Chapter Thirteen

 

Non-edible Rocks

 

 

The doctor at the hospital declared Laurel none the worse for wear, but he insisted on keeping her overnight for observation. Laurel spoke to both her mom and dad on the phone and assured them she was fine. Her dad was all for hopping on the next plane and coming to bring her home. She was surprised herself by refusing. I miss Mom and Dad so much, but I have to stay here and figure out the riddle. We’re so close, and there’s things I’ll miss about Cornwall when I do go home. Coll for one.

The next morning she settled herself in the back seat of Sarie’s car and let Emily tuck a car rug around her. Coll climbed in beside her and handed over a thermos of hot, sweet tea. Soon they were bowling along Glastonbury’s High Street ready to turn to the southwest and head home for Cornwall.

Leaning her head against the window, she watched the countryside flow by. Before too long she closed her eyes; the motion was giving her a huge headache. With her eyes closed, Laurel reviewed the clues, the images forming and re-forming themselves on the insides of her eyelids. The Lady at the spring, Vear Du, Gwin Scawen, Corm—who Coll now insisted was Cormoran, the last resident giant of St. Michael’s Mount—Brother Ioho, the little salamander in Sarie’s fireplace.

They found the lizard as it came out of the sea. That was the ley line of energy known as the Michael Line. It was supposed to point them in the right direction. That led them to visit the Men an Tol, and the knowledge about rocks not being able to be eaten referred to the pile of rocks at the top of Stowes Hill on Bodmin Moor known as the Cheesewring. The Michael line, or the backbone of the lizard, ran right through the pile of stones on Stowe’s Hill and continued northeast through the Tor at Glastonbury. Brother Ioho gave encouragement, but no real new information. He did confirm the Cheesewring is the rocks that can’t be eaten, because that’s what Corm told us about, the giants and St. Tue. Laurel wondered if she should have asked him more questions or maybe different questions. It looks like the Cheesewring is the next place we should go and investigate. I hope Sarie will take us and not be all crazy about what happened in Glastonbury.

She was still a little achy from her roll down the side of the Tor. She knew Coll was rightly impressed by some of her more spectacular bruises. Laurel glanced at Coll from under her lashes; he was looking out the window as the rolling landscape of the Dartmoor Forest flashed by. She touched his arm to get his attention.

“Do you think Sarie will agree to take us to the Cheesewring?” Laurel asked in a voice she hoped wouldn’t carry to the front seat.

“Jeez, I don’t know,” Coll whispered.

“We need to go soon; time’s running out, I just know it.”

“Let’s wait and talk it over with Aisling and Gort. I heard Gramma tell Sarie, Ash and Gort are coming out to the farm this afternoon once we get home.”

She wanted to get Sarie to agree to the trip right here and now but curbed her impatience and leaned back into the cushions of the back seat and closed her eyes. She didn’t release her grasp on his hand, keeping her fingers entwined with his, fighting back a smile at the strange thrill of excitement arcing through her. Behind closed eyes, Laurel planned the trip to the Cheesewring. She wasn’t sure what would happen once she got there, but she knew she needed to go soon. They could take the ponies and camping gear and ride all the way to the Cheesewring. It was a long way though. Maybe Sarie wouldn’t like them to take the ponies so far on their own, especially if Sarie refused to drive them up to Bodmin.

Maybe, they should just ask if they could go pony trek camping and not ask Sarie to drive them first. If Sarie didn’t know where they were going, she couldn’t very well forbid them to go. But Sarie and Emily both said they would help, and Laurel’s conscience pricked her at the thought of deceiving Sarie, especially when Sarie’s beloved ponies were involved. Coll was probably right in saying they should talk it over with Ash and Gort tonight. Aisling was always so smart about seeing the correct way to do something.

Before Laurel realized it, Sarie’s little car bounded up the narrow lane and came to a stop by the cottage. She was grateful she was excused from helping unload the bags. Her bumps and bruises were painful after sitting still for so long.

Laurel hobbled into the kitchen and set about remaking the fire in the huge cook stove. It was fun to cook using the wood-burning cooker. It reminded her of the weekends her family spent at their cabin in the mountains; the smell of the freshly started fire reminded her of Gramma Bella. A thrill of excitement wound through her stomach. Gramma Bella is alive! I’m going to Bragg Creek first thing when I get home.

First things first, she reminded herself. I need to concentrate on the next clue and finish this riddle once and for all.

Soon the car was unloaded, and everything stowed away where it belonged. Coll, ever the chivalrous knight, carried her gear up to her room. The kettle on the cooker just started to boil when Aisling and Gort arrived. Aisling’s dad stuck his head in the door to stay hello and then was gone, off on an errand for Aisling’s mom.

“H-h-holy c-c-cow, wh-wh-what h-happened to you,” Gort exclaimed as he caught sight of her many colored bruises. “You l-l-look like m-m-e after Uncle D-d-daniel’s had one of h-h-his m-m-oods!”

“Wait ‘til you hear.” Coll snorted with laughter at the look on Gort’s face.

“Only you could turn a simple trip to Glastonbury into a right crash up.” Aisling smiled affectionately and settled in the chair beside her.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Laurel protested. “I didn’t plan to fall down the side of the hill!”

“You fell off the Tor?” Aisling was incredulous.

“Kind of,” she said sheepishly.

“In the middle of a great thunderstorm,” Coll broke in.

“It was nice when I went to sleep, but then I woke up, and it was teeming rain and thunder and lightning. I couldn’t find Sarie or anyone. I was trying to get to the tower thing on the top, but I slipped and kind of rolled and bounced down the side of the hill into a bunch of trees. I got lost in the fog and ended up in a swamp. Then I met this old guy who was a monk. His name was Brother Ioho. But this is where it gets weird. He said he lived in the Abbey, and when we walked out of the swamp, I saw the Abbey through the trees. Just before I left him, he opened a gate in a stone wall, and I saw the Abbey again, all in one piece. Afterward, when Sarie found me, the Abbey was all in ruins. But I know what I saw, I wasn’t dreaming. I know I wasn’t.”

“You should have seen her Ash, all covered in mud and burrs and soaking wet,” Coll enthused.

“The doctor said it was the bump on her head made her hallucinate,” Sarie joined in the conversation.

“Did the monk have another clue for you?” Aisling asked quickly.

“In a way.”

“Wh-wh-what did h-h- he say?” Gort prodded.

“He said the time to solve the riddle wasn’t yet, but the Tor was where I needed to end up. I need to go to the place where the giants were beaten by the saint and many roads lead to the Tor.” Laurel paused for a moment and wrinkled her face in thought. “He did say I would be successful in my search though.”

“The giants and the saint, Corm told us about them; this confirms it. The Cheesewring is where we need to go next,” Aisling spoke up.

 

 

* * *

The fire crackled in the hearth, and a small explosion of sparks flew up the chimney. In the resultant glow, the little salamander twined himself around the coals in the grate and waited for the group to notice him. After a short period, he perched on the top of the glowing flames and clapped his small paws together three times. A shower of embers swirled in the fireplace and some landed on the rug.

“What the bloody hell is that?” Coll gaped at the figure in the flames.

“Hush, Coll, you’ll scare him off.” Aisling knelt on the rug and scooped the glowing embers back into the hearth with a little shovel.

“It’s the salamander I told you about. The one who gave me the clue about the none plus one plus none. You know, the Men an Tol,” Laurel said to Coll without taking her eyes off the salamander.

The salamander executed a very courtly bow and smiled benevolently at them.

“Wow,” Gort breathed without stuttering at all.

“It’s welcome you are to my house and fire,” Sarie greeted the salamander formally.

The little creature bowed again to Sarie with a flourish of his tail. His bright blue eyes twinkled as he regarded each one of the company in turn. With a small scattering of sparks, he seated himself on the edge of the biggest heap of coals in the fire and folded his front paws around his knees.

“Well met, searchers,” the salamander greeted them. “You have journeyed well and answered each clue as it presented to you.” His voice was the high, sweet sound of wind chimes and bells tinkling. “You must not falter now when your goal is close to you. As you have deduced, the Cheesewring is where you must go. There you will receive the final clue and a message of much importance.”

“Who are you?” Gort asked.

The salamander regarded Gort solemnly for a brief moment, his bright eyes thoughtful. Gort raised his hand to his forehead for a moment. The salamander nodded his little head haloed by the golden flames.

“I am known as Belerion, the Shining One.”

“I’ve seen you before. In Uncle Daniel’s fire. I thought you were my imagination,” Gort said quietly.

“I have watched over you when your friend Aisling was worried for you,” Belerion told Gort. “I couldn’t speak to you until you acknowledged me.”

“Oh,” Gort managed to say.

“So, Little One,” Sarie broke into the conversation. “This lot needs to go up to the rocks on Stowe’s Hill by Minions?”

“’Tis so, Mistress Sarie,” Belerion affirmed with a nod of his gold-red head, “as soon as ever it is possible.”

“We should wait for this one to heal up a bit before we go haring off on another adventure.” Sarie indicated Laurel’s bruised face.

Belerion smiled, and his blue eyes glittered. “I can fix you up right smartly.”

He rose gracefully to his hind legs, pulling himself up to his full height. The fire glowed brighter, and the flames created a halo of orange-red and gold around his small figure. With his small paws, Belerion gathered bits of the fire and formed them into a glowing ball. The ball retained it shape, but flowed like water in his hands, the colors of the fire pulsing across its surface in waves. Belerion turned his gaze to Laurel, and his eyes sparkled as he suddenly tossed her the ball.

“Catch!” Belerion’s silvery voice shimmered in the air as the small ball soared directly at her.

Instinctively she reached out her hand to catch the small missile. As it came in contact with her fingers, the ball broke apart into hundreds of small shimmering spheres of light. The spheres organized themselves into a spiral and danced about with Laurel at their center. Belerion clapped his hands in glee from the hearth.

As the tiny brilliant lights swirled around her, the aches and pains faded away. She looked down at the big bruise and scrape on her forearm and watched as the colored spheres concentrated on the spot and leached the bruise and soreness away. The scrape faded as she watched. Laurel gave up trying to follow the pattern the spheres made and lost herself in the beautiful colors and the wonderful feeling of warmth and happiness they produced inside her. The spheres organized themselves back into a single sphere and returned to Belerion’s hands in the hearth. With a graceful movement of his hand, Belerion returned the ball of colored light to the flames.

“Wow, thanks. I feel so much better.”

“This is my personal gift to you, Laurel the searcher. Now you must take full benefit of my gift and make your journey soon.” Belerion bowed.

 

 

* * *

Coll watched the lights encircle Laurel and return to the creature in the fire in disbelief. This was the kind of magic his Gramma talked about but Coll never really believed existed outside of the old stories. Until now. It was one thing for Aisling to have a piskie for a friend because everyone knew there were piskies in Cornwall. But to have little lizard guys in the fire talk and heal up bruises right in front of him was more than Coll would have been willing to believe if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

“Ah, the protector.” Belerion held Coll’s eyes with his bright blue ones. “You do well to not trust easily. That is your job, to keep the searcher from danger she may not perceive for herself. Guard her well, Knight Protector,” Belerion said for Coll alone to hear.

With a cheery flick of his tail and a wink of his eye, Belerion disappeared into the heart of the flames, and the bright glow of the fire decreased a bit.

“Well then, shall we plan on visiting Minions this Saturday?” Sarie said brightly into the silence after Belerion’s departure.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Laurel turned out the light in the hall before she went to her room. Closing the door behind her she dropped onto the bed. The backpack on the end of the bed fell to the floor with a thump and one of Gramma Bella’s letters fluttered free. Laurel leaned down and retrieved both items. Setting the backpack by her feet, she unfolded the letter and began to read.

July 10, 1965

Dearest Sarie,

I just received your post today. I feel so out of touch with you, it takes so long for the mail to go between us. I am glad that Ebon is doing well at your place. You said you had talked to Vear Du, how is he? Does he miss me? Is he happy about Colton? What a silly question to ask when I never told him I was pregnant and there is no chance of Vear every seeing his son. I…

Her stomach turned over and she thought she might be ill. This couldn’t be true, none of it. Grampa D’Arcy was Dad’s father, not, Oh my God, Vear Du! Laurel stuffed the paper back into her pack with trembling hands. Until she could talk to Mom or Gramma Bella when she got home, Laurel vowed not to tell anyone, not even Aisling. Maybe this was the reason Dad was so mad at Gramma Bella. She got ready for bed quickly and lay down, sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but Belerion’s lingering magic soothed her and she slept.

* * *

Saturday morning found the company of four, along with Sarie and Emily in the cramped confines of Sarie’s car. The headlights pushed back the pre-dawn blackness as they wound their way through the narrow lanes. A rabbit dashed across the road, appearing suddenly from the thick hedge on one side of the road and disappearing just as quickly into the heavy growth on the opposite side. Laurel smiled at Aisling; rabbits were good luck.

Dawn was beginning to lighten the eastern sky as Sarie drove into the outskirts of Minions. On the drive up from Penzance, they finished off the breakfast of scones and hot tea Emily brought along. Gort and Coll were ready for a more substantial meal. With that in mind, Sarie pulled into the car park by the Cheesewring Hotel. The hotel boasted a pub, which was open at this hour of the morning for hikers and locals who needed an early start. The atmosphere inside the square white two-story building with the pub on the ground floor was warm and welcoming. Laurel wrinkled her nose in appreciation of the enticing smells coming from the kitchen area. Before long, they were all tucking into sausage and eggs with fried potato planks and toast. Coll and Gort finished first and amused themselves telling smugglers’ stories Old Joseph had shared with them.

“Can we start soon?” Laurel pleaded with Sarie, anxious to get to the Cheesewring and start looking for the final clue. Somehow, she was sure a clue wouldn’t be just sitting there waiting for her to find it.

“Of course we can, love.”

“Where do you think we should look first?” she asked as the group trooped out of the pub and climbed back into Sarie’s car.

“We could start at the museum,” Emily offered.

The museum was housed in the engine house of the old South Phoenix Mine, the official name being the Minions Heritage Centre. Laurel and Aisling wandered around the building, taking in the exhibits and displays, which consisted mostly of the mining ventures which were the main reason Minions had been established in this lonely spot on the southeastern portion of Bodmin Moor.

“Look, it says here Minions got its name from a barrow which lies just west of the village. It’s called Minions Mound. Do you think we should look there?” Aisling read the information off the notice in front of a picture of the barrow.

“I don’t know. Do you think it might be the right place? What’s a barrow anyway?”

“A barrow is an old underground burial place, usually covered over with turf and containing the remains of warriors and their weapons.” Coll spoke up from behind the girls.

“Blimey, Coll. Don’t sneak up like that,” Aisling exclaimed.

“I suppose we could go and take a look,” Laurel said slowly. She really didn’t think the barrow was the place she was looking for. But neither was she willing to pass it up, just in case it was important somehow.

“D-d-o you th-th-think we’ll have to t-t-talk to gh-gh-ghosts?”

“You can stay outside and guard the door if you like,” Aisling assured Gort.

The group left the museum and scrambled back into the car. A short time later, Emily and Sarie dropped them off close to the track leading to the barrow. Emily and Sarie decided to stop at Minions Post Office, which also boasted a tea shop, to gossip and enjoy some hot tea and scones. The little group set off toward the barrow situated a short distance along the track.

“Coll, you go first.” Laurel was reluctant to enter the low doorway of the barrow. The granite stone outlining the opening shone silver grey in the morning sun but didn’t look at all inviting.

Coll stuck his head and shoulders in the opening and then ducked back into the sunlight. Gort stood a safe distance back from the dark hole, making a great show of admiring the wide sweep of the moor shining in the late morning sun.

“Ya can’t really go in, it’s all blocked off,” Coll said with more than a little relief in his voice.

Laurel kicked a small tuft of grass with her shoe. Now she was at the barrow, she knew it wasn’t the place she was supposed to find. Something just didn’t feel right or safe to her. Little tingles of electricity ran up and down her spine; her skin felt jumpy and itchy.

“I don’t think this is the place. Let’s walk back and find Emily and Sarie.” She wanted to be gone from the place.

“You’re sure you don’t want to look around a little, or try to call Gwin Scawen and see what he thinks?” Aisling asked.

“I’m sure, really, really sure,” Laurel said emphatically, starting back down the track toward the village.

They met up with Sarie and Emily outside the Post Office. It was almost one o’clock, and they were no closer to finding her final clue than that morning before they left Penzance.

“Why don’t we just stay the night at the Piper’s Stone?” Emily spoke to Sarie quietly.

“We could at that,” Sarie agreed. “It’s such a lovely cottage, and it will give Laurel more time to find whatever it is she’s looking for.”

Sarie went back into the Post Office to ring the owner of the Piper’s Stone and make arrangements. The cottage was available for the night as it was still too early in the season for most tourists. In a few minutes, Sarie parked by the beautiful, granite cottage with its leaded glass windows and profusion of flowers blooming around it.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Aisling exclaimed. “Do we really get to stay here tonight?”

“It is lovely, isn’t it?” Emily said happily. “You girls can take the small room upstairs; Gort and Coll will have to camp out in the lounge on the sofa bed.”

“Thank you so much for doing this.” Laurel hugged Sarie around the neck. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long to find the clue.”

“Just so long as you find it. Where do you want to search this afternoon?” Sarie inquired.

“I guess we may as well walk up to the top of Stowe’s Hill and check out the Cheesewring rocks,” Laurel said.

“M-m-maybe we sh-sh-should look in D-D-Daniel Gumb’s c-c-cave,” Gort interjected. “I r-r-read about it for school.”

“It says here there’s a cave on the south side of Stowe’s Hill under the Cheesewring.” Aisling waved a brochure she picked up from the table in the kitchen. “A man and his family lived there in the nineteenth century. It says he was kind of an odd man and preoccupied with mathematics and geometry. This must be your man Gort; it says his name was Daniel Gumb.”

“It seems as good a place as any to start,” Coll said.

“Let’s go now then.” Laurel was anxious to get started.

Sarie drove along the narrow winding roads of Minions out to the small car park on the eastern outskirts. The bulk of Stowe’s Hill dominated the horizon, with the odd pile of rocks known as the Cheesewring perched on the edge of the Cheesewring Quarry.

They stopped to read the information sign posted by the head of the track.

“Wow, the top of Stowe’s Hill is twelve-hundred and forty-nine feet above sea level. That makes it the highest point in Cornwall.” Coll was impressed.

“Sulphur Mountain, back home is just under seven thousand feet above sea level. Me and my mom took the switchback trail to the top once; at least this shouldn’t be as hard.”

“This is interesting. It says the rock formation got its name from its resemblance to “cheeses” which are cloth bags full of pulped apples cider is pressed from. I wondered how it got its name. Another interpretation is it looks like an old press used to wring the milk out of cheese.” Aisling read from the sign.

“C’mon then, let’s go.” Coll started off up the rugged track. “Let’s find the cave.”

It was a short half-mile walk up the track to the stones, and then they scoured the slopes on the south side for the cave.

“The cave’s over here.” Coll’s voice echoed slightly off the granite boulders before it was carried away by the wind.

“Do ya think we should go inside?” Aisling sounded unsure.

“Is it safe do ya think?” Laurel hesitated uncertainly.

“If we’ve gotta go, let’s go now,” Gort said with a show of forced bravery.

“I’m with you on that, mate,” Coll agreed.

They walked carefully into the interior looking about expectantly. Laurel closed her eyes and concentrated on asking for the final clue. There didn’t seem to be any feeling of life or other presences in the cave. Frustrated, she opened her eyes. Aisling was scrounging around at the entrance examining the stones of the doorway. Coll and Gort drifted away to the back of the cave. The light was strong enough Gort appeared to feel comfortable being so far from the door.

Laurel walked aimlessly over to Aisling, and together they left the cave and climbed up onto the flat roof over the doorway. The roof was made from a huge single slab of granite. Looking away across the moor, homesickness stabbed in her belly. The moor was so much like the Alberta prairie—miles and miles of short grass and stubby bushes sweeping beneath the arch of the endless sky.

“Look what you’re standing on.” Aisling squealed in excitement.

“What?”

There were some odd lines and figures scratched or engraved into the rock surface. The girls stood back to get a better look.

“It looks kind of familiar,” Aisling said slowly, “like I should know what it is.” Her voice trailed off as she continued to study the markings.

“Does it look like geometry to you?” The markings weren’t making any kind of sense. Scratched on the silvery grey granite was what looked like a square within a square with two smaller squares on the bottom right and on the bottom of the right side of the original square.

“Hey!” Laurel tipped her head back and spoke to the bright blue sky and golden sun. “Is this what I’m supposed to find? If it is, I need some help ‘cause I have no idea what it means.”

“I know where I’ve seen this before.” Aisling looked both satisfied and disappointed at the same time. “It’s a copy of the Pythagorean Theorem. They mentioned it in the brochure back at the cottage.”

“Do you think this is the clue?”

“What do you think? Does it mean anything to you?”

She closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could; this had to be the final clue she needed to get on with putting it all together. The harder Laurel tried to make the scratching on the rock mean something, the more it eluded her. Her stomach was sick, and her hands shook with frustration as she clenched them at her sides. Blinking away the tears of frustration, she dropped to her butt on the granite and rested her head on her knees. Dizziness swept over her. The rock moved underneath her.

“All right are ‘ee?” Aisling’s voice came from a long way away.

“I don’t think so.” Laurel shook her head and wished she hadn’t. “I need to get away from here.” Staggering to her feet, she began walking up the hill towards the misshapen pile of rocks at the crest. The further away from Daniel Gumb’s cave she got, the better she felt. Aisling hurried after her.

“What happened?” Concern made Aisling’s voice shrill.

The sweat on Laurel’s face felt cold; her eyes teared, blurring her vision. Aisling caught her hand and pulled her to a halt.

“Did you see something? Was that the clue?”

“No, I just had to get away from there. I don’t know where the stupid clue is.”

“I’m going to go over to The Hurlers.” Aisling indicated the stone circles in the distance with a wave of her hand. “I’m hoping Gwin Scawen will be about and willing to offer us some advice. Do you want to come with me?” Aisling frowned.

“No, I think I’ll keep on up to the Cheesewring thing and see what I can find. Will you let Coll and Gort know where we’ve gone?” Laurel looked up the hill at the imposing bulk of the stones above her head. “I think I’m headed in the right direction, but you go on ahead to the Hurler circles, at least we’ll be covering more ground than if we stick together.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Aisling dithered with indecision.

“I’m fine, Ash, really. Once I got away from the cave.” She looked back down the slope and shivered. “You reckon Coll and Gort are still in there?”

“I’ll check on them before I head to the Hurlers.” Aisling headed down the slope and soon disappeared from view.

Stopping at the crest, Laurel spread her arms wide to the wind blowing sharply over the hill. Her hair flew out behind her head; the wind smelled of dry grass and gorse with a touch of saltiness from the sea. Now she was at the top of the hill, Laurel was unsure what to do next.

The odd shaped pile of granite reared itself over her, the main bulk of it supported by what looked like fat stubby legs of smaller rounds of granite. It resembled a short squat giant crouching on the edge of the quarry. Laurel wondered if it ever thought about launching itself into the air.

She walked around the base of the pile. How can I get up onto the top? Without hesitating, Laurel put thought into action and began to scale the granite rocks. It was much easier than it looked to reach the flat stone on the top of the pile. That seemed too easy; I should never have been able to climb up here. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and stood with her feet apart and gazed over the surrounding countryside.

Gort and Coll emerged from the cave down the slope of the hill and Aisling was standing in the center of one of the stone circles to the north. Laurel squinted against the sun; there was small figure capering about Aisling’s legs. It looked like Gwin Scawen showed up to help them after all.

“Now what?”

She sat cross-legged on the sun-warm granite and stroked the silvery surface with her fingers. A lump in the front pocket of her jeans reminded her of the talisman Vear Du gave her. Leaning back a little, she slid her fingers into her pocket and pulled out the talisman, holding it up to the sun. The stone swung in the wind on the end of the leather thong.

Music sounded from the object in her hand. Tinkling, like ice breaking up in a lake before the wind, or crystals on a wind chime. The talisman was no longer a plain stone and cowrie shell on a leather thong, but the glowing crystal and cowrie shell Vear Du gave her in the dream. The chain they were attached to shone silver in the sunlight. Joy and relief flooded through Laurel. This must be the right place to look for the final clue. Now if only I could figure out where the darn thing is, or even what it is.

A shadow crossed the surface of the rock blocking the sun for a moment. She looked skyward to see if clouds were blowing in and promptly forgot to breathe. High above her, a huge creature was circling. It descended quickly in tight spirals, coming ever closer.

The creature’s short stubby wings didn’t seem sufficient to hold the rest of the beast in the air. He had a long neck and a small head attached to a large body with a long tail and stubby legs. The beast looked like a flying version of the Loch Ness Monster, or Ogopogo from Okanagan Lake in British Columbia. Fascinated, Laurel watched it come lower and lower. For all its bulk, the creature moved with a certain gracefulness in the air. The beast was just overhead, and she wondered if she should move and give it more room to land. Its smooth skin was mottled brown and grey. The creature had large expressive eyes, and he dipped his head and winked at her. Clapping her hand over her mouth, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scream.

The creature landed gently on the granite stone. She felt the stone rock slightly under her. She got to her feet, still holding the shining talisman in her hand. She took a quick step back and almost toppled off the side as something slid down the creature’s shoulder and landed in front of her.

Vear Du leaned forward and pulled her back from the edge. The wind blew his dark hair across his face as he grinned at her.

“I thought you were never going to remember to use the talisman,” Vear Du said in greeting.

“You’re the final clue?”

“Not exactly. Come sit, and we’ll talk.” Vear Du indicated the sun-warm rock.

“Who’s your friend?”

“That’s Morg,” Vear Du said affectionately.

“And what is a Morg?” The large creature stretched himself out in the sun in the lee of the Cheesewring and, for all intents and purposes, looked like he was going to take a nap.

“Why he’s an old friend of mine is Morg.”

“But what is he?”

“Morgawr, that’s his proper name, is a sea creature descended from the Ancient Ones. He’s an immortal like me, or nearly so.”

“But, he was flying. How can he fly, if he’s supposed to swim in the sea?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought to ask him. He just can.”

“Oh,” said Laurel, studying Morg intently as he slept. His gusty breathing sent little dust devils whirling with each exhalation of his breath.

“Now, back to business, my gold,” Vear Du reminded her. “You have a riddle to solve.”

“Do you have the final clue for me?”

“So far, you have successfully figured out each step. Next will come the final test of your courage and the strength of your company. You have been to the holed stone once; you must go there again. Only the four of you may go, although you may take the horse friends as a means of transportation.” Vear Du’s dark eyes smiled warmly with approval.

“Sarie and Emily can’t help us this time?”

Vear Du shook his head. “The ones who can grant your miracle are very clear on this point. You and your company must complete this last task on your own. Are you ready for the clue?”

Laurel nodded her head, while the talisman glowed warmly in her fingers, lending her the courage she needed at the moment.

“As I said, you must return to the holed stone. This time as the full moon is rising. When the moon begins to gleam on the horizon, you have to crawl through the hole nine times. You must finish the ninth pass before the moon swings clear of the hills. From there, you go forward as you see fit; the choice will be yours to accept the challenges or reject them. Only you can determine if your miracle will happen. If things go as they should, you will greet the Filly Who Never Was Foaled and embark on your journey. If your company stays true to form, they will accompany you. If not, you must choose if you will journey on alone, or give up your quest.” Vear Du looked gravely into her face. “Will you remember these things I tell you?”

“You bet I will. Where is the holed stone? I don’t know what stone you mean.”

“Think carefully. You have been there. Remember the voice of Belerion.” Vear Du took Laurel’s cold hand in his large warm one.

“Belerion?”

What does the little salamander have to do with the holed stone? She started in surprise as Morg roused himself from his nap and raised his long snake like neck so his bright eye was even with the top of the Cheesewring. Morg gazed intently at her and gently blew a great gust of breath. His breath smelled salty and slightly fishy, overlaid with the scent of hot dry stone and wild flowers. Shimmering in the air before her was the Men an Tol where they met Gwin Scawen the day of Gort’s birthday cream tea at Lanyon Quoit Teahouse. With a small, satisfied snort, Morg shook himself and rose to his feet.

“The Men an Tol! I should have known that. We need to go the Men an Tol at the next full moon. Thank you, Morg. Thank you.”

Morg dipped his head in a small bow.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Vear Du cleared his throat and tried to look annoyed.

“I’m sorry, thank you, too.” Laurel flung her arms around Vear Du and hugged him tightly.

Morg made a sound remarkably like someone clearing his throat to get attention. Vear Du turned toward him with his arm still around her.

“I know, my friend. It is time we were leaving,” Vear Du said ruefully.

“Wait,” Laurel cried as Vear Du made to mount Morg once more.

“What is it, little one?”

“Did you know my Gramma Arabella?”

The big Selkie turned a pale shade of grey at the sound of Arabella’s name. He looked like someone punched him in the stomach.

“Why do you ask?” Vear Du tried to sound like it was of no consequence.

“You know why,” Laurel said quickly. “I found some letters Gramma Bella wrote to Sarie a long time ago, after she left Penzance.”

“What did the letters say?” Wearily, Vear Du sat down on the hard granite. His legs didn’t seem to want to hold him up anymore.

With an impatient sound, Morg settled himself back down in the sun with his head turned to catch everything being said. Sea monsters do so enjoy a good gossip.

“He’ll listen to every word you know; he quite likes his gossip this one.” Vear indicated the attentive creature with a resigned wave of his hand.

“Gramma Bella used to meet you out by the bay where I met you. She called it Seal Rock in her letter. She said she loved you. Did you love her back?”

“Aye I did, very much, I still do. Love between humans and Selkies is a complicated thing. By now Bella is older and I…I still look much the same as I did when I met her,” Vear Du said sadly. “Your Gramma Bella chose to leave and find a human to love.”

“She did not! Her father sent her away to Canada and made an arranged marriage for her.”

“I never knew that.” Vear Du said in a small voice. “Why would she go? She could have moved in with Sarie.”

Laurel snorted in exasperation. Selkie or no, Vear Du was as dense as Coll could be sometimes.

“She was pregnant with my father,” Laurel shouted at Vear Du. “Didn’t you ever think of that?”

“She was what?” Vear Du leaped to his feet. Below them Morg reared up in alarm.

“Didn’t you ever ask Sarie why my Gramma left? Didn’t you even try to find out?”

“I only saw Sarie once after Bella left. I was afraid to ask her where Bella had gone, or why,” Vear Du said quietly. Silver tears traced their way down his bronzed cheeks.

“So you’re my real grandfather. If I hadn’t come to Cornwall, I never would have known you existed at all.”

“That’s true, isn’t it? You’re my granddaughter. And I have a son.” A light glowed in Vear Du’s dark eyes, and a brilliant smile split his face. “I knew there was something familiar about the feel of you when I realized you were up on the cliff top the day I was caught in that damnable net.”

“How will I ever visit you?”

“I’m not sure. Morg and I do have to get going. We have tarried longer than we were supposed to. I think if you use the talisman you can call me, no matter where you are.” Vear Du moved toward the edge of the stone where Morg waited for him.

Laurel ran after him and flung herself into his arms. “I’ll miss you. I’ll try to let you know how everything turns out.”

Vear Du seated himself on Morg’s neck, just behind his head. Morg made ready to take off when Vear Du raised his hand.

“How is Bella?” His dark eyes were huge and seemed to swallow Laurel.

“She’s fine as far as I know. I’m going to go find her as soon as I get home.”

“Give her my love,” Vear Du said softly and lowered his arm.

Morg launched himself into the air with a whuft of displaced air. Laurel staggered back a few steps and tipped her head back, waving to Vear Du. In a very short time, they were a small dark speck in the wide blue sky. Soon she couldn’t even see that.

Laurel scrambled back down the granite rocks to the crest of Stowe’s Hill. The little village of Minions was cradled between the hill where she stood and Caradon Hill in the distance. She looked toward the stone circles of the Hurlers; Aisling and Gwin Scawen were nowhere to be seen.

“Laurel.” Coll’s voice came from below.

“I’m right here.”

“Where the bloody hell were you?” Coll huffed as he jogged the last couple of feet to Laurel.

“I was right here on top of the Cheesewring.”

“We looked and looked for you. You were nowhere,” Gort said slowly. He was looking at her hand.

“What’ve you got? Is it the clue?” Coll followed Gort’s gaze.

Laurel held up the talisman. The crystal still glowed, and the cowrie shell glittered on the shimmering chain. As Coll and Gort watched astonished, the glow faded, and the crystal reverted to the silver grey of granite, and the shimmering silver chain faded back into the leather thong. The talisman still retained a faint warmth as she tucked it back in her pocket.

“No, that’s the talisman Vear Du gave me. I do have the final clue though,” she said triumphantly.

“What is it?” Aisling broke into the conversation. She joined them on top of the hill. Gwin Scawen capered at her side. Grinning broadly, Gwin bowed, his long nose touching the ground.

“It is most delightful to see you again, Miss Laurel,” Gwin Scawen greeted her. “You have found that for which you were searching.” Gwin made it a statement, not a question.

“Well, yeah. How do you know that?”

“I saw the great sea horse and the Selkie,” Gwin said. He seemed most pleased at the reaction his statement got from Coll and Gort.

“A sea horse,” Coll said derisively. “This is the middle of the bloody moor. We’re nowhere near the sea.”

“Am I wrong?” Gwin Scawen grinned wickedly.

“He’s right. Vear Du was here, and he was riding this huge creature. He looked like the Loch Ness Monster, now that I think about it. Only nicer.”

“Vear Du was here?” Aisling broke in. “Did he have the last clue?”

“He did. He thought he was making it pretty simple, but I couldn’t figure it out. Then Morg, that’s the sea horse’s name, showed me the answer.”

“What do we have to do?” Coll asked.

“We have to go to the Men an Tol at the next full moon. We have to go on our own, without Sarie or Emily. Just us, but we can bring the horses.”

“What d-d-do we h-h-have to do once we g-g-get there?” Gort asked.

“I have to crawl through the hole nine times. I have to start just as the moon begins to rise and finish the ninth time through before the moon comes clear of the horizon. Vear Du said I would meet the Filly Who Never Was Foaled.”

“Then what happens?” Coll said. It all sounded way too simple.

“It depends on me, on us. We all have to make some kind of choices we won’t know about until it happens. I guess we just have to wait and see.”

Somberly, the little group made their way back down the hill and followed the track back to the car park in the slanting light of the setting sun. By the time they reached the car park, the sun had set, and the lovely blue glow of the twilight sky burned over them, still offering enough light for them to see Sarie and Emily waiting for them.

“Well, did you get it?” Emily asked.

“We did, but we can’t tell you everything,” Laurel replied.

“We’ll tell you as much as we’re allowed,” Aisling promised Sarie.

In very short order, they were all gathered around the table in the kitchen of the Piper’s Stone Cottage. Over the good dinner Emily prepared for them, Laurel filled Emily and Sarie in on the details she felt they could share. Sarie asked the most questions about Morg. There were many legends and stories about long necked sea monsters being sighted out in Falmouth Bay as well as other places up and down the Cornish coast. She could tell Sarie very much wanted to meet one of them for herself.

 

 

* * *

The twilight faded outside the mullioned cottage windows, and true night descended while they talked long into the night. The fire crackled and sputtered; from deep in the golden glow Belerion’s bright blue eyes glittered and then disappeared. The seeker was in possession of her final clue, now it was all in her hands. Belerion sent her his blessing.