Betrayal - BK 2

  “That’s fantastic, Evie,” said Sarah. We looked at each other and grinned excitedly, still totally awed by this new world we were discovering.

  “What about you?” I asked her. “Have you done anything new?” Last term I had seen Sarah use her earth powers to make a seed spring into life before my eyes and to make the ground shake under our feet.

  “Yes, I think so,” she answered shyly. “Yes, I have.” She searched around in the dim cave, then stooped to pick up a small chunk of rock that lay on the bed of the stream. Holding it cupped in the palm of her hand, Sarah covered the rock with her other hand and frowned with concentration. When she drew her hand away the rock had crumbled into dust.

  “Wow! This proves that last term wasn’t a fluke. Helen, let’s see if we can awaken the Talisman. Let’s do it now, straightaway,” I begged. “At home I tried calling to it and chanting over it and anything else I could think of, but nothing happened. But here in Wyldcliffe, in Agnes’s home, it might respond, if we all work together.”

  “I’ve got a feeling you have to do this on your own, Evie,” Helen replied. “Didn’t Lady Agnes say in her journal that she was leaving the Talisman to you? That she was sealing her powers in the necklace so that they would be guarded for you to use? I’m not sure if she meant us to be part of that.”

  “But we could try anyway, couldn’t we?” said Sarah.

  “Well, we’ve nothing to lose. Let’s try.” Helen gave me an encouraging smile and took some candle ends from the niche in the rock and arranged them on the ground. As she lit each one, she chanted, “May this light guide our steps, may it illuminate our minds, may it cleanse our hearts….”

  At last the candles were burning in a ring of quivering flames. A thrill of anticipation ran through me. In the Sacred Circle our powers would be united and magnified; we would be stronger, ready for anything. I stepped inside the ring of fire, undid the shining necklace, and laid it carefully on the rocky ground. Then Sarah and Helen stepped into the circle and we held hands. Helen began to speak in a low voice: “We call on you, our sisters of wind, earth, and sea. We call upon the fire of life. Bless our circle. Guide us.” Then Sarah began to chant softly, “The air of our breath, the water of our veins, the clay of our bodies…”

  We raised our arms to the moon and the stars, which wheeled above us unseen.

  “Sacred Powers,” I called. “Permit me to use the gift that our sister Agnes bequeathed to me. Let me know its strength; let me understand its secrets. Open the Talisman to me, I beseech you.” Then I knelt down and placed my hand over the crystal at the heart of the Talisman. A silver-blue light flared out from the jewel as I touched it, making the mosaics spring to life with a thousand reflections. My heart began to race. “Water of life, I call on your powers to open this path to me. Agnes, Sebastian, help me….”

  I tried to focus my mind on the great and boundless ocean, as deep as my love, as wild as my dreams, as powerful as my enemies. I heard the sigh and roar of the waves. I heard Sarah and Helen chanting and I joined in, summoning my secret self as I had when I had raised the lake from its quiet bed: “I think, I feel, I desire…I command the Talisman to hear my call…. Mystic Powers, come to our aid…help us now….”

  But the light from the crystal died away and nothing happened.

  Reality.

  The Talisman remained beautiful and lifeless in my hand. The moment had passed.

  “It’s no good.” I sighed. “This isn’t going to work.”

  I fastened the necklace around my neck again and stepped out of the circle. Helen blew out the candles on the ground. The grotto looked like a dank cave, not a place of wonder. All my excitement had evaporated.

  “I’m sorry, Evie,” said Helen said quietly. “But somehow I never felt it would be as easy as that.”

  “What are we going to do?” asked Sarah. “Every day, every hour and second is precious. We have to make some kind of progress.”

  “Perhaps that’s the problem.” A thought had struck me. “Maybe we haven’t progressed far enough in the Mystic Way. When Agnes made the Talisman, she was at the height of her powers. I know Helen has been in tune with her gifts for a lot longer than we have, but you and me, Sarah—well, aren’t we really just beginners? Perhaps I need to develop my powers more so that I have the same power over water as Agnes had over fire. She had all sorts of amazing abilities. Won’t I need the same?”

  Sarah seemed struck by what I had said. “It seems to make sense. But we’ve so little time—”

  “Then we’ll practice as much as we can,” I interrupted. “We can come here every night if necessary, or find somewhere in the school where we won’t be seen. What do you think? Is it worth trying?”

  Helen and Sarah placed their hands over mine, as though they were taking an oath. “We won’t stop until the Talisman opens itself to you, Evie. We’ll make this happen; we promise.”

  And we didn’t stop. The first week at Wyldcliffe went past in a blur as I threw myself into my studies, by both day and night. I was buzzing with adrenaline, hungry to learn, and it didn’t seem to matter what. Whether I was in the grotto turning water into silver mist, or drawing liquid essences from the stones of the cave, or hunched in the cold classrooms studying Latin verbs or chemical reactions, I was on fire. Knowledge was power, I kept telling myself, and it seemed to me that the knowledge I sought might lie anywhere: in an obscure bit of poetry, in a scientific formula, or in an ancient spell. This term I was going to be at the top of every class and ahead of every idea.

  All that week the snow lay around the Abbey, white and blank and cold. Any lingering hope that Sebastian would contact me had withered like a green shoot in the bitter frost. But I refused to despair. I was young and strong, I would outwit the coven; I would find Sebastian; I would soon know every secret of the Mystic Way.

  Wherever there was darkness, I would bring light, and that light would never be overwhelmed.

  Eleven

  FROM THE PRIVATE PAPERS OF SEBASTIAN JAMES FAIRFAX

  It is so dark here, Evie.

  I light a candle but it does not seem to ease the darkness of my mind.

  I said I would be patient and wait without complaint, but it is so hard, when every hour, every minute drains me of strength.

  Have you forgotten me?

  I should not blame you if you have. I have nothing to offer you. My powers are fading. I am a prisoner. I am trapped.

  At times a faint gray gleam peeps through the cracks and crannies of this dusty room, and I guess that somewhere there is light and freedom. But that has nothing to do with me now. I have forgotten the outside world. I have forgotten yesterday. Only the old memories remain.

  I remember the gray-haired parson at Wyldcliffe Church, when the world was younger and I was innocent of its dangers. What was that he said? “I go whence I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death…where the light is as darkness.” It seems an eternity since I sat in the little stone church in the village, watching the sparks of dust dance in a shaft of sunlight, trying not to yawn as the parson droned on, whilst Agnes shook her head reprovingly at me, half frowning, half laughing.

  If only I had not been so proud and stubborn all those years ago! If only I had listened to Agnes, and never meddled with forbidden knowledge! I have been so blind and crazy, from the beginning—

  And yet, if I had not traveled this road I would have lived my life and died and passed from this world before you were ever born. I would never have met you, never have heard your voice, or touched your hand, or felt your lips on mine. That would have been the worst punishment of all.

  There is something I must tell you.

  I must warn you.

  They are coming closer—

  Oh, Evie, such fear! I see their pitiless, undead faces. I see their king, his iron crown flickering with red flames, as he reaches out to me with his fist of steel, pulling me closer into his trap. I hear the howling and gibbering of demons and I fe
el myself fading into that endless night—

  Yet I will face this horror with open eyes rather than hurt one single strand of your bright hair.

  They tried to make me betray you once before, but they couldn’t. They shall never succeed. I may become a creature of darkness, but I will never, ever forget that I love you.

  Twelve

  I couldn’t forget Sebastian, not for a single moment. He was in my thoughts and dreams and in the very air I breathed. Sometimes I seemed to feel the touch of his hand on mine, or hear the echo of his voice in Wyldcliffe’s gloomy corridors. Part of me just wanted to skip my classes and go looking for him out on the moors, but I knew it would be a hopeless task. He could be anywhere, concealed by the remnants of his powers. But no, I had to stick to my plan to open the talisman. Once I could do that, I was sure it would lead me to him. I had to work without thinking, and the image of him, pale and sick and suffering, kept me going through the long hours of effort and study.

  On Saturday afternoon, after lessons had finished for the day, I picked my way down the snow-covered path from the stables, where I had been helping Sarah with her ponies. Checking that no one was watching, I summoned a surge of my thought and gave a flick of my wrist. A drift of snow in a flower bed melted instantly, revealing tight young spikes of green struggling up through the earth. A fierce wave of joy shot through me, then died away. I had proved that I had power over water, but how was I supposed to use it? Was this getting me closer to the heart of the Talisman?

  “Isn’t it c-cold?”

  I looked around, startled. Harriet was stumbling down the path toward me. I hoped furiously that she hadn’t seen anything. Since our ride on the train together she had latched onto me and seemed ready to bump into me at every corner, waiting to ask me something: “Evie, do you know where I can get a new notebook?” “Evie, how do I ask about joining the choir?” “Evie, can you help me with my math assignment?”

  “What are you doing out here?” I asked. Her nose was tipped with pink and her teeth were chattering. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

  She shrugged. “Classes are over and I’ve nothing to do.”

  “Well, why don’t you go and sit inside with your friends?”

  Harriet looked awkward and said in a tight little voice, “I haven’t really made any friends yet.”

  I felt sorry for her, but I simply didn’t have time for this.

  “Well, you won’t make any friends wandering about on your own,” I said briskly. “Some of the younger girls do arts and crafts in the dining hall on Saturday afternoons. Why don’t you go and join them?”

  “I’d rather talk to you.”

  “Don’t be silly. You need to be with girls in your own form.” I shooed her away as kindly as I could. “Off you go, Harriet. And next time you come outside at least put your scarf and gloves on!”

  I watched her go, then hurried to join Helen in the main entrance hall. Quickly forgetting about Harriet, I stood for a moment warming myself at the fire that was burning low in the stone hearth. Helen had already started our Saturday chore of arranging hothouse flowers in the great bronze vase that stood on the table in the entrance hall—another dumb scholarship duty. The rich blooms contrasted with her gossamer hair, and even in her drab school clothes she looked like a wild young goddess surrounded by ivy and lilies and roses.

  The art teacher, Miss Hetherington, walked across the hallway, carrying a pile of sketchbooks.

  “Lovely flowers, girls,” she said approvingly. “We need some color in the middle of all this snow.” For a moment I could imagine that I was in a regular school, where the teachers really were just teachers, and not women to be feared. But this was Wyldcliffe, where no one could be trusted. “I’m glad you’re here, Evie,” Miss Hetherington went on. “I was looking for you. This note was left by mistake with the staff mail. It’s addressed to you.” She handed me a small envelope and walked away. Suddenly apprehensive, I tore the note open.

  HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR FIRST WEEK.

  IT WILL BE YOUR LAST.

  “It’s another one,” I said, handing it to Helen. “Another threat.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “There’s nothing I can do. Just keep going. Try harder. Work quicker. What else can I do?”

  And so that night I slipped out of bed once more and crept down the servants’ staircase and into the yard. On the far side of the Abbey’s sweeping lawns, dense thickets of snow-covered shrubs concealed a mound of rocks. I pushed my way through the tangled undergrowth and twisted under an overhanging branch. The dark mouth of the grotto gaped like a secret tomb. I stepped inside and the steady beam from my flashlight met an answering gleam of candlelight. Sarah and Helen were already there, marking a circle on the damp, rocky ground.

  While they were busy I stood by the statue, watching where the stream bubbled around its base, welling up from some underground source. The water flowed through a narrow channel in the cave floor, then disappeared again into some kind of cleverly hidden drainage culvert. Water…it had to hold the answer somehow…water, endless movement, source of all life. On an impulse, I knelt down and unfastened the Talisman and laid it in the icy stream. Its crystal heart shone deeply, glistening in the water like a bright eye. I felt Helen and Sarah watching me, and the gleaming shapes on the wall seemed to watch too; nymphs and centaurs and fauns and fantastical beasts, everyone was watching and waiting. I scooped up the water in my hands and let it fall back down in blessing, then leaned over the jewel in the stream.

  “Speak to me now,” I begged. “Show me the way.” It seemed to glitter like a precious treasure tossed onto a piece of wasteland; then it grew dim and I saw instead my reflection in the running water. But it wasn’t me; it was Agnes, looking up at me. She was going to tell me something…. She seemed to have a message for me in her gray eyes…. Evie, follow my path…. They are getting closer…. Evie…Evie…

  “Evie!” Sarah was shaking me, dragging me back to the present moment.

  “What is it?”

  “I feel something…. Listen.” Sarah silently crept over to the farthest depths of the little cave, where a projection in the rock wall concealed the mouth of a tunnel. We had used the tunnel to escape from the crypt under the chapel at the end of last term. She stretched her hands against the rough walls, a look of intense concentration on her face, as though she were listening through her fingertips.

  “Can you hear that?” she said softly, but I shook my head. I could hear nothing except my own heart hammering away and the trickle of the icy stream. I picked the Talisman out of the water, half-annoyed with Sarah for disturbing me. Agnes had been trying to tell me something. To follow her…Well, I was trying to do that. What else? Something about someone coming closer…

  “They’re getting closer!” Sarah spun around, panic gleaming in her eyes. “The Dark Sisters! They are gathered down in the crypt. I can hear their voices through the rock and earth of the tunnel; I can feel the tread of their feet. They’re coming this way!”

  “Get back to the school!” I cried. “Helen, you get out of here in your own way. We’ll hold them off and get back through the gardens. Hurry!”

  Helen hesitated. “I can’t leave you here.”

  “You must! Go!”

  The next moment, Helen seemed to pull the air around her like a thick cloak, and she disappeared. Sarah spoke under her breath and made signs over the mouth of the tunnel. It began to cave in, and rocks tumbled heavily to block the entrance. “Get back, Evie,” Sarah shouted. “Let’s go!”

  We blew out the candles and I followed Sarah as she led us unerringly out of the lightless cavern. I could hear the water swirling around the statue behind us, and now I thought I heard the echo of pounding feet as the Dark Sisters made their way up the long, twisting tunnels from the crypt to the grotto. But they wouldn’t be able to get through, at least not straightaway. Sarah had given us a chance to escape.

  The next moment we were outside, s
crambling through the undergrowth of the shrubbery and heading for the school. We ran across the lawns, trying to stay under the cover of the weeping willows that bordered them. The ruins looked like fantastical silhouettes against the snow, but we didn’t stop to admire them. We raced to the stable yard, where the old green door would lead us back into the servants’ quarters. Panting, we pushed the door open, then stopped for breath.

  “The coven must be meeting,” I said with a gasp.

  “But I wonder why they were moving from the crypt up to the grotto? It’s not going to be safe now if they are trampling all over it.”

  I knew why the coven was on the move. “They must have known we were meeting down there.”

  “How?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows who is spying on us for them? Or perhaps they can sense the Talisman, get drawn to it somehow. And that note I got, it must have been meant for an attack tonight.” I should have been afraid, but I wasn’t. I suddenly began to laugh softly. “Whoever wrote it is going to be disappointed. They won’t get rid of me that easily. You were too clever for them, Sarah. They’ll never catch us.”

  “I still don’t want to be found out of bed by Miss Scratton, though. Come on. Helen should be safe in your dorm by now. Let’s get back as quickly as we can.”

  I switched on my flashlight and we padded swiftly down the dusty passages, then crept up the back stairs to the third floor. “You go first,” I said. “I’ll give you ten minutes to get to your dorm; then I’ll go to mine. We don’t want to be seen together. If you bump into one of the staff you can say you had to go to the bathroom, and I’ll do the same.”

  Sarah slipped out into the main corridor and shut the door softly behind her. I had once panicked here, last term, when I had been trapped on the deserted stairs, but now I hoped I was braver. I tried to pass the time by imagining the lives of the young servants who had actually used these steps, running up and down to do their chores when Agnes was alive. Hadn’t she mentioned them in her journal? I was trying to remember their names when something caught my eye.