Behind the Sorcerer's Cloak (21 page)

Myrddin materialized on Barrule's summit within the horsehoe wall of rocks.

The mountain fell steeply away on all sides, but there was no view. Everything below was blanketed with clouds. Only Barrule's bleak peak poked through, along with several other mountains to the north.

The sun shone, but the air was cold. Myrddin's hair and cloak streamed and flapped as a strong gust of wind buffeted him. He staggered for a moment and stumbled on a patch of loose scree.

He spotted Manannan and Equus lower down the slope, within the shelter of one of the great ditches.

Manannan was watching for him and raised an arm in greeting. His upturned face reflected obvious relief at Myrddin's arrival.

Myrddin raised his staff and strode down to join them.

The children prevailed. You are whole again.
Equus's mindspeak met him, filled with gladness.

I have my staff. I am whole again.
Myrddin's answer was equally heartfelt.
But what has happened to Ava?

She challenged the vortex to let a speck of light into the
Dark Being's presence. The edge of the Dark touched her.
It consumes her. She's on my back. She needs pure light. Manannan has tried to heal her within a stone circle here
on Mann. The light was not strong enough.

Myrddin jumped into the ditch and bowed low to Manannan.

“Greetings, my friend. Forgive our invasion of your island and our bringing of the Darkness.”

“The Darkness came of its own accord,” countered Manannan, bowing equally low. “You bring Light and are thrice welcome. How may I help you further?”

Myrddin gestured to Ava. “We need magic stronger than Earth Magic. Ava is helpless until she bathes in light streaming directly from the Place Beyond Morning. We need an Old Magic circle that is also protected and fortified.”

“Then you must enter the magic realm in my care. We will reactivate the top of what the humans call the ‘Round Tower' on Pheric's Isle. Though unused for aeons, the Tower is the heart of Gaia's magic, a raised and fortified circle forming a beacon to the stars. It is sheltered by an enchanted castle, encircled by the realm of water. Entities of earth support it, and it is protected from above by an invisible web of magic.”

“Then grant us leave to enter your magic realm, Manannan.”

“Leave is granted, Myrddin,” replied Manannan formally. “But know the beacon will be seen throughout the universe.”

“There is no other way to heal Ava.”

“So be it.” Manannan blew. A great wind swirled, lifted all four beings and swept them away.

Their message dispatched to the Dark Being, the Shades hovered again above the protective web over Pheric's Isle.

One cried out in frustration. “Ssee insside, insside. The children come. Ssee, ssee!”

The blowing mist only allowed short glimpses of Holly and Owen in the castle ruins.

“Sspy, sspy by melding we will,” chanted two Shades and swooped down again toward the unsuspecting Mr. Cubbon as he made his way back across the causeway.

“Sstoronger, sstronger. Together thiss time, meld, meld, meld,” the Shades encouraged each other. They landed on the old fisherman's back, a dark stain on his sweater that quickly faded.

Mr. Cubbon staggered, then straightened. He turned and marched back to Pheric's Isle, his face once again contorted with rage.

“You're a keen pair of visitors,” said the ticket woman, laughing as she took the castle entrance fee from Holly and Owen. “Fancy sightseeing in this fog. We didn't expect a soul this afternoon. It will be just you, me and the archaeologists.”

“Archaeologists?” Holly echoed.

The woman nodded. “They're excavating a grave on the far side of the ruined cathedral. It's so exciting. I keep sneaking out to look. They've found bones and some grave goods. Ask them to show you the beautiful beads.”

Holly gave a tiny gasp.

“You can't miss the dig, even in the mist,” continued the woman. She thrust a map of the castle at Holly. “You're here, see?” She pointed with her finger to the map, then looked up and gestured with her arm. “Just bear to the right at the top of the steps and follow the walk. You'll get there.”

“Er, could I have a map too, please?” asked Owen. “Just in case we get separated.”

“Of course,” said the woman. She passed one over.

“Who needs a map?” Holly whispered as they walked toward the steps.

The raven had fluttered down and was stepping deliberately before them, occasionally turning its black head to check that they were following.

Holly and Owen made their way through a strange and eerie world.

The castle walls loomed high, enclosing them, screening them from the outside. The mist restricted vision and made the ruins into an endless maze.

Owen nudged Holly as they passed a battery of ancient cannons pointing through narrow slits, but the raven didn't pause. It led them through arches opening onto roofless rooms, past billows of mist gathering in hollows formed by caved-in buildings, up steps at the base of crumbling walls and over a lawn to a grassy rise.

The mist deadened sound.

No wind reached them, no voices, no hissing of waves or cries from the gulls. It was as though the world held its breath.

Holly's shoes squeaked on the damp grass.

“Shhh,” hissed Owen, then wondered why.

Ahead, shadowy figures stirred in the mist, and a sudden burst of laughter broke the spell. The raven soared to a perch on the nearest wall.

The children leaned over a rope barrier and looked down. Owen felt Holly stiffen. Several people squatted around a shallow excavation. Rock slabs, marked with fluttering tabs were stacked on one side of the dig. A heap of white quartz stones lay on the other. Between them lay the outline of a rocky grave containing the remains of a small, fragile skeleton.

Holly began to tremble. “Breesha,” she murmured. A tear welled up and trickled unnoticed down her cheek. Whatever she'd imagined in finding the grave, it wasn't this. Earth Magic was full of surprises.

Owen watched with interest as a young woman with a soft brush cleaned a half buried leg bone.

A man scraped dirt, a bit at a time, from between an arm bone and a rib. He placed the dirt in a bucket.

A second man paced around taking close-up photos.

An older woman sifted the buckets of soil painstakingly, stopping to pick out a small object with a pair of tweezers. “Found another bead,” she sang out. She held it up between the tweezers' tips, and gently blew dust away. “Blue glass, by the looks of things.”

Holly reached out to Owen, grabbed his hand and squeezed hard.

Owen squeezed back.

A man appeared. The woman dropped the bead into his palm. He disappeared into a makeshift hut beyond the dig.

“Hello, we've got visitors.” The woman brushing the leg bone had stopped to stretch. She waved. “Come to admire the Pagan Lady?” she asked.

Holly gulped and nodded, glad the mist obscured her teary eyes.

“Beautiful, isn't she?” The woman patted the leg bone. “We think she must have been someone really important. She's nearly a thousand years old and was buried with some amazing grave goods. It you walk around to the hut, Mitch will give you a peek at the necklace she was wearing. It's wonderful. We've found sixty-nine beads and are still finding more.”

Shaken and speechless, the two children made their way beyond the grave to the hut.

Mr. Cubbon clambered up the steps to the gatehouse and bullied his way into the castle, dismissing the ticket person with a brusque, “Don't be silly, woman. Why should I pay for a tour around the castle? I only need to find them dratted kids.”

Taken aback, the woman bridled. “No need to be rude, Mr. Cubbon. They're doing no harm. They went to the dig.”

Mr. Cubbon pushed past her.

Breesha's beads lay in a tray on a makeshift table. A bright lamp shone down on them.

The man called Mitch hovered over them, the newly discovered bead between his finger and thumb. With a swift movement, his hand darted down and placed the blue glass between two like-sized beads, one red, one amber.

Holly gave a tiny sigh and an almost invisible shake of her head.

“Isn't this an incredible find?” The man turned to the children, bubbling with enthusiasm. “We think this beautiful necklace means our grave belongs to a woman of some stature. The wife of a chief. Or maybe the Manx wife of a Viking explorer who brought beads back to her from each trip.”

He strode to the doorway of the hut and pointed beyond the walls, to where the sea would be seen if the mist lifted. “Imagine the scene: The explorer sails away on a Viking longboat and is gone for months, maybe years. Suddenly his sails are spotted. The women and children run down to the shore to meet him and his crew.” Mitch took Holly's arm and led her back to the table. He picked up a large amber disk. “The explorer sweeps the woman into his arms and presses into her palm a fabulous bead from a strange new land.” He pressed the disk into Holly's hand. “Trip by trip, the necklace grows longer and more spectacular. Trip by trip, her status grows.” He grinned down at the children.

Holly held the amber and stared up at him. Her fingers itched and tingled with magic. The black bead in her pocket grew hot against her leg. “What if she was the visitor and turned up on the island with the beads already around her neck, and everyone thought it was a magical necklace?” she said seriously.

Mitch laughed and retrieved the disk. “Good thinking, but unlikely. Women didn't explore. Much more likely to be my scenario.” He paused. “People might attribute magical powers to the unusual beads though…interesting idea.” He laughed and replaced the disk on the tray. The children's eyes followed it.

“We'll never know. Archaeology is based on facts. The facts are that we have found a non-Christian woman—a pagan lady—buried with unusual care and a variety of grave goods, including the remains of this fabulous necklace. The rest is just my imagination.” He looked down at the beads. “We're even guessing the order the beads were strung in. Fascinating, isn't it?” He smiled at the children.