Dance of the Stones (10 page)

Holly rolled on her side and stared at Adam. “You didn't fail; you were really strong. You overcame the dragon when it was twisting your mind. I don't think I could have done that.”

Adam's body relaxed. “I thought I'd screwed up.”

“Oh, don't be stupid.” Holly grinned and gave him a friendly punch. “Work on your inferiority complex.”

Adam grinned back. “Okay, okay, but it would be easier if I had something to do.”

“You can think of a way to get me to Savernake Forest.”

Adam wrinkled his forehead. “Bus?”

“I checked the timetable in the village. The country bus doesn't run very often, and it only goes to Marlborough, not to the forest.”

“How far is it? Could you go on your bike?”

“Adam Maxwell, you are brilliant. It can't be more than fifteen miles away.” Holly paused. “If you could get out the bike and helmet as though you're going to ride around the village, then pass it to me, Mum won't guess.” Holly started to tick items off on her fingers. “I'll need a map . . . and some money . . . and a water bottle . . . and lunch.”

Adam frowned. “Shouldn't you tell someone where you're going?”

“I've told you, haven't I?”

“Guess so.”

“If I'm not back by teatime, you can send out a search party.”

“I'll help on one condition.”

Holly raised an eyebrow. “Condition?”

“I go with you!”

“You're mad. There'll be a row.”

“They'll be even more furious if you go on your own.”

Holly pursed her lips. “True.” She turned a puzzled glance at Adam. “Why do you want to stick your neck out?”

Adam hunched his shoulders. “There's nothing better to do, and I guess I don't feel part of this Circle stuff.”

“I know what you mean. I've been obsessed by the Mother Tree, but I couldn't figure out where it fitted in with Ava and the Circle.” Holly chewed her lip. “I keep remembering how the dragon sucked you in with Dark Magic.” She looked guiltily at Adam. “I wondered if I was making the same mistake. I'm so glad the Forest Magic and Circle Magic are linked with mistletoe. Forest Magic feels right.”

“Deep down, I always sensed the dragon was wrong,” admitted Adam.

“Deep down, I know I've got to help the Mother Tree,” said Holly.

“Then let's both go to the rally to support her and bring back some mistletoe for Ava,” urged Adam. “Chantel and Owen will cover up for us.”

“All right,” said Holly.

Adam slapped her shoulder. “Race you to Manor Cottage.”

He took off before Holly could scramble to her feet.

*   *   *

The wraith flowed restlessly around its earthy cell, thrusting misty tendrils in cracks and fissures, searching for weakness. It felt stronger. Last night's dark had brought the strange power again. Not full power though. The wraith withdrew its tendrils as though they burned. The summer sun was so strong it warmed the earth and made the darkness shudder.

Dimly the wraith remembered a time when it had roamed freely in the light. Twice it had melded with other beings and disrupted the Circle's power. Once as a boar it had tried to destroy the rituals, and once as a human it had almost succeeded in damaging the stones. The wraith shuddered, remembering. The stones had struck back. One had fallen, crushing the human the wraith had inhabited.

The wraith loathed humans and hated the stones and the Wise Ones. It wanted the binding power of the circlet, but couldn't penetrate inside the Stone Circle. The last two nights, though, had brought a wicked hope. Its strength was growing again, and it knew how to use it. It would meld with a child. In the past, the stones had caused the death of an animal and a human adult, but they would never hurt a child.

*   *   *

Chantel looked small and lonely as she sat among the devastation of family breakfast. Her broken leg rested on the seat of the chair next to her and she gazed into space, chewing slowly.

Owen flicked a crumb at her and vanished into the kitchen with a pile of dirty dishes.

Chantel smiled slightly and took another nibble of her toast.

“What's up?” Owen reappeared to collect the last few plates.

Chantel pushed hers over to him. “Nothing.”

“Must be something. You look like a wet Whit week.”

Chantel looked blank. “What?”

“It's a saying. There's a Whit Week holiday in spring, and it always rains, so everyone is miserable.”

“Oh,” said Chantel.

“Well, that was a success!” said Owen. He picked up the remaining dishes and vanished again.

Chantel sighed, lowered her cast and clumped into the kitchen to join him.

Owen was up to his elbows in soapsuds, piling clean dishes haphazardly on the draining board.

Chantel picked up a tea cloth and began to dry.

“Thanks,” said Owen. “I decided if I wash up today, I'll be off the hook tomorrow.”

“Good plan,” said Chantel.

They worked together in silence.

Owen flicked some suds at Chantel. “Come on,” he said. “What's up? You might as well tell me. Your face is a dead giveaway.”

Chantel gave an embarrassed laugh. “Nothing really . . . except . . . I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“Yesterday . . . at the stone where I felt ill. It wasn't sunstroke. I know it wasn't!” Chantel's soft voice was unusually forceful.

“So what was it?”

“Something that hated me. Something that wanted to hurt me.”

“Like what?” persisted Owen.

Chantel gave a little shrug. “Maybe…I wondered…” Her voice dropped lower and lower until Owen could barely hear. “What if it's that wraith thing that Ava told you about?”

Owen tipped the basin of dirty water down the sink and dried his hands. “Mum,” he hollered, “we're going out to the Circle, okay?” Without waiting for the answer, Owen opened the back door. “Come on. We'll find out.”

“How?” Chantel hung back.

“You've not got sunstroke now, have you?”

Chantel shook her head.

“So you could walk toward the stone and see if the feeling crept up on you again.”

Chantel didn't move.

“You a scaredy cat?”

Chantel jutted her chin. “No. But it made me feel bad. Besides, Equus said we should stay away until we know for sure what it is.”

“How else do we find out if it's sunstroke or not?” Owen was reasonable but unbending. “All you have to do is start approaching it.”

Chantel sighed. She looked at Owen with haunted eyes. “If it makes me feel awful, promise you'll help me get away? Promise?”

“Promise. Want to take the Bath chair?”

7.
THE NAMING DAY

Owen pushed the Bath chair across the road and Chantel steered expertly through the field gate. Neither noticed the hawk perched in the shadow of the post office chimney pot.

Adam sprinted over. “Where are you going?” he asked breathlessly.

“To conduct an experiment.” Owen grinned. “Want to come?”

“Adam Maxwell, that wasn't a fair race,” grumbled Holly, running up behind them.

“Got to be quick off the mark,” said Adam, laughing. He turned back to Owen. “What's the experiment?”

“It's me who's doing it, if you don't mind.” Chantel's voice came from inside the Bath chair.

Holly and Adam peered around the hood. Chantel was sitting bolt upright against the crimson leather cushions, looking offended.

Holly chuckled. “You look like the queen.”

Chantel grinned, lifted her hand and gave a couple of royal waves. She turned serious again. “We're going to the stone where I had sunstroke. I think the wraith Owen saw in his dream might have made me ill. I'm going to walk toward it and see if it makes me start to feel bad again.” She sighed. “Owen says this is the best way to find out.”

“I don't get it,” said Adam.

“If it was sunstroke, nothing will happen,” said Owen. “She's not ill now.”

“What if it's not the wraith but something else weird? How will you know?”

Owen shrugged. “At least we can prove something's there.” He trundled the Bath chair toward the trouble spot with Holly and Adam helping. “Ava said the wraith couldn't enter the Circle, but prowled around the outside, so we'll stay on the outside of the stones like we did before.”

They stopped one stone away.

Chantel climbed out of the Bath chair and wedged her crutches under her arms. “Promise to help me if I feel ill.”

“We will,” the others chorused.

One step at a time, Chantel moved forward.

Nothing happened.

She took several more steps but felt nothing even though the stone loomed ahead. She looked back at the others. “Maybe it
was
sunstroke.”

“Told you,” crowed Adam.

She took a couple more steps, still nothing.

Then she stepped into the stone's shadow.

It was as though she had fallen into a cold black vortex. She uttered a strangled cry, her knees buckled, her hands lost their grip on the crutches and she started to collapse
.

“Grab her,” yelled Holly.

“Watch her leg,” warned Adam.

The three cousins pounced and caught Chantel before she hit the ground. They dragged her back to the adjacent stone and propped up her head and shoulders.

Holly knelt and patted her cheeks. “Chantel, what happened?”

“Say something. Open your eyes,” encouraged Adam. “Come on, Chantel.”

Chantel's head moved sluggishly from side to side and her eyelids flickered. Her mouth opened and shut as though she was trying to say something, but no sound came out.

*   *   *

The cold black void swirled around her. Not the clean crisp coldness of ice, but a cold emptiness. Tendrils of blackness grasped at her heart and mind, squeezing out good thoughts and filling her with hate.

She struggled to keep an image, a word, something that meant hope and rescue. The word “Equus” floated for a second, but she couldn't remember what it meant. She opened her mouth to shout the word, but no sooner had the thought flickered than the coldness clamped around her heart even harder. She drifted into nothingness.

Then out of the black emptiness came a dark sense of purpose. She must enter the Circle and destroy the hidden power.

*   *   *

“She's just fainted . . . hasn't she?” asked Owen.

“Something's wrong.” Adam's voice wobbled. “We should have believed her. Now we've done it.” He leaned forward and held her hands. “Chantel, Chantel, can you hear me?”

Chantel raised her head and her eyes opened.

Adam dropped her hands in shock and Holly and Owen moved back with a gasp of horror.

Chantel's eyes were black instead of green, and they gleamed with malevolence. Like an automaton, she attempted to rise, but was stopped by her leg. The black eyes traveled downward and rested on the cast as though seeing it for the first time. Her mouth sneered. She rolled onto her hands and knees and, dragging the broken leg behind her, began to crawl between the stones to enter the Circle.

“The wraith's got her. Stop her entering the Circle!” yelled Owen. He gripped Chantel's ankle.

Holly reacted instinctively. She snatched the acorn from her pocket and flung it at Chantel. “Lhiat myr hoilloo!” she yelled. “To thee as thou deservest!”

The acorn hit Chantel's cheek and shattered into fragments that hung in the air. A faint green light flickered over her body. The black eyes closed and her head slumped. She exhaled and a puff of gray mist left her lips. She sprawled on the ground.

The acorn shards collected around the mist, gathering and enclosing it. Whole again, the acorn fell to the grass and rolled toward Holly's feet.

“Did . . . did . . . that really happen?” whispered Adam. His face was ashen.

Holly only nodded. She stared down at the acorn but made no attempt to pick it up.

Owen gazed at Chantel, his mouth open. “That thing . . . it . . . it . . . ”

Chantel's eyes flickered. “The wraith . . . I . . . has it gone?” Her voice was a tiny whisper and she shivered. She lifted her head, and her eyes opened. They were clear green.

“Please . . . can we sit inside the Circle, in the sunshine?”

No one stirred. They stared at her.

The freckles stood out against Chantel's white skin, and dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes, but everyone's gaze was held by the small red mark on her cheek left by the acorn.

“Where's the . . . the . . . th th . . . thing?” stammered Owen.

“In that.” Holly pointed toward the acorn.

Still no one moved.

Finally Adam stepped forward and helped Chantel up.

His arm supported her waist as they walked slowly around the stone and sat down again.

Holly and Owen joined them.