3

Her hand touched damp grass. She flinched and drew it back but then was toppling forward. She reached out to break her fall and rested her hand on the turf. She was crouching. Her eyelids were squeezed shut waiting for the jumping spots of light in her eyes to fade. Dizziness filled her head. It took a few moments before she felt confident about opening her eyes again. When she did, when the orange flashes on her eyelids had faded, she found it was dark again, but she was not in her bedroom. Her bare feet and hands rested on cool, damp grass. Her heart hammered in her chest. What had happened to her? Was she dreaming or was this some sort of mental attack?

Slowly she straightened her legs and stood up, gazing around in wonder. Although it was night the full Moon provided ample light for her to examine her surroundings. She was standing on a low ridge. In front of her, a meadow sloped gently down to a broad, tree-lined river that gleamed like mercury in the light of the Moon. Beyond the river there seemed to be cultivated fields among woodland and a dark shadow speckled by starlight, a lake. Turning her head she saw behind her that the grassy hillside fell away steeply to the edge of another wood which receded into darkness. September looked to her right. The ridge reached up to the brow of the hill where there was a small stand of tall, broadleaved trees.

She knew this place. It appeared in her dreams; dreams which had been recurring frequently of late. But now September was sure she was not dreaming. In her dreams there had been a hazy quality to the view. Now it was crystal clear. Previously she had been unaware of her other senses but now she felt the ground beneath her feet, the smell of grass filled her nose and the light, warm breeze ruffled her gown and hair. Her gown and hair? She looked down and saw that the long T-shirt she wore to bed no longer covered her, but instead she was clothed in an ankle length white linen robe with long loose sleeves. Her hair had changed too. Long waves, rippling over her shoulders like Mother’s, had replaced her short bob. Now that she examined herself she felt different. She had been aware of the changes in her body since her periods had started, had despaired of getting rid of what Father called her puppy-fat, but now her body seemed harder, tuned, more mature; even her breasts felt larger – what did it mean? She barely had folds of flab but these were really rounded and firm. She must be dreaming to have acquired the body she desired.

The glass pebble was still gripped in her left hand. She looked at it. It too had changed. It was no longer dull and opaque but clear and it sparkled with its own internal lights like tiny stars. It was warm too, a warmth that seemed to come from within it.

What has happened to me? Am I really here, wherever here is? September had no answer to her questions but she knew where she had to go. She turned to face right and began walking up the ridge towards the copse at the top of the hill. In her dreams, that was where ‘they’ had been, although she had no idea who ‘they’ were or whether they could help her.

She was not used to walking outdoors in bare feet but her feet seemed accustomed to it. The moon provided sufficient light for her to feel confident of finding her steps. It was quite a walk to the brow of the hill. She knew that she would soon be puffing and sweating if she had done this walk normally even on a typical early Autumn night. Here the air was comfortably cool and although she felt the climb in her leg muscles her lungs barely felt the strain. She felt fit, not a feeling she was accustomed to. Was that a sign that this was still a dream?

As she neared the stand of trees at the summit she caught glimpses of movement between the trunks, flickers of white-garbed figures processing. As she approached she noticed that the trees were not arranged randomly as in a wild wood but in concentric circles as close together as their outstretched branches would allow. When she reached the outer ring she saw that there was an avenue leading to the centre of the copse. Not far away she could see light, a fire burning and flashes of white robes and shadows as the figures circled the flames. September ventured towards the light. As the canopy of leaves closed over her she felt vaguely scared at losing the moonlight. Within the circle of trees there was no light except that which beckoned her forward.

The sound of soft tuneful humming broke the night-time silence. The figures hummed in unison as they walked. September reached the inner ring of trees and paused. The sight before her almost made her giggle it seemed so corny: a bunch of druids carrying out some arcane ritual, or a coven of witches and wizards rehearsing their magic spells. A huge, circular stone altar with a fire burning in the middle of it formed the centre of the circle. The humming figures, each dressed in a white robe like hers with hoods pulled over their heads, shuffled slowly around it. Facing her, standing beside the altar, his hands raised to the sky, was a man, dressed the same except that his head was uncovered. He was tall and his hair and his short, neat beard shone gold in the yellow firelight. He saw her standing there and immediately he lowered his arms and beckoned to her. The congregation stopped moving and ceased their chant. Each turned their hooded heads to gaze at September.

“Come, join us, do not be afraid,” the chief druid, as September thought of him, said in a warm, kindly voice. She stood still, nervous of making a move. She had glimpsed this scene in her dreams but never been part of it. “We have been awaiting you and praying for your safe arrival.” Waiting for her? Praying? What did they mean? Why was she special? The man’s voice was, however, welcoming and kindly. September took one step forward, and another.

The circle of druids parted to allow September to approach the altar. The man took her right hand and guided her to his side.

“You were expecting me tonight?” September asked.

“Last night, tomorrow night. We knew you would respond to our summons at some time.”

“Why?”

“Because you are the Cludydd o Maengolauseren.”

“The what?”

“Ah, you do not yet understand the old tongue. You are the bearer of the starstone.”

September held up the glass jewel which glistened and sparkled in the flames of the fire. The people gasped.

“You mean this?”

The man stared at the pebble and nodded.

“But it’s just a piece of glass,” September said, knowing as she spoke that it was not true.

“I do not know of a material that you call ‘glass’,” the man said gently, “it is a piece of the hardest substance known in the world, retrieved from the deepest mine at the dawn of history and fashioned by the power of light to give the Cludydd great power.”

“The hardest substance?” September recalled that phrase. Chemistry wasn’t her best subject, she wasn’t sure what was, but that phrase brought forth a memory of something she had heard in lessons, “You mean, it’s a diamond. It must have been shaped by a laser to make it this smooth. Is that what you mean by the power of light?”

The man looked confused.

“I do not understand the terms of which you speak. No stones like yours are found today, just tiny grains, and none have the fabled power of the stone that you bear. You hold the Carregmam, the mother stone, the oldest and largest and most powerful. For centuries it has been hidden within but beyond this world, but now that we have need of its power it has been recalled and its bearer with it.”

“Me?” September felt weak. The man nodded. “Why is it needed? And who are you?” She was filled with questions which overwhelmed the nervousness that she had felt.

The man smiled at her.

“There are a lot of things to tell you, but I apologise. You have come from afar and we have not welcomed you as we should. Come and sit. Eat and drink and I will begin to tell you what you should know.”

The congregation, which had been watching and listening, now broke up. They threw back their hoods revealing themselves as men and women, young and old, fair and dark. They dispersed as if each knew what they had to do. Some ran to the edge of the clearing where smaller fires burned and returned with bowls and cups filled with steaming liquid. Others ran to bring cushions to lay at the foot of the altar for everyone to sit on. September sank gratefully onto the cushion offered to her, feeling very tired. A cup was placed in her hand. She took a sip and found it to be cool, clear water. Suddenly she was thirsty and she drained the cup. A bowl was offered to her. For a moment she hesitated, wondering what to do with the starstone still gripped in her hand but decided to just drop it into her lap. The young woman proffering the bowl gazed at the stone with something like awe on her face. September took the spoon and bowl which contained some sort of soup. She thanked the woman who nodded her head and backed away still looking at the stone.

September scooped up the thick liquid and touched it to her lips. She wasn’t used to eating in the middle of the night but the aroma of the soup made her feel hungry. It tasted wonderfully of cheese and a variety of vegetables which she couldn’t quite identify. The man wrapped his robe around himself and sat down cross-legged next to her. He smiled at her as she ate and began to speak.

“I am the Mordeyrn. It is my honour and duty to guide these people, to help them live in peace and to sustain them.” His modesty impressed September. It was strange having an older man give her this sort of attention but she felt comfortable sitting alongside him amongst the crowd and was surprised that she felt at ease. What is happening to me? she thought. Have I gone barmy, thinking that my dreams have become real? But the warmth and the flavour of the soup certainly seemed real as did the hardness of the stone behind her back. Surely I can’t be imagining all these people slurping from their spoons?

“I’m September,” she said.

“Ah, yes,” the Mordeyrn nodded.

“Who are these men and women and where are we?” September inquired between mouthfuls of soup.

“We are the People and we live in Gwlad, which in the old speech means our Land,”

“Doesn’t it have a name?”

“Why should it? There is nowhere else which we inhabit.”

“But what about this place? It seems pretty special with its rings of trees and this stone altar thing. Do you live here?”

“No, we live in the valley at Amaethaderyn. This is our Cysegr. How should I say it? Our refuge, our shrine.”

“Refuge? Are you being attacked?”

The Mordeyrn frowned. September sensed a great sadness in him.

“Not seriously, but the forces of darkness are growing in strength and soon they will threaten us.” September giggled a little. Mother, in her religious moods, talked of hell and the forces of evil and September knew about the plots of fantasy stories from the way that Gus went on about them. She must be dreaming and drawing together the images she had seen in Gus’ books and magazines and the films he watched on their one TV.

“I suppose there is a Dark Lord out to enslave you,” September said cynically. The Mordeyrn looked confused again.

“There is no Dark Lord. Evil has no leader, no organisation. It is Chaos, Disintegration, the breakdown of order. Nevertheless the Adwyth would destroy us all.”

“The ad-oo-eeth?” September struggled with the word.

“The evil that threatens us or the Malevolence as it is commonly called.”

“Oh,” September felt as though she had been silly, “What can you do to stop it then?”

“We are not without power,” the Mordeyrn said rising to his feet. He clapped his hands. All the people got up and began to organise themselves. Some collected the cushions, dishes and cups. Others went to the edge of the clearing while the remainder arranged themselves into curved rows facing the altar. September rose to her feet too, grasping the starstone in her right hand.

The Mordeyrn spoke directly to September but in a voice that all could hear.

“We have the Maengolauseren, the starstone, which is the most powerful guardian of the Land and its people, but we have other gifts won from the rock beneath the Mynydd Tywyll, the dark mountains. Look.” He pointed to a procession of people who approached the altar. Each was carrying an object. The first was a young woman with large eyes and shiny black hair, who walked up to the Mordeyrn and handed him a wooden cup with a small dip of her head as a sign of ritual. The Mordeyrn turned to place the cup on the altar in front of September. The polished cup was filled with a silvery liquid which moved languorously and didn’t wet the sides.

“It looks like a metal but it’s liquid,” September said, struggling to make her brain work, “What is it called?” it was there in her memory she was sure. Suddenly, the answer was there, “ I know, it’s mercury,”

“That is one name for it; Arianbyw has been its name since the dawn of time; quicksilver is another. It has no shape of its own but has the power to shape others, even things made from other metals that are themselves hard and rigid. Those that are expert in its properties can use it to change their form or the form of other things or beings.”

The Mordeyrn’s words meant little to September. She was confused. Was he describing the properties of the liquid metal or the young woman that carried it to the altar? There wasn’t time to say anything because the girl bowed again and moved away. Her place was taken by a grey haired man who carried a dull grey slab the size of a tile. He too nodded and lifted the object up for the Mordeyrn to take. It was obviously heavy because the Mordeyrn’s hands sank as he took it with an answering nod. He placed it on the altar.

“Plwm,” he said, “soft and malleable but so dense that it can absorb energies that attack it. The bearer can shape it to defend himself and his companions from danger.”

“Um, lead, I think,” September recalled seeing the metal in a school lesson but again the description of its properties was beyond her.

A third person, a young man with a jolly smile on his round face arrived carrying a roll of silver coloured foil. Once again the Mordeyrn took it solemnly and placed it on view.

“Alcam,” he said.

“It’s the foil we use in the kitchen, uh, aluminium,” September said, pleased that she had recognised something. She reached out to lift the lump of metal but found it heavier than she expected. Her confidence was dashed, “No, it can’t be, it’s too heavy. I don’t know what it can be.” She found herself struggling to remember all the metals that she had learned about at school.

“Tin,” the Mordeyrn announced, “the great mixer. It hardens and protects other metals. In the hands of a bearer it reinforces and reinvigorates, building confidence and companionship.” September had an image of tins of beans on a supermarket shelf; tin as a metal meant little to her.

A striking blonde woman stepped up to the altar carrying a bell made of a shiny orange metal.

“I know that one,” September said eagerly, “it’s copper, a good conductor.” She was proud of herself; she had remembered something.

The Mordeyrn nodded as he placed the gently tinkling bell on the altar, “Copper yes, Efyddyn. Fashioned into sheets or rods or bells it reflects light, and carries heat and sound. Those who understand its powers use it to communicate across great distances and exchange energy.” Once again September felt flummoxed by the Mordeyrn’s description of properties that sounded like nonsense.

The woman bowed and stepped aside to allow a burly young man to approach. He carried a broadsword. The Mordeyrn took it from him and lifted it with some difficulty on to the altar. The blade was over a metre long and was polished to a silvery-grey lustre. The hilt and handle were a darker dull grey, engraved with spirals and curlicues. The pommel was a polished sphere.

“A sword, that must be made of iron,” September guessed.

“Haearn,” the Mordeyrn nodded emphasising the ‘h’ at the beginning of the word, “strong and hard. In weapons like this great old sword, Aldyth, it gives the Cludydd the strength and skill to fight beasts and warriors more powerful than themselves. In other forms it can move great loads.” September wondered whether he was referring to trucks and ships. They were made from iron weren’t they? The swordsman, for surely the young man was such, withdrew with a deep bow and his place was taken by a noble looking older woman. She bowed and handed a wide silver amulet to the Mordeyrn. He held up the piece of jewellery.

“Arian, the queen of metals,” he proclaimed, “Silver draws its power from Lleuad, the Moon, the nearest of the other worlds. It is the healer and protector of life. The bearers are always women who are held in great esteem amongst the people.”

September looked from the Mordeyrn and the woman to the array of objects on the altar. Six different metals, each according to the tall druid something special, although she had not taken in the various powers that the bearers were said to have. She had noticed something that the Mordeyrn has said about the last metal.

“If silver is linked to the Moon, what about the other metals?”

“A good question, Cludydd,” the Mordeyrn nodded, “Each of the metals draws its power from one of the heavenly bodies. Plwm takes its energy from Sadwrn.”

“Saturn?”

“Yes, Alcam from Iau, Haearn from Mawrth,”

“Hold it,” September held up her hands. Her head was spinning. The Mordeyrn had mentioned the Moon and Saturn but what were these other places? The language meant nothing to her but perhaps he was referring to the other planets. She struggled to recall what they were.

“Um. What’s next to Saturn? That’s Jupiter, I think. Do you mean Iau is Jupiter?” The Mordeyrn nodded. September was excited, she’d remembered the next.

“And Mawrth is Mars.”

The Mordeyrn smiled and continued, “That’s correct and Efyddyn is connected to Gwener and Arianbyw to Mercher.”

“Oh, I don’t know. What are the other planets called?” September appealed for help.

“Venus and Mercury in the common tongue,” the Mordeyrn answered.

“Oh, yes, of course,” September felt silly. The Mordeyrn ignored her grimace of embarrassment and went on.

“Which just leaves the champion of metals and one heavenly body.” Two children approached the altar struggling to carry a plate. It was half a metre in diameter and although thin, was obviously a great weight. In the light of the fires it shone with a bright yellow lustre.

“It’s gold,” September said in amazement. The Mordeyrn took the plate from the two children and raised it above his head to show the congregation before turning to lay it with the other metals on the altar.

“Aur,” he said, “the metal of Haul.” September looked at the gold plate. She had never seen such a large piece of the precious metal. It was embossed with pictures and patterns that she could not take in at a glance. “Incorruptible and unchanging,” the Mordeyrn continued, “the Cludydd o Aur can withstand evil and brings goodness and hope.”

September felt quite overwhelmed with all that she had learned but was bothered. She couldn’t remember a lot of her chemistry but she was sure there were more.

“Just seven metals? What about aluminium, sodium and all the others?”

It was the Mordeyrn’s turn to look confused.

“I do not understand,” he said.

“There are lots of other metals so my teachers tell me, and what about the other planets, um, what are they called? Uranus, Neptune.”

The Mordeyrn shook his head, “These names are unknown to me. The seven astronomical bodies circle Daear in their orbits and share their powers with the metals that we win from the rocks.

“Daear?”

“Here, this world.”

“You mean Earth.”

“So it is also named.”

“They all orbit the Earth, the Sun included?”

“That is correct.”

September was quite sure that idea had gone a few hundred years ago. Wasn’t there a guy called Galileo who said it was different. “Are you sure?”

The Mordeyrn smiled, “It is well known. When the Cemegwr made the world they fixed Daear at the centre and all else revolves around us. The evil of which I have spoken comes to us from beyond the sphere of stars.”

September frowned, “Who are these Cemegwr?”

“The Makers of everything, the Creators of all that there is.

“You mean God?”

“What is god? At the beginning of time the Cemegwr fashioned Daear and the seven planets; they are the Providers of the seven metals that we find in the rocks of the Mynydd Tywyll.”

“Seven metals and seven things in space. Seven days in a week. Seven keeps on cropping up.”

“That is true. The number seven carries great importance in our world. That is why the Cludydd o Maengolauseren is always the seventh child.”

“Hold on. The Clud... whatever, is what you called me.”

“Yes, my child.”

“But I’m only the sixth child. My mother had my sisters, April first, then May, June, and Julie, then Gus, and finally me. That’s six of us.”

The Mordeyrn shrugged, “The Maengolauseren always finds the seventh child. You must have six siblings, not five. But the night draws on and soon we will lose the light of the Moon. It is time the people returned to their homes, and you too. The time when the power of the Maengolauseren will be needed is not yet come, although I fear it will not be long. The connection has been made so you should return to your home until the starstone carries you here again.”

September looked around. The congregation was starting to disperse, collecting together cushions and cups and the other things. September’s head was in a whirl. She had barely followed all that she had seen and heard. What did he mean by saying she must be the seventh not sixth child? She recalled something about evil from beyond the stars, and a task for her and the stone that she still held in her hand, but the man, the leader of these people was saying she could go home. How? Where was home? How did they expect her to help them? Her! Silly, fat September. Except she wasn’t fat – not here. She felt fit and full of energy. She wanted this dream to go on.

The six bearers approached the altar to reclaim their objects. The older woman who collected the silver amulet slipped it on to her arm and came to stand at the Mordeyrn’s side. September noticed she was carrying something, another silver object. She held it out to September.

“You will find this useful,” she said. September saw that it was a locket on a chain. The locket was about the size of her starstone. The woman pressed on the edge of the locket. The front and back covers sprang back and the top of the case hinged open.

“Place the stone inside,” the Mordeyrn said as the woman presented the locket to her. September carefully inserted the starstone within the silver frame. The woman closed the case up without touching the stone and handed it to her.

“There, now you can keep it with you. The silver will protect you from all ills.”

September placed the chain around her neck. The locket hung between her breasts. She was not used to wearing such a heavy pendant; its weight tugged on her.

“This is for me to keep?”

“It is yours as much as you belong to the starstone. Your futures are as one and when you return to us you will soon learn to control the powers of the stone.”

“So I will see you again, Mordeyrn?”

“I hope so, my dear. Your presence will be of great assistance to us in our time of trial and the starstone will certainly draw you to us.”

There was a great shouting from the edge of the throng that travelled with increasing volume towards them.

“Draig tân!”

“A comet comes!”

“The fiery dragon!”

The people huddled together, retreating from the circle of trees until they were pressed against the altar, but they took care to leave space around September and the Mordeyrn. The Mordeyrn lifted the gold plate and stepped away from the altar. He strode through the people and between the avenue of trees.

“Wait, Mordeyrn!” September called, trying to run after him but finding the long gown tripping her. She caught him as he reached the outer ring of trees. A wind had blown up and the branches of the trees creaked and leaves rustled. Her hair was blown back and the cloth of her robe pressed to her body.

“Comets don’t hurt people,” she said.

“In your world, perhaps,” he pointed to the northern sky. September looked along his outstretched finger. Sure enough there was a comet clearly visible in the night sky, a bright spot and a white curved tail.

September stared – the comet was moving. “Comets don’t move that fast do they. Don’t they go round the Sun?”

“No, they are born of the evil beyond the sphere of stars and come into existence beneath the orbit of the Moon.”

September was even more confused. This sounded like the ravings of a madman. But her eyes did not deceive her. She was seeing a comet approach.

“But surely it can’t harm us?”

“Comets bring fire, famine and pestilence. They are a manifestation of evil. I must protect my people.” The Mordeyrn stepped forward holding the golden plate aloft facing towards the comet. His arms shook with the weight of the gold. He began mumbling words that September could not understand. Still the comet approached, its tail now spread across half the northern sky and its head growing to become a ball of fire. She was mystified. What she was seeing was like nothing she had heard about, but then she had another surprise.

The golden plate began to glow in the Mordeyrn’s up-stretched arms. A beam of yellow light groped out from the plate in the direction of the comet, but faded quickly in the distance. September could see that the Mordeyrn was straining with all his might to hold the plate up and give it power. Veins stood out on his forehead and sweat ran down his cheeks but it was to no avail. The glow from the plate slowly faded. The comet was closer now and obviously coming straight towards them. The head of the comet was as big as the Sun appeared to be, growing still, and its tail obscured the distant hills and forests.

“It’s no good,” the Mordeyrn sighed, lowering his arms, “without the Sun in the sky I do not have sufficient power.” He took a few deep breaths. “Unless, you September, the Cludydd, you could help.”

“What can I do?” September asked.

“The starstone. It gathers power from the stars and all the heavenly bodies. Direct the moonlight on to the plate of gold. It will boost my power. Hold the stone aloft. Open the locket.” Once again he held the plate over his head directed at the growing threat of the comet.

September had no idea what he was expecting of her but she lifted the silver locket from her breast and opened the front and back cover. She looked at the stone. It was dark and clear. She looked to her left; the full Moon was sinking towards the horizon where the river flowed through the woods. September held the stone between her finger and thumb and tried to line it up between the Moon and the gold plate. The wind was a gale now and the approaching comet had grown huge. She was scared. Fear made her sweat and tremble and her hand holding the stone shook. The birthmark on her hip itched and she wanted to rub it but she had to concentrate on her task. It was difficult to judge the correct position but she must have succeeded because a shaft of blue light burst from the stone and onto the gold plate. She flinched and moved the stone. The beam of light faded.

“That’s it,” the Mordeyrn cried out, “Again! Hold it steady!” The comet was even larger, flames flickering around its circumference.

September wanted to do what she was told. She raised her hand again, struggling to find the right angle. A beam of blue-white light shone from the stone to the golden plate. At once the plate glowed with an intense yellow light which sprang out towards the head of the comet. September felt a tingle, like an electric current, in her hand holding the starstone. The tingle passed up her arm and into her body. It grew in intensity like a cramp locking her muscles. The birthmark burned. She held firm and the beam of light from the plate groped further towards the comet which now seemed very close and immense. Now it did seem like a great roaring dragon spewing fire with its glowing tail spread across the sky. September felt afraid. What might happen when the comet, or dragon, reached them? It was coming straight at them and already she could feel the heat of its breath. What if it fell on their heads? It grew till it seemed to September to be covering half the sky. She was locked in position, too scared to attempt to move, her hip a fiery agony, but the blue light from her stone grew in intensity.

The Mordeyrn roared out, “Ymadaelwch!”

The golden beam reached the comet. A black spot appeared where the beam touched it. The spot grew then there was a huge explosion of light and a roar like thunder tore the sky. The head of the comet broke into gobbets of fire that scattered in all directions. September thought that they were going to fall all around them. Then all the flames were gone. The Mordeyrn’s plate ceased its glow and the gleam disappeared from September’s stone. The sky was dark again except for the twinkling light of the stars and the Moon sinking towards the horizon.

The Mordeyrn lowered his arms with a relieved groan and sank to the ground cradling the plate. September found she could move again but her whole body ached as if she had been on a long run. The pain in her hip receded to a dull throb. She shivered as if she was icy cold although the air was warm. She fumbled with the locket enclosing the starstone and let it drop to her chest, taking a deep breath as if she hadn’t been breathing at all.

The people came out of the copse, cheering and whooping with joy. They gathered around her and the Mordeyrn expressing their thanks.

The Mordeyrn struggled to his feet and faced her.

“Surely you are a worthy Cludydd o Maengolauseren. No one else could have given me the power to destroy that evil.”

September wrapped her arms around herself still trembling and bemused. What had she seen? Surely that was not a real comet or even a meteor. What had she done?

“Where did it go?” she asked, “What happened?”

“That was surely a most powerful Draig tân but with the help of the power of the Moon and stars, my energy as Cludydd o Aur was sufficient to dissipate the evil and save us from its malevolent influence. But I could not have done it without you even though you are untrained in the handling of the Maengolauseren. I am sure you will prove to be a most powerful bearer.” He glanced to the west. The Moon was touching the horizon. “But now my child, you must go.”

“But if you are already being attacked, surely I must stay.” September was not sure that she wanted to stay, she felt drained of energy and scared and didn’t know what was expected of her but it seemed she was needed. That was an unusual feeling. It felt strange having the people cheering her and while she understood few of the Mordeyrn’s words he was thanking her. She did not want to leave now; she wanted to relish this feeling of success for a bit longer.

“Comets are not unknown even when the Adwyth is not growing, but that was a most powerful example. Your arrival may have triggered a response from the Evil.”

“So my coming brings evil with it.” September was despondent. There had to be a downside.

“All actions have a reaction, my child. Some say the destructive evil of the Malevolence is just a response to the creativity of the Cemegwr. I do not know, but the Draig tân are just one of the horrors that await us. Your time has not yet come. You must continue your growth and when the starstone is ready you will return. The good you will bring will outweigh any response from the Adwyth. Now go to your own world with all our love and thanks.”

“How? How do I get home?”

“The same way in which you came.”

September tried to remember what she had done before she had found herself in this place.

“I just looked at the Moon and stars through the stone.”

“That is it then. Do it.”

Again, September took the locket in her hand, undid the clasp holding the covers and held the stone up to her eyes. The people standing amongst the trees behind began a chant that warmed and encouraged her. She looked at the people, men, women, young and old, children, all looking at her with faces that showed love, admiration, hope. She turned away, held the stone up and looked through it. She scanned the western sky for the Moon. The silver orb moved into view through the stone. For a moment she saw it clear and bright sitting on the horizon with a semi-circle of brilliant stars around it.

Blue-white light bathed her, dazzling her. She closed her eyes as the wave of light rolled over her, her ears catching cries of “Farewell Cludydd!” and “Praise to the Cemegwr!”.

She knew she was back home by the feel of the carpet on her bare feet. September opened her eyes and found that she was standing once again at her desk facing her dark window. The Moon was as it had been, just above the rooftops. She felt dizzy for a moment and rested both hands on the desk. Her eyes fell on her alarm clock. Apparently no more than a few moments had passed since Mother had called to say good night. Perhaps I’ve been dreaming, and sleepwalking, she thought. She stood up straight and felt a weight press between her breasts. She reached for it. In the moonlight she could see it was the silver locket. She gasped; it was true, it had happened. She undid the case and looked at the stone. It was dull and cloudy; no more than a piece of old glass. And yet the locket proved it to be more.

September closed the locket up and took the chain from around her neck. She placed the stone in the bottom drawer of her desk under some papers. As she straightened up she felt her body. She was back to as she had always been. The delightful tautness of her body in the Land was replaced by the soft roll of fat around her middle and the weak, flabby muscles in her arms and legs. A sigh escaped her and she climbed onto the bunk and beneath the duvet. She laid her head on the pillow feeling exhausted, hoping sleep would come, but instead her head was filled with many mysterious images.