"I... I... I am not sure! For a moment, time seemed to stop. I felt as if I could see more clearly, that there was never any doubt that each shot would hit its target. It was almost as if someone or something had taken control of me."
"I would guess that the Moonstone is part of the answer, Peter. I have told you that you are the Moonchild. Clearly, you and the stone are meant to be together and I believe that together you wield great power."
"However you did it, I thank you." Ravenscort added.
"We now have more pressing problems. It appears we are safe from the wolves whilst we remain in the circle, but are we safe in its domain? There is a very deep power here that we, and the wolves, can feel. They know to stay out, but we had no such choice."
He rose and patrolled the boundary just inside the stones. He seemed to take great care to stay within the Hang and not to touch any of the standing monoliths. He returned to where the others were awaiting.
"Well, the pack is still out there. They are still circling and I don't think they are going anywhere in a hurry. Any ideas?"
Peter looked at both his companions and shrugged his shoulders. Somehow they still expected to him to decide their course of action. He supposed it was fair, as they were on his world, in his territory, but this was no longer the place he knew. In his England wolf packs did not hunt, mechanical men did not attack and certainly, as far as he was aware, six other worlds did not exist. And yet, this was what he had experienced since entering the garden only a few days before. In less than a week he had seen things that were impossible. He had witnessed murder, magic, killed wolves with skills he didn't possess, seen evil and been told it was his role to save the seven worlds. It all seemed so unreal. It was then that he thought, "Am I going mad? Is that the answer? Maybe I am having a breakdown? How can I tell if this is real?"
Nightjar was looking at him with understanding, but hurt in her eyes.
"It is real, Peter. You are the Moonchild. I understand how you must be questioning everything that is happening. I tell you, I find it hard to take in the wonders of your world."
She looked alone and afraid at this moment and Peter realised that he wasn't the only one struggling with a new reality. She believed in him and he was sure that he wanted to meet her faith with all his heart. Nightjar was a paradox of strength and vulnerability. If she could believe in him then maybe he could start to believe in himself. He took her hand in his, looked into her eyes and said,
"Nightjar, I am sorry if I doubted what you said. I am in your debt. You and Ravenscort have helped me ever since I arrived in Demeter and I have never really thanked you. I will do what I can to meet your faith in me, or die trying. I only hope that I do not prove to be a great disappointment."
He drew the others to him and held them tight. After a few moments they parted and they suddenly realised that they were no longer alone.
A figure walked into the circle. Tall, skeletally thin dressed in grey, the figure had a blue grey appearance that was almost transparent. His face was stern, deeply lined and weary, but spoke of power and nobility. Upon his head was a circlet and at his hip was a sword that reached almost to the ground. Walking slowly with steady strides, he reached the centre of the circle and faced the three.
Peter felt he was in the presence of power and great age. All realised that their futures were in the balance. The more they saw, the more they became aware of the insubstantial nature of the king. There was no doubt that they were in the presence of a king and one that was truly as old as the hill they stood upon. His outline remained solid, but his body ebbed and flowed transparency, as if his presence required power and concentration that was difficult to maintain. His eyes watched the three and seemed to be searching, judging each in turn. They were not sure how long they stood there looking at each other, but finally the grey king spoke.
"Why have you brought it here?"
The three looked at each other, unsure how to react. Peter finally replied.
"The moonstone? You mean the moonstone!"
The grey king just looked at him with unblinking eyes that seemed to see right through him.
"You are the bearer of the stone. Why have you brought it here? Here, of all places?"
"I don't know. Something drew me here. I didn't know what it was, but I just had to come. We were attacked by the wolves and I knew we should come here. That we would be safe here."
"Safe here? You don't know the danger you are in, child! Show me the stone."
Peter felt in his pocket and the stone felt cool to his touch. Without hesitating he drew out the stone and held it in his out held hand, palm up. The stone was egg size, with a surface like ground glass. It had a milky green hue and seemed to have a depth that was ever changing.
The grey king drew in a deep breath and suddenly the stone burst into light, dazzling Peter and his companions. A blinding ray, the width of the stone circle burst upwards with shimmering edges and lightning seemed to flicker around the perimeter. The column reached up to the heavens and the blue sky was blotted out and replaced with the cosmos. The Milky Way was clear against the black of the void and the stars danced to the celestial song.
Sight restored, Peter, Nightjar and Ravenscort, could only gaze in awe.
"See what power you hold, stone bearer? You would bring this here to me? Do you tempt me, child? I have power enough. I was mortal, but no more and the years grow heavy on my shoulders. The ages I have seen weary me. When I was young I lusted for power and I have paid a terrible price. The stone is not mine. Keep it! I no longer desire what I did in my youth. I could try and take it, but I will not."
"The moonstone has been given to me, but I don't know how to use it for good. I did not intend to bring it to you. I don't know who you are, but something drew me to this place. If you won't take the stone, then maybe you can give me advice. What should I do? What is the stone? It is said that I will vanquish Fell Craven, but I have no idea what to do or where to go. Can you help me?"
At this, the grey king's face softened.
"It is a heavy burden you have been given. At this time none can bear it for you, but I have looked into the hearts of your companions and they will serve you well, but even they cannot make the decision for you. In the end you will decide your fate, their fate and the fate of the seven worlds. I can tell you that the Moonstone is one of the seven stones. All seven stones together, one for each of the worlds, made up the Moondial. The Moondial controlled the seven worlds and kept the laws of time since the Creation. Fell Craven broke the Moondial and the stones returned to their worlds and the worlds are adrift. This has broken many of the barriers that kept the worlds apart and, with the passing of time, will break them down even further. Fell Craven wants this to happen so that he can spread out of Demeter to the other worlds and bring them all under his power. Individual stones have different properties and each is very powerful, but together in the Moondial they will prevent this from happening. The seven seals on the Moondial will prevent Craven from achieving his aim, but he will still rule Demeter. You have many choices, Peter Calender. Yes, I know who you are!
If you can bring the seven stones back together with the Moondial, then Fell Craven will be trapped, but not defeated. If you can defeat Craven before you re-establish the Moondial, then the laws of time will return and Demeter saved. Sounds easy, Peter? No? I thought not. The task is beyond any man, but not maybe beyond a boy, soon to be a man.
To make your situation more difficult, Peter, there are others who want the stone you have and the other stones. It is they that sent you here and that have beset you. Craven has no power on Earth yet. Others, I can only guess who they are, want your stone and they will stop at nothing to get it. The wolves are still outside the circle and they will wait for you to leave."
"What can we do, then?" asked Peter.
"There I think I can help."
He threw up his arms and a series of silvery lines radiated out from the boundary of the stone circle. The lines pierced
the blackness and spread across the countryside. One line touched the top of a craggy hill and then split into several further lines.
"There you see the Ley Ways. These are lines of power. Pathways that touch all parts. I can help you travel the way and give you a head start on the beasts that hunt you. This way will take you to Orncliffe Crag and from there you must make your own way. The only further advice I can offer is that you must face whoever is hunting you. I am not sure who or what it is, but I believe they must hold one of the other stones to wield such power. Gather the stones, Peter Calender. Put the worlds back into the laws of time. Bring peace back to the seven worlds and allow me to rest in peace. I can do no more!"
The grey king began to fade.
"Farewell, Peter." He turned to his companions. "Protect the stone bearer. All our fates are in your hands!"
So saying, he faded away. The moonstone began to dim and the Ley Way stretched out in all directions and one began to shine brighter than the others.
"Quick," Ravenscort cried. "Take to the path. Run!"
Hastily that the party ran to the edge of the circle where the Ley Way reached across the countryside. Without stopping the three ran onto the line and found themselves drawn away at tremendous speed. Peter turned to glance back to see the circle return to normal and the wolves pour in. Great howling and yelping could be heard as he saw the beasts wander aimlessly around unable to locate their quarry.
Turning back, Peter only just managed to realise that they had arrived at their destination and the three tumbled on the grass covered hilltop. Staggering to their feet, the three took in their surroundings. They were standing on the top of a craggy hill with steep cliffs falling on three sides. They could see the stone circle on the top of Stangfell Hang in the distance, but the Ley Way was no longer visible. The afternoon sun bathed the hill top and the blue sky was dotted with fluffy white clouds that cast their shadow on the countryside below. The view below showed the re-enactment well underway and the two forces were still busily engaged in mortal combat. Large crowds were still gathered around the scene and the village of Lightholm was just beyond. Life in the area was clearly unaware of the events that had unfolded around them.
There was a sense of relief that they had evaded the wolves, but also a realisation that this was only a temporary respite.
"Hurry, let's get down to the battle. We can lose any pursuit in the crowds."
Nightjar and Ravenscort nodded their agreement and the three made their way down the steep hillside flanked with the tall, rough slabs of Orncliffe Crag. At the base of the rocks and boulders, the land took a more gentle descent through green pastureland divided by hedges and dry-stone walls. They relaxed a little as they made good progress towards the crowds that they could just hear in the distance. The air was still warm and the gentle breeze stirred up the aromas of the countryside. They passed a herd of cows, patiently chewing the cud and enjoying the peace of rural England in summer. The three almost forgot the danger they still faced, when carried on the wind, there was the sound of baying. The wolves were back on the scent.
"We must hurry!" Ravenscort took the lead and his previously amble became a fast jog. The sound began to become louder and it was clear that the wolves were gaining and that it would be a race to reach the safety of the crowds. They had just cleared a dry-stone wall and could see the tents and flags fluttering and hear the loud shouts and cries from the re-enactment and the spectators, when the wolves appeared behind them. The dark shapes moved in formation across the green sward and swept into line as they leapt a limestone barrier and caught sight of their quarry. A wild cry rang out from their throats and they quickly sought to cover the distance that separated them from their prey.
Peter realised that it was touch and go. There were only a few hundred yards separating them and this provided all the impetus he needed to break out into a sprint. The weapons and clothing were not ideal for the task, but necessity prevailed and they could see the field of battle open up before them. All three were scrambling over the last wall, when they heard the wolves. This time it was clear that they had lost the race. The wolves, en masse, leapt over the dividing barrier and seeing the crowds before them they changed mid-flight. The transformation was both startling and amazing and, for a second, the three just stopped and stared in awe.
Wolves left the ground, but men dressed as Saxons landed and regained their footings. Weapons were drawn and Peter, Nightjar and Ravenscort found themselves facing a large band of well armed and badly intentioned force of muscled warriors. The numbers were not on their side and the three backed away, never taking their eyes off the advancing warriors. Now only a hundred meters away from the re-enactment, Peter regretted their casual pace earlier and wondered if it would be the death of them all. Ravenscort drew his blade and advanced on the once-wolves. The nearest, axe in hand, had an expression of hatred and loathing.
"Get ready to die, trekker. You didn't think you could escape."
The once-wolf charged at Ravenscort. Ravenscourt stood his ground, balanced, waiting. The frenzied attacker seemed to have little care for his own safety and charged with wild abandonment. Ravenscort side-stepped at the last moment, feigned to one side and ran the attacker through the midriff. He drew back his blooded blade, watched the once-wolf fall, eviscerated, dying, like a marionette with severed strings. No cry came from its lips and his companions advanced to take his place. Peter was shocked. He had not witnessed how ugly death could be. He and Nightjar drew their own blades and moved to stand with Ravenscort. The once-wolves advanced, more cautious than before. The three waited for the final assault. They were heavily outnumbered and, despite Ravenscort's obvious skill, it was only a matter of time before they would be overrun. The next two attacked and Ravenscort had the mark of them, blocking the first's blade, he spun around and, with a sweep of sword, his assailant's head was sent spinning to the ground. A fountain of blood sprayed into the air, and there was a thud as the head rolled down onto the turf. The second aggressor lunged, but again Ravenscort was ready and his blade caught him in the thigh. With a shrill cry, the attacker collapsed, his weapon dropped, hands clasping his leg. There would be no further fight from this one, thought Peter.
Others now advanced and Peter's attention was taken by two well built axe swinging foes, preparing to decapitate him. Never having used a sword in battle, the skirmish with the mechanical men did not really count, Peter was unsure how to defend himself. He dropped below the two circling blades, and swept his weapon in a wide arc. It was not pretty, but it was effective and both once-wolves fell to the ground, dropping their weapons and yelping as blood flowed from savage cuts to their legs. From the angle of their ankles it was clear that bones had broken. Nightjar was facing another, carrying a broadsword. The attacker stood and almost laughed at the girl. Clearly he did not see much of an opposition, but this proved to be a fatal misjudgement. Whilst he paused, she moved in a fluid manner that was almost a blur. Jumping high, she kicked him in the chest, sending him flying onto his back. She took the advantage, leapt forward and with a swift flash of bright steel, slashed him across his throat, sending another spray of red to stain the green of the grass.
The once-wolves hesitated and the three took this as an opportunity to put some distance between themselves and the enemy. In a quick sprint the three got within forty yards of the re-enactment. They hadn't realised it, but their fight had been observed by a group of Viking warriors. The Vikings approached with admiration on their faces.
"I say, that was mighty impressive! From what I could see here, that was the most lifelike battle I've ever witnessed. Must have taken some rehearsal to get so good!" said Hardgrist.
"Tis you!" cried Ravenscort, recognising the Viking as the one who had insulted Nightjar earlier in the day. Despite misgivings, he had to put his pride aside as needs must.
"We need your aid, fellow. They outnumber us and you and your men would balance the scales."
"I thought you'd never ask," sai
d Hardgrist. "Men! With me! We have a battle to fight!"
He turned to Ravenscort.
"Then we'll forget the little misunderstanding, eh?"
Hardgrist and his Viking warriors surged towards the advancing once-wolves. They realised that they no longer had the advantage of numbers and they stood their ground as if awaiting orders. The Vikings advanced at a run and there was the clash of steel on steel. The skirmish was fast and by the looks of some of the Viking faces, was more frenzied than they thought. It did not last long, as suddenly the once-wolves turned and ran back towards the hills. The Vikings cheered and waved their weapons, shouting some rather unpleasant things at their fleeing adversaries, that questioned their parentage.
Peter, Nightjar and Ravenscort watched as the once-wolves approached the dry-stone wall, leapt and again, mid-stride, changed back into their wolf forms. The Vikings did not see this as they were still celebrating their victory. There was a lot of back slapping and bonhomie as they made their way to where the three were waiting.
One or two of the Vikings were nursing a few nasty looking cuts. Hardgrist had a long jagged cut to his left cheek. There was considerable blood flow, but none of the warriors were badly injured.
"Someone needs to tell those fellows that this is a game." said Hardgrist. "Someone could get seriously hurt."
Ravenscort slapped him on the back.
"Well done, fellow! What is your name? We are in your debt."
"What else could we do? We weren't going to let them play unfair, were we, boys?"
There was a round of loud approval and cries of,"It must be time for a beer!"
Peter shook Hardgrist's hand vigorously and thanked him over and over. Nightjar was distracted following the wolves progress back up the hill and also noted how the fallen once-wolves began to fade and every trace of their existence disappeared from the battlefield. She turned and joined in thanking the weary Vikings.
The wider battle was also drawing to a conclusion. The weary fighters were starting to gather in groups, pack their weapons and belongings together and head back towards Lightholm. Many returned to their cars and many sought out the public houses. The crowds of spectators were also starting the long trek towards their cars and home.
The Moonchild (The Moondial Book 1) Page 10