White Horse Talisman Page 5

  “We do,” the crowd called back.

  Alfred produced a second purse, waved it in the air for all to see and dropped it in the bishop’s hand.

  “Then I charge the bishop to use this gold to provide food and drink to the scourers of future years, in memory of this day.” Alfred waved towards the entrance. Soldiers appeared. They carried skins full of mead into the circle. Women followed, dragging great baskets of bread.

  “My people — I invite you to break bread with me.” Alfred took a loaf, broke it in two and offered it to the crowd.

  The cheering could be heard for miles.

  After the meal, Alfred led the dignitaries from the earthworks.

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  We must follow, said the White Horse. He passed through the crowd and paused outside the embankment where Alfred and the coronation retinue had gathered.

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  Alfred nodded graciously to the bishop. “’Twas well done. Thank you, bishop.”

  The bishop bowed. “I had hoped not to include refer–ence to the horse and the stone. I pray you, sire, now you are beyond the gaze of the peasants, remove the heathen horse emblem.”

  Shocked, Ethrelda gazed from bishop to king.

  The king fingered the talisman. “’Tis a pretty piece, and far older than the kings of England if the stories be true. Mayhap the kingship should keep it safe.”

  The bishop lost his temper. His hand shot out and snatched the horse-hair braid. The ancient strands parted and the talisman dropped to the ground. The bishop smote the talisman with his staff. The soft gold broke in two. “’Tis blasphemy, sire. Have an end to it! As king you must uphold the teachings of St. Augustine and the One True Faith.”

  The king’s men leapt forward, swords drawn.

  Alfred raised his arm and stopped them. He looked at the bishop through narrowed eyes “Take care your role be not overstepped, bishop. Watch over the spiritual health of the people, but leave the ruling to me.” He motioned for his horse and leapt into the saddle. In a flurry of hooves, the horses wheeled around and the coronation entourage galloped down the hill, leaving the bishop sputtering in a cloud of dust.

  The bishop shook his cassock and led his monks and the young boy back along the Ridgeway towards the monastery.

  Only Ethrelda was left. Sadly she searched the trampled ground for the pieces of the talisman. One glinted from the grass. She pounced and held it to her heart while looking for its mate. At first she could find nothing. Then a tiny gleam made her scrape away some soil in a hoofprint. There was the second half, trodden deep into the dirt.

  Ethrelda rubbed the gold pieces clean on her shift and butted the edges together. She sighed. “A smith could forge you, but I have no skills. The bishop smote you, and no man will go against him. I must hide you.”

  Concealing the pieces in her palm, Ethrelda darted be–yond the ditch and ran across the hillside towards the White Horse carving.

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  Quick! Follow her! Chantel leaned forward over the horse’s neck.

  Of course, said the White Horse. But like you, Ethrelda is a Magic Child. Your time and hers must not mix. Stay silent so she does not sense your presence.

  I will, Chantel promised.

  The White Horse cantered slowly alongside Ethrelda, then stood at the head of his carving.

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  Ethrelda looked around. The camps were empty. The few people perched on top of the embankment were watching the revelries inside the earthworks. She stepped across the carved lines of the horse and knelt by the giant white eye.

  “I feel your presence, Horse King,” Ethrelda whispered. “You feel so near.”

  Chantel leaned forward and stroked the horse’s neck.

  He blew gently through his nostrils. Chantel’s mouth open-ed in a silent gasp as Ethrelda’s hair stirred with his breath.

  “Take back your talisman, Horse King. Though your magic is fading, may it never die,” Ethrelda whispered as she scrabbled a small hole deep into the chalk.

  Wait.

  Ethrelda cocked her head on one side as though listening to an invisible voice.

  You are wise beyond your years, Ethrelda. I thank you for recovering the talisman, but bury only one piece here. The red mare and I must be forever linked. To strengthen our link you must bury the other half of the talisman with her. Hide it in the chalk taken to fill the red mare’s eye at the time of our next scouring.

  “I will,” whispered Ethrelda. She dropped one gold piece in the hole, replaced the scrapings and stamped them down hard with her foot. The second piece she knotted into the hem of her shift for safety.

  “Goodbye, Horse King. I will do as you ask. May you and the red mare always run together.” Ethrelda looked around again; no one had observed her. She ran back into the great earthworks, where she mingled with the crowd.

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  The images wavered and the sunshine faded away. Chantel and the White Horse stood alone on the midnight hilltop.

  Was the other half of the talisman buried in the eye of the red mare? asked Chantel. Equus blew a gusty sigh through his nostrils. It was.

  Ethrelda was true to her word. If you find the red mare, you will find the other half of my talisman.”

  So there really is a Red Horse Vale?

  Yes, the vale is there still, though it has changed. The beautiful red mare and her foal vanished, and with her much of the horse magic. Find her, so she and I can ride the wind together and the old magic awaken further. If my talisman is found and made whole, the old magic will be even stronger.

  Chantel patted the horse’s neck. I’ll try to help you.

  The hooves of the White Horse struck the downs and horse and child took to the air, leaping through sunsets and sunrises, jumping the stars and swooping through swirling galaxies. They galloped together until the heavens rang with Chantel’s laughter. Eventually, breathless and exhausted, she shouted, “ENOUGH!”

  The White Horse paused on a silvery mountaintop.

  Where are we? Chantel asked.

  The Place Beyond Morning. What do you see?

  Chantel looked around and smiled. A land of silver. It’s pretty.

  Equus sighed. Are you tired, child?

  Chantel nodded. Yes. It’s hard to hold on.

  Then lie along my neck. We will return.

  Chantel lay forward along the smooth white neck, clasp–ing her arms around it. Sleepily she rubbed her cheek against the warm skin and smiled, as she smelled the horse’s musky scent. His muscles bunched beneath her and the air streamed past, lifting strands of mane to tickle her face. A smile still on her face, Chantel felt her eyelids droop. She slept.

  CCC “I took the child to the Place Beyond Morning,” said Equus.

  “Did she understand?” Ava asked.

  Equus shook his head “How could she? All she saw was silvery beauty. She didn’t recognize the emptiness.” He sighed. “She is so young. Everything in her world is new to her. How can she understand what is happening in the universe? Even we were vanquished because we didn’t un–derstand in time.”

  Myrddin grunted in protest. “Not vanquished. We re–treated! Our land is still there. We will be back. We must go back. The balance must be kept. Light and dark …There must always be light and dark.”

  “But the dark is such a fearful dark,” Ava cried. “The Dark Being has grown so powerful that now the light is extinguished where she passes.”

  “Take heart, Ava. Even the Dark Being could not per–manently darken the Place Beyond Morning. Though empty, it shines still,” said Equus.

  Ava ruffled her feathers uneasily. “For how long? Last night I saw a small star go out. The Dark Being has become stronger. We must find a way to become stronger too.”

  “We will. My heart tells me the other children will soon hear me and help.”

  “Take care with the humans, Equus,” Myrddin cau–tioned. “As they waken our old magic, the Dark Magic stirs.

  Dark and light, light and dark. There can
not be one without the other. The human children may not recognize which is which. Take great care.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  FOUR FOR A BOY

  While Chantel slept in her hospital bed, Adam tossed and turned in the lower bunk. Owen slept peacefully on the top, but Adam couldn’t sleep. He was wrestling with his conscience.

  He had known looking after Chantel in England would be a pain, but now things were really awful.

  It’s not her fault, suggested the voice of his conscience, but Adam knew it was. If Chantel hadn’t whined to be in–cluded, if his mother hadn’t been on her side, then Chantel wouldn’t have come to England and fallen! Now instead of Owen and him having fun together, they were making stupid trips to the hospital.

  “It’s not fair,” Adam said out loud as he thumped his pillow angrily into another shape. “She spoils everything.” He slammed his head on the pillow. He was sick of his mom and dad dumping Chantel on him. They were always fight–ing and wanting her out of the way. Then when things went wrong they blamed him. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t Chantel’s parent. He was a ten-year-old kid.

  A surge of anger washed over him. He was angry with his parents and their secret discussions about a “trial separation.” As if he didn’t know! He was angry with Chantel and angry with himself for being angry with her. He was scared too, really scared. Divorce was scary, and what if it was his fault?

  Adam took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He blocked out the bad thoughts and conjured the horse pasture on a bright sunny afternoon. He and Owen were exercising the racehorses. He rode so well that Uncle Ron asked him to be a jockey in the next race. The race took place, and in a flurry of pounding hooves he won!

  Adam’s eyes sprang open as the memory of the real gal–lop across the hillside intruded. His frustration level rose again. Huh! he thought. Chantel falls and we all think she’s dead. Then she goes on about a magic horse and Holly and Owen believe her. It’s nuts.

  What if it’s true? whispered a voice.

  Adam tossed and turned again. How can it be true? he retorted. Auntie Lynne said Chantel might hallucinate.

  That’s what she’s doing!

  What about the broken token and her knowing about Wayland’s Smithy? answered the irritating little voice.

  I don’t know, admitted Adam wearily. His hand crept under his pillow and found the half-talisman he’d placed there. He wasn’t sure why he’d put it under his pillow. It just seemed the right thing to do. He clasped it angrily in his palm. I’m fed up with being messed around. I wish I could do something about it.

  Suddenly he became aware of something stirring in the darkness, not a real thing, more of a dark presence inside his head.

  You can. I’ll help you, said the voice calmly.

  Adam broke out in a sweat. This voice wasn’t his con–science. It was something else!

  All magic is quite simple, really, continued the voice. Anger is good. It makes you feel with passion. Feel your anger as you clasp the talisman.

  Suddenly, Adam found himself outside, surrounded by the soft darkness of night. He was not scared, just amazed. The velvet sky arched above him. A million stars sparkled. As his eyes adjusted, Adam recognized his surroundings. He was standing on the flat top of a small conical hill. The flank of White Horse Hill towered above him, and the valley called the Manger lay below.

  “Holy mackerel! I’m on Dragon Hill. How on earth? Who brought me here? Who are you?” Adam shouted, spinning around.

  With a soft chuckle, the voice in his head spoke again.

  I am the dragon. Some call me Worm. I am an ancient magic. I was old when the White Horse carving was young. But all that’s remembered of me are fragments of stories. It’s not the White Horse who needs help, boy. Its image is there for all to see. I, Worm, need your help. The dragon’s voice grew shrill. My need is greatest. I am trapped. He paused, then spoke again, softly and sweetly. I am almost lost to human memory. Please help me.

  Adam shifted uneasily. The White Horse had said some–thing similar to Chantel.

  Worm read his mind. We can show ourselves because there is a new Magic Child. Through her the old magic is stirring. She gave you the broken talisman. The dragon laughed softly. She did not tell you that whoever holds it holds power. Now you hold the talisman. It is strong and powerful, and your anger makes you strong and powerful.

  You attracted my magic as it began to stir. I grew strong enough to bring you here.

  Adam was aware of the talisman in his hand. It felt warm. He opened his palm. The gold piece gave off a soft beam of light. Adam’s anger stirred deep within him. How dare Chantel hide power from him?

  That’s good, whispered Worm. Let your anger fuel my dragon magic. Watch the light.

  The beam from the token became stronger. A flickering image appeared in its light. Adam cupped his hands and bent closer. A beautiful, blood-red dragon flew in the beam. A laughing boy was perched on his back between his shimmer–ing wings. The boy turned his head. He was Adam.

  Adam gasped.

  Yes. This could be you, whispered Worm’s sly voice. The Magic Child has the horse. Wouldn’t you like the dragon?

  Yes … Yes … I’d love to fly like that. But where are you?

  How come I can only see you in this beam of light?

  My magic is not yet strong enough. But old magic can be strengthened in many ways. One is to become a believer.

  We need many believers. Another way is to find and join the broken talisman. If you find the other half, boy, you will have power undreamed of. Until you do, keep this half safe. Sleep with it in your hand again, and I will bring you once more to Dragon Hill. What’s your name, boy?

  Adam.

  Adam … Adam. The dragon rolled the name around his tongue. A fitting name. It means first born. Adam, you shall be the first holder of the dragon magic. Names are powerful, Adam. You must use mine. Call me Worm and our bond will deepen.

  I could teach you words of power, Adam. Ancient and secret words that summon me. Unless they are spoken by the holder of the talisman, I will remain imprisoned be–neath your feet. Once I am free we will share magic. Free me, Adam, and you too can have power. The power to do anything. The power to change things however you wish.

  Adam staggered, almost overcome by the possibilities that flashed before him. He could stop his parents from fighting. He could stop Chantel from bugging him. He chuckled. He could turn her into a beetle! He could live on his own with Owen and they could do whatever they liked. He could have loads of money. Yes. He would free the dragon and together they would fix the whole world.

  Adam gazed in wonder at the bald earth beneath his feet. Dragon Hill … you’re inside Dragon Hill! Amazing! Tell me what to do and … and … I’ll let you out. We’ll fly around the world together and fix things.

  The dragon chuckled again. You are the eager one! His voice grew serious. But there is a price, Adam. To gain the power you must bring me the whole talisman.

  But …

  No time to argue, said Worm firmly. Bring me both halves of the talisman and I will show you how to use them. Say nothing to the others. Dragon magic is old and fragile until I can reappear and strengthen it. See, my image is failing.

  The flickering dragon in the beam of light was fading.

  Quick, clasp the talisman — I must return you. Come again another night.

  Adam folded his hand and cut off the glow. Darkness surrounded him, and he was filled with a sense of loss.

  Close your eyes and think of where you came from. The dragon’s voice was a faint whisper. Adam closed his eyes tight–ly and imagined lying in his bunk bed in the farmhouse.

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  A hand grasped his shoulder and shook hard. “Come on, Adam. Wakey, wakey! We’re going to Wayland’s Smithy today, remember?”

  Groggily, Adam opened his eyes to find Owen leaning over him.

  “You were dead to the world,” Owen laughed. “I’ve been trying to wake you for ages. Come on, break
fast’s ready.”

  During breakfast Adam hardly spoke. His mind was full of his dream. He refused eggs, chewed through a bowl of cereal and reached for some toast.

  The phone rang.

  “It’s your mother.” Holly handed the mobile receiver to Adam.

  Adam’s face lit up. He grabbed the phone. “Hi, Mom!”

  “Are you okay?” His mother’s voice sounded distant, with a tinny echo at the end of each sentence.

  “I’m fine. And Chantel’s getting better. I went to see her yesterday and we’ll go again today.”

  “What on earth were you all doing?” his mother said. “Chantel shouldn’t have been riding. She’s only seven.”

  “What do you mean?” Adam’s smile faded. “You let her ride. We all went trail riding last summer.”

  “Yes, but I was there. So was your dad. You shouldn’t have been out on horses on your own. I told you to look after your sister.”

  “Auntie Lynne and Uncle Ron let us. Holly and Owen ride everywhere.”

  “They’re older. I expected you to use some common sense.”

  “Mom, it wasn’t my fault. We were all doing fine. The lightning startled the horse. That’s why Chantel fell.” Adam’s voice rose. “No one can help lightning.” He hunched over the receiver and turned his back on his cousins.

  Holly and Owen stared at each other across the table.

  “Adam said they blame him,” Owen mouthed.

  Holly nodded. She busied herself with toast. Owen did the same. The distant voice on the phone droned on and on.

  Adam suddenly pushed the off button, and dropped the phone on the table.

  “You okay?” asked Owen.

  Adam looked at him, his face white. He shook his head and walked upstairs.

  Holly and Owen watched until he disappeared.

  “That sounded awful,” whispered Holly.

  Owen agreed. “Poor Adam. He had a bad night too. He tossed and turned for ages. He was real hard to wake up this morning.”

  Holly looked around. Her dad had left for the barns and she could hear her mother in another room. She dropped her voice further. “I wonder if Adam overheard Mum and Dad talking. I did.”