SOUL FLYER
Book One | The Dancing Stones Trilogy
Karin Raven Steininger
Copyright © 2020 Karin Steininger
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by Lesley Vamos
To Paul, Zack and Cookie
Antonella and Elizabeth
Sally and Karina
you know it's real
xxx
...I would stand,
If the night blackened with a coming storm,
Beneath some rock, listening to notes that are
The ghostly language of the ancient earth...
Willian Wordsworth
ONE
Blue Mountains, Australia, present day
The eagle swept over the valley, soaring across the expanse of blue-grey trees and falling sandstone canyons. Her wings, barely moving, were inky black and spread wide.
Warm air spiralled, cut with the sharp scent of eucalypt.
Far below, a creek bed snaked through the forest, hidden by the dense canopy and twists and folds of the land. Pinion feathers dipped and she banked high over the sheer edge of a cliff. Yet rising through the heat, came not the sweet spray of tumbling water, but a dryness; a thin musty staleness reeking of choked spillways and shallow, silted pools.
Abruptly, the sound of a hard crack cut through the stillness.
A girl was marching through the trees, her anger ricocheting off the red sandstone walls. She was young, but strong and lithe as she kicked another stone, sending it flying across the path.
The whistling cry echoed again.
Squinting, fifteen-year-old Ellie stared at the dark shape circling overhead.
The bird’s body was dark, almost black. It’s wings long and etched clear against the glare of the sky. In a moment it was gone. Ellie scowled, her hazel green eyes hot and defiant in a face framed by abundant red-gold hair.
Ellie’s boot connected with another rock and, with a satisfying thwack, it sailed clean over the undergrowth, and landed with a thud. In the sudden quiet, Ellie sighed. The track, narrow and scattered with fallen twigs and branches, meandered on ahead, hugging the course of a creek bed before disappearing into a grove of trees, their trunks ghost-white and stark against the rich red ochre of the cliffs.
Shielding her eyes, Ellie walked on, gazing up into the canopy. The trees were beautiful; they stood tall and straight, their long branches like a sunshade holding back the worst of the daytime heat. Ellie slowly trailed her fingers over pale, bare bark, studying the surrounding forest.
Dropping her backpack, she pulled out a bottle and took a long gulp. The water was warm and tasted of plastic, but at least it soothed her throat, washing away the dusty dryness.
‘Don’t panic,’ she murmured, her voice loud in the quiet of the trees. Frowning, Ellie tried to recall if she’d accidently taken any turning off the path. She had been in the forest since morning, at first furious, striding as fast as she could, not noticing particularly where she’d been going, but she hadn’t made the mistake of leaving the main track, she was sure of it. Not once. Ellie shook her head. It was a straighforward path, clearly marked - a simple, circular walking track cut through the trees. She knew it like the back of her hand.
Dropping the half-empty bottle back in her bag, she looked up.
At once, movement darted overhead. Ellie froze, her eyes scanning the canopy as a hot breeze flicked over her skin. A branch trembled, dropping leaves and twigs, and a soft boom of thunder echoed off the darkening cliffs.
Still, Ellie kept her gaze trained up into the trees. Sometimes in the forest she had a strange sense of being watched, as though every footfall, every move she made was the focus of tight, intense scrutiny. Abruptly, she scowled.
It was useless. Nothing lived here. The forest was as silent as a mausoleum. The autumn rains hadn’t come and no rain meant no life. It was a simple, brutal equation.
Behind her, heat shimmered, and in the light of the lowering sun, she could see her footprints scuffed through the dust. Ellie hesitated. It would make sense to try and retrace her steps back to the start of the track… but that could take hours.
Around her, the light shifted and up through the canopy she could see streaks of cloud racing across the sky. Another crackle echoed, but Ellie didn’t notice. Her attention was caught by a young sapling, its trunk gleaming in a shard of sunlight, its branches bare, save for a last handful of desiccated leaves.
On impulse, Ellie poured the rest of her water onto the parched earth. ‘I’d do more if I could,’ she whispered, running her fingers along the smooth pale wood. In the answering quiet, a flash forked high overhead, followed by a crack of sound. The forest rippled, and a wind, wild and hot, whipped towards her through the canyon.
‘No!’ Ellie turned to run. The canopy was in turmoil. Branches knocked with a percussive urgency, wrenched together in a rising fury.
Thunder boomed and a giant shuddered, its great limbs groaning with the effort to keep aloft, its massive girth resisting the push and pull of the storm. They came constantly now. Mean, vicious thunderheads carrying bursts of heat and lightning, but never, ever rain.
Ellie dropped to the ground, and a heartbeat later, in a tearing, wrenching defeat, a tree limb crashed to the floor. Ellie threw herself aside, as debris exploded through the forest. She closed her eyes and curled her body into a tight, protective ball.
Mercifully, this storm was quick. The dark clouds raged overhead but almost as soon as it had arrived, the wind began to slacken and the last roll of thunder reverberated off the cliff walls.
A fragment bit into her side, and Ellie shifted, ready to tense at any sign of damage. Carefully, she wriggled her toes and then slowly straightened each of her legs. Shattered bits of twigs and branches slid to the ground and Ellie froze, but - nothing.
Preparing to sit up, Ellie rolled her weight onto her hands but immediately was engulfed by a singular, piercing pain. Red-hot, it shot up through her left palm, and radiated in waves along her fingers. Crying out, Ellie leaned forward, pain drying her mouth and making her heart pound in her chest.
Her hand was broken, she was sure of it.
In the dim light it was hard to assess the damage. The injury was obscured beneath a lumpy mass of grass and twigs. With her free hand she dislodged what she could, but a tangle remained, snagged tightly on her silver rings. Warily Ellie looked closer. A large, ugly thorn lay embedded in her skin. That was all. No broken bones.
Ellie almost fainted with relief.
Gently, she teased it out, leaving bright drops of blood smeared across her palm. She threw the thorn to the ground, and then carefully prised the matted concoction from her rings. Ellie stopped; it was the weirdest thing she had ever seen. A long, conical shape, it was intricately woven and tightly bound with tufts of dried moss sticking out from its side. Frowning, she pulled it clear, and as she did so a spark flashed and an object fell to the ground with a thud.
Ellie stared in shock. Above her, the trees stood quiet and calm after the storm’s fury and the afternoon sun was long gone. But from the shadows at her feet, came a dazzling, blue-white light.
It was some sort of stone, and from its centre streamed a persistent, pulsing glow.
‘That is very, very strange.’ Ellie said out loud, and then she shook her head, acutely aware of the forest and the encroaching darkness.
Maybe the crazy rock could help? But as she considered the idea, the light wavered and abruptly vanished. Ellie stared for a moment then, with a shrug, shoved
the strange stone deep into the pocket of her jeans. She reached for her backpack and on impulse, threw in the woven bunch of twigs.
‘You can come with me too.’ Ellie smiled; glad, suddenly, that she was on her own in the forest; at least here no one could tease her for her habit of talking outloud to inanimate objects. She looked around for the path.
On a sudden hunch, Ellie walked into the almost-dark trees. Leaves draped her face, and a single star flickered above through the canopy. She stopped. ‘I don’t believe it…’ Ellie whispered. Metres away, she could see a set of high, narrow stairs, bolted to the cliff face. They were made of steel and encased in a protective mesh to shield walkers from falling rocks. Higher up, Ellie could make out the top of the iron rails as they disappeared up over the cliff edge - just visible in the last light of the day.
That doesn't make sense. Ellie shook her head. How could she have got back to the start of circular track, and so soon? She stood staring at the stairs for a long moment, and then with a laugh of disbelief, tightened her bag over her shoulder and headed up out of the forest for home.
TWO
It was dark by the time Ellie made it to the top. Light-headed, she stood for a moment, fighting to catch her breath. A dog barked behind a high wooden fence. Ignoring it, Ellie shook her hair out and set off down the street. Lights flicked on, throwing a pale orange glow across the blackness of the night.
Turning the corner, Ellie slowed to a walk. The road was lined with single-storey houses, complete with small garages and fenced-in yards. Others were older, built of painted weatherboard with carved ornate porches and stained glass windows in the doors. This was an old mountain suburb, with generous yards once filled with proud gardens. Looking away, Ellie trudged past remnants of cold climate conifers that had, in their heyday, scraped the sky, their great green spires heralding the great forests of Europe. But now they sagged brown and haggard, or only stumps remained, the colourful plots gone to dust.
Nearing her house, Ellie stopped. Its wraparound porch framed a row of delicate leadlight windows that once would’ve been pretty, she supposed, though now the panels were cracked with age and the white weatherboard dull and badly in need of paint. Dumped boxes of the neighbours’ rubbish sat strewn across the front lawn.
‘Hey Dad, throw it all in now, now.’
Ellie could hear her brother yelling out back, as smoke, thick with grit and filth, twisted into the sky.
Shaking her head, Ellie wrenched open the metal gate. In the far corner of the yard her dad was bent over, his head obscured, his sinewy arms shoving in a bundle of discarded junk into a belching, roaring incinerator.
‘Come on, Ben, keep it coming.’
Behind in the shadows, Ellie’s brother scraped an armful of old newspapers and kitchen waste into a pile. The flames leapt higher, throwing sparks and heat into the night. Keeping her head down low, Ellie crept along the concrete paving stones, angling not to be seen, her eyes squinting against the smoke.
‘Hey catch.’ A wedge of flattened cardboard hurtled through the air.
‘No!’ She gasped, ducking low as it landed with a heavy thud onto the grass.
‘Hey, where are you sneaking off to, slacker?’ Ben grabbed for her shoulder, spilling her backpack to the ground. He was tall and heavily built, a few years older, with curly brown hair and a rough teasing manner.
‘Come on, you can help.’ Handing her a spade, Ben pushed her towards a pile of splintered toys and forgotten old dolls. Once loved and cherished, they lay with their blue eyes unblinking, useless and unwanted. There was a loud laugh as Ellie’s dad, stripped to his shorts, his chest wide and powerful, stepped back and closed the lid with a bang.
‘Hey, Ben, where are you? Bring us some more!’ He wiped a slick of sweat with the back of his hand.
A roar bellowed from inside the metal tank. Even from across the yard, Ellie could feel its heat prickling the skin on her face. The incinerator was almost full to bursting, with burning, churning refuse. A monster, hungry and illegal in this time of drought and extreme weather, Ellie stared at it appalled, but no one else around here seemed to care - not the neighbours and especially not her family. As her dad always said, ‘The rubbish trucks rarely come and someone’s gotta do it.’
Through gaps in the smoke, Ellie glimpsed the sky, clear and patterned with high, bright stars. A cloud burst in the distance, bright with lightning, as a wind kicked in; dry and tasting of dust. Ben whistled cheerfully. Queasiness rose in Ellie’s stomach.
‘I can’t help you,’ she mumbled. Turning, she hurried to the porch and, pulling open the wire door, escaped into the brightness of the kitchen.
Ellie’s mother, Claire stood at the stove decanting a tin of peas into boiling water. A plume of steam spiralled into the heated air. She was a pretty woman, small and fine-boned, with light-brown curly hair and a cautious manner.
‘Hi Mum.’ Ellie called as she passed, but her mother didn’t respond immediately.
Pulling on some heatproof mitts, she opened the oven. ‘Where have you been, Ellie? At Rose’s?’ She asked as she pulled out an earthenware pot, and placed it heavily on the bench.
‘Oh, sort of…’ mumbled Ellie. The kitchen was simple and plain, with black and white linoleum covering the floor and a wide wooden table in the centre. The walls were a faded yellow, and stencilled with blue flowers years ago when her mother still cared about such things.
Ellie poured herself a juice, as a high-pitched shrieking alerted her to the presence of her five-year-old twin siblings. Annie and Tom raced past her legs, their hands flying in every direction as they sought to pinch and slap each other. Blonde-haired Annie pushed her brother and, with a squeal of outrage, he thumped at her hard, knocking askew a framed piece of embroidery.
Annie hid quickly behind Ellie’s legs, and Ellie tickled her little sister, making her fall to the floor, banging her feet against the chairs.
‘Stop that at once!’ Claire banged her hand down hard on the bench. ‘Can’t you see I have hot things on the stove!’ She glared at Ellie. ‘And you should know better!’
Biting back a retort, Ellie stared down at her feet while the kids pulled faces and giggled.
‘Go and wash your hands, you two,’ snapped their mother. ‘Ellie, you can help me with serving dinner.’
‘It’s not my fault,’ Ellie muttered, arranging dinner plates around the kitchen table. The wire door banged open, allowing the smell of smoke and burning rubber into the kitchen.
Ben headed to the sink. ‘What’s for dinner, Mum?’ He poured water over his blackened hands.
‘Please use the bathroom,’ she sighed.
Later, with the steaming pot of beef casserole, potatoes, and peas on the table, the family sat down. Ben’s hands were scrubbed red, and Ellie’s father was dressed in a fresh plaid shirt, his brown hair combed flat. They bowed their heads.
‘Heavenly Father,’ Brian prayed, his voice hoarse. ‘Bless this meal and those who prepared it. Thank you for keeping us safe this day until you return in glory. Claim us soon. In the name of the Lord our Father, amen.’
He paused, his eyes remaining closed. As the silence stretched, Tom pulled a face at Annie and, giggling loudly, she stretched out to kick him, knocking her fork off the table.
‘Stop that!’ roared their father. ‘Can’t we have a quiet table just this once!’
The children wilted and Ellie slowly picked up the utensil off the floor. She glanced at her brother, but his eyes remained firmly cast down towards his plate. In the silence that followed, Claire dished up the meal and the family ate quickly without speaking. Except for Ellie; she felt ill.
The windows of the kitchen dripped with moisture. The air was thick with the residue of toxic smoke, mixed with the dinner juices and the damp heat from the bathroom. Pushing the food around, Ellie tried to breathe the air through her mouth. No one else seemed to mind.
‘We finished most of that lot.’ Brian’s gaze settled on Ellie. ‘We all mu
st do our part.’
‘Yeah,’ mumbled Ben, his mouth still full of food. ‘We can get to the rest after dinner.’
‘Why? It smells so awful,’ complained Annie screwing up her nose. Tom kicked her under the table, and yelping in pain she struggled to whack him in return. Their father glared.
‘Who’s for dessert?’ interrupted Claire.
‘Me, me, me,’ cried the twins, twisting in their chairs. As Claire opened the oven door, the sweet smell of apple pie billowed out into the room, adding to the already thick brew.
Ellie’s stomach heaved, ‘I’ll help you with the dishes later, Mum,’ she said faintly. ‘I’m not feeling very well at all.’
‘Oh dear, aren’t you? You work too hard.’ Her mother’s face crinkled with concern, her hand poised to cut into the gooey-hot dessert. ‘I’ll leave you some pie.’
‘Just a minute, young lady.’ The twins shrank as their father scraped his chair back and left the kitchen on a heavy tread. Ellie stared after him, as a sudden whip of anxiety lashed through her being. The back door slammed open and her father returned, his face closed and eyes hard. Looming tall against the ceiling, he dropped Ellie’s backpack onto the table. It toppled for a moment then fell, strewing leaves and bits of twig over Ellie’s half-finished dinner.
‘Brian! What are you doing?’ cried Claire. ‘Get that thing off the table.’
But Brian ignored his wife and, reaching into Ellie’s bag, he lifted out the bundle of twisted grass and trailing dried-up creek moss.
Appalled silence gripped the table.
Ellie’s mother began to speak.
‘Not now, Claire,’ growled Brian, his green eyes hot with anger. ‘Where did you get this, Ellie?’
She could see the woven concoction clearer now in the bright light of the kitchen. A nest; it was an elongated nest, slightly squashed, and layered with strips of bark, dried fibre, and leaves - all bound together with fine threads of silk.
Soul Flyer Page 1