Dance of the Stones Read online

  To Holly’s relief, the conversation flowed away from her. She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the acorn.

  Chantel touched her knee. “You okay?”

  Holly nodded. She passed the acorn to Chantel. “Does this look like anything special?”

  Chantel examined it. “An acorn! I’ve never seen a real one before. They don’t grow in Alberta.”

  The boys turned round to see what she was looking at.

  “Can I see?” Adam grabbed the acorn. It slipped out of his fingers, hit the floor and rolled out of sight.

  “That’s mine and if you’ve lost it, you’re in big trouble.” Holly’s voice was fierce.

  “Keep your hair on. It’s only an acorn. Besides, I didn’t mean to drop it.” Adam had the grace to look ashamed.

  “You were snatching,” accused Chantel.

  “What’s the matter now?” called Lynne from the front seat.

  “Nothing, just dropped something,” Holly said, looking daggers at Adam.

  Lynne sighed. “I’m sure you’ll find it when we stop.”

  “De poor liddle girl’s lost her acorn. Oo, don’t cry,” mocked Owen, offering Holly a filthy hankie.

  Holly pushed his hand away. “We’d better find it,” she hissed at Adam. “It’s special. It’s from the oldest tree.”

  Adam and Owen stared.

  Holly glared back at them.

  Adam’s eyes dropped first. “Okay . . . okay . . . I’ll help you look as soon as we stop.”

  “We’re nearly there,” called Ron. “Watch for Silbury and then we are not far from the Stone Circle.”

  “That is.” Lynne pointed.

  A large conical green mound rose up beside the road.

  Ron slowed the car.

  “It’s big, but what is it?” persisted Adam. He wound down the window so everyone could see without rain streaks.

  “Nobody knows. Silbury Hill is one of the great mysteries of the world,” said Ron. “It’s a man-made hill, the biggest ancient man-made structure in Europe. It’s several thousand years old. But no one has any idea why it was constructed.”

  “There are lots of stories,” added Lynne. “The best is that it’s the burial mound of King Sel, the Golden King.

  He is supposed to have been buried with his horse and a complete set of golden armor.”

  “Sweet,” said Adam.

  “Unfortunately, no one has ever been able to find his grave, though the mound has been tunneled into several times,” Lynne finished.

  “I’m glad,” said Chantel dreamily. “It’s much nicer to think of him still being there.”

  Ron turned the car off the highway and they bumped down a narrow lane. “Watch for the stones,” he called.

  * * *

  The stones stood gray, wet and silent. They towered over umbrellaed tourists who, despite the rain, patted them, photographed them and walked slowly and admiringly around the mile circumference of the Great Circle.

  Suddenly there was a quiver in the air, a tiny shiver of delight, as the clouds concealing the sun parted.

  A station wagon was approaching the Circle entrance at the head of the Avenue, the entrance the stones knew as the Shaman’s Entrance.

  The children had arrived.

  * * *

  As Ron spoke, the rain stopped and shafts of sunlight lit two standing stones, one on each side of the road. As the car passed between, a double rainbow arched overhead.

  “What a welcome,” said Lynne as they swept into the small village of Avebury.

  The wide-eyed children said nothing. They were watching a hawk circling.

  Ron eased the car between narrow gateposts and drove into a graveled courtyard. He stopped and stretched.

  “My acorn,” hissed Holly. “Watch your feet.”

  Adam unfastened his seat belt and slid to the floor. He stretched his arm under the seat and flailed around until his fingers touched the small woody object. He pulled it out and, without a word, handed it to Holly.

  Holly smiled with relief and stuffed the acorn in her pocket. “Thanks.”

  Harmony restored, the four children tumbled out of the car and gazed around.

  Manor Cottage was a large stone house on the main street of a tiny village.

  The children ran out into the street and looked up and down.

  “This place is smaller than Uffington,” Adam said. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

  “Great things come in small parcels,” remarked a man with a long, gray beard. He strode past holding a tall, carved wooden stick with an ornate brass top.

  Adam stared, then colored with embarrassment.

  “Keep your voice down,” hissed Owen. “There are people around.”

  “Strange people,” Chantel whispered back.

  The children watched as the gray-bearded man was joined by a long-haired woman in a flowing dress. An enormous crystal pendant hung around her neck.

  Other people were sitting on walls, enjoying the sunshine. Many were tourists. The car park next to Manor Cottage was filled with buses, and the old inn beyond was doing a roaring trade. Village people bustled to and fro carrying shopping bags or clutching letters to mail.

  The doors of the village shops were propped open. A gift shop, an antique shop and a tiny grocery store-cum-post office sat in a row opposite Manor Cottage. Then came a field with a stile in the fence used by a constant stream of visitors entering and exiting. The field was followed by another row of gray stone buildings, obviously houses. Flowers bloomed in pots and window boxes, and all the roofs sported well-trimmed thatch.

  On the other side of Manor Cottage was a collection of large barns with an arrow on the side that proclaimed MUSEUM. Beyond, a church spire loomed over a wall, and in the distance a large old house was half hidden behind a row of trees.

  “It’s tiny, but pretty,” said Chantel softly. “I like it here.”

  “Mum,” called Owen, “where’s the rest of the Circle? I only spotted two stones as we drove in.”

  Lynne walked out of the courtyard to join them. She waved her arm in a big gesture. “We’re in the middle of it. The Circle is large; it surrounds the village. The stones are in the fields beyond the houses.” She pointed to a woman climbing the stile across the road. “Half the Circle is on that side and half on this. Unload your stuff from the car and you can go and explore.”

  “Lynne, Ron. How nice to see you again! I thought I heard the car.” A tall dark woman came out of the back door as the children started pulling their belongings from the car. She hugged Lynne and shook Ron’s hand. “We are so grateful you could come at short notice.” She turned and looked at the children. “This must be your family.”

  Lynne gestured. “Mrs. Prendergast, meet Holly and Owen.”

  They shook hands.

  “And Adam and Chantel, Ron’s brother’s children.”

  “Hi,” said Chantel shyly. Adam thrust out his hand, copying Owen.

  “Welcome to England,” said Mrs. Prendergast, then led the way through the open door, talking to Lynne over the children’s heads. “Come and see the rooms. We often rent this cottage during the summer, so everything’s in order. I’ve put the girls in the ground floor bedroom. There’s a bathroom downstairs as well as up so it will be nice and easy for Chantel. The boys have the front room upstairs, and you have the room at the back. I’ve left basic groceries in the fridge so you should have everything you need.”

  Carrying their backpacks, the children followed the adults.

  * * *

  “Our room has French doors leading to the garden.” Holly ran across the bedroom and flung them open. She stepped out from the back of the house onto a sunlit patio containing pots filled with brightly colored plants. A path ran from the patio across an expanse of lawn.

  Chantel followed. “There’s a gate at the end of the garden.”

  A rapping on the bedroom door interrupted them.

  “Can we come in?” called Owen.

&
nbsp; Holly ran back inside and opened the door.

  The boys rushed through and leapt onto the nearest bed, pushing and shoving each other.

  “Hey, that’s my bed,” complained Chantel. “Mess it, you make it.”

  Adam blew a raspberry.

  Owen laughed. He somersaulted onto the pillow and finished upside down in a headstand, his legs against the wall. “So what’s the big mystery about the acorn, Sis?” he asked, his face going red as he concentrated on keeping his balance.

  “Don’t call me Sis,” Holly said, playing for time. She wanted to hug the Forest Magic to herself a little longer.

  Owen grinned. “Sorry, Holly!” he chanted.

  Adam and Chantel chuckled.

  Holly tried to change the subject. “We’ve got our own entrance, look. We can sneak out at night.” She pointed to the French doors and the path down to the garden gate.

  “Come on Holly . . . what’s with the acorn?”

  Holly gave up, knowing that Owen would give her no peace. “You’re not the only one who got a magic message today. So did I. A tree spoke to me.”

  “What?” Owen collapsed, landing on Adam in a tangle of legs and arms.

  “Thought that would get you,” said Holly.

  Chantel’s eyes widened. “One of the oak trees?”

  Holly nodded. “Yes, the Mother Tree.”

  Adam pushed Owen off his chest. “Wild! What did it say?”

  “Not a lot. Dad called and I had to leave,” Holly admitted. “But it sounded anxious. It worried about dark things stirring and I said I’d help if I could. Then it told me to keep its acorn safe ’cause it holds the power of the Greenwood. Oh, and it knew I’d been to the Place Beyond Morning. It saw stardust in my hair!”

  Everyone stared at Holly’s head.

  Laughing, Holly covered her curls with her hands.

  “I thought it was dandruff,” said Owen, deadpan.

  Holly grinned but refused to be baited. “Anyway, that’s why I was mad when Adam dropped the acorn.”

  “Can I see it again?” Adam asked.

  Holly pulled the acorn out of her pocket and handed it over.

  Adam examined it carefully, then handed it to Owen.

  “Looks ordinary,” Owen said. “What’s it supposed to do?”

  Holly shrugged. “No idea.”

  “Ask the Wise Ones,” said Adam. He grinned and pointed to a shrub growing beside the patio. “Or maybe a twig will tell you.”

  Holly ignored him. “There’s more. The tree gave me permission to use its mistletoe, and it taught me some words of power.”

  “Mistletoe. That’s really useful. Christmas is only six months away,” said Owen sarcastically. “So, go on. What are the words of power?”

  Holly looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell,” she muttered.

  “Of course you are . . . we’re all in this together,” Owen protested. “We might need words of power to help Ava.”

  “Holly’s right. Words of power can be misused.” Adam unexpectedly supported Holly.

  Everyone stared at him and he flushed. “They shouldn’t be said out loud in case something evil is listening,” he persisted. “Remember when we were looking for the talisman? The dragon wanted me to use words of power to set him free forever.”

  Chantel shuddered. “That would have been awful.”

  A long silence fell as everyone relived Chantel’s narrow escape.

  “Tell you what,” said Holly finally. “If we take a solemn oath not to misuse the words, I’ll show you. I’ll write them down. But you must promise never to say the words unless you really, really need to.”

  “That’s fair,” agreed Owen.

  “We promise,” chanted Chantel and Adam.

  Holly tore a page from a notepad beside the bed and wrote down the phrase, just as it sounded. Lee-at mur hoylew. To thee as thou deservest. She showed everyone.

  Owen and Adam burst out laughing.

  “No wonder you didn’t want to say it,” sputtered Owen.

  “What language is this?” grinned Adam.

  “Mother Tree called it Oldspeak. It’s probably spelled wrong, but that’s what it sounded like.”

  Owen snatched the paper and began rolling the words around his tongue. “Leeat . . . ”

  Holly clapped her hand over his mouth. “OWEN!!”

  “Mmm.” Owen pulled back. “I’m sorry . . . I forgot. I won’t do it again, I promise.” Owen’s lips moved silently as he committed the phrase to memory then thrust the paper at Adam.

  There was silence as everyone in turn memorized the magic words.

  “We’d better take a vow never to tell,” said Chantel as she handed the paper back to Holly.

  “And you all better keep it,” muttered Holly, looking daggers at Owen.

  The children stood up, clasped right hands in the center of the circle and crossed their chests with their left hands, while chanting:

  Cross my heart and hope to die,

  Should I ever tell a lie.

  I made a promise not to tell.

  If I do, I’ll go to hell.

  “Ava said dark things are stirring,” Owen remarked as they dropped hands. “So did your tree.”

  “Two messages,” said Chantel after a moment. “One about a circle and another about a forest, both saying the same thing.”

  “Neither makes much sense,” said Adam.

  “Bet they will when Ava talks to me again,” said Owen.

  He walked over to the French doors. “Come on . . . I want to find the Stone Circle. Where does the gate go?”

  Holly shrugged. “We’ve not had time to find out.” She led the way up the garden path and looked over the gate.

  “Owen,” she gasped. “The stones! They’re right here!”

  3.

  CIRCLE TO THE RIGHT

  The tall gray stones marched in a curve along the far side of a daisy-studded field. As Holly, Owen and Adam stared, the sunlight seemed to brighten and shimmer around them.

  “They are magic stones,” breathed Chantel as she hobbled up behind everyone.

  Owen unlatched the gate and they entered the field. He stopped and everyone piled into him. He pointed to the sky.

  A small hawk circled above. Closer and closer it flew. A feather loosened from its tail and spiraled to the ground as the hawk glided to the top of one of the great stones. It perched and stared haughtily across the field toward them.

  “I bet that’s Ava. She’s sending another message.” Owen took off, running toward the fallen feather.

  Adam followed.

  “Wait for us,” Chantel called.

  “They never wait,” said Holly. She kept pace with Chantel who grasped her crutches and hobbled as fast as she could over the grass.

  Owen picked up the feather.

  The hawk spread its wings and soared across the deep hollow behind the stones. It disappeared in a distant stand of trees.

  Adam touched Owen’s shoulder. “Just coincidence. There must be loads of hawks around.”

  “I suppose so,” muttered Owen. He shaded his eyes and strained for a glimpse of the hawk, then tucked the feather in his pocket.

  Adam surveyed the nearest megalith. It towered over him. “The stones are humungous. What do you think they weigh?”

  Owen’s shoulders were hunched with disappointment.

  He shrugged. “Tons and tons. They’re too heavy to move.

  Ava said the stone turned, but no one could turn these.” He leaned against the stone and pushed with all his might.

  A strange look came over his face.

  Adam wasn’t paying attention. He was fooling around the adjacent stone, jumping up to try to touch its topmost edge.

  “Here!” Owen’s voice was sharp.

  “What?” asked Holly as she, Chantel and Adam joined him.

  Owen had his hands on the stone. “Feel the stone, and listen,” he said.

  Everyone placed their palms on the gr
ay surface.

  “What are we listening for?” asked Holly.

  “Shut up,” hissed Owen. “Just do it.” He leaned his cheek against the stone and closed his eyes.

  Mystified, the other children copied him.

  The stone’s gritty surface felt surprisingly warm to their cheeks. Each child became aware of sheer bulk, weight and tremendous age. They leaned into the rock and heard and felt a throb, a slow steady pulse beating deep inside.

  Everyone’s eyes flew open.

  “Did you hear it?” said Owen. “Did you?”

  “What is it?” asked Chantel.

  Owen shook his head, closed his eyes and listened again.

  “I know,” said Adam quietly. “I’ve heard it before, in the rocks beneath Wayland’s Smithy. It’s the heartbeat of the stones. They’re alive.”

  * * *

  The stones quivered with delight. The children were true shamans. They could hear the stones’ hearts. They would listen and learn, and once more the ritual would be performed. Then the stones would be strong again and could fulfill their purpose.

  As the stones rejoiced above ground, deep beneath one of them, something stirred.

  Trapped in an earthen cell, the night-prowling wraith struggled and writhed. It hated the stones. They were its enemy and jailer. But now the old order was changing.

  With each dark came a few hours’ freedom. Last night’s excursion had been special. Extra strength had filled the night air as if a Dark Power were approaching. A little more dark strength and the wraith could throw off the stones’ influence and rise from its cell forever. It already had enough power to meld with an unsuspecting child. The stones would then be powerless to stop it entering the magical center. They could hurt and imprison the wraith, but they would never hurt a child!

  Children were near. Soon . . . soon . . . its time would come. The wraith shrank into a small tight ball to wait.

  * * *

  Holly danced around the stone. “Magic’s working. We are in the right place.”

  Adam jabbed her. “People are watching,” he said.

  They turned to see a group of people laughing at their antics. One of them was a girl in her late teens with platform shoes, a black Lycra crop top and dark shiny hair hanging down to the small of her back.