The Giants’ Dance

Will took Willow’s hand, thinking about the harvesters who would be swept from the fields like so much chaff. Many of them would never return if the spectre of war was allowed to escape into the world. Willow asked what the wizard foresaw, and Gwydion told her about the battlestones and the significance of what had happened at Little Slaughter. She shook her head in concern at the news that Maskull was once more abroad.

‘Did you find the Dragon Stone?’ Will asked.

‘I entered Castle Foderingham and saw that the stone remained entombed there. I enmeshed it in fresh holding spells, and did all that I dared short of attempting to drain it. It now slumbers as deeply as ever it did.’

Will wondered what more there was to the wizard’s story. In particular, whether the Duke of Ebor had in the end given his consent.

He leaned across to check on his sleeping daughter. ‘Why did you bring her?’

She searched his face. ‘What else was I going to do?’

‘You could have left her with Breona.’

‘Will, she’s our child, and her place is with us.’

‘The work we’re about is perilous.’ He shook his head at her lack of understanding, still feeling the shock of the lesson that Gwydion had taught him. ‘I don’t want her to be put in danger.’

She gave him a hard look that stifled further comment. He glanced at Gwydion anticipating what the wizard would have to say on the matter. He did not have to wait long.

‘Tomorrow our fight against the battlestones must resume in earnest,’ Gwydion said. ‘Willow, you must stay here tonight, of course. But at first light tomorrow you should set off for home.’

‘As you can see, Master Gwydion,’ Willow said, unmoved by the wizard’s persuasion, ‘I’m well, and Bethe is well also. Far better than either of us would have been if a shooting star had landed flat on our village like it did on Little Slaughter.’

The wizard glanced at Morann with displeasure. ‘Be that as it may—’

‘So the Vale is no safer for us than anywhere else, I’d say.’

Will jumped in. ‘Gwydion’s right. It’s more dangerous for you to be here.’

‘Well, maybe there’s another thing that you should know,’ she said stubbornly. ‘You can thank Master Gwydion for his advice. But I’d say it’s my duty to go with my man and help him in whatever business he’s upon. That’s what I undertook to do at our handfasting, and that’s what I’m going to do. And as for Bethe, babies are a lot tougher than folk generally give them credit for. She’ll want for nothing on the road.’

At that there was silence. Then Gwydion laid both hands flat on the table. ‘It is right and proper that we have all been able to say our say tonight, but it is getting late now. Let us go to our beds and settle the matter tomorrow.’

When they emerged from the snug the dancing and music and eating and drinking were all finished. The inn’s big room was quiet and half in darkness. Will took Willow and Bethe upstairs and saw they were comfortable, then he went out through the darkened yard, down the lane, over a stile and into a grassy field in which an old oak grew. Overhead the stars of late summer twinkled. He asked them to tell him what to do for the best, but they only gazed down in pitiless silence.

The stars don’t know what to do, he told himself sternly. They’re just holes in the sky, holes seventeen hundred leagues away. You’ll have to answer questions like that yourself, Willand, as hard as they are.

Whatever happened tomorrow, it was going to be an eventful day. It would be wise to meet it fully prepared. He did not know why, but he took the red fish from around his neck and put it back into his pouch. Then he found a place that felt right, stood straight, his feet a little apart and his arms loose at his sides. When he felt the time had come to begin, he closed his eyes and breathed three deep draughts of air, drawing them in through his nose and blowing them out each time from his mouth. Then he planted his feet hard in the good earth and invited the power to fill him.

First it trembled in the soles of his feet, an irresistible force rising through his legs, then up through his body. He felt the tingling rush over his ribs and all the way up his spine. It surrounded his heart, and there split into three streams. Slowly, he raised his arms until they were as far apart as they would go. The power kept rising inside him until it reached his hands and it seemed to Will that a pale blue light that only he could see had begun shooting out from the tips of his splayed fingers. But it was when the power reached his head that he was hit by an overwhelming feeling of joy and peace.

He felt he was inside a great cold flame, and even though his eyes were closed he could sense a brilliant light filling him. As he accepted it, it grew brighter and stronger, blotting out everything, so that in that ultimate timeless moment he forgot who and what he was.

But then, gradually, the light began to draw back inside him. He did not mind that it was dimming for he knew that, although he could no longer see it, the power had not forsaken him. It was wonderful how that moment seemed to last forever and yet to take no longer than a brief moment. Wholly refreshed in spirit, he went back inside, feeling content and happy to be with his family despite everything.

Will did not know what woke him. At first he thought it was Bethe’s crying, but as he lay still in the darkness the echoes died in his mind and he heard only Willow’s breathing and what he thought must be the furtive rustling of mice in the thatch.

But then, as he came fully awake, he felt pins and needles tingling in the nape of his neck, and he sat up when a scratching and scrabbling came at the shutters.

That’s no mouse, he thought. It’s far too big. Someone’s trying to get in!

He was about to shout out, but he stopped himself. A shout would wake everyone, but it would also drive away whoever was outside.

Silently, he pulled his clothes on, wrapped himself in his cloak to cover his shirt’s whiteness, and crept along the passageway. He moved carefully down the stair, pausing only to take up the balk of wood that barred the door, and went out into the slanting moonlight. No sooner had he stepped outside, than he heard a scream. It was Willow. Then Bethe began to cry.

‘Hoy!’ he shouted as he reached the place below the window. There, up on the thatch and scraping at the shutter, was a goggly.

So they are child-stealers after all, Will thought. It’s after Bethe! But it hasn’t reckoned on the spells of protection that Gwydion’s put on the Plough! That must have been what woke me up.

‘You! Get away from there!’

The thing was fighting to open the shutters, and now it was hissing and scratching like a mad thing, then it slid down a little among the hard moonlight shadows and began to tear at the thatch.