Heart of the Hill (10 page)

The weather forecast was right. The windshield wipers of Mr. Smythe's Land Rover worked overtime as he drove the children through Glastonbury town center in the early afternoon. High Street gleamed with a wet slick, and the multicolored festival banners dripped soggily from lamp posts, but the bad weather had deterred few from attending. The shops were doing a roaring trade in souvenirs; and the pavements were packed with a sea of umbrellas, rain slickers, people wearing extra large garbage bags and a variety of sodden tie-dyed wraps, swathing heads and shoulders, as they moved between festival venues. Despite the weather the atmosphere was electric.

A group of trumpeters and trombonists played jazz on a street corner, raindrops beading their instruments. A didgeridoo player and drummer sheltered in an archway, producing hypnotic rhythms. A mother and three children danced around the market cross, holding umbrellas high, and people smiled and made room for them.

The four cousins in the Land Rover wound down the rain-streaked windows so they could better see the activities.

“Watch for parking signs,” hollered Mr. Smythe. “The streets are narrow, and I'm trying to avoid both traffic and pedestrians.”

Adam stuck his head out of the side window. “There's a parking sign coming up on the left…Naw, it says full,” he added in disgust as they approached.

They stopped at traffic lights. A police cruiser halted in the lane beside them. Holly hung out of her window and waved. The constable lowered her window.

“Please, do you know where there's parking?” Holly shouted.

The policewoman pointed up a side street. “All spaces in town are full. Try Spears Fields. About a mile that way.”

Holly waved her thanks and drew her head back inside the car. “Got that?” she asked Mr. Smythe.

He nodded tersely. “Yup, but if we have to go a mile out of town we might as well go to Mervin's house and walk in from there.” He leaned on the horn as two young women with tinsel in their hair and gauze fairy wings pinned to their backs drifted damply across the road just as the lights changed.

“Blessings,” they chanted, bestowing a smile in Mr. Smythe's direction.

He ground his teeth and turned into a side street.

Wearyallhill House was shrouded in mist, as was the steep hill itself. The car sputtered slowly up a narrow drive. A gate loomed, blocking their way. Mr. Smythe muttered under his breath and stepped on the brake.

Adam leaped out and pushed the gate open.

“Can you walk up to the house from here?” called Mr. Smythe. “The driveway's so steep I'd rather not stop again.”

Adam raised his hand as they drove through. He shut the gate and paused, squinting through the mist and drizzle, trying to see the view.

The rain had stopped, and there was a brightness in the air as though the sun was attempting to break through.

A burly bearded figure muffled in a cloak tramped up the drive through the mist toward him. The figure raised an arm in salutation.

“Greetings, Adam,” said a familiar voice as the figure drew level with the gate.

“Myrddin!” exclaimed Adam. He threw open the gate again. “Am I dreaming? You're real?”

“I can be,“ agreed Myrddin.

“Oh, boy! Am I glad to see you …”

A gesture silenced him. Myrddin turned and faced downhill. He stretched out his arms, then slowly raised them.

The mist raised like a curtain and revealed the view.

Adam gasped.

The Tor appeared on the opposite side of the valley, its tower etched black against a newly washed blue sky.

Adam picked out the terraces of the spiral path and once more felt the magic tugging at his feet. He took a stumbling step forward, but the gate and Myrddin's hand on his arm restrained him.

“Not yet,” rumbled Myrddin, “not just yet. You must prepare. Come.” He turned and trudged up the drive.

“Welcome to my house.”

“Your house! What do you mean? This is Mr. Green's house. He's a friend of Mr. Smythe's,” panted Adam as he ran after Myrddin.

“Mr. Smythe and I have been friends for many years,” agreed Myrddin.

Adam stopped dead in his tracks. “You mean… does he know … ?”

Myrddin turned to Adam. “Does he know I am the Myrddin? No. He knows me as Mervin Green, a historian knowledgeable in folklore and old beliefs.”

“But … but … I thought … aren't you from …?” Adam waved his arm vaguely at the sky.

“Yes, but I am the Wise One with the closest relationship with the humans of Gaia. Over the aeons I have spent several human lifetimes here, before Old Magic waned. Your time is different from ours. A lifetime on Gaia is but a few days in our reality. Come … now that you are here we must begin,” said Myrddin as he strode on up the drive.

Holly, Chantel and Owen were clustered on the front steps with Mr. Smythe, admiring the view.

“Ah, Mervin! I guessed you were taking a walk,” said Mr. Smythe. He leaped down and shook his friend's hand vigorously.

The children gaped.

Chantel nudged Holly. “He looks like …”

Holly hushed her.

“It
is
him,” whispered Owen. “Look at Adam.”

Adam ran around the men and joined his cousins and sister. His face was flushed and his eyes sparkled with excitement. “Can you believe it?” he hissed. “Now things are really going to happen. But careful what you say. Mr. Smythe doesn't know!”

The children swiftly unloaded the Land Rover, carrying their backpacks into the house.

Mr. Smythe yawned and stretched. “Sorry, folks. I need forty winks; I'm beat. It was tricky driving in this rain.” He furrowed his brow at the children. “I know you need to go to Glastonbury Tor, but could you give me half an hour to snooze?”

“Sure, we'll visit with Mr. Green,” said Adam heartily.

“Nap as long as you need,” agreed Owen.

Mr. Smythe scratched his head, but another yawn overtook him. “My usual bedroom?” he asked as he started up the stairs.

Myrddin nodded. “Relax, my friend. The young people and I have lots to talk about.”

As soon as the bedroom door clicked shut, the children's questions spilled out.

“One at a time, one at a time,” rumbled Myrddin. He led the way through the house to a sun-splashed veranda overlooking the valley.

“Come, tell me all while we watch the Tor,” he said sweeping the raindrops off the table and chairs with the edge of his cloak.

Holly pulled Adam aside. “My arm's killing me. Could you fetch the cup out of my pack?” she whispered. “I wrapped it in a silk scarf and stuffed it in the middle of my T-shirts.”

“Sure.” Adam ran back to the house and rummaged inside Holly's pack. The silk bundle was easy to spot. He carried it out to the veranda. “Oh, boy, are we glad to see you, Myrddin. Things are heating up. Take a look at this.” He unrolled the scarf and tumbled the bowl onto the table.

Myrddin's eyebrows clamped together. His hands shot out and cradled the bowl. “The Glastonbury Cup! How did this come into your possession?”

“I caught it … in a dream about the past.” Holly's voice quavered at Myrddin's stern expression. “At least … I think it was a dream. I … I walked the labyrinth that appeared on our lawn, and it sucked me inside.” She told Myrddin of the cavern, visiting the village in the lake and witnessing the fight. But she stopped short of mentioning the slash on her arm.

Myrddin muttered into his beard. “Vivienne and the Labyrinth grow powerful.” He glowered at the Tor.

“Thoughts of Glastonbury must have been in your heart, Holly,” he said finally. “For the Portal's archway took you into its past.”

Holly nodded. “That's right. The voice asked me where I wanted to go, and I thought of home. Then Glastonbury popped into my mind.”

“You saw the days when the Glastonbury valley was flooded by a shallow lake spotted with small islands. You visited what modern archeologists call a ‘lake village,' a group of huts on one of the islands. At that time the people called the Tor ‘Avalon' and knew it as the Lady's sanctuary. Arto, though you saw him as a young man, was once a Magic Child like you. He knew both me and the Lady.”

Myrddin sighed and searched each child's face. His own face looked worn and gray. He fingered the bowl uneasily.

“Magic Children, the edges between dreams and reality, past and present, are blurring as Old Magic and Dark Magic are roused. It's happening sooner than I expected.” He sighed again. “Unknown and unforeseen dangers loom when dreams and reality mix. You are children and deserve protection, but neither I nor the other Wise Ones can protect you against this new surge of power.”

Myrddin brooded. The children shuffled in their seats. “You must help us no longer,” Myrddin finally rumbled. “I thank you and honor you, for you achieved the impossible by recovering the talisman and the circlet. I cannot and will not allow you to do more.”

The children's eyes widened. There was a babble of protest.

“But we promised we'd help,” said Holly. Her cheeks flamed with two red spots.

Myrddin peered at her from under his eyebrows.

“You have helped. All of you helped. You kept your promises. But now the balance of Light and Dark has changed and the task must pass to others.” There was a note of finality in his voice.

“Hold on a minute,” Adam insisted. “What others? There
is
no one else! It's you and us, Myrddin.”

“Adam's right,” Owen broke in. “Ava and Equus have gone to fix the Place Beyond Morning. They told us.”

He nudged Chantel for confirmation.

Chantel agreed. “Then they're going to wake the Lady,” she added softly.

Tears poured down Holly's face. “This is all my fault, isn't it? I shouldn't have entered the Portal and caught the bowl. Bringing it back was bad, wasn't it? It altered the balance?”

“No, no, this is not your fault, Holly.” Myrddin clumsily patted her shoulder. “Old Magic is fighting for its life. Earth Magic is part of it. The cup may be here because Earth Magic called it, and you were available as the carrier.”

“Return it,” pleaded Holly. “Please.”

Myrddin shook his head. “Only a human can do Earth Magic. Only a human can find the way of the cup's return.”

Holly hid her face in her hands and sobbed.

Now everyone stared at Holly. They were all upset and shocked, but Holly rarely cried.

“Hold on,” Adam said again. “Myrddin, who's going to return the cup if you can't, and who's going to get your staff?”

Myrddin spread his hands. “Sometimes it is best to let magic find its own way,” he said gruffly.

Owen snorted.

“What a crock,” said Adam. “You know there's only us … so … so you're stuck with us. Besides, the magic is finding its own way. We're Magic Children, and things are happening to us whether you like it or not. You didn't make me dream about the Tor and the Spiral Labyrinth. I did it before you came for me. You didn't put the labyrinth on our lawn. It just appeared. And you didn't make Holly walk it. She just did, and the cup fell into her hands. So, how can we stop being involved?”

Myrddin sighed. “You are right. Magic will continue to seek you out, but you must ignore it.”

“No way … How can we … That's just stupid,” the children argued, all talking at once.

Myrddin held up his hand for quiet. “Only I can solve this muddle, and I can put it off no longer. The time has come for me to meet again with Vivienne.”

Adam pushed back his chair and stood up. He was trembling, but his eyes shone. “Okay, go ahead. You meet with Vivienne without your staff. Let her beat you! Then what's going to happen to Gaia?” He stamped his foot. “You can't stop us from helping. Quitting feels wrong.” His voice wobbled. “It
is
wrong … I feel it inside…We
have
to help, don't we?”

He looked down at the others. They nodded vigorously.