Magus of Stonewylde Book One (47 page)

Yul registered the shock in Magus’ eyes too. The master’s chanting faltered and stopped; the drumming increased to cover it. His mouth was a hard line clamped tight and he frowned, his face like thunder. Yul knew he should be worried but he felt a rush of power and lifted his chin. The arm holding the torch never wavered despite the strain. With the crow on his shoulder Yul unhurriedly approached the man standing so high and majestic above the crowd. He climbed the wooden steps onto the Altar Stone, turning so that he and Magus now faced each other.

Yul hadn’t expected the surge of energy that shot up through his body, nearly knocking him off the stone. His eyes gleamed with exhilaration and he met Magus’ gaze squarely and unfalteringly. The man’s face was dangerously pale and his dark eyes smouldered. Yul didn’t flinch, his gaze cool and grey. They made a stunning pair: the tall man with glittering robe and burnished blond hair, his granite face frozen, and the boy, smaller and slighter but somehow similar in build, his robe plainer but still beautiful, long dark hair framing his chiselled face. A king and a young prince.

Yul stood with one arm outstretched holding the flaming torch, the glossy black crow perched on his opposite shoulder. The first bright sunbeam cleared the top of the Summer Stone and blazed onto them in a piercing spear of light. Their robes shimmered and sparkled and their skin glowed gold. The wild drumming climaxed into an explosive crescendo as the shaft of sunlight penetrated the Circle, and then fell silent.

‘The Solstice sun marks the rise of the Holly King and the fall of the Oak King!’ cried Yul, his voice ringing out in the hush, the
familiar words tripping off his tongue. ‘I, Herald of the Dawn, pass on the sacred living flame to show the continuity of the never-ending cycle.’

Magus, glaring into Yul’s eyes, held out his hand to receive the torch.

‘I, Magus of Stonewylde, accept the sacred living flame,’ he replied. ‘May the sun’s energy—’

The unthinkable happened. As Yul handed the torch to Magus, a bolt of power cracked up through the stone in a mighty green flash as if flying from the earth itself. Yul jolted as it shot violently through his frame, exploding into every fibre of his body with molten force. Taking the torch from Yul, Magus somehow fumbled as the energy leapt from the stone. His fingers loosened their grip and jerked in spasm. The torch fell, hitting the Altar Stone with a loud and distinctive thud, and rolled to the ground below. In the shocked silence there came a collective intake of breath from hundreds of throats as the torch lay quenched on the earth. The living flame was dead.

In the stillness the crow let out a massive
caw
, making everyone jump. It flew up onto the nearest standing stone where it perched, fixing Yul with a jewelled eye. Without thinking, he sprang off the stone to the ground below and seized the torch in one hand. The other hand flicked open at the smoking end of it and a green-blue flame shot from his fingers, reigniting it. He held up the torch exultantly and a great cheer echoed around the vast arena. Yul climbed the steps again and continued the words that had died on Magus’ lips.

‘May the sun’s energy fill this hallowed circle of stone! May the folk of Stonewylde be blessed with life force and powerful magic! Bright Solstice Blessings to all!’

He turned to Magus, whose eyes glittered with dark hatred. Yul glowed with green energy, the Earth Magic pulsing around him in an aura of power. Magus had nothing. Yul smiled, his grey eyes dancing with light. Once again he held out the burning torch to Magus who snatched it from him.

‘You’ve stolen my energy!’ he hissed. ‘You’ll pay for this, boy!’

‘The Oak King is dead,’ Yul replied softly. ‘Long live the Holly King.’

The throng of people cheered again as Yul stepped down from the Altar Stone. He caught Sylvie’s eye and understanding flashed between them; Mother Heggy had spoken true. The crow flapped away out of the great Circle and back to his mistress. The children crowded excitedly around the bonfire to throw their wicker men into the blazing Solstice flames, symbolising the death of the old king.

Yul and Sylvie smiled at each other, their eyes blazing out happiness and their spirits singing with hope. This was the beginning and all would change from this moment! The Earth Goddess had chosen. The magic of Stonewylde had found its new heart.

My thanks and acknowledgements written for the original, self-published edition of this book still stand. So, continued and deepest thanks to:

Clare Pearson, my first agent, for your vision and attempts to teach me that less is more.

My three sons George, Oliver and William for your constant love and support over the years.

My friends and family, many of you in Dorset, for your kindness, enthusiasm and encouragement.

My father for lending me the money to start my publishing venture.

Rob Walster of Big Blu Design for the original covers.

Mr B – for everything.

Now that Stonewylde has been taken on by Gollancz and this new edition published, I must add some more sincere thanks to:

My readers – the thousands of you who bought and loved the original books. Deepest, most heartfelt thanks to each of you for your loyalty to me and enthusiasm for Stonewylde.

My family and friends again – for such constant love and support from you all. I’m so very lucky.

Piers Russell-Cobb, my literary agent, for being totally brilliant.

Gillian Redfearn, my editor, for your excellence.

My sister Claire of Helixtree and Rob Walster of Big Blu Design for the beautiful Stonewylde logo.

Mr B – once more, for making it happen for me.