Solstice at Stonewylde

by Kit Berry

  ‘That won’t happen.’

  ‘You’re not in a position to argue. Which cave is she in? Show me, boy!’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Where is she? You will tell me!’

  He jabbed the knife again into Yul’s side and this time the pain was very sharp. Yul felt a hot wetness inside his shirt which terrified him – he couldn’t die now, not like this.

  He looked around desperately. They were right at the head of the quarry, near the bed of jumbled rock that surrounded the base of the Snake Stone. Massive boulders and huge chunks of stone surrounded them, blasted long ago from the hillside itself, eating into the green land that rose much higher above. The moonlight penetrated this more open area, silvering the rock and creating deep pools of blackness in the recesses. Yul heard another strange noise, a kind of sigh, and felt something evil stirring in the black depths of the maze behind them. His hackles rose.

  But then ahead, over to one side, he suddenly noticed a raven, huge and dark, strutting along a rock. It seemed to have materialised from out of nowhere and he started and stiffened, wincing with the pain in his side. Magus sensed this, loosening his grip as he swung round to see what had caught the boy’s attention. With a rapid twist Yul yanked his arm free and leapt onto a rock, scrambling upwards as fast as injury allowed. Magus followed rapidly but Yul turned and kicked him full in the face. Blood sprayed onto the white stone, shockingly dark. Magus roared and fell back, trying to stem the flow, and Yul seized his advantage.

  He leaped up the rocks like someone possessed, fear giving him strength and speed. He slipped many times, each time regaining his balance and climbing upwards. The pain in his side from the double puncture wounds became stronger and he knew he bled badly. He could hear Magus below, giving chase but far less agile than him, and gradually losing ground. At last Yul reached the place where the boulders formed a rocky path up to the top of the Snake Stone. He saw the great raven above him and knew he’d been guided here – he must go back up to the very top, on the platform of rock. His instinct had been to hide and dodge, but now, to be magus, he must flush out his hunter and confront him in the open. It was time.

  Magus paused, panting for breath, on a boulder below the Snake Stone. He wiped the blood from his face again and could see Yul clearly up above. The figure stood tall on the stone, his head thrown back, face washed in moonlight. His dark hair hung down to his shoulders and the bright moonlight chiselled his face into strong planes and deep hollows. Magus realised with a shock that he was looking no longer at a boy but at a man – a man who seemed to glow in the moonlight. For the first time, Magus felt a genuine tingle of fear. Yul pulsed with power and strength. He stood with his legs apart and his face turned to the moon. And despite everything, despite his injuries, he wasn’t scared; he wanted this confrontation.

  Magus could just make out Sylvie standing behind him. The moonlight shone full onto Yul and in comparison she was faint and shadowy. Magus saw her wild silver hair and her white skin, her thin arms and legs bare in the cold winter’s night. He felt a shiver of excitement at the sight of her, his moongazy girl. And she belonged to him – not that upstart son of his. He clambered up the last rocks, breathing heavily with exertion despite his fitness.

  By the time Magus reached the top of the Snake Stone, Yul stood there alone. Magus climbed onto the platform and the two men faced each other, almost the same height. They could see each other clearly in the moonlight which shone as brightly as the sun, but silver not gold. Glittering black eyes locked into smouldering grey ones.

  ‘Boys and girls come out to play! Where’s she gone?’

  ‘Sylvie’s not here – she’s at Hare Stone.’

  ‘Of course she’s here. You said she was.’

  ‘I lied. I’d never put Sylvie in danger.’

  ‘Yes, you are a liar! I saw her here, right next to you, just now. I know you’re planning to take her moon magic, but it belongs to me! You have no right to—’

  ‘I don’t need her magic – I have my own.’

  Yul held out a hand, identical to Magus’, and they both saw the tiny sparks coursing from his square finger-tips. Yul reached out to touch him but Magus stepped back, drawing his knife again. He teetered at the edge of the platform and his eyes rolled in alarm, but then his foot brushed something and he looked down.

  ‘My moon eggs!’ he cried, bending and picking one up. ‘I knew you’d stolen them!’

  He closed his eyes as the energy coursed through him, quicksilver in his veins. Nothing came close to this ecstasy, this pulsing explosion of power that filled him with silver magic. He smiled and opened his eyes to glare at Yul, the icy venom strengthening his bloodlust. Sylvie had returned and once again stood in Yul’s shadow, staring at Magus with moon-filled eyes. He raised his hand clenched around the heavy stone egg and showed her.

  ‘See? I got my eggs back after all and it was pointless trying to fight me, Sylvie. I always win in the end. And now I have my magic back and you’ll both suffer. Yul will die slowly. But for you, Sylvie, death will be an impossible dream.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Yul. ‘You’re mad!’

  ‘Get out of my way! Sylvie’s mine – move aside, boy!’

  He brandished the knife at Yul, the blade glinting in the moonlight.

  ‘You’re imagining things – Sylvie isn’t here,’ said Yul firmly. ‘You and I are here to resolve this conflict, as the prophecy predicted at my birth. I’ve risen up against you and I have the folk behind me – nearly all the Villagers, and even a few Hallfolk, want me to replace you as magus. You’ve had your day and you’re finished. I’m overthrowing you but I’m giving you a choice. I’ve no wish to kill you although believe me, I will if I have to. So you choose – exile or death. Which is it to be?

  Magus laughed, the sounds bouncing around the stone arena and echoing back in manic amplification.

  ‘Yul, my son, I will never leave Stonewylde. Nor will I ever concede to you. Why on earth would I? I’ll fight you to the death, for Sylvie and for Stonewylde.’

  He stood, tall and magnificent, on the platform of stone, a moon egg in one hand and the long hunting knife in the other. His blond hair gleamed silver and his eyes flashed like pools of blackness.

  ‘I am Stonewylde and Stonewylde is me! My life is here in this place where I was born, this place that I love. I’ve given my life to Stonewylde and she loves me. You can never win, Yul.’

  Yul looked at his father in the moonlight, looked deep into those dark eyes which shone with tiny reflected moons. All his life he’d feared this man, and for much of his life he’d hated this man. And yet, looking at that face, so familiar and hated, he suddenly saw himself. He saw someone else who’d fought back at the world and never given in; someone else who’d stop at nothing to protect and nurture Stonewylde, this beautiful magical woman of the landscape. And Sylvie was the essence of Stonewylde, part of the same magic. No wonder Magus wanted her as well.

  In that instant, Yul saw Magus and recognised himself as a man. And he recalled Sylvie begging him to promise he wouldn’t kill Magus. Suddenly he knew that despite everything, he couldn’t commit murder.

  ‘Magus, you’re my father and … maybe the time has come for us to put this hatred aside? Forget about the prophecy – I don’t want to kill you and I understand you can’t give up Stonewylde. Can we talk about this?’

  He felt the terrible creature stirring below in the darkness, craving and howling for more blood. But it could still be cheated!

  ‘Yesterday you spoke of a partnership,’ Yul continued, ‘of you and I leading Stonewylde together. That’s the answer! If we could—’

  ‘No!’ cried Magus. ‘I’ll never share with you! You’re dead, Yul, and Sylvie’s mine.’

  The knife’s long, vicious blade caught the moonlight, creating a moonbeam of silver, as Magus suddenly lunged forward aiming for his son’s heart. Yul sidestepped quickly and behind him Sylvie laughed, shaking her head, taunting him. S
he dared to defy him, thinking Yul would protect her. With a growl of anger he swung really hard at Yul with the stone egg in his other hand, trying to smash his son’s skull. Yul stumbled as once again he dodged the blow, grabbing Magus’ arm to right himself. As he touched him, the Earth Magic blazed in a great electric charge and a bolt of pure energy hit Magus, lighting him up like a torch. His silver hair stood out on end, his heart leapt in his chest and his eyeballs sizzled as if they’d explode with the heat and pain.

  Magus cried out in agony and staggered backwards, the heavy egg in his hand giving his movement momentum. He teetered as if frozen on the brink of the enormous stone. He gaped in horror, knowing that he’d fall, knowing in a flash of understanding that this was his childhood nightmare finally come to pass. He would lie in agony, alone and cold in the silver darkness, with a terrible pulsing in his head as the life-blood spurted out of him and the creeping blackness closed in.

  His terrified eyes met Sylvie’s and she threw back her head and laughed. He saw her small, pointy teeth and Magus knew he’d been wrong – this moongazy girl wasn’t Sylvie at all. And he realised, in that split second, that the Dark Angel comes in many guises and was here now to lead him from this stone to that cold, lonely haemorrhaging in the darkness.

  ‘Yul!’ he howled as he hung in the silver brightness, the name echoing again and again around the stone graveyard in the cold night. ‘Yul! Yul!’

  There was nothing to stop him from falling from this platform where so long ago a cruel and violent man had hurt a young, helpless girl, and in doing so had caused his conception. There was nothing to hold on to and save himself from death.

  Yul leapt forward across the stone and his hand shot out to save his father’ life. But it was too late; he caught nothing but thin air, where Magus had stood a second earlier. It was a long way down from the Snake Stone, at the head of the moonlit quarry. A long way down, still falling, to the jagged rocks that waited like sharp pointed teeth at the bottom.

  Blood had been spilled – the blood of three men, an appeasement to the dark evil that stalked this ancient arena of death and bloodlust. Three lives had been taken to satisfy the hunger that prowled the labyrinth in the Place of Bones and Death. And now the young magus stood on the ancient Snake Stone, the place of sacrifice, with a raven by his side. Her eyes and feathers glinted silver in the moonlight. The young man gazed out across the white moonscape of the quarry with a heavy heart and eyes full of tears; a strong and brave man had died here tonight.

  The stars twinkled in the cold midwinter air and frost dusted the land with sparkling glitter as the moon, clothed in silver, walked the night. The time of the Winter Solstice was approaching. The great Wheel of the Year turned, and the earth turned, and the centuries came around, and time almost stood still, like the sun in the sky at this point in the calendar. Time stood still, but the ancient patterns played themselves out. The ancient stories clamoured to be retold, again and again …

  Stonewylde had her new magus, the darkness had been satisfied and the dance could go on.

  As the fourth green light was suddenly extinguished, Mother Heggy peered at the mangled remains in her clawed hands. It was a tiny wax figure and bore a lock of soft, silver hair taken long ago from a child’s head. She nodded, knowing that the prophecy she’d given, all those years past, had been fulfilled.

  Under blue and red, the fruit of your passion

  Will rise up against you with the folk behind

  At the time of brightness in darkness,

  And will overthrow you

  In the place of bones and death.

  She cackled toothlessly and raised the goblet again, drinking deeply this time, toasting the new magus. She threw the tiny mommet out of her circle and into the blazing fire. It hissed and melted, the lock of blond hair sizzling and giving out a foul stench as it burnt.

  She gazed at the one green light still burning. Only one left – who could it be? If Magus was dead, Yul should now be safe. But Sylvie – what of her? Old Mother Heggy felt the cold clutch of fear around her heart in a sharp squeeze. Not her little bright one – she couldn’t bear to lose Sylvie. The girl was so precious, just as her Raven had been. So whose was the fifth death?

  There was a soft knock at the door, making her jump in her old, wrinkled skin. Who could be knocking on her door at this time, in the darkness, up here at the cottage on the hill? It couldn’t be Yul yet, for he was miles away. Perhaps some kind soul to check that she was alright? Maybe to see if she’d come to the sunrise ceremony after all? She shook her wizened head – it was warm in this room but she knew how cold it was outside, and she was far too old and feeble to risk exposure to the freezing night air.

  The knock came again, louder and more insistent – impatient almost.

  ‘Lift the latch and come in!’ she croaked, looking up.

  Her milky eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her unexpected visitor.

  ‘Oh, ‘tis you! Aye, right enough, ‘tis time. I should’ve known.’

  Moonlight silhouetted the robed, hooded figure standing tall and silent on the threshold, the darkness around him just a little blacker than it should be. She nodded – now she understood. With a sigh, Mother Heggy gazed deep into his fathomless eyes and then her head fell to her chest. The fifth green light faltered, flickered and died.

  Full Circle

  In the darkness before dawn, the folk of Stonewylde packed into the Stone Circle, their breath forming white clouds around their heads. The sun had not yet risen on the shortest day of the year, but the longest night was over. The great Solstice Bonfire stood at one edge of the circle, its boughs dusted with frost. A boy shivered up on the platform at the summit, by the brazier, waiting to herald the dawn. Below him the folk shifted restlessly with anticipation.

  The drummers played their rhythms softly and Clip chanted with quiet assurance at the Altar Stone. Tall and thin, he looked resplendent in white robes with a headdress of mistletoe and ivy on his wispy blond hair. His movements and voice were soothing but his grey eyes danced with excitement. As the sun approached the horizon the tension rose and the drumming picked up speed and insistency.

  People’s hearts beat faster, the drumbeats reverberating in their chests, and their heartbeats became as one, a great pulsing rhythm of sunrise and hope. The boy on the platform cried out and lit the flame. The brazier flared brightly and the people chanted, welcoming the return of the sun and the return of longer days. The boy climbed down the ladder inside the fire, clutching the torch he’d lit in the brazier. But every face was turned towards the Long Walk where two figures approached.

  Yul and Sylvie stepped into the Stone Circle hand in hand. He wore a golden Solstice robe and a great headdress of mistletoe, ivy and holly. The woven winter foliage seemed to sprout from his dark curls in a riot of greenery and berries and his beautiful face was solemn but joyful. Next to him Sylvie was tall and slender in dark green Yule robes. The evergreen material was embroidered with a pattern of leaves and the white mistletoe berries, red holly berries, and black ivy berries. Her glorious silver hair cascaded down her back, topped by a filigree circlet bearing a silver crescent to signify the Maiden. Her moonstone eyes danced with quiet delight to be united at last with Yul.

  As they came level with the bonfire, the boy emerged from the concealed exit. With a bow he passed the flaming torch to Yul, who held it aloft as he and Sylvie continued their procession to the Altar Stone. Sylvie took her place next to her father whilst Yul climbed the step and stood upon the stone, outstretched arm holding the Sacred Flame high. He stood there for a heartbeat and then the first beams of the sun flashed through the gap in the aligned stones. The golden rays hit Yul and his robe seemed to light up, the embroidery of radiant suns glittering and reflecting the beams of light.

  As sunlight illuminated him, Yul felt the earth energy beneath him start to spiral up through the stone and into his body. But this was stronger, much stronger, than ever before. The very earth seemed to si
ng, a strange music of rock and soil, the voice of the Goddess in the Landscape.

  A deep shuddering rumbled beneath the Stone Circle, almost like an earthquake, making the ground tremble and the people shake. It lasted only a brief heart-lurching moment. Reaching a terrifying crescendo, the spiral of Earth Magic shot out of the Altar Stone and swirled around Yul in a whirlwind, encasing him in an aura of pure energy. He radiated light, his robed body and wreathed head were haloed with green brightness. The torch in his hand flared brilliant green and his eyes burned like stars as he stood tall, doused in Earth Magic that seemed to set him on fire.

  ‘Folk of Stonewylde,’ cried Clip, ‘behold our new magus! The Green Man has returned to Stonewylde! All will be well! All will prosper! We greet him and offer him our loyalty!’

  ‘MAGUS OF STONEWYLDE!’ roared hundreds of voices.

  The energy flew around the Circle touching the hearts of every person there. The drums rolled triumphantly and the community burst into song, an ancient song whose words were remembered but no longer understood. The ceremony continued in the crisp morning air, brilliant with sparkling sunlight and a new atmosphere of liberty and joy.

  Yul and Sylvie caught each other’s eye and smiled, unable to believe that this day had finally dawned. Sylvie looked around the packed Circle, wondering if Professor Siskin had managed to return to Stonewylde. She hadn’t seen him yet, but as the light glowed brighter by the minute she scanned the faces expectantly. She hoped that he’d seen the amazing moment when the Green Man returned to Stonewylde, just as he’d foretold. She knew the professor’s soul belonged here, as did hers, and with his long exile finally over the elderly man could now find contentment in the place he loved so dearly.