The Temple of the Sun Read online

  The Temple of the Sun

  Moyra Caldecott

  Mushroom eBooks

  Copyright © 1977, 2006, Moyra Caldecott

  First published in Great Britain in 1977 by Rex Collings Ltd.

  Also published by Celestial Arts in USA in 1986 and by Legend in Great Britain in 1987 as the second part of the single volume Guardians of the Tall Stones

  This eBook edition published in 2006 by Mushroom eBooks, an imprint of Mushroom Publishing, Bath, BA1 4EB, United Kingdom

  www.mushroom-ebooks.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN 1843194279

  Contents

  Introduction

  1 – The Warning and the Journey

  2 – Illusions

  3 – The Birth Of Isar

  4 – The Arrival

  5 – The Dream Test

  6 – Divination

  7 – The Arrival Of Khu-ren

  8 – The Star Test

  9 – The Haunted Mound

  10 – The Return of Wardyke

  11 – Kyra’s Inauguration

  12 – Ancient Relationships

  13 – A Wounded Friend

  14 – Wardyke’s War

  15 – The New Spear-lord

  16 – Panora’s War

  17 – Khu-ren’s Inauguration

  About Moyra Caldecott

  Books by Moyra Caldecott

  Introduction

  This is a story set in Bronze Age Britain, c.1500 BC, when the great circles of standing stones that were such a feature of the Neolithic Age, were already more than a thousand years old, yet still in use as sacred temples. Hundreds of stone circles have been found throughout Britain, the most famous today being Avebury and Stonehenge in Wiltshire. That such a homogeneous culture flourished in communities so widely separated by dense and dangerous forests, mountains, and wild and stormy seas, is extraordinary.

  The work of the mighty Temple of the Sun holds the vast complex of smaller temples across the land together under its protection, and its Priesthood has to be constantly on guard against the misuse of psychic powers by disaffected former initiates. The fell magician Wardyke rises again to wreak vengeance on those whom he believes have wronged him.

  1

  The Warning and the Journey

  The High Priest, the Lord Guiron, was in the great circle of the Temple of the Sun by himself, the dawn rituals over, the other priests and initiates departed. He too should have left and be attending to the business of the Temple.

  Something held him back.

  Something made him break his routine and pace the Tall stones around the circumference, not as a priest drawing energy from them, not as a suppliant speaking with spirits, not as Lord of the Sun in robes of splendour with the power to roam the world at will, but as an old man suddenly lonely and afraid.

  It was as though the people leaving the circle after the ceremony this particular morning drained him of his significance. He had not felt this way before, or not for many years. He had been in the circle alone many times, as High Priest it was his right, but it had always sustained him in his confidence and strength.

  Now he felt like a peasant who had wandered unwittingly into a Sacred Circle and was overwhelmed by his own smallness and in awe of the giant forces surrounding him.

  He, Guiron, Lord High Priest, was afraid.

  Afraid in his own Temple?

  Afraid of what?

  He did not know.

  The shoulders he usually carried so straight and proud were bent.

  ‘What is it?’ he kept asking himself.

  But for all his knowledge of the Mysteries, and for all the control of mind and body he had learned through the long years of priesthood, this time he was an ordinary man faced with an uneasiness to which he could not put a name, which he could not define.

  He thought of entering one of the two inner circles within the great circle which were reserved for very special occasions. Perhaps their extra strength would give him back his stature as a Priest.

  But as he approached the northern one, it was as though he were held back.

  ‘Not now,’ a voice that was not his own voice spoke within his head. ‘Not now.’

  Feeling himself an exile he stumbled slightly and returned to the outer circle. Beyond the immense standing stones that carried the flow of spirit power from earth to sky, from sky to earth, the high ridge, walled with rough chalk blocks, rose above him, cutting him off from the rest of his fellow men. It was designed to isolate the Temple for its work, to concentrate its energies and keep intruders out, and he now felt as much a prisoner as a small beetle would that had fallen on its back within a steep-sided hole.

  There were things in his past that he did not wish to think about. He pushed them back into the darkness. Long years of service as Priest of light had surely undone whatever harm he might have done once long ago!

  But from the crevices of darkness in his mind, unease was stirring and this time he could not put it down.

  With no one to observe him he allowed himself the luxury of tears and put his head against a Tall stone to the east of the circle, a stone for which he had always felt a particular affinity. He put his arms around it as though it were a man and could give him comfort.

  ‘Lord,’ he whispered, ‘Lord of light. Help me.’

  He tried to clear his head of the irrational and disorderly murmurings of his mind.

  Where was his training now?

  Slowly order came.

  Slowly the clamour of his fear died down.

  He tried to visualize, to call before him a picture of what it was that threatened him.

  He could feel a low drumming or throbbing in his head. Whether it was from within himself or from within the rock he pressed himself so closely against, he could not tell.

  He listened to it and it seemed to him at last that it was the sound of the ocean, beating relentlessly against the shore, the ocean rising and falling, swelling and subsiding, and upon its vastness there was a small seed, a fragile boat tossed among the waves, that bore within it something that threatened change to him and the Great Temple that lay around him.

  The image was not clear.

  The menace was not strong.

  It was a hint, a stirring, a whisper ... but it was there.

  He strained for a clearer vision.

  It would not come.

  But pain entered his body from the north, so it was from the north that he expected the threat to come.

  He pulled back from the stone with a sudden movement and with a surge of great determination he pulled himself to his full height as a Priest, his eyes sparked with his old fire of office and, turning his face to the north, he spoke these words aloud and with great authority.

  ‘You who come from the north to bring disruption and change to this man and this place, turn back. Turn back! There is no welcome for you here!’

  He tried with all the force of will and thought at his command to reject the unknown intruders and turn them from their course.

  His will was strong, the beam of his thought powerful, but the deep and featureless blue of the sky into which he thrust his desperate barb gave no sign that it had reached its mark.

  ‘So be it,’ he thought, and turned to leave the circle. ‘I have tried, and I will try again!’

  * * * *

  In the north Kyra stood upon the cliff she had just climbed and stared at the sea that lay impassively silver, ominously vast.

  They had sailed in their frail homemade boat since the first stirrings of Spring and the journey that lay behind them, which had seemed so long
and painful, was nothing to the journey that lay ahead of them.

  She could see her brother Karne, tall and fair and bronzed, out beyond the rock line of the shore fishing for their lunch. Fern, his wife, who was heavy with child, was gathering driftwood on the pebbled beach for their cooking fire. When Kyra was with them the community of their love gave them each strength and comfort, but from the height of the cliff top they seemed very small and vulnerable against the immense panorama that stretched as far as she could see and then... beyond...

  The joy of purpose that had sustained her in their travels since they first set out suddenly deserted her, and she looked at the huge landscape of impenetrable forest behind her and the seascape that lay forever and forever below her, and a sharp cold feeling of fear stabbed her heart.

  ‘How is it possible?’ she thought in panic. ‘How dare we venture into this vastness and hope to find our way!’

  Appalled at the foolhardiness of their journey, the immense scope of it, and the inadequacy of their preparation for it, she decided they must turn back at once to their comfortable little village where everything was known and loved, understanding and achievement easier.

  ‘Karne!’ she called. ‘Fern!’

  She must tell them at once before it was too late and they were lost forever!

  But no matter how loud she shouted the thin whistle of her voice was blown backwards on to the land and dispersed among the tough coastal grasses and flowers that lived on the thin crust of earth above the unfathomable dark rock.

  ‘Karne!’ she called again. ‘Fern!’

  But there was no way they could hear her.

  She started to scramble down the cliff, loose pieces of rock and earth scattering under her feet and hands. Sea birds shrieking with indignation flew up from hidden ledges and her heart began pumping with an urgent and powerful fear.

  She must be careful.

  On the way up, so intent on the moment by moment examination of the beauty of the rocks and the lichens nearest to her, she had not noticed how sheer the cliff was. Now, looking down, she was shocked at the danger of the descent.

  Karne and Fern looked up on hearing the pebbles rolling down the cliff and saw Kyra coming down too fast for safety.

  They both gasped and called out.

  Fern ran immediately over the sharp and uneven rocks, the child lying within her body making her progress clumsy and painful. Karne, thinking that Kyra was being pursued, ran back to the boat to fetch his sling catapult and stood high upon a rock where he could see further up the cliff, the stone in his sling held back, the leather thong taut, ready for action.

  But it soon became clear Kyra was alone. Whatever was driving her to such careless speed was not visible to their eyes.

  She slid the final slope in a flurry of stones and landed in a heap at Fern’s feet, considerably bruised and shaken, her skin grazed in many places, but otherwise unharmed.

  Karne was angry.

  He raged for several moments at her recklessness.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she brought out breathlessly, and repeated it when his words continued the bruising she had just suffered from the cliff, as Fern helped her dust herself off and wash the open places clean with sea water.

  ‘What were you trying to do?’ Karne demanded at last indignantly.

  ‘I tried to call you from the cliff top,’ she said miserably, smarting as the salty water touched the open grazes.

  ‘We did not hear you,’ Fern said gently.

  ‘Of course we did not!’ Karne exclaimed, looking at the height of the cliff. ‘How could we possibly have heard you?’

  ‘I know. It was foolish. It just seemed so urgent...’

  She hesitated. Things were not so clear at the bottom of the cliff as they had been at the top.

  ‘What was so urgent?’ Karne asked sternly.

  ‘I thought ... we ought ... to turn back,’ Kyra said in a low voice, aware that this would not be received well by Karne.

  They stared at her.

  ‘Turn back! Why?’ Karne demanded.

  ‘It just seemed...’ Kyra’s voice was losing conviction every moment, ‘at the top of the cliff looking at how huge the ocean is and thinking about the journey... it just... all seemed... impossible!’

  ‘But the Lords of the Sun told you to make the journey!’ Fern cried. She herself would not have been sorry to turn back, but she knew Kyra had been commanded to attend the Temple of the Sun to study for the priesthood. Without Karne’s help and protection she could not make the journey, and without Karne, she, Fern, was not prepared to live. So their journey had become her journey.

  * * * *

  Kyra was silent.

  Karne was silent too. His anger was gone. He knew his sister well and the burdens she had to bear, the fears she faced from time to time.

  ‘It will not be an easy journey,’ he said, quietly now. ‘But it is necessary.’

  ‘Karne...’ Kyra said in a very small voice.

  ‘Yes,’ he said gently.

  ‘Sometimes I think I am not fit ... It seems to me I may have misunderstood. It is very possible that I misunderstood,’ she pleaded.

  ‘I do not think so, my sister,’ Karne said soberly.

  ‘Think back on all that has happened,’ Fern said. ‘You know you have been chosen! You know you have special powers not many people have! Powers that could and should be trained for use within the priesthood.’

  ‘But,’ Kyra said sadly, ‘there are so many ordinary things I want to do. Surely if I were fit to be a priest I would have my mind on higher matters all the time?’

  ‘You are not a priest yet,’ Fern reminded her. ‘There will be years of training.’

  ‘But I do not want to reach the point where ordinary things do not matter to me any more!’

  ‘And I do not think you ever will reach that point,’ Karne said seriously. ‘You are training to be a priest, not a god. Maal still enjoyed ordinary things. Maal even made mistakes. Remember?’

  Maal was their friend and teacher, the old priest of their community whom they had loved and trusted, and who had been cruelly ousted and then destroyed by the false but powerful priest-magician Wardyke.

  ‘Maal always said the universe is made up of ordinary things,’ Fern said. ‘It is in our seeing of them, our appreciation of them, that they become extra-ordinary, that they take on splendour and magic. So you will not have to give up ordinary things. They will just become for you less ‘ordinary’. You will have more reality, not less!’

  Kyra was somewhat comforted, but the sight of all that endless ocean, that endless land, that she had seen from the top of the cliff came back to her. She felt again that sudden cold twinge of fear.

  ‘How will we ever find our way?’ she said, tears coming to her eyes. ‘Oh, Karne, everything is so huge, and we are so small!’

  He put his hands on her shoulders and the warmth of the contact made her feel less small, less alone.

  ‘There is no point in thinking about it like that,’ he said briskly after a pause, ‘there is a fire to be made, fish to be roasted. I, for one, am starving!’

  Kyra could not help smiling.

  It was so like him to busy himself with practicalities and take one step at a time! And yet he had vision too and knew when two steps were necessary.

  She looked at him with great love and trust, and then turned to help Fern with the fire.

  * * * *

  After the meal, while the other two made the boat ready for sailing, Kyra clambered over the rocks to the furthest and largest one standing almost like an island in the sea.

  She needed to think.

  She remembered Maal with aching heart and all that he had taught her before his death.

  She called on him for help. She called on the Lords of the Sun, on the spirits who lived in the realms that led to the one God who was nameless but the source of All.

  ‘Tell me what I must do!’ she cried aloud in pain, her voice becoming part of the water crashing
onto the rock, part of the rock, part of the light splintering off its surface and the dark germinating in its depths.

  Fern and Karne on the beach packing away the things in the boat simultaneously felt they heard a sound and looked up to see Kyra poised triumphantly on her rock, raised as tall as she could be, pointing with dramatic excitement to the swelling sea.

  As the eyes followed her finger they saw, rising from the sea in dark and rhythmic folds, the bodies of innumerable dolphins, plunging, rising, plunging, rising, travelling the ocean with their slow and ancient dance, and all of them moving south. Moving south!

  Kyra had her answer.

  They launched their little boat of wood and hide and followed the course they had planned to the south, keeping land always in sight to the west of them.

  * * * *

  It was during Fern’s watch one night that, for the first time, they lost all contact with the land and with their course.

  She sat huddled in her fur cape hour after hour while the other two uncomfortably and fitfully snatched some restless sleep. Karne had shown her the star she was to keep always behind them in the north and the others she was to watch progressing across the sky, the dim, dark hump of the land always to the west.

  For the first hour of her watch her eyes grew weary with the number of times she checked their direction against those frail points of light.

  But during the second hour the moon rose and she was overwhelmed by the splendour of its rising.

  Without her realizing it, and perhaps because the wind had subtly altered its direction, their little craft began to move along the spectacular silver path towards the moon. The dark and brooding ocean became transformed into a sparkling, shimmering mist of silver. ‘Moon metal’ her people often called what we now call silver, and the sea shone now with moon metal.

  Darkly the deeps may have been waiting beneath the shining ripples of the surface, but Fern was no longer conscious of them. She no longer noticed the passage of the night, the progress of the stars, the disappearance of the land shadow to the west. She saw only the moon and felt the urge to reach towards it.