!”
* * *
“Oh, look at the stones.” Chantel unconsciously echoed the Wise Ones.
The other children, sitting on the ground within the circle of candles, looked up.
Each stone glowed.
“Listen.” Holly tilted her head.
“It’s their heartbeats.” Owen’s voice was filled with awe as he identified the deep pulse in the air. “We’re doing it right.” He straightened his body and visibly gained in stature and confidence. He gently touched five objects lying in the middle of the circle: a lump of earth, a feather, a candle, a bucket of water and the mistletoe. “The stones said the earth, water, fire and air are symbols to help our minds focus. It doesn’t matter how we use them, and that’s why everyone’s ritual is different. As long as we concentrate and believe.” Owen bent forward and picked up the hawk’s feather that he had found the first day. “The symbol of the air we breathe. It reminds me of Ava and makes her seem closer.”
Holly stretched out her hand and picked up the lump of soil. She crumbled it and let the dust drop back to the ground. “Earth supports us and strengthens us.” She broke a sprig of mistletoe from the bough in front of her and tucked it in the buttonhole of her shirt. “And the plant that needs no earth reminds me of all the wonders and mysteries we will never be able to explain.”
Adam touched the bucket of water. “Water from the stream that doesn’t run. Without water, things die. It also cleans us. This reminds us to clean our hearts as well as our bodies.” He plunged in his hand and shook drops over everyone.
Chantel lit a candle in a small holder. She held it up. “Fire gives us warmth and makes a light in the darkness. It stops us being scared.” She placed the candle in the middle of their circle and stretched out her arms.
The children clasped their hands to complete a third circle with the flame at its heart. “A circle of children,” said Holly, “within a circle of fire, within the Great Circle of Stones. Let’s try the chant now.”
“Light and Dark, Dark and Light,” said the children softly.
Light and Dark, Dark and Light, joined in Equus and Myrddin.
Light and Dark, Dark and Light, called out a strong new voice.
Sun by day, Moon by night,
Man and woman, adult, child,
Bird and beast, both tame and wild,
Past and present, far and near,
Patience, anger, hope and fear,
Frantic movement, contemplation . . .
Dave the Druid materialized in the shadows beyond the candles. The Dance of Stones, a celebration! he finished. He smiled at the children. “You called us all. Come, join the dance.” He held out his hands.
As in a dream and without fear, the children stepped over the circle of fire and joined the shadow people within the Great Circle of Stones.
Owen recognized figures from the past: the two shamans, the People of the Deer and the People of the Hawk, Hewll and Ulwin and their families, even the men and women from the night of destruction. Chantel and Holly recognized people from the naming ceremony: the woman with the baby, the drummers and dancers, even the teenage girl. There were many other shadow people no one knew.
Adam tried to understand. “Who are they? Are they ghosts? Are we dead?”
“No, we are joining the memories of all those who are, and have ever been, part of the great Circle Dance,” replied Dave the Druid. “Are you ready? It’s beginning.”
A line formed and the shadow people began to wind in and out between the stones. The children and Dave joined in as the line passed by. Each stone’s light pulsed. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! thudded the heartbeat. It was all around, in front, behind, in the air above and vibrating from the ground below.
The line stepped in time, winding around stone after stone.
Owen turned his head. “The missing stones are back,” he whispered, for as they danced past each gap, up rose a ghost stone.
Round and round stepped the line again, in and out of the ghost stones as well as the real stones until the Great Circle was complete.
The heartbeat quickened. The dance steps matched it. Dancers held hands and made their circle within the Stone Circle. They circle danced for the sun, with the glow from the candles’ flames on their faces.
Next the dancers turned outward and faced toward the stones. They danced for the moon and stars, bathed in the pulsing white light.
&n
bsp; Finally they danced for the stones themselves. Faster and faster the dancers stepped until each stone spun on its axis in a swirl of sound and light.
“The stones, they dance!” Owen cried.
Time and space met.
The village faded away, the great white walls of chalk from the ditch rose protectively around the Stone Circle, and beyond the ditch spread the ancient forest of sacred oaks.
KER-BOOM! KER-BOOM! KER-BOOM! KER-BOOM! The heartbeat slowed and stopped. Everyone turned silently to the center of the Circle where the children’s candles glowed with orange flames.
The hawk-headed shaman beckoned to Hewll. Antler pick in hand, Hewll strode into the center and thrust the pick into the ground, peeling back turf and exposing a small slab of rock. Hewll beckoned to the children. They circled the slab and stared at it.
Everyone watched.
Owen took Hewll’s pick. He tried to pry up the rock slab. It was immovable. All four children crouched and thrust their fingers into the cracks around the edge. They pulled together. Nothing moved.
“Earth Magic hid the circlet. Only Earth Magic can reveal it,” whispered Dave the Druid.
“I don’t know what else to do,” Owen cried.
“Think of your dreams. The clue must be in your dreams,” said Holly. “Think.”
Owen thought. He relived everything he’d seen in the circle dreams. Nothing.
“Come on, Owen. There must be something that you haven’t tried.”
Owen shook his head. “Only breaking the stone.” He looked at the other kids. “Hey, maybe that’s it! Ava showed me the night of destruction. The stones were broken by the blacksmith. We need wood and fire and water.” He turned to the gathering behind him.
Each shaman through the ages lifted one arm and held up a stick.
Owen pointed to Holly. “Place the mistletoe ball over the slab.”
Holly dropped it in place.
“Stack the sticks on top,” Owen shouted, and one by one the shamans from the past moved silently forward and built a small bonfire.
Owen pointed to Chantel. “You are the bringer of fire.”
Chantel picked up a candle, held the flame to a stick and stepped back.
All eyes watched.
The tiny flame flickered and glowed and licked the end of a second stick. That too began to flicker. Both flames danced and spread, until with a crackle and roar a small bonfire lit up the night sky and the onlookers’ faces.
Owen waited until the fire died down and the coals at its heart glowed red and hot.
He pointed to Adam. “Now!” he shouted. “Water from the stream that does not run.”
Adam picked up the bucket and dashed the ice-cold water on the fire. There was a hiss and a loud CRACK, followed by an acrid stench and billows of smoke. The children covered smarting eyes and coughed and choked.
“Did it work?” gasped Adam.
Owen was too busy coughing to answer. He waited until the smoke had cleared, then, using Hewll’s pick, he raked the coals to one side.
The rock slab had split across its middle. Owen stretched out his hands to lift the slab.
“Careful, it’s hot,” warned Holly.
“It isn’t. It’s Earth Magic,” said Owen. He lifted aside the two pieces of rock, thrust his hand in the cavity and brought out a small pot.
A sigh like the rustle of autumn leaves rippled through the watchers. The chief shaman, her golden mask glinting in the candlelight, glided to the center and stood before Owen.
He handed her the pot. With reverence, she lifted the lid, pulled out the leather bag and offered it to Owen. Hand trembling, Owen removed the circlet and held it high.
“Ava, Ava, Ava, AVA,” the ghostly whispers rose as the shadow dancers knelt.
“Should we kneel?” whispered Holly.
Owen shook his head. “We are Magic Children. We have a journey to take.” He turned toward the entrance to the Avenue.
King Sel and his golden horse stood waiting. The king raised a finger and beckoned. Owen approached. Holly, Adam and Chantel followed. One by one, King Sel lifted the children and placed them on Aurora’s broad back. They sat astride, holding tightly to the waist of the child before. Owen sat at the front holding Ava’s circlet.
The king twitched the reins and Aurora stepped forward.
He led the way along the moonlit Avenue that wound serpent-like across the land toward the Sanctuary. Dave the Druid fell in behind. Behind him processed the many shamans from the past. The dancers followed.
* * *
Tears of joy ran unchecked down Myrddin’s face. “Light and Dark, Dark and Light. The followers of light gather, despite threatening darkness.”
“They gather because darkness threatens,” said Equus gently. He stamped his hoof and sent a shower of shooting stars toward Gaia. “My talisman is regained, and Ava’s circlet is within reach. The Mother Tree speaks and the Forest Magic is rekindled. You are right, Myrddin, the Old Magic is strengthening. If only the children can keep light in their hearts, soon we will rejoice.”
* * *
The procession wound its solemn way toward a small round wooden building on a cleared hill.
“Enter the Sanctuary,” said King Sel as the Avenue emerged from the forest. “The last steps of the journey you must take alone.”
One by one he lifted the children down and pointed toward the building.
The children stepped hesitantly onto velvet-smooth grass inside a circle of living oak trees. In the center loomed the Sanctuary. There were no windows and there was no door, only a black opening between upright posts.
Chantel slid her hand into Adam’s. He grasped it tightly.
Holly stepped closer to Owen. “I don’t like this,” she whispered.
“Me neither,” Owen admitted. He turned back to King Sel.
The Golden King sat on his horse, blocking the return down the Avenue. Dave the Druid and the other shamans stood between the encircling oak trees. Their faces were kindly but unyielding. There was no way back.
The Golden King raised his arm and pointed sternly to the black opening.
“Enter you must, but remember the light.”
Hand in hand the two pairs of children stepped through the doorway. There was only one way to turn, down a narrow passage of wattle walls that pressed against them. It forced them to wind around and around farther into the dark. Owen and Holly went first.
The blackness was full of voices.
Each child heard something different.
Owen heard Ava crying for help. Her voice echoed and re-echoed in his head. Then came the visions. He relived her bleeding to death in his arms. Sobs shook his frame and the darkness around him entered his body. With each step came more black despair.
Holly heard laughing. Older girls were laughing at her. She hated people laughing at her, embarrassing her and making her feel small. Suddenly she heard the scornful voice of the long-haired girl telling Holly what a jerk she was. Holly knew she was useless. She trembled, knowing that even though she tried to be strong, it was no use. She would never be brave and clever and responsible like them. She would never achieve anything. The feelings of failure rolled over her and weighed her down. What was the point of going on?
Adam heard his father and mother. His parents’ voices were raised in anger, screaming that they were divorcing because of him. Adam cowered against the wall. He’d known it all along. Everything was his fault. They were right. He was a nasty horrible person; he had no friends; he scared his sister; his cousins didn’t want him; and he’d made his parents fight. Adam felt his heart breaking.
Chantel huddled at his side. She too heard her parents shouting. She hated shouting. Trembling, she tried to shut out the cruel words by placing her hands over her ears, but the words were inside her head . . . Hateful words that got bigger and louder and whirled madly around her brain, driving out everything else. She was in their way. They didn’t love her. That was why she was sent to England. She sa
w her mother throwing her clothes in a suitcase and thrusting her roughly in the cab. With a moan, Chantel sank to the floor.
Owen’s hand hurt as it tightened around the sharp edge of Ava’s circlet. The hurt reminded him of the circlet, reminded him to think of light. He tried to remember why, and the darkness around his hand lightened. He lifted his hand and the stone in the circlet glowed.
“Remember the light,” Owen yelled suddenly. “We have to remember the light.” He held the circlet aloft so all the children could see the faint gleam.
The voices in his head lessened.
Owen concentrated on the stone; he remembered the silvery light in the Place Beyond Morning and his first sight of Ava, the magnificent half-woman, half-bird, whose magic encased and shimmered around her.
The despair in his heart eased as the stone shone.
“Keep the light in your heart,” he called, though his voice trembled with the effort.
Holly’s hand squeezed his. “It’s a test, isn’t it?” she whispered. “We have to be strong and believe in ourselves.”
“I think so,” Owen whispered back.
Holly made herself stand up straight and mentally look the older girls in the eye. Stop laughing, she told them. It’s wrong to try to destroy people’s confidence.
The laughter in her head faded and the light grew.
Owen half turned so the light fell behind him on Adam and Chantel. They were huddled together on the floor, Adam’s arms over Chantel’s body.
Owen held the circlet over them. “The light,” he called. “Remember the light.”
Adam struggled to surface through thoughts as thick and black as treacle. He grasped Chantel’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “It’s not our fault,” he said. The light around him grew. He shook Chantel gently. “See them. Tell them. Say it with me. ‘It’s not our fault.’”
“It’s not our fault,” repeated Chantel dully. She opened tear-drenched eyes and saw the light growing around them. “Don’t be mad at us, Mom,” she whimpered. “We’re just kids.”
Adam threw back his head and roared at the top of his lungs, “MOM, DAD, DON’T YOU GET IT? IT’S NOT OUR FAULT!”
Dance of the Stones Page 13
