Heart of the Hill Read online

  Owen gave a nod.

  “As for Holly…,” Myrddin paused. “Earth Magic is seeking you. Listen to her voice. Come, time is short.”

  Abruptly, Myrddin set off down the hill again, toward the sprawling town below.

  Their thoughts whirling, the children followed.

  After pushing his way through the throngs of festival goers clogging the main streets, Myrddin led the children up a side street, Wellhouse Lane. It was peacefully empty. On one side a high brick wall contained an ancient stone fountain. A carved lion’s face spurted water into a brass cup attached to the basin by a long chain. “The Red Spring,” said Myrddin. “It rises inside the Tor. Drink for protection.”

  “From that manky cup?” Holly wrinkled her nose.

  Myrddin ignored her, picked up the brimming cup and held it out.

  “No,” said Holly. “Wait. We have to do it from this.”

  She checked that no one was around and pulled the Glastonbury Cup from her pocket.

  Everyone gasped and turned to Myrddin.

  “She is listening to Earth Magic,” he said. “We will take the risk.”

  Holly thrust the cup into the water and drank deeply.

  She passed it to Adam, who sipped and passed the cup Owen. Owen wiped the rim with his sleeve, sipped and passed the cup to Chantel. She did the same and held the cup toward Myrddin.

  He bowed, drank and returned the cup to Holly.

  She emptied and rinsed it in the stone basin before replacing it in her pocket.

  “Come. Now we sip from the White Spring,” said Myrddin. He crossed the road.

  Opposite, a tiny stone house with the sign White Spring Café was built into the cliff. Beside the house, a flagged area containing two small tables and a tree was squeezed between the cliff face and the road. The tree, festooned with ribbons, was watered by a small stream that trickled between the flagstones and the tree’s roots.

  “There’s another magic Thorn,” said Chantel as they joined Myrddin.

  A young woman in a long swirling skirt and a tie-dyed halter-top came out of the café to greet them.

  “May five seekers drink the water from the White Spring?” Myrddin asked.

  “Darn it,” said the young woman with a grin. “I was hoping you were coming for lunch. No one’s explored this way because of the rain.”

  Adam and Owen looked hopefully at Myrddin, but he shook his head. “We don’t have time today, my dears.”

  “Then drink, and be blessed.” The young woman pointed to a tap in the café’s wall. “The water we use is piped from the White Spring and is free to all.” She returned inside.

  Holly produced the cup. Once again everyone drank.

  Calling thanks to the young woman, Myrddin led the way back to High Street and into an imposing Elizabethan building known as the Tribunal Hall.

  A small, agitated woman pounced upon him.

  “Have you heard about our burglary, Mr. Green? The Glastonbury Cup’s gone. Isn’t it terrible? Such a mystery! No one can understand how it was stolen.” The tiny woman with short tightly permed hair danced around Myrddin, dogging his steps up to the second floor, home of the Lake Village exhibit.

  “The police were here all day yesterday,” the woman twittered. “They’re totally baffled. Nothing was damaged. The case wasn’t broken. The cup just disappeared. Poof! As though it was magic!”

  Adam’s eyes brimmed with laughter. Chantel and Owen hid grins. Holly glared at them. The cup felt like a lead weight in her pocket.

  “It’s baffling, Mrs. Rolston,” grunted Myrddin.

  He strode through the exhibit room and stared into a central glass case. The children peered around him. In the middle of the case was a white cube with nothing on it but a small label: Iron Age bronze bowl with beaded rim. Known as the Glastonbury Cup. Approximate date 200 years bc. Found during the 1985 Lake Village excavation at Meares.

  Holly leaned her forehead against the cool glass as a wave of nausea swept over her. She felt awful. She was a thief, but it wasn’t her fault! The cup came to her on its own. She should give it back, but how could she? No one would believe her.

  “Don’t lean on the glass, young lady.” Mrs. Rolston briskly tapped Holly’s forearm.

  Pain radiated up Holly’s arm. She fainted.

  The doctor’s office was small and white and stank of disinfectant.

  The children crowded in with Myrddin, refusing to stay in the waiting room. “We want to know what’s going on,” insisted Owen.

  “So do I.” The doctor’s voice was grim as he tied off the last stitch on Holly’s arm. “If you weren’t such nice young kids, I’d have said she’d been in a knife fight.”

  “No … No,” everyone protested.

  “Holly was messing around and cut her arm on some sharp metal,” said Owen, thinking fast. “We’re not allowed to be near machinery. She was scared of getting into trouble, so we helped her. We smeared on antiseptic ointment and used the bandages from the first aid box.”

  Chantel shuddered. “We don’t even own knives.”

  The doctor straightened up. “All right, all right, I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t!” He looked down at Holly. “You’ll be groggy for a while, so go to bed and rest. I’ve cleaned the wound and given you an injection of painkillers and antibiotics.” He showed Holly some pills. “You must take two of these every four hours until they are finished. Do you understand?”

  Holly blinked and nodded. “Come back in twenty-four hours so I can check that the infection’s responding to treatment.” The doctor finished, then swung around and glared at the other children.

  “And don’t ever … ever again … think you can doctor yourselves. If that wound had been left for another day …” The doctor stopped short, biting his lip as the children looked back at him, wide-eyed.

  He patted Holly’s shoulder. “We caught it in time. You’ll do.” He sighed. “Call a taxi, and take her home, Mr. Green. She’ll be feverish until the antibiotics kick in. So, lots of fluids and rest. I’ll see her again tomorrow.”

  The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a blur of explanations to Mr. Smythe and attending to Holly.

  Finally Holly was safely tucked into bed at Wearyall-hill House.

  “Thanks,” she said sleepily and snuggled into the feather pillows.

  The others gathered in the dining room for a makeshift tea.

  Everyone was subdued, and Adam was in a blind panic. He hadn’t realized how much they relied on Holly’s calm presence and advice.

  “Now what?” he demanded. “I said I’d get your staff, but everything’s going wrong before we even start.” He waved a half-eaten sandwich at Myrddin. “Holly’s sick, too sick to help us. You can’t do magic or mindspeak because the Dark Being’s sidekick might sense you.” He gestured toward the sky. “Equus and Ava have taken off.” He pushed the Glastonbury Cup with his finger. “The police think this thing’s stolen, and the entire museum’s on alert, so we can’t put it back.” He swung around and glared out the window toward the Tor. “And all this has happened before I even try to walk the Labyrinth and find the heart of the hill.” He stuffed the sandwich in his mouth and muttered. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “Night is darkest before dawn,” murmured Myrddin.

  Adam snorted and crumbs flew. “Myrddin,” he protested. “That’s no help. I don’t even know what your staff looks like.”

  Myrddin’s eyes twinkled. “So you don’t. ’Tis a straight branch of oak topped by a fine crystal set in gold. It makes me look like one of the New Agers you despise.”

  Owen and Chantel smothered grins.

  Myrddin’s face sobered. “Adam, prepare for your task by focusing your mind. Concentrate on one thing: the Crystal Cave where my staff is hidden. Keep the image clearly in your head, and the Labyrinth and Portal will reveal its entrance. Do not be distracted or your thoughts will lead to other doors in the Portal. Focus your mind. Think only of the cave!”

&n
bsp; “I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” muttered Adam.

  “I’ll drive to the Tor,” offered Mr. Smythe. “Neither the Portal Keeper or the emissary of the Dark Being will sense anything odd about me. I’m just another tourist going to see the sunset.” He stopped and pulled a wry face. “Even if I have just discovered that my old friend Mervin Green is the Myrddin, and that magic is real. It’s quite a shock, I can tell you.”

  Myrddin leaned over and clasped his shoulder.

  “Take heart, friend. ’Twas not concealed for lack of trust.” Mr. Smythe returned the clasp. “I know. But it takes a little getting used to.” He stood up. “Ready, Adam?”

  Adam pushed back his chair with a clatter. “Okay. Let’s get it over with.” He looked at Myrddin. “But I still don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to do.”

  “Tread the Labyrinth and listen to your heart. Earth Magic will guide you,” rumbled Myrddin.

  Adam thrust out his chin. “So, that’s it? I’m supposed to find the courage to step into the unknown. But you won’t tell me what to do. You won’t help me?”

  “You know better than that,” said Myrddin. “I was not present at the closing of the Crystal Cave, so know not what Earth Magic enchantment was chosen to seal the Portal. Though I know my staff is hidden inside, I know not how it is concealed.”

  Adam dropped his eyes.

  “Help’s all around you, Adam, for Earth Magic seeps from the ground in Glastonbury.” Myrddin’s voice was reassuring. “But you must believe before it will reveal itself to you. You have the thorn twig?”

  “Yeah, in my backpack. What’s it supposed to do?”

  Myrddin ignored the question. He handed Adam the Glastonbury Cup from the table. “Take this. Its role is unclear to me, but it came for a purpose.”

  Adam tucked the cup in his jacket.

  “Go forth, Adam, explore the unknown with the courage and confidence of the First Born,” encouraged Myrddin. “The ancient symbols of Earth, Air, Fire and Water surround and support you. Walking the Labyrinth celebrates Earth. Above and around you is Air. Carry the cup, the symbol for Water, and in the Tor you will find the source of the Red and White Springs. The eternal flame burns in the Crystal Cave.

  “Fear none of these signs.”

  “You also carry with you the support of family and friends who are believers. You are Adam, the First Born—the first Magic Child in centuries to tread the Tor’s ancient Labyrinth. Enter the Labyrinth with a pure heart and let it guide you to the heart of the hill. Believe, and the staff shall be revealed to you.”

  The dread in Adam’s heart lessened and pride took its place. Myrddin was right. He was the First Born, not Chantel. His little sister had led the first adventure, but this was his chance. His parents never believed in him. Well, he would show them, he’d show everyone. He would find Myrddin’s staff. He would face the Labyrinth and Vivienne and win. He met Myrddin’s eyes proudly. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Myrddin’s smile lit up the room. “May light shine on you, Magic Child, and strengthen your courage. You will have a fine seeking.”

  Adam remembered how light had given them all the courage to survive the terrifying journey through Ava’s sanctuary in their last adventure. He stood up. “Okay, let’s go!”

  Owen and Chantel thrust back their chairs. “We’ll come with you.”

  Mr. Smythe looked at Myrddin. “Who will stay with Holly?”

  “I will. She needs protection, for the edges of reality and magic have already blurred in her dreams. The fever puts her at risk. While dreaming, she may travel to the wrong place and suffer an attack she cannot escape.”

  Chantel gasped. “You mean Holly’s not safe? Even though she’s asleep?”

  Myrddin sighed. “She is vulnerable. Old Magic is seeking her out of its own accord.”

  “Then I’ll stay … I’ll go to sleep beside her … I’ll … I’ll …” Chantel’s voice rose.

  Myrddin smiled but shook his head. “Well said, little one, but you must help Adam. ’Tis near sunset and people gather on the Tor. You are ‘The Singer’ and the seeker’s sister. You are linked to Adam. He will hear your voice, and it will give him strength. Helping him is the best way to protect Holly and Gaia.”

  Chantel gave a little nod.

  “What about me?” offered Owen. “Holly’s my sister. If Chantel and Adam work as a team, should Holly and I do the same? She shouldn’t be on her own.”

  Myrddin considered. “You have listened to your heart. Yes. The warrior will stand with his sister. I will show you how to enter her dreams.”

  Myrddin threw his arm over Mr. Smythe’s shoulder.

  “You too have a role to play, my friend. You have an ancient skill. Teach the boy how to stay on the spiral path. Teach him to use the Glastonbury Thorn.”

  Mr. Smythe’s eyes widened. “You mean dowse?”

  “Yes,” said Myrddin. “Leave now, before sunset. The boy needs to see his feet.” He herded the three of them outside and into Mr. Smythe’s car.

  Owen watched through a window as they drove away. He felt very alone.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  STIRRINGS IN DREAMS

  Owen and Myrddin tiptoed into the girls’ bedroom.

  Holly lay asleep in the twin bed nearest the door, her right cheek snuggled into the pillow and her bandaged arm resting on the top of the quilt. Her face was still flushed, but she was breathing evenly.

  “She looks better,” whispered Owen.

  Myrddin nodded and dropped his usually booming voice to a low rumble. “We may be lucky. If her dreams remain peaceful your job is only to watch over her from a distance. Do not approach or interfere unless she calls for assistance.”

  Owen spread his hands. “But how …? If you use magic to send me into her dreams, won’t the Dark Being’s follower catch you?”

  Myrddin gave a rumbling chuckle. “I don’t need magic, only an ancient skill. You’re the one who’s going to use magic.”

  Owen’s eyes widened.

  “You are a Magic Child. It is time you learned to access some of your powers.” Myrddin pointed to the second bed. “Relax. I will hypnotize you and guide your thoughts toward Holly. Though you will be in a deep sleep your mind will remain active. A Magic Child has a special skill. You have used it already to mindspeak with me and the other Wise Ones and during your dream journeys with Ava. Now is the time to use it with your sister. You will read Holly’s mind and enter her dream.”

  “You mean mindspeak is telepathy?”

  Myrddin grunted and produced a crystal globe from his pocket.

  Owen grinned. “Brilliant! I’ve always wanted to be hypnotized.”

  “Hush.” Myrddin placed a finger on his lips.

  Owen guiltily glanced at Holly. She stirred slightly but didn’t rouse.

  Owen clambered onto the second bed and lay back on the pillow.

  With a flick of his wrist, Myrddin sent the crystal ball spinning in the air just above Owen’s face. “Concentrate.”

  “Cool!” Owen said, grinning and staring at the glittering globe as it sent rhythmic flashes around the room. “This is the ultimate cool …” His voice trailed off and his eyelids closed.

  Leaning forward, Myrddin whispered instructions into Owen’s ear.

  Owen’s body relaxed into a deep sleep, and his dreamself floated free and began to search for Holly.

  The sun was a dull orange orb, hanging low in a streaky sky as Mr. Smythe drove Chantel and Adam toward the Tor. The car sped down Wearyall Hill and twisted and turned through a series of backcountry lanes so narrow that the grasses and brambles in the hedgerows brushed both sides. It grew dark and foreboding as trees bent overhead, shutting out the daylight.

  Adam shifted on the seat. As each second passed, his worry grew. Magic pulled at his body and mind as the car approached the Tor. He hated Vivienne. It wasn’t just her intimidating appearance; it was her voice. It crept into his head and compelled him to do things. What if he couldn’t r
esist? Adam shook his head to clear it, but nothing helped. Besides, it wasn’t just Vivienne he dreaded; it was the Labyrinth itself. He could feel its twists and turns around his body, squeezing him, constricting his chest.

  “Breathe in,” Mr. Smythe joked somewhat tensely as he eased the Land Rover around a tight corner. “Let’s hope no one else is using this lane.”

  “What if they are?” said Chantel.

  Mr. Smythe grimaced. “Someone would have to back up.” His tone of voice seemed to indicate it wouldn’t be him.

  Chantel nudged Adam and held up crossed fingers.

  Adam barely looked at her but did the same.

  “This will do,” said Mr. Smythe after squeezing around several more corners. He backed the car into the rutted space before an old five-bar gate and a crooked stile. “I don’t get the feeling this gate is used very often.”

  Chantel checked out the healthy looking clumps of nettles and the length of the grass growing along the gate’s base. She grinned.

  “Come on then. What are you waiting for?” Mr. Smythe opened his door and pointed toward the stile.

  Adam couldn’t move. “Why here? We’re in the middle of nowhere,” he muttered.

  Chantel looked from her brother to Mr. Smythe.

  “Come on, Adam, Mr. Smythe knows what he’s doing,” she whispered.

  With trembling legs, Adam left the car. He fought his way through the nettles, climbed to the top of the stile and pulled away the overhanging branches. He knew what was there before he saw it. He could feel it. Sighing, he lifted his eyes and looked from the shadows into the sunlight beyond. The flanks of the Tor rose steeply from the center of the field. There was no going back now.

  “We’re right at the base of the Tor,” he called to Mr. Smythe. “I couldn’t see it because of the hedgerows.”

  He jumped clumsily onto the grass.

  Chantel and Mr. Smythe followed.

  Adam’s dreams came back with a rush as he stared up at the steep hillside. He could sense the Labyrinth coiling back and forth around the Tor like a giant snake, waiting to swallow him whole.