Magus of Stonewylde Book One
Page 35
She saw him reach out; there was a tiny spark and then a flare of flame as the torch caught hold. The mass of people stood silently and expectantly, waiting for the Herald of the Dawn to make his announcement. At that moment there was a sudden flurry of black feathers above and a great crow landed on Yul’s shoulder. The drums almost missed their beat. A collective gasp escaped from the crowd at the unexpected sight of the crow now perched on the golden figure so high up above them.
‘The sun has risen! The sacred flame is lit! Folk of Stonewylde, rejoice!’
Yul’s voice was resonant and strong, echoing around the space inside the Circle. He took the torch and brandished it aloft, his golden robe catching the glint of firelight. Then he plunged it into the brazier and there was a rush of light, a sizzling of blue and green fire. The crowd chanted in unison.
‘The Solstice Fire is lit! The sun joins in sacred union with Mother Earth! Bright Blessings to all!’
The flames in the brazier burned voraciously as the drumming grew faster and louder. Then orange flames appeared, licking around the coloured ones and forming a crown of gold on the great pyramid of wood. Holding the torch upright, the golden figure started to descend through the centre of the fire. The crow flapped off and flew across to perch on one of the standing stones.
Inside the fire Yul was having trouble getting out. Under normal circumstances he’d have practised the tricky manoeuvre wearing the long robes. As it was he almost fell and dropped the torch before working out a way to balance it and hold on, while climbing down in the restricting robes. As the flames crackled above him he shook with excitement. The sensation as he’d stood there, so high up, and called across the Circle with all the folk of Stonewylde listening and watching, had been out of this world. He’d loved leading the ceremony, knowing everyone was focused on him. The unforeseen presence of the crow had made it even more spectacular.
Yul reached the ground and squeezed through the channel in the wood, trying to keep the flickering flames of the torch away from his robes and hair. The smell of burning wood surrounded him, as smoke penetrated down through the bonfire from the unseen flames high above. He could see Greenbough beckoning, showing him the way out of the huge structure, waiting to set fire to the base the minute he was out.
Suddenly Yul was free and safe in the open air. He lifted the flaming torch high and began to move towards the Altar Stone. There was a clear path before him. Magus had climbed onto the stone and now chanted with the throbbing drums, his arms upraised. He faced the beautifully painted Summer Stone, the one aligned to this special sunrise. The sun, although risen over the horizon, had yet to penetrate the Stone Circle and it was still shadowy inside. As Yul walked steadily across the diameter of the circle the crow flew down and settled once more on his shoulder. He smiled; Mother Heggy was here in spirit if not in body, and she’d found a way to ensure that all knew of her presence.
Sylvie held her breath as Yul crossed the circle. The sky was now rosy and bright and the Solstice Fire blazed fiercely. She could see Magus clearly as he stood on the Altar Stone. He was an impressive figure; tall and strong, his pale-blond hair gleaming in the pink light, his handsome face solemn as his deep voice wove in and out of the drums. His robe was beautiful, shot with gold thread and glimmering with hundreds of tiny golden beads and mirrors. Like Yul’s, it had a high winged collar that framed his face.
Sylvie watched the great man as Yul passed her and headed for the stone. Magus turned and tilted his head down to watch the figure moving towards him. She saw his eyes widen as he realised who it was bearing the sacred flame of the Solstice Fire. He stared transfixed at the approaching Herald of the Dawn; the boy whom he’d intended to keep safely out of the way at Quarrycleave, the boy who must never cross him again. The boy he thought he’d broken.
Yul registered the shock in Magus’ eyes too. The master’s chanting faltered and stopped; the drumming increased to cover it. His mouth was a hard line clamped tight and he frowned, his face like thunder. Yul knew he should be worried but he felt a rush of power and lifted his chin. The arm holding the torch never wavered despite the strain. With the crow on his shoulder Yul unhurriedly approached the man standing so high and majestic above the crowd. He climbed the wooden steps onto the Altar Stone, turning so that he and Magus now faced each other.
Yul hadn’t expected the surge of energy that shot up through his body, nearly knocking him off the stone. His eyes gleamed with exhilaration and he met Magus’ gaze squarely and unfalteringly. The man’s face was dangerously pale and his dark eyes smouldered. Yul didn’t flinch, his gaze cool and grey. They made a stunning pair: the tall man with glittering robe and burnished blond hair, his granite face frozen, and the boy, smaller and slighter but somehow similar in build, his robe plainer but still beautiful, long dark hair framing his chiselled face. A king and a young prince.
Yul stood with one arm outstretched holding the flaming torch, the glossy black crow perched on his opposite shoulder. The first bright sunbeam cleared the top of the Summer Stone and blazed onto them in a piercing spear of light. Their robes shimmered and sparkled and their skin glowed gold. The wild drumming climaxed into an explosive crescendo as the shaft of sunlight penetrated the Circle, and then fell silent.
‘The Solstice sun marks the rise of the Holly King and the fall of the Oak King!’ cried Yul, his voice ringing out in the hush, the familiar words tripping off his tongue. ‘I, Herald of the Dawn, pass on the sacred living flame to show the continuity of the never-ending cycle.’
Magus, glaring into Yul’s eyes, held out his hand to receive the torch.
‘I, Magus of Stonewylde, accept the sacred living flame,’ he replied. ‘May the sun’s energy—’
The unthinkable happened. As Yul handed the torch to Magus, a bolt of power cracked up through the stone in a mighty green flash as if flying from the earth itself. Yul jolted as it shot violently through his frame, exploding into every fibre of his body with molten force. Taking the torch from Yul, Magus somehow fumbled as the energy leapt from the stone. His fingers loosened their grip and jerked in spasm. The torch fell, hitting the Altar Stone with a loud and distinctive thud, and rolled to the ground below. In the shocked silence there came a collective intake of breath from hundreds of throats as the torch lay quenched on the earth. The living flame was dead.
In the stillness the crow let out a massive caw, making everyone jump. It flew up onto the nearest standing stone where it perched, fixing Yul with a jewelled eye. Without thinking, he sprang off the stone to the ground below and seized the torch in one hand. The other hand flicked open at the smoking end of it and a green-blue flame shot from his fingers, reigniting it. He held up the torch exultantly and a great cheer echoed around the vast arena. Yul climbed the steps again and continued the words that had died on Magus’ lips.
‘May the sun’s energy fill this hallowed circle of stone! May the folk of Stonewylde be blessed with life force and powerful magic! Bright Solstice Blessings to all!’
He turned to Magus, whose eyes glittered with dark hatred. Yul glowed with green energy, the Earth Magic pulsing around him in an aura of power. Magus had nothing. Yul smiled, his grey eyes dancing with light. Once again he held out the burning torch to Magus who snatched it from him.
‘You’ve stolen my energy!’ he hissed. ‘You’ll pay for this, boy!’
‘The Oak King is dead,’ Yul replied softly. ‘Long live the Holly King.’
The throng of people cheered again as Yul stepped down from the Altar Stone. He caught Sylvie’s eye and understanding flashed between them; Mother Heggy had spoken true. The crow flapped away out of the great Circle and back to his mistress. The children crowded excitedly around the bonfire to throw their wicker men into the blazing Solstice flames, symbolising the death of the old king.
Yul and Sylvie smiled at each other, their eyes blazing out happiness and their spirits singing with hope. This was the beginning and all would change from this moment! The Earth Goddess had
chosen. The magic of Stonewylde had found its new heart.
Acknowledgements
My thanks and acknowledgements written for the original, self-published edition of this book still stand. So, continued and deepest thanks to:
Clare Pearson, my first agent, for your vision and attempts to teach me that less is more.
My three sons George, Oliver and William for your constant love and support over the years.
My friends and family, many of you in Dorset, for your kindness, enthusiasm and encouragement.
My father for lending me the money to start my publishing venture.
Rob Walster of Big Blu Design for the original covers.
Mr B – for everything.
Now that Stonewylde has been taken on by Gollancz and this new edition published, I must add some more sincere thanks to:
My readers – the thousands of you who bought and loved the original books. Deepest, most heartfelt thanks to each of you for your loyalty to me and enthusiasm for Stonewylde.
My family and friends again – for such constant love and support from you all. I’m so very lucky.
Piers Russell-Cobb, my literary agent, for being totally brilliant.
Gillian Redfearn, my editor, for your excellence.
My sister Claire of Helixtree and Rob Walster of Big Blu Design for the beautiful Stonewylde logo.
Mr B – once more, for making it happen for me.
A Gollancz eBook
Copyright © Kit Berry 2005, 2011
All rights reserved.
The right of Kit Berry to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in Great Britain in 2011 by
Gollancz
The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Orion House
5 Upper Saint Martin’s Lane
London, WC2H 9EA
An Hachette UK Company
This eBook first published in 2011 by Gollancz.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 0 575 09884 8
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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