Shaman of Stonewylde

by Kit Berry

  With a groan, Leveret rushed down to the next floor, hoping the puppy hadn’t got into Clip’s room and chewed his felt slippers again. He had a thing about poor Clip’s slippers. But the room was empty, so she hurried down to the ground level to her own room and the little library where they kept many of the books. She called Shadow, surprised he hadn’t come bounding out already to knock her over with his boisterous welcome. Maybe he’d done something really naughty and was hiding under her bed. He’d done that once before when he’d chewed up something he shouldn’t – and his guilt had been almost comical.

  But Shadow was nowhere to be seen, and, feeling very puzzled, Leveret dashed back upstairs again. Where on earth could he be? She could have taken him with her to Maizie’s when she got the message, but it was common knowledge that her mother didn’t care for dogs and certainly wouldn’t have him inside. Leveret often had to leave Shadow here on his own with Hare when she worked with Hazel and he was usually very good. She started to worry now, wondering if he’d somehow got out and run off somewhere.

  It wasn’t until she went back downstairs again to look more thoroughly for any sort of clue that she noticed the note lying on her pillow. Her heart leapt with relief, imagining someone had perhaps taken him out if he was howling, as he’d once done when she’d left him for too long. She snatched up the scrap of paper but her relief turned to shock, and then horror.

  WALK UP THE TRACK TOWARDS THE GATEHOUSE.

  DON’T TELL OR THE DOG WILL DIE.

  Marigold was at that lull she reached every late afternoon when the food was prepared for supper but cooking hadn’t yet commenced. Drying her hands and having checked the ovens were all hot, she pulled on her shawl and slipped out into the courtyard. It was a clear afternoon, the sun low in the sky and the temperature dropping. Only five days until Samhain, and if this weather continued the feasts could all be cooked outside on the bonfires. Every year Marigold prayed to the Goddess that it would be so.

  She hurried along the cobbled courtyard towards her cottage further down the row. She wanted to check that Magpie had stocked up on firewood as she’d asked him to earlier, and also that he’d lit the fire. He was usually very good, but if he was busy drawing something – or lately, copying in the beautiful script he’d learnt – then sometimes he forgot and she came back to a cold cottage. She remembered he was off with Leveret tonight to Mother Heggy’s cottage. Marigold didn’t entirely approve of this, always worrying that they’d turn their ankles on the path or get lost in sea-mist and fall over the cliff-edge, but she admitted she was a terrible worry-wort and if she had her way, Magpie would never venture outside at all.

  She passed Martin’s cottage and heard the faint sound of crying coming from an upstairs window. Martin was in the Hall she knew, having seen him just now, and Swift would be with his friends in the dormitory or sitting room, so it must be Mallow. Marigold frowned; she was concerned for the poor little woman who was always so quiet and timid. She seemed to be wasting away to nothing recently and was constantly scuttling backwards and forwards to Old Violet’s cottage, usually with a heavy basket. Marigold resolved to seek her out soon and try to help. It couldn’t be easy being handfasted to Martin, who’d become even more unpleasant lately. Buzz’s swift departure had upset him and he’d kept to himself ever since, when he wasn’t barking out orders at everyone.

  Letting herself into the cottage, Marigold saw that the fire was lit with the guard across. Magpie came clumping down the stairs and smiled at her.

  ‘Are you off in a minute?’ she asked. ‘Make sure you wrap up nice and warm, won’t you, Magpie?’

  He nodded and then frowned, pulling her sleeve. He led her over to the table where his notebooks and pens were spread out.

  ‘What is it? Have you done some more writing?’

  But he picked up a piece of rag and unwrapped it, showing her the contents. It was a shrivelled-up brownish mushroom. He pointed to his mouth and shook his head vehemently, in the same moment that Marigold realised what it was.

  ‘Oh no, Magpie! ’Tis what Leveret always said would happen! Were it from Jay?’

  Magpie shrugged and pointed to the door.

  ‘It were on the doorstep? Oh Mother, I thought all that nastiness were over and done with! ’Tis bound to be poisonous – good boy for not eating it. We should throw ‘un in the fire!’

  She snatched it from his hand, along with the rag, and yanking back the fireguard threw the lot into the flames.

  ‘There, you’re safe now. We’ll sort this out tomorrow, my boy. I’m not having Jay start up again, not like last time with that rabbit. No, he won’t do that again!’

  She stopped as she saw the look on Magpie’s face, and patted his arm kindly.

  ‘Don’t you worry, Magpie. ’Tis different this time around. You’re safe here and so’s Leveret. We won’t stand no nonsense from that nasty Jay this time. When Leveret comes to get you, bring her round to me in the kitchens first so as I can tell her about this and warn her to be on her guard. D’you understand me?’

  The heavy wicker cage used for transporting piglets lay in the lee of a high rock-face covered with swarming ivy. It was securely fastened with rope, and inside lay Shadow, nose on paws, trembling violently. In his fear, he’d brought up the enticing chunks of meat that he’d gulped down earlier, victim of his own puppy greed. He was hoarse from barking and yelping, and now merely whimpered from time to time. His ribs hurt where he’d been kicked hard and his paws were sore from trying to dig his way out of the sturdy cage. The temperature dropped as all around him the light began to fade from the sky. Shadow jumped at the loud CRUK! of a raven flying over the silent quarry, and lay shivering in abject misery.

  He saw her before she saw him, hurrying up the track wrapped in her old cloak. She looked small and frightened, and he felt a throb of power; this had been a long time coming. She didn’t notice the Landrover tucked away amongst trees, so he could stand there quite at ease in the dissolving light and watch her. He grinned to himself; so far, everything had gone perfectly to plan, just as Old Violet had promised it would. He was looking forward to the night ahead.

  Then Leveret looked up, saw the shape of the vehicle and her mouth gaped in fear. She rushed forward towards him and Jay opened the driver’s door and got in, slamming the door shut. She came round to his window, her face hollow, but he yelled at her through the glass.

  ‘If you want the dog to live, get in the car.’

  He saw her hesitation; she was terrified of being that close to him, but he gazed ahead stonily and after a second, she rushed around and yanked the passenger’s door open. She stood outside, leaning in towards him, her face white.

  ‘Are you stupid or what? I said, if you want the dog to live, get in the car.’

  It felt good to have the upper hand over her. There was nothing she could do but comply. She climbed in but left the door open. He turned and glared at her and she pulled it shut.

  ‘That’s better. Don’t piss me off tonight, Hare-brain, or you’ll be very sorry. I ain’t in the mood for any game-playing. Do as I say and the dog’ll be alright. Mess me about and . . .’

  She nodded, clamping her hands between her knees and that made him smile. He reached forward and turned the key in the ignition. She jumped like a startled bird and looked as if she’d try to escape, so he paused, with the engine running, and stared at her. Her frightened gaze met his, her eyes enormous, and he felt another pulse of pleasure.

  ‘Do you want to leave? Or do you want the dog to live? It’s your choice, Leveret.’

  ‘Please, Jay, can you just—’

  ‘If you speak again before I say you can, I’ll stop the car and kick you out. Then you’ll never see the dog again. Understood?’

  She nodded and stared ahead, huddled up in the seat in terror. He slammed the car into gear and pulled away, joining the track and climbing up the slope that led away from the Village, away from the Hall, away from the safety of people.

  Yul
had taken himself off on foot, once the news of Sylvie’s discovery had reached him. Miranda had rung through from her rooms to his office to warn him what had happened, and had told him in no uncertain terms to stay well away from Sylvie for the time being. His instinct was to ignore that and just barge his way into Miranda’s rooms and demand to see his wife. The thing he’d dreaded most had happened, and although he couldn’t now make that right, he could at least beg her forgiveness and try to explain himself.

  But Miranda had sounded so very adamant that he was worried he’d only make things worse. He was far too upset to take poor Skydancer for another of those punishing rides; it really wasn’t fair to make the stallion suffer too. Instead, he stumbled out of his office through the French windows and across the terrace and the lawns, with no idea where he was heading.

  Not Hare Stone, he thought desperately; that would be too painful. And not the Stone Circle either, nor the Village Green. Then he knew where he must go, for it was the place of darkness and despair, the place where many years ago he’d almost succumbed to the Dark Angel in his suffering. Yul found his feet taking him up the steep path towards Mooncliffe.

  Martin was in the library looking out and saw Yul’s headlong flight across the grass. His thin mouth stretched into a smile. Not long to go now and the black-haired bastard would be over-thrown. He knew that tonight, at Blood Moon, the sister would be dealt with. His mother, the true Wise Woman of Stonewylde, had told him all was now in motion and this time would not fail. And Samhain was so close! Martin’s heart raced at the thought of it and all they’d planned. His poor mother was too old and bent to take part directly in the ceremony, but nevertheless, it was all set and ready and she’d be there with him in spirit. One by one, the cuckoos would be cast out from the nest and the golden times would begin again.

  He sighed heavily. These past years had been so difficult and, for a long time, hope seemed to have died. But last year’s summoning at Samhain, thirteen years on, had been wildly successful, thanks to his mother’s skill and power. It was a shame that his aunt had passed on and his cousin moved away, for there was nothing like the power raised by three women with the same intent in their hearts. The magic of those three together had been very strong. But never mind, for his mother was the one with the real ability and despite her feeble frame, her intent was as powerful as ever.

  The sun had set as the Landrover reached Quarrycleave. Jay stopped the car at the foot of the quarry, the place where, many years before, his father had lived in a settlement of dirty caravans with a bunch of men who spoke a different language. All traces of this had long been removed, but, as Jay turned off the engine he had a sudden sense of the man he barely remembered; a very tall and frightening man with tattoos and piercings and a strange accent picked up from living in the Outside World.

  Jay stared straight ahead out of the muddy windscreen as a succession of emotions surged in his heart. Sadness and regret at never having known his father. Anger at being cheated of such a hero, for Jay was proud of his father’s infamous reputation. And determination that somebody would pay for all this by elevating Jay to his rightful position in Stonewylde society. His Great Aunt Violet had explained to him how it should be here – and how it would be, very soon. He had a job to do to help make this happen, and it was one that was no hardship to him at all. His task tonight was to rob Leveret of any chance of becoming Wise Woman, and he cracked his knuckles at the thought of the pleasure to come. This was something he relished; he’d been dreaming of it for a long time.

  He turned to her and in the half-light his eyes gleamed. He hadn’t bothered shaving, hadn’t gone through all the stupid preparations he’d done last time he’d brought a girl up here. Back then he’d thought that perhaps being clean and smelling sweet would please a girl, soften her up and make her more amenable to his clumsy handling. But this evening he hadn’t wasted time on any of that crap; he’d been at work all day and if he smelled of hard labour, that was her problem.

  He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and matches. He’d saved these as a treat, along with the bottle of strong mead. He lit a cigarette, watching her flinch as he struck the match and made it flare into life. The first drag of the harsh cigarette felt so good as it hit his lungs, and Jay squirmed with pleasure. He fished out the little bottle of double-fermented mead and took a deep swig, gasping at its strength and the way his insides felt instantly liquid. He chuckled in the near darkness and felt her shrink into herself. Her terror was like a quaking shadow between them and Jay savoured every second of it.

  ‘So, you want your little pup back, do you?’ he said, his voice unexpectedly hoarse from the smoke and alcohol.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, I do. Please.’

  ‘Well, he ain’t harmed – not yet. Apart from a good kick.’

  He waited for a reaction and felt her struggling to keep her words unspoken.

  ‘He’s a proper runt, ain’t he? Bloody crippled, useless runt. I can see why Gefrin off-loaded him onto you. And stupid too – he came straight into my trap.’

  ‘Is he . . . is he alright?’

  Jay laughed harshly and drank from the bottle again. The cigarette smoke filled the car as he’d kept the window shut, flicking the ash onto the dirty floor.

  ‘He knows who’s boss now, put it that way. He won’t be standing up to me no more. But no, he ain’t seriously injured.’

  She was silent at this and he guessed that her fury was smothered by her fear, which made his lips twitch. She’d always been a gobby little bitch, squaring up to him against the odds, so this trembling silence showed just how scared she was.

  ‘So, Leveret, the dog’s life is in your hands. I don’t give a shit about the animal, whether he lives or dies. I’d be happy to kick him to death. Or smash his skull open with a heavy rock. Or leave him to die slowly of thirst. Or give him some o’ the poison I got here.’

  She jerked in horror and he laid a heavy hand on her arm.

  ‘But it don’t make no odds to me, so this is the deal I’ll do with you. If you do everything I tell you and don’t make no fuss, no noise, no struggling – I’ll let the dog live. I’ll turn him free and I won’t harm him. But if there’s one wrong move from you, one step out of line, then I’ll make you watch him die. Understood?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said in a strangled voice.

  ‘Course, you might decide the pup’s life ain’t worth it,’ he said, pulling out another cigarette. He lit it and inhaled deeply. ‘You might decide that you just can’t be a good girl for me after all – that what I want from you is too much. In that case, Leveret, do you know what will happen?’

  ‘You’ll kill Shadow,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll kill Shadow, and then I’ll force you anyway. I won’t care if you scream and struggle – there ain’t nobody around to hear it anyway. I’ll take what I want whether you like it or not. But it’ll be so much easier for everyone if you don’t fight me. Understood?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Maizie eyed her eldest granddaughter worriedly, noting the frantic way Celandine had started to pace around the cottage.

  ‘For Goddess’ sake, sit down, child!’ she said.

  ‘She can’t help it, Granny Maizie,’ said Bluebell, colouring in her picture at the table. ‘It’s the Moon Fullness tonight, and—’

  ‘Please, Granny Maizie!’ said Celandine. ‘Mummy said we’d go onto the Village Green and I need to go there now!’

  ‘I’ll take her,’ said Rufus, getting up from the armchair. ‘I’ll look after her, like Leveret said.’

  ‘Oh did she now?’ said Maizie sharply. ‘Seems ’tis all decided. Well, I suppose if you wrap up warm enough, Celandine, and promise me you’ll just have a quick dance around the Green . . .’

  ‘Oh yes, Granny Maizie, thank you!’

  She was almost crying with relief and rushed to the door to grab her coat from the hook. Rufus found his jacket too and started to pull his boots
on.

  ‘And your boots, missy. You’re not going out in shoes, not when ’tis Hunter’s Moon and so close to winter now.’

  ‘But she can’t dance in boots, Granny!’ said Bluebell, showing no inclination herself to go out into the chilly evening.

  ‘I don’t care about that,’ said Maizie firmly. ‘Warm boots or nothing. And not too long, Rufus.’

  Yul stood on the cliff top gazing out to sea. He wore no coat but the cold didn’t reach him. The sun had set though the moon had yet to rise, and he watched the dull water with a heavy heart. He hadn’t been up here for so long, hating the place and all the bad memories it brought. But it was fitting tonight, and he almost savoured the melancholy and guilt dredged up by the sight of the round, pale disc of rock. Sylvie – his beloved moongazy girl, and the suffering she’d gone through here at the hands of Magus. He remembered her standing on the stone, her skin chased with the tiny silver threads of light, and the endless moon eggs he’d made her hold. He recalled her collapsing in agony and being forced to lie there whilst Magus leeched her moon magic, stealing her gift to feed his insatiable hunger.

  And tonight Sylvie was still suffering and it was he who’d caused it by his betrayal. Miranda had said there’d been a picture left behind by Rainbow which was in Cherry’s hands, but others had seen it too and everyone was talking of it. This must be the ultimate humiliation for Sylvie. He’d inflicted it on her as deliberately and cold-heartedly as Magus had once inflicted pain. He was no better than his father after all, and Sylvie would be infinitely better off without him; all he brought her was heartache. As he thought this, a sliver of the dark pink moon appeared above the horizon. It was as if someone had slashed at the fabric of the night sky and made it bleed.

  In the Dolmen Clip had fallen into a deep trance whilst staring beyond the dancing flames of his fire. He was wrapped up well against the cold, with layers of woollens under his cloak, a warm felt hat on his head and lined boots on his feet. Even his hands were mittened. He’d been cold for a while now and guessed it was one of the effects of the medication he’d been prescribed. He felt so weary and his head bowed on his chest as the silver wolf led him into another realm, finally revealing to him what was to come and what must be done. In the dark sky, the Hunter’s Moon rose in silence and an owl hooted as it passed over the ancient stone portal, entrance to another world.