Shadows at Stonewylde (13 page)

Yul could still recall the smell of the dew out on the Green and the old yew needles mixed in with the fine, dry soil. He vividly remembered the grainy softness of the earth under their bodies, the seclusion of the great dark dome of foliage, and the magical sight, smell and feel of the girl he loved as they finally came together after waiting for so long. The years had not dimmed the memory in the least. Yul recalled every tiny detail of that passionate consummation so strongly that he groaned aloud and quickly opened his eyes, wishing she were here right now. Then he shook his head impatiently; no, not here in the open with the weather so crisp. She deserved better – only finest linen sheets and goose down pillows for his Sylvie. Only the safe cocoon of softness, comfort and luxury; she must be treated with the utmost care, even though he was still angry with her.

Yul watched the black-robed figures, skull masks in place, slowly shuffling around the labyrinth on the Village Green towards the great wicker dome in the centre. He shuddered, hating everything about the Samhain rituals. He was still haunted by nightmares where he relived the lurching movement of the sledge being dragged inexorably towards the centre of the labyrinth in the grotesque Dance of Death. He still endured horrible flashes from that night of Jackdaw’s leering face, Magus laughing with glee, the funeral pyre so high above him and pale bodies in their white tunics lying motionless beside him as that dark figure stalked the Circle. Yul shuddered again.

Next year it’d all be gone and he couldn’t wait – nor could he wait for Clip to leave. Yul had never trusted him, not since he’d hypnotised Sylvie into submitting to Magus’ torture on the rock at Mooncliffe every month. Yul had no patience with Clip’s weaknesses and vacillations and little respect for him. He’d found it so difficult to hold his tongue while Clip dithered, growing older and vaguer by the year. He resented Clip’s interference and his influence over Sylvie and longed for the day when he would take up the reins of power. Yul knew in his very marrow that this was his destiny, and Clip had blocked it for too long.

He stepped forward slightly from the shadows of the yew tree, absently watching the cloaked figures on the Village Green, fingers drumming against his thigh. He must go into the Great Barn soon to see the children’s Samhain drama. Celandine and Bluebell were both in it, although at four years old, Bluebell’s part was limited to that of an acorn. He smiled, remembering how excited the girls had been that morning. Celandine was part of the autumn wind dance and had been prancing around the Hall for weeks, practising her twirling and whooshing. As magus he must watch and applaud all the children but he wished there was time to return to the Hall first. He was waiting for something important and needed to check his e-mails. Yul tried to put it to the back of his mind; Harold would phone down to the Barn if it came through and Sylvie was right – he did need to sort out his priorities. This was what really mattered; celebrating the festival, not business deals going through.

They’d had the most awful argument on the night of the last Council Meeting. Yul had tried to hide his anger but they knew each other too well for deception and she’d been just as angry with him. They’d hurled accusations at each other and then taken their fight away from their sleeping children to his office downstairs, where it had continued to rage. Sylvie shouted that he was a control freak like his father and had forgotten what mattered at Stonewylde; he yelled that she was as woolly and soft as her father and had no idea how to run their community.

She’d stood, hands on hips, her hair wild about her flushed cheeks and eyes flashing sparks of rage and the row had ended abruptly. Overwhelmed by desire for her, he’d manoeuvred her onto the large sofa and made love to her as passionately as he’d argued with her only minutes before. Her furious protests had been quenched by his greedy mouth and in moments they both knew that her resistance was merely token, and soon abandoned. But afterwards, as their breathing returned to normal and their heated bodies cooled, she’d made it clear that she was still furious about his arrogance at the Council meeting.

‘Remember, Yul,’ she’d flung at him, ‘that Clip could decide to sign it all over to me alone. Remember that before you attempt to shut me out altogether. You may channel the Earth Magic but I’m the heir to Stonewylde, not you. Stop trying to push me out!’

As she’d struggled out of his grasp and adjusted her twisted clothing, he’d been so tempted to fling back an equally nasty retort. At least he still received the Earth Magic, whereas she no longer moondanced and channelled the moon energy. He’d bitten back the cruel words and merely glared at her as she stormed out of the office and up to bed. But she wouldn’t have the final word. Nobody, not even his beloved wife, ever got the better of Yul nowadays.

Unbeknownst to Yul, one of the masked figures now treading the labyrinth on the Village Green was his youngest sister. Flicking a glance at the nine robed teenagers following the white stones of the path, Yul strode round the edge towards the Great Barn where the children were almost ready for their dance and drama. Leveret didn’t notice him either; her eyes were fixed on the narrow path marked by the pebbles and she was fighting waves of nausea that made her sway alarmingly. She’d decided to eat the mushroom before she walked the labyrinth, knowing it could take some hours for the effects of Fly Agaric to reach their peak.

Leveret wished that she could’ve asked somebody’s advice. She knew the mushroom’s effects had three distinct phases: the initial nausea and physical reactions, the dreamy, calm state, and finally the hallucinatory stage. It was during the final phase that she hoped to journey, as her spirit left her body and travelled into other realms, and she wanted this to happen during the afternoon. Then she’d be free to cast her first spell that night after sunset and make contact with Mother Heggy. She thought she’d eaten the dried mushroom early enough but was only guessing at the timings. As she lurched around the labyrinth, Leveret realised she’d made a mistake.

Inside the wicker dome the man in the crow mask chanted to the slow-beating drums, indicating the mats where the youngsters should sit. Leveret’s legs had turned to jelly and she crumpled onto the hemp mat, swallowing the saliva that suddenly filled her mouth. Her stomach was clenching and bloating and the gulps of saliva threatened to boil over like a geyser any minute. Suddenly her face was on fire, burning as scarlet as the cap of Fly she’d consumed. She tore at the mask, desperate for air, but as she wrenched it off she noticed the other teenagers had done the same. Now the crow man was passing around the tiny skull cups of blood. Her mouth flooded again and she started to gag.

‘Drink of the blood of death and rebirth,’ the crow intoned, and everyone put the vessels to their lips. They sipped gingerly, knowing it was only elderberry wine laced with something stronger but still reluctant to swallow the dark, viscous liquid. Leveret gasped for air, unable to drink, but the tall, dark crow put one hand at the back of her head and the other under the cup and tipped it so she had no choice but to swallow. She felt the blood-red juice swirling into the void of her stomach, which started to heave. The others were now lying down whilst the drumming increased in intensity and aromatic smoke filled the tiny space. Leveret fell back and immediately the smoky dome started to spin. She heard far-away laughter and the raucous croak of a crow. The black emptiness spiralled and she was disappearing down into a great maw of nausea, flailing at the sides but falling down, down.

Strong hands jerked her to her feet and she recognised Martin’s voice hissing at her.

‘Behave yourself, Leveret! The others are outside already. Walk the path and think of what you want to achieve this year, and don’t you
dare
spoil this sacred ceremony with any of your messing about!’

She staggered out into the cool, grey light clutching her mask, and walked unsteadily along the coiling path that led eventually out of the labyrinth. She hoped Martin wouldn’t tell her mother or Yul that she’d acted strangely. The nausea had receded and she was relieved to find herself at the exit where another masked person handed her a slip of yew. She hoped to quietly steal away now and make her way to Mother Heggy’s cottage, where she’d curl up on the wooden settle and maybe start the dreaming.

But she heard the cry of a familiar voice and her heart plummeted.

‘Leveret! Come into the Barn with me and watch the Dance of Samhain! ‘Tis just about to start.’

Her mother took her arm and led her firmly inside through the great wooden doors that were flung wide open. Inside, the vast area had been transformed for Samhain and was filled with grinning Jack o’ Lanterns and realistic crows and skulls. The centre of the Barn was clear, with carved tree-trunks standing upright to mark a large circle for the drama.

‘Please, Mother, I don’t feel well,’ groaned Leveret, her stomach beginning to tighten again in spasms.

Maizie peered into her face, noting the moist pallor of her skin and the glassiness of her eyes. She put an arm around her youngest child, tiny underneath her black cloak.

‘You don’t look good, my love. Stay here with me for the drama – Celandine and Bluebell are in it, and Snowdrop and little Edrun, and I promised them I’d watch. When ‘tis over I’ll take you home for a lie-down. You haven’t eaten properly for days but we’ll have to wait until the feast, for you can’t break the fast early, not at Samhain. Just hold tight, Leveret. They are your nieces and nephew after all.’

Leveret closed her eyes and swayed on her feet. The last thing she needed now was to watch some silly little girls prancing around. She didn’t mind Rosie’s children so much but she couldn’t stand Yul’s daughters whom he doted on, exactly as he’d used to dote on her when she was a small girl. Nowadays they rarely spoke and he’d often stride past in the Hall and not even register who she was. Leveret didn’t care; she didn’t even like him anymore.

But now here he was, her big brother the magus, stepping into the centre of the Barn so tall and handsome. Dressed in splendid dark grey robes embroidered with silver cobwebs, a circlet of black feathers and ivy on his glossy curls, he raised his arms and there was silence.

‘Folk of Stonewylde,’ he said softly, so everyone must strain to hear, ‘we’re honoured to watch our children perform their celebration of Samhain. At this festival we say farewell to autumn and greet winter, we look back over the past year and peer into the mists of the new year. At this festival we remember those who’ve passed through the veil into the Other World and send them our blessings. The Samhain Dance!’

There was a roll of drums and he moved to stand beside his wife, dressed in the normal black Samhain robes. She’d change into her special ceremonial attire soon, before the evening’s festivities started. Leveret noticed how Yul’s hand automatically slipped into hers and how he raised it to his lips. The smile she gave him seemed a little tight but then their attention was taken by the arrival of the Autumn Wind, swirling in a golden eddy into the circle. Their eyes were locked onto one little girl amongst the many, her long hair a mass of white curls. She danced beautifully and with complete dedication, gracefully pointing her slim legs and leaping as if she were weightless. Leveret scowled and tried to edge away but Maizie gripped her firmly.

‘Just look at our Celandine!’ she whispered. ‘Isn’t she wonderful? The girl’s a natural dancer. Yul must be so proud of her.’

Half an hour later Leveret could barely stand. She was bored stiff by the Samhain Dance and even the sight of Bluebell dressed as an acorn had only made her smile a little. The tiny, plump girl had looked almost as ridiculous as her soppy parents when she skipped on and sang her daft song with all the other acorns. Leveret’s sickness and flushing seemed to have passed and she now felt incredibly sleepy. All she wanted to do was sit down quietly.

‘The crows are black,’ she said, looking up at the papier-mâché birds that perched and hung everywhere, some moving gently in the warm air raised by the dancing. Maizie frowned, relieved to see the pallor had gone from her pointed face but puzzled by the girl’s air of vacancy.

‘Of course the crows are black!’

‘Their feathers are night’s fingers,’ said Leveret in a sing-song voice.

‘What’s that? You’re looking very strange,’ said Maizie, peering into her daughter’s green eyes and noting her dilated pupils. ‘Go and sit down over by the door and I’ll take you home in a minute.’

Leveret stumbled out of the throng of people and headed for the fresh air. Then she noticed Sweyn and Gefrin lounging near the doors talking to Jay. They were all laughing and she felt a chill ripple over her skin. Jay was as cruel as they were, although most of his aggression was directed at poor Magpie. Leveret imagined Jay pecking and pecking and her mind started to unravel so she turned and wandered in the opposite direction. She meandered through lots of black-robed people and then hit something solid. She looked slowly up the expanse of grey and silver and her eyes met the deep grey ones of her eldest brother, who frowned down at her.

‘What are you up to?’ he asked. ‘Did you enjoy the Dance?’

‘Like the snow enjoys the rain,’ she mumbled.

‘What? That’s a strange thing to say. I’ve been meaning to speak to you, Leveret. I’ve been hearing things that I don’t like.’

‘I understand now about the caterpillar.’

‘
What?
What on earth are you talking about?’

He gripped her arms and pulled her slightly towards him, trying to look into her eyes.

‘The hookah-smoking caterpillar on the mushroom, and the way the girl shrew and grank. Grew and shrank. You know, the door and the glass table.’