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The next day the sun was high, the sky was a cloudless blue, and it was hot. Tom strode across the gardens with Arthur and Merlin, heading towards the area set aside for the tournament.
Servants were constructing two large pavilions on Arthur’s fine green lawns. One was for food and drink, to keep the competitors fed and watered all day, and the other would store the weapons used for the events. Close to the pavilions were the areas marked out for the competitions. One area was for archery, and a fey dressed in dark green was pacing out the distance to the targets. The other area was for knife throwing, and had a similar set up to the weapons market in Dragon’s Hollow. The targets were large wooden carvings of wolves, a wood sprite, boar, and trolls, plus some creatures Tom didn’t recognise but which had a lot of claws and teeth. There was also an arena for sword fighting and wrestling, and a large enclosure filled with trees, bushes and obstacles, for displays of horsemanship.
Arthur’s standards were very high. They stood before the food pavilion admiring the fine embroideries of dragons, woods and boars, the gold and silver thread glinting in the sun.
“I’m not sure these pavilions have enough gilding on them, Merlin,” he said. “I really want them to catch the eye as the guests arrive.”
It would be impossible to miss them, thought Tom. They were huge.
“Don’t worry,” Merlin reassured him. “I can burnish them if needed, I have just the spell for it.”
“And Merlin, you are going to change into something a little more respectable, aren’t you?”
Tom grinned as Merlin’s face fell. Merlin maintained a look of constant distraction and disorder. His beard was unkempt, his hair long and messy, and he still wore the old threadbare grey cloak they had found him in, in Nimue’s silver tower.
“I don’t see why I should change,” he muttered.
“Because you look scruffy,” Arthur retorted. “It would be nice if you could make an effort.”
Only Arthur could get away with saying that.
Before an argument could start, Tom decided this would be a good time to mention what he’d seen the night before. “I think I saw someone run across the lawns last night.”
“What do you mean, Tom?” said Arthur. “When?”
“In the middle of the night. I saw someone run from over there.” He pointed towards the edge of the lawns next to the gardens. “He, or she, seemed to look right at me, and then ran to the trees over there.” He gestured to where the orchards began.
“Well I doubt it was an intruder, Tom. The walls are too high and strongly built for anyone to get in. And how could they possibly see you? You’re three floors up.”
“I know, but it seemed that way.”
Merlin frowned. “I have put spells of protection across the walls. Only someone with magical abilities could get through.”
That seemed to make Arthur’s mind up. “Must have been a guard, Tom. Let’s just finish the inspection.”
“I’ll leave you to it, Arthur,” said Tom, unconvinced. “I’m going for a wander.”
Arthur and Merlin waved after him distractedly as he headed to the orchards.
Within a short distance, the hum of noise from the activities dulled, and once he entered the orchard it disappeared completely. The trees around him were old and gnarled, their trunks a pale silver-grey. Branches twisted and knotted together, and the rub of their intertwined branches produced a slippery whispering noise that was disorientating. The orchard had clearly been here a long time, planted back in Ceridwen’s day. Some of the trees had grown to huge proportions, particularly the walnut trees, but despite the long years of neglect they were still vigorous and covered with buds. Underfoot the grass was long, so evidence of an intruder should be easy to see.
It took a good while, but eventually Tom saw a patch of flattened grass, and followed a trail to the base of the wall. He examined the pitted stone blocks. It was possible to climb it; gaps in the stone provided small hand and footholds. But it would be tricky, and it was high. A fall could kill you. At his feet, something glinted in the sunlight, half buried in the soil. Pulling it free he brushed it off and held it to the light. It was a round silver disc, probably a brooch, with a pin and clasp on the back. In its centre was a wolf’s head, carved in immaculate detail, and around the edge of the silver disk was a ring of paw prints.
Someone had been here. Tom wondered if it was the cloaked figure from the Inglewood. Whoever it was had possessed magical abilities, and they wanted Galatine.
Tom found Merlin in his tower. It rose from the centre of the castle, its windows looking out across the castle’s grounds and walls to the moors beyond. The east window gave a view of the octagonal courtyard on the roof below, where Ceridwen’s cauldron had been before the sylphs had blasted it to pieces. Merlin’s was the only window that looked out on it. The other walls enclosing the octagonal space were windowless, making it completely private. Merlin said it reminded him of his own mortality – which Tom found odd, as the cauldron had been responsible for his rebirth.
The tower was square instead of round, but otherwise reminded Tom of the tower in the Realm of Air. Merlin had filled it with the things he had finally brought back from there. A long wooden bench ran down the centre of the room, the walls were lined with books, jars and pots, and the floor was made of solid stone slabs. Above him the thick wooden rafters were hung with dried herbs.
Merlin sat at the centre table reading a large, black, leather-bound spell book. His finger ran across the page and he muttered to himself softly. He jumped when Tom spoke.
“Merlin, I found something at the base of the walls by the orchard. I think our visitor left it.”
Merlin’s sharp blue eyes narrowed. “So you really think we have had a visitor?” He took the disc that Tom offered. “It looks a bit dirty, Tom. It could have lain there for years.”
“But the ground was trampled, and there was a trail through the grasses,” Tom insisted.
Merlin rummaged amongst the myriad objects on his table and finally pulled free a magnifying glass. “The detail is good,” he said, examining the disc. “The eyes are obsidian.”
“They’re what?”
“Obsidian. It’s volcanic rock from the Realm of Fire. And the pawprints have flecks of ruby in them. Tiny. Ingenious.”
He handed the magnifying glass and disc to Tom, who was surprised to see Merlin was right. There was so much detail, it was incredible. He could see tiny blades of grass beneath the pawprints, and the fur on the wolf was so fine he could have sworn it moved.
“What does it mean, Merlin?”
He sighed. “I’m not sure it means anything.” Taking it back he turned it over and examined the other side. “Probably an old brooch someone dropped.”
“But who does it belong to?”
“I don’t know, but leave it with me, Tom. I’ll consult my books.”
Leaving the tower, Tom found quite a commotion outside. Two-dozen riders on huge black stallions had filled the courtyard, their silver standards shining, dazzling everyone. Tom grinned, recognising them immediately. “Finnlugh! Over here.”
A tall slim faery with shining white-blond hair turned and waved, then jumped from his horse and in seconds was at Tom’s side, hugging him with surprising strength. “It’s been too long, Tom! I knew you’d come back.”
“Then you knew more than I did. I thought they’d abandoned me forever.”
The last time he’d seen Finnlugh – Prince Finnlugh, Bringer of Starfall and Chaos, and Head of the House of Evernight – had been when Tom was returning to Earth and his granddad’s cottage. Finnlugh hadn’t changed; pale skinned, with sharp precise features and dark blue eyes, and the slight point to his ears that all royal fey had. His long hair was loose and he wore a midnight-blue tunic. Around his neck was a thick silver chain, the end tucked into his jacket. His clothes were immaculate, and of the finest cut and quality, and he emanated an aura of power and wealth. But for all that, he was friendly and genuinely pleased to see Tom. “You know they would never have done that,” he said, shaking his head.
Tom shrugged. “I know, but I was starting to panic. I thought maybe they couldn’t get back.”
“Well, you’re here now, and I hear you’ve been busy resurrecting Merlin and fighting dragons!”
Tom grinned. “It isn’t something I’d have done back home.”
“Home sounds like a very boring place – much better to have come back here. I presume you’ll be in the tournament tomorrow?”
“Of course, but I’m not sure I’ll be any good.”
“There’s nothing like competition to increase your skills, Tom.”
“I know, but everyone else will be so much better.”
“You don’t know that. It’s also meant to be fun.”
They were interrupted by Arthur, who appeared from the hall behind them. “Good to see you, Finnlugh,” he said, shaking his hand.
“Arthur – good to see you too. Impressive castle.”
Arthur swelled with pride. “Come, I’ll show you the grounds. You can pick your favourite spot. I presume you still want to stay in your tents?”
“Absolutely. We will appreciate being under the stars. Besides, there are rather a lot of us!” Finnlugh said, glancing behind him.
Finnlugh’s companions had now dismounted and their horses were being led away by the grooms. They were a mixture of men and women, all tall, some with the same white-blond hair as Finnlugh, others with hair the colour of sunsets, forests, and blue skies. Tom had forgotten Finnlugh’s royal family looked a little more otherworldly than other fey.
Finnlugh called to him. “I’ll see you later, Tom. We have much to speak of.” And with a theatrical wave he fell into step beside Arthur.
Tom watched them cross the main hall, wondering which events they would be competing in. His attention was quickly distracted by more noise, as a flock of birds wheeled overhead and then flew into the courtyard, swiftly changing form as they landed. Brenna and the Aerikeen had arrived.
Brenna was looking more like a bird, even in her human form. Her long black hair still fell to her waist, but the feathers along her hairline seemed thicker and they ran through her hair like down. The dark leather trousers and jacket she always wore also now seemed to be covered in tiny fine feathers, and her eyes were dark with almost no whites showing.
Her smile was so warm and friendly Tom felt a rush of affection. He had missed her, and wished she would come to live at New Camelot too. He gave her such a hug she protested. “Tom, you’re crushing me!” She held him at arm’s length. “You’ve grown. How dare things change when I haven’t seen you!”
He smiled. “Well, you should visit more often then.”
“Yes, I should,” she agreed. “But unfortunately I’ve been kept pretty busy.”
“But not busy enough to miss a tournament?” he teased.
“There’s always time for one of those.” She glanced behind her. “I’m being rude, let me introduce you.”
A young Aerikeen with soft, brown, shoulder-length hair and feathers along her hairline and down her neck stepped forward. Her eyes were hazel brown, and like Brenna, there was almost no whites to her eyes. She was also very pretty.
“This is Adil, my cousin.”
Adil nodded in greeting. “I’ve heard so much about you, Tom.”
“You have?” he asked, puzzled.
“Of course, Tom. You helped save us.” She blushed slightly, before stepping back.
Brenna introduced the others, and Tom knew he would never remember all their names. These Aerikeen were young, bright-eyed and eager to be involved in the tournament. “These are all survivors of Morgan,” Brenna said, referring to Morgan Le Fay who had tried to kill them all at the Aerie in Aeriken. “They are helping to rebuild our way of life. I thought they should have some fun over the next few days.”
Tom welcomed them, feeling it was his responsibility while Arthur was with Finnlugh.
“I take it Arthur has invited people to watch the tournament?” Adil asked. “There’s a crowd of people on the moors outside the walls; a small tented city seems to have sprung up.”
“He has, but I’m not sure how many,” Tom said, slightly alarmed. “I think the competitors have brought their own supporters.” He had a gnawing worry that Arthur wasn’t in fact expecting this many at all. “I think everyone’s excited apart from me – I’m just nervous.”
Brenna laughed. “You’ll be fine, Tom.” She gave him another hug and big smile. “It’s so good to see you.” She lowered her voice and put her mouth to his ear. “I told you I’d miss our adventures.”
He grinned. “Come on, I want to show you something.” He led them into the main hall and heard Brenna’s intake of breath.
“Arthur has been busy! Look at this place.” She gazed at the tapestries, the rugs, the chandeliers, and the wooden table filled with trays of delicacies for the visitors.
“His small army of servants have been busy,” Tom said wryly.
“I’m glad to see the profits from the dragonyx haven’t gone to waste,” she said laughing, and reached for a sweet cake on a gilded platter.
“Wait until you see the banquet he’s prepared for later. Come on,” he said, “I’ll show you to your rooms. You’re next to Beansprout.”
