by Steve Haynes
Holly frowned. ‘Probably just confident,’ she said. ‘I like that in a man, don’t you, Anne?’
‘He was weird.’
‘Why? What else did he say?’
‘He said – he asked – I dunno.’ Steph subsided. Maybe Holly was right, maybe she had overreacted. She wasn’t really sure Kix had said anything all that odd. And it was nice having someone like that, cool, confident – yes, confident – choosing to spend time with her. Not that he’d spent much of it. She remembered how he’d walked away, and wondered if, after all, she’d been a little disappointed.
‘You like him,’ Holly said, and Steph met her eye, startled.
‘No, I don’t. I – I don’t think I do.’
Holly giggled. ‘Steph and Kix, sitting in a tree . . .’
‘Don’t.’ Steph laughed, caught Holly’s eye and laughed harder. ‘Really, I don’t. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about the stones.’
‘What, the Rollrights?’
‘There are legends about them, aren’t there? What are they?’
Holly pouted. ‘Not much to tell. It’s boring, really. They’re king’s men, invading England, only a witch stopped them and turned them to stone. There’s some story about them all going off to a stream to drink when the church clock strikes midnight, but it’s all rubbish.’
‘And there’s the one about how they can’t be moved,’ said Anne, ‘or misfortune will strike.’
‘And the one about fairy-folk living under them, waiting to drag you beneath the stones and turn you into some sort of slave.’
‘Plus the one about the knights telling your fortune,’ said Anne. ‘That’s about it.’ She shrugged. ‘We told you. Boring.’
Steph thought of the circle and wondered what it would look like now the daylight was fading. She imagined they would look more like people than ever, huddled in the half-light. But the others were right, it was boring. The fact that she had ever felt interested – it was a sign of her horizons shrinking, of having nothing else to do. She should remember she was leaving this place as soon as she could. She could go to university or get a job, or do as she’d boasted to Kix and travel the world. And then she remembered the thing she’d almost thought she’d heard, as he walked away: Which world did you want to see?
‘Course,’ said Anne, ‘It wouldn’t be so boring if we went up there at night.’
Steph stirred. Holly was staring at her friend. ‘Yes! We could sneak out, take candles, and dance round the stones in the dark, like the nutty witches.’
‘Pagans.’
‘Whatever.’ Holly turned to Steph. ‘And we can ask the knights to tell our fortunes.’ She laughed. ‘We’ll know for sure if you’re going to get married then.’
Steph sat on the wall and waited, watching for Holly, but she jumped anyway when the shadow of a bike appeared in the road. The moon was fat, almost full, and Holly’s face was a pallid oval in the dark. They didn’t say anything, just headed away. As they went, Steph stretched out her legs to either side of the bike, feeling an unaccustomed sense of freedom; as though she was leaving Long Compton and her father and everything behind, nothing to think about, nothing holding her back.
The warden’s hut was locked up but they crept by it anyway, and waited for Anne at the top of the path. She arrived at last, out of breath. ‘I nearly got spotted,’ she said. Her voice sounded loud on the hillside. Above them, the sky sparkled with stars. The breeze was cold but felt good on Steph’s face.
‘Come on,’ whispered Holly. ‘The King’s Men, first.’
They stood in the centre of the circle. Stones stood out eerily in the dark, their paleness catching the moonlight. Holly pulled a candle from her bag but it was cold, and she found she hadn’t brought any matches, and she started to shiver. ‘Sod this,’ she said. ‘Let’s go to the Knights.’
They headed down the hillside. Steph felt the circle of stones like a presence at her back, and she turned and saw them, still there as they had been for centuries. She remembered the story of them going down to a stream to drink, and her lip twitched. When she turned back she could see the Knights and found she had been right: they did look like human figures leaning towards each other, whispering their secrets. Seeing them now, in the quiet and in the dark, she didn’t find it surprising that the story had been told.
‘Sit down,’ said Holly, ‘like before. We can close our eyes and chant or something.’
‘No,’ said Anne. ‘Be quiet: if we’re quiet, we might hear them.’
They sat as they had before, Steph sinking into the long grass. She immediately felt chilled through, the ground cold beneath her. So cold. It had been a warm day, the sun shining, and it surprised her it should be so cold.
‘Right,’ said Holly. From the sound of her voice, she wasn’t finding this so much fun as she’d expected either. ‘Shut it.’
They did, and Steph leaned back against the railings. It wasn’t comfortable and it didn’t help with the cold, but she didn’t want to change position and annoy Holly. Somewhere, out over the hillside, an owl hooted. Someone – Anne – let out a spurt of air.
‘Shh,’ Holly said.
Steph let her mind drift. She told herself she could be anywhere: France or Spain or Italy. Anywhere.
There was a sound at her back. Steph started, tried to turn. The others still had their eyes closed. After a moment, she settled back down. It hadn’t sounded like Anne, messing about. It had sounded like someone whispering behind her back. She didn’t like sitting here like this, not any more. She would have preferred it if the stones had been in front of her.
She felt a sharp elbow in her ribs and forced her eyes closed.
It was a short while before it came again, a soft sound gradually getting louder. There was a strange feeling too, a numbing feeling that rose from the ground. It must have been the cold, but it didn’t quite feel like that.
‘Sssss . . .’
Steph started up again, spun around. There was only rock and nothing more.
‘Steph.’
But Steph no longer cared if Holly was annoyed. She jumped to her feet and walked around the stones, checking if someone was hiding behind them. There was nothing. No one.
‘What is it?’ Holly was standing now too. ‘Did you hear something?’
‘No,’ said Steph. ‘Just a bird, maybe.’ She went back to her place and sank down. This time, when she closed her eyes, the voice was there. She knew it wasn’t Holly. It didn’t sound like anyone she knew, wasn’t the kind of voice she knew. This was something else. It sounded at once deep and sibilant and close and distant, and older than any voice had a right to be. ‘Kixxsss . . .’
‘Jesus,’ said Steph, jumping to her feet.
Holly’s eyes snapped open. ‘What’s up?’
‘I heard it. Didn’t you hear it?’
‘Seriously – you heard something? What did it say?’
Steph didn’t answer.
‘Tell us,’ said Anne.
‘She’s fooling about.’
‘She’s not. Look at her face.’
Steph put a hand to her cheek. She didn’t know what Anne meant, but she felt pale; very pale. ‘It said ‘Kix,’’ she stammered, ‘but it wasn’t real. I must have fallen asleep or something.’
‘No, you didn’t.’ Holly stood. ‘You really heard something, didn’t you? And – Kix!’ Something about her voice changed. ‘Score.’
‘No – I mean, it isn’t real. Or it isn’t right. Something isn’t right.’ Steph wanted to explain, but didn’t know how: none of this made any sense. ‘I don’t even like him,’ she finished.
But then they fell silent, because they heard a new sound; footsteps swishing through grass. Someone was coming towards them. ‘Shit,’ hissed Holly, but it was too late, they had nowhere to go. A dark figure stalked down the hillside. After a mome
nt it started to whistle, and then pale hair caught the moonlight. It was Kix.
‘Speak of the devil,’ said Holly admiringly.
‘But – but how – ’
‘Kix!’ Anne cut in. ‘You’ll never believe what – ’
‘Anne.’
But Kix didn’t seem interested in what Anne was going to say. He stopped in front of them and looked at Steph. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I saw a bike at the bottom. Thought you rebels must be up here somewhere.’
‘Well, you found us,’ said Holly, her voice full of smiles.
Kix kept his eyes fixed on Steph. ‘I was wondering if I could talk to you,’ he said, and reached out a hand; let it fall again before touching her. ‘I wanted to apologise for something I said earlier.’
Steph shook her head. ‘Sorry, but it’s late, and it’s dark. I need to be getting back. Holly, we should go.’
Holly spluttered. ‘Already? You’ve got to be kidding.’ She took Anne’s arm. ‘Come on. We’ll wait for you at the circle, Steph.’
‘No, but – ’
It was too late. They were already heading away, and Steph was left alone with Kix.
‘Walk with me,’ he said, and his voice was soft; he made it sound like a question, and Steph nodded.
They headed down the hillside, away from the Knights and further from the circle, and soon Steph could hear a stream. She remembered the story about how the King’s Men would come and drink, and it made her smile.
‘The things I want, I can take,’ said Kix, and sighed. ‘I said that, and I wanted to say I’m sorry.’
‘I – it’s okay.’
‘It’s true, of course. But I prefer them to come willingly.’
‘What?’
He smiled. ‘Willingly,’ he said. ‘Please do come willingly, Stephanie.’ He put a hand to his brow, pushed back his hair. She stared at him.
‘I asked you a question, once,’ he said.
Which world did you want to see? Steph heard the words, though his lips didn’t move. She didn’t move either. She felt she could never move again, as if she was rooted to the spot. Her legs were heavy, lifeless. She couldn’t look away from his eyes.
‘We were both right,’ he said softly. ‘You and I – we’ll always be together. But you’re never getting married, Stephanie.’
His eyes were gold. Gold.
‘You’re mad,’ she said, but her voice faltered. ‘Let me go.’
He held up his hands, the palms turned outward.
‘Please.’ Steph could feel coldness rising from the ground, creeping up her legs, penetrating deep into her knees, wrapping itself around her thighs. It rose higher and she gasped, felt its tendrils easing under her clothes, finding her spine. Soon she wouldn’t be able to move at all. She looked down and saw a peculiar thing; her clothes were glowing in the moonlight, the same pale sheen as the stones. She blinked. Like the stones. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Kix, don’t.’ She looked at his face and his eyes shone and there was no mercy in them, only amusement, and understanding, and age-old knowledge.
He mouthed something: Be with me.
It was rising higher, freezing her; it was killing her. Soon the cold would reach her heart and it would stop, just stop, while all around her the years would pass and she would still be there, just as now, except she wouldn’t be able to move or breathe or speak. Speak.
‘Please,’ she said, her thoughts running wildly. Let me go. I’ll give you anything.’
He smiled, as if at the antics of a child.
‘I’ll count the stones,’ she said. ‘Just give me a chance. Let me count the stones, and if I get it right – three times – you’ll let me go.’
He laughed, loud and sharp, and suddenly she could move again. ‘Done,’ he said. ‘I knew there was a reason I chose you, Stephanie. I knew, if nothing else, you’d make this interesting.’
When they reached the King’s Men Steph looked around for Holly and Anne. They weren’t there. She scanned the site, back and forth, but she couldn’t see them. They must have decided to wait by the entrance, or left her alone, thinking it a fine joke to leave her with Kix. ‘Holly!’ she shouted, starting to run, and suddenly Kix was in front of her, and he was laughing. When she heard that laughter, she knew it wasn’t any use. Tears sprang to her eyes. Kix put both hands to her shoulders, not holding tightly but steadying her. ‘There, there,’ he said. His voice was kind, but those eyes were hard. He indicated the stones. ‘Count,’ he said. ‘That’s all you have to do. Count them.’
Steph took a deep breath. He was taller than her, and she knew he would be faster; there was no use in running. She looked around, found the tallest stone, and began to count.
She had thought it would be harder in the dark, but somehow it was easier. Each stone shone in the moonlight, standing out clearly against the dark grass. Kix stayed in the middle of the circle, turning slowly like the hand of a clock. She glanced towards him, almost lost her place; but no, she’d counted the small one, was on to the next. She went slowly, carefully. Then she was back at the starting point and she opened her mouth, but Kix spoke first.
‘I’ll give you a clue, little Stephanie,’ he said. ‘There are seventy-seven. Have you counted them all? I’ll know if you’re lying.’
She met his glance. ‘You’re the liar,’ she said. ‘There are seventy-six.’
He made a slight bow. ‘Again,’ he said.
Steph’s heart beat faster as she made her way around the circle for the second time. When she reached the end, she let out a long breath. ‘Seventy-six,’ she said.
‘Again.’
And she began. This time, as she went, she started to remember the things Holly and Anne had told her: that the stones could tell fortunes. That they were soldiers turned to stone. That fairy-folk lived beneath them, waiting to drag prisoners down under the ground. Which world did you want to see?
She shook her head, terrified she would lose count. No: she was up to that one, the reddish stone that stood a little apart from the others. She forced herself to concentrate, knew she was reaching the end when she started to count into the seventies. Seventy-three. Seventy-four. Seventy-five . . . no, that wasn’t right. The seventy-fifth stone was the tallest, the starting point: she had counted it already. Seventy-four.
‘Well?’ Kix was there.
She stared at him. I’ll know if you’re lying.
‘Seventy-six,’ she said.
He reached out, quicker than she could see, and grabbed her arm. His fingers were long and narrow and hard as steel. ‘Liar.’
She tried to pull away.
‘How many?’
Steph was crying now, crying and struggling. ‘Seventy-four. Seventy-four.’
His grip on her arm relaxed and he started to laugh. Steph pulled back, hard, almost fell; and suddenly she was free, she could move, and she was running, careering down the hillside as fast as she could.
Two figures rose in front of her. They didn’t look like the figures she knew. They were taller somehow, and their shapes were wrong, too thin; they were blocking her path, and their eyes were cold.
Steph stopped in front of them, gasping for breath. It was Holly and Anne, but they were different: different in a way that reminded her of Kix.
‘Bring her back,’ came a commanding voice from the stones: and they did.
Holly and Anne held onto Steph and she couldn’t shake them off. Kix stood in front of her, peering into her eyes as if he could see through her. He smiled. ‘Do you see?’ he asked. ‘Do you see now?’
Those eyes bored into her and she couldn’t look into them. She looked away, saw instead the stones; motionless, silent stones.
‘How many are there, Stephanie?’
‘Seventy-seven,’ she whispered. ‘I get it now. But one of them was you, and you weren’t in the circle: and then two mo
re were gone. But there were always seventy-seven.’
He smiled that knowing smile. ‘Wrong again,’ he said, and he stepped forward and breathed on her, and he put the cold inside her, and it grew; and Steph only heard him faintly as everything began to dim.
‘Seventy-eight,’ he said.
The days passed, and then the seasons. Autumn came, and it felt like everything was dying: and then winter with its hollow slowness, and the struggle began to sap from Stephanie’s being. Not that she had struggled, not really; not only because she couldn’t move, didn’t move, but because struggle was no longer part of her make-up. And then winter melted away and spring came, and summer, and after a time the seasons flickered by like days; one after the next as the world turned, and she turned with it, her roots sinking deeper into the earth and becoming one with it, as a tree might.
There was no hunger, no thirst. Only the endless cold.
She saw people, too. They came and went, momentary darting things like dragonflies settling for a moment before moving on. Sometimes they stayed by the stones; they came and lit candles, or sat in a ring with their eyes closed, or sang, or dressed the stones with flowers. She wondered if her mother missed her; if her father did. And then she noticed, somewhere in the back of her consciousness, that the visitors began to appear different as their styles and modes of dress began to change.
Which world did you want to see?
Always, she felt Kix’s presence. She dimly remembered a time when she had railed against it, but as the days passed, she found she couldn’t remember why; and after a time, it became a comfort.
On some occasions, when visitors came and walked the circle, she would feel Kix leave her side and he would walk among them. Sometimes they saw him and sometimes they didn’t; sometimes he was older and sometimes younger, but Steph always knew it was him.
Sometimes Holly and Anne left the circle and spoke with some wanderer they found there. At those times Steph would remember how it had felt to ride on the back of a bicycle, her legs outstretched to feel the rush of freedom: to talk about the future, to plan, to laugh.