by Kit Berry
At last she’d climbed high enough. She was nearly at the top and chose a great boulder to shelter her as she slept. She stopped with relief, shrugging off the heavy load from her back, and peered down into the quarry. She was only a few metres away from the sheer drop, very high up almost at the head of the great pit. She noticed an enormous stone there, rising like a pillar from amongst the boulders, too smooth and shaped to be in its natural state. Perhaps this was the stone Magus had told her about, the one on which he’d been conceived. In the morning she’d look for the snake carvings he’d mentioned. She mused at the strange Stonewylde custom of making love on rocks and vowed that when the time came, she’d never conceive her children in such a bizarre place.
Sylvie unpacked her bag and put on all the clothes she’d brought, wrapping herself in the blanket too. It was cosy enough, though she was sure she’d feel the cold later as the temperature dropped. She had a little food and drink but saved most of it for Yul the next day. The muscles in her legs twitched with fatigue now she’d finally stopped walking. She was looking forward to sleep after walking so far, with an equally long walk ahead tomorrow. It was quiet up here on the hillside, the generator down by the caravans just a distant throb, and the men’s voices now quiet. It occurred to Sylvie that she’d never before spent a night out in the open, and here she was alone, at the place of bones and death. Magus had said he admired her bravery but she didn’t feel very brave right now.
Gazing down into the quarry, she felt a sudden sharp prickle of fear. It was dark and shadowy down there but she thought she’d seen a movement amongst the deep canyons of stone. Daylight was fading fast, thickening into darkness, and her eyes strained in the gloom to see what crept in the quarry. Another movement over her shoulder, pale in the corner of her vision, made her jump. She swivelled in alarm, her heart thudding, ready to leap up and run. But then she smiled, exhaling in relief. A great white barn owl glided silently overhead, circling on soft wings. She felt safe now, as if her guardian had arrived to protect her. She closed her eyes, ignoring the yawning darkness of the quarry below, and hoped for sleep.
19
Sylvie found sleep impossible, despite her exhaustion. The night was alive with strange, inexplicable noises and the quarry, so very close by, frightened her. She lay tucked into the great boulder and knew she couldn’t possibly roll over the edge in her sleep. Yet still she felt the terrible sensation that she was being sucked inexorably towards the quarry, dragged slowly along the grass till she reached the edge. And then something would suddenly rise up out of the darkness below and pull her in, swallowing her down into the black depths. She tried very hard to squash such terrifying, illogical thoughts.
Sylvie gazed upwards, watching the sky slowly darken and stars appear, one by one, thousand by thousand, until the whole sky was peppered with them. A crescent moon hung low over the hill, tilted and yellow as it set. Sylvie nodded to herself – the huntress’ bow. She was the Maiden and must be brave and strong in her quest to save her friend. The barn owl soared above and gave her comfort. Inside the quarry the ivy rustled and shivered in the slight breeze.
Down by the caravans, Yul was dozing where he sat slumped on the hard ground by Jackdaw’s feet. The men had been playing cards for hours and now slurred their speech, still demanding more beer every so often but slowing down as the effects of the long hard day took their toll. As they stumbled off to their caravans one by one, Yul rose painfully and fetched a bin liner to collect up the dozens of beer cans tossed all over the grass. So much rubbish – he’d never come across it before, as everything in the Village was made of natural materials and recycled or composted. He hated this Outside World junk defiling Stonewylde.
Finally Jackdaw heaved his bulk out of the recliner, breaking wind long and loud and rubbing his beer-filled belly. He was the last to go. Despite the copious amounts of beer he’d consumed, he was remarkably steady on his feet. He watched Yul stooping wearily to pick up the last of the cans. The boy was well trained and made life much easier for them all. Jackdaw certainly wouldn’t let him go if he had any say in the matter. And he enjoyed having Yul around for a bit of sport too – the boy’s pride and determination made him something of a challenge.
‘Can I go to bed now, sir?’ mumbled Yul, swaying on his feet.
‘Yeah, if you’ve done all your work. I’m off myself now.’
‘I’ll check everything’s done,’ said Yul, not wanting to go into the caravan at the same time. If he wasted ten minutes or so now, Jackdaw would be snoring in bed by the time Yul crept in to lie on his blanket on the floor. He hated watching the man undress, nor did he like being watched himself. Jackdaw always made some crude comment and enjoyed humiliating him. It often ended in a kick or thump, sometimes a full thrashing, and Yul knew he couldn’t take that tonight. His face was finally free from the swelling, although traces of the bruises lingered, yellow and shadowy. His back was still a terrible mess of long crusted scabs and fading bruises, but no longer hurt constantly. Magus and Alwyn had left their mark well and he tried very hard to avoid further injuries from Jackdaw.
He waited as the enormous man stooped and entered their caravan. He’d be trampling on Yul’s bedding on the floor, not caring about his dirty boots. Yul sighed and without warning, misery rose up to overwhelm him. Exhaustion and despair pressed on him relentlessly and he felt his heart would break. He’d served his time, taken his punishment. He should be returning home tomorrow; back to his Village, to his mother and family, free to enjoy the Solstice festival. That was all that had kept him going. Instead … he began to cry openly, free of an audience at last. He sank into one of the chairs and sobbed harshly into his hands, his whole body wracked with the violence of his weeping. Yul had suffered a great deal more than most in his fifteen years, but tonight he plumbed the depths of wretchedness. Tonight, hope had finally been snuffed out.
He simply couldn’t go on. He couldn’t take any more. He’d survived the fourteen days knowing that his punishment would come to an end if he could only hold on. And now … it was to be extended. If this was to be his life – treated worse than a dog at Jackdaw’s beck and call, mocked and humiliated by every half-witted man in the gang, worked harder than any slave without even the companionship of fellow sufferers, abused whenever Jackdaw had the inclination – he didn’t want to live. What was the point? There was no hope, no prospect of release. If Jackdaw meant to keep him here indefinitely, he might as well die. He’d rather free his spirit from this miserable existence.
Yul rose slowly and took a few steps towards the mouth of the quarry. It would be so easy to climb one of the high faces, right up amongst the glossy ivy, and just let himself go. The falling boy, flying in slow motion through the air. Hitting the unyielding rocks below, the life trickling out of him slowly as his spirit slipped from his broken body and stepped in freedom to the open gate of the Otherworld.
He left the dirty grass and felt hard stone beneath his feet. Slowly he moved amongst the silent dumper trucks towards the dark labyrinth of stone that awaited him. As it had always waited, knowing that one day this would be his destiny, and his beautiful release from horrible suffering at Stonewylde. He felt Quarrycleave calling and came willingly, wanting only to end his torment. Quarrycleave had come to his rescue and would give him joyful freedom from all pain.
Sylvie felt the spirit of Quarrycleave abroad in the darkness. The sensation had been growing now for some while; the stirring in the shadows below, the awakening of something that had been biding its time, waiting for the moment when its call would be heard and heeded. She felt terror prickle through her body and ripple down her arms. The evil was awake and walking; stalking its lair and summoning its victim. She knew with absolute certainty who the victim was and her eyes flew open in horror. He was in the labyrinth now, wandering its winding ways between walls of stone. He was heading for the heart of the maze where it waited for him in anticipation, greedy for blood to be spilled and its hunger to be satisfied.
Yul felt the protective stone walls around him, close and very high. He was deep in the maze now, the ivy bristling and brushing him as he walked the path towards his destiny. He knew what lay in wait for him and he longed to meet it. He wanted only to give his blood to feed the hunger, to add his life-force to the hundreds of others who’d given theirs too in this place of bones and death. He’d be one more of so many, no longer alone and isolated as he’d been all his life, but united in death with his triumphant dark-haired ancestors.
Yul smiled in the velvet blackness of the shadowy processional way. His thin face was eager and his damaged body ready for the sacrifice that must come. He heard it breathing up ahead, waiting patiently for him, welcoming him into its enfolding maw. His heart was glad and at peace, wanting nothing but to gloriously give himself to Quarrycleave and join everyone who’d done the same over the long centuries. Freedom from his wretched life was only a few steps away.
Sylvie sat bolt upright and looked about wildly. In the darkness she’d never get down there in time to stop him. The sparkling stars above her swung crazily as she turned her head, frantically trying to see some way to save him. She sensed rather than saw a dark shape above, blocking the white starlight in a huge winged silhouette. The raven had come.
Go! she screamed from her soul. Go now – NOW – and save him!
The black shape wheeled around in a whirring of powerful wings and dropped down into the quarry below. The white barn owl swooped low with its angel-feathered wings and disappeared too into the blackness. Sylvie knelt up, her heart pounding, and sent her spirit down to him.
Come back to the world of the living, Yul! We’re the brightness and the darkness and we belong together. Don’t leave me!
Yul paused. Something had joined him in the dark. There was a great flapping of wings and a mighty KRUK! A giant bird circled around before him in the dark passageway, hitting the ivy-clad stone in a flurry of noise and urgency. He stopped dead. Too big for a crow. Then he knew in his heart which bird had come to stop him, even though his eyes couldn’t see it clearly. Mother Heggy had sent the Raven for him.
His heart pounded in a turmoil of conflict. He needed to continue, to answer the summoning of beautiful Quarrycleave. But the raven … He swallowed, his hands trembling, indecision gnawing at his tired mind. He stepped forward tentatively as the great bird landed ahead of him on the path, blocking his way. Maybe he could edge round it, for he really must obey the summons.
Then he heard a sound that froze him rigid. The long low hoot of an owl echoed through the stone passageways of the labyrinth. Ahead in the darkness Yul saw the white shape gliding towards him, round moon-face heading straight for him. And he heard her desperate cry. His saviour, his brightness, the one he must never leave. The owl swooped at him, beak and claws aiming straight at his face. He turned, shielding his eyes from the vicious sharpness. He began to stumble back the way he’d come, retracing his steps in the labyrinth, away from the hunger and its lust for his blood, back towards life and safety.
The owl passed overhead several times, banking round on seraph wings to guide him, returning again and again to ensure he didn’t falter. The raven launched itself into flight and flapped over him, leading him onwards until he reached the gateway of the labyrinth and was out in the open quarry, staggering between the dumper trucks, skirting the mountain of broken waste stone, leaving the stone floor and stepping once more onto the grass.
Yul lurched across to the caravan and crept inside, sinking onto the dirty blanket on the floor and shutting his eyes. He fell instantly into a deep, untroubled sleep, all threats vanquished, all harm averted. The barn owl landed on the flat caravan roof and closed its wings tidily. Its heart-shaped face swivelled and its bright black eyes blinked. The owl remained sentinel all night as the sun traced its short path towards the dawn.
Sylvie felt the raven return. It landed in a tumble on the boulder where she sheltered, flexing its massive wings and preening its glossy feathers with its sharp beak. The danger was passed. Quarrycleave would remain unsatisfied for now – Yul was safe. Shakily Sylvie lay down, pulling the blanket around her with trembling fingers. Lying on her back, she gazed up at the silvery arch of the Milky Way above, at the brilliant glitter of stars flung across the night cloak of the Goddess. She closed her eyes and slid into exhausted sleep. When her dreams came, the raven had vanished. Strangely, in its place on the boulder sat a tiny silvery creature. A wild girl with hair of gossamer silk and eyes that glowed like moonstones.
Sylvie awoke to the sound of engines and motors, a terrible cacophony from below. She sat up in confusion. Her blanket was damp with dew and she was alone amongst the boulders. She stretched her stiff limbs and spine, her hair a wild tangle around her face. Peeping over the edge of the boulder she surveyed the scene below. The sun was well risen and the day’s work had started. The white, dusty landscape was alive with action – men moving around, the dumper trucks scurrying forward, the great digger lurching into motion. It was noisy and choking and she hated it all.
Keeping herself hidden from sight below, Sylvie rolled up her blanket and stowed it in the bag. She bathed her hands and face in cold dew, and relieved herself behind another rock. She ate and drank a little and then fastened the backpack securely. She watched for a while longer, locating the largest man in a hard hat who could be none other than the odious Jackdaw. She made out another figure that seemed to move twice as fast as everyone else. It must be Yul. Everyone had white hair and dusty clothes, but she was sure it was him. She smiled with anticipation. Not long now till his liberation from this terrible slavery.
Sylvie skirted down the hill, careful to keep out of sight. In daylight she saw the labyrinth of rock-faces clearly and shuddered at the thought of what had almost happened down there last night. One more sacrifice to swell the many. She glanced back at the great pillar of stone she’d noticed in the twilight at the head of the quarry. She paused for a moment, staring at its hewn shape and the strange way it rose up next to the cliff-face, its top forming a platform. Squinting in the brilliant sunlight that danced off the white stones, she made out a tangle of writhing serpents carved in relief that swarmed all the way up the huge stone. In the morning light it sparkled like snow crystals, and Sylvie was reminded of the disc of rock at Mooncliffe. Despite the warm sunshine, she shivered suddenly and turned away, heading down the hill towards the quarry mouth and caravans.
She waited a long time at a point about halfway down, hiding behind a boulder and a stunted tree. When the moment was right she’d know and would make her move. Eventually it came. She saw Jackdaw toss off his hard hat – only he and one other man wore them – and stride towards a battered pick-up truck that stood near by, full of bulging bin liners. He started the engine and swung the vehicle around, heading off down the track into the distance. When he’d been gone five minutes, Sylvie took a deep breath and stood up, stretching her stiff legs. She walked purposefully down to the quarry mouth and the settlement of caravans. She felt brave and strong again, sure in the knowledge that this was how it should be and that the Goddess was watching over her.
She reached the caravans, where several men hung about, and was disgusted at the mess and squalor. Soon somebody came over and she asked to speak to the boss. The man shrugged and pointed to a figure by a pile of rubble in the quarry. She picked her way across, stepping over chunks of stone, coughing in the dusty air.
‘Are you the person in charge?’ she asked the man in the yellow hard hat.
‘No, you’d be wanting Jack, and he’s gone on to get the supplies from the Gatehouse, m’dear.’
‘So who’s in charge when he’s gone?’
‘I suppose I am, seeing as how all these here are foreigners and don’t know their arses from their elbows. I’m the quarryman from Portland.’
‘Well I’ve been sent down by Magus, the owner of the estate, to collect Yul. He’s the boy who’s been working here for the past couple of weeks.’
‘
I know who Yul is. The only one here with a clout of sense. He’s up the face over there. And you’re taking him on, you say? Pity – he’s a good worker.’
Sylvie followed the direction of his pointing finger and saw a figure clinging to a high rock face. He crawled into a crevasse, wedging himself with his legs braced while he hacked at the thick ivy.
‘Can you call him down, please?’ she asked. ‘Magus wants him back immediately.’
‘We wondered if he’d send word. Where’s he to then?’
Sylvie jerked her head vaguely back in the direction of the hills behind her.
‘He’s with the horses,’ she said. ‘They don’t like all this noise. We’re in a hurry. Don’t make Magus wait, will you?’
‘Wouldn’t want to do that! I’ll get the lad down then. Jack won’t be too happy losing him, but if Magus says so …’
Watching Yul slither down the rock face like a pale lizard was an amazing sight. He was caked in stone-dust, his long hair white and stiff, and he could have been anybody.
‘Your time here is over,’ said Sylvie simply. ‘I’ve come to take you home.’
The dusty figure nodded, his chest rising and falling rapidly but his chalk-white face as impassive as a mask. Only the deep smoky-grey eyes that bored into hers with such intensity betrayed any emotion. He emptied his pockets of tools and unstrapped the heavy belt that held more tools, handing them to the Portlander.
‘Be seeing you then, lad,’ said the man.
Without a word Yul turned away and strode out of the quarry, Sylvie close behind. They walked very fast and she struggled to keep up. Yul noticed and stopped, taking the heavy backpack from her and slipping it over a shoulder.
