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Wardstone was also given. There were smaller rocks surrounding it, half buried in the ground.
    My master walked right up to it and put his left hand against the wall of stone that rose into the sky before him. “Place your palm against it, too,” he commanded.
    I obeyed.
    â€œTell me what you feel,” he said.
    â€œIt’s warm to the touch.”
    It was strange but true. There was no doubt. Despite the chill, damp air, the rock seemed to be radiating heat.
    â€œAnd what else, lad? There’s something else. Can you tell what it is?”
    At first I couldn’t work out what he meant, but then I became aware that everything seemed very still. I was breathing very slowly . . . unnaturally slowly. I could feel the pulse of blood circulating through my body, too. It was so slow that I thought for a moment that my heart had stopped.
    I snatched my hand away from the rock, and immediately my breathing and heart rate returned to normal. When I put my hand back on it, everything slowed again. The Spook beckoned me away from the Wardstone, and I followed him for about twenty paces.
    â€œDid you feel it?” he asked, coming to a halt.
    â€œIt slows time. The Wardstone slows down time!” I exclaimed excitedly.
    â€œAnd you can do that too, lad, can’t you? But what’s the difference here?”
    My ability to slow down time was a gift that had saved my life on many occasions when fighting servants of the dark—most importantly the Fiend, who had the same power. I’d prevented him from moving for long enough for us to launch our attack on him.
    But what was the difference here? I thought carefully before replying.
    â€œWhen I use my gift, I’m in control. Everything slows down, but I’m free to move. Here it’s the Wardstone slowing time, affecting everything around it. But, of course, being a big chunk of rock, it can’t move.”
    â€œCan’t it, lad? Are you sure?”
    â€œHow can a rock move?”
    â€œMaybe it can move through time. I’m just speculating, but it’s a possibility. I’ll tell you the reason for my thinking. There are eyewitness accounts from some who’ve climbed to the summit of this big hill to find, to their astonishment, that the rock wasn’t there. It had vanished. So where would it go, lad, but into a different time?”
    â€œWere they reliable witnesses?”
    â€œSome were fools, that’s for sure,” the Spook answered with a smile, “but others were sensible folk not much given to flights of fantasy. But it’s a coincidence, isn’t it—a rock that goes by your name also being able to affect time? And isn’t it strange that this should be the location specified for the ritual? There’s a lot needs explaining. . . . Now I’m going to show you something that’s also strange.”
    My master led the way widdershins around the rock. He came to a sudden halt, staring at its surface, then moved closer. For a moment I thought he intended to place his hand against it again. Instead he pointed with his index finger.
    â€œRead that,” he commanded.
    I approached it and saw that words had been carved into the rock face. It looked a little like a poem, because it was set out in a pattern and not all the lines were of equal length. The inscription was partly covered in moss, making sections of it hard to read, so it took me a few moments to decipher it while my master waited patiently.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  The highest point in the County
is marked by mystery.
It is said that a man died there in a
great storm, while binding an evil
that threatened the whole world.
Then the ice came again, and when it
retreated, even the shapes of the
hills and the names of the towns
in the valleys changed.
Now, at that highest point on
the fells, no trace remains of what
was done so long ago,
but its name has endured.
They call it
The