Shadows at Stonewylde - By Kit Berry Page 0,46

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.

7

Asmall fire burnt in the mouth of the cave keeping the darkness and cold at bay. The guardian owl sprinkled something onto the flames which crackled blue and green and the temple filled with aromatic smoke, heavenly in its sweetness. She breathed deeply and laid her head down again in the darkness, comforted by the fire and the owl. He wore a strange cloak of dark feathers but had a silver head, and he crouched by the entrance protecting her. Already he’d saved her from the waters, carrying her in his wings high into the hills to this temple cave where she was warm and safe. Curled up on a coarse old blanket and a bed of crispy bracken she smiled and let her mind roam free.

Some time later she became aware that her owl was completely still and silent, sitting sentry at the mouth of the Dolmen. She heard his deep, rhythmic breathing in the darkness and knew his mind was travelling, roaming, journeying. She hoped his wings were carrying him to great heights, soaring above the everyday and into the realms of dream. She’d been there herself tonight, to the place between the worlds where all is shadow and smoke. Despite the rush of terror the place induced she loved it, glimpsing things beyond her knowledge and experience, feeling the thrill of the mystery. But now there was a strange feeling – a pulling and tugging at her soul. There was something she should be doing now, something very important, but she’d forgotten what it was. Her eyelids grew heavy as she felt herself drift away again.

*

The black-robed figures dragged the heavy burdens around the labyrinth, lurching in the soft earth. On their sledges the five white-clad bodies lay motionless, already close to death from exposure to the crisp night air. In the centre stood the masked figure representing the Bird, who led the Death Dance. The Bird looked up and noted the hundreds of black birds perched on the standing stones and jostling in the trees around the Stone Circle. That was how it should be; raven, crow, rook, jackdaw, starling and blackbird. All were here to pay their respects to the Dark Angel, having left the labyrinth in the Village Green once the great bonfire had been lit for the wheel-turn dance.

The Bird nodded and continued chanting, calling upon the Dark Angel to visit tonight, to walk this labyrinth of death and take with him those souls ready to depart. Soon this part of the ceremony would be over as the people pulling the sledges reached the centre of the labyrinth and left their white burdens there, arranged around the funeral pyre ready for the cup which the Bird would offer them. Then came the long vigil through the dark hours of night until dawn.

Over by the Altar Stone the two crones were silently watching the sledges’ inexorable progress. Tonight they’d performed a special ceremony; using the powerful magic of the Dark Moon, they’d cast a great circle within the Stone Circle itself and marked the five points of the pentangle. They’d summoned the elements, calling upon the powers of earth, air, fire, water and spirit. They’d raised the energy and even now it was spiralling deeper and stronger, strengthened by the sacred pattern within the labyrinth, by the chanting and the drumming, by the fear of those taking part in the Dance of Death. It was negative energy, a dark malignant energy, whose climax would be reached at midnight when the Wheel of the Year notched full circle and Samhain flowered fully into dreadful bloom. Then the gateway into the Otherworld would be wide open momentarily and the invitation could be made.

Already the veil was thin and gauzy, allowing tantalising glimpses into the place where the dead walked. Already contact had been made with those who’d passed on, those who crowded at the door looking back. There were many waiting, layer upon layer of faces jostling for a glimpse of all they’d left behind, hoping their loved ones were also waiting on their side to greet them. A glimpse was all they could hope for because the portal was one way only, living to dead. Unless … unless the magic could be raised by those who knew how,

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