Shadows at Stonewylde (16 page)

‘Here’s to the old fart leaving once and for all!’ cried Gefrin, spilling as much cider as he swallowed and not caring one bit.

‘I wish I could bob his head in the apple water right now!’ roared Sweyn. He gulped at his tankard and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Bloody old fool, interfering like that. How dare he? She’s my sister and I’ll do what I like to keep her in line, as Mother asked. Who does he think he is interfering with family business? She was only getting a little wet, after all.’

‘We’ll get her another day,’ said Gefrin, grinning with anticipation. ‘She’ll wish Clip had left well alone by the time we’ve finished with her.’

‘Count me in too,’ said Jay, swaying on his feet. ‘I can’t stand her. She looks at me all funny with those nasty green cat’s eyes and it gives me the bloody creeps. There’s something weird about her and she’s always hanging about with that half-wit cousin of mine, which ain’t natural. Magpie’s crazy and so’s she. If she needs sorting out I’ll help.’

They raised their tankards to this and downed what was left. As they waited by the barrels for their turn to refill, they noticed Swift across the floor.

‘Hey, Swift! Over here!’

The slim blond youth somehow heard them over the hubbub and made his way towards them. He was in his last year at school and was clever and quick, having grown up with the run of the Hall where his father worked, seeing and hearing a great deal. He was the mastermind behind many pranks and escapades and lads like Sweyn, Gefrin and Jay treated him with respect.

‘Come and have another tankard with us!’ Jay yelled over the noise. Swift looked at the flushed and bleary-eyed trio and smiled his acceptance, but whilst they downed their cider, he merely sipped.

‘We were just drinking to Clip buggering off next year,’ continued Jay, his bright blue eyes bulging just as his father’s had done. Jay was remarkably like Jackdaw; tall and strongly built with well-developed muscles and a bullet-shaped head. He also shared Jackdaw’s brutish disposition and threw a heavy arm around the younger boy’s shoulders.

‘Come on, mate – drink up! We was thinking on how things’d change when Clip’s gone and Yul’s fully in charge.’

‘If he is,’ muttered Swift.

‘What?’ Jay could barely hear him over the noise.

‘I said “if”. Maybe Yul won’t be in charge.’

The three others stared at Swift in confusion. He grinned enigmatically and beckoned them to move away from the bar and into a quieter spot where they sat down on log stools.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Sweyn. ‘Who else’d be in charge?’

‘I don’t know,’ replied Swift. ‘It’s just something I overheard. Not everyone here likes Yul as much as he thinks they do. Sorry, I know he’s your brother.’

‘Half-brother. Yeah, well, I’m not too keen on him myself, to be honest. He’s never done me no favours.’

‘Nor me,’ agreed Gefrin. ‘Too high and mighty and he treats us like fools. I don’t like him at all but don’t tell Mother that. He’s always been her favourite.’

‘What about you, Jay?’

Jay glared belligerently, his eyes dull with alcohol and a sense of injustice.

‘Old Violet and my Aunt Starling and Granny Vetchling, they told me my father died thanks to Yul. Yul were protected by the old crone Mother Heggy and she helped him become magus. It was her crow as pecked my father’s eyes out up on that bloody stone at Mooncliffe and killed him. My dad was only doing what the old Magus told him – he were Magus’ right-hand man, Granny Vetchling said, and it ain’t true what everyone says about him. So no, I don’t like Yul.’

Swift nodded.

‘Yes, I’ve heard that too. So none of you are for Yul then? If there was someone else ready to step in, you’d support him?’

‘Too right! Why, who is it?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Swift. ‘It’s just something I heard. But we’re ready, aren’t we, if the time comes? I don’t like Yul myself – arrogant bastard. Look at Martin, my father – he’s worked hard all his life and he has to kow-tow to Yul and treat him like the master. My father remembers when Yul was just a Village woodsman. He remembers your father, Alwyn, beating the shit out of him, and the old magus too, both of them having a good go. They locked Yul up in a stable and practically killed him, Father said. Yul was nothing then, in fact he had to answer to my father and it’s not right that my father has to take orders from him now.’

‘Is that what Uncle Martin says? I didn’t know he felt like that,’ said Jay.

‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Swift hurriedly. ‘I mean, I’ve never heard him say that directly because he wouldn’t speak out against the magus. He’s very loyal – too bloody loyal. He should think of himself instead of serving others. He’s just as much right to run Stonewylde as they have, after all. But don’t say anything about this, will you? It’s secret, confidential.’

The three nodded solemnly.

‘We won’t say a word,’ said Gefrin.

‘I’d like Yul out of the way,’ said Sweyn slowly, the implications dawning on him. ‘He’s never liked me and I’d be free to do what I like. Sort out that ugly little bitch of a sister once and for all. Yeah, I’d like that.’

‘What about Kestrel?’ asked Jay, thinking of the ring-leader of their group. ‘Does he know about this?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Swift. ‘He knows and he feels the same.’

‘Where is he anyway?’

Swift laughed and got up from the stool.

‘Can’t you guess? He was with Primrose at the feast so chances are they went to the hayloft. I’m sure he’ll be done soon and then he’ll come in for a drink.’

‘Where are you off to?’ asked Jay.

‘Oh, just wandering about.’

But Swift knew exactly where he was going. Midnight wasn’t far off and something was happening at the Stone Circle tonight. He didn’t know what but he intended to find out.

Yul stood quietly in the shadows of a great stone buttress, breathing deeply of the night. It was so hot and noisy inside the Barn and he’d been dancing for hours, trying to spend time with everyone. The ceremony in the Village Green labyrinth had gone very well but as always he was drained afterwards. The feeling he experienced as the Earth Magic poured into him from its serpent source was exhilarating, flooding him until he felt he would burst. Then he must share the magic with everyone and this was the exhausting part. There were so many words of the ritual to remember, all to be chanted perfectly in harmony with the drums. By the end of the ceremony Yul always felt completely worn out, and then he must start socializing.

All he wanted to do now was go home to bed and sleep with Sylvie by his side. He closed his eyes with longing at the thought of it, imagining the silkiness of her skin and the smell of her silvery hair. She’d already left for the Hall, also worn out by the heat and noise. He’d seen her signalling that she was leaving whilst he was dancing with one of the teachers. He hadn’t liked to cut the dance short but wished she’d stayed so they could be together. He hated Samhain night and Sylvie was the one person he could confide in. Over the years she’d helped him deal with his terrors until gradually they’d receded and become manageable. Nobody knew exactly what he’d gone through that fateful Samhain all those years ago, but she understood better than most. She knew he still had nightmares about it, and understood the fear that memories could arouse.

Yul knew it must be approaching midnight and then he could say his farewells and walk up the track to the Hall. He wandered away from the Barn and onto the Village Green, gazing up at the brilliant stars overhead. They were so much brighter in the black, moonless skies and he felt a shudder of excitement which overcame his Samhain fears. He’d always felt this when the Dark Magic was strongest but kept it hidden, for most people at Stonewylde only celebrated the Moon Fullness and were a little nervous of the Dark Moon. As he stepped into the labyrinth of white pebbles he felt a tug at his soul. Midnight was close and the magic was strong. He felt its power thrilling through his veins, re-energising him all over again.

Yul walked along the winding labyrinth path towards the wicker dome in the centre, deciding he should be in there at midnight. He wanted to talk to the dead and hopefully get a glimpse of old Mother Heggy. It’d happened a couple of times since her death almost thirteen years ago and he hoped that as it was the Dark Moon as well this year maybe he’d be lucky again. He still missed her wisdom and loyalty. He wished she’d lived long enough to see him as the new magus and to be proud of all he’d achieved since his sixteenth birthday.

He reached the dome and bent almost double to enter. Inside it was still rich with aromatic smoke. The black feathers hanging from the roof brushed his face as he sat down on the mats. He crossed his legs, straightened his back and closed his eyes, calling upon the power of Samhain and the Dark Moon to give him a glimpse of Mother Heggy, maybe even let him speak to her through the veil of death that separated his living world from the Otherworld. He shivered suddenly and felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise. Despite its emptiness, he knew suddenly that he wasn’t alone in the wicker dome.

Sylvie had almost reached the beech-lined gravel drive leading up to the Hall. She knew she should’ve stayed by Yul’s side until the end, but watching him dancing endlessly with every woman at Stonewylde or stand around drinking cider with all the men was difficult. She must wait patiently, smiling at everyone, dancing with the men, ignoring the looks many women gave her husband and pretending she didn’t mind. She knew it was ridiculous, that he was only doing his duty as magus, but she still remembered Holly and how the girl had thrown herself at Yul. That was all so long ago now but Sylvie hated being reminded of her jealousy and negativity. So rather than hang around uselessly in the Barn watching people drinking, she’d decided to go to bed. It’d be peaceful and quiet as everyone was still down in the Village and hopefully Yul would come back soon too and leave the others to their revelry.

As she walked under the great beech trees, finally relinquishing their hold on their leaves, Sylvie breathed deeply of the cool night air. She remembered walking along this drive with Professor Siskin, and that funny way he had of skipping with excitement, babbling on about his theories and research. She wished so much that he were still alive. She often worried that her invitation to return to Stonewylde had hastened his death and wished she could see him and say sorry.

Sylvie felt his presence close as she walked along the crunchy gravel, almost sensed him by her side, a good head shorter than her and struggling to keep up with her long-legged strides. Her skin begin to prickle and she had the overwhelming feeling that he actually was walking beside her, his head cocked to one side like the little bird he was named for.

‘Professor Siskin, I’m sorry,’ she whispered. Tears choked her throat and her skin crawled with a strange emotion – almost dread. She stared straight ahead, terrified that if she did turn to look she’d see him there.

‘No matter, my dear, no matter,’ he would’ve said. Did he say it? Was she imagining the voice or was it really there? ‘Be careful, Sylvie, and look to yourself. You must fight all over again, my dear girl. You must be so strong in the dark times ahead.’

In the dark cave Leveret stirred again on her bed of dried bracken. The fire had died low and Clip still sat near the entrance, motionless in the light of the glowing embers, his mind far away from his body. He was protecting her and yet she felt alone in the darkness. She struggled to remember something vital that she’d forgotten and then, in a moment of lucidity, she realised where she was – up in the Dolmen with Clip, with the red and white magic of Fly Agaric coursing through her. But it was so late. This should’ve happened in the afternoon, so that in the evening she could …

It hit her like a punch to the stomach. It was Samhain! She’d prepared everything so she could cast a circle in the old hovel, try her very first spell, and contact Mother Heggy. Yet here she was miles away in a stone cave up in the hills with the owner of Stonewylde, her mind still spiralling out of control from the effects of the mushroom. Leveret cried out loud, a sound of utter despair. It was the Dark Moon and Samhain – goddess knew when the two would coincide again. She was in the wrong place with none of the things she needed for the spell, and she sensed with the inner Stonewylde knowledge that it was only minutes away from the magic hour of midnight. The veil would be drawn aside very soon and there was nothing she could do. She’d missed her chance to call upon Mother Heggy for help to become the new Wise Woman.

Leveret struggled to sit up in the darkness, just able to make out the motionless shape of Clip in his black-feathered cloak at the mouth of the cave. She hung her head in misery – how could she have been so stupid? How could she have misjudged it so badly? She buried her face in her hands, curls hanging down. Something brushed her shoulders in sympathy, a brief, light touch on her bent back. Leveret stiffened, too frightened to look up for fear of what she might see. She tasted words, words that danced towards her on dark wings.

‘
Little hare, I’m waiting for you. You’re the dark one with the gift and you won’t walk alone. I’m here, waiting and watching
.’

She felt something brush her cheek and shrank in terror. Was she imagining all this? She must still be hallucinating. Slowly she lowered her hands from her face, and in her lap she found a black feather.

A wind had sprung up, starting as a slight breeze but increasing in intensity. The leaves on the Village Green stirred and then began to dance across the grass. Youngsters still fooling about outside felt the coolness on their overheated skin and began to think they’d had enough. They made their way back to the Barn where the Jack o’ Lanterns flickered precariously in the steady draught. Out of the blue came a really sharp gust of wind and many of the guttering flames were extinguished in an instant. People gasped as it suddenly became much darker inside and the Samhain decorations took on a more sinister cast.