Moondance of Stonewylde (47 page)

S
ylvie stood in her room looking through the window. It was late afternoon and the sun was sinking low. As the afternoon had worn on she’d gradually realised, with a certainty that grew deeper by the hour, that this month there’d be no escape. Despair gripped her and she knew that it would soon be time. She felt jittery and jumpy as usual, but over-riding it was her terror of what would happen to her tonight. Miranda had made her bathe and change into the silver dress, which she now loathed. Her bare arms and legs felt cold and she pulled a cover from her bed to wrap around herself. She trembled with fear, hoping, wishing and praying that Yul would somehow manage to stop this from happening, with or without Mother Heggy’s help. She knew that if it were humanly possible he’d save her. She knew how he loved her.

She heard them coming through the sitting room, the men’s voices seeming loud after the silence. Her heart thumped in her chest and her stomach clenched with dread. They came into her bedroom without knocking. Sylvie caught a glimpse of her mother’s face in the doorway smiling anxiously. Magus was brusque and business-like, glancing peremptorily at her. He took her arm and led her towards the arched door, tossing the bedcover onto the floor. Clip picked it up.

‘She’ll need this, won’t she? It’ll be cold up there.’

They both wore warm clothing, she noticed.

‘Yes, alright, but let’s get on with it. I’ve got the key.’

‘Goodbye!’ called Miranda. ‘Have a nice time!’

When they reached the cliff path Sylvie started to climb but Magus stopped her. Neither he nor Clip had spoken to her; it was as if she didn’t exist as herself, only as a means for providing them with what they wanted. Magus picked her up, shifting her in his arms. She had to lie passively, despite her terror and rising moongaziness, pretending to be docile and still under the spell. She felt his hands gripping her and she laid her head against his chest, breathing in his scent. She forced herself to relax; her body screamed to escape.

‘Good,’ said Magus, ‘she’s put on some weight. She feels heavier than last time thanks to Miranda feeding her up. Does that make you feel better, Clip? She’ll be stronger now and it won’t matter so much if she doesn’t eat for a few days afterwards.’

‘Yes, I suppose so. She became so thin last time it worried me.’

‘Well don’t be worried. And remember what I said before – I think there’s a certain amount of attention-seeking and malingering going on, and she’ll just have to learn to cope with it. She’ll be doing this every twenty-nine days for the foreseeable future and she’d better get used to it.’

Magus shifted her in his arms and she felt like a sack of grain, especially when he cursed and then slung her over his shoulders in a fire-fighter’s lift. Her arms and long hair dangled down his back, while his shoulder pressed into her stomach. Sylvie started to cry silently at this added indignity. Seagulls wheeled and cried overhead as they reached the cliff-top, and she saw that the sun was close to setting in the watery sky. There was some broken cloud and a light breeze blew up from the sea, making it feel chilly. The strange glittering rock, placed so unnaturally on the grass, was like a massive round table standing empty, waiting. Sylvie knew, with a clutch of fear, that she was the feast.

Magus put her down, righting her as she nearly overbalanced. She started to tremble, partly from the cold but also with fear. She had a strong feeling of unreality, not helped by her natural tension and jumpiness this close to moonrise. Could this really
be happening to her? Would it be as bad as Yul had made out? Clip came over and looked into her face, smiling hesitantly.

‘I love to dance at Mooncliffe,’ she said, for good measure.

‘And so you shall, Sylvie,’ he said, patting her arm kindly. ‘Here, let’s wrap you up whilst we wait for the moon.’

He carefully draped the cover around her, although her bare legs and feet were still cold. Magus was over at the wooden chest fiddling around with a padlock. Next to it lay a new chest, also padlocked.

‘Come and give me a hand, Clip,’ he called. ‘I want to shift all these eggs up to the rock so they’re ready to load on her. Then we can put them straight back into the chest as soon as she’s charged them.’

‘But there are more here, Sol, a whole new crate of them! What have you done? She barely managed the first lot and she’ll never cope with all these extra stones as well.’

‘We’ll see how it goes – we’ve got nothing to lose. And look, the new ones are much smaller so they won’t take as long. Did I tell you I’ve got some people interested in buying them? The smaller ones are to sell and I’ll keep the larger ones for our own use. I thought that when she can’t stand upright any more, we’ll lay a load of these smaller ones on top of her rather than having her hold just two at a time. I don’t know if it’ll work, but we can try. Remember I said we’re going to stay up for a bit longer tonight.’

‘No, Sol! I didn’t agree to that! You promised you wouldn’t be cruel tonight. You promised! I only agreed to come on that basis.’

‘Oh for Goddess’ sake, stop whinging. Look what I brought up here earlier, to keep us going. A couple of bottles of the strong brew mead and a tin of your favourite cakes with their special new ingredient. We’ll celebrate the Moon Fullness in style tonight.’

Sylvie stood in the slight breeze with her hair blowing around her whilst they shifted all the stone eggs to form a circle around the edge of the rock. It seemed to take forever as they shuttled backwards and forwards, Clip muttering objections half-heartedly but without the will to protest further. She shook with cold
and fear, not sure how she should be behaving if under hypnosis, but feeling that familiar rising within her as darkness began to fall. Finally the two men stood ready, and all three of them stared out to sea, waiting.

I can’t dance the magic into Stonewylde in this terrible place of suffering! The snake awaits, greedy and sparkling, and I can’t do it!

Yul, hidden in the bracken, was also shaking although not from cold. He couldn’t bear to see her shivering in the thin dress and barely covered by the blanket, silently waiting for her ordeal to begin. He knew that this time she was aware of what was happening to her. Several times, when they’d had their backs to her, she’d looked around desperately as if for a means of escape. He hadn’t dared make himself visible to her in case they gave themselves away. The worse thing was that he didn’t even have a plan of action. Despite Mother Heggy’s warning he was still hoping some opportunity would present itself so he could rescue her. But time was running out and it didn’t seem there was any chance now.

He noticed the little signs in Sylvie that the moonrise was imminent. She fidgeted, going up on her tiptoes, and then her arms started to rise. On the horizon he saw the rim of the moon, half buried in the cloud. The covers slipped off as her arms rose into wings. Magus noticed and grasped hold of her.

‘Here we go, Clip! Take the other side – we’ll lift her up like this.’

They manhandled her towards the stone but she began to struggle, thrashing around and screaming.

‘What the hell’s happening?’ bellowed Magus. ‘I thought she was still under hypnosis? Quick, grab her and get her up there!’

‘Sylvie, Sylvie, you’re at Mooncliffe!’ said Clip. ‘You love to dance here.’

‘No!’ she screamed, kicking and struggling. ‘I hate it! You’ve no right to do this to me! Let me go!’

Unsure what to do, Yul stood up in the dead bracken with his
fists clenched, and took a step towards them. Sylvie flailed and almost broke free, until Magus grabbed her roughly with one hand and slapped her around the face with the other. Her head snapped sharply to the side and Yul jumped out of the bracken with a roar of rage and raced up onto the cliff top.

‘What the hell is
he
doing here?’ yelled Magus, still trying to get a good grip on Sylvie. She fought and kicked as he struggled to lift her up onto the rock. ‘For Goddess’ sake, keep still you stupid bloody girl or I’ll
really
hurt you!’

‘
Don’t you dare touch her, you bastard!
’ Yul screamed, leaping onto them and trying to wrench Sylvie away. Magus shoved him back and then in one quick, violent motion swung Sylvie off her feet and threw her sprawling onto the rock. She landed with a sharp cry, her body convulsing. In the near darkness she began to glow with silver threads of light. Yul was up on his feet again trying to scramble onto the rock to reach her. Magus punched him hard, catching him in the shoulder, and yelled at Clip who stood there uncertainly.

‘Clip, get up on the rock now and stand her up in the centre! Quick! The power isn’t flowing properly while she’s lying there like that.’

Clip leapt onto it and took hold of her, but dropped her again instantly.

‘Sacred Mother!’ he screeched. ‘I can’t touch her! It’s like an electric shock!’

‘Come and hold him, then. Don’t let him go!’

Magus jumped onto the rock and grabbed Sylvie, his face contorting with pain as he touched her. He yanked her upright and pushed her into the centre so she faced the rising moon, every bone in her body jolting and jerking. Her face was twisted in agony and her curtain of hair rippled violently.

‘Let her go!’ roared Yul, wrenching himself free of Clip’s hold. He dodged to one side trying to get round Clip and onto the stone, but Magus dived at him and knocked him hard to the ground. For all he’d grown, Yul was still young and slim while Magus was a tall, powerfully-built man. There was no competition
and within seconds Yul was lying face down in the grass, one arm twisted viciously up behind him, while Magus’ knee pressed hard into the small of his back. Yul choked and gasped where he’d been winded.

‘Keep still, you bloody peasant, or I’ll break your arm!’ hissed Magus, giving it a wrench for good measure. Yul cried out in agony and tried not to move. He felt Magus relax, the weight increasing on his back.

‘Everything’s alright now, Clip,’ he called. ‘She’ll be up there for a good hour or more until we start to load her with stones. All we have to do now is deal with this damn nuisance and then we can crack open the mead. Didn’t I say that he was trouble? Can you see now why I have to put an end to his rebellious behaviour?’

‘What’s he doing up here anyway?’ asked Clip, wandering over to stare down at Yul.

‘Come to rescue her no doubt,’ Magus sneered. ‘I’ve warned you before, Yul, to stay away from this girl but you just won’t be told, will you? This time you really will pay for it.’

‘Please!’ gasped Yul, his face squashed into the grass and his lungs compressed by Magus’ weight. ‘Please just let her go. It hurts her up on that rock.’

Magus only laughed.

‘Clip, there’s a piece of rope in the new chest, I believe, from when it was dragged up here. Bring it over, will you?’

He proceeded to bind Yul’s wrists tightly together behind his back, and then hauled him upright into a sitting position facing the rock. He looped the end of the rope through one of the iron rings set into the ground and fastened it securely.

‘There!’ he said. ‘You’re not going anywhere in a hurry and neither’s she, not for a long, long time. Feast your eyes on my moongazy girl, Yul, if you’re so keen. Look at her – she’s even dancing for you.’

Yul let out a cry of rage at this.

‘I
hate
you, you bastard! I’m going to kill you!’

Magus turned and with a vicious side swipe that Yul remembered
well from his days in the byre, knocked him sideways to the ground. The side of his face was now agony, his lip bleeding freely. Magus yanked him upright to face Sylvie again.

‘Not if I kill you first!’ he spat.

An hour later, Magus and Clip had drunk much of the strong mead and Clip had eaten a few cakes. He lay on the grass on his back with his feet against the rock, humming softly to himself. Magus had climbed onto the rock and lay there soaking up the moon energy. Sylvie’s terrible convulsions had quietened into tremors, and the silver light still crawled all over her arms and legs. Yul had been silent since Magus’ brutal blow, fully appreciating his vulnerable position. It wasn’t in his or Sylvie’s interests to goad Magus into a rage, but Yul imagined how cold she must be now and couldn’t let her freeze.

‘Would you put the blanket around her please?’ he asked quietly, hoping Magus would take pity on her. Magus raised his head from the rock and glared at him, his face clearly visible in the silver light.

‘Aah, how touching, such sweet concern. Shut up, Yul!’

But Clip must have heard for he staggered to his feet and found the cover lying on the ground. He managed, after a few clumsy attempts, to climb up onto the rock and drape it around her shoulders. He could barely stand and almost fell against Sylvie.

‘That’d better not interfere with the energy,’ muttered Magus.

‘No, look, it’s still going into the rock,’ mumbled Clip. ‘Think I’ll join you now it’s calmer up here. What’ve you put in those cakes, Sol? They’re so powerful! Sacred Mother, that’s a good combination – cakes and moon energy. I can feel myself going …’

Magus sat up and reaching across, picked up two of the larger stone eggs. He placed them in Sylvie’s unresponsive hands and lay back down again with a groan. Yul sat silently, anger seething through his body but mingled with sharp sadness. He’d let her down. She’d trusted him to rescue her and had stood there
waiting, not trying to escape because she’d had faith in him. He’d failed her and he welcomed the pain in the side of his face where Magus had hit him; he deserved it. He hung his head and cried silently.