by Kit Berry
This special stone was a column of white, sparkling rock, many metres high, standing inside the far end of the quarry like a great chimney. It stood apart from the high cliff face, and the dangerous chasm between them was a precarious mess of jagged, smashed rock and great unstable chunks of stone debris. The top of this giant pillar of stone had been flattened into a platform but it was difficult, though not impossible, to go directly from the hill to the platform, even though they were of similar heights. The best and slightly safer way to reach the top of the Snake Stone was by travelling through the quarry itself and then climbing a steep and treacherous path upwards, over tumbled rocks and boulders which formed rough steps, to the summit.
Rising from its bed of jumbled stone like a fist thrusting up from the grave, the Snake Stone was no natural phenomenon. It had been hewn into its smooth pillar shape and snakes were carved all over it, massive coiling serpents that writhed and twisted themselves up the sides of the rock to the very top. The entire column was formed of the same glittering stone as the disc of rock at Mooncliffe, and it was where Magus had sourced the stone for his eggs.
As Yul came closer to the quarry face at the end, he gazed upwards and shuddered. If Quarrycleave was a natural temple of death, the Snake Stone was the altar. And it was on this altar, so very different to the one in the Stone Circle where he received his Earth Magic, that Yul felt he should confront Magus. Somehow that felt right; all he had guiding him tonight was his instinct. In the rapidly fading light he began to climb the winding path leading up over the boulders towards the summit. It was a sharp and dangerous climb but at last he reached the platform on top of the pillar of Snake Stone and he stood there, still and silent, surveying the darkening scene below.
The quarry was a vast stone-scape of shadows far below him. The pathways between the rocks were channels of blackness and anything could be lurking down there in the maze of stone. Yul felt the menacing atmosphere pressing on his soul and recalled the awful compulsion he’d succumbed to last summer when he’d wanted to sacrifice his life to feed the maw. He’d only been prevented from suicide by Sylvie and the two creatures summoned to save him. Tonight, once again, he experienced that growing dread, that same feeling of pain, terror and death, although this time he had everything to live for.
Yul sensed something of the ritual slaughter performed in this hollow place over the ages. But he knew nothing of the remains of many bodies concealed beneath him; the bones, skulls and sad fragments of things once held precious by the ancestors of Stonewylde. He knew nothing of the past sacrifices of blood and flesh, the torture and murders committed in the name of appeasement and supplication to ancient gods, out of greed and man’s eternal lust for power. Quarrycleave was where the darkest and most dangerous aspects of Stonewylde were focused, and a fitting arena for the fulfilment of the prophecy which had overshadowed his whole life. Yul knew the quarry was the Place of Bones and Death, the place where tonight he must face his father for the final time.
The Land Rover bumped up the track to the quarry, pot-holed and gullied by years of winter rains and neglect. His two passengers held on tightly as they bounced in their seats. Magus drove like the devil, swerving violently to avoid the worst potholes but never slowing his breakneck pace. His face was grim and he swore softly under his breath, a continuous stream of invective against Yul, the boy who threatened his very existence as Magus of Stonewylde. He’d counted on feeding on Sylvie’s moon magic at Mooncliffe tonight, for strong and fit though he was, without that special energy he was no more than an ordinary man. Magus thought again what a good job it was that he had two of Jackdaw’s brutish mates at his side. He’d noted the sunset with glee; finally the binding spell was broken and he was free to rid himself of the brat.
He seethed at Yul’s duplicity and greed, knowing how much power the boy had literally at his fingertips. Only yesterday Magus had seen him glow with it, the energy crackling around him. How could he be so greedy as to want the moon magic as well? Magus cursed him again, and that ungrateful little bitch. He’d laid his heart open to her, offered her the world, yet she’d only willingly share her gift with his bastard son who didn’t even need it. When he got hold of them tonight, nothing would stop him exacting his revenge. With the two thugs to help, he’d kill the boy slowly. And then he’d turn his attention to Sylvie and her punishment. He wasn’t sure which he looked forward to the most.
As they reached the field at the foot of the hill, Sylvie broke free from Clip’s grasp. She ran through the cold grass and around the boulders, up towards the dark stone silhouetted against the pale blue sky at the top. The sun was gone; a peachy glow marked its point of departure and a single bright star twinkled in the clear sky. The temperature was dropping rapidly as Sylvie raced up the hill, followed more slowly by her long-legged father.
She paused when she reached a small fire smouldering in the half-light and Clip caught up, staring down at the remains of Violet’s handiwork. Sylvie turned unseeing eyes to him, cocking her head as if listening to something.
Something bad here, something not right. Where are my hares to honour the Bright Lady? My feet are heavy and all is wrong.
Harold slid one of the keys dangling from the heavy iron ring into the lock, turning it slowly. He really didn’t want to be here but had the strangest feeling that something was amiss. He’d been racing around the Hall, empty of Hallfolk and servants, trying to locate the source of his foreboding. He’d hoped to discover what was wrong before he came to Magus’ apartments; creeping into these private chambers was petrifying, even though Magus had been sighted going off in the Land Rover earlier. It was Sylvie that Harold was really concerned about, and whether she’d been safely spirited away. Pushing the great door open a little, he tiptoed into the huge, darkening room, terrified of what he might find. But all seemed silent and still and Sylvie was nowhere in sight. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Harold stepped forward into the shadows.
A strange noise halted him and he froze in terror, every hair on his body bristling. Something was stirring in the corner; a long dark shape that sighed and moaned. Harold’s mouth clamped shut over his dry tongue and his eyes darted wildly about. What dark magic was this? What terrible creature was lurking in Magus’ rooms? He knew where the light switch was and twisted to find it, his hand scrabbling in the darkness that deepened by the second. In his fear he couldn’t locate the switch and a sob escaped him.
He sensed movement in the shadows and just as his fingers found the switch, something grabbed hold of his ankle like the jaws of a trap. Harold screamed as the light burst on. And there, latched onto his leg, lay Martin. Spread full length on the floor and pale as death, the man looked up at the boy, his face twisted and strange. Harold saw the great purple swelling on his temple and the way his mouth was working, eyes rolling up into his skull at the effort of moving and trying to speak.
‘Martin! What happened?’ Harold cried in alarm. ‘Oh … your head!’
‘We must stop them! We must find the moongazy girl and take her to Mooncliffe to the master.’
Martin’s speech was horribly slurred and Harold tried to shake him off but Martin’s grip was solid. The tall man began to pull himself to his feet and Harold nearly lost his balance.
‘Help me, boy! The girl must be captured – the master’s waiting for her and everything depends on this.’
Harold hesitated, a lifetime of training and obedience battling with his desire to help Yul. Martin had struggled to all fours and started to push himself up into a standing position. Staggering, he grabbed Harold’s shoulder, almost pulling him down.
‘No! I won’t help you. Sylvie can’t go to Magus. She’s with Yul—’
‘So – another viper in the nest!’ Martin hissed, reeling alarmingly and fixing his bloodshot eyes on the boy. He made a lunge for Harold who leapt backwards trying to avoid the long grasp. The keys jangled and Harold realised what he must do.
He flicked the light switch so the room was plunged
once more into shadows, flung the heavy door open and escaped into the dark corridor outside, slamming it shut behind him. Fumbling desperately, he tried to get the key into the lock. He could hear Martin bellowing with rage on the other side, crashing into something as he tried to reach the door in time. Harold’s hands shook violently as he managed to slide the key in the lock, exactly at the moment he saw the handle begin to turn. With a cry he twisted the key and felt it catch, the handle rattling uselessly from the other side.
Sobbing with relief, he crumpled against the door jamb.
‘I’m sorry, sir! I can’t let you help Magus. He’s turned bad and we must help Yul now. Yul’s the one to lead us.’
From the other side of the door he heard Martin’s wave of vitriol as the man pounded on the heavy wood.
‘You’ll suffer for this! You’ll be whipped, Harold! Yul will never lead us and you’ll rue the day you turned against our master!’
Then, chillingly, all went quiet. Harold listened intently, heart thudding, wondering if Martin had collapsed again. It took him a moment to realise why and, with another cry, he yanked the key from the lock and ran down the corridor to the next door. Martin mustn’t escape to aid Magus.
He raced down the shadowy corridor and checked each door leading out from Magus’ long suite of chambers. Martin, doing the same inside the rooms, was much slower, having to negotiate furniture and staggering from his head injury. One by one Harold tried the doors and found each one locked – until he came to the last one, Sylvie’s room. This was where she and Clip had made their escape. As Harold ran down the almost black corridor he could see it stood ajar where Magus had flung it open in his fury at discovering Sylvie gone.
Harold shook so much he dropped the heavy ring of keys. Snatching them up again in panic, he couldn’t find the keyhole. His heart pounded as he tried to shove the old iron key into the lock. It was the wrong one, and frantically he tried another and then another. Martin came crashing through the room just as Harold wrestled the right key into place and locked the door. The tirade of abuse that poured from Martin’s lips was shocking, and even with the solid door between them Harold backed off quickly, not wanting to hear any more of the dreadful fate which now awaited him. Martin’s mother was a force to be reckoned with and not known for her good magic.
Rosie held her mother protectively as they made their way back up the Long Walk, cloaks wrapped tightly against the chill December night. Maizie’s steps were slow and she stumbled; every so often a sob burst from her.
‘Come now, Mother, ‘twill be alright. Yul will do it – we must have faith.’
‘Sixteen years I’ve waited for this terrible night,’ cried Maizie. ‘Sixteen years of standing by and watching my boy being cruelly treated at every turn. And now ‘tis almost over.’
‘’Tis not over, Mother! You wait – our Yul will win.’
‘And his lovely new robes I made him, with his own Green Man sewn all over – my poor boy will never wear them, never reach adulthood. All thanks to that meddling old biddy!’
‘Don’t talk like this, Mother – Yul needs all the folk behind him, including you. You’ll see – he’ll beat Magus tonight, and then tomorrow—’
Another woman came up behind them, heavily pregnant and stumbling in her haste to reach them. She shoved Rosie hard in the back almost knocking her over, and the girl spun round in surprise.
‘No he will not! Don’t you dare speak o’ such a thing! Magus is our master and always will be.’
Maizie and her daughter glared at the young woman, squaring up for a confrontation.
‘Not after tonight he won’t!’ said Maizie, her lip curled. ‘That man is finished and ‘tis my boy that’ll do the deed. Your child will be fatherless, Rowan, and best thing for it.’
‘No!’ the laundry maid screamed, trying to claw at Maizie’s face. ‘Magus will always rule here and he’ll love our child!’
‘He’s no better at loving his children than he is at loving his women,’ spat Maizie. ‘And I should know! He’s spent my son’s life trying to destroy him and that man deserves what’s a-coming to him tonight. Yul is worth ten o’ him and all the folk think so too. You’ll have to change your tune tomorrow, my girl, when Yul becomes our new magus!’
Up high on the hill, three women huddled around the great standing stone, their hands joined to form an unholy circle. They shuffled widdershins, chanting an incantation to the darkening sky. They’d marked a rough outline on the ground around them, and placed objects at various spots on it – strange and sinister things that had no place at such a sacred site.
Violet broke off from her crooning and paused, listening.
‘The moongazy maiden is a-coming! Now, sisters, we must trap her in our circle and let the Dark Magic do its work afore the Frost Moon rises.’
‘Aye! The trap awaits and you was right, dear sister, all along. She escaped from Magus but she won’t get away from us three.’
‘Should we hide ourselves?’ asked Starling a little incongruously, as there was no cover other than the stone itself.
‘Aye, we shall become the land itself. Sink down, my dears. Crouch low as rocks.’
With an agility defying their size and creakiness the three women melted down, forming dark huddles on the ground under their cloaks. In the deepening twilight they’d became low boulders surrounding the tall Hare Stone. Three silent mounds waiting for their victim.
Siskin sat back in the deep oak settle, the noise of the Villagers in the Jack in the Green all around him as he sipped his glass of cider with closed eyes. He was perfectly happy. The couple of very elderly men, sitting in the pub by the warm fire, had fallen silent when he’d arrived a little earlier, driven down finally in a car. Siskin had been served a drink and then eyed suspiciously as he lowered himself onto a hard stool at a little table. When a great throng of noisy men had burst in soon after, the Stone Circle ceremony completed, they too had fallen quiet at the sight of him. The last thing the Village men wanted tonight was a member of the Hallfolk in the pub.
But Siskin suddenly had understood their hostility and anxiety, and had produced the photo of Yul from his bag. He’d held it up proudly, inviting all to see.
‘This is why I’ve come!’ he said excitedly. ‘To see this young man take his rightful place as our new magus, as our own Green Man. I’m on your side, chaps! Sylvie invited me here for the Solstice sunrise ceremony tomorrow. I can’t go up to the Hall yet because Magus doesn’t know I’ve returned. I’d be grateful if you’d let me spend the evening in here with you good folk, keeping out of the way while Yul does battle.’
This had earned him much hearty back-slapping and toasting, and the Village men were delighted to welcome him. They found the professor some food and settled him comfortably in a cosy corner by the fire with a fresh glass of cider. Siskin was happier than he’d been in years, and increasingly excited about the sunrise ceremony in the morning.
Unseen, Greenbough and the woodsmen stepped silently from the wood, their axes and staves in hand. They’d waited for Sylvie and Clip to pass by on their way to the top of Hare Stone and now they could take their places around the hill, forming a ring of protection for the magical girl in her scarlet cloak. Should anyone arrive and attempt to abduct her or disturb her moondancing, the woodsmen would intervene and keep her safe.
‘What if Magus comes though?’ muttered a burly man. ‘I’m a-willing to do my bit to help, but I don’t know as I could fell the master hisself.’
‘’Tis unlikely, ain’t it? Our Yul’s the one to rise up against Magus, like the prophecy foretold. I tip my hat to that young man, I really do!’
‘Aye, I ain’t scared of aught, but I’d never do it. He’s a brave lad and no mistake.’
‘Stop your chit-chat and keep quiet,’ growled Greenbough. ‘We’ll climb up the hill a bit and make sure the maiden is alright. Master Clip said we must protect her and ‘tis a vital job we got here. Miss Sylvie is Yul’s sweetheart, and he needs us
to take care o’ her while he takes on Magus tonight. Hush now, and follow me.’
At his feet, Yul could just make out the six stolen moon eggs that Edward had brought up earlier. They nestled snugly in cup-like hollows on the platform of the Snake Stone. The top of the stone was encircled with several such hollows and Yul believed they’d once all held similar stone eggs, for the size and shape was too close for coincidence. He’d heard how Magus loved to come here as a youngster – perhaps those empty sockets had inspired him with the idea to make moon eggs. Yul remembered Tom up on Dragon’s Back, driving the cart back from Quarrycleave all those months ago, and Sylvie’s reaction when she’d touched the sparkling white chunks of stone.
The hollows looked very old, as if they’d been carved out a long, long time ago. Maybe there’d always been a moongazy girl at Stonewylde, who could be forced to charge the rock here and at Mooncliffe with her powerful moon magic. Maybe there’d always been a magus who received the Earth Magic from the Stone Circle, but stole the girl’s magic when his own was gone. Perhaps there was eternal conflict; patterns and stories that came and went, repeated endlessly in the circle of time.
Yul didn’t know and didn’t care. All he hoped was that Sylvie was safely at Hare Stone within her ring of protection, and that Magus would soon be here to meet his son, and his destiny.
It was dark and shadowy in the cottage on the hill. The light was almost gone from the sky and the longest night of the year was about to begin. The Frost Moon had not yet risen as Mother Heggy sat, silent and still, in the centre of her circle. The fire crackled in the hearth sending crazy shadows chasing around the ancient walls. The Wise Woman’s home had seen many a drama over its long years, but tonight was something special.
