Legend of the Suns Read online

  “I don’t think so. Now get your fist out of my friend’s face – or else!”

  Joel’s heart began dancing to a different beat, his brain goading him into fight mode.

  Sol let him go with a snigger. “Or else what?”

  Cat marched straight up to him, her head barely level with his chin. “Or else I’ll turn you into a monkey. And believe me, it wouldn’t take much effort!”

  Joel could almost feel the power radiate from her, like an open fire on a winter’s night.

  Sol puffed and balled his fists, knuckles grazed – most likely from another fight. “You havin’ a laugh?”

  Time seemed to hold them like statues. Dee and his other accomplice backed away and Joel held his breath. A short gust swept over them and he caught a whiff of tangy orange and lime; perhaps the oils from one of Cat’s charm bags. The magpie made a clattering noise and Sol raised his arm.

  “Fearne-Nuinn,” said Cat. The words snaked around them like a whispering breeze. Sol yelped and his fist recoiled, as if attached to an invisible spring. The other boys inched further away, arching their heads to discern the commotion. Sol rubbed his hand, covertly, eyes now searing. He swore at her, his voice telling of his disbelief.

  “Now just walk on, like a good little boy,” said Cat and Joel’s stomach bubbled with anticipation – it felt far better than the torment of dread.

  Sol glared at them in turn. “Freaks.” He held his stance a moment longer, locked in a tense stare. “Come on lads, these two aren’t even worth the hassle.” He turned, almost reluctantly and strode across the playground with his mates in tow.

  “Merry part!” said Cat, lyrically.

  “Thanks – thank you!” said Joel, sagging, as if he didn’t say it enough. He gathered his belongings while she poked around in her blazer, a silver pentacle catching the daylight. Then she held up one of her infamous trinkets, a small pebble etched with black lines, spinning on a piece of thread. Joel sighed, “No, really, it’s fine. I don’t need it.” He almost convinced himself this time but she held her eyebrows high, dangling the talisman before him. “Cat, I’m not even sure how it works.”

  “I told you before, you don’t need to know. I’ve charged it enough to work for you. Just believe in it!”

  His continuing rebuff seemed to irritate her and she didn’t wait any longer, pressing the smooth stone into his palm. He nodded, weakly; whether or not it had the plausible, measurable effects she purported, he did feel a sense of ease infusing his body. She wrapped an arm around him and as their hands touched, he heard a soft crackle and jerked from the shock.

  Cat screeched with laughter. “What was that?”

  “You gave me an electric shock! You always do that!” He rubbed his hand before she took it again, dragging him towards the Languages block, his head drooping like the naked branches of a nearby Cherry Plum. The magpie fluttered amongst them, as if wanting their attention.

  “Oh, Joel-y, I’m sorry it has to be so tough on you. But at least it’s Friday!”

  “Yeah.” He sounded as bleak as the grey skies, quite deliberately. “What did you use anyway?”

  She pulled another locket from under her shirt, this one featuring a silver chain with an angular glyph engraved on the stone.

  “Oh, of course.” He smirked, scouring his memory for the name of the symbol, its precise purpose, but her laughter distracted him. Then she hung from his arm and spun around to face him, pulling him indoors.

  The reverberation of the bell seemed to fade into the walls. Cat paused in the hallway to check a text message from Joel: he’d gone home early with another migraine. Her stomach grumbled again, the norm after double Spanish on a Friday. She wove amongst the clatter of teens, tapping on their phones or jabbering about their insane weekend plans. Dodging schoolbags and pretentious glam-girls, she made for the high corridor that led to the old Kennedy building.

  Once inside, she paused to inhale the aroma. A mass of nineteenth century sandstone and her favourite place in the entire school, with its arched dormer windows and large round towers, she could easily imagine herself roaming the grand rooms and mezzanines in another time, in some flowing silk-lace gown, as lady of the manor. And the library would be stacked with books on the occult and ancient rites and archaic texts from lost and forgotten places.

  She headed for the grand central staircase, ignoring the usual electrostatic shock from the handrail, when two boys came charging past, Dee strutting not far behind.

  “Out of the way, numpty!”

  Cat grumbled. “I wasn’t in your way, maggot!”

  They sneered at her and bounced down the stairs, Dee almost knocking her over. She growled after them and made it the ground floor, crowds quickly dispersing through double doors. An unfriendly wind almost forced her back but she marched ahead, hearing the cry of two magpies and watching them fly high.

  Sara Lambert squeezed her tiny frame against another blast of cold air. She sang along to the ballad playing through her earphones, feeling the notes vibrate warmly in her throat and chest. Students galloped around her, heading for buses or to catch a lift home or maybe brave a walk. The wind lifted her long, thick hair and she scrunched her eyes, glasses providing little shield. She rubbed more honey-scented balm on her lips, running through her evening schedule again: meet Cat, home for dinner and studying, oboe practice and then maybe a bubble bath.

  Someone tugged firmly on her scarf. She turned, about to greet Cat, but the sharply carved features looming over her told a different story.

  “Alright! Not got a home to go to?” Sol lowered a cigarette and blew smoke into the wind. He kept one eye trained on her, with a slightly crooked smile.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said, arms wrapped snug across her chest. “I-I’m just waiting on someone.”

  “Right.” He sighed deeply, with another lung-full of smoke. “Good at the singing, aren’t you?”

  Her stomach fluttered, as she glanced up at him. “Am I?”

  He merely smirked. “You heading to Burnsy’s this weekend?” He had a thicker accent than most others she’d met, quite befitting of his appearance.

  “Who’s Burnsy?”

  “Isn’t he in your year? Thought you would’ve known him. Anyway he’s having some big party, Saturday night.”

  A shiver ran over her and she jigged herself. “N-no, I – I don’t think so.”

  “C-c-cold, are we?” He laughed, as if he had an audience to react to his trite ridicule.

  She wanted to look away but his eyes mesmerised her, shining through another veil of smoke like electric blue lights in fog.

  “Look, I don’t mean to be rude but what do you want?”

  He smirked. “Then don't be – rude, that is.”

  She glanced over the blocks of buildings and finally spotted Cat. “There’s my friend!”

  Sol squinted over her head, his mouth turned down like he’d just bitten something sour. “Aw you don’t hang about with her, do you?”

  Sara made a deliberate frown. “Yes. Why?”

  “Never mind. I’m gone!” His words seemed to hang in the air before a breeze swept them away, just as Cat latched onto her arm and suggested a weekend study session at hers.

  The air nipped at her perspiring skin. Her heart beat fast, breath faster, blood gushing around her body. Freja paused, wiping her forehead, hair held tightly in place. Her back spasmed a little and she stretched over a wall.

  Traffic roared past and the screech of a motorbike caused her to flinch. She turned her back on the road, scanning the basalt hill to the west. The forest, almost bare, came short of the summit like the crest of a frozen wave. And further down she could see the sandstone turrets of the castle, peeking out from evergreen trees like a fairytale abode. Compared to the fjords of her homeland, it looked like a crude mound yet it had a most intriguing shape, with its long, rounded hump culminating in a distinctive promontory, like a giant nose, which swept down to a conical mound almost like a camel’s hump. The
n a series of rotund cliffs ran northwards, ending in another clear drop. One of the cliffs even had a series of small caves. Perhaps the hump could be a head, with the solitary white boulder on the slope as an eye, the promontory obviously a nose and the cliffs like pouted lips, with a strong chin; a forgotten Earth goddesses, lying in deep slumber, now at one with the land.

  Freja smiled, breathing settled, her muscles relaxed. She turned to the east and caught a welcomed breeze. The sun had fully risen, although partially hidden by thick cloud, casting a solitary weak ray onto the distant Lough where herds of white horses rode the surface - at least that’s what her grandpa had called them. A ferry powered through, heading towards a busy port where cranes and warehouses and twin gantry cranes, in stark yellow, dominated the skyline, like arching gateways to the city. A swarm of tiny birds lifted from nearby rooftops and caught her eye, weaving as one in a lively dance before flying west.

  She turned to face the long road again; could the Fates really have conspired to bring her here, to meet other Light Bearers? Could it really be time? A swell of excitement gripped her, just as a magpie swooped down in a nearby garden. She frowned, until its mate flitted in and they began parading across the grass together: a much better omen. With a final stretch, she resumed her jog and veered towards a large park.

  The breeze felt bitter despite the sun’s rising efforts. Many trees remained bare, except for the deeply shaded evergreens. A few people had ventured out to jog or cycle along the winding paths, some children playing on swings and roundabouts in the nearby park.

  Cat rested under an Ash tree, listening to cheery birdsong. She could see her mum chatting to another lady, as they tended flower beds awaiting Spring’s revival. A handful of volunteers crept through the woodland behind her, scooping offending litter into large bags while others cleaned a small pond; she could think of worse ways to spend her weekend.

  She placed a hand on the ground, sensing the zeal of new life. What surprises might the Goddess have in store for me this year, waiting beneath the hardened earth, ready to hatch? Once she’d finished her exams and school, her new life would begin – whatever that might entail. Not that it would all be pleasant, not for everyone. Her Aunt Patty came to mind, struggling with her illness again and Joel, too, forever battling with his enemies and his own list of ailments.

  Just then a small, brown bird landed above her - a lark. It seemed fairly bold, aware of her presence, as it flitted between the branches. Cat dropped her eyes to the dark green ivy leaves, cloaking the bottom of the trunk; Ash for strength, ivy for support...

  The lark took off and she combed the undergrowth, finding some greenish-grey twigs and gingerly plucking juvenile ivy leaves. Then she reached for her backpack, containing the remains of lunch – and a portable spell-kit. She tore half a blue page from a tiny notepad and scribbled down her aunt’s name, along with Joel’s, surrounding them with Ogham script for strength and harmony.

  “Nuin-Saille.” She repeated the words, as she bound the note together with the ivy leaves and twigs in blue ribbon. She kept a firm vision of her aunt and Joel, as if wrapping them up in the leaves, holding them in the healing embrace of Mother Earth. She’d brought sage oil too and added a few drops, ready to bury with the seeds, for as new life grew it would surely bring renewed energy.

  She began digging a small hole when she felt a prickling sensation, all the way up her back. She turned to see a girl, sitting on a nearby bench, in expensive looking trainers and tight jogging bottoms, apparently watching her. Cat gave a pithy smile and covered the hole, tossing some nuts under the Ash and then pressing her palm into the cool, crumbly soil.

  “Hear me, Earth Goddess, accept my humble offering and lend your healing to my friend and aunt, with my gratitude, so mote it be.” She turned and the girl now stood almost directly over her. “Gods!” Cat toppled over.

  “Sorry! Did I scare you?”

  “Not exactly.” Cat leapt up, rather awkwardly. The girl had enviable height and a slender but taut figure. And wavy brown hair with a rust-red tinge, held neatly in place. “Are you with the volunteer group?” Cat already knew the answer, judging by her apparel and foreign accent.

  “Oh – no, I’m Freja. I just moved here, from Norway.”

  “Really?” Cat accepted a handshake. “Random.”

  “This looks interesting, what you’re doing.” Freja eyed the patch where Cat had worked the healing spell.

  “Oh – that! Yeah, it was just...I was just planting some seeds.”

  “I see,” Freja said, albeit with a dubious smirk.

  Cat shifted, looking around the park. “You know I was in Norway once, for a holiday. Loved it!”

  Freja’s expression lightened. “Really?”

  “Yep. My mum’s ex was from there. Maybe you know him, Odmar?”

  Freja looked somewhat puzzled. “Do you remember his family name?”

  Cat ruptured with laughter. “Oh my gods! I was kidding – obviously! His surname was Hahn though, I remember because it sounded like hand.” She chuckled, memories drifting to the fore of her mind; of the few partners her mum had had over the years, Cat had warmed to him the most.

  She noticed Freja’s expression, frozen, much like the winter air, her eyes tinged with a faint sorrow and mouth cracked open. “Are you...okay?”

  Freja nodded curtly, her voice croaking when she tried to speak.

  “Freja’s a cool name, one of my favourite goddesses in fact.”

  She smiled again, deeply, with large and polished teeth and slight dimples on her cheeks. “You like mythology?”

  “Like it? I love it! I’m pretty much a pagan.”

  “How interesting,” said Freja, her eyes glinting; they had an unusual tint, with irises that went from gold to brown. She glanced at the volunteers. “Are you working here?”

  “Oh no, just volunteering, with my mum.” Cat nodded towards the flower beds. “I'm at school, still, final year - thank the gods. What about you?”

  “I finished school last year, but I want to study classics and philosophy. That’s why I’m here, looking at some colleges.”

  Cat bulged her eyes. “Huh, didn’t think anyone would come from Norway to study here. Cool subjects though.”

  Freja smirked. “I thought it would be something different; I haven’t exactly travelled much.”

  “Oh, me neither! So where’re you staying?”

  Freja looked back to the heavily clouded north. “With my nana. She lives just up there, near the hills.”

  “Cavehill?”

  Freja nodded.

  “Oh my gods! That’s where I live! We should so hang out.”

  Freja looked somewhat bemused, perhaps hesitant.

  “I mean, if you don’t have any friends already? Wouldn’t want you feeling all lonerish.” Cat pulled the rough gloves from her hands and rummaged in her jacket. “Here, take my number.”

  “Oh, I don’t have a phone with me.”

  “Serious?” Cat caught sight of her mum then, standing from the flower beds and waving her over. “Well, do you need a lift home? We’ll be going the same way.”

  Freja wavered, her dimpled smile returning. “I suppose, if that’s okay?”

  “Of course it’s okay!” said Cat, with a ridiculous grin. “Come on!” She hastily gathered her things and loped across the path, Freja in tow.

  Darkness had triumphed over the low-lying Sun. Candles glowed brighter, bringing warm light to the small bedroom. Sara had been lying on the giant beanbag for almost two hours, exhausted from reading and note-taking. Cat lit more incense, jutting from the mouth of a small wooden face that looked like a goblin; it smelt minty.

  “There! Should help keep us alert.”

  Sara watched the enigmatic new girl, Freja, who appeared to take interest in a set of posters. For some reason, Cat had placed them in golden frames and hung them up like prized certificates.

  Sara returned to the mind-map for her Classics essay but glanced up at Freja aga
in, recalling Cat’s introduction about her big move from Norway and plans to attend university. “So, w-what part of Norway did you say you’re from?” She ignored the stumble.

  “I didn’t.” Freja turned to face her. “I lived outside a town called Bergen, near the coast.” She gazed upwards, with a gentle smile, as if viewing an image.

  Sara tried to think of another concise question. “That’s nice, must be really different to here.”

  “In certain ways - the mountains are smaller!” She laughed, alone. “But it’s green, like home and the people are friendly too. And it’s nice to still be near the sea.”

  Freja returned to the posters and Sara ruffled the large pillow that always lay near the beanbag; it felt soft and warm, like fur, like her rabbit Bugsy. She read over her notes again, distracted by thoughts of Norway with its giant mountain ranges and extensive pine forests.

  “You know, Sara’s mum’s from Sri Lanka,” said Cat, looking over.

  “Oh, yeah, originally, but I was born in England. My dad’s from there. We only moved to Belfast recently.”

  “How interesting,” Freja said, “you must have a fascinating background. Did your mother practice Buddhism?”

  Cat had made a similar enquiry when they first met, although she’d an obvious interest in the spiritual. “She did, but she’s Christian now. I mean, I was raised Christian so I’ve never really asked about it.” She noted the five-pointed stars again, hanging in various places, the dream-catchers and peculiar decks of cards, the neat arrangement of crystals on the waist-high table, sheathed by a purple cloth, with the funny symbols that Cat seemed to draw everywhere.

  Freja traced a finger over one of the posters. “These are very interesting, Cat. Are you Wiccan?”

  That word seemed to echo in Sara’s ear. She’d heard it before, somewhere, perhaps at church, but it instantly brought to mind the word witch.

  “Well, not Wiccan exactly. I mean, I do spell-craft and stuff. My mum gets a bit freaked out by it all, bless her, but it’s probably something to do with my dad – not that I ever knew him, but I think he was into the occult.”