Heart of the Hill (11 page)
Adam's voice strengthened. “You need me, Myrddin. You can't get your staff back. You can't do Earth Magic. Andâ¦and, you can't face Vivienne or the emissary from the Dark Being without it.”
“It is a conundrum,” admitted Myrddin.
“Come on, Myrddin, get real,” pleaded Adam. “We've come this far by working together. Why stop now? I'll walk the Labyrinth and grab your staff before Vivienne and the emissary discover you.” He pointed to the Glastonbury Cup. “I'll take the cup with me if you think it's here for a purpose. But don't try to stop me, it won't work!”
Owen and Chantel stared at Adam.
“I thought he was terrified of the Labyrinth,” whispered Owen.
“He is,” whispered Chantel. “He's being brave.”
Myrddin rose from the table and enclosed Adam in a bear hug. “Thank you, Magic Child. Your commitment is magnificent. I will consider your offer. We have a few hours grace, for the Tor's Labyrinth should be walked at sunset. Soon I will decide.”
Adam slumped back down in his chair.
Myrddin patted his shoulder. “Come, there is something we can do that does not involve danger. You should all become acquainted with the mystical city of Glastonbury as soon as possible. It is steeped in Earth Magic and may offer you unexpected help. We will walk into the town center and check the Glastonbury Cup's usual home.”
Holly raised her head; her eyes glittered. “Its usual home?”
“The museum in the center of Glastonbury.” Myrddin led the way back into the house, found a pen and paper and scribbled a note.
Holly thrust the cup deep into her jacket pocket.
With a bit of luck she would be able to drop it in the museum unseen.
Myrddin placed the note on the bottom stair where Mr. Smythe couldn't miss it.
Gone to show the children the
Lake Village Exhibit. Back soon.
He led the children through the garden to a back gate opening onto the slopes of Wearyall Hill.
Though the rain had quit, it was muddy trudging over Wearyall Hill.
The children hiked in a rambling line, scrambling up the slippery path and over the grassy hump behind the house, then dropping down the ridge toward Glastonbury's town center. They were silent, all with their own thoughts, but their eyes swiveled between Myrddin, striding ahead in his guise as Mervin Green, and the distant Tor, whose mysterious presence dominated the valley.
“Hey, look at this!” Chantel pointed to a small scraggy tree. Fluttering ribbons attached scraps of paper to its branches. It was the only tree on the hillside, and the thin branches were twisted and gnarled with exposure to the constant wind. Iron railings surrounded it.
Holly slipped her hand through the railings, and remembering the Mother Oak from their last adventure, she gently stroked the trunk. “Hello, magic tree,” she said softly. Her hand stilled. She closed her eyes and cocked her head. “It's an ancient Hawthorn,” she said.
Chantel stared at her cousin. “You're really into tree stuff, aren't you? Do all trees speak to you?”
Holly withdrew her hand. “Not really ⦠Just the magic trees. âOak, Ash, Yew, Beech, Hawthorn, Holly and Ivy, magic trees all,'” she quoted. “The Mother Tree told me about them when I was in Savernake Forest. When I stroke the bark I feel the sap rising, and the tree talks to me ⦠but not in words.”
“Well done, Holly,” rumbled Myrddin. “This is the ancient Glastonbury Thorn. One of the few symbols of Old Magic still known in your modern world. It flowers not in the summer but at the mid-winter Solstice, around Christmas. Its magic is hard to ignore.”
“What's with the ribbons and papers?” Adam fingered a note hanging from the branch nearest to him. “âShower blessings on Kathy,'” he read aloud. He chose another. “âAngels of Light, stop the fighting in Iraq.'” He wrinkled his forehead. “Weird. Who thinks a tree can stop wars?”
“Believers in Old Magic, often called New Agers, gather around Glastonbury; many of them honor and respect the power of the Blessed Thorn and ask for its help,” rumbled Myrddin again. “If we are to continue, you must seek them out, join with them and use their strength.”
The children exchanged glances.
“Oh, boy, not hippies again,” muttered Adam. He'd been deeply embarrassed by the New Age ceremonies held in the Avebury Stone Circle during the last adventure.
Myrddin swung around to Adam.
“Adam, are you still compelled to seek my staff?” he asked.
Adam nodded, but his breath caught.
“You understand you must tread the Spiral Labyrinth alone. You must enter the Portal, face Vivienne and demand entrance to the Crystal Cave alone. I cannot accompany you.”
“I know, I know,” said Adam. “Don't rub it in.”
Myrddin held up his hand for silence. “Then be willing to accept help from others with different beliefs from yours. Can you do that?”
“I ⦠I guess so,” Adam stuttered, surprised by the gentle scolding. “So ⦠so ⦠you are saying I can walk the Labyrinth?”
“Yes, child. I have reconsidered. I will use your help, for there is no choice. I must regain my staff.”
Owen, Chantel and Holly gave subdued cheers.
“Okay,” said Adam. He chewed his lip and stared at the Tor. Helping Myrddin felt right, but it didn't stop him from being scared of the Labyrinth and Vivienne.
Myrddin swished his cloak. “While I am human I am powerless, my fires are dampened, but human I'll remain, so I can advise you without detection.”
Adam gave a lopsided grin.
“
You
are not powerless,” said Myrddin, reading his mind. “As Magic Children you have tools. Be not too proud or stubborn to use them. They will keep you safe.”
Owen sniggered. “Yup, I'm the warrior â I'll protect you!”
Adam jabbed him with an elbow.
“You can also use Earth Magic,” continued Myrddin, ignoring the by-play. “I believe the Glastonbury Cup has come your way for a purpose.” Myrddin leaned forward and whispered something to the Thorn. A branch arched toward him. “Here is more help.” Myrddin snapped off a Y-shaped twig and gave it to Adam. “Keep this with you.”
Adam took the twig. How could a bit of wood do anything? He needed real magic, not a bending tree! He needed something to zap Vivienne or some kind of shield so he could walk the Labyrinth, grab the staff and get out without any messing. He unzipped his backpack and shoved the twig inside.
Holly frowned. She itched to stretch out her hand and take a twig for herself, but she didn't dare. Not without the tree's permission. She stroked the trunk again, but it only recognized her presence. Her eyes filled with tears. She turned her back to everyone. Myrddin waved his arm across the landscape. “Adam, learn of the Earth Magic in this place. The Tor is obvious, and now you have the Thorn. I will also show you the Red and White Springs; the mixing of their water makes a powerful potion. Gaia has only one place filled with more magic than this valley and its Tor.” He pointed toward the northwest. “Over the sea in Mannanin's Isle, where the Lady sleeps.” He pointed toward the town again. “Glastonbury and its Tor was the first place in England where Old Magic was found. The remnants of Old Magic still pulse from the ground, and many people who live here are sensitive to it. You must find them, for they will help you while you seek for my staff.”
“How am I going to do that?” Adam burst out. “I can't just walk up to strangers and ask them if they sense Old Magic.”
Myrddin laid a hand on Chantel's shoulder. “That's your sister's task.”
“It is?” Chantel's eyes grew large.
“Chantel has the gift of song. Song bonds people. It will band believers together to combine and strengthen the power of Old Magic. Her singing will help you, Adam.”
Holly and Owen grinned as Adam gave a snort.
Chantel flushed. She'd guessed Adam would react rudely to her singing. She hung her head and wondered how her voice was supposed to band people together.
Myrddin laid a hand on Owen's shoulder.
“Owen, your role as yet is unclear, but we will need your quick wits to deflect the enemy's attention and protect us in difficult situations. I do not yet know how or why, but you will be called upon.”
Owen gave a nod.
“As for Hollyâ¦,” Myrddin paused. “Earth Magic is seeking you. Listen to her voice. Come, time is short.”
Abruptly, Myrddin set off down the hill again, toward the sprawling town below.
Their thoughts whirling, the children followed.
After pushing his way through the throngs of festival goers clogging the main streets, Myrddin led the children up a side street, Wellhouse Lane. It was peacefully empty. On one side a high brick wall contained an ancient stone fountain. A carved lion's face spurted water into a brass cup attached to the basin by a long chain. “The Red Spring,” said Myrddin. “It rises inside the Tor. Drink for protection.”
“From that manky cup?” Holly wrinkled her nose.
Myrddin ignored her, picked up the brimming cup and held it out.
“No,” said Holly. “Wait. We have to do it from this.”
She checked that no one was around and pulled the Glastonbury Cup from her pocket.
Everyone gasped and turned to Myrddin.
“She is listening to Earth Magic,” he said. “We will take the risk.”
Holly thrust the cup into the water and drank deeply.
She passed it to Adam, who sipped and passed the cup Owen. Owen wiped the rim with his sleeve, sipped and passed the cup to Chantel. She did the same and held the cup toward Myrddin.
He bowed, drank and returned the cup to Holly.
She emptied and rinsed it in the stone basin before replacing it in her pocket.
“Come. Now we sip from the White Spring,” said Myrddin. He crossed the road.
Opposite, a tiny stone house with the sign
White
Spring Café
was built into the cliff. Beside the house, a flagged area containing two small tables and a tree was squeezed between the cliff face and the road. The tree, festooned with ribbons, was watered by a small stream that trickled between the flagstones and the tree's roots.
“There's another magic Thorn,” said Chantel as they joined Myrddin.
A young woman in a long swirling skirt and a tie-dyed halter-top came out of the café to greet them.
“May five seekers drink the water from the White Spring?” Myrddin asked.
“Darn it,” said the young woman with a grin. “I was hoping you were coming for lunch. No one's explored this way because of the rain.”
Adam and Owen looked hopefully at Myrddin, but he shook his head. “We don't have time today, my dears.”
“Then drink, and be blessed.” The young woman pointed to a tap in the café's wall. “The water we use is piped from the White Spring and is free to all.” She returned inside.
Holly produced the cup. Once again everyone drank.
Calling thanks to the young woman, Myrddin led the way back to High Street and into an imposing Elizabethan building known as the Tribunal Hall.
A small, agitated woman pounced upon him.
“Have you heard about our burglary, Mr. Green? The Glastonbury Cup's gone. Isn't it terrible? Such a mystery! No one can understand how it was stolen.” The tiny woman with short tightly permed hair danced around Myrddin, dogging his steps up to the second floor, home of the Lake Village exhibit.
“The police were here all day yesterday,” the woman twittered. “They're totally baffled. Nothing was damaged. The case wasn't broken. The cup just disappeared. Poof! As though it was magic!”
Adam's eyes brimmed with laughter. Chantel and Owen hid grins. Holly glared at them. The cup felt like a lead weight in her pocket.
“It's baffling, Mrs. Rolston,” grunted Myrddin.
He strode through the exhibit room and stared into a central glass case. The children peered around him. In the middle of the case was a white cube with nothing on it but a small label:
Iron Age bronze bowl with beaded
rim. Known as the Glastonbury Cup. Approximate
date
200
years
bc
. Found during the
1985
Lake Village
excavation at Meares.
