Behind the Sorcerer's Cloak

by Andrea Spalding

Holly saved her breath and concentrated on the uneven steps. She scrambled the last few meters on hands and feet, and stood panting on the cliff top, looking with relief at the narrow fringe of grass that ran between the castle walls and the cliff edge. “We’ve made it,” she said. “Come on.” She held her hand over the edge to Owen. He stretched and grabbed. She heaved.

  Owen emerged and rolled on his back on the grass to recover.

  “That was some climb,” he said when he could breath again. He stood and stared down into the mist, venting his feeling by kicking a loose stone over the edge. It seemed ages before it clattered on the hidden beach below. Owen grinned wryly. “At least the fog concealed the drop.”

  AARCK, AARCK.

  The raven swooped overhead and flew to the top of the gatehouse.

  “Follow that bird,” said Holly.

  Owen raised a cupped hand to his mouth. “Aarck, Aarck…We’re coming. We’re coming,” he croaked.

  “Shhh,” said Holly. “Don’t alert the Shades.”

  Quaking in his shoes, Adam stood before the Dark Being. He wished he hadn’t taken this route, but it was too late now. He’d convinced Doona that he was her man.

  She summoned a Shadow. It appeared obediently and drifted to his side.

  The Dark Being smiled down at them both. “You please me, Adam, the courageous. You will be a fine helper, so I send you back to Gaia with a tool. I hear that Gaia possesses only simple magic. My Shades have a skill humans do not. They can send mind messages a great distance.”

  Adam’s eyes flickered. He dropped them quickly.

  “As I need information, and you cannot mindspeak, I attach this Shade to you. To humans it will look like your shadow. It will not interfere with your actions in any way. Its only job is to listen and report back to me.”

  “It will tell you everything I say?” asked Adam. His voice wobbled.

  “Is that a problem?” The Dark Being’s question had a steely edge.

  “Not really,” said Adam. “But I might have to play along to get Owen and Holly on my side.” He gave a small grin. “You won’t get mad, will you?”

  The Dark Being brushed aside his concern. “Of course not. The Shade will not repeat conversations, just content. It knows what information I need.”

  “Will it…will it make me do things I don’t want to do?”

  “No.” The Dark being chuckled. “Don’t be fearful, Adam, the courageous. I give you a tool. I have forbidden the Shade to meld with you. It will not control you. You are free to help me in your own way.”

  Adam tried not to shudder. “Thank you,” he managed.

  “Adam, you understand who I am and how badly I’ve been treated?”

  Adam forced himself to meet her eyes again. “Yes, of course, Doona.”

  “Then I have a gift as well as a tool for you. I always reward my helpers. Give me your hand.”

  Adam lifted his left hand.

  Doona’s touch was cool as she slipped onto his finger a thin gold ring with a tiny black stone sunk into the band.

  He spread his fingers as if he were admiring it. “Real gold, wow, thank you.” He forced a smile through tight lips.

  Doona laughed and touched his cheek. Her other hand touched the grayness of the Shade. Her eyes closed and reopened. “It is done.”

  Adam had felt nothing, but the Shade was no longer beside him. He looked down. A darker patch lay in the grayness at his feet. He took a few steps. It followed. Not quite a real shadow, but not strange enough that anyone would notice.

  He felt nausea rising, but he swallowed and forced himself to smile again. “You’re very clever,” he said.

  The Shades on Gaia were on high alert. They circled above the magic web that protected Pheric’s Isle, glaring at Manannan’s gulls that slipped back and forth at will.

  The Shades studied the gulls’ movements, hoping to unlock their magic. They had tried to meld with the birds, but the gulls could sense them and were too wily to be caught.

  Angrily the Shades stared down through drifts of mist.

  “Children, children, children approaching. Nassty human children,” hissed one.

  “I ssensse magic, sso much magic,” said another.

  “Tell the Dark One, we musst, we musst,” said the third Shade.

  Their heads nodding and bobbing in agreement, they gathered together.

  “Sslide, sslide, sslide into one.

  Thicken the darkness.

  Sstrengthen the bondss.”

  Their shadows merged into one shadow, and a strong mind message fought its way through the Mists of Time and sped to the Dark Being.

  “There’s Mr. Cubbon. What’s wrong with him?” Owen ran to the bench seat by the castle gatehouse and placed his hand on the shoulder of the slumped fisherman. “Are you all right, sir?”

  Mr. Cubbon raised his head from his hands, a surprised look on his face. He smiled up at the boy and nodded.

  “Aye, aye. I’m fine now. Thought I had a touch of the flu. Must have walked it off.” He stood up and beamed at Holly and Owen. “Going to explore the castle are yer?”

  The children nodded, their eyes serious.

  The old man leaned forward. “I’d be careful if I were you. Strange things lurk on Pheric’s Isle,” he whispered. “Keep wits about you. Avoid the Moddy Dhoo and listen to the raven.”

  “We will,” Holly said. She flashed him a smile and turned to go.

  Mr. Cubbon pulled Owen aside. “I’ve news,” he hissed.

  Owen cocked his head as Mr. Cubbon bent to his ear.

  “The secret passage…I know where it goes.”

  Owen’s eyes sparkled. He caught his breath.

  Mr. Cubbon’s voice dropped even lower. “Under the estuary to a cave on Pheric’s Isle. But there’s a hidden part. Comes up in the round tower. The raven told me. Watch yer step.”

  “Wow! Thanks, Mr. Cubbon,” Owen whispered. He patted the old man’s arm and followed Holly up the wide worn sandstone stairs through the gatehouse to the ticket booth.

  Myrddin materialized on Barrule’s summit within the horsehoe wall of rocks.

  The mountain fell steeply away on all sides, but there was no view. Everything below was blanketed with clouds. Only Barrule’s bleak peak poked through, along with several other mountains to the north.

  The sun shone, but the air was cold. Myrddin’s hair and cloak streamed and flapped as a strong gust of wind buffeted him. He staggered for a moment and stumbled on a patch of loose scree.

  He spotted Manannan and Equus lower down the slope, within the shelter of one of the great ditches.

  Manannan was watching for him and raised an arm in greeting. His upturned face reflected obvious relief at Myrddin’s arrival.

  Myrddin raised his staff and strode down to join them.

  The children prevailed. You are whole again. Equus’s mindspeak met him, filled with gladness.

  I have my staff. I am whole again. Myrddin’s answer was equally heartfelt. But what has happened to Ava?

  She challenged the vortex to let a speck of light into the Dark Being’s presence. The edge of the Dark touched her. It consumes her. She’s on my back. She needs pure light. Manannan has tried to heal her within a stone circle here on Mann. The light was not strong enough.

  Myrddin jumped into the ditch and bowed low to Manannan.

  “Greetings, my friend. Forgive our invasion of your island and our bringing of the Darkness.”

  “The Darkness came of its own accord,” countered Manannan, bowing equally low. “You bring Light and are thrice welcome. How may I help you further?”

  Myrddin gestured to Ava. “We need magic stronger than Earth Magic. Ava is helpless until she bathes in light streaming directly from the Place Beyond Morning. We need an Old Magic circle that is also protected and fortified.”

  “Then you must enter the magic realm in my care. We will reactivate the top of what the humans call the ‘Round Tower’ on Pheric’s Isle. Though unused for aeons,
the Tower is the heart of Gaia’s magic, a raised and fortified circle forming a beacon to the stars. It is sheltered by an enchanted castle, encircled by the realm of water. Entities of earth support it, and it is protected from above by an invisible web of magic.”

  “Then grant us leave to enter your magic realm, Manannan.”

  “Leave is granted, Myrddin,” replied Manannan formally. “But know the beacon will be seen throughout the universe.”

  “There is no other way to heal Ava.”

  “So be it.” Manannan blew. A great wind swirled, lifted all four beings and swept them away.

  Their message dispatched to the Dark Being, the Shades hovered again above the protective web over Pheric’s Isle.

  One cried out in frustration. “Ssee insside, insside. The children come. Ssee, ssee!”

  The blowing mist only allowed short glimpses of Holly and Owen in the castle ruins.

  “Sspy, sspy by melding we will,” chanted two Shades and swooped down again toward the unsuspecting Mr. Cubbon as he made his way back across the causeway.

  “Sstoronger, sstronger. Together thiss time, meld, meld, meld,” the Shades encouraged each other. They landed on the old fisherman’s back, a dark stain on his sweater that quickly faded.

  Mr. Cubbon staggered, then straightened. He turned and marched back to Pheric’s Isle, his face once again contorted with rage.

  “You’re a keen pair of visitors,” said the ticket woman, laughing as she took the castle entrance fee from Holly and Owen. “Fancy sightseeing in this fog. We didn’t expect a soul this afternoon. It will be just you, me and the archaeologists.”

  “Archaeologists?” Holly echoed.

  The woman nodded. “They’re excavating a grave on the far side of the ruined cathedral. It’s so exciting. I keep sneaking out to look. They’ve found bones and some grave goods. Ask them to show you the beautiful beads.”

  Holly gave a tiny gasp.

  “You can’t miss the dig, even in the mist,” continued the woman. She thrust a map of the castle at Holly. “You’re here, see?” She pointed with her finger to the map, then looked up and gestured with her arm. “Just bear to the right at the top of the steps and follow the walk. You’ll get there.”

  “Er, could I have a map too, please?” asked Owen. “Just in case we get separated.”

  “Of course,” said the woman. She passed one over.

  “Who needs a map?” Holly whispered as they walked toward the steps.

  The raven had fluttered down and was stepping deliberately before them, occasionally turning its black head to check that they were following.

  Holly and Owen made their way through a strange and eerie world.

  The castle walls loomed high, enclosing them, screening them from the outside. The mist restricted vision and made the ruins into an endless maze.

  Owen nudged Holly as they passed a battery of ancient cannons pointing through narrow slits, but the raven didn’t pause. It led them through arches opening onto roofless rooms, past billows of mist gathering in hollows formed by caved-in buildings, up steps at the base of crumbling walls and over a lawn to a grassy rise.

  The mist deadened sound.

  No wind reached them, no voices, no hissing of waves or cries from the gulls. It was as though the world held its breath.

  Holly’s shoes squeaked on the damp grass.

  “Shhh,” hissed Owen, then wondered why.

  Ahead, shadowy figures stirred in the mist, and a sudden burst of laughter broke the spell. The raven soared to a perch on the nearest wall.

  The children leaned over a rope barrier and looked down. Owen felt Holly stiffen. Several people squatted around a shallow excavation. Rock slabs, marked with fluttering tabs were stacked on one side of the dig. A heap of white quartz stones lay on the other. Between them lay the outline of a rocky grave containing the remains of a small, fragile skeleton.

  Holly began to tremble. “Breesha,” she murmured. A tear welled up and trickled unnoticed down her cheek. Whatever she’d imagined in finding the grave, it wasn’t this. Earth Magic was full of surprises.

  Owen watched with interest as a young woman with a soft brush cleaned a half buried leg bone.

  A man scraped dirt, a bit at a time, from between an arm bone and a rib. He placed the dirt in a bucket.

  A second man paced around taking close-up photos.

  An older woman sifted the buckets of soil painstakingly, stopping to pick out a small object with a pair of tweezers. “Found another bead,” she sang out. She held it up between the tweezers’ tips, and gently blew dust away. “Blue glass, by the looks of things.”

  Holly reached out to Owen, grabbed his hand and squeezed hard.

  Owen squeezed back.

  A man appeared. The woman dropped the bead into his palm. He disappeared into a makeshift hut beyond the dig.

  “Hello, we’ve got visitors.” The woman brushing the leg bone had stopped to stretch. She waved. “Come to admire the Pagan Lady?” she asked.

  Holly gulped and nodded, glad the mist obscured her teary eyes.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” The woman patted the leg bone. “We think she must have been someone really important. She’s nearly a thousand years old and was buried with some amazing grave goods. It you walk around to the hut, Mitch will give you a peek at the necklace she was wearing. It’s wonderful. We’ve found sixty-nine beads and are still finding more.”

  Shaken and speechless, the two children made their way beyond the grave to the hut.

  Mr. Cubbon clambered up the steps to the gatehouse and bullied his way into the castle, dismissing the ticket person with a brusque, “Don’t be silly, woman. Why should I pay for a tour around the castle? I only need to find them dratted kids.”

  Taken aback, the woman bridled. “No need to be rude, Mr. Cubbon. They’re doing no harm. They went to the dig.”

  Mr. Cubbon pushed past her.

  Breesha’s beads lay in a tray on a makeshift table. A bright lamp shone down on them.

  The man called Mitch hovered over them, the newly discovered bead between his finger and thumb. With a swift movement, his hand darted down and placed the blue glass between two like-sized beads, one red, one amber.

  Holly gave a tiny sigh and an almost invisible shake of her head.

  “Isn’t this an incredible find?” The man turned to the children, bubbling with enthusiasm. “We think this beautiful necklace means our grave belongs to a woman of some stature. The wife of a chief. Or maybe the Manx wife of a Viking explorer who brought beads back to her from each trip.”

  He strode to the doorway of the hut and pointed beyond the walls, to where the sea would be seen if the mist lifted. “Imagine the scene: The explorer sails away on a Viking longboat and is gone for months, maybe years. Suddenly his sails are spotted. The women and children run down to the shore to meet him and his crew.” Mitch took Holly’s arm and led her back to the table. He picked up a large amber disk. “The explorer sweeps the woman into his arms and presses into her palm a fabulous bead from a strange new land.” He pressed the disk into Holly’s hand. “Trip by trip, the necklace grows longer and more spectacular. Trip by trip, her status grows.” He grinned down at the children.

  Holly held the amber and stared up at him. Her fingers itched and tingled with magic. The black bead in her pocket grew hot against her leg. “What if she was the visitor and turned up on the island with the beads already around her neck, and everyone thought it was a magical necklace?” she said seriously.

  Mitch laughed and retrieved the disk. “Good thinking, but unlikely. Women didn’t explore. Much more likely to be my scenario.” He paused. “People might attribute magical powers to the unusual beads though…interesting idea.” He laughed and replaced the disk on the tray. The children’s eyes followed it.

  “We’ll never know. Archaeology is based on facts. The facts are that we have found a non-Christian woman—a pagan lady—buried with unusual care and a variety of grave goods, i
ncluding the remains of this fabulous necklace. The rest is just my imagination.” He looked down at the beads. “We’re even guessing the order the beads were strung in. Fascinating, isn’t it?” He smiled at the children.

  The jet bead in Holly’s pocket irritated and itched. Holly tried not to touch it, but she felt as though the bump was so obvious the man must be able to see it. Her mind raced. How could they distract him and drop the bead into the tray.

  A woman’s voice called out. “Found another bead.”

  Mitch rushed out of the hut.

  Swiftly Holly pulled the black bead from her pocket and held it over the tray.

  A voice she knew growled. “You’re stealing! You rotten kids, I knew something were up. You’re pinching beads!”

  Shocked, Holly swung round.

  Mr. Cubbon stood in the doorway, his face no longer friendly but contorted with hatred. He pointed an accusing finger. A wave of malevolence, so strong it was almost physical, swept over them.

  Dropping the bead in the tray, Holly pushed past the old man and fled into the mist.

  Owen followed.

  “Stop ’em. They’re stealing beads,” shouted Mr. Cubbon.

  A gigantic hue and cry rose from the dig as the workers dropped tools and gave chase.

  Most of the Shades were riveted, watching events unfold in the castle below. But one still watched the gulls slipping so easily back and forth through the magical mesh.

  Time and time again it tried to meld with a gull. Time and time again it failed. At last its careful observation paid off.

  “Ssee, ssee,” the Shade cried. “The birds eat fissh. Watch, watch.” It left the other Shades to slide into the sea where gulls dove through the waves and feasted on a school of herring.

  “Fissh, fissh, meld with the fissh,” called the Shade. It melded with the nearest herring.

  A greedy gull gulped. The herring vanished.

  The bird soared up, passed through the web of magic and landed on a wall on Pheric’s Isle.

  “Ssee, ssee, ssee,” squawked the gull. “Copy me, copy me, copy me!”

  With soundless cries of triumph, the Shades descended to the surface of the sea and melded with fish.