Solstice at Stonewylde

by Kit Berry

  Grizzled head bowed, she channelled her mind into a tight stream of concentration, focusing on the two she knew could be the saviours of Stonewylde. The brightness in the darkness – this was their night. All hung on the outcome of this conflict and she must do everything in her feeble power keep them safe. They must be allowed to fulfil their destiny.

  Muttering softly, Mother Heggy took a sip from her goblet and a toothless bite of the small cake. Her furrowed face creased further as she concentrated intently on an image of her magical girl from long ago. Calling, calling, Mother Heggy summoned Raven into the battle.

  *

  Harold sat at the top of the great staircase near the main door to Magus’ apartments. All around him the Hall creaked and settled in the darkness. The sky, visible through the enormous windows overlooking the stairs, was just a shade lighter than the gloom inside. Harold’s hands shook violently as he huddled on the top stair, crying silently. He’d never been more terrified in his life.

  He could hear Martin through the locked door. The man seemed to have lost his mind, calling on every dark force to help him escape. Harold sat, too frightened to move, seemingly alone in the vast Hall save for Martin who still pounded on the door. The boy had done his bit to help, preventing Martin from leaving the Hall to help Magus, and he could do no more. Harold longed for everyone to return from the Stone Circle and fill the place with light and noise. The shadows loomed larger and larger all around him as he crouched paralysed on the top stair. The corridor stretched away around like a black tunnel on either side, whilst below, the hall was a pool of deepening, unfathomed darkness He couldn’t even begin to imagine the terrors that Yul faced tonight; this was more than enough for him.

  Leaving the strange fire behind, Sylvie continued up the hill on light feet, her cloak billowing behind her. Senses tingling, Clip followed her closely. He too felt something was wrong, and as they approached the summit his sense of foreboding increased. He knew this spot of old, recognising it as one of the very magical places of Stonewylde, one of the places where the energy was most powerful. But there was something else here tonight – something dark and menacing. Was Magus hidden behind the standing stone? Had Yul’s plan to lure him to Quarrycleave failed? He tried to hold on to Sylvie but she eluded him at every step, desperate to reach the spirals before moonrise.

  As she climbed the last few metres, instinctively avoiding the stones that littered the cold, dewy grass, she slowed. Again she cocked her head, listening. Stepping fearfully now, she approached the huge rock that reared up towards the sky, her hand outstretched.

  Where are my hares and my owl? Why do the spirals not draw me in tonight? What evil cuckoo squats in my moon nest?

  Her foot brushed one of the mounds that had no place on this hill. Clip had a sudden flash of understanding and tried to save her – but too late. In a flurry of movement and screams, the three shapes unfurled from the ground into solid, flailing figures that surrounded the girl and enfolded her in a wall of stinking flesh and musty cloth. She cried out, struggling as their talons dug into her, and Clip yelled in dismay. He tried to grab one of them but she turned on him with a snarl, her face a mask of rotten teeth and wrinkles in the near darkness.

  ‘Stand at bay!’ she cried. ‘You will not touch us, nor will you take another step. We are protected and you cannot move!’

  To his horror, Clip found himself rooted to the spot and unable to move at all. Fear clutched his heart at the strange sensation of being turned to stone. This was the power of the crones and their dark magic, held in abeyance for so many years ready, at this moment, to rear up in dreadful triumph.

  Old Violet cackled horribly and the other two joined in, their voices shrill and hoarse. Clip tried to call out, knowing there should be a group of men in the vicinity to protect them. Surely they must’ve heard the terrible noise? He couldn’t open his mouth to warn them but he heard voices and then the band of woodsmen arrived, spread out around the approach to the summit.

  ‘Stay!’ cried Violet, sweeping her raised arm and staff towards them all. ‘You will come no further! Old Violet commands this and you are bound by my spell. Stand where you are!’

  Sylvie was becoming frantic, for the moonrise was imminent. The binding spell that paralysed every man seemed to have no effect on her as the Frost Moon drew closer and her agitation grew. She fought the crones, flinging her arms about and trying to break free. But there were three of them and their grip was strong and powerful as they capered, prodding her and pulling at her hair.

  ‘Oh aye, moongazy maiden! Can’t wriggle out now, can you? Where’s your moon magic now?’ cried Starling in delight.

  ‘Get her down on the ground!’ shrieked Violet. ‘Pull her off her feet, sisters, and then we can hold her down flat ready for the Moon Fullness moment. That’s when we’ll cut her! That’s when we’ll mark her and spoil her!’

  ‘Aye, pull her down!’ shouted Vetchling, wrenching at Sylvie’s arms, yanking at her hair. With vicious fingers the three crones snatched at Sylvie who, outnumbered and overmatched, still struggled violently.

  ‘Get her down!’ screamed Violet again. ‘Starling, you pin her down – you’re the biggest and strongest!’

  Their attack grew more vicious and Sylvie’s struggles became more frenzied, but she was caught in the snare of moongaziness and unable to think or act straight. Starling used her massive weight and size to bludgeon her down, and as Sylvie fell to the ground, threw herself on top.

  My Bright Lady comes and I must dance! Let me free!

  ‘Eh? What’s she saying? What tongue is that?’ gasped Starling, heaving herself forward on hands and knees.

  ‘No matter – we’ll cut it out and Magus won’t care if she’s forever silent!’ screeched Violet. ‘Keep her down, Starling – she’s still thrashing about!’

  The huge woman let her whole weight fall across Sylvie, her rolls and mounds of solid, heavy flesh settling, crushing her to the earth. Sylvie couldn’t move beneath her, and Clip and the woodsmen looked on helplessly, rigid as a ring of standing stones circling the hill, unable to move a muscle to protect the magical girl. Whilst Sylvie lay squashed on the ground with Starling spread bulkily over her torso and Vetchling holding down her legs, Violet was busy in her old bag rummaging for the things she needed. Triumphantly she produced her sharp knife, bone handled and sheathed in a worn leather case, and cackled again gleefully.

  ‘Aye, now I have it! Now we can mark the maiden and spill her blood on this ground. No more moongazing here, once we’ve done! Starling, hold her down hard now and use all your weight – I don’t want no wriggling from her at all. As the Frost Moon rises I shall draw her blood and then we’ll have her tongue out!’

  ‘Magus’ll thank us for that!’ cried Vetchling. ‘She don’t need a voice to give him what he wants on the stone at Mooncliffe!’

  Sylvie tried to squirm, frantic to greet the moonrise, but the huge weight spread across her was overwhelming and she could barely breathe. Feebly she moved her head but Violet grasped her chin in a claw-like grip and hissed at her to keep still or she’d be cut badly, and even in Sylvie’s moongazy state this warning penetrated.

  ‘’Twon’t be too long now till moonrise,’ said Starling comfortably.

  Violet released Sylvie’s chin and began to scrabble at the little part of her upper body that emerged from beneath the enormous woman, trying to release the clasp of the cloak round her neck so she could reach skin.

  ‘Shift yourself a little, Starling,’ she muttered. ‘I need to get to her flesh …’

  But as she clawed at Sylvie, her long broken nails catching on the rows and rows of diamonds, Violet’s fingers closed around the old leather pouch around the girl’s neck. The thong snapped and the bag came away in her hand. She let out a piercing scream and the air filled with a sharp smell of burning flesh. The crone flung the pouch away from her, clutching her blackened hand and howling with pain.

  ‘What’s ado, sister?’ cried Vetchling
, releasing Sylvie’s legs and twisting round. ‘Why do you scream?’

  Starling too had rolled aside and half lay on the ground like a great seal, struggling to get up.

  ‘’Tis a toad bag!’ screeched Violet in agony. ‘The maid wears a toad bag! Look – my hand is burnt!’

  The other two women managed to scramble to their feet hastily and stepped back from Sylvie in horror.

  ‘What?’ said Starling. ‘A toad bag? Who’s gave her that?’

  ‘’Tis that old hag Heggy,’ moaned Violet, trying to blow on her seared flesh. ‘’Tis her doing, as ever. I smell Raven here when I never thought to again in this world. There’s things of her in that toad bag, powerful things as I can’t o’erpower with my magic. The girl is encharmed, sisters, and there’s aught we can do to touch her tonight.’

  The three of them spat in unison on the ground, and suddenly the spell was broken. Clip almost fell forward and quickly knelt over Sylvie, who still lay dazed and crushed on the cold ground, her eyes vacant and her hair spread out around her. The group of woodsmen charged up, grabbing the three women roughly.

  ‘Get off!’ screamed Violet. ‘Don’t touch us with your filthy hands! Be warned – we three are protected and you’ll all suffer.’

  The men backed off fearfully, many making the sign of the pentangle in the air.

  ‘Go back to your cottage, then,’ said Clip, gently helping Sylvie to her feet and adjusting her cloak around her. ‘You and your dark magic have no place here.’

  ‘We have our place everywhere,’ hissed Violet. ‘And who are you to be ordering us about, Son o’ Raven? You’re the one who has no place here, nor this skinny spawn of yours! She don’t belong here nor ever will.’

  ‘Aye, she has no place here. Never the crone! You’d do well to heed my sister, Raven-whelp!’

  ‘My daughter belongs at Stonewylde and you’ll curb your tongues and wicked ways or be sent away, all three of you,’ he said firmly. ‘Go home or these men will drag you there.’

  ‘They know better’n to spite us,’ spat Violet. ‘They know better’n to cross our paths. You wait, you runt o’ the litter. Your end will come soon enough, and I know the one that’ll take you there too. A proper man, he is, not like you, ever the lame gelding.’

  ‘Come, let’s get back to our warm cottage,’ said Starling. ‘We done our work here tonight.’

  ‘Aye, you speak true, daughter. This place is tainted now and we marked it proper. We know, us three. We know what’ll come about in time.’

  Muttering spiteful threats, the women hobbled away down the hill escorted from a safe distance by the woodsmen. They all took up their positions in the fields below, shaken by the encounter with the crones but anxious to protect Sylvie from further threat.

  Clip stood beside the great stone with his daughter waiting for the moonrise. She faced the north-east where the full moon rose at the Winter Solstice; exactly the same place as the Summer Solstice sunrise. Her scarlet cloak was flung back as she raised her arms to the heavens. Early stars glittered in the cold night air. The sky was clear and bright, perfect for the Moon Fullness. Sylvie’s mass of silver hair flowed around her, cascading onto the scarlet velvet as she stood with her wings held high.

  She began to sing the strange moondance music. The hares, crouching and hidden further down the hill, raised their long, velvet ears and sat up on their hind legs. The first sliver of bright buttery yellow appeared on the horizon far out to sea. The girl’s wild voice soared in glory and the hares turned towards the water to gaze with glinting eyes.

  Yul felt the strange spirals of moon magic in the eggs at his feet and tried to keep his distance from them. Their magic was cold and liquid, like quicksilver threading around him. It was different to the deep, hot magic of the earth and he didn’t want any of Sylvie’s gift. He needed the earth spirals and the sun brushing his face, not this silver and black energy. But the eggs were key to luring Magus onto the platform.

  Just as he thought this, Yul heard an engine approaching in the distance, the sound echoing off the stone around him. His heart lurched – at last! The plan had worked and Magus had fallen for his ruse. The lights tilted in and out of sight as the Land Rover jolted up the track, and then the noise and lights cut out. Yul heard a car door slam – no – he heard three car doors slam! His heart began to thump very slowly and very hard. Magus had arrived and he hadn’t come alone.

  21

  ‘Remember,’ said Magus softly, ‘catch him but don’t kill him unless you really have to. And don’t touch the girl. We’ll split up and meet at the head of the quarry. I want the two of you to keep out of the quarry itself for now – you’d probably get lost down there in the dark.’

  ‘No torches?’

  ‘No! No torches – we must surprise him. The moon’ll be up soon anyway. You can both skirt around the quarry, up on the hill, and head up to the summit. Split up and go separately, one to each side, and watch out for the boulders up there. There’s a chance he may be on the hill rather than in the quarry, though I doubt it. Don’t get too close to the edge – it’s a steep drop. I’ll make my way through the quarry itself and meet you up there.’

  ‘So we wait up there for you?’

  ‘Yes, and keep very quiet until we know where he is – though I imagine he’s got her on the Snake Stone by now. He’ll have heard the Land Rover so he’ll know we’ve arrived, but won’t know our exact whereabouts. We’ll take him by surprise.’

  Yul stood on the rock considering the consequences of three people arriving. How could he fight them all? This should be one to one, as he’d insisted to all those who’d wanted to help him. He should’ve realised Magus would never play fair. Suddenly a black shape appeared in the gathering gloom and brushed past. It uttered a loud caw and circled him. Yul smiled; now he had reinforcements too. The crow landed in a flurry on his shoulder, sidestepping and pecking gently at his ear. He murmured to it, grateful to Mother Heggy for sending her emissary. He looked down but could see nothing below in the dark.

  But then slowly, silently a huge yellow disc emerged from the purple haze on the horizon. Peering over the ridgeway was the moon, and he thought of his beloved Sylvie. He imagined her at this moment raising her arms and transforming into a moon angel, dancing the spirals at Hare Stone. Yul sighed, wishing he could be with her now … The crow croaked in his ear and took off, sailing down into the huge black pit below and Yul knew he must follow.

  The two men, on opposite sides of the great quarry, were finding it hard going. Both were tough and completely ruthless, but their experience was all in city gangland. This terrain was very different and there was no street lighting; the darkness at Stonewylde was absolute and the moon was still too low to give any light. They trod carefully, wary of the quarry edge and unsure of where the paths lay. Both were wondering what they’d got themselves into, but they were professionals and would see the job out. Stealthily, they continued to pick their way up the hillside to the top of the quarry as instructed.

  Magus stepped down into the shallow mouth of the quarry and took a deep breath. Memories flooded in – not from recent visits but from long back, when he was a lad of about Yul’s age. He’d always loved Quarrycleave, savouring its darkness and danger. Something within him responded to the deadly lure of this place, revelling in the malignance that lurked in the stone labyrinth. He knew most people feared the place but that only added to his sense of belonging.

  And now, on the eve of the Winter Solstice with everything at stake, Magus found himself empowered by the menace within the quarry. He felt a dark energy feeding him, fuelling his thirst for blood to be spilled. This was another kind of Stonewylde magic, and one which the three crones would understand. His fingertips tingled with it, every hair on his body alive and quivering with alertness. He knew the beast lurking in the ancient labyrinth was on his side.

  He trod carefully as he moved along the dark corridors of stone, sometimes brushing against the ivy-clad walls and occasionall
y stumbling on small rocks in his path. His earlier anger had turned to an icy resolve; first he’d hunt the boy down and finish him once and for all. And Sylvie would watch as a prelude to her own ordeal. He smiled to himself in the darkness and shivered with a sudden rush of bloodlust. Sixteen years he’d waited for this chance, for the binding spell to expire, and now he longed to get his hands on the boy and slowly, carefully, extinguish his life.

  Yul climbed carefully back down the huge, rough steps and boulders into the quarry, feeling his way in the thick darkness. His feet remembered the path and he was soon down in the black depths, the moon not yet visible here as it still hung low and golden in the sky. As soon as he lost sight of it he felt cut off from Sylvie and her brightness, and terror clutched at his heart as he entered the maze of stone passages. All his fears about Quarrycleave, instilled during his exile here six months ago, came back in a rush. Something monstrous waited for him just around the corner, stalking him as prey, craving his blood.

  Magus was here too, hidden somewhere in the stone web, and Yul was sure that the two others were up on the hillside outside the quarry. He’d heard noises from both sides and wondered who Magus had brought with him. Hallfolk, surely – no Villager would’ve helped Magus against him. Yul moved silently and stealthily through the high canyons of stone, heart beating loud in his ears as he searched for Magus. The crow had disappeared. Yul heard a sound and froze, knowing that Magus was close by. The ivy was thick here, swarming up the stone walls, and Yul melted into a crack in the rock shielded by the leaves.

  Magus approached quietly but Yul heard his breathing, deep and heavy, and his feet made small noises on the loose stones. Yul could smell him too, the exotic scent he wore mingling with something more primeval; the fresh sweat of a strong, fit man hunting his prey. Yul picked up a small stone and threw it far ahead and Magus paused, then hurried forward. Yul grinned, feeling the thrill of outwitting his hunter. He still had no idea how he was to overthrow his father, now that he’d lured him here, but at present simply keeping him away from Sylvie at the moonrise was enough. Time for the conflict later, when all danger to his moongazy girl had passed.