Heart of the Hill (6 page)

Equus and I must leave you, for the Place Beyond
Morning needs repair. We will use the renewed power
of the talisman and circlet to rebuild the Silver Citadel
and the Great Gates of Sunrise. Once they stand tall
they will act as defenses. The Dark Being will find it
harder to put out the light.

Owen caressed Ava's feathers.
I'll miss you.

The hawk bowed her head, and Owen caught a glimpse of something glinting among her feathers.

“Oh!” Owen gasped, forgetting to mindspeak. “You're wearing your circlet!”

It is a permanent part of me, thanks to you and
the other Magic Children.
Ava spread her wings and grew, shape changing. For an instant Owen saw her towering above him, a shimmering, strangely beautiful hawk-woman, whose brow was crowned by a glowing twist of silver bands holding a white moonstone in the center.

The image faded away, and Ava shrank back to a small hawk once more.
I must go and rebuild. You will not
hear from me until I return,
she continued.
Promise
you will give Myrddin and Adam your aid.

I'll help them,
promised Owen.
So will Holly and
Chantel.

Ava's eyes bore deep into his heart.
Joining forces
may not be easy. The Dark Being and her followers will
sow discord and dissent. Alliances may be uneasy.

With this remark the hawk spread her wings and soared from the hay bale, through the open shutters and toward the clouds.
Farewell, Owen. May light be
always in your heart.

Owen hung out of the window. “Good luck, Ava,” he called and watched until she vanished.

“You mean
all
of you have been visited by a Wise One?” said Holly crossly. “What about me? Don't I count?”

Adam and Owen shifted on their seats and dropped their eyes.

“It … it's not that.” Owen spread his hands wide. “It's just … well … There are only three Wise Ones,” he finished with a rush.

Holly gave a snort of frustration.

“There's the Lady.” Chantel's quiet voice caught everyone's attention.

Chantel flushed but held her ground. “You keep forgetting: there are four Wise Ones, the Lady's sleeping. She'll wake up soon. That's why Equus and Ava are going to the Place Beyond Morning. To get it ready for her.”

“Right, Holly. You'll help the Lady,” said Owen, relieved. “So let's get on with helping Adam. How are we going to get to Glastonbury?”

“Holly thought Mr. Smythe might know. He visits Glastonbury,” said Adam. “He was pretty cool in the first adventure. He believed us about the magic, even though it never happened to him.”

“Good idea, sis.” Owen punched Holly's arm. “Come on, let's see if he's in.” Grabbing his raincoat from the front hall, he yelled up the stairs to the office, “We're going round to visit Mr. Smythe, Mum… Okay?”

“Don't be late for tea,” his mother replied.

“And don't call me ‘sis,'” muttered Holly as she followed. The droop of her shoulders mirrored her disappointment and frustration.

Heads down against the driving rain, Adam and Owen ran up the flag pathway alongside the Big House. They passed the imposing entrance, heading instead for the small green back door. Adam arrived first. He rat-tatted on the lion's head knocker, grinned at Owen and jiggled impatiently.

Chantel limped behind as fast as she could, but Holly lagged even farther.

Holly felt moody and out of sorts. As the eldest she wasn't used to being overlooked. She kicked a pebble off the path and watched as it bounced over the grass sending up fine sprays of water. She tried giving herself a mental shake. This summer was incredible. They'd had two unbelievable adventures, and now they were beginning a third. But she was so fed up with being the eldest, being sensible and patient and helpful to the others. When would it be her turn to be important and help this invisible Lady? Holly stopped as a curl of anticipation stirred inside her. What would the Lady be like? Equus was the great White Horse King and Ava an amazing half-woman, half-hawk shape changer. Myrddin seemed the most human, though his red hair and beard and black cape of hidden colors made him almost spectacular. A tiny smile lifted the corners of Holly's mouth. The Lady would be beautiful. She could feel it in her bones. The Lady would be as beautiful as the raindrop diamonds sparkling on the grass. Feeling hopeful, Holly ran to catch up with the others.

“Welcome, welcome! What a good idea, a visit with friends will help unseasonable weather pass unnoticed.” Mr. Smythe opened the door and waved them inside. He flattened his tall wiry frame against the wall so they could enter the cramped passageway and hang their dripping coats.

Adam was first into the familiar kitchen. He stepped onto the stone floor and took a deep breath—ah, the smell of old books! He gazed around the cluttered room with satisfaction. His mother never let him collect junk, and his few books were kept neatly on a shelf in alphabetical order. He gave a little shudder — who knew what would happen to them now.

Mr. Smythe's kitchen wasn't just where he cooked; it was where he lived. Books were piled on chairs, on the table and on the floor, creating a maze to edge through. Perched haphazardly among them were interesting archeological objects.

A plastic bowl full of sand supporting a glued pottery urn currently held pride of place on the large wooden table. Pieces of bone and geological samples were scattered along the edge of the kitchen dresser, jostling for space among the plates and cups. Cracked jugs and bits of metal from ancient bridles hung from hooks in the ceiling. The walls were covered with photos and maps, old maps, new maps and two giant aerial photos of the White Horse and the Red Horse that had started their adventures. Everywhere Adam looked there was something fascinating. This room was his idea of heaven.

Mr. Smythe gathered a scatter of papers together and tucked them between the pages of a reference book, clearing a space at the end of the table. Each child removed a pile of books from the nearest chair and placed them on the floor. Eventually everyone had a seat. They beamed at each other.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” asked Mr. Smythe, rubbing his hands together and stretching his fingers. “Are you in the middle of another interesting adventure?”

Owen did not beat about the bush. “We don't know yet, Sir,” he said briskly. “We might be. We need to go to Glastonbury.”

“Ahh.” Mr. Smythe's eyes twinkled. “Glastonbury is it? Don't tell me … you are going to look for King Arthur's Holy Grail.”

The kids shook their heads.

“Excalibur?”

They shook their heads even more vigorously.

Mr. Smythe sat back and waited.

Adam leaned forward over the table. “The truth is … well, we kind of don't really know yet what we have to do … But, but … have you ever heard of … the Spiral Labyrinth?”

Mr. Smythe thought for a minute, then picked up a pencil and a scrap of paper and drew an elaborate shape. “You mean this? It's a spiral that folds back on itself.”

All the children sucked in their breath, and a flare of excitement grew inside them. There it was. The same symbol that had appeared on the lawn that morning.

“That's it,” said Adam. “What does it do?”

“Ah … what you call a spiral labyrinth, archeologists know as the Classic Cretan Maze! It unlocks secrets, hides things, baffles people, allows people to meditate while walking it, and the making of it can be considered an ancient spell,” said Mr. Smythe. “It's one of the oldest magical symbols in the world. It's been found carved on rocks, drawn in ancient manuscripts; it's even sculpted around the side of Glastonbury Tor.” He walked over to his bookshelf, pulled out a book and riffled through until he found a photograph.

Adam sucked his breath. That was it! The photo showed the tower-topped hill of his dreams, complete with the elaborate path circling its sides.

The others pored over the photo with interest.

Holly ran her finger across part of the labyrinth.

“This is amazing. Who made it and why?”

Mr. Smythe shook his head. “No one knows, though we assume it has some sort of ceremonial significance.

We don't even know how old it is, though we are guessing at several thousand years. There is no easy way of dating a path, and this wasn't recognized as the classic labyrinth until thirty years ago when an archeologist called Geoffrey Ashe realized that the terraces around the hill were linked in a pattern and walked it. Here, let me teach you how to draw it.”

Mr. Smythe pointed toward a heap of scrap paper in the middle of the table and passed around pencils stored in a plastic skull with red glass eyes.

“Start with a cross and four dots making a square like this …”

“Place your pencil on the top of the cross, curve down and around the top right-hand dot, move back up over the top of the cross to drop down and touch the top left-hand dot.”