The Stone by Felicity Edwards

We’d been tramping these hills for hours. The views were spectacular, but we were on a mission. We had to find the Gab Stone. 

You might ask what it was. I mean, with such a strange name, why was it important? And more importantly, to whom? 

To us. 

Permit me to give you a brief background. This stone, which is nothing to look at, has the most notable qualities. It has been behind the success of many orators, poets and writers. Once it was in the centre of a stone circle in the west of our country. They used it for ancient rituals before the invaders came and called our rituals heathen. They brought their beliefs with them and converted many of our people. 

Eventually, the circle and the stone were abandoned to all but a few diehards of storytellers and shamans. To be named as one you have to be crowned with a Garland of mistletoe and holly at midnight on Midwinters’ night while seated on the Gab Seat. 

The invaders dealt what they thought was a deadly blow. They levelled the stone circle to reduce the power. It didn’t. They took the Gab Stone and hurled it aside. We are looking for it. We have a vague idea what it looks like, but do not know where to look. After months of scrying, a priest decided the stone was at the top of a hill. So here we are, climbing yet another hill. My body ached, my muscles felt like jelly. I flopped down onto the grass, but it was hard, it was a rock. 

My companions shouted in joy. 

“You’re sitting on it!” 

I jumped up and sure enough, there, outlined was the rock, the Gab Stone. I could be crowned after all! 

Published in Issue #9

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