Solstice at Stonewylde

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Solstice at Stonewylde Page 35

by Kit Berry


  ‘Blessings, Yul. You’re a good lad and I’m proud of you. I’ll be within my circle tonight as the sun sets and the moon rises and I’ll do all I can for you. No! Don’t say you need none o’ my help! We all want that man gone and if I can call upon any of the forces, then I will. Don’t imagine tonight will be easy, Yul. Don’t think that because I made that prophecy sixteen years ago, ‘twill all come to pass as you hope.’

  Mother Heggy sighed heavily and the crow hopped onto her lap. She stroked its glossy plumage with a twisted finger.

  ‘Your father is still very powerful. That man has dark elements on his side that only he can use. And there are ancient echoes of energy and ancient story patterns at Stonewylde still in play. Nought is set in stone. Anything could happen once my spell of protection comes to an end. You could fail tonight, my dark one, and Sylvie could be taken. Did you give her the charm bag? My Raven’s magical things?’

  ‘Yes, Mother Heggy, she has them and she’ll wear them tonight for protection.’

  ‘Well enough – let’s hope they do protect her. Didn’t help my girl in the end, mind you.’ She hung her shrivelled head, her breathing obstreperous. ‘And you, my boy, glowing there with the green magic all sparkling about you – don’t make the mistake of thinking all will go to plan just because Stonewylde loves you. Stonewylde has had her dark times afore, terrible times when all seemed lost and gone. ‘Tis possible we’ll enter those dark times again.’

  Yul stared at her, worry creasing his face. He knelt before her as she crouched in the rocking chair and took her withered hands in his young, strong ones. He looked into her milky eyes, his fierce spirit blazing from within.

  ‘Thank you for your wisdom, Mother Heggy. I heed what you say and I’ll do my best and fight my hardest. I don’t know how this will end but I must trust that the Goddess will watch over me, just as you’ve watched over me my whole life. And if … if I should fail tonight, please help Sylvie. She’ll need you.’

  The old crone nodded.

  ‘Go, Yul – I must sleep for a while. I feel so tired and ‘twill be a difficult night. I’ll look out for the bright one, just as I’ve always looked out for you, the dark one. Bright blessings, young magus.’

  She made the sign of the pentangle over his head and prayed silently to the Goddess to keep him safe. After he’d gone she dozed for a while and when she felt a little stronger, she rose slowly, muttering to herself, and began to prepare everything she needed for the night ahead. She was very frightened; earlier that morning she’d found five black feathers lying on her doorstep. The scrying glass still wouldn’t show her what would happen that evening at sunset, when her binding spell was finally unravelled. Despite a lifetime of magic and practising the craft, the Wise Woman was now as much in the dark as the next person. Except for the message of five – that was as clear as spring water.

  ‘This is all my fault,’ said Hazel sadly as she removed the cuff from Miranda’s upper arm. ‘Your blood pressure’s a little high, which is hardly surprising.’

  Miranda rolled down her sleeve and patted Hazel’s hand.

  ‘It’s not your fault. Don’t even think it.’

  ‘But I brought you here! It was my idea.’

  ‘And what was the alternative? Leave Sylvie to die in London? Come on, Hazel, you did what you thought best and despite everything, I’m pleased you did.’

  She looked down at her enormous pregnant bump and sighed. The baby was kicking again and had been agitated all day. She and Hazel had shared lunch in the hospital wing whilst she had her check-up, unable to face the clamour of the Dining Hall and the oblivious Hallfolk.

  ‘Try to get some rest, Miranda. You look exhausted.’

  ‘Tomorrow, when this whole nightmare is over, I’ll rest. Clip’s coming to fetch me in a minute and you know where we’re going.’

  She stood up and held out her arms to Hazel, who bent in an awkward hug over Miranda’s belly. Unexpectedly the young doctor began to sob silently, the strain of the past weeks released at Miranda’s unexpected show of affection.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Hazel mumbled through her tears. ‘So very sorry it all turned out like this. I was completely fooled by him. I was horrible to poor Sylvie and I blamed her for everything. All the time he’d been making her suffer terribly at the Moon Fullness and I didn’t believe her.’

  ‘We’re all guilty of that, Hazel, me more than anyone. I’m her mother and I should’ve been protecting her. Do you think she’s alright? I’m still so worried about her up being there alone with him. Clip is sure Magus won’t harm her, but …’

  Hazel pulled away and found a tissue.

  ‘I’m sure she’s fine. Just a few hours more and she’ll be safe for ever.’

  ‘But what if it goes wrong this evening? Why won’t Yul do what we all wanted? He should’ve agreed – how can he possibly deal with Magus alone?’

  Hazel shook her head.

  ‘That boy – that young man – is as determined and iron-willed as his father and he insists that he alone must challenge Magus. He says it’s part of the prophecy and although he has the folk behind him, the conflict itself has to be resolved one to one. What can we do?’

  ‘He’ll make a good magus, I’m sure,’ said Miranda, ‘despite his lack of education. We’re all here to help run Stonewylde, but he’s got what it takes to lead the community. There’s something very special and powerful about Yul.’

  ‘Green magic,’ said the doctor. ‘Yul has the green magic now and that’s why he’s so adamant about what must happen tonight. With the Goddess on his side, how could he fail?’

  As soon as the long lunch was over, Magus dragged Sylvie back upstairs. Once they were in his rooms with the door shut, he turned on her furiously, jabbing his finger at her aggressively.

  ‘You need to learn how to behave, young lady! When I allow you downstairs to mix with the Hallfolk, you’ll be sociable and gracious, both to them and to me. You’re never to speak to me in that disrespectful way in front of them. And you’re never to be so greedy either, stuffing food down your throat as fast as you can. Where’s your sense of refinement and decorum? If you behave like that when I let you out, then you won’t go out at all. You’ll stay locked in these rooms until your manners improve. Do you understand?’

  She nodded, her defiance gone now they were alone again. She looked out of the window; it was still bright and sunny but the wind looked cold.

  ‘I’d like to go out for a walk,’ she said. ‘You haven’t let me outside for ages and I need some fresh air.’

  ‘Well you can’t. You’ll get plenty of fresh air tonight.’

  ‘Then I’ll change. This dress is too tight and it’s cutting into me.’

  ‘That’s because you ate too much. No, keep it on – if it’s uncomfortable it serves you right, and maybe it’ll teach you not to be so greedy. I want you to rest for the afternoon, so sit down and read your book.’

  He picked up her book where it lay on the table and handed it to her. Sylvie took it carefully, unsure if the photo was still inside. She went over to the window seat and he followed, unable to leave her alone.

  There was a discreet knock at the door and Martin appeared. He stood respectfully before Magus, paying no attention to Sylvie.

  ‘You said you wanted to speak to me after lunch, sir.’

  ‘Yes, it’s about Mooncliffe tonight.’

  Martin’s glance flicked to Sylvie.

  ‘I’d be glad to assist you, sir.’

  ‘Of course. I want you to go up there now and stack all the eggs around the rock.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Will that be all?’

  ‘No – take a couple of blankets too, and put up the little pavilion ready for us, and the brazier and wood for a fire. I’ll need to keep my moongazy girl warm as she’s going to be there most of the night.’ Magus patted her knee, smooth under the crêpe de Chine. ‘I did warn you, Sylvie – it’s going to be a heavy night.’

  She turned her head away poi
ntedly and gazed out of the window. Magus smiled and looked at Martin, standing so impassive and cold-eyed.

  ‘Oh, and one more thing, Martin.’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Take the other things up there too.’

  ‘The usual, sir?’

  ‘Yes, the usual. Silk cushions, candles, champagne … you know what’s required.’

  The stony-faced man nodded and gave a small smile.

  ‘I know what’s required. And if I might say so sir – about time too.’

  When he’d gone, Magus turned to Sylvie. The blood had drained from her face and he chuckled.

  ‘I see you understood that.’

  She nodded, unable to believe what he was planning for her.

  ‘I simply can’t wait any longer, Sylvie,’ he said. ‘I’m burning up for you – it’s like a fire inside me and it hurts. I’ve heard my father was the same with my mother and I guess it’s the moongaziness. You just don’t understand the effect you have on me.’

  She sat very still, her heart thumping with fear. What if everything went wrong tonight? She had faith in Yul but things had gone wrong before. And she remembered Magus’ phone call – he had help coming soon which would give him such an advantage. What if they overpowered Yul? She’d be weak from the moongazing, unable to fight Magus off, and he was so much bigger and stronger than her anyway. She’d never be able to stop him. Sylvie started to cry softly, the tears rolling down her cheeks and smudging her make-up.

  ‘Don’t cry, my darling. I’ll be so gentle, I promise. I love you, Sylvie, and after tonight, you’ll love me too. I can guarantee that.’

  ‘How can you do this to me if you love me?’ she choked, wiping the tears away impatiently. ‘I don’t want you and I’m too young – I’m not ready for this. There are so many others here and you can have anyone you want at Stonewylde.’

  ‘But I don’t want anyone else. It’s you I crave. You’re the only one who can feed the stones and give me the moon magic I need, and you’re the only one I want to make love to. You’re so beautiful and spirited and there’s something so magical about you … nobody else will do when I can get everything I want and need from you. I won’t wait another six months, Sylvie. I thought I could but I can’t.’

  He pulled out his handkerchief and gently wiped away her tears and mascara. He smiled at her ruefully.

  ‘I’ve certainly never had this reaction before, when I tell a girl she’s been chosen for the Moon Fullness! Please don’t cry, Sylvie – you’ll learn to love me, I promise. Let me get you some mead to help you relax.’

  She groaned as he went over to the cabinet and found her crystal goblet. Still clutching the book, she gazed at the garden through the diamond paned glass, like a bird imprisoned in a cage. Here she sat, passive and confined, awaiting her fate. Sylvie hated being the victim and wanted more than anything to take control of her own life and destiny. She knew the whole community was busy preparing for the Solstice and that Yul would be preparing to implement his plan for her rescue. Everyone knew what was going on except for her. She was completely in the dark, unable to do anything to help herself, yet what happened tonight would determine the rest of her life.

  If Yul failed, she’d never escape Magus’ clutches. He’d keep her prisoner, starved into submission whenever he felt like it, every detail of her life controlled. He’d shower her with gifts, dress her in expensive clothes and jewels, parade her as a prized possession, but he’d never allow her any freedom. He’d dominate her every minute, binding her with his love and his hatred. For despite his protestations of love, Sylvie knew he hated her for her coldness towards him. She’d slowly wither under his obsessive captivity, like a wild bird trapped in a gilded cage.

  Magus returned with her mead, moving across the floor like a great panther. She looked up into his face, so attractive with those strong features and dark eyes, his silvery-blond hair emphasising the perfection of his chiselled cheekbones and jaw. He was tall and muscular, every woman’s dream of a desirable man, and yet he filled her with loathing and dread. He smiled at her as he held out the crystal goblet, his eyes bright with admiration and desire.

  ‘Here you are, my moongazy girl. You look beautiful sitting there like that against the light. I feel—’

  At that moment the photo, still between the pages of the book in Sylvie’s hands, slipped out and fell to the floor. She gasped and quickly tried to cover it up with her foot. Magus frowned and placed the glass very deliberately on a side table.

  ‘Magus, can we—’

  She stopped, having no idea what she could say to distract him. Her mind was paralysed and her heart pounded with dread in the heavy silence. He looked her in the eye and something within him uncoiled itself, slowly and carefully.

  ‘What are you trying to hide from me, Sylvie?’ he asked quietly. ‘What’s this you’re attempting to conceal?’

  He bent and slid the white rectangle from under her shoe. Straightening up, he turned it over and stared full into the face of the Green Man. He saw the foliage in an aura around the head, the thick dark curls full of vegetation, and those clear, grey eyes, slanted and long-lashed, gazing out from the green-smeared face with such clarity. Sylvie froze in absolute terror and Magus raised his eyes to meet hers. He finally realised then, in that moment, that Sylvie would never love him. This boy was the one she wanted, the only one she’d ever love. He, Magus of Stonewylde, was nothing to her and never could be. With a roar of pure animal rage, he ripped the photo in two.

  ‘Why?’ he bellowed. ‘Why him? Why not me?’

  He ripped the photo in half again, and then again, throwing the pieces to the floor and grinding them under his boot in a paroxysm of fury. He snatched up the goblet and flung it violently across the room. It hit the wall and smashed in an explosion of crystal shards and amber liquid. His chest heaved with anger as he glared down at Sylvie, his hands clenching and unclenching, his breathing loud. She curled up as small and tight as her skin-tight dress allowed, burrowing into the corner of the window seat, her face white and eyes enormous with terror. He fell to his knees before her, taking her shoulders in his hands and gripping her tightly. His eyes were wild in his hollow face. His voice was low and trembling, nothing like his normal smooth tone.

  ‘You cut me to the bone, Sylvie. I’ve told you how I feel about you and I laid myself open to you. I offered you something I’ve never offered anyone before, not even the girl I once cared for so many years ago. All I ask for is your love. Why’s that so difficult to give? Every woman I’ve ever noticed has fallen at my feet and been mine for the taking. Nobody’s ever turned their back on me, not wanted me. Why are you so different? How can you love that boy and not me?’

  His voice cracked in anguish and for a terrible moment she thought he was going to cry. She stared at him, mute with fear, and he felt her trembling beneath his hands. Suddenly a white hot rage welled up inside him and with it an overpowering urge to hurt her really badly. To hit her and hit her until she was nothing but a piece of battered debris, her beauty ruined and her spirit smashed. His hands flexed on her shoulders as the desire to destroy her flooded through him. He could do it so easily. Then he saw a pulse beating frantically in her white throat above the diamond choker, like a small trapped bird.

  With a groan he let her go, pushing her violently away from him. She fell back hard against the window. His face was dark with unspent rage and pain. He looked down at the fragments of photo beneath his feet for a long moment and took a deep breath. Then he looked up at Sylvie, his face now under control, his voice like steel.

  ‘Yul will die tonight at my hand and at my pleasure. Because you love him, I shall kill him slowly and his death will not be easy. And then, on that rock, I’ll make you pay. No gentleness and no love in it. You’ll pay every day for the rest of your life for hurting me like this. You’ll wish that you’d loved me while you had the chance, before you turned love into hate. You’ll wish it with all your heart.’

  Sisk
in climbed into a taxi at the station and tipped the porter who’d helped with his suitcase. The porter looked askance at the dapper little man, something from a bygone era with his patent leather shoes, brushed overcoat and hat.

  ‘Stonewylde please,’ said Siskin, closing the car door.

  ‘Where’s that to then, sir?’ asked the taxi driver, clearly a Dorset man.

  Siskin sighed, but in his heart was glad that somewhere the size of Stonewylde had managed to remain unknown even to locals, cloaked in mystery and invisible to the Outside World.

  ‘Take the main road out of town and I’ll direct you,’ replied Siskin. ‘It’s about an hour away.’

  He sat back in the taxi and smiled to himself. Not long now, and he’d be back home where he belonged.

  19

  The intercom on Magus’ desk buzzed. He covered the room in a few long strides and jabbed the switch, picking up the receiver.

  ‘Yes? … Good. No, keep them there. I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes or so to collect them myself.’

  Sylvie looked away quickly as he came over to her. The hired men must have arrived at the Gate House, and once again she desperately hoped her message had got through to Yul. The alternative, so vividly explained by Magus, was too awful to contemplate.

 

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