Shaman of Stonewylde Read Online Free Page B

happy to pass on a measure to each person in the community. But now, with so little for himself and certainly not enough to give everyone a taste, he realised his best course would be to store it within. He’d use it to put right some of the wrongs that beset Stonewylde.
    The folk began to file up to the head of the circle where the tables were set up around the Altar Stone. One held the tiny cakes baked by Marigold and nowadays entirely free of the extra ingredients once added by Violet. The other was weighed down with casks of mead, again unlaced with the additives that used to bring an added dimension to the proceedings; this was now done only in the wicker dome at Samhain. Very young children were given fruit cordial and everyone present in the huge arena understood the significance of this communion; the fruits bestowed by the Goddess were shared by all. Over the years since Magus’ demise, Yul had enjoyed sharing his own special gift with everyone and they’d now grown to expect the brief touch of magic.
    But today, as people young and old shuffled up to receive their cake and mead, Yul stood back from the Altar Stone and merely greeted them. Instead of reaching out to clasp their hands and release a measure of earth energy, he picked up the ceremonial staff standing by the horizontal stone. He jabbed one end firmly into the soil at his feet and held the other end with both hands, as if channelling the energy back down into the waiting ground. Folk looked surprised, quickly dropping their hands when they realised their magus wasn’t going to touch them. Sylvie’s eyes scanned Yul’s face when she saw what was happening and for an imperceptible moment their gazes met. Neither was fooled by the other’s neutral expression; both knew exactly what the other was thinking.
    The communion had been going on for some time when a group approached the Altar Stone and one in their midst, still hooded against the chill, came forward. She took the cake and ate it, tossed back her thimble of mead and then moved up to where Yul stood, splendid in his green Spring Equinox robes. His headdress for this festival was a wicker wreath woven with dog mercury, primroses and violets. He stood as straight and handsome as ever, the magus of Stonewylde and leader of the community.
    The cowled woman stood before him and stopped, dramatically throwing back her hood to reveal a tangle of dark blonde hair that cascaded down her back. Nobody behind in the great crowd could see her face – but Yul could. His eyes widened and lips parted and in his hands, the staff twitched. Then he smiled and although the renewed drums and singing drowned his voice, he mouthed ‘
Welcome
’ to the woman before him.
    Rainbow’s beautiful sea-blue eyes met his and she gave a little bow. She stood still, holding up those behind her, and stared at him. Her gaze roamed over his face and missed nothing. She took in the hard planes of cheekbone and jaw, the strong nose and firm mouth. She noted the long hair, no different to when she’d last seen Yul as a sixteen year-old youth – a wild mass of dark curls that fell into his eyes. And the eyes; she remembered those so well. They were still deep and slanted, dark grey with long lashes. But now they were hard, no longer shining with hope and passion. There was something steely lurking behind them, something brittle and dulled. And Rainbow was surprised to see they were also somewhat bloodshot.
    Sylvie stared at the woman who seemed to be transfixed by her husband . She felt her cheeks flush but Rainbow barely glanced her way. She’d always known Rainbow would be a beauty; the promise had been there in the thirteen year-old girl all those years ago. What she hadn’t expected was the energy that danced around the younger woman. She exuded an animal aura like a sleek big cat; contained, assured and ready to pounce. Rainbow moved her head deliberately and the angle between her neck and jaw was perfect. Slowly she