Circle of Summer
By Lynne Roberts
Copyright 2014 Lynne Roberts
ISBN 978-1-927241-15-8
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Contents
Chapter 1. Mirror Mix-up
Chapter 2. The Wizard’s House
Chapter 3. The Journey Begins
Chapter 4. Caleb’s Story
Chapter 5. Farewell to Caleb
Chapter 6. Mark Makes a Mistake
Chapter 7. Interlude by the Pool
Chapter 8. The Creeping Plain
Chapter 9. A Flash of Fire
Chapter 10. Discovery of the Dragon
Chapter 11. Flight to Aylwin
Chapter 12. How it Ended
Chapter 1. Mirror Mix-up
‘Come on, just a bit further. You’re nearly there.’
Sharon gritted her teeth. She felt all her muscles tighten as she concentrated on moving the lever. There were murmurs of encouragement from the crowd around her. She was so close now. One more move and she would do it. Slowly she eased the lever to one side as she squeezed the trigger to open the metal pincers. The watch was within grasp now; just a little more pressure and it would be hers.
Click. The machine gave a burst of derisive music as the watch fell from the pincers to land back on the revolving platform.
‘Bad luck, you nearly had it. Do you want to try again?’ The elderly man gave her a brief smile as his eyes scanned the crowd for new customers. People began to drift away now the excitement was over.
‘No, that’s all the money I had,’ replied Sharon, trying hard not to cry. She had saved her pocket money for weeks when she heard about the fair and now it was all gone.
‘Here, have a consolation prize,’ said the showman handing Sharon a bottle of cheap perfume. Sharon mumbled her thanks and looked around her for her younger brother. To her horror he was nowhere to be seen.
‘Excuse me, have you seen a small boy? He’s fair haired and about so big. He’s wearing a green jacket,’ she added. The people around the lucky dip shook their heads.
‘Maybe he’s gone to find Mark,’ she thought and set off through the crowds. Frantically she dodged past stalls of toffee apples, leather hats and handmade jewelry. There was no sign of Mark or Paul. Sharon forced herself to stop and think calmly. Where would Mark be?
‘The rifle shoot,’ she cried aloud. ‘I know he wanted to try that.’ She ran off to the shooting gallery where hopeful young lads were trying their luck at shooting rows of wooden ducks. Mark was standing with his arms balanced on a wooden rail, aiming a rifle at a large bulls eye.
‘Mark,’ she called urgently. Mark gave a start and the rifle went off, missing the target completely.
‘Now look what you made me do,’ he said crossly. ‘That was my last dollar too.’
Mark had been practicing at home with an old air gun and a few battered tin cans, and he hoped to score enough points to win a telescope.
To his disgust he had hardly hit anything. He fought back an unwelcome suspicion that the rifle sights had been tampered with and spent all his money in an attempt to hit the bullseye.
‘Here’s your prize. Better luck next time.’ The tattooed young man behind the counter handed Mark a small plastic torch that he accepted with a scowl.
‘I suppose it’s better than one of those blue fluffy dogs,’ he muttered.
Dodging around two small children, whose hands and faces were liberally smeared with candyfloss, he turned to Sharon.
‘Do you have any money left?’ he asked hopefully.
Sharon gave him an exasperated look.
I lost all mine on the lucky dip game and all I won was this bottle of perfume.’ She thrust a small glass bottle in Mark’s face.
‘Oh, yuck, it smells terrible,’ he choked, waving it away.
‘Where’s Paul?’ asked Sharon. ‘Is he with you?’
‘I thought you were looking after him,’ groaned Mark. ‘He can’t be far away.’
Mark and Sharon searched around the sideshows without success, then caught sight of Paul climbing happily down from the merry-go-round, assisted by a motherly woman.
‘Is this your family?’ she asked Paul with a disapproving look at Sharon and Mark. ‘The poor little thing was so unhappy,’ she whispered to them. ‘He was about to cry, so I paid for him to have a ride on the merry-go-round.’
Sharon thanked the woman as Mark took Paul by the hand and dragged him around the corner.
‘You were supposed to stay with Sharon, not go wandering off on your own,’ Mark snarled at Paul. ‘We’ve been looking for you for ages. And I’m starving.’
‘You’re always starving,’ said Paul. ‘I’m quite full,’ he said complacently.
‘Yes, you little beast. That’s because you go all angelic to perfect strangers whenever they have something you want,’ replied Mark bitterly.
‘But it works,’ Paul beamed.
Sharon and Mark rolled their eyes at each other.
‘I know he’s dreadful,’ said Sharon, ‘but he doesn’t seem to realize it’s wrong. After all, he doesn’t actually ask for anything. He just stands there and looks abandoned and pitiful until they give him something. I think it’s something to do with his blue eyes and blond hair. Let’s hope he grows out of it.’
Mark agreed. He had brown hair that stuck up no matter how hard his mother brushed it, and a freckled cheerful face. Sharon also had brown hair but hers was long and neatly tied back. Mark supposed she was pretty but she certainly didn’t use it to advantage the way Paul had learned to.
The children wandered around the fairground together. Paul wanted a ride on the Ferris wheel and was beginning to stare imploringly at a large motherly woman when Mark dragged him on.
‘Why do I have to come with you? She was about to pay for my ticket,’ he complained.
‘I suppose you still have all your pocket money,’ said Mark savagely. ‘Did you buy those chocolates in your pocket or did someone give you those as well?’
Paul guiltily thrust the bag of chocolates deeper into his pocket.
‘A nice lady gave them to me. She said I looked like an angel,’ he added triumphantly.
‘She wouldn’t think that if she had to live with you,’ retorted Mark.
‘Oh look, a mirror maze.’ Sharon cried in delight.
‘Right,’ said Mark firmly. ‘Let’s go in and Paul can jolly well pay for the tickets. He hasn’t spent any money at all yet.’
Overriding Paul’s protests he bought them each a ticket.
They entered the mirror maze through a large door cut in the shape of a crescent moon. A large sign invited them to VIEW THE MONKEY.
‘It’s only a mirror,’ said Paul in disgust after rushing forward and seeing his own reflection.
The children wandered through the maze. The mirrors twisted and turned in every direction, distorting their images so they appeared short and fat one moment and long and thin the next. Sharon was transfixed by one mirror that showed a whole line of reflections, Sharon after Sharon, getting smaller and smaller into the far distance.
She was absorbed in trying to count how many there were of her when she heard Paul cry out.
‘Look, this mirror is on fire.’
Mark and Sharon joined Paul in front of a greenish wavy mirror. Within the mirror they could see a tiny ball of fire. Mark looked ar
ound.
‘I don’t know where that is,’ he said worriedly. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any fire around that I can see.’
‘There’s no smell of smoke,’ agreed Sharon. ‘Perhaps it’s an electrical fault.’
‘More likely someone mucking around with a cigarette lighter,’ answered Mark. ‘Be careful!’ He reached out to grab at Paul who had gone closer to the mirror for a better look.
‘It isn’t a mirror at all,’ Paul remarked. ‘Look, it’s a doorway.’ Confidently he stepped through the frame towards the fireball and Mark and Sharon followed him.
They found themselves in a long dark corridor. There didn’t appear to be any mirrors, and all they could see was the ball of fire that seemed to be moving away from them.
‘Come on,’ shouted Mark. ‘Let’s catch up and see what it is.’ He ran down the corridor with Sharon following closely behind him.
‘Wait for me,’ wailed Paul as he pattered along at the rear.
As the children ran forward there was flash of blinding light and the fireball exploded. They staggered back, closing their eyes against the brilliance. When they opened their eyes again the fire had gone. They found they were standing inside a circle of orange flame coloured flowers in a large garden. The corridor appeared to have vanished. The children looked around in astonishment.
‘Where are we?’ gasped Sharon but Mark and Paul looked as dazed as she was. Before they could speak a voice thundered,
‘Get out of my flowers! You are ruining my garden.’
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