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Beansprout felt disembodied as the smoke drifted through the cave, and the circle became indistinct. Nerian sat immobile by the fire, his drum on the floor in front of him. Strange shadows cast by the flames made his face appear to change shape, morphing into someone, or something else. Time had lost all meaning, and she was aware of only the drumming, her heartbeat, her breath, and the fire flickering in the centre of the room.
Then Nerian threw his head back and howled. The sound was so unearthly and unexpected that shivers rippled across her skin, the sound reaching into her very being until it seemed she was howling too. But she couldn’t move and couldn’t speak, and she couldn’t take her eyes off Nerian.
Nerian wasn’t Nerian any more. He seemed to have swelled in size, becoming huge and imposing, his chest strong and muscled, and the antlers large and many tined. His eyes were black, and he looked slowly around the room, his gaze raking through her. A scene imposed itself over the cave, flickering in and out of focus ... a grove of tall trees, mossy grass, and lichen-covered boulders, and beyond them a glinting silver tower.
Beansprout saw Tom, sitting on the far side of the fire, looking small in such an ancient place. Whatever Nerian had become stood and gazed towards the silver tower and howled again and again, until she thought she would go mad or deaf. Then he strode around the fire and reached out to Tom.
There was an enormous booming sound as if the earth itself had shattered.
The fire flared brilliantly into a column of flame, shooting high into the cave, and with another wild keening that seemed to come from all directions, a fierce wind carrying the dust of a thousand years ran through the cave, whipping Beansprout’s hair around her face and into her mouth, and she covered her eyes until it had passed. Then the fire shrank to the smallest pin-prick of light. The cave now felt as if it encompassed a universe, and the fire was the sun that burnt a galaxy away. Beansprout felt tiny, lost in the void, and she tipped forward, dizzy and terrified, having lost all sense of who and where she was; and then it was over.
The cave was just a cave again and the fire had returned to normal. Sprawled unconscious in a heap by the fire, was Nerian, and next to him were the inert bodies of Tom, Arthur, Orlas, and an old man with a long white beard.
Beansprout wasn’t quite sure of the order of what happened next, but after seconds in which everyone seemed to be in a state of immovable shock, Woodsmoke and two of the Cervini recovered and ran to the bodies in the centre of the room. Woodsmoke crouched beside Tom and then Arthur, and one of the Cervini checked Orlas, and with relief they shouted that they were still alive.
And then Rek spoke. “Merlin is dead.”
A sigh swept around the room as the news sank in. Beansprout stood on weak legs that protested beneath her – how long had she been sitting? – and made her way to the centre of the room. The Cervini crouched around Merlin, touching his hands and hair.
Beansprout was curious to see Merlin, but was more worried about Tom and Arthur. A chill seemed to have descended as the fire burned low. She threw some logs on and prodded it into life, then gathered some blankets and with Brenna and Woodsmoke’s help, wrapped the unconscious bodies to keep them warm.
Arthur, Orlas and Tom were pale and clammy, their breathing shallow. The strange markings on Orlas’s skin stood out against his pallor, making his otherness more apparent. It seemed they were only just clinging to life.
“Do you think they’ll be OK?” she asked Brenna.
“I don’t know. But they’re strong. I’m sure it will just take a while,” she answered, but her expression did not carry the conviction of her words.
A groan disturbed Beansprout’s thoughts, and next to her Nerian stirred back to life.
Rek moved quickly to his side. “Nerian, it’s Rek. Can you hear me?”
Nerian mumbled something and blinked rapidly, and in a few seconds his confusion cleared and he muttered hoarsely, “Did it work?”
Rek smiled thinly. “Well you summoned Herne and broke the spell.”
Nerian groaned again. “I know I summoned Herne! That’s why my head pounds!” He closed his eyes as if to shut out bad news. “And I know Merlin’s dead. The others?”
“Alive. But only just.”
Nerian opened his eyes again, looking more hopeful. “Good! Help me sit up.”
Rek lifted him, putting an arm behind him to support his shoulders, and offered Nerian a warm smoky drink that smelt of peat fires.
After a few mouthfuls Nerian said, “That was a strong spell. It’s a wonder they weren’t all killed. I think Tom’s attempt to break the spell helped.”
“Tom did what?” Beansprout asked, confused.
“He was trying to break the spell. I saw him, through Herne, as we crossed between the real and the illusion.”
Woodsmoke smiled. “Really? Very enterprising.”
“Herne has given me instructions.” Nerian paused and looked at Rek. “When we have recovered, we go to Ceridwen’s Cauldron.”
“We do what?” Rek spluttered.
Nerian looked bemused. “Surprising, yes?”
“But no one has been there for years!”
Beansprout interrupted. “Will someone please tell me what that is?” She turned to Woodsmoke and Brenna. “Have you heard of this cauldron place?”
They shook their heads, equally confused.
Nerian’s eyes glittered in the firelight. “It is an ancient place. A place of rebirth. The place where we bring Merlin back to life.”
Beansprout thought she must have misunderstood. Bring Merlin back to life?
Rek sounded nervous. “It is forbidden ground.”
“Forbidden by Herne. And now it is not. I told you he would do anything for Merlin.”
––––––––
Woodsmoke and Beansprout looked out across the moors. Dawn was breaking and a sliver of pale green light illuminated the horizon. The rain and heavy mist of the previous days had rolled away, revealing a sodden landscape pockmarked with pools and streams. And it was cold. Beansprout pulled her cloak close around her shoulders.
“Just when I think I’m getting use to this place, I find out something new, and it leaves me feeling weird again.”
Woodsmoke smiled. “The trick is to never presume too much here.”
“I suppose so,” she sighed, “but I’m worried about this Cauldron place. It sounds dangerous.”
“Well at least Tom and Arthur won’t need it.”
“But they’re not awake yet.”
“No. But they’re not dead. And we’ll be leaving for the Great Hall later. They’ll be better cared for there. It will be warmer than a cave, at least.”
“What happens after Merlin’s resurrection – if it works?”
Woodsmoke shrugged. “Maybe we look for Nimue. Maybe we go home.”
Beansprout frowned. Part of her was desperate to meet the witch with the amazing magic, but the other part of her was worried. “What’s the point in looking for her? She’ll be hiding somewhere. Or even if she’s not, what could we do? She might put a spell on us.”
“I guess it depends on how vengeful Arthur is.”
“I thought you were annoyed with Arthur?”
Woodsmoke stared absently over the moors. “I am. But I’m not about to let him run off with Tom again.”
“But Tom isn’t a child. If he wants to go with Arthur we can’t stop him. He might be feeling pretty vengeful himself.”
––––––––
It took a couple of days travel to reach the White Woods. Some of the Cervini were harnessed to a large cart carrying Merlin and the unconscious bodies of the others. They pulled it along at a funereal pace, and Beansprout was tired by the time they arrived.
The White Woods were named for the ghostly white trees that grew there. Their tall, spindly trunks stretched high above their heads, the leaves turning from a pale green to red in the autumn weather.
A large group of Cervini in human form greeted them at the main door of the Great Hall, a solid single-storied building made from the pale wood that surrounded them. Half a dozen Cervini lifted the lifeless body of Merlin onto a pallet and carried him into the recesses of the hall, while Orlas was moved with equal ceremony to his chambers. Tom and Arthur were carried to a room for the sick, and once they were tended to, Rek led Beansprout, Brenna, and Woodsmoke to a series of interlinked rooms with simple beds and rugs.
“I’ll make sure you have food bought to you later,” he told them. “And I’ll let you know when we have planned the ceremony at the Cauldron. Rest while you can. In case you hadn’t realised, you’re coming too.”
