Shadows at Stonewylde

6



Leveret sat rocking in Mother Heggy’s ancient chair, her woollen cloak wrapped tightly around her against the cold. She’d been looking forward to this special day for so long, ever since she realised that the Dark Moon would fall at Samhain. She’d always felt drawn to the magic of the Dark Moon, always felt a thrill of power shiver through her when the stars glittered in a moonless sky. She didn’t know that she shared this affinity with Yul, as he had always been secretive about it too.

The day had started auspiciously when she’d been woken by a crow cawing in the trees outside her bedroom. She’d smiled as she dragged herself from the world of sleep and dreams and had greeted the spirit of Mother Heggy. Leveret was convinced that the old Wise Woman was watching over her and that tonight, when the veil was at its thinnest, the crone would make contact with her from the Otherworld.

She planned to journey for the first time after she’d walked the labyrinth in the Village Green. The Fly Agaric, harvested the week before, would take her on this journey. She knew what to do and had secretly prepared the mushroom’s scarlet cap as instructed in the Book. Even without the hallucinogenic effects of the mushroom Leveret was already a little light-headed as she’d been fasting for three days. It had taken some doing with Maizie breathing down her neck, and she’d had to feign an upset stomach to avoid her mother’s hearty meals.

Not everyone was so delighted that the Dark Moon fell on the day of the festival. The Great Barn was needed for the children’s drama this afternoon and the dancing that would continue for most of the night. If the weather turned wet, the feast would be eaten in there too. But this was also the day when most women of Stonewylde began menstruation. The first couple of days, at least, were spent in the Great Barn and usually the Dark Moon nearest to Samhain was spent knitting long woollen socks; a pair for each member of the community. These dark green stockings were for Yule and would be filled with small gifts for each person.

But today menstruation had to take second place; not such a hardship as it would have been since the compulsory contraceptive implant had been introduced, making women’s periods lighter and less uncomfortable. The women were busy preparing food for the feast and putting the finishing touches to the decorations in the Great Barn. Leveret should have been in there now, helping to arrange the carved Jack o’ Lanterns and attaching the papier-mâché crows and skulls and the elder twigs to the walls and rafters.

Instead she sat in the battered wooden chair, its back scarred from years of assault by the crow’s scrabbling claws, clutching her stomach. She ached from the onset of her period, for she was too young for the implant, and she felt hollow from lack of food. Although everyone else was fasting today as part of the Samhain rituals, this was her third day and she was very hungry. But the Book was clear; fasting was important before Samhain and especially before a journey. She also knew that Fly could induce severe nausea, so a completely empty stomach was best. Leveret sighed and thought grimly that becoming the Wise Woman might be tougher than she’d imagined.

Yul stood under his special tree on the Village Green hidden beneath the dark green foliage. From this shelter he surveyed the people of Stonewylde – his people. He felt the familiar stirring inside, a heady cocktail of pride and power. He breathed deeply of the earthy scent and threw back his head, shutting his eyes. Swirls and eddies of magic threaded around the ancient bole and wreathed him in their enchantment. This yew tree held many memories for him and he visited it regularly, especially when he wanted to think about Sylvie.

They’d shared their first kiss here on the Summer Solstice of her fifteenth birthday, while Magus was at the Stone Circle performing his rituals. They’d snatched forbidden meetings here during the December Dark Moon, whilst Magus held her captive in his rooms at the Hall. And the most vivid, electrifying memory of all – here, on the soft earth where nothing else grew, he and Sylvie had first made love.

Yul could still recall the smell of the dew out on the Green and the old yew needles mixed in with the fine, dry soil. He vividly remembered the grainy softness of the earth under their bodies, the seclusion of the great dark dome of foliage, and the magical sight, smell and feel of the girl he loved as they finally came together after waiting for so long. The years had not dimmed the memory in the least. Yul recalled every tiny detail of that passionate consummation so strongly that he groaned aloud and quickly opened his eyes, wishing she were here right now. Then he shook his head impatiently; no, not here in the open with the weather so crisp. She deserved better – only finest linen sheets and goose down pillows for his Sylvie. Only the safe cocoon of softness, comfort and luxury; she must be treated with the utmost care, even though he was still angry with her.

Yul watched the black-robed figures, skull masks in place, slowly shuffling around the labyrinth on the Village Green towards the great wicker dome in the centre. He shuddered, hating everything about the Samhain rituals. He was still haunted by nightmares where he relived the lurching movement of the sledge being dragged inexorably towards the centre of the labyrinth in the grotesque Dance of Death. He still endured horrible flashes from that night of Jackdaw’s leering face, Magus laughing with glee, the funeral pyre so high above him and pale bodies in their white tunics lying motionless beside him as that dark figure stalked the Circle. Yul shuddered again.

Next year it’d all be gone and he couldn’t wait – nor could he wait for Clip to leave. Yul had never trusted him, not since he’d hypnotised Sylvie into submitting to Magus’ torture on the rock at Mooncliffe every month. Yul had no patience with Clip’s weaknesses and vacillations and little respect for him. He’d found it so difficult to hold his tongue while Clip dithered, growing older and vaguer by the year. He resented Clip’s interference and his influence over Sylvie and longed for the day when he would take up the reins of power. Yul knew in his very marrow that this was his destiny, and Clip had blocked it for too long.

He stepped forward slightly from the shadows of the yew tree, absently watching the cloaked figures on the Village Green, fingers drumming against his thigh. He must go into the Great Barn soon to see the children’s Samhain drama. Celandine and Bluebell were both in it, although at four years old, Bluebell’s part was limited to that of an acorn. He smiled, remembering how excited the girls had been that morning. Celandine was part of the autumn wind dance and had been prancing around the Hall for weeks, practising her twirling and whooshing. As magus he must watch and applaud all the children but he wished there was time to return to the Hall first. He was waiting for something important and needed to check his e-mails. Yul tried to put it to the back of his mind; Harold would phone down to the Barn if it came through and Sylvie was right – he did need to sort out his priorities. This was what really mattered; celebrating the festival, not business deals going through.

They’d had the most awful argument on the night of the last Council Meeting. Yul had tried to hide his anger but they knew each other too well for deception and she’d been just as angry with him. They’d hurled accusations at each other and then taken their fight away from their sleeping children to his office downstairs, where it had continued to rage. Sylvie shouted that he was a control freak like his father and had forgotten what mattered at Stonewylde; he yelled that she was as woolly and soft as her father and had no idea how to run their community.

She’d stood, hands on hips, her hair wild about her flushed cheeks and eyes flashing sparks of rage and the row had ended abruptly. Overwhelmed by desire for her, he’d manoeuvred her onto the large sofa and made love to her as passionately as he’d argued with her only minutes before. Her furious protests had been quenched by his greedy mouth and in moments they both knew that her resistance was merely token, and soon abandoned. But afterwards, as their breathing returned to normal and their heated bodies cooled, she’d made it clear that she was still furious about his arrogance at the Council meeting.

‘Remember, Yul,’ she’d flung at him, ‘that Clip could decide to sign it all over to me alone. Remember that before you attempt to shut me out altogether. You may channel the Earth Magic but I’m the heir to Stonewylde, not you. Stop trying to push me out!’

As she’d struggled out of his grasp and adjusted her twisted clothing, he’d been so tempted to fling back an equally nasty retort. At least he still received the Earth Magic, whereas she no longer moondanced and channelled the moon energy. He’d bitten back the cruel words and merely glared at her as she stormed out of the office and up to bed. But she wouldn’t have the final word. Nobody, not even his beloved wife, ever got the better of Yul nowadays.

Unbeknownst to Yul, one of the masked figures now treading the labyrinth on the Village Green was his youngest sister. Flicking a glance at the nine robed teenagers following the white stones of the path, Yul strode round the edge towards the Great Barn where the children were almost ready for their dance and drama. Leveret didn’t notice him either; her eyes were fixed on the narrow path marked by the pebbles and she was fighting waves of nausea that made her sway alarmingly. She’d decided to eat the mushroom before she walked the labyrinth, knowing it could take some hours for the effects of Fly Agaric to reach their peak.

Leveret wished that she could’ve asked somebody’s advice. She knew the mushroom’s effects had three distinct phases: the initial nausea and physical reactions, the dreamy, calm state, and finally the hallucinatory stage. It was during the final phase that she hoped to journey, as her spirit left her body and travelled into other realms, and she wanted this to happen during the afternoon. Then she’d be free to cast her first spell that night after sunset and make contact with Mother Heggy. She thought she’d eaten the dried mushroom early enough but was only guessing at the timings. As she lurched around the labyrinth, Leveret realised she’d made a mistake.

Inside the wicker dome the man in the crow mask chanted to the slow-beating drums, indicating the mats where the youngsters should sit. Leveret’s legs had turned to jelly and she crumpled onto the hemp mat, swallowing the saliva that suddenly filled her mouth. Her stomach was clenching and bloating and the gulps of saliva threatened to boil over like a geyser any minute. Suddenly her face was on fire, burning as scarlet as the cap of Fly she’d consumed. She tore at the mask, desperate for air, but as she wrenched it off she noticed the other teenagers had done the same. Now the crow man was passing around the tiny skull cups of blood. Her mouth flooded again and she started to gag.

‘Drink of the blood of death and rebirth,’ the crow intoned, and everyone put the vessels to their lips. They sipped gingerly, knowing it was only elderberry wine laced with something stronger but still reluctant to swallow the dark, viscous liquid. Leveret gasped for air, unable to drink, but the tall, dark crow put one hand at the back of her head and the other under the cup and tipped it so she had no choice but to swallow. She felt the blood-red juice swirling into the void of her stomach, which started to heave. The others were now lying down whilst the drumming increased in intensity and aromatic smoke filled the tiny space. Leveret fell back and immediately the smoky dome started to spin. She heard far-away laughter and the raucous croak of a crow. The black emptiness spiralled and she was disappearing down into a great maw of nausea, flailing at the sides but falling down, down.

Strong hands jerked her to her feet and she recognised Martin’s voice hissing at her.

‘Behave yourself, Leveret! The others are outside already. Walk the path and think of what you want to achieve this year, and don’t you dare spoil this sacred ceremony with any of your messing about!’

She staggered out into the cool, grey light clutching her mask, and walked unsteadily along the coiling path that led eventually out of the labyrinth. She hoped Martin wouldn’t tell her mother or Yul that she’d acted strangely. The nausea had receded and she was relieved to find herself at the exit where another masked person handed her a slip of yew. She hoped to quietly steal away now and make her way to Mother Heggy’s cottage, where she’d curl up on the wooden settle and maybe start the dreaming.

But she heard the cry of a familiar voice and her heart plummeted.

‘Leveret! Come into the Barn with me and watch the Dance of Samhain! ‘Tis just about to start.’

Her mother took her arm and led her firmly inside through the great wooden doors that were flung wide open. Inside, the vast area had been transformed for Samhain and was filled with grinning Jack o’ Lanterns and realistic crows and skulls. The centre of the Barn was clear, with carved tree-trunks standing upright to mark a large circle for the drama.

‘Please, Mother, I don’t feel well,’ groaned Leveret, her stomach beginning to tighten again in spasms.

Maizie peered into her face, noting the moist pallor of her skin and the glassiness of her eyes. She put an arm around her youngest child, tiny underneath her black cloak.

‘You don’t look good, my love. Stay here with me for the drama – Celandine and Bluebell are in it, and Snowdrop and little Edrun, and I promised them I’d watch. When ‘tis over I’ll take you home for a lie-down. You haven’t eaten properly for days but we’ll have to wait until the feast, for you can’t break the fast early, not at Samhain. Just hold tight, Leveret. They are your nieces and nephew after all.’

Leveret closed her eyes and swayed on her feet. The last thing she needed now was to watch some silly little girls prancing around. She didn’t mind Rosie’s children so much but she couldn’t stand Yul’s daughters whom he doted on, exactly as he’d used to dote on her when she was a small girl. Nowadays they rarely spoke and he’d often stride past in the Hall and not even register who she was. Leveret didn’t care; she didn’t even like him anymore.

But now here he was, her big brother the magus, stepping into the centre of the Barn so tall and handsome. Dressed in splendid dark grey robes embroidered with silver cobwebs, a circlet of black feathers and ivy on his glossy curls, he raised his arms and there was silence.

‘Folk of Stonewylde,’ he said softly, so everyone must strain to hear, ‘we’re honoured to watch our children perform their celebration of Samhain. At this festival we say farewell to autumn and greet winter, we look back over the past year and peer into the mists of the new year. At this festival we remember those who’ve passed through the veil into the Other World and send them our blessings. The Samhain Dance!’

There was a roll of drums and he moved to stand beside his wife, dressed in the normal black Samhain robes. She’d change into her special ceremonial attire soon, before the evening’s festivities started. Leveret noticed how Yul’s hand automatically slipped into hers and how he raised it to his lips. The smile she gave him seemed a little tight but then their attention was taken by the arrival of the Autumn Wind, swirling in a golden eddy into the circle. Their eyes were locked onto one little girl amongst the many, her long hair a mass of white curls. She danced beautifully and with complete dedication, gracefully pointing her slim legs and leaping as if she were weightless. Leveret scowled and tried to edge away but Maizie gripped her firmly.

‘Just look at our Celandine!’ she whispered. ‘Isn’t she wonderful? The girl’s a natural dancer. Yul must be so proud of her.’

Half an hour later Leveret could barely stand. She was bored stiff by the Samhain Dance and even the sight of Bluebell dressed as an acorn had only made her smile a little. The tiny, plump girl had looked almost as ridiculous as her soppy parents when she skipped on and sang her daft song with all the other acorns. Leveret’s sickness and flushing seemed to have passed and she now felt incredibly sleepy. All she wanted to do was sit down quietly.

‘The crows are black,’ she said, looking up at the papier-mâché birds that perched and hung everywhere, some moving gently in the warm air raised by the dancing. Maizie frowned, relieved to see the pallor had gone from her pointed face but puzzled by the girl’s air of vacancy.

‘Of course the crows are black!’

‘Their feathers are night’s fingers,’ said Leveret in a sing-song voice.

‘What’s that? You’re looking very strange,’ said Maizie, peering into her daughter’s green eyes and noting her dilated pupils. ‘Go and sit down over by the door and I’ll take you home in a minute.’

Leveret stumbled out of the throng of people and headed for the fresh air. Then she noticed Sweyn and Gefrin lounging near the doors talking to Jay. They were all laughing and she felt a chill ripple over her skin. Jay was as cruel as they were, although most of his aggression was directed at poor Magpie. Leveret imagined Jay pecking and pecking and her mind started to unravel so she turned and wandered in the opposite direction. She meandered through lots of black-robed people and then hit something solid. She looked slowly up the expanse of grey and silver and her eyes met the deep grey ones of her eldest brother, who frowned down at her.

‘What are you up to?’ he asked. ‘Did you enjoy the Dance?’

‘Like the snow enjoys the rain,’ she mumbled.

‘What? That’s a strange thing to say. I’ve been meaning to speak to you, Leveret. I’ve been hearing things that I don’t like.’

‘I understand now about the caterpillar.’

‘What? What on earth are you talking about?’

He gripped her arms and pulled her slightly towards him, trying to look into her eyes.

‘The hookah-smoking caterpillar on the mushroom, and the way the girl shrew and grank. Grew and shrank. You know, the door and the glass table.’

‘Leveret, what are you on about?’

‘Don’t you remember it anymore? Alice in Wonderland. You read it to me long, long ago when you were still my lovely brother. I’ve read it many times since but I didn’t really understand until now.’

Yul shook his head in exasperation.

‘You’re being ridiculous but I can’t waste time on you now. I must watch all the children dance, not just my own. But I’m warning you, Leveret, I’m not happy with what I’ve been told and we’re going to have a serious talk soon. Make sure you behave yourself tonight.’

He released her and she edged away, muttering darkly to herself. She noticed an empty corner and scuttled over, curling up on the floor and hiding herself under her cloak. At last she could just close her eyes and taste all the visions that crowded in. They were sweet and salty and their colours were noisy, except for the silver feathers that sounded like a harp and smelled of soft water. Leveret wanted to stroke those with her eyes, comb them with her breath. She swallowed that thought and it tasted like birdsong, blossoming into a shimmering rainbow inside her empty stomach that filled her with luminosity.

Sylvie had slipped into one of the small side-rooms attached to the Great Barn to change into her ceremony robes. Like Yul’s they were soft and grey but hers were embroidered with black crows. Her headdress was a skullcap of blue-black feathers with long strings hanging down amongst her hair, trailing ivy leaves. There was also a mask which attached to the skullcap, made of moulded black silk with a beak that covered the upper part of her face and made her look like an Egyptian goddess. As she brushed out her flowing silver hair before donning the cap and mask, the door opened and Hazel came in.

‘Hi, Sylvie. How are you doing?’

‘Fine thanks – almost ready. Would you mind helping me with this cap? It has to be pinned securely before I attach the mask and it’s always awkward.’

‘It’s quite tricky, isn’t it? Give me the pins and I’ll do the back.’

Sylvie turned to face the mirror and watched Hazel in the reflection, frowning as she began pinning on the feathered skullcap. Sylvie liked Hazel, which was just as well for the doctor knew everything there was to know about her. Hazel looked up, her soft brown eyes meeting Sylvie’s strange grey ones in the mirror, and Sylvie grimaced.

‘You know, Hazel, you’re the one person who’s seen me in my very darkest hour. You saw things that not even Yul saw.’

Hazel smiled gently.

‘I’m a doctor, Sylvie, remember that. We’re meant to be there at the darkest hour to pick up the pieces.’

‘I even attacked you, didn’t I?’

‘Forget it, Sylvie. It was more than four years ago and you’ve made a complete recovery.’

‘Hazel … I worry about it sometimes. Will it ever come back?’

‘It was an extension of severe post-natal depression so unless you have another baby it won’t come back – and even if you did, the odds are you wouldn’t become psychotic again. It’s extremely rare and you were very unlucky to be so acutely affected. Just put it behind you, Sylvie – I thought you had.’

‘So did I. In fact I have – it’s Yul who can’t forget. He still treats me as if I may crack at any moment. He wraps me in cotton wool and smothers me with his carefulness and I can’t stand it.’

‘Do you want me to speak to him?’

‘It might help, but I think I’ve got to prove to him that I’m completely well. He’s so strong and it’s such hard work standing up to him – it’s so much easier just to let him have his way. But that’s going to stop. Have you noticed how arrogant he’s become lately? He’s growing more and more like Magus.’

Hazel looked away and busied herself pinning the cap.

‘I never had a problem with Magus, Sylvie. Not that I condone everything he did, of course, but …’

‘Sorry, I forget sometimes that not everyone was against him. He was very charming, wasn’t he?’

Hazel nodded, blushing slightly.

‘I know it’s stupid,’ she said softly, ‘because he was an evil man and I realise that now. But at the time I thought he was a god. I was as bad as Rowan and Wren and all the other girls under his spell.’

‘Not to mention my mother and even me for a little while,’ agreed Sylvie.

‘He was so … so … well, I really can’t put it into words. But when you were with him, when you had all his attention, it was the best thing in the whole world. The very best thing and nothing else mattered at all. And once you’d been with him that was all you thought about until the next time. It wasn’t just sex, although that was incredible, it was much more than that – it was him, his very essence. The way he looked into your soul with those velvety black eyes, I just …’

She stopped and guiltily looked up to meet Sylvie’s gaze again in the mirror.

‘Sorry, Sylvie. You must think I’m mad, still mooning about him after thirteen years like some love-sick teenager. You’re one of the very few women here who didn’t fall under his spell and yet he wanted you more than anyone else. You were so young, far too young for a man like him, but he was like someone possessed over you. It was horrible to watch – not simply out of jealousy but because it was so very wrong.’

‘It wasn’t really me he wanted. He was obsessed with my moongaziness and he wasn’t used to being turned down either. He knew it was Yul I wanted and not him, which makes Yul becoming more and more like him so ironic. Sometimes Yul looks at me and it could be Magus.’

Hazel had secured the cap and Sylvie lifted the mask to her eyes, pressing the fasteners to attach it. Hazel reached across and took over.

‘We need to put Magus firmly in the past where he belongs, along with your illness and anything else that’s bothering us,’ she said. ‘I’ll speak to Yul and I’ll do it casually so he doesn’t think you’ve primed me. Don’t let him dominate you, Sylvie. Nip that in the bud and stand up to him – you two have always been equals. Everything else is alright between you, isn’t it? I mean …’

Sylvie grinned at her, the mask covering half her face but her pretty white teeth flashing her amusement.

‘Yes, it couldn’t be better. I’d always imagined our passion would wear off a little, after we got used to each other, but it hasn’t – just looking at him makes me go weak at the knees. I only wish he wasn’t constantly busy and distracted. Some nights he doesn’t come to bed at all and I miss him so much.’

Hazel smiled wistfully.

‘You’re very lucky, Sylvie. Not many couples have that sort of relationship after thirteen years together. Enjoy it.’

‘Oh I do!’ she laughed.

The late October sun was sinking fast, gilding the woods all around the Stone Circle with a fiery glow. As the shadows lengthened inside the ancient arena, the sound of rooks from the treetops was deafening. The massive standing stones were painted with crows and skulls and in the centre sat the pyre, ready to receive the corpses. Elder branches, the tree of the crone, had been woven into a doorway that framed the entrance into the Stone Circle. This led to the white stones and red lanterns which patterned the soft earth and marked out the Labyrinth of Death. As the night of Samhain approached, the place felt dark and foreboding.

Old Violet and her sister Vetchling stood by the Altar Stone unpacking bottles from a battered leather bag, setting out cakes and wine. Both were old and whiskery and Violet especially was wizened and bent with arthritis. Their black robes were fusty and well-worn for they used them on many occasions other than Samhain. They both muttered bad-temperedly like a couple of growling cats spoiling for a fight.

‘How many do we expect this year?’ whined Vetchling, poking at the cakes with a filthy finger.

‘I told you – five tonight for the Dance of Death. Five to meet the Dark Angel. ‘Tis a good number.’

‘Aye, five is a good number. Quick, sister, ‘tis getting dark and the sun will soon be gone. We must be ready.’

‘Aye, the others will be here shortly and there’s much to be done afore the veil draws aside tonight. The invitation must be powerful.’

‘’Twill be very powerful, too powerful for him to resist. Are many coming to help in the summoning, sister?’

‘Aye, a goodly number – thirteen of us for the summoning, and the five on the sledges also. It shall be enough. He cannot refuse the invitation, nor will he want to. I’ve felt him waiting, waiting to be let in, and tonight the veil will be thinner than it’s been in many a year at Samhain for we have Dark Moon also. The Dark Magic will aid us, sister, and the Dark Angel hisself.’

Vetchling cackled at this.

‘Well said, sister. There, all is prepared and we’re ready now to cast.’

In the Great Barn Maizie paced up and down wringing her hands. Gefrin and Sweyn stood awkwardly nearby whilst Rosie tried to hold on to her two excited children and sympathise with her mother at the same time.

‘Don’t worry, Mother, she’ll be safe enough.’

‘I know, I know, but she looked so strange earlier. You know how pointed and peaky she is at the best o’ times. She were much worse tonight, and her eyes! Oh, they were enormous with great black pupils like a cat’s. I told her to sit down by the door and then she disappeared. Where on goddess’s Earth can she be?’

‘Mother, we’ve got to go outside – ‘tis almost sunset, Yul’s on the Green and everyone’s in the labyrinth ready. We’ll miss the ceremony if we don’t go now.’

‘Blast that girl! She’ll really be in trouble when I find her. If she’s with that Magpie again—’

‘No, Mother, she ain’t. I can see him out on the Green – he’s the only person not wearing a black cloak,’ said Gefrin. ‘Come on, we got to be in the labyrinth or we won’t get the Earth Magic tonight.’

They all began to troop out of the Barn and onto the Green, when Sweyn noticed the small black heap by the wall. He prodded it hard with his boot and let out a whoop of triumph.

‘Hey, Mother, don’t worry, I found her! She’s been lying here under her cloak all the time, leading us a merry dance! Look – she’s not ill at all, just asleep!’

‘Ooh, just wait till the ceremony’s over!’ said Maizie through gritted teeth. ‘She’s really for it this time, making me worry like that. Come on, we’ll leave her here. She’ll be alright for a while.’

But as they left the Barn, Sweyn looked back and saw the heap stir, disturbed by the heaviness of his boot. He waved the others on and went back into the Barn. Slowly Leveret sat up, swaying and barely able to open her eyes. Sweyn watched as she pushed herself up and, holding onto the wall, managed to stand upright. Carefully she stepped away, one foot at a time, towards the doors.

‘Not so fast!’ said Sweyn, reaching out and grabbing the hood of her robe to yank her back. ‘Not so fast, little sister. You’ve upset Mother again so it’s time for another lesson.’

Yul stood on the roof of the wicker dome in the very centre of the Village Green, resplendent in his grey and silver robes. The green and purple glass lanterns flickered their eerie light around the labyrinth as the sun sank behind the trees. It was a beautiful clear night, the sky bright blue and gold with wisps of clouds lacing the heavens. Yul stood tall and straight with his arms raised and hands open, chanting the sacred words that he’d learnt from Clip. His heart was full of love for the wonders of the Earth and the sky, for his people of Stonewylde, for the magical dance of the year as the wheel turned. He felt the Earth Magic pulsing through his body, spiralling around the Village Green, snaking through the labyrinth. His deep voice chanted, interwoven with the beat of the soft drums inside the dome beneath his feet. The Stonewylders, spread throughout the twisted coils of the labyrinth swayed and hummed, enraptured by the magic they too could feel emanating from their magus and entering their very souls.

Sylvie stood at the foot of the dome gazing up at the hundreds of birds that clustered around the Green, perching blackly on the boughs of all the great trees that surrounded the area. She thought of her dear Professor Siskin who’d loved this place more than any other. She remembered his words of wisdom; how he’d believed that the Green was the remnants of a place so ancient and magical that even now the energy lingered here. He’d believed the Green had originally been a woodland temple, a clearing in the wildwood that clothed the land in pre-history, a place where the Earth Energy had been channelled long before the Stone Circle or any of the other sacred sites at Stonewylde had been built. Sylvie could feel the old man’s presence in the circle tonight, here where his small, curled body had been discovered the morning after that Winter Solstice, frosty and stiff but with a smile on his face. She greeted his spirit and felt a rush of sadness that he hadn’t lived to see Yul become the magus, just as he’d predicted.

When the Green Man returns to Stonewylde, all will prosper.

The Green Man had returned and she supposed all was prospering. She turned her gaze to her husband, tall and erect, his face tipped back in rapture. He was so powerful and strong, so rooted here. Why did she feel this need to challenge him? Why couldn’t she just accept his rule and bask in his adoration? She knew that he worshipped her; surely that was enough? Then he looked down at her and their eyes met. She saw the strange light glowing from within him, the green light sacred to this place, and she felt the love pouring from him, not just for her but for everything that was Stonewylde. She smiled at him, honoured that he loved her above all others. The air almost crackled with the power of their attraction and she felt herself literally drawn towards him, as if he were magnetised.

Yul reached down and beckoned, grasping her outstretched hand and whisking her up so her feet climbed the domed wicker walls. She stood beside him on the roof of the shelter, feeling the radiance of his power throbbing from a hidden source. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes filled with tears under the black silk mask. Yul was the true magus and she belonged by his side – this was as it should be. The drums increased in their intensity and he began to chant again, joined by the voices of the hundreds of people all around him.

Clip stood in the deepening shadows under an ash tree, its bunches of seed pods dark and shrivelled. He watched the scene on the Village Green and he too felt the power of the Earth Energy channelled by Yul. Like Sylvie, he knew that this was how it should be. Yul was ready, was already all-powerful, and Clip could safely leave the ceremonies to him. He was free to pass on the responsibility at last after all these years, and follow his own inner journey.

Clip smiled and let out a great sigh of relief. He’d be free to wander the whole earth, not just this tiny corner of it. He could travel again and commune with spiritual people from different cultures, join in their celebration of the Earth and the sky and the glorious deity that manifested itself through nature. He turned away from the spectacle as the light thickened to dusk, heading for the Dolmen where he planned to spend the Samhain night greeting the Otherworld that shimmered so close at this time of year. He’d awaken to the dawn of a new year, the year when he’d finally gain his freedom.

Clip slipped past the open doors of the Great Barn where the folk of Stonewylde would eventually finish their celebrations tonight. First they’d light the bonfire on the playing fields by the river and dance in huge concentric circles around the roaring fire to symbolise the turning wheel of the year. Then they’d break their fast with delicious food cooked outside on smaller fires, and later they’d crowd into the Barn for party games and dancing. The festivals were an important factor in bringing the community together, but it wasn’t for Clip. He had another, less worldly, path to follow tonight.

But as he passed the Barn, Clip heard a sound that made him stop in his tracks. It was the sound of somebody choking, followed by a growl of laughter. Puzzled, he peered into the vast cavern of the building. The Jack o’ Lanterns hadn’t yet been lit but ordinary lanterns glowed around the walls. The games had been set out already and it was by the big half-barrel of water, filled with bobbing apples, that he saw them. Two figures in black cloaks – Clip gasped as the man forced the girl’s head over the edge of the barrel and into the water filled with floating apples. Her head was held underwater and her arms flailed wildly about as she fought to escape while he laughed, keeping her in position almost effortlessly.

In horror Clip watched her struggles becoming weaker and her body limper as the man relentlessly held her head down. Shouting, Clip launched himself across the floor and the man looked up in surprise, releasing the girl as he did so. She staggered upright, coughing and choking and making a terrible rasping noise as she struggled to fill her lungs with air.

‘What in the goddess’ name are you doing?’ yelled Clip, wrenching her from his grasp. The wet face turned to him and he saw it was Leveret, her eyes almost starting from her head, her lips blue. He realised that the man was very young, only just a man, and he recognised the porcine features of one of Leveret’s brothers whose name he never remembered. The lad was scarlet with fury but backed away at the sight of Clip.

‘Just teaching her a lesson, that’s all,’ he mumbled thickly. ‘No harm done.’

‘No harm done? You bloody idiot, you’ve practically drowned her! Get out of here! And I’ll be talking to your mother about this!’

Clip took hold of Leveret’s shoulders and made her breathe more slowly, pushing the wet hair away from her face and rubbing her back rhythmically to help her calm down and take steadier breaths. Gradually her lips lost their blue tinge and the whooping sounds stopped. She leaned into him and he put his arms around her, comforting her in her distress.

‘It’s alright, Leveret,’ he said soothingly, ‘it’s alright. Your brother’s gone and you’re safe now.’

She began to sob and he held her tight, small and pathetic in his arms like a frightened wild creature. Clip felt a great rush of affection for her and thanked the goddess that he’d arrived when he did. He heard the chanting outside as darkness fell and knew he must get up to the Dolmen quickly before he became swept up in the celebrations. He held the girl away from him slightly for a better look, and was shocked at how very dilated and unfocused her eyes were.

‘How are you feeling now?’ he asked softly.

‘The stars glitter but the night is dark,’ she whispered in a strange, faraway voice. ‘I need to fly in the blackness.’

‘You took the Fly Agaric,’ he said, nodding. ‘Silly girl, you should never take it alone when you’re inexperienced. You said you knew what you were doing and I thought you’d have friends with you to take care of you. When did you take it?’

‘The blue is black and it’s so speckled.’

‘Leveret! When did you eat the mushroom?’

She gazed up at him with unseeing eyes. Her bedraggled curls were stuck to her face and her eyes were enormous, the pupils great black pools and only the bright green rim of her irises showing. She was a strange girl, he thought, feeling an affinity with her. He knew she was in another reality altogether and not aware of him or where she was.

‘I can’t leave you here alone in this state, not when you’re so new to this. You’d better come to the Dolmen with me.’

There was no response so he took her arm and led her out of the Barn and up the track leading away from the Village. She followed docilely enough but darkness was deepening by the minute, so he scooped her up in his arms and carried her. It reminded him of the Moon Fullnesses when he and Magus had carried Sylvie to and from the great stone at Mooncliffe. He felt a stab of guilt at the awful memory, but this was different. He was helping this girl, rescuing her, and it was the Dark Moon not the Full Moon. He sensed Leveret was a girl of darkness and depth, not quicksilver and brightness like Sylvie. Clip realised there was a lot more to Leveret than met the eye. She was different and other-worldly, and maybe before he left Stonewylde he could help set her straight on her own journey.