Shaman of Stonewylde Read Online Free Page A

there, murmuring quietly amongst themselves. At a nod from Yul, the drummers ranged around the perimeter began a low, insistent beat that bounced off the huge stones and filled the air. The atmosphere began to change, charging with energy that grew by the minute, amplifying throughout the vast circle and weaving in and around all the people. The amazing pattern of leaping hares painted above their heads on every stone, formed a carousel that seemed to spin with the sound until the hares were alive and dancing. The beautiful goddess of spring painted on the stone behind the altar, an egg in each hand, smiled down on the folk of Stonewylde as they stood, swaying and nodding to the ever growing beat. Hearts thudded in unison with the deep reverberation of the drums, feet tapped in time, heads bobbed and souls synchronised until everyone present became attuned to the common purpose of welcoming in the Spring Equinox.
    A large group of singers stood near the entrance, their voices joined in harmonious chant – which raised the energy still further . Yul’s eyes scanned the crowds and he was glad he’d insisted that most of the chanting was now performed by a choir rather than remain his responsibility. They’d been practising since Imbolc and would now do this at every ceremony, leaving him only to contribute the odd verse or two. He hoped this would help him focus on what really mattered – the Green Magic.
    Yul climbed up onto the Altar Stone, closed his eyes and concentrated hard. The drumbeats throbbed in and around him and the life force of the folk packed into the arena shimmered. He tried, with all his might, to call up the earth energy that snaked underneath the soft earth floor of the ancient Stone Circle. He remembered lying here paralysed that Samhain, unable to move an eyelash but able to summon the energy to him. And now . . . he felt a flicker, a glimmer, but it wasn’t enough. He knew with a sinking heart that at the moment of sunrise, when the force should gather like a great dragon and pour up through the Altar Stone into his human frame – it would be merely a small, insignificant pulse.
    He opened his eyes and looked straight into the eyes of the crow, perched unmoving on top of the stone. Just at the moment when the drumming stopped and the singers fell silent, the corvid opened its black beak and let out a mighty ‘
CAW
’. People jumped and many made the sign of the pentangle; Yul scowled at the bird’s inconsiderate timing but wondered if Mother Heggy were sending him a message. He scanned the moving lake of faces before him and noted with annoyance that two figures were hurrying down the Long Walk, late for the ceremony. One tall and one small – Clip and Leveret. They stood right by the mouth of the circle and Yul saw them both noting the crow standing sentinel. Sylvie frowned up at him and he realised he’d missed his cue for the chant. He scowled again and cleared his throat. The light was growing by the second and as the words began to fall from his lips, the sun appeared in the gap between the two stones where it rose every Spring Equinox.
    Yul saw the bright golden sliver above the skyline and his soul cried out to it, cried out to the Goddess beneath him, begged for the gift of Green Magic to once more bless him. He felt a dart of energy fly up from the great stone under his feet, piercing him in pallid imitation of the massive thrust he used to feel. But, nevertheless, tears of gratitude welled and Yul raised his hands towards the fast-rising sun, the words now tumbling in a torrent of praise. It wasn’t much – it wasn’t enough – but it was something at least. The Goddess hadn’t completely abandoned him.
    During the communion part of the ceremony, when the Stonewylders came up to the Altar Stone to receive their cake and tot of mead, Yul decided not to share the little earth energy he’d been fortunate enough to receive. In the old days he’d been doused with magic and was