Dance of the Stones (6 page)

Horse, I want to tell you about something evil. When
we walked around the Circle, one of the stones made me
feel bad, as though something was looking at me and hating me. It was horrible.
Chantel shuddered.
But no one else
could feel it.

I will ask Ava. The stones are not evil, but as our Old
Magic strengthens, so does the Dark Magic. Light and Dark,
Dark and Light. Ava will know what hides near her stones.
Until we know what the evil is, tell the others to stay away.

I will. But why was it only me that felt it?

You are the Magic Child. You worked with me and
are more aware and sensitive to enchantment. As the other
children work with us, their senses will expand too.

Holly can sense things. An oak tree talked to her when
we were in the forest.

Chantel felt Equus stiffen.
One of the sacred oaks?

I think so. Holly said it was the Mother Tree.

What wonderful news you bring me, Chantel. Thank
you. Let us ride the wind and celebrate!

Chantel leaned forward as Equus leaped for the stars. They galloped along sunbeams, cantered through clouds of stardust and jumped over galaxies. The winds of time lifted Chantel's curls and whispered wordless songs in her ears. Finally she drooped with exhaustion over Equus's neck.

Sleep and dream, child. Sleep and dream. Call if you
need me. I will not be far away.

The voice faded. Chantel slept.

*   *   *

She woke with a start. A squeaking sound and chuckles were coming from the patio. She leaned up on one elbow and stared.

A giant wicker basket on wheels stood outside the French doors.

Holly poked her head into the bedroom. “Good, you're awake. See what we found in the antique shop across the road.” She giggled again. “It's called a Bath chair. We've talked the owner, Mrs. Bates, into renting it for the week.”

Chantel burst out laughing. “A bath chair! It won't hold much water!”

“That's what I said,” chuckled Owen. “But Mrs. Bates said they were first made in the city of Bath.”

The Bath chair was really an old-fashioned wheelchair made of woven cane. Crimson leather cushions padded the seat, and the wicker webbing rose over it in a hood. It had three wheels. Two large wheels with rubber tires supported the back. A metal handle rose from the chassis and curved up around the hood. A smaller wheel in the middle of the long leg rest at the front had a shaft and steering mechanism for the occupant to guide it.

“Go on, sit in it. We push, you steer.” Owen chuckled. “But watch it. The hood is so big we can't see where we're going.”

Chantel hopped over and wiggled in. There was lots of room for her cast to stretch out comfortably. She grasped the steering bar. Owen and Adam leaned on the handle.

Despite squeaks, the Bath chair moved smoothly forward.

Owen and Adam pushed and Chantel steered down the path, along the side of the house and across the gravel courtyard. They paused at the road. It was empty. They bowled out into the street.

“Faster!” called Chantel.

The boys grinned at each other and started to jog.

Passersby stared and someone whistled.

The boys propelled the Bath chair at a spanking pace down the street. A hedge rose in front of them. Chantel suddenly realized that the road came to a dead end. At the last minute she turned the front wheel and they swung round the next corner. A teenage girl holding an ice cream appeared in front of them.

“STOP!” yelled Chantel.

Adam dug in his heels and Owen yanked on the brake. The Bath chair screeched to a halt, but not before the leg rest bumped into the back of the teenager's knee and knocked her off balance.

“Idiots!” the girl shouted, her arms flailing above her head in an effort to stay upright. The ice cream shot from the cone, flew through the air and landed in her hair.

Owen and Adam muffled snorts of laughter. Chantel tried not to chuckle.

Holly cycled up behind them. “Oops,” she said with a laugh.

Then she saw that the victim was the dark-haired teen she had admired earlier. “We're so sorry,” she said. “We were trying out the Bath chair so our cousin doesn't have to walk everywhere with her broken leg.” Holly babbled on and on in an attempt to smooth things over. “Here.” She fished into her jeans pocket and brought out some change. “We'll buy you another ice cream. We're really, really sorry.”

The girl ignored Holly and glared at Chantel and the boys. “Just watch it in future,” she said icily, wiping the mess off her long dark hair with a tissue. She stalked past them.

Holly flushed.

Adam struggled to control himself but made the mistake of looking at Chantel.

“Bad hair day,” Chantel said.

All three cousins howled with laughter.

“You are so embarrassing,” said Holly. She turned her bike and cycled away.

*   *   *

“We're in this village for ten minutes, and already I'm hearing stories of the mad Maxwell kids,” grumbled Uncle Ron at teatime. “As for that contraption outside, how long do you kids think it will last if you crash into people? You won't be renting it for a week. You'll be paying for it out of your pocket money for years to come. You realize it's an antique?”

“You could have hurt someone,” said Aunt Lynne.

“We'll be careful now we know how fast it can go. It's brilliant though, isn't it, Dad?” said Owen.

“Out!” Owen's father pointed to the patio. “You know the deal. You're not eating inside with us until you find a washing machine.”

“I thought you were joking,” Owen protested.

“The joke's on you, son. You can join us when you smell better.”

Owen grabbed his plate and stomped into the kitchen.

Adam and Chantel exchanged glances, sank down in their chairs and got on with their spaghetti.

“Actually, the Bath chair was a brilliant idea,” Uncle Ron said, grinning across at Chantel. “As long as you don't mind riding in it.”

Chantel gave a shy smile and shook her head.

“I'll pay for the rental. Holly, come and settle up with me after tea. Just treat the darn chair with respect. It belonged to Lady Mayerthorpe at the manor. People around here remember her using it.”

Adam gave a snort and jabbed Chantel in the ribs. “Don't get any ideas about being Lady Whatshername,” he whispered.

“Thanks, Dad,” said Holly. “Where is the manor? Is it nearby? Is that why this place is called Manor Cottage?”

“I thought you explored the village this afternoon.”

Holly grinned. “We went round the stones, but other than the chariot race we never got past the antique shop across the road.”

Her father laughed. He pulled several tourist brochures out of his pocket. “I picked up these. One's a map of the village.” He spread it out on the table and jabbed his finger in the middle. “We're right in the center of the Circle. The barns next door are the museum complex. Here's the manor, behind the church at the end of the road. It's also part of the museum complex. The family still lives there, but you can go around the gardens and I think the ground floor of the house is open to the public.” He pushed the other folders across to Holly, then took out his wallet and extracted four plastic tags. “Look after these. They will get you into the museums and the manor as many times as you like, without paying.”

“Dad, you're the greatest.” Holly ran around the table and gave him a hug.

“We can get in the museum free? Great! We can find out more about the Stone Circle,” Owen said as he bounded back into the dining room dressed only in a towel clutched around his waist.

“I see you've discovered the washing machine.” Lynne chuckled. She eyed the towel. “Does this mean you brought only dirty clothes?”

“That's no problem. They'll be clean soon.” Owen was unrepentant. “There's a dryer too.” He grinned at his mother.

“Do you have any washing you'd like me to pop in?”

His mum laughed and made a mock attempt to tweak away his towel.

With a yell, Owen ran back into the kitchen.

Adam and Chantel watched the family byplay.

“I wish our mom and dad teased and laughed,” whispered Adam.

“Me too,” agreed Chantel.

They lapsed into unhappy silence.

*   *   *

The hawk flew out of the trees and circled high over the stones, watching and waiting.

As the sun set, the summer twilight freed the shadows. They lengthened and stretched, hiding where stone finished and ground began. The hawk circled watchfully, for as the shadows gathered, the beings of the night stirred.

This night nothing seemed amiss. A steady stream of bats flew above the Circle, weaving, darting and snatching at insects. They spotted the hawk and circled it in acknowledgment, then returned to their feeding.

The night-prowling wraith emerged.

The hawk stared down.

The wraith prowled around the Circle, searching for the entrance it was always denied. Though its mist seemed stronger and denser, its actions were the same as always. There was nothing to suggest it knew that the Dark Power was approaching.

The hawk relaxed. The wraith had been no threat for hundreds of years. Reassured, she glided to the roof of Manor Cottage, folded her wings and waited for sleep to overtake the chosen child.

4.
CIRCLE MAGIC

“Adam, Adam, are you asleep?” whispered Owen.

It was midnight and they'd been talking for ages, but Adam had fallen quiet in midsentence.

Owen tossed and turned. He was so eager for Ava to contact him that sleep was impossible. He couldn't believe his luck. He was the one the Wise Ones were talking to, not his Canadian cousins and not his older sister. He sat up and pulled back the curtain.

“Come on, Ava,” he whispered. “Where are you?” He pictured her as he had last seen her in the Place Beyond Morning, an imposing half-woman, half-bird, whose beauty made his breath catch. He stared at the stars, willing her to come, until his eyes watered. Eventually sleep won. Owen sprawled back on his pillow, one foot thrust out of the sheets, snoring gently.

The image of a hawk circled through his dreams. She flew closer and closer.

Come, fly with me, Owen
. Ava's voice filled his mind.

In his dream, Owen spread his arms and soared into the air through the open window. “Brilliant!” he laughed. He flew a wobbly course down the road between the darkened houses and experimented, banking one way, then swiftly turning the other. It was wonderful! He had never experienced such freedom. He flapped his arms furiously, tucked in his head and turned a couple of shaky somersaults. Somehow he managed to level out before hitting the ground. “Fan-bloody-tastic!” he shouted. He looked around and saw the hawk hovering above him.

Don't shout
, she reproved him.
It hurts my head. Mind
–
speak. I'll hear you.

Where are we going?
Owen asked as he flew clumsily up to join Ava.

Into the past,
replied Ava.
But first I have much to explain. Come.
She glided to the church tower and perched on one arm of the weather vane.

Flapping frantically, legs making ungainly swimming motions, Owen followed and crash-landed on the roof.

Ouch! This takes a bit of practice.
He rubbed a bruised knee and sat on the edge of the tower battlements, feet dangling.

The stones dominated. They stood, silvered sentinels, forever on guard.

Owen sat, drinking it all in.

What do you see?
said Ava.

Owen waved his arm, almost lost for words.
The stones,
the village, the sky. It's beautiful.

Look again . . . Do you see any veils of darkness?

Owen scanned the landscape.
Like what?

Ava was silent.

Owen looked again.
Only . . .
He hesitated
. . . . a
bit of mist rising near one of the stones . . . and . . .
He shrugged.
a blank bit of sky . . . as though a small cloud
is covering the stars.
He pointed toward the vast sweep of the Milky Way.