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Authors: Andrea Spalding

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BOOK: Dance of the Stones
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The chief shaman lifted the horn from her shoulder and blew. “Behold, the last Sarsen Stone,” she called in a high clear voice.

THUD! A log dropped across the Moon Entrance. Men grasping braided ropes leaped over the log, straining and pulling to keep the tension on the lines. The gray end of the Sarsen edged slowly into the Circle.

Hewll crossed his fingers and spat, making the ancient charm for luck, as inch by inch the stone moved forward.

The Rollers and Pullers worked in teams, carrying logs from behind to be laid once more before the stone. The logs rolled on the ground and eased the stone forward. Men took over from men, keeping the massive ropes taut and another log ready. The slow steady momentum must not stop. Those at the front grunted, strained and pulled. Those at the back pushed and coaxed with heavy wooden levers.

The onlookers cheered them on.

The stone edged across the Circle toward the hole.

The fire blazed in celebration.

“All that remains now is the perfect drop,” whispered Hewll to his neighbor.

The Sarsen teetered over the pit, then shook the ground as it fell on the icy ramp and plunged down to bury its end perfectly in the center, crushing the mistletoe.

Hewll yelled with delight. He turned to the Pit Makers and they slapped each other on the back.

The dance changed.

Ropes were harnessed to the top of the stone. The Pit Makers, Rollers and Pullers joined forces to gather up the logs and thrust and brace them beneath the angle of the stone. Hewll threw himself into the work using a large wooden lever.

Inch by inch the stone moved upright.

The sun began its descent.

Women brought more fuel. Soon the fire blazed brighter than the setting sun.

Shadows lengthened and still the people toiled.

At last the shaman's horn blew.

The stone stood.

*   *   *

Once more an uneasy feeling distracted Owen. He drew back into his hawk body and looked again at the stone beside him. The mist at its base bubbled and boiled.

Ava, what's happening to the wraith? It seems angry
.

Ava sighed.
It is angry. It wants to disrupt the ceremony
and destroy my power.

Can it do that
? asked Owen anxiously.

It will try.

*   *   *

Hewll rose and leaped into action. “Dig,” he yelled.

Grasping white bone shovels made from oxen scapula, he and his team began to refill the pit. They worked long into the winter night. Finally the stone stood firm. The Circle was complete.

Hewll and the Pit Makers stood together on the rim of the gigantic ditch. “Rejoice!” shouted Hewll. “Our picks and shovels have raised a sacred stone; any lesser job would defile them. Let them keep their memory of triumph. Tomorrow we will hunt an ox and deer and make new ones.”

“AYE!” shouted his fellow workers. They tossed their antler picks and bone shovels high in the air. The tools turned, catching gleams of firelight before falling into the darkness of the ditch.

Men, women and children rushed between the stones and held hands to make their own circle — a circle inside a circle. The horn blew, the shamans chanted and the people lifted their voices and sang.

Light and Dark, Dark and Light,
Sun by day, Moon by night . . .

Hewll grasped Ulwin's hand and they joined a dance that wound between the stones. The song quickened. The dancers moved faster. They whirled and swirled until, “The stones, they dance with us,” Ulwin cried.

The horn sounded again.

The dancers reeled dizzily to a stop. Silence fell.

The chief shaman pulled a leather bag from inside her tunic and held its treasured contents aloft.

A small circlet of twisted silver strands glinted in the firelight. A white stone embedded in the front glowed like the moon.

The people fell to their knees.

“Since time uncounted we have protected Ava's circlet,” shouted the chief shaman. “But look your last, People of the Hawk. Look your last, People of the Deer. Tell your grandchildren, so they can tell their children's grandchildren, of the day we passed our treasure to the Sarsen Stones. Their memories are as long as Earth herself. Wind will not fell them, rain will not wear them, sun will not burn them and the moon will watch over them. When the People of the Hawk and Deer are gone, the Sarsens will stand to protect Ava's circlet forever.”

The chief shaman motioned for Hewll to step forward.

The second shaman reached for an antler from his crown and handed it to Hewll.

They walked into the second small circle. The shamans lit a ring of brands, then pointed to a spot on the ground in the center. Hewll knelt and with the antler's tip scraped away loosened dirt. He exposed a flat rock and pried it up. A small slab-lined cavity was revealed.

The chief shaman held the circlet up to the moon and murmured a blessing.

Hewll trembled in awe, his eyes riveted on the circlet. He sighed as the chief shaman dropped it in the skin bag. She placed the bag inside the small pot held out by the second shaman, and he placed the pot in the cavity.

“Who bringeth the water?” asked the chief shaman.

An apprentice lifted a small gourd that hung from a cord around her throat.

“Blessed be the water from the stream that doesn't run, for it giveth life,” murmured the watching tribes' people.

The chief shaman plucked a feather from her helmet, dipped it in the gourd and shook droplets over the cavity.

Hewll replaced the slab.

Both shamans sprinkled a handful of earth over it, then Hewll refilled the hole and stomped on the ground to firm it.

Again the chief shaman dipped her feather in the flask and sprinkled water.

Hewll gasped. As the drops hit the ground, grass grew and hid the scar in the earth.

“You all bear witness,” chorused the shamans, their voices breaking the silence.

“We all bear witness,” replied everyone softly.

“Reveal and die.”

“Reveal and die,” the people promised.

The tribes' people held hands and made a circle, a human circle around the small stone circle.

“Let the Circle keep its secret while stones stand and hawks fly,” everyone shouted, then chanted, “Ava, Ava, AVA, AVA.”

Hewll pointed in amazement. He'd spotted two watching hawks.

The largest bird spread her wings, left her stone and circled above them.

“AVA! AVA! AVA! AVA!” the people roared as the hawk's black shape appeared against the moon and circled above them before disappearing into the night.

*   *   *

Owen shifted uneasily in his hawk's body. His concentration had broken when Ava left his side. He was tired and cold and could no longer see with Hewll's eyes. He ruffled his feathers, moved his feet and wished that Ava would return.

The cold seeped into his bones. Gradually Owen realized that this wasn't just cold from the weather, but a deadly cold coming from the mist at the base of the next stone. He peered down.

A wild boar had left the forest and was snuffling for mushrooms near the Circle. The wraith enfolded its mist around the boar and disappeared — absorbed into the boar's body.

Instantly, the boar's eyes gleamed red. It snorted angrily.

Owen watched in horror as the boar charged between the stones. With his last remnants of strength, he reached out to Hewll one more time.

*   *   *

A sense of foreboding filled Hewll. He stared around the Circle, but nothing seemed amiss. All was quiet for the final blessing.

Then a terrible snorting erupted as a wild boar, tusks glinting wickedly in the firelight, entered the Circle. Its angry eyes searched for a victim.

Children screamed and hid behind stones. Women gathered up infants and dragged back the elders.

The chief shaman turned. Her glittering mask attracted the boar. It charged.

A fleeing figure stumbled and fell. The boar gored her leg. Ulwin screamed and twisted to keep her belly from the pointed tusks.

Hewll ran to the fire, pulled out a burning brand and thrust it into the boar's face.

“Crawl away,” he yelled to Ulwin.

“I can't,” she shrieked. “Its tusk is caught in my cloak.”

Squealing with terror and anger the boar tried to retreat.

Its cloven hooves trampled Ulwin. She screamed again.

Hewll jammed the blazing brand into the boar's eye and tugged at Ulwin's cloak. The hunters were closing in to help, but no one wanted to loose a spear while the girl was entangled.

“A knife,” called Hewll. A tusk grazed his arm. He thrust the burning brand forward again.

The shaman threw her sickle and Hewll sawed at the twist of cloth. It parted and he staggered backward, pulling Ulwin with him.

The hunters rushed forward. They skewered the boar in the neck and belly and yanked it up on its hind feet. The chief shaman retrieved her sickle and slashed the boar's throat.

Ulwin's weak cry of triumph was echoed by the crowd.

*   *   *

Owen could stay inside Hewll no more. He huddled, retching, on the stone, and watched the faint wraith mist rise from the dead boar's mouth.

Unseen by the tribes' people, the stone beside Owen quivered. The earth at its base yawned open. The stone spun quickly on its axis, creating a vortex, a whirlpool in the ground. With a silent cry of pain and defeat, the wraith was sucked beneath the earth. The hole closed. The wraith was banished.

A shout drew Owen's attention again to the Circle. The hunters had removed the boar's head and were stripping meat from its bones.

Children rushed forward and grabbed the head. They tossed it one to the other and paraded it around the Circle for all to see.

“Stuff its wicked mouth,” shouted Old One Eye. “Show it ain't going to worrit and terrorize us no more.” He threw a dried apple to the children. Laughing, they wedged it between the teeth. The children paraded the head again as the crowd hooted with glee.

Sickened by the scene, Owen barely noticed the snow falling or the icy wind growing in strength until he was finally blown off his stone. Snowflakes swirled around him. The people blurred, the firelight vanished, the stones disappeared. The roaring blizzard tossed Owen like a feather in the wind.

HELP . . . AVA!

Fly, Owen
.

I can't.

You can, I'm here; I'm always here
.

Strength flooded Owen's body. He flapped his wings and beat by beat rose above the storm. Far below was a whirlpool of white flakes, but here the night sky was clear, the stars bright. Beside him was Ava.

Side by side they circled. Faster and faster they flew. The universe whirled.

You've taken a long journey, Owen,
said Ava.
Thank
you. Now you can rest.

Owen closed his eyes and spiraled down into the comforting velvet blackness of sleep.

6.
SWING YOUR PARTNERS

“Ava, Myrddin, I am uneasy.” Equus pawed the sky restlessly.

“Chantel has sensed an evil presence near Ava's stones.”

“The wraith is gaining strength again,” said Ava.

“Gaia's elementals are stirring,” rumbled Myrddin.

“More will stir the closer the Dark Being gets. How close is
she, Equus?”

“The shadow falls across at least a quarter of the Milky
Way.”

“Do the humans not see it?” asked Myrddin.

“They see only clouds.” Equus sighed. “Maybe it is better that way.”

“No . . . they are unprepared.” Ava's voice was sharper
than usual. “If they understood, they could try to conquer the
despair and hate the Dark Being brings. Instead they will never
know why suddenly they are fighting one another.”

“Do the children know they may be attacked?” asked
Myrddin.

“I have warned Owen about the Dark Being, but told
him we will protect Gaia by letting her claim the tools,” Ava
said unhappily.

“And so we shall, though at dreadful cost.” Myrddin
sighed. “The earthly elementals must be carefully watched.
Though many will keep the balance, some make much
trouble.”

Ava drew herself up and spread her wings. Her fierce
beauty shone. “You are right, Myrddin. I must warn Owen
that they may have to do battle with the wraith. The stones
have subdued it for so many centuries that I had discounted
it, but the wraith could be dangerous as it gains strength. I
showed it to Owen, but I will explain further.”

“I have hopeful news,” said Equus. “The oldest child,
Holly, senses Old Magic. The Mother Tree has spoken to
her.”

Myrddin's face showed his relief. “The new dawn has
stirred more than Ava's stones. The supporters of light are
rallying.” His lips parted in a rare smile. “So the oldest child
heard the Mother Tree without our help. Well, well, well! I
have great hopes for her.”

BOOK: Dance of the Stones
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