The Curse of Aggara

By Jayn Winslade

Jayn E Winslade is a writer and dance artist. She trained at the London School of Contemporary Dance, the Laban Centre London, and Worcester University UK. As a dancer and choreographer she has performed in a variety of genres from Holiday on Ice to contemporary dance & music productions by the legendary Robert Plant.
It was her partner Simon who persuaded her to complete her first book and forge ahead with getting published. 'Emily & Jen Dance for Deeron,' was self-published but finally Mirador Publishing saw the potential of her work and the Chronicles of the Golden Light were born. Jayn fuses her passions for dance, music and literature in her writing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jayn Winslade
• Release date: Apr 14, 2020

Jayn Winslade

Born in Birmingham UK, Jayn E Winslade is a writer and dance artist. She trained at the London School of Contemporary Dance, the Laban Centre London, and Worcester University UK. As a dancer and choreographer she has performed in a variety of genres from Holiday on Ice to contemporary dance & music productions by the legendary Robert Plant.It was her partner Simon who persuaded her to complete her first book and forge ahead with getting published. 'Emily & Jen Dance for Deeron,' was self-published but finally Mirador Publishing saw the potential of her work and the Chronicles of the Golden Light were born.

Book preview

Chronicles of the Golden Light

The Curse of Aggara

Jayn E Winslade

First published in Great Britain 2018 by Mirador Publishing

Copyright © 2018 by Jayn E Winslade.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission of the publishers or author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

First edition: 2018

Any reference to real names and places are purely fictional and are constructs of the author. Any offence the references produce is unintentional and in no way reflects the reality of any locations or people involved.

A copy of this work is available through the British Library.

To Simon who respected me as a writer long before I was one.

Books in the series: Chronicles of The Golden Light.

Power of the  Six

The wisdom and truthContained in this bookIs all that remains.

                        Mira's Book of Shadows

Wandiacate : (Wand-ee-a-cate) A person of mortal origin who uses dance to collect and carry with them the Golden Light of Goodness. Without Wandiacates the White Light of Evil would rule over both the mortal and the magical world with disastrous consequences for us all.

Wandiacatum : The space that exists between the mortal and magical world. It is the home of the White Light of Evil and the Golden Light of Goodness.

Contents

Prologue  -  Jack

Chapter 1:    Ghosts in the Garden

Chapter 2:    Peggy Poole

Chapter 3:    Tears on the Moon

Chapter 4:    Jen

Chapter 5:    Peggy's Tale

Chapter 6:    Tuo Kool

Chapter 7:    Wandiacates must not Danssss

Chapter 8:    The Dulyach

Chapter 9:    Magic in the Dark of the Moon

Chapter 10:  The Wandiacates Dance

Chapter 11:    Wandiacatum

Chapter 12:  Mournful Eye

Chapter 13:  Wophee

Chapter 14:  Whispered Words of Surena

Chapter 15:  The Caithriss

Chapter 16:  Braska Inn

Chapter 17:  O.n the Bank of the Bonny Bonny Blue

Chapter 18:  U.nder the Grey Sky at Moonstone Mount

Chapter 19:  V.illage of the Groaning Stones

Chapter 20:  T.wo to the Mortal World Must Go

Chapter 21:  Paint the Moon

Chapter 22:  T.wo to Diamond Isle Must Go

Chapter 23:  T.o the Ghosts of Nightly Crossing

Chapter 24:  The Wandiacates Dance

Chapter 25:  The Trial

Chapter 26:  O.U.V.T.T.T.

Guide to swan language.

Jack

Jack pulled his long threadbare coat around him and scratched his cold red nose on the rough woolen sleeve. The tall melancholy gravestones of St Leonards Church loomed dark and menacing in the fading autumn light. Whisked from the ground by a frosty artful wind, crisp golden leaves and sycamore helicopters swirled in the mist, falling in heaps against their cold grey backs. Narrowing his eyes Jack watched a dog sniffing suspiciously around one particular gravestone. Clumps of muddy soil scattered onto the cobbled path as the golden retriever scratched away at the earth. Jack was annoyed. For one thing this graveyard was his home, and for another the living had no respect for the dead! Sliding his frozen hand out of his pocket, he clicked his fingers.

SNAP! The crisp sound, like the breaking of a twig, cut through the cold air. The dog looked straight at Jack. 'Stop it,' Jack whispered sharply. Obediently the dog sat, eyes wide in anticipation of further orders. His tail thumped the mound of earth, his long pink tongue steamed in the chilly air. Jack felt sure this was a friendly dog. 'It ’ s all right for you,' he chided the dog as if it were a small child, 'you don ’ t have to live here.' The dog stared back at Jack, thumping his tail even harder on the ground. Jack's grey eyes scanned the dilapidated, time-withered churchyard. There was no sign of an owner. Accustomed to being alone all of the time, Jack was beginning to like this visitor. 'It's ok. You're alright you are.' Heartened by the words of approval, and with tail wagging furiously, the dog turned his wise golden head to study the old gravestone. Jack's eyes darted back and forth from the dog to the stone. Of all the forgotten graves in the churchyard why had the dog chosen this one? The inscription had been wiped away by evil forces in the churchyard long ago. It would take a very special type of magic to make it reappear. Not even Jack could do that. 'Come away, there's nothing to see!'

Too late! Jack felt his blood freeze, as from the dark ancient granite a long forgotten message slowly began to appear. The dog stared hard, as if written by an invisible hand in black ink, spindly words materialized on the grey stone. Jack gasped at the sight of his own epitaph, wet and glimmering in the cold grey light.

Jack Green

Passed away on the night of Halloween

The dog nestled his soft wet nose in Jack's cold hand. Kneeling on the frosty ground, Jack laid his cheek against the dog's head, felt the warmth of his body and heard the beating of his heart. He's not a ghost dog , he assured himself. Rotating the damp leather collar he found a silver disk bearing the name Bill and a telephone number. 'Hi Bill,' he whispered, staring into Bill's brown eyes. Beyond the graveyard, deep within a wood, a great monster of a bird began beating its wings. Jack held Bill's stare. There was no need to investigate, he already knew that sound did not emanate from a natural living creature. Nor did it mean him well. Bill's eyes gazed at Jack with a deep sincerity and loyalty that he had almost forgotten existed. Suddenly, as if hit by an invisible bolt, Jack realized that this was the moment he had been waiting for. From this moment the long awaited change would begin to happen. At last, after all the lonely years of waiting, the Wandiacates had arrived. 'Wandiacates,' he whispered. 'Wandiacates.' The ghostly wings, angry at the sound of that single word, beat the air so hard that the gravestones trembled, the sky blackened with shrieking birds and the ground beneath him began to shudder. Jack's face broke into a huge satisfied grin. He had been told about Wandiacates but he had waited so long for them to arrive he was secretly afraid that they might not exist. Alone in this graveyard, all he could do was hope that they would eventually come, for only they could destroy the evil existing in the world of magic. Only they could do it because they have the greatest power of all, magic created through dance. Long and alone he had waited for their arrival, not knowing who would come; boy, girl, man or woman. What he did know was that once they arrived his task was to help them find the Golden Light of Goodness and carry it to Diamond Isle. He had no idea how they would achieve that, but he did know that if they failed all that would remain in the mortal world, and in the world of magic, would be evil and terror. The waiting was over. The task was about to begin. Jack bowed his head to Bill in humble recognition that he was no ordinary mortal's dog. Bill was fully aware that Jack Green was no ordinary mortal boy.

Chapter 1

Ghosts in the Garden

Emily gazed at her house from the car window. The street where she had lived all her life lay quiet. Here and there curtains twitched as nosey neighbours checked on the progress of the King family moving out. No one came to say goodbye. It was like that here. Identical houses lined both sides of the street as far as the eye could see, the road between them so narrow you could almost see what the people opposite were having for tea! It was a street where everybody knew what everybody was doing, but nobody cared.

Few goodbyes meant few regrets. Emily hadn't exactly had the greatest success at school, where to be worthy of any recognition you had to excel either academically or in sport. Maintaining a dismal average in everything had been a struggle for Emily. She was well liked by the teachers but they considered her to be a bit of a flake. Emily had worked as hard as she could and no one at the school had any idea of how much the lack of recognition for her efforts had hurt.

Mrs Watson, her dancing teacher, was the only special person at school that Emily actually liked. That was because dancing was the one thing Emily could do well. Anyone who ever saw her dance would agree, Emily was a truly captivating performer. This was providing that she didn't ever dance with her best friend Jen, for then the dance conjured a magical force so strong it carried them away from this world and into the world of magic. Emily's dad slammed the car door in one last defiant gesture to the neighbours. 'Right we're off!'

Following the removal van, the King family rolled away from Victor Road, on a cold wet October morning, at the start of half term.

Tracing a decorative W on the window, Emily thought about Jen and the magic power they shared. This was a secret closely protected by the two of them and had served in its way as a means of protecting Emily from the sporty stars and the swots who thought of her as dull and stupid. Emily had gone through a rough time with these kids, before she knew she was a Wandiacate with a rare magical gift. This was a closely guarded secret, because no one likes you to be different. People just want you to be as boring and dull as they are. Even so, when Emily discovered her power she had been tempted to use it against them, but she didn't. They are only mortals after all.

She drew a big heart around the W . It was good to have the opportunity to make a fresh start. Her dad was about to start a new job, she had a new baby brother and her mum didn ’ t have to go back to work to help make ends meet. Happily an unexpected improvement in the family income meant that things were better for the Kings, at last. The only worrying thing was her mum being alone with Charlie in the new house, while she was at school and her dad was at work. Emily had been struck by the strangeness of Poole House the very first time her parents took her to see it. As they drove past the churchyard, its black glistening iron railings made her remember the tall imposing gates at Poole House, an ancient wild and neglected grey flint house at the end of a long moss-ridden gravel drive. She remembered the feeling she had the first time she slowly approached the front door, the dark leaded windows watching her like cold grey eyes. Emily had hung back, in fear of a lonely ghost reaching out and dragging her up the dark winding staircase.

Emily's dad didn't believe in ghosts or anything to do with the supernatural, so when he saw Poole House he simply welcomed the challenge it presented and offered the estate agent a knock down price. That was in September and here they were at the end of October moving in! It had all happened so quickly. Emily couldn't believe that they were actually going to live there , for not only had it truly gone to rack and ruin, it contained an eeriness that made you dread being there alone.

She shuddered at the thought and tried to forget about it by gazing out of the window at the shades of black, grey and dappled orange, flickering in the light of the early morning street lamps. Empty and deserted, the playground where she used to play when she was little sped by. Emily felt a sudden pang in her stomach, as she realized that everything she was leaving behind was familiar; everything she was going to was strange and hostile.

Of course, if on that first visit to Poole House she hadn't decided to go off into the garden on her own she wouldn't know about the ghost and wouldn't be so full of dread now. But the artful red brick path had called her to follow it into the wild overgrown garden. Slipping out of the back door she had found herself face to face with the crumbling statue of an angel. Her stained white face and broken wings were stark evidence of many passing years.

Before Emily had gone very far she started to feel an unearthly presence close behind her. It was a ghost; of that she was sure. She tried to catch it off guard by turning quickly, then very slowly, but the ghost was way too quick for her. Emily concluded that what she had here was a very crafty ghost. Then suddenly, from further along the path, out of sight beyond the tall overgrown weeds, she heard the sound of enormous flapping wings and her heart missed a beat!

'You all right love? You cold?' Emily's mum was peering round to check on her and Charlie who was fast asleep in his cot. 'You look cold love. I've got a blanket here if you want it.' Realizing that she had been daydreaming about Poole House, Emily tried to act normal. 'Yeah that would be nice, thanks.' She pulled the soft cozy blanket up to her chin, but still felt as if cold water was running down her back.

Ever since that first day at the house she had consoled herself with the fact that she would have found out about the ghost eventually. At least this way she might have a chance to do something about it before her parents found out. They were so excited about moving, she didn't want anything to go wrong. Added to this is the fact that it isn't in Emily's nature to shy away from a challenge. So, undaunted by fear, through a creepy old orchard with trees so gnarled and twisted they looked like a gang of goblins, Emily had continued along the path until she arrived at a circular Victorian summerhouse. What she experienced there would have made even the bravest person quake with fear.

Pulling open the broken door she entered its dusty, cluttered, forgotten world. With an almighty CRACK the taped up windows suddenly burst open, letting in a freak wind that instantly gathered up the carpet of junk beneath her feet, sending it swirling round and round her head. Crouched and fearing for her life, Emily had watched in horror as a rocking chair spun by, followed by four old dinning room chairs, a table, an antique clock, endless rakes, spades, garden tools and pots whizzed dangerously through the air.

'What on earth is going on!' yelled her dad, banging his hands on the steering wheel in frustration. Startled back to reality once more, Emily stared at the endless rows of blurred red brake lights, stretching on and on into the distance. 'Let's see if we can find out,' said her mum, calmly turning on the radio to search for travel news. There had to be a