Magus of Stonewylde Book One (28 page)

That was the final straw for Sylvie. She slipped out quickly, wanting only to escape.

When he arrived for work not long after dawn, Greenbough had been surprised to find Yul curled up on the floor of the woodsmen’s hut. Yul had spent an uncomfortable night and ached all over, each blow that Alwyn had placed throbbing painfully and bruised deep purple. As his master stomped into the hut Yul scrambled to his feet, every muscle and sinew crying out at the sudden movement. He imagined Greenbough would be angry and rehearsed the excuse he’d come up with the night before.

‘I’m pleased to see you here, boy,’ said the old man gruffly. ‘’Tis about time you got out of harm’s way. Did you run away or did he kick you out?’

Yul blinked through his tousled hair at Greenbough, who felt a rush of pity for the hollow-cheeked boy.

‘I ran away,’ mumbled Yul. ‘Sorry about sleeping here.’

‘No matter,’ said Greenbough, putting a kettle of water onto the small stove and raking the embers into new heat. ‘Best place for you, lad. Course, Alwyn’ll come here first if he’s trying to find you. Do you want a bed in my cottage? My goodwife would be happy to care for you.’

Yul’s drawn face broke into a smile.

‘That’s very kind, sir. But I think he’d come looking there too. I was planning on building a shelter deeper in the woods somewhere. Mother Heggy said that would be best.’

‘Did she now? I should’ve known she’d be mixed up in this somewhere. Well, you heed her advice, boy, for she’s a wise old crone. And she has your interests at heart.’

Yul nodded and found the mugs to make their tea.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but can I go home a little later on? I need to do something for Mother Heggy and I must get some food.’

‘Course you can,’ said Greenbough, remembering Magus’ annoyance the previous day on discovering Yul had been given time off work. To his surprise, the old woodsman found his loyalty lay with this ill-treated boy and not the master. He’d cover for Yul if the situation arose. ‘Just mind you keep out of your father’s way. And let your mother know you’re safe and I’m looking out for you.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Yul shyly. He’d never seen this side of Greenbough before. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

‘Aye well enough,’ said Greenbough airily. ‘If you’re doing Mother Heggy’s bidding, you take as long as you need.’

The Village was unusually deserted when Yul arrived later, and he’d counted on this. Most women were in the Great Barn for the Dark Moon gathering, the children in school and the Nursery, and the men at work. A few older women gathered at the pump gossiping, but Yul skirted the buildings unseen and slipped into the empty cottage. He took a deep breath and looked around. Maizie had left the place as clean and tidy as ever; Yul knew he had a difficult task ahead. But first he needed food. He spent the next ten minutes in the pantry wolfing down as much as possible.
Then he climbed the stairs and went into his parents’ bedroom, his feet reluctant and heart thumping.

The room was spotlessly tidy and Yul hunted in vain for what he needed. He felt guilty rifling through their things. There were a few gingery hairs in Alwyn’s brush, which he pocketed carefully, hoping it would be enough. He looked around, noting how impersonal and stark the room was. There was nothing that spoke of his mother, of her sweet ways or her love of animals, birds and flowers. She’d have liked a pretty bedroom. Yul felt a sadness creep into his heart at the way she had to live, everything locked inside her and safe from Alwyn’s destructive rule. Surely she’d be better off without him? Whatever Mother Heggy had planned, it could only make Maizie’s life better.

He remembered again yesterday’s violence; the vicious expression on Alwyn’s face as he pinned Yul against the wall by his throat, the awful pleasure the tanner took in beating him. With a growl of rage Yul kicked at the bedroom door – and then he saw it. Lying behind the door, right against the edge of the skirting board, was a great horny toenail clipping. A smile spread over his thin face and he laughed.

‘Thank you, Dark Goddess,’ he whispered.

Sylvie hurried around the side of the Junior School wing and across a small lawn leading into a grove of Scots pine trees. She didn’t know this part of the grounds but had to get away before Buzz and Fennel came looking for her. She couldn’t stand the thought of them hounding her all day. She was also worried about Holly’s increasing hostility and its effect on the other girls. She must put Holly’s mind at rest, and spending any time with Buzz today would only make matters worse.

She slowed down in the pine grove, sure the boys wouldn’t look for her here. She wandered through the tall, straight trees, admiring the rough golden shingles of bark and drinking in the aromatic fragrance. Sunlight poured down in dusty shafts and Sylvie began to relax in the warm May morning. After a while the pine trees thinned and then she was in heath land. The
gorse was brilliant with coconut-scented nuggets of yellow flower. Silver birches grew in clusters and the air was bright with dancing butterflies.

Enjoying her new strength and vitality, Sylvie steadily climbed the hill, noting how the soil had changed to silver-grey sand. The path followed a gully carved into the slope, laddered with tree roots exposed by past torrents of water. She spotted the startling chevrons of an adder basking by the side of the path, and froze. The snake was silver and black, kinked in a strange shape on the warm soil, its tongue flickering. Sylvie’s heart jumped at the sight of it; she’d never seen an adder before. It was beautifully patterned but the sharp zigzags screamed of danger. She stepped past the snake very carefully and moved on swiftly, imagining fangs and venom.

The land flattened out, and walking on the higher ground she came across an expanse of water overhung with birch and willow. Sylvie stopped for a while, sitting on a fallen log and gazing across the huge pond, shielding her eyes from the brilliant, dancing sunlight. Massive neon-blue dragonflies darted over the sparkling water and young frogs swarmed around the shallow edges in the mud. It was an idyllic morning and she forgot her earlier humiliation as the natural beauty of Stonewylde engulfed her.

Continuing along the path, Sylvie left the heath and found herself in grassland. Sheep grazed rhythmically on the hillside, eyeing her with their strange vertical pupils and bleating as she passed by. Up ahead, built almost on the summit of the hill, was a strange stone structure looking like a giant π symbol. Two colossal upright stones formed an entrance, capped by a great horizontal stone creating a roof. Sylvie paused and stared. It looked prehistoric. Then she noticed a thin trickle of smoke above the stone shelter, and in the same moment a movement inside caught her eye. She saw a dark purple robe and a head of wispy blond hair, and recognised the familiar face of Clip. With a smile she climbed the hill until she reached the stone portal.

‘Good morning!’ she called cheerfully, peering into the dark
interior. The structure went back further than she’d expected, becoming almost a cave at the back. Clip sat cross-legged by the small fire burning in the entrance. Instead of the friendly welcome she’d imagined, he turned towards her and stared blankly. His grey eyes were vacant, roaming her face but seemingly without recognition. It was an uncanny sensation and she wondered fearfully if he were ill or out of his mind.

‘Clip? Are you alright? It’s me, Sylvie.’

His eyes slid into focus and he looked at her intently.

‘I’ve seen you, Sylvie, last night. I met with your guide.’

‘What? What do you mean?’

He regarded her silently and a shiver chased down her arms.

‘Clip, what’s wrong with you? Are you ill?’

He smiled dreamily at this, his gaunt face creasing into furrows. He shook his head slowly and made an effort to concentrate.

‘Blessings, Sylvie. Come in and sit with me for a while.’

A little reluctantly she stooped and entered the strange stone cave, settling herself down opposite him. She shook her hair back and tucked it behind her ears, feeling hot after the long walk up the hill in the heat.

‘Do you have any water, Clip? I’m quite thirsty.’

Still smiling, he reached deeper into the cave and produced a large stone bottle. He poured some water into a small bowl and passed it to her. She drank gratefully and accepted a cake and an apple too. He seemed to be more aware now, the dreaminess in his eyes beginning to fade.

‘I’m not ill,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve been journeying to other places. Last night was the Dark Moon and I felt a need to travel. I’ve been here all night.’

This apparent paradox was resolved as he continued.

‘I’m a shaman, Sylvie. I journey in other realms and I try to understand the messages of my guide, the silver wolf. Last night I met you, or your spirit at least. And I spoke with your guide.’

‘My guide?’

‘Your spirit guide. The sacred one who looks over you, guards
your soul. The one who takes you, when you’re ready, out of this reality and into others.’

‘I see. And who is my guide?’

She had visions of a long dead great-grandmother or some such nonsense.

‘A great white barn owl.’

She swallowed.

‘Your owl showed me that you’ve come to Stonewylde for a special reason. Stonewylde is your destiny and your fate, the threshold to a new world and yet also your final destination. You’re here on a journey of your own, and you’ll come across danger and unhappiness in the course of this journey. You’re ruled by the Moon Goddess who loves your dance. But you have a link with the Dark Goddess, a connection. I don’t see that so clearly. You’re a saviour, Sylvie. You’re brave and loyal and before the Solstice you will travel a long way.’

Sylvie stared at him in absolute confusion. She had no idea what his riddles meant. The situation wasn’t helped by the strange sensations thrilling through her veins. Her body tingled and burned and she felt a sudden elation of the spirits. The world seemed vivid, every colour brighter and clearer, everything sharply defined. She smiled at Clip, imagining the white owl hovering over her and knowing instinctively that he was right. Her spirit guide was indeed a barn owl.

‘That cake – it’s the same as we had at Beltane, isn’t it?’

He nodded happily.

‘Do you want another one? I’ve a few left.’

He reached for a tin but Sylvie shook her head, colours streaming out like a comet’s tail at the sudden movement.

‘No, that’s enough thanks. I didn’t realise. I feel so strange.’

‘There’s nothing like Old Violet’s special cakes. They open the mind and help you see the truth. I saw so much last night at the Dark Moon. It’s going now, fading in this reality. Did I tell you that you’re a saviour?’

‘Yes. But I don’t understand what that means.’

‘I rarely understand. It doesn’t matter whether we do or not.
Your owl told me you’ll travel soon and your destination is a place of desolation and destruction, a place of death. I remember that much. But what it means is a mystery. Just be careful, Sylvie. The owl spoke of an evil that walks, and of a snake too, a serpent within an egg. That’s an archetypal symbol, of course, and I’ve no idea how it relates to you.’

‘But I don’t want to travel, Clip,’ she whispered, everything becoming a little jumbled in her head. ‘I love Stonewylde. I never want to leave.’

He regarded her steadily.

‘I don’t think I said you’d leave Stonewylde, my dear. That’s not what I meant at all.’

‘You have it? Something of Alwyn?’ Mother Heggy croaked in her reedy voice, opening the door to Yul.

‘Yes,’ he said, suddenly nervous. In the confines of his cottage, where so much violence had taken place, he’d been overjoyed to find the toenail and convinced he was doing the right thing. But now … he’d walked to Heggy’s cottage through candy-pink thrift that grew abundantly in the cliff-side grass; he’d listened to the birds singing in the bright May morning and felt the warm sun on his skin. And now he wasn’t so sure this was the right thing after all. This business was dark and sinister and seemed to have no place in the real, beautiful world. Poisonous mushrooms and pieces of toenail – what sort of wickedness was he contemplating? His mother had strong views about this crazy old woman and perhaps he should heed her advice and keep well away.

Mother Heggy gazed up at him with milky eyes, the deep lines on her face shockingly clear in the daylight.

‘Eh, my boy – take heart! I spoke yesterday of what will come about if you do nothing. Touch the marks he’s left all over your body. You feel it now? The bruising is deep, but ‘tis as nothing compared to what he’s working up to. Do you want to die, Yul?’

‘No, of course I don’t. It’s just … what will happen if I give you what I found? I don’t want my mother to suffer.’

‘I cannot tell what will happen, for nought in life is set in
stone. But think on this – does Maizie suffer now? Aye, you know it. ‘Tis all about putting a stop to that suffering. And remember, Yul –
I
do this, not you.
Your
soul is untainted.’

He nodded and felt in his pocket, his heart full of dread. First he produced the ginger hairs, only a few. Heggy frowned and took them carefully in her clawed hand, shaking her head.

‘’Tis hardly enough. Was this all?’

Silently he handed her the crescent of yellow toenail. Her face cracked into a toothless leer.