The Dark Is Rising by Susan Cooper

“Merriman, it was my fire that brought the Walker to me, wasn’t it, and the Walker had the Sign.”
    â€œThe Walker was waiting for you, stupid boy,” said Merriman irritably. “I told you that he would find you, and you did not remember. Remember now. In this our magic, every smallest word has a weight and a meaning. Every word that I say to you — or that any other Old One may say. The Walker? He has been waiting for you to be born, and to stand alone with him and command the Sign from him, for time past your imagining. You did that well, I will say — it was a problem to bring him to the point of giving up the Sign when the time came. Poor soul. He betrayed the Old Ones once, long ago, and this was his doom.” His voice softened a little. “It has been a hard age for him, the carrying of the second Sign. He has one more part in our work, before he may have rest, if he chooses. But that is not yet.”
    They both looked at the motionless figure of the Walker, still standing caught in frozen movement at the side of the road as Maggie Barnes had left him.
    â€œThat’s an awfully uncomfortable position,” Will said.
    â€œHe feels nothing,” said Merriman. “Not a muscle will even grow stiff. Some small powers the Old Ones and the people of the Dark have in common, and one of them is this catching a man out of Time, for as long as is necessary. Or in the case of the Dark, for as long as they find it amusing.”
    He pointed a finger at the immobile, shapeless form, and spoke some soft rapid words that Will did not hear, and the Walker relaxedinto life like a figure in a moving film that has been stopped and then started again. Staring wide-eyed, he looked at Merriman and opened his mouth, and made a curious dry, speechless sound.
    â€œGo,” Merriman said. The old man cringed away, clasping his flapping garments around him, and shambled off at a half-run up the narrow path. Watching him as he went, Will blinked, then peered hard, then rubbed his eyes; for the Walker seemed to be fading, growing strangely thinner, so that you could see the trees through his body. Then all at once he was gone, like a star blotted out by a cloud.
    Merriman said, “My doing, not his own. He deserves peace for a while, I think, in another place than this. That is the power of the Old Ways, Will. You would have used the trick to escape from the witch-girl, very easily, if you had known how. You will learn that, and the proper names and much else very soon now.”
    Will said curiously, “What is your proper name?”
    The dark eyes glinted at him from inside the hood. “Merriman Lyon. I told you when we met.”
    â€œBut I think that if that had really been your proper name, as an Old One, you would not have told me it,” Will said. “At any rate, not out loud.”
    â€œYou are learning already,” Merriman said cheerfully. “Come, it grows dark.”
    They set off together down the lane. Will trotted beside the striding, cloaked figure, clutching his bags and boxes. They spoke little, but Merriman’s hand was always there to catch him if he stumbled at any hollow or drift. As they came out at the far curve of the track into the greater breadth of Huntercombe Lane, Will saw his brother Max walking briskly towards them.
    â€œLook, there’s Max!”
    â€œYes,” Merriman said.
    Max called, gaily waving, and then he was close. “I was just coming to meet you off the bus,” he said. “Mum was getting in a bit of a tizz because her baby boy was late.”
    â€œOh, for goodness’ sake,” Will said.
    â€œWhy were you coming that way?” Max waved in the direction of Tramps’ Alley.
    â€œWe were just —” Will began, and as he turned his head to includeMerriman in the remark he stopped, so abruptly that he bit his tongue.
    Merriman was gone. In the snow where he had been standing a moment