by Kit Berry
He laughed at this and shook his head.
‘I’m not going to win you over easily, am I? I don’t like your rudeness and if you ever speak to me like that when other people are present, I shall have to cut you down to size. But between you and me, Sylvie, I do like your spirit. You’re brave and loyal and those are qualities I admire.’
She shrugged, dismissing his compliments, and glared at him.
‘I misjudged you when you first came here,’ he continued. ‘I knew you were special, but you seemed so timid and meek, such a little mouse. How wrong could I have been? There’s a spark in you that I like very much, even though you infuriate me too.’
‘When’s Yul coming back?’
He groaned. ‘Oh for Goddess’ sake, you’re not still going on about him? You’ve seen the state of him, and that was a week ago. He’ll be much worse now after another week of hard labour in the quarry and Jackdaw’s rough treatment. Can’t you leave the boy alone? He said he wanted nothing more to do with you, remember?’
‘Of course – I’ll never forget it. Nor shall I ever forget your cruelty.’
‘It’s not cruelty, Sylvie, it’s how Stonewylde society works. Yul broke our laws and had to be punished. His father gave him a very thorough whipping the night we found him in that hut in the woods, and was keen to whip Yul again. If I’d sent Yul home, he would’ve done. So I’ve actually done Yul a favour by taking him up to Quarrycleave for a fortnight.’
‘Oh please!’ Sylvie rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not stupid, you know.’
‘No, you’re not, which is why I can’t understand your persistence. If you feel any sort of sympathy for the boy, leave him alone.’
‘All I want to know is this – are you intending to collect him before the Solstice, when his two weeks is up?’
‘No, Sylvie,’ he replied wearily. ‘I’ve already explained this. I’ll be too busy. I’ll collect him after the midsummer holiday. That’s my final word.’
‘Thank you. That’s all I wanted to know.’
On the morning of the nineteenth, Sylvie awoke early to the sound of querulous cawing outside her window. It was Mother Heggy’s crow. He stayed a while, pecking at his wing feathers, and then flew away. But his message was clear and Sylvie understood that the things were ready to collect from the doorstep, so she dashed up to the cottage before breakfast. She spent a busy morning organising everything she needed for the journey and packed a bag carefully, conscious of the weight she must carry and noticing how fine and clear the day was. It would be hot and she must take enough water for both days.
Sylvie was very nervous, scared that something terrible would happen. She could get lost or sprain an ankle. Magus or Jackdaw could discover her. She might have no opportunity at the quarry to rescue Yul, with all the men about. But she had to trust to destiny. Hadn’t two magical people both foretold she’d travel on a journey and was destined to be a saviour?
Miranda was distracted that morning, still waiting for her period, and barely noticed Sylvie. She certainly wasn’t checking up on her, particularly as Yul was safely out of the way. Sylvie said she must practise a Solstice dance with the Hallfolk girls and would stay the night in the girls’ wing at the Hall, and Miranda accepted the plausible story without question. Sylvie had earlier hidden the salves and potions from Mother Heggy in a cupboard at the Hall, and the cake wrapped in rhubarb leaves was concealed safely under her bed in Woodland Cottage.
Magus left Stonewylde at midday and would be home that evening with the students. If their return was anything like their departure, nobody would notice her absence in the chaos. Cherry’s sister, Marigold the cook, had packed her a picnic and hadn’t asked many questions; like everyone who worked at the Hall, she was so very busy. Cherry was up to her eyes organising bedrooms and laundry for the many guests, assisted by an army of extra servants drafted up daily from the Village. Marigold and her kitchen staff struggled to cater for the vast number of extra mouths to feed, particularly as for many of the visitors, the delicious organic food at Stonewylde was a highlight of their stay. Sylvie felt sorry for all the Villagers who had to work so hard during the holiday.
It was early afternoon when she finally left the Hall. The backpack was bulky and heavy and she worried it was too much to carry. But everything inside was needed; she’d packed no extras. She left by a side door, cutting over a lawn towards a path leading into the hills of the ridgeway. She’d only gone a little way across the lawn when she heard a familiar voice.
‘Going somewhere, Sylvie?’
Holly and Rainbow sat under a tree by the lawn and Sylvie’s heart sank.
‘Just a walk. It’s too crowded here.’
‘Looks like a long walk with all that gear on your back. Where are you going?’
She stared at Holly’s pretty little face, her brown eyes bright with curiosity. This was the first time Holly had spoken to her in ages. Maybe she was ready to make up.
‘I’m not sure. Just wandering wherever my feet take me.’
‘How poetic. You’re not running away then?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Don’t you know they’re all coming back today?’ asked Rainbow, busy weaving a daisy chain into her long hair. ‘Don’t you want to be here when they arrive?’
‘Well, yes. I mean … I’ll see them later, I’m sure.’
‘It’s not very friendly though, is it, Sylvie?’ said Rainbow. ‘We’ll be waiting for them by the porch and I’ve made a huge “Welcome Home” banner.’
‘You haven’t really integrated into our world at all, have you?’ said Holly. ‘You’re not one of the Hallfolk, not one of us in any way. Several of the visitors have wondered what on earth you’re doing here. I couldn’t enlighten them because I have no idea myself.’
Sylvie frowned at her. So much for being ready to make up.
‘Don’t get nasty with me again, Holly,’ she said. ‘Just because Buzz isn’t coming back there’s no need to take it out on me.’
Holly’s eyes glittered at this and her mouth became mean.
‘And I bet if he was coming back today, you wouldn’t be disappearing off like this!’ she said. ‘You’d be waiting at the door with your tongue hanging out, and—’
‘I can’t be bothered to listen to you,’ said Sylvie firmly. ‘See you later.’
‘I hope you fall down a rabbit hole and break your ankle!’ called Holly.
‘Or sit on a viper and get your backside bitten!’ yelled Rainbow.
‘Why don’t you both grow up?’ retorted Sylvie, marching off to the sound of their mocking laughter.
She tried to put the unpleasant scene behind her as she slowly climbed up into the hills of the ridgeway. She really disliked them both, and with July, Wren and Fennel due back, it could only get worse. Thank goodness Buzz wasn’t returning too. The only one she had any time for was Dawn, but she was older and had her own circle of friends. Sadly, Sylvie acknowledged that Holly was right; she hadn’t integrated into their world at all and she wasn’t one of them. But that wasn’t such a bad thing, she thought angrily. They were horrible – arrogant and selfish. The only person whose company she really enjoyed was Yul’s, and his friendship had been forbidden. She thought again how much happier she’d have been as a Villager.
Sylvie was walking steadily along Dragon’s Back, hot and sticky in the blazing sun but trying not to drink too much of the precious water, when she saw a figure approaching in the distance. She groaned at the prospect of another encounter, though at least it couldn’t be Magus who was safely in Exeter. She was a poor liar and worried she’d give herself away. As the figure drew closer she was dismayed to recognise Clip, in robes the colour of speedwell. He wore a piece of cloth, shot through with gold thread and decorated in an Indian pattern, loosely wrapped around his head. He raised his staff in greeting as he drew near, and she thought desperately what to say if he asked questions. It hadn’t occurred to her that she’d bump into people on her journey.
&nbs
p; ‘Blessings, Sylvie!’ he called, his weather-beaten face breaking into a smile. ‘I imagined I was alone in trying to escape the hordes.’
‘Too crowded, isn’t it?’ she agreed. ‘I had to get away.’
‘You’re carrying a heavy load!’
‘Yes. I …’
She couldn’t think of any reason why she should be. He stared down at her, his pale eyes twinkling.
‘You wouldn’t be planning on staying out overnight, would you?’
She glanced up at him in panic but he was grinning.
‘Don’t worry, I too feel the need to sleep under the stars. I take it nobody knows?’
‘No, and please don’t say anything. My mother fusses terribly.’
‘Your secret’s safe with me. You can’t come to any harm, although watch out for adders. There are so many at Stonewylde and I’ve seen several recently. Are you going far?’
‘You said I was going to travel, remember?’
‘So I did.’
His eyes took on their dreamy look and blinked into a different focus. He gazed right through her in silence, then laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
‘Your barn owl is with you, Sylvie. And another travels too, to offer extra protection. A raven!’
He blinked again and smiled down at her, patting her shoulder.
‘Lucky girl having two spirit guides. You must be very special indeed. Here, let me give you something.’
He fished inside the small shoulder bag he always carried and produced two speckled cakes.
‘When you’re lying under the spangled veil of stars tonight, these will help you on your journey. If you see my wolf, greet him from me, won’t you?’
He strode off humming softly and Sylvie continued along the Dragon’s Back, remembering all that Yul had told her about the line of Earth Magic that snaked this ancient pathway. She tried to draw on it as she walked but realised it was no use. She was a moon person; Yul was the one who could tap into the earth energy. The sun moved lower in the sky, turning softly golden and stretching her shadow out long and thin behind her.
The larks were still rising around her, appearing out of nowhere from the ground and ascending rapidly into the wide open sky, singing joyously as they rose so high they almost disappeared from sight altogether. She’d never seen larks before coming to Stonewylde. The swallows were more familiar, but nevertheless a breathtaking sight as they swooped and dived in the bright blue skies above. She felt some of the spiritual unity that she realised was a constant factor in Yul’s world. This was what mattered in life – the joy and freedom of the birds around her, the ancient path of the grassy ridgeway where people had walked for millennia, the blueness of the skies and the gold of the sun. Nothing on earth was more important than these simple things. This was the very essence of existence.
At last she reached the place on the ridgeway where she must turn off and follow a path leading north. She saw a small copse aligned with a distant pair of tumuli, like breasts, and knew this was the right spot; she’d noted this landmark from the maps in the library. It was early evening now and the sun had passed through the western sky and was heading towards its north-west summer bed. In two nights’ time it would be at its furthest point of setting. She remembered Yul telling her about it during those wonderful couple of days they’d spent together, before Magus had snatched him at the Blue Moon.
As she walked down the slope of the ridgeway towards the wood, Sylvie thought of Yul. Not as she’d seen him last, broken and damaged, but how he’d been that weekend when they’d walked, talked and laughed together. Just the thought of him made her long for his company. He was so beautiful. She loved his smile, his smoky grey eyes, his hollow cheeks and sharp cheekbones. She thought of his mouth and felt a wriggle of embarrassment when she remembered how they’d almost kissed by the Hare Stone. She’d wanted to so much and yet she was scared too. Sylvie would be fifteen in two days’ time and had never kissed a boy – had never even wanted to until now. She concentrated hard and tried to send a message of love and comfort to him.
I’m on my way Yul! I’m coming to save you from the place of bones and death.
As the sun sank lower in the sky, Yul collected up the dirty dishes lying scattered about on the grass. In this fine weather the men spent the evenings outside, pleased with the fresh air after breathing in stone-dust all day. Yul made several journeys to gather up the greasy plates and cutlery, almost tripping over as the men stuck their feet out whenever he passed. It had become a regular game; who could make Yul fall with his arms full.
He stacked the dirty things on the chipped table in the dilapidated kitchen caravan and turned on the hot tap. The boiler linked to a gas cylinder fired up and lukewarm water trickled into the tiny sink. It always took several sink-fulls to wash everything. Yul’s back ached badly from loading broken stone onto the dumper trucks all day and he felt queasy after the fatty, synthetic food he’d just eaten. He was filthy, his hair a mat of thick white dust, but there was no point washing. He’d get just as dirty the next day and here everyone smelled horrible.
When he’d eventually finished, Yul went outside only to be greeted by demands for more beer all round. He went back and loaded up a crate with cans from the fridge, which he served to the raucous group of men. The illegal workers sat together playing an excited and noisy game of poker, a stack of coins in the middle. Jackdaw sprawled in his luxurious recliner, a can in one hand and cigarette in the other. The quarryman from Portland sat with him listening to a portable radio.
‘The reception here’s bloody terrible,’ he grumbled, trying to tune the radio better.
‘Yeah, I know. There’s no mast for miles and the hills block everything. That’s why we can’t use mobile phones here,’ said Jackdaw. ‘I can’t get used to having no mobile. ‘Tis like losing your right arm. No bloody signal at all on the whole estate.’
He noticed Yul heading towards the caravan where they slept.
‘Where are you going, boy?’ he yelled. Yul stopped and groaned; he’d hoped to lie down to ease his aching muscles.
‘Just to the caravan, sir,’ he said.
‘No you ain’t! Come ‘ere!’
Yul trudged over to where the two men sat. Jackdaw glared up at him, his brilliant blue eyes sparking like an overloaded fuse.
‘You don’t leave till I say you can. You ain’t finished work yet. Sit!’
Yul sank to the dirty grass, full of ash, cigarette butts and globs of phlegm. Now Jackdaw would keep him up half the night out of spite. He hung his head, so weary he was almost asleep as he sat. Surely he must be getting to the end soon? He’d lost track of the days but could tell the Solstice was very close now from the size of his shadow at mid-day.
‘Get me another beer, boy’ said Jackdaw throwing the empty can at Yul’s departing back and cheering when he hit his target. This resulted in all the men having a go, and Yul was pelted with a shower of cans, not all of them empty. He took no notice; any reaction just made it worse. Then they’d make him stand still and be a real target whilst they took turns to throw several cans each. It was one of the many humiliations they put him through daily and he’d learnt to accept it as normal. When he returned, Jackdaw again commanded him to sit, tossing the ring-pull in his face.
‘Well, Yul, do you know what day it is tomorrow?’
‘No, sir.’
‘The twentieth.’
‘Is it?’
‘You’ll have done your two weeks here.’
Yul’s heart leapt with hope. Was he free to go? Would Jackdaw release him?
‘Do you want to go back to the Village tomorrow?’
‘Yes! Yes I do!’
‘Yeah, I bet you do.’
They sat in silence. The Portlander was still trying to listen to the sports programme, fiddling with the tuner and cursing. Yul’s heart hammered with hope but he didn’t dare ask outright. Jackdaw pulled deeply at his beer and belched.
‘Pity you’re not going then!’ he laughe
d.
Yul’s spirit plummeted. He fought back the tears that threatened to spill. That would really make Jackdaw’s evening; he’d have such fun if Yul cried.
‘Why not?’ he whispered.
‘’Cos I ain’t had word from Magus!’ shouted Jackdaw leaning down into his face. ‘And don’t you question me, you little bugger!’
‘What’s that?’ asked the Portlander.
‘I told him he ain’t going home tomorrow ‘cos I’ve had no message from Magus. Besides, I want to keep him here. He makes a good dogsbody, don’t he? We got him half trained now and I don’t want to lose him. When I see Magus next, I’ll ask if you can stay on here, Yul. In a couple o’ weeks’ time we’ll be doing a big blast and you’ll be useful. Looking forward to that, ain’t we?’
The other man nodded.
‘Yeah, should be a good one. Clear all that backfill over on the west side. Looking forward to it myself.’
‘So you ain’t going nowhere tomorrow, Yul. And if I have my way, you won’t be going nowhere for a long time. I like having a personal slave and you’re shaping up at last. Now move your arse and get me another beer.’
The boy rose to his feet and was again hit by a flying can. He almost picked it up and hurled it back, but that would’ve been inviting death.
As the sun sank in a brilliant golden ball of light, Sylvie reached the quarry. She was exhausted, her legs aching and back stiff from carrying the heavy pack. She stopped on the slope leading down towards the shallow end of the quarry and took stock of the scene before her. There were lights on in a couple of the caravans and men sitting around outside. She could hear their voices but was too far away to identify Yul.
Sylvie wondered where to make her bed for the night. Nobody must see her, as the plan depended on her arriving in the morning as if she’d come straight from the Hall. She decided to skirt around the camp and go up the outside of the quarry towards the top of the hill. There were large boulders up there and she’d be well hidden, but able to watch what went on below.
Wearily she made a wide detour around the caravans and the lower end of the quarry. The sun had disappeared over the brow of the hill but it was still very light, being so close to the solstice. It was a beautiful sunset, the few clouds a glorious pink, bright against the pale-blue sky. For once Sylvie didn’t notice in her aching effort to climb the hill before darkness fell. She must avoid the rocks littering the grass, as well as the precipice of the quarry edge.
