by Zoe Marriott
“Then strange things started happening. Snow falling in the height of summer, falling from a cloudless sky. Weeks of rain, non-stop, in the dry season. Seeds not sprouting; thorn bushes coming up where a farmer had planted nothing but good corn – and overnight too! The birds stopped singing. The green things started to turn grey. The rivers grew muddy and still. Well … and then the final blow. The king was taking the household away from the Hall. Too old-fashioned, too small. Not grand enough. They were to build a new palace of marble and gold, a place fit for the court – fit for his new wife’s beauty. And all able-bodied men were to go at once to help in the building. With the crops failing in the fields and children starving, he’s taking away our husbands and sons! He sent purses of gold and told us to buy food from the Midland merchants. And when the men didn’t go, he sent soldiers, bought ones, to round them up. My Emrys and my two older boys went five months ago, and I’ve not heard a single word from them since.” She stabbed her needle viciously into the cloth.
“So, us women, we started to think. My daughter and her ma-in-law, and her sisters and their daughters … we gathered together and we talked. At first we said how, one day, the heir must come back. He and his brothers can’t stay banished for ever – not when their people are in need. But how will they know to come back? Why leave at all, if they intended to return? Perhaps they don’t. Ah, but what about the lost lady? She was like her mother – taught in the Old Ways. This enchantress couldn’t hurt her with magic. So even if the heir and the young lords are gone and the king’s lost his mind – the lost lady will find her way home, won’t she? She’ll wait and watch, and one day she’ll come back.”
Olwyn stopped to study her sewing, and then set it aside to look at me. “Oh, you’re not how I expected. You’re battered and begrimed and so weary the firelight shines through you – but you’ve got the wisdom. I can feel it from across the room.” She lifted her head, and the flickering light of the taper seemed to fill her eyes with fire. “It’s in the blood. You’re her daughter. You came back just like we said you would. And now you can save us.”
I sat rigid in the chair, numb as I struggled with the implications of Olwyn’s story. Father, it seemed, was now completely Zella’s creature, sacrificing the good of his people for her whims. My brothers were gone from the Kingdom. And the land … this sad, tired land was the result. Hundreds of years of the Ancestors’ wisdom and my mother’s golden reign ruined in just one year by a foolish old man. And his ineffectual daughter, I reflected bitterly. Don’t forget that.
Perhaps the strange phenomena Olwyn had described were the land’s way of fighting against Zella’s invading evil. Or perhaps they were only a side effect. Whichever, it was clear that she was sucking the life from the Kingdom. Most disturbing of all were the women of the Kingdom, those misguided, dutiful creatures waiting faithfully for their lost lady to return and save them. They believed in this mythical lady. She would free their menfolk and their king from danger and return the land to prosperity single-handed. The weight of their expectation made me want to shrivel into smoke and drift away into the night. Olwyn wanted me to rescue everyone – me, who couldn’t even save herself.
I remembered wryly my childhood dreams, and how I had comforted myself when my brothers’ brilliance and my father’s indifference had made me feel small. I would only be Alexandra, and I would be free. I felt smaller than ever now. Time to face the truth. Zella had thought so little of any danger I might pose that she hadn’t even bothered to kill me; instead she had sent me away like a naughty child. I wondered why she had bothered to call me back. Perhaps to play with, for her own amusement. Who could fathom such a mind as hers?
In any kind of combat with Zella I did not stand a chance. She was cunning and ruthless, a shape-shifter and an enchantress. She had bested my mother, and Branwen had been a wise woman rejoicing in the full bloom of power. I could never defeat Zella alone. Neither could I admit defeat without trying. I sighed deeply as I made the admission to myself. Not while my home and my people needed me so desperately. Not while my brothers wandered in exile somewhere. Not while Zella walked freely in the world enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of the air, and my mother’s ashes shifted restlessly on the wind. It wasn’t too late. The people still remembered the Old Ways. There was still life in the land. It could recover. The people could recover. But before there was any chance of that, Zella had to be defeated.
The first step I must take was to seek out the Circle of Ancestors. Even if my dream was not true, the Circle was a refuge for followers of the Old Ways. I could wake the stones again to speak to the wise women – to Angharad. It would not be easy because I wouldn’t be able to navigate the currents of enaid to find it, and I had no idea where its true location was. Perhaps…
“Olwyn. I do not know if I can do what you want,” I said quietly, meeting her eyes. “But if I am to try, then I need your help.”
“I’ll help however I can,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Then think on this. I need to find a sacred place: we call it the Circle of Ancestors. I do not know where it may lie – I have never travelled to it on foot – but it is a hill, shaped like an upturned bowl with a smooth top and crowned by a circle of tall stones. Do you know of any such place?”
Olwyn tilted her head, thinking. “I have heard of a place like that, though it might not be the one you describe. It is a strange-looking hill, flat on top, where no one ever dares go, though I couldn’t say why. They call it Olday Hill. But I never heard tell of any stones on the top. That doesn’t mean they aren’t there, of course.”
I bit my lip. Surely the stones would be remarkable enough to be talked about, if Olday Hill was the Circle. The name, though, seemed to suggest it had something to do with the Old Ways. “Can you tell me any more about it?”
“Not much, Lady. I’ve never been there myself, you see. There’s a story that a dragon sleeps coiled around the base of the hill, – and he’ll wake if the Kingdom’s ever in peril.” Her lips quirked. “If that’s so, he’s a heavy sleeper.”
I blinked. “A dragon?” My mind worked quickly. The massive ripples in the land that the Ancestors had built with their earthworks: people who knew no better might easily make up a tale to explain them. What more natural than that the story should call the dragon a guardian – for that, in fact, had been the purpose of the building of the Circle. It had to be the place.
“Is it far from here?” I asked.
“Less than half a day’s ride, Lady. Will could lead you there if you wanted; he went that way with his father last year.” She smiled a little sadly, I thought, at the mention of her absent husband. Would Will ever see his father again? He would if I had anything to do with it.
I nodded decisively. “Then we will go tomorrow, if you can spare him.” I looked at her expectant face and tried a smile. “I’ll do my best, Olwyn. That I can promise.”
Whether it would be enough was another matter.
She sighed and closed her eyes, whether in relief or disappointment I couldn’t tell. Then she picked up her sewing again, and settled back.
“You’ll need a good night’s rest then, Lady. You go back to sleep; I’ll watch over you.”
I didn’t bother to argue that I needed no one to watch over me. She would just tell me it was her duty – and besides, it was comforting to have her there. No one had watched over my sleep for a very long time.
For Olwyn’s sake I rested my head against the back of the chair and turned my face away so that she wouldn’t see the telltale gleam of the light in my sleepless eyes.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mists curled up damply from the fields as Will led me to Olday Hill on Mare’s back. The sun had been muffled in cloud from the moment it lifted, and the chill was deep. I huddled deeper into my heavy cloak and looked down at Will’s damp hair. He was well wrapped too, but I worried that the long walk might tell on him. I’d offered several times to dismount and let him ride Mare for a whi
le, but he’d refused with every appearance of repugnance, marching happily on. In truth, even after walking half the morning he seemed haler than I did sitting on the horse. A night’s rest in a warm house and good food had done much to strengthen my body, but the dreary greyness of the day and the fearful anticipation of what might come contrived to sap the energy from me. The Kingdom shouldn’t be like this. I could feel the tiredness of the land in every waft of fog, like the sweet, weary breath of a dying man.
Gradually the lay of the fields under Mare’s hooves changed; we were walking through a series of slowly rising inclines and shallow dips, each one growing more pronounced. The rise and fall of the land was too regular to be natural. These must be the earthworks I had seen from the Circle; we were in the right place.
After a few minutes more I began to feel, on the edge of my perception, a gentle hum, like the sound of bees on a lazy summer afternoon. Inexplicably, my mood began to lift and my breath quickened in my throat. The weak eddies of enaid in the wind and soil that had so depressed me were gaining strength. Soon they had grown into the plentiful rush that I had been used to in the Kingdom. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed the warm buffeting sensation on my skin. I had not felt it since I left my aunt’s house, which seemed like aeons ago. A week? Only a little longer than that. I was a creature of the enaid, and without it I diminished quickly.
I basked in the increasing power. In its rush along the channels of earth, it swirled and broke around me and my body sucked in the warmth and energy. A fizz of excitement began in the pit of my stomach; a low, happy laugh escaped my lips. I was home – really home! The strength of the tides was now enough to intoxicate me. We must be very close.
Will had looked up at my laughter. In my sudden elation it took me a minute to realize that, rather than sharing my pleasure, he looked white and frightened. In the same instant, Mare stopped walking and would not budge, no matter how much I urged her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, addressing both beast and boy.
Rushing and pushing … hurts … too loud … were the sensations Mare conveyed to me. Will was even less communicative. He merely grunted and shook his head as if he was in pain.
“Will, what is it?” I demanded, alarmed.
“Don’t know. Something … my ears. Like water. It wants to push me away.” He lifted his hands as if to cover his ears, then dropped them again.
I was sharply reminded of my brothers’ reactions when Zella had first come to the Hall. All the flow of enaid wanted was to be on its way, and if the path of least resistance was through the fibres and bones of your body, then so be it. Perhaps it could be overwhelming to an untrained person when it was this strong – there had to be a reason why ordinary people never came close enough to see the stones on the hill.
I slung my leg over Mare’s back, wincing at the pull on my heavily bandaged, inner thighs, and slid to the ground. Mare’s shoulder was rock hard and her dapple-grey hide was dark with sweat despite the cold and the easy pace of the walk. I patted her gently, sending reassurances as I unloaded the saddlebags that Olwyn had slung over her withers. The packs were stuffed with all sorts of useful items that I had accepted gratefully, and they weighed comfortingly against my back as I arranged them over my own shoulders.
“This is as far as you need come with me, Will. I want you to take Mare and go home to your mother.”
“Ma said—”
“It’s all right,” I told him firmly. “I can find my own way from here. Please tell your mother that I’m very grateful for all she’s done, and that I will keep my promise. I don’t know if I’ll see her again. She’s not to worry.”
“But—”
“Go on. I want you home before nightfall. Take good care of Mare for me – she’s a fine horse.” I caressed her velvety muzzle a last time, and she managed a gentle nibble of my hair despite her discomfort.
Before he could protest again I turned away, calling on the abundant enaid present to thicken the fog behind me so that I disappeared quickly from view. I waited to hear the quiet thud of Mare’s hooves before I began walking again.
Olday Hill loomed before me, as if it had only waited for me to be alone before it showed itself. Against the shifting white of the mists it looked less like a hill and more like a small black mountain that had sprouted from this flat plain. It seemed unnaturally forbidding – so much so that I wondered if the effect was the first of the protective spells embedded in it. But its shadowy hulk could not frighten me. I had come so far to reach this place; all I had to do was penetrate the protective spells Angharad had spoken of and reach the peak.
As I came closer, I saw that the pattern of coiling ditches continued up the hill itself, curling around its conical shape and creating an effect like giant steps. Perhaps I could follow the path of enaid, circling the hill instead of trying to walk vertically. It would take longer than a straight path, but if I stayed within the ditches surely I could not succumb to any misdirection spell.
The enaid pulsing in my blood would allow no apprehension. I placed my foot in one of the ditches on the steep slope and began to climb.
The fog wreathing the hill made it difficult to choose my steps, but as I had hoped, the lay of the ground and the strong push of enaid at my back made it impossible to go astray, even when, about ten minutes later, I encountered the first of the defences. Touching it was a strange sensation. I could not see a thing, but it was solid and faintly warm beneath my hands, and impenetrable.
A childhood memory gleamed in my mind. My mother in a playful mood, rubbing soap in her hands and then circling finger and thumb to blow a fragile, iridescent bubble. It had landed on my skin, trembling for an instant before disappearing with an almost inaudible pop. That was how the barrier felt under my hands. I pushed against it, and slowly it yielded to let me through. Heady with pulsing enaid, it hardly occurred to me to feel surprise at how easily the barrier gave way, though I did wonder if the spells recognized me. I emerged unruffled on the other side and carried on. The further I travelled, the closer together the barriers came; but they did not trouble me.
Then my head broke out of the fog. Brilliant sunshine, the deep, honey gold of late autumn, flowed down to warm my scalp and face, spilling over my shoulders and arms, my hips, and then to my feet as I rose higher. My final step took me over the lip of the hill onto the plateau, between two of the towering stones.
The sky curving above me was so vivid that it hurt to look up, with clouds like wisps of carded wool scattered here and there. Below, it was as if the fog had never been; the land was not soggy brown, but covered with the amber stubble of recently harvested fields and the forests that clad the rising land were a blaze of red and orange. I wondered what time I looked on, even as I devoured the sight.
I thought of Gabriel, and how much he had wanted to see this country; how much I wanted to show it to him like this, in its glory. A great flood of love shook me to my bones as I stared out, the megaliths rising up around me in silent salute. This was the Kingdom as it should be, as Gabriel must see it. I would have it this way again, if I had to die to make it so.
I pulled off the leather sacks and let them fall. In a daze of remembrance my feet took me across to look out at the sea, as they had on my first visit to the Circle. The same sea that Gabriel and I had danced in together. Today it was a sparking silver crest on the horizon, and without even thinking, my hand came to rest on the rough surface of the stone immediately to my right.
Nothing happened. I frowned. I should have known better than to think it would be that easy. Had I wasted my time coming here?
A gentle sigh rose from the stones, as if in response. And then Angharad was there.
She said nothing, just reached up with one weathered hand and cupped my check. Her expression as she studied my face was one of inexpressible sadness; she squeezed her lids shut briefly, then heaved a deep sigh and looked at me again.
“Well,” she muttered. “You’ve grown.” She patted m
y check and then dropped her hand.
I sucked in a shuddering breath and pulled away from her. Her hair, which had been deep glossy red when I saw her that first time, was now streaked with silver, and her face was deeply lined, the skin almost translucent. Her proud bearing could not hide the stoop of age. She had aged thirty years.
“Yes,” she said, as if she had heard my shocked thoughts. “This is a different Angharad. And I see before me a new Alexandra.”
I nodded, speechless.
A small smile tugged at her lips. “Though in some ways you are still the same, I see. You’re still far too good at listening, and not good enough at talking. I know why you’ve come … but I don’t think I can help you, my dear.”
I frowned, torn between happiness at seeing her again and disappointment at her words. “Do you know everything that’s happened?”
“As much as the enaid could whisper to me, yes. I know what evil has overtaken the Kingdom, and what you have suffered by it. And I know the question that you need to ask. So ask it, my dear.”
I was puzzled by her manner, but went ahead. “I suppose … I wanted to ask about my brothers. Where they are. If they’re all right.”
Angharad sighed. “Oh, child… Can’t you see them?”
I stared at her. “What are you talking about? They were banished from the Kingdom. There’s no one here but us.”
As I spoke I looked around me: the Circle was empty. Then something made me look up. Far above, so far that they were little more than pale specks in the sky, a trio of swans circled and wheeled on the wind. My dream…
I blinked, and they were gone. The sky was empty.
Suddenly I saw myself lying on the floor of Zella’s chamber, paralysed and blinded – and in my mind the images of my brothers, screaming with agony, their bodies twisted and tormented by that woman’s foul spell. But it had been a nightmare. Only a nightmare…