Circles of Stone Read online

  Copyright

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2015

  HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  Copyright © Ian Johnstone 2015

  Cover photography © Eliz Huseyin

  Ian Johnstone asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780007491179

  Ebook Edition © 2015 ISBN: 9780007491209

  Version: 2015-06-08

  Praise for The Mirror Chronicles series:

  “I became totally immersed in an amazing world of painted words … breathtaking and an absolute joy to read. A book that you will reflect on for the rest of your life. Just like when you first read The Hobbit or took your first stroll along the story path of Terry Pratchett … An epic masterpiece.” Mr Ripley’s Enchanted Books

  “Johnstone effortlessly conjures up elaborate worlds rich in both magic and fantasy. The Bell Between Worlds has an enchanting quality that is capable of standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of The Chronicles of Narnia and His Dark Materials … The narrative flows with ease and the story maintains excitement right to the end. This highly-charged adventure is a delightful page-turner for both children and adults alike.”

  We Love This Book

  For Mum and Dad, who let me dream

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise

  Dedication

  Part One: The Valley

  1. Safe Harbour

  2. Sylva

  3. The Valley

  4. Sorcery

  5. The Garden

  6. Born

  7. The Merisi Band

  8. The Choice

  9. Friends

  10. Hope and Despair

  11. Duty

  12. Exodus

  13. The Way

  14. The Tempest

  15. Undone

  16. Remember

  17. Death

  18. The Kraven

  19. Never Look Back

  20. What You Are Not

  21. Doubt

  22. Faith

  Epilogue

  Part Two: The Yin and the Yang

  23. What Magic

  24. Wonders Scientific

  25. Unthinkable

  26. The Time Machine

  27. War

  28. Home

  29. Mr Zhi

  30. The Lost Legion

  31. Things

  32. The Black

  33. Before The Storm

  34. Time

  35. The Place of Tongues

  36. Ragers

  37. The Temple of Isia

  38. The Climb

  39. Discovered

  40. On the Threshold

  41. Salve for the Soul

  42. The Bond that Binds

  43. The Merisi

  44. The Glen

  Part Three: Knowing

  45. The Fruit of the Knowing Tree

  46. Trapped

  47. The Girl

  48. The Beginning and the End

  49. Laythlick

  50. Good Medicine

  51. The Motherland

  52. The Silent Surge

  53. The Darkling Horde

  54. Of Glove and the Hand

  55. Isia’s Song

  56. A Proposition

  57. Surge

  58. Sacrifice

  59. The Elements

  60. Storm

  61. Shattered

  62. The Source

  63. Burdens to Bear

  64. Gather the Suhl

  65. Journey’s End

  66. The Perilous Path

  67. The Glimmertrome

  68. Our Riven Soul

  69. A light in the Darkness

  70. At Last

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Books by Ian Johnstone

  About the Publisher

  “From the frothing talons of tempest a single craft emerged – broken but afloat – drifting wearily to safe harbour.”

  THE TWO GIANT TREES towered above the others, their arms outstretched as though claiming the ancient forest as their own. But it was not only their size that made these mighty oaks so magical, nor their drapery of white where the other trees wore thin cloaks of orange and brown leaves. What made them wondrous was their slow graceful motion. Like commanders inspecting their troops they took a stately path between the lesser trees, sweeping this way and that through the vast skeletal canopy.

  And so it was that as the forest chattered and rustled and chirped its welcome, the great masts of the Windrush brought it to the end of its long journey.

  The captain heaved at the wheel and the battered old ship turned another bend in the river. He brushed back his ragged mop of blond curls and peered through the pockets of evening mist. He frowned and blinked.

  “This is it …” he muttered, raising his head to look for his companions. “This is it!”

  Simia was sitting with her feet dangling over the side of the ship and did not look up.

  “You said that three bends ago, Ash,” she grumbled, throwing a pebble into the river. “And two bends before that.”

  “But it really is this time, I’m sure of it! Get Naeo … or Sylas … either – both of them!”

  “Aye, aye, Cap’n …” grumbled Simia, giving him a wilting salute.

  She made her way to the nearest hatch and disappeared below. Moments later her shock of red hair reappeared above deck and behind her another girl stepped into view. She looked about the same age as Simia but was taller and climbed the ladder lightly, with a longer, more graceful step. Her blonde hair was drawn back and held in place by a criss-cross of sticks, revealing a narrow neck and delicate features. As she stepped on to the deck, she fixed Ash with her piercing blue eyes.

  He grinned and stepped down from the helm. “Naeo, look – look at the trees!” he exclaimed, striding past them both to the bow of the ship. “There’s something about them – this has to be it!”

  Simia and Naeo walked up and stood at his shoulders, staring out at the forest. Birds flitted from branch to branch as the aged trees hung over the swirling waters, dropping the occasional long-dead leaf. Above, the canopy ascended towards two hills, themselves blanketed in yet more forest. There was perhaps an odd quality to the light, a slight vividness to the mottled browns and oranges, but otherwise everything looked normal.

  “Ash, they look just like the million other trees we’ve passed,” said Simia, shaking her head. “Except these ones are getting really close – I mean really close – shouldn’t you be at the wheel?”

  The river curved away in a wide bend and the Windrush was indeed drawing ever closer to the far bank. Ash sighed his disappointment, then pushed back from the handrail.

  “Don’t!” exclaimed Naeo suddenly. She looked up at him. “Wait.”

  She leaned forward and peered into the tangle of branches ahead.

  Ash tensed. “If I don’t
go now, we’re going to crash straight into—”

  “Trust me,” said Naeo, calmly. “We won’t crash.” She turned to them. “Just watch – we’re expected.”

  Their eyes returned to the wall of branches, trunks, bushes and shadows that loomed ever nearer. They all took a firm hold of the handrail.

  “I hope you’re right about this …” said Ash, wincing.

  As he spoke the long arm of the bowsprit passed over the far bank and disappeared into the forest, snapping branches and crashing through twigs as it went, sending down a shower of dried leaves. Ash and Simia exchanged a glance and braced themselves for the shuddering impact with the bank.

  Simia pressed her eyes shut. “This is a bad idea!”

  “Don’t worry,” came a voice from behind. “It’ll be fine.”

  Sylas was standing back along the deck, near the hatch. He did not approach – throughout the journey he and Naeo had sought to be as far from one another as possible – but he smiled at Simia and took hold of the handrail by his side.

  Everyone held on tight. A moment passed, then another. They heard the scrape of branches against the hull, felt the cool of the forest as they passed under the overhanging boughs, heard a joist creak beneath their feet. But there was no calamitous crash, no snapping of timbers, no sudden end to their long journey.

  The Windrush sailed on.

  They looked to their left and right and saw the floor of the forest passing them by: low bushes and huddling plants, saplings and tree trunks. They looked up and saw the canopy high above, brushing past the rigging, crowding the mast. It was as though the wilderness had opened its arms and drawn them in. The keel cleaved through the soft folds of earth and living things as though they were water, bearing its great weight onwards, towards the two hills.

  Their eyes were wide with wonder and Simia shrieked with delight.

  “How did you know?” she asked Naeo, breathlessly.

  “Look …” said Naeo, pointing out into the forest.

  They turned to where she was pointing and narrowed their eyes. At first they thought it was just a muddle of light, or perhaps an oddly shaped trunk, but then they realised that they were looking at a human figure. It was a woman leaning against a tree, her body draped in loose garments of the same drab colours of the forest: browns, oranges, greens, limes and yellows. The only part of her that did not blend with the thicket was her pale face, which almost seemed to float in mid-air, smiling at their wonderment.

  “They’re everywhere!” shouted Sylas, pointing out over the side of the ship.

  Now they knew what to look for, they saw the pale glow of scores of faces, some peering from behind bushes, some high in the branches of trees, but most gathering alongside the great ship, as though guiding it in as it rolled and yawed ever deeper into the forest. They walked in two columns, left and right, stepping lightly between the trees, many peering back to the river as though to check that the Windrush had not been followed, others looking at its path ahead.

  Simia ran from the bow and joined Sylas, grabbing his arm. “It’s changing! The forest – look at it!”

  Some distance ahead the trees seemed to be thinning, the shadows falling away, the colours brightening. They could see flecks of light between the foliage, scattering beams through the damp air. The ship dipped into the trough of a ditch and mounted the bank beyond like a wave, gaining new height. Every part of the brush was shimmering with the promise of a break in the forest, and as more and more people emerged to walk at the ship’s flanks, they knew that they were nearing their destination.

  The four shared excited glances as suddenly the final curtains of green and brown fell away. Evening sunlight poured down upon them, scattering the shadows and bathing the deck in a welcome warmth.

  Before them lay all the majesty of Nature.

  A huge lake stretched out as far as the eye could see. Its waters were bright and crystal clear and made the air smell sweet, and it was so still that the surface was mirror-like, reflecting the giant canopy of blue sky above. Only in the distance could they see any movement on the lake, for there, fogging the horizon, was a giant waterfall, sending up a smoke of ethereal mist. Rising steeply on either side were the two hills, carpeted with a thick forest that even now, in early winter, retained its green. Birds of all kinds soared above, turning in wide arcs on the gentle breeze, tipping their wings, playing on the thermals, darting between the treetops.

  Sylas laughed with delight and grasped Simia’s hand. At that moment the tired joints of the Windrush let out a brief complaint and Simia shrieked as the keel plunged into the cool waters of the lake, sending up a great sheet of spray on all sides. The vessel rocked backwards and lurched a little to one side, then righted itself. They heard a roar and patter, which at first they thought to be the falling water, but when they turned they saw that the bank was now crowded with a great assembly of Suhl, all of them clapping and cheering, smiling and shouting their welcome.

  At their centre, one woman stood alone. She did not wear the forest hues of her fellows, but instead a flowing white gown – the gown of a Suhl elder. Her glistening grey hair fell about her shoulders, marked out by a braid of brighter colours. Her beautiful face was full of joy.

  Filimaya raised her arms, gesturing to the Valley of Outs, and bid them welcome.

  “Sylva is a town as strange and beguiling as any in faery folklore, lost as it is in folds of earth, wrapped in a tangle of trees.”

  FILIMAYA EMBRACED SIMIA FIRST, holding her tight and bending down to kiss the top of her head. Then she went straight to Sylas and embraced him too, in a way that surprised him: not a formal greeting, but warm and heartfelt. For a moment he felt awkward, holding his arms at his sides. No one had held him like this since his mother had been taken away. But her warmth was infectious and slowly he drew his arms around her.

  “Thank you for returning to us, Sylas,” whispered Filimaya. There was a pause. “And who did you bring with you?”

  Sylas turned. There, walking down the gangway from the ship, was Naeo. As was her way, she seemed at ease, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, eyeing the crowd of onlookers and paying little attention to the reunion.

  “That’s Naeo,” he said, instinctively taking a step away from the gangway. “I thought … I thought you might know her. She’s Bowe’s daughter.”

  Filimaya raised a hand to her lips. “Of course …” she said. She took a step in the girl’s direction. “Naeo, daughter of Bowe, my precious child! We thought you were—”

  “Naeo is my Glimmer,” said Sylas, abruptly.

  Filimaya froze. The gathering of Suhl fell silent. Everyone turned to face him.

  “What was that?” someone hissed behind him, and another: “Did he say his Glimmer?”

  There was a gale of hushes, everyone straining to hear what was said next.

  But Filimaya seemed lost for words. Her eyes narrowed a little, searching his face; she tilted her head as though struggling to understand. Then she glanced at Naeo, who returned her gaze without expression.

  Finally Filimaya smiled. “Well you never cease to surprise us, Sylas!” she said. There were a few nervous laughs from the crowd. “You must forgive my awkwardness. I find myself entirely unsure how to address you both.”

  “The same as ever,” said Simia with a careless shrug, as if it was perfectly clear. “Sylas is still Sylas and Naeo is Naeo. The only thing is—”

  “We prefer not to be together,” said Naeo. For the first time everyone turned to face her, taking in her slender features and calm, measured voice.

  “There’s no reason to treat us any differently,” said Sylas. “It’s just that Naeo and I … find each other … difficult.”

  “Madness, isn’t it?” came a voice from beyond the crowd. It was Ash, strolling down the gangway from the Windrush. “All that blasted effort to get them together and now they can’t wait to be apart!” He smiled and nodded at various faces that he knew, clearly enjoying his entrance.r />
  Filimaya paused, clearly still preoccupied by Sylas and Naeo, her eyes shifting between them. Finally she turned to the young man and smiled. “Welcome, Ash. You still have your knack for timing, I see.”

  Ash’s arrival was indeed a welcome distraction. Many of the Suhl were soon jockeying for position to shake Ash’s hand, bidding him their personal welcome to the valley, and the same people then naturally turned their attention to the other travellers, swamping them with enthusiastic greetings. Simia in particular seemed to enjoy the deluge of well-wishers and beamed from ear to ear as she realised that she had achieved something approaching celebrity status. She walked around, offering her gracious hand to all who approached and many who did not.

  Naeo, however, seemed far less comfortable. She shook hands and gave faint smiles, but she seemed distant and uncomfortable, looking at times tired and at others as though she wished to be anywhere else. Sylas too had slipped back a little into the crowd, distancing himself from Naeo.

  Filimaya noticed this and raised her hands to call for silence. It took some while for the gathering to come to order.

  “Friends! Friends!” shouted Filimaya. “Our guests have been travelling for days and who knows what perils they have faced. We must show them some hospitality and give them time to rest!”

  A small hollow-cheeked man stepped forward. “But Filimaya, surely we can just ask a little of what they have seen?” he protested in a dry, wasted voice. “After all, the things we have been hearing on the winds have us all terribly worried! And just this morning the chatter among the birds has changed. I am no expert, but they would seem to suggest that Thoth is beginning to—”

  Filimaya raised her hand in a calming gesture. “I understand your concerns, Dropka, and we all share them. But just look at our visitors! They are pale and they clearly haven’t slept in days. They have come here for sanctuary, not to be interrogated. What kind of hosts would you have us be?”

  The man shrank a little. “I don’t mean to be impolite,” he said, dropping his eyes. “It’s just—”

  “I understand,” said Filimaya, “of course I do, but there will be plenty of time for us to discuss these things tomorrow.”

  There was a general murmur of agreement from the gathering. The man gave a bow and quickly retreated into the crowd.

 
-->