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Beansprout followed close behind Woodsmoke and Brenna, as Woodsmoke led the way to the cave entrance. The rain was a steady drizzle, the mist was getting thicker, and dusk was falling. She could see only a few feet in front of her.
Woodsmoke’s movements were uncanny. He slipped like a ghost through the landscape; she could hardly see him. Brenna was easier to see, but silent, and Beansprout moved quickly to keep up, trying to keep her footing in the wet. For a few seconds they disappeared and she was alone, with just the shush of rain to keep her company. And then she was aware of noise – disembodied voices, shouting. She stopped, uncertain of what to do. And then Brenna and Woodsmoke reappeared, emerging wraith-like from the mist.
Woodsmoke spoke first. “Something’s happened. I think I heard someone say that they’ve disappeared. There’s a least half a dozen Cervini by the cave entrance. Wait here.”
A cold feeling of dread crept through Beansprout. “Who’s disappeared?”
But he’d gone.
Beansprout and Brenna looked at each other anxiously. They stood for a few minutes, listening to the muffled voices. Despite her heavy cloak, rain trickled down Beansprout’s neck and caught on her eyelashes. She brushed the water away impatiently.
There was a break in the voices and she heard Woodsmoke speaking. Had they caught him? She stepped forward involuntarily, but Brenna caught her arm, gesturing at Beansprout to listen. The voices sounded calm, even reasonable. What was going on?
And then Woodsmoke appeared again. “Come on. It’s all right.”
He turned and led them a short distance around mounds of rock and ferns, until they emerged in front of the cave entrance where a group of Cervini stood talking. They fell silent as the three approached, and Woodsmoke said, “These are the friends I was telling you about. It’s just us, and our friends you saw in the cave. We want to help.”
Despite the wet and the chill, the Cervini wore only sleeveless jackets and trousers made of animal skins, and their feet were bare. There were both men and women; some had long hair, some short, and they all had curious markings on their skin.
A tall grizzled man with grey hair stepped forward. He nodded at Brenna and Beansprout and said, “Woodsmoke tells me you are friends of Arthur, the man I found in the caves.” He studied Brenna for a few seconds longer and then smiled in recognition. “You are Aerikeen. Fellow shapeshifters are always welcome.” Then his smile dropped. “I fear it’s too late. They’ve disappeared and the cave is empty. They vanished before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do.”
Beansprout’s feeling of dread grew stronger. Surely they couldn’t have just vanished? “Was Tom with him?”
“The young man? Yes, he’s gone too.”
“Can we see the cave?” Woodsmoke asked.
He shrugged. “If you want. Our shaman is there now. I’m Rek, the one who first recognised Nimue. I wish now I had never laid eyes on her.” He sighed as he turned. “Follow me and I’ll tell you what happened. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d swear someone had made it up.”
Rek led them along the winding passage, and at the cave entrance, he stopped. “This is where I was, watching it all. And there,” he said, pointing to the centre of the room where a dreadlocked man stood within a circle of burning torches, “was where they were standing with Nimue. She was supposed to be releasing the spell to bring Merlin back, but the torches burned blood red and they disappeared. Gone. Then the torches went out.”
Rek headed to the shaman’s side. “Nerian, these are Arthur’s friends, come to help.”
Nerian was examining something in his hands, but he looked up, his dark eyes bleak. “Your help is welcome, but if I’m honest, I’m not sure what we can do. I’ve been trying to work out what Nimue has done. These are the herbs she used - the remains of those herbs she left at the entrance.”
“May I?” asked Woodsmoke, holding out his hands.
Nerian handed them over. “I recognise wormwood, sage and vervain, but there is something else in there I’m not familiar with.”
Woodsmoke sniffed the bundle and wrinkled his nose. “It’s bitter.”
“Yes, I’ll work it out,” Nerian said.
“You didn’t know the spell, I presume?”
“No. If I’d realised what was happening, I’d have stopped her.” He looked around the cave. “There is nothing else here to help.”
“Could you repeat the spell, if we had the herbs?” Brenna asked.
He shook his head, uncertain. “I don’t think so. I couldn’t hear what she was saying. She was very careful to remain quiet.”
Brenna exchanged a worried glance with Woodsmoke. “Do you mind if we look around?”
“Go ahead.”
Brenna changed form and flew up and around the cave, while Beansprout joined Woodsmoke as he paced around, grim faced and irritable.
“What are we looking for?” she asked him. The cave was uniformly bare; the floor a mixture of rock and earth, and moisture trickled down the rock walls.
“I honestly have no idea. Something that looks like it doesn’t belong here I suppose.” He paused, struggling to contain his temper. “I knew something like this would happen! Arthur should have waited.”
“But even if we’d been here, we couldn’t have stopped this. We’d have either disappeared with them, or watched them, like Rek did. At least we’re able to help now.”
Woodsmoke just grunted.
They continued their search, but the cave yielded nothing; whatever was here had been hidden very well. They returned to the Nerian and Rek who were deep in hushed conversation.
“This is hopeless,” Woodsmoke said to them. “We can’t find anything! Brenna?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, sorry.”
Panic had started its insidious spread through Beansprout. “Nerian, I know you can’t do Nimue’s spell, but can you break it?”
“Usually only the witch who cast it can break it,” he said. “Unless death intervenes. But I’ve had an idea. I’m going to summon Herne.”
“Who’s that?” asked Beansprout.
“The God of the wilds, the moors, the forests, the ancient rocks; his magic is earthy and powerful. It is rumoured that Merlin was like a child to him. I feel sure he will release him.”
Woodsmoke frowned. “Surely he would have released Merlin a lot sooner than now?”
“But we never knew what had really happened to Merlin before. And besides,” Nerian said, sounding slightly offended, “Gods do not usually intervene in our affairs.”
“And we summon him how?” asked Brenna, ever practical.
“Here, where the spell has been worked. But first I must return to the Great Hall, there are things I need to collect for the ritual. And we must tell the others what has happened. I’ll be back within a day.”
Woodsmoke nodded his agreement. “I’ll go and fetch the horses and we’ll sleep in the first cave tonight. At least we’ll be dry.”
As the others made their way out of the cave, Beansprout paused within the circle of burning torches. Whatever magic Nimue had used was impressive, and Beansprout had a thrill of excitement as she realised what she wanted to do with her new life in the Other.
She was going to learn magic.
