Retrieving his piece from under the pillow, Adam butted the two halves together. He could feel a current running between them. He threw on his clothes, tucked the pieces in the pocket of his jean jacket and zipped it shut. Shoes in hand, he tiptoed downstairs and let himself out of the back door.
He slipped into his shoes, ran to the barn and saddled up Mischief. “Come on, girl,” he whispered. “Time for a morning ride.” He led Mischief out of the far door of the barn into the paddock so no one in the house would hear hooves on the cobbles. She let Adam mount without trouble.
They trotted over the grass towards the gate in the far corner.
Adam dismounted, opened it and led Mischief through. The gate squeaked.
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Holly awoke with a start, unsure why. Then she heard the noise again. A distant squeal of metal against metal. It sounded like the paddock gate. She slipped from her bed and looked out of the window.
Adam was on the far side of the paddock gate, trying to mount Mischief.
Holly dodged behind the curtain and watched through a gap. He was too busy coping with Mischief to worry about the noise from the gate. Once again his pony was living up to her name. She danced around in circles. Stuck with one foot in a stirrup, Adam hopped around after her, unable to spring up.
Serves him right, thought Holly gleefully. She tiptoed out of her bedroom and crept into the study.
“Owen, wake up.” Holly gently shook his shoulder. “Ad–am’s up to something. He and Mischief are sneaking out of the paddock.”
Owen sat up. He rubbed his eyes, scratched his scalp and tried to concentrate. “Where’s he going?”
Holly shrugged. “Dunno, but I could make a guess.”
“Wayland’s Smithy,” they chorused softly.
“Let’s follow him.” Owen slid from under the duvet and grabbed his clothes.
“What about Chantel? She can’t ride with her leg in a cast.”
“Okay. I’ll take Batman. You and Chantel come with Harlequin and the pony trap. Dad asked Mr. O’Reilly to clean it up for us yesterday. It’s all ready to go.”
Holly gave a thumbs up and left to wake Chantel.
Owen dressed swiftly and headed downstairs. He paused to scribble a note: “Gone for an early ride along the Ridge–way. We’ll get our own breakfast when we come back.” Leaving the note on the table, he slipped outside.
CCC
Adam rode the lanes, watching for the road to Wayland’s Smithy. He was nervous about Mischief’s hoofs waking people, but he didn’t dare go by the fields as he didn’t know the way.
He relaxed as he passed several racehorses being exercised. The neighbors were used to hoof beats in the early morning.
He wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow. No one had tried to stop him from leaving the farm, and now he was on the correct track. Things were looking good.
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Owen and Batman worked in rhythm. They galloped across a field. Then Batman stood while Owen slid off to unlatch the gate. Batman stepped through and stood again while Owen shut the gate and remounted. Then they were off, racing across the next field.
By the fifth gate their movements had become a fluid dance. Finally they were clear of the fields and on the long woodland gallop that paralleled part of the Ridgeway.
Owen reined in behind a thicket. He and Batman were breathing heavily.
“We must be ahead of Adam,” Owen whispered as he stroked Batman’s neck. “He doesn’t know the shortcuts.”
He dismounted, tethered Batman loosely to a tree and gave him a pat. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.”
He picked his way through the wood until he was within sight of the Ridgeway. Dropping to the ground, he wriggled under a concealing bush and waited.
Five minutes later, Adam and Mischief trotted past.
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“Go fast, Holly,” pleaded Chantel. She was in a blind panic after discovering the loss of her piece of talisman. She clutched the side of the pony trap, willing it to fly.
Holly shook her head. She held Harlequin at a steady trot. “We can’t gallop. It’s dangerous. The trap could hit a bump and overturn. We’re going as fast as we can.”
Chantel subsided unhappily.
CCC
Adam dismounted, rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans and led Mischief into the enclosure of Wayland’s Smithy. He took his time closing the gate and knotting the reins safely up around the horse’s neck. Finally he gathered enough courage to stand between the magical beech trees and survey the bar–row. It looked peaceful and unthreatening in the early morning sunlight. Adam stepped forward into the circle.
Stillness fell, no leaves rustled, no bird sang. Only his heart thumped as he tiptoed across the grass.
The great gray stones loomed before him.
Adam stooped beneath the lintel and peered inside. Tendrils of magic wafted out to greet him.
“Er … Wayland,” he called, his voice thin and uneasy. “It’s me, Adam. I’ve brought the talisman for you to fix.”
A flame flickered deep in the darkness.
“ENTER.”
Bile rose in Adam’s throat. He couldn’t do it. He could not enter that black passage on his own. No matter what the stakes or how hard the magic pulled, his fear of dark enclosed spaces overcame it. He sank to his knees.
A horse whickered and Mischief answered. Adam glanced back.
Owen appeared between the beech trees.
Adam gasped and flung himself into the entrance of the barrow.
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Darkness pressed down, a smothering blackness that made Adam gasp and pant with fear. He fought through it, hand by hand, knee by knee, driven by his need for the talisman.
Finally the passage widened and a pulsing crimson glow gave enough light to see.
Adam rose to his feet and stumbled into a great cav–ern lit by a glowing forge. A gigantic man appeared and disappeared in clouds of smoke and steam as he worked at the anvil. Behind him, half hidden in the shadows, was a red mare.
Adam stopped in shock. He looked around guiltily, but there was no sign of the White Horse.
The blacksmith lifted his face and Adam got his second shock. The face was familiar.
“Mr. S … S … Smythe!” Adam gasped, then clapped his hands over his ears as Wayland’s hammer arm rose and fell, pounding a glowing horseshoe. Steam hissed as he dunked it into a pail of water.
Clasping the horseshoe in long black pincers, Wayland turned to the shadows and the red mare lifted her hoof. Thick yellow smoke obscured them as Wayland straddled her leg and clapped the horseshoe in place.
The acrid smell of singeing assailed Adam’s nose and throat as he watched the magic of fire, water, and iron at work on the hoof.
Wayland slapped the red mare’s rear and she dropped her foot. He peered at Adam through the smoke and gestured towards his anvil.
“LAY THE PIECES DOWN.”
Adam unzipped his pocket and dropped the two gold pieces on the anvil.
“LOOK DEEP IN THY HEART AS I JOIN THE PARTS.”
Wayland scooped the halves onto a shovel and thrust it into the heart of the furnace. After a few seconds he pulled it out, tipped the glowing fragments onto the anvil and lifted his hammer.
CLANG! A sound as if a thousand hammers struck at the same time. A million sparks swirled around the cavern and Adam swirled with them.
He whirled through space and time, seeing snatches of everything happening around him.
Owen was at the entry of the barrow, kicking the stones. Adam laughed.
Holly was driving the pony trap up the Ridgeway. Chantel sat in the back, clutching the sides and peering ahead. Adam smirked, ignoring a twinge of guilt. He’d outwitted Chantel!
CLANG! The hammer fell again. The sparks whirled Adam higher.
Uncle Ron and Auntie Lynne were sharing a pot of tea and reading a note. Fleetingly, Adam hoped they weren’t worried.
He swirled above Mr. Smythe crouched over th
e kitchen table, painstakingly charting the red mare’s crop lines. Guilt tweaked Adam again. He’d found the missing piece of the talisman through Mr. Smythe’s help, and then been rude to him.
The golden sparks danced him away. Halfway around the world he saw his parents sleeping — in separate rooms. His father slept in Adam’s bed.
Adam roared with anger, “Get out! That’s my room!”
CLANG! The sparks circled upward towards an answer–ing roar from the stars.
A silvery net floated in darkness. In it was the dragon.
The dragon was swollen with power. He thrust again and again against the shimmering netting and roared with triumph as one claw finally sliced through and ripped the net apart.
Speechless with horror, Adam looked on as the dragon flew through the sky and plucked Chantel from the pony trap.
“NOOOooo,” yelled Adam. His voice came from the bottom of his heart and echoed through the universe. “Leave her alone. Stop making things bad things happen.”
He was back in the cavern.
Wayland stood beside the anvil holding up the talisman, made whole.
The dragon symbol faced Adam.
Wayland pointed to the furnace.
Adam stared at a vision within the flames.
The dragon leered at them from the top of Dragon Hill, a terrified Chantel in his clutches.
Wayland turned the talisman. The horse symbol appeared.
Wind rushed through the cavern as the White Horse galloped in and stopped beside Wayland. The Red Mare stepped forward to join him.
They too stared at the dragon vision in the flames.
Adam sprinted across the cavern floor and leapt up to pull on Wayland’s arm.
“Stop it. Say it’s only pictures, that you’re making eve–rything happen! Give the talisman to me. I’ll make it stop.”
Wayland brushed Adam off as though he were a fly. “ENTER,” he boomed.
Adam turned.
Holly and Owen scrambled out of the passage and into the cavern.
Wayland dropped his arm and handed the talisman to Adam.
Immediately the cavern filled with whispers. Adam could hear thoughts.
Good. The boy holds the talisman. He feels its power. He will never be able to refuse it now. And I have a hostage. The dragon cackled in triumph. Soon the horse will be banished.
Adam will never save me. What shall I do? despaired Chantel. Her mind cast around desperately for ways to extract herself from the dragon.
This is all Adam’s fault, thought Holly. Thank goodness the horse is here.
Adam staggered as a wave of disgust from Holly hit him. His anger flared.
He staggered again as the sheer wordless force of Owen’s anger was directed towards him. He returned it.
In the flames the dragon laughed and flexed his muscles.
Poor humans. They do not understand how it all works, murmured an unfamiliar voice in Adam’s mind. Adam swung around and looked uncomprehendingly into the sad eyes of the Red Mare.
Only the thoughts of Wayland and the White Horse were veiled.
Adam held the talisman up and called aloud, “Stop! Stop everything.”
The whispers stilled.
“The talisman is mine,” shouted Adam. “I brought the halves to Wayland and asked him to join them.”
“THE TALISMAN IS THINE,” Wayland agreed.
“But I don’t want bad things to happen.” Adam’s voice trembled.
“YOUR HEART SWAYS THE TALISMAN’S WAYS,” said Wayland.
Owen opened his mouth to say something cutting, but Holly stood on his foot. She gestured towards Adam.
Once more Adam was riveted by the vision in the flames.
Adam had read the hate in Owen’s mind, and returned it. Immediately the dragon had grown. The same thing had happened when he’d reacted angrily to Holly’s disgust. The dragon had grown.
“It really is the hate, isn’t it?” Adam frantically tried to make sense of it all. “Hate and anger make the dragon grow!
The dragon said it, but I didn’t understand. He feeds on anger and hate … and the talisman …” Adam struggled to understand the connection. “It sort of strengthened the link between us, so he could feed better?”
The White Horse nodded. The talisman works in many ways. It will magnify emotions.
Adam looked anxiously into the flames again.
Clutching Chantel in one claw, the dragon was digging viciously into the scar on Dragon Hill with the other. A small dark hole appeared. He roared with triumph and began to widen it.
“All emotions?” Adam’s voice grew shrill. “I’d have to stop thinking! But brains think. That’s what they do!” He swung around to the horse, his eyes wide. “But you don’t get angry, do you? You’re the only one who can use the talisman properly!”
Adam turned back to the vision in the flames as the dragon finished widening the hole and dangled Chantel over it.
“Stop hating,” he yelled at Holly and Owen. “It feeds the dragon. Try doing the opposite.”
Adam scrunched up his eyes, shut out the dragon’s mind and concentrated on his little sister. He remembered the day she was brought home from the hospital and how her tiny hand had grasped his little finger. He remembered trying to teach her to throw a ball. She had chuckled and staggered towards him with the ball clasped to her chest. He remem–bered how she’d watched at the window for him to come home from school. He realized how scared she was, and sent her a stream of love and affection. He felt Owen and Holly do the same. He opened his eyes and stared anxiously into the flames.
The dragon had deflated. He was shaking his head as though to clear it and his movements seemed weaker.
“Chantel!” screamed Adam. “The horse will save you.” He pressed the talisman to the forehead of the White Horse. The talisman glowed. Equus leapt from the cavern and disappeared.
Everyone watched the vision in the flames.
With a roar, the dragon dropped Chantel into the pit. As she fell, the White Horse appeared in the vision. He leapt into the opening and sprang from it with Chantel clinging to his back. He landed on the edge of the plateau and turned to face the dragon.
The dragon reared back on his haunches with a great cry.
Horse and dragon locked eyes. The talisman gleamed on the horse’s forehead. Nothing happened.
The watchers in the cavern held their breath.
Finally, the dragon cringed, belly to the earth, and began to edge backward, inch by inch. He retreated without a sound as Equus stepped delicately forward, one hoof at a time.
“Look at Chantel,” whispered Holly.
The Magic Child had one arm raised and one finger pointed in the ancient sign of banishment. Silhouetted against the sun, her features were invisible. The slow-moving tableau looked like the picture of St. George and the Dragon.
The tip of the red tail reached the rim of the pit. It slipped over the edge. His eyes still locked with the horse’s, the dragon’s body slid slowly after his tail and silently disap–peared.
Equus tapped the rim seven times with one hoof. The white scar healed over.
“What, no fight?” gasped Owen.
“It was a mind fight.” Adam’s voice was full of awe. “Yes!”
He punched the air in triumph and grabbed the massive iron pail of water from beside Wayland’s anvil. With superhuman strength he flung the contents into the furnace. “Take that, Worm.”
The water hit the fire, dowsed the flames and plunged them all into darkness.
A great guffaw from Wayland filled the cavern.
The laughter boomed. The children cowered, buffeted by the sound. They clapped their hands over their ears and rocked to and fro in agony.
The laughter lessened. “Humans always surprise me,” said Wayland with a chuckle.
A flint struck a spark and the great bellows blew the furnace back to life. Still chuckling, Wayland turned the bellows towards the children. A burst of air tumbled them down
the passage. A third wheeze from the giant’s bellows shot them out of the mouth of the barrow to sprawl on the grass in a daze.
Chantel was there to greet them. She hobbled over the grass and threw her arms around her brother.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SEVEN FOR A SECRET
It was seven minutes after midnight.
Chantel, Adam, Holly, and Owen were sitting on Chan–tel’s bed, whispering. The curtains were open. They could see White Horse Hill clearly in the distance.
It was a magical night. The moon bathed the valley in brittle light.
“I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. My body’s all jumpy,” Owen said.
“Mine too,” said Chantel.
“The air’s electric.” Adam rubbed his hand over his hair and his red curls stood on end.
It was seven minutes after midnight, at full moon.
“The world is holding its breath,” Holly murmured.
“It’s waiting for the horses.” Chantel tilted her head and listened. A smile lit up her face. “They’re coming … I hear them.” She swung her cast off the bed, hopped to the window and leaned out over the ledge. The other children followed.
It was seven minutes after midnight, at full moon, in the seventh month.
The Great White Horse galloped along the Milky Way. The Red Mare and her foal followed. They landed on White Horse Hill and gazed at the children hanging out of the window. The Red Mare nudged her foal forward. The foal skittered and danced around her.
“Aaah,” said the children.
“I’m glad you’re here again!” said Chantel, aloud this time.
We’re always here, replied the Great White Horse, his words unspoken, but now all four children could hear his thoughts. The talisman glinted on his forehead. Come. It’s time to ride the wind.
Chantel and Adam found themselves on his back. Adam grasped his little sister around her waist and hung on for dear life.
Owen, with Holly behind, grinned from the back of the Red Mare.
The White Horse struck the ground seven times with his hoof. Hind muscles bunched and the two horses leapt for the stars, closely followed by the foal. They galloped among moonbeams, jumped over sunsets, hurtled through galaxies and finally cantered across the crystal sands in the Place Beyond Morning.
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