Magus of Stonewylde Book One

by Kit Berry

  She squeezed his hand and leant against him. She was exhausted, the events of the last two days almost too much to contemplate now they were safely home.

  ‘Whereabouts will you sleep?’ she asked, looking around the huge circle of trees. ‘Let’s get the blankets out for your bed now, and then I really must go home. We have to be up so early tomorrow.’

  Yul led the way towards the dark shape of the largest tree and Sylvie stumbled after him. They spread the blankets on the soft, dry floor of earth beneath the spreading branches. Under here it was much darker, all sounds muffled by the dense foliage that reached down to the ground, making a sheltered haven all around them. Sylvie checked he had the green tunic ready for the ceremony the next morning, and the little bottle Mother Heggy had prepared for him.

  When all was done, they straightened and faced each other. Sylvie felt unexpectedly awkward. She shook with fatigue from the long walk there and back, and the excitement of the daring rescue. She trembled, too, from the sudden awareness of being alone in the moonlight with Yul, in the intimacy of the tree’s sanctuary.

  ‘Come here, Sylvie,’ he said softly. She stepped forward shyly and he enfolded her in his arms. She smelt his herbal scent and laid her cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beating. He brushed the top of her head with his mouth and shuddered. He was as taut as a bow string, his body lean and hard against her as he held her. They stood like this for some time, enjoying being close to one another at last.

  ‘I feel so happy when I’m with you,’ whispered Sylvie, looking up at him in the darkness. She could just make out his face. ‘You make me feel, for the first time, that I truly belong.’

  ‘You’re the most magical person I’ve ever met, Sylvie,’ he murmured. ‘When I’m with you I feel special, like I’m part of something greater.’

  She snuggled her face into his soft shirt, wanting to be this close for ever. She felt his fingers, gentle but sure, running down the length of her hair. Then he touched her forehead and traced around her eyebrow and cheekbone. She knew his hands were damaged from the stone quarry but his touch was delicate. His fingertips whispered across her closed eyelids, her nose, and then found her lips.

  With a gossamer touch he explored her mouth, the fine arch of her upper lip, the soft fullness of her lower one. Her lips tingled at his touch; his sheer gentleness set her on fire. Without thinking, she kissed his fingers as they caressed her mouth. He groaned and started to pull away from her. In a fluid and spontaneous movement, she reached up and pulled his head down to hers, her lips finding his like interlocking pieces of a puzzle.

  As she felt his mouth on hers, the world spiralled dizzily around her. Everything else – the darkness, the moon through the branches, the silent Village across the Green – faded away as she dissolved into him. She clung to him and he crushed her in a fierce embrace. The kiss, soft and yet so desperate, seemed to last an eternity. Nothing else would ever matter quite so much again.

  They pulled apart, breathless and trembling, and stood facing each other. Their lips were on fire, crushed and tingling for more. For the first time ever, Sylvie understood what all the fuss was about. In the moonlight filtering down through the tree, Yul saw her teeth gleam as she smiled. He smiled back, his heart hammering in his chest with elation.

  ‘What tree is this?’ she whispered. ‘This place where we had our first kiss?’

  ‘The yew,’ he replied softly, running a reverent hand down her silky hair, feeling her delicate shoulder blades beneath, adoring every tiny piece of her. ‘The tree of death and rebirth. The tree of the phoenix, of regeneration. I feel as if part of me has died tonight, Sylvie, gone forever. And something new has been born in its place. I’ll never be the same person again.’

  ‘Me neither. It’s a Midsummer’s Eve enchantment. Everything around us seems charged with magic.’

  ‘Sylvie, we must be careful. We must keep this guarded and secret.’

  He pulled her to him again, wrapping his arms around her. She felt him shaking, and thrilled at his passion for her.

  ‘You’re so precious to me,’ he whispered, clinging to her tightly as if he’d never willingly release her. But after a while she drew away from him, even though she wanted only to stay in his arms.

  ‘I’d better go, Yul. It must be very late.’

  He caught her hand and raised it to his cheek, pulling her back. She saw his eyes glint in the moonlight, burning like stars.

  ‘Sylvie … I want to kiss you again. Just once more. Please, Sylvie …’

  Under the ancient yew tree the old magic was strong. The silver moon peered through the branches at the boy and girl, locked together in their desire for each other. Neither could break away for the kiss was deep and sweet, the stuff that dreams are made of. Their passion crackled like phoenix flames around them as they kissed, entwined and forged them in a bond of bright new love. Finally they pulled apart. Yul raked a hand through his curls, his chest rising and falling fast.

  ‘You must get back, Sylvie,’ he said unsteadily.

  ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘It’s just … I can’t bear to leave you. I want to be with you all the time, but it could be ages till we can see each other alone again.’

  He gazed down at her, his eyes blazing. The moonlight was brighter now, pouring moonbeams through a gap in the branches. He could see her face clearly in the silver light, her eyes glowing with their own magical beauty.

  ‘I love you, Sylvie,’ he said softly. ‘We belong together, you and I.’

  She reached up and brushed her fingertips over his face, feeling the bones and hollows. Her heart filled with tenderness for him, a rush of emotion so deep she wanted to cry. She thought of the boy she’d watched digging the garden in the spring, angry and secretive, trying to hide his shameful injuries. She remembered the evening she’d found him sitting alone on the stone bridge, wrapped in his loneliness and misery. But now – his darkness had found her brightness. Something between them had ignited and he was transformed.

  ‘I love you too, Yul,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll always love you. We’ll be together one day, I know it.’

  He smiled in the shadows of the yew’s branches, the moon silvering his glossy curls.

  ‘It started today, on Summer Solstice Eve. Do you feel it, Sylvie? And tomorrow … tomorrow’s the day when the sun stands still in the sky and everything changes. I don’t know how, but our lives are on the cusp of change. Our destiny has begun to unfold, just as Mother Heggy said it would. Tomorrow will be magical.’

  Sylvie walked wearily up the track leading out from the Village. It was a fair distance to Woodland Cottage, and her legs were stiff and aching. Her heart still thrilled from the burning kisses under the yew tree, the passion and magic seared on her memory. She wondered what she’d done till she loved Yul, what had filled her life before this blazing certainty had taken hold. She knew he was right; tomorrow everything would change, but her worry was that it might be for the worse. When Magus discovered she’d brought Yul back from the quarry, what would he do? She couldn’t face the thought of Yul suffering any more.

  She jumped as a sharp scream rose from the trees beside the track. A fox barked and there was a flutter of wings as something flew up from its roost in fright at the brutal disturbance. The curved moon and brilliant starlight lit the way ahead dimly. Sylvie wished she were home in her bed. She, along with everyone else in the community, must be up again at first light and was now so exhausted she could barely drag her throbbing feet on.

  She heard another sound behind her and turned fearfully, imagining some wild creature emerging from the woods. Her heart leapt in alarm as she recognised something infinitely more dangerous: the unmistakable form of Magus approaching. She considered hiding amongst the trees but realised he must have seen her on the moonlit track.

  ‘Blessings, Sylvie!’ he called as he drew closer. She turned and waited for him, her insides shrinking with dread. They fell into step together.

  ‘What on
earth are you doing out so late on Solstice Eve?’ he asked. ‘Everyone else is asleep in their beds.’

  ‘But not you, Magus.’

  ‘No … I’ve just walked someone home to the Village. We stayed up at the Circle after the ceremony. I hope you enjoyed it there tonight, although it was nothing compared with what’s to come tomorrow. The Summer Solstice is such a powerful festival! The Earth Magic is at its brightest and best. It must be something to do with the position of the earth in relation to the sun. I love the energy I get from the Solstice every year.’

  He was silent for a while, clearly feeling contented and at ease. Sylvie prayed that he wouldn’t ask further questions.

  ‘So why are you up so late? Where’s Miranda?’

  ‘At home, I expect.’

  ‘Is she?’ Then his voice changed suddenly, taking on a hard note. ‘Sylvie …’

  ‘Yes, I’ve been with Yul,’ she said quietly. ‘I brought him back from the quarry.’

  He stopped dead and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. In the dim light, she saw his eyes glitter.

  ‘You did what?’

  She gulped. His hand was like a vice on her arm, digging into the bones.

  ‘You said he could come back for the Solstice! You said the only reason he wasn’t coming home was because you were too busy to fetch him. You said if I could drive I could collect him myself! So I walked there and I brought him back. You said it was alright, Magus! He’d taken his punishment. He’d done his two weeks’ labour.’

  He relaxed his grip slightly and glared down at her. In the silence of the night she heard his breathing as he struggled to control his fury.

  ‘I can’t believe you did that! How dare you take matters into your hands! It wasn’t your place to decide when he’d had enough.’

  ‘But you said—’

  ‘I know what I said. But you should never have done that. Where is he now?’

  ‘In the Village. But Magus, it wasn’t his fault! I told him you said it was alright. I had a hard job persuading him to come with me. He was so worried about disobeying you.’

  ‘And so he bloody well should’ve been worried! How dare he come back without my permission?’

  ‘He thought he did have your permission. Please don’t be angry with him.’ Her voice was thin with fear. ‘It was all my doing. I had to fight to make him come back and it’s me you should be angry with. If you’re going to punish anyone, please punish me and not him.’

  She felt the lessening of tension as he slowly calmed down. Then he sighed and released her arm. He began walking again and she tentatively fell into step beside him.

  ‘You’re brave; I’ll give you that, Sylvie. You knew I’d be furious, didn’t you?’

  She nodded, glancing up at his strong profile.

  ‘I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stand him – or any Stonewylder – suffering alone up there and missing the festival. Please don’t take it out on him. He said he never intended to disobey you again.’

  He laughed at that.

  ‘I should think not, after what he’s been through. So it’s you I should punish, is it? What a shame, when it’s your birthday tomorrow and I’ve already bought you a lovely present.’

  ‘Have you? I thought you didn’t give presents at Stonewylde.’

  ‘We don’t. But this is something special – a dress for you to wear tomorrow at the evening celebration. A moongazy dress for a moongazy girl. You’ll be fifteen tomorrow and you’re turning into a beauty, Sylvie. You’ll sparkle in the dress I’ve chosen for you.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you. Thank you, Magus. And I’m sorry for making you angry.’

  They’d reached the small path that led to Woodland Cottage. Magus stopped, taking both her hands in his and gazing down at her.

  ‘Don’t ever defy me like that again, Sylvie. I’ll forgive you this time but don’t think you’ll get away with it in future.’

  ‘And you won’t punish Yul for coming back?’

  ‘Not if he keeps out of my way and doesn’t cross me again. And not if you promise to have nothing more to do with him. No secret meetings, no clandestine assignations. You know it’s against our principles here, relationships between Villagers and Hallfolk. Everyone else keeps to the rules and so must you. Is that a deal?’

  ‘Alright,’ she said quietly. ‘But you must leave him alone.’

  ‘Agreed. And now you’d better get to bed. See how light the sky is? I love the Solstice! You’ll see how magical it is at the sunrise ceremony. Come here, Sylvie.’

  He pulled her closer.

  ‘What?’

  ‘A goodnight kiss. A birthday kiss for your magus. Remember it’s my birthday tomorrow too.’

  Still holding her hands, he bent and brushed her lips with his, lingering for a second. She shuddered, and thought suddenly of the kisses she’d shared with Yul less than an hour ago.

  ‘There’s something different about you tonight, Sylvie,’ said Magus, peering at her in the silvery darkness. ‘Your energy’s altered. You’re changed somehow.’

  ‘It must be the Solstice magic,’ she replied quickly and extricated herself, backing away from him. ‘Goodnight, Magus! See you in the morning.’

  The sound of birdsong from the oak woods around the Circle was overwhelming, filling the air with a joyful dawn chorus. Many people were arriving; dozens of children came up the Long Walk with their parents, everyone whispering in hushed tones. Yul had no trouble mixing in with a group and arriving in the Circle amongst them. In the pearly-grey twilight everyone seemed cold and half asleep, for it was so very early. He made his way over to the enormous unlit bonfire; it was the woodsmen’s job to light and supervise the fire and he knew he’d find them all there.

  Old Greenbough’s craggy face lit up when he saw Yul. The tough old man hugged him brusquely in a completely uncharacteristic gesture of affection.

  ‘Eh, am I glad to see you back, young Yul!’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘I been worrying and worrying about you. Are you alright, lad?’

  ‘I’m fine thank you, sir,’ grinned Yul, delighted at the warm welcome. Many of the men greeted him quietly but with gladness, and he tried to avoid the painful back slapping. After the harsh indifference of Jackdaw and the men at the quarry it felt good to be amongst friends again.

  ‘You turned up at just the right moment, Yul, because we got a problem on our hands. We must light the Solstice Fire soon but there’s no one right to do it. We’re all too heavy or too old, so ‘tis your job this year, boy.’

  Yul’s heart leapt at this. ‘But, sir, I—’

  ‘I was going to ask you all along but then I thought you’d not be here. Thank the stars you’re back! You must be the Herald of the Dawn, Yul, and I can’t think of anyone better to do it. Here, put the sun robe on quick – there ain’t much time.’

  The heavy golden robe, embroidered with pure gold thread and countless shiny sun symbols, was pulled on over his tunic. The high stiff collar fanned up at the back and framed his dark head. The long robe fitted perfectly.

  ‘See, here in this pocket is the lighter,’ said Greenbough very softly, as the Circle was in near silence awaiting the sun rise. ‘Climb up through the centre of the fire and wait on the platform with the lighter ready. Keep your eyes fixed on the horizon, lad. You’ll be the first one to see the sun appear. That instant you must light the torch. You know the words to say? You know what you must do with the torch?’

  Yul nodded, his heart beating fast at the thought of the task ahead. He’d be the key figure in opening the ceremony. He’d watched and taken part in this ritual for as long as he could remember and knew every stage of it inside out. But he’d never dared hope that he’d be chosen as Herald of the Dawn. It was the ultimate honour.

  ‘Right, then. Just check the lighter … good. Up you go, lad. Goddess be with you!’

  Yul squeezed through the gap in the branches that formed the frame of the fire, and found the hollow centre. A roughly-made wooden ladd
er stood there, which would burn when the fire caught hold. It was strange inside the great bonfire; being enclosed in a wooden cage and knowing there were hundreds of people outside waiting in silence. Yul felt a stab of panic. What if he missed the sun rise?

  He quickly began to climb the wooden rungs but his foot caught in the robe and he slipped. His heart pounded and his hands shook; he made himself calm down and started to climb steadily. He reached the top and stepped carefully through the narrow opening onto the small platform, just large enough for one person. He looked over the towering stones towards the north-east where the sky was salmon pink. No sun yet.

  Yul breathed a sigh of relief and then checked; here was the torch, secure in its bracket. The brazier was stuffed full of bark and lichen that would catch quickly, and he could see the thin dry branches leading from the brazier into the main part of the fire. All was as it should be. He took the lighter from his pocket and gripped it firmly, ready for the moment.

  He then glanced down and gulped at the sight below him. There were hundreds and hundreds of people packed into the Circle and spilling out beyond, and every face was upturned and looking at him. Every man, woman and child at Stonewylde came to this ceremony and there were many extra Hallfolk who’d returned especially for this, the most popular festival of the eight.

  The horizontal Altar Stone lay right across the Circle and Magus stood behind it, wearing a grand gold robe similar to his own. His arms were upraised and he faced away from the bonfire. He was chanting softly and then the drums started, at first a gentle rhythm but slowly building in intensity. Yul looked again at the dawn horizon. It was even brighter, the sky blooming into a glorious mess of gold and coral pink against a backdrop of pure pale blue.

  Down on the ground, Sylvie had gasped when she’d seen a dark, curly head emerge from the top of the fire. Surely it couldn’t be Yul? It was hard to make him out clearly. Although the sky was increasingly light now, the Circle was still shadowy and he was high up and facing the horizon. But the straight, proud back and tilt of his head told her it must be him. This was the Yul of old, not the miserable, cowering figure she’d rescued from the quarry.