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Tom was hot and sweaty, but he was also very happy. Arthur was waiting for him with an ice cold beer. “Congratulations, Tom!” he said, shaking his hand. “You’ve made me proud. Satini was an excellent opponent, you acquitted yourself well.”
“Cheers, I was taught by the best.” Tom took a long glug of his beer with relish. “And thanks for the beer, this is just what I needed. Shall we go and find the others?”
“I’ve got to head off Tom – I have host obligations, but I’ll see you later.” He gave Tom a final powerful squeeze of his shoulder before disappearing into the crowds.
Tom turned to find Adil behind him, appraising him with a slow smile. “Well done, Tom. I’m quite impressed.”
He felt himself blushing. “Ch-cheers,” he stammered. “You were watching, then?” He inwardly smacked himself. Obviously she was watching.
“Of course. Are you going to be around tonight?”
“Around?”
“You know, around the campfires, celebrating?”
“I guess so.”
“Good, I’ll see you later.” And with a long last look at him, she headed into the crowds, leaving Tom wondering if his heart was beating faster because of the fight, or something else.
The awards would be held on the final day, so Tom waved to the crowd then headed to the food tent. He grabbed some kind of faery meat pasty and headed to the knife-throwing. A few people patted him on the back as he passed, which was embarrassing but nice, and he found Beansprout standing on the edge of the enclosure, a look of concentration on her face. Following her gaze, Tom realised she was watching Brenna.
“How’s she doing?” he asked.
She turned to him, shocked. “Sorry, Tom, miles away. Very well. You?”
“Came second.” He shrugged. “I was beaten by the best. Satini is amazing.”
“Awesome! Really sorry I missed your final match, but I saw you in every other round. You’re really good! I always tell you to trust yourself more.”
He grinned, pleased Beansprout had watched many of his fights. “Cheers, I surprised myself if I’m honest.”
“Well done.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Now shut up, I’m watching Brenna.”
Before he could say anything else, Woodsmoke appeared. “I’ve been looking for you.”
They stepped out of the crowd’s hearing.
“Did you find Elan?” Tom asked, suddenly anxious.
“No. But we found his trail. We followed him over the wall and tracked him to Inglewood. Unfortunately his trail disappeared quite quickly.”
“You went to Inglewood! But that’s miles away.”
“We travel quickly when we need to, Tom. Besides, he disappeared hours ago. You’ve just been sidetracked.”
“Where’s Bloodmoon?”
“Investigating, he’s good at that. And congratulations on coming second.”
“Thanks. I had fun.” Tom rolled his shoulders and winced. “But I think I’m going to ache tomorrow.”
“You’ll live. So, who’s Elan?” Woodsmoke wasn’t going to let this drop.
“I don’t know,” Tom said, exasperated. “He just appeared in the event. Maybe the officials will know more? He must have registered with someone. Although no-one seemed to know him, and I didn’t see him talking to anyone.”
“Well he seemed to know you. I just can’t work out what he was doing. I mean, was he trying to kill you, beat you, humiliate you? It’s not like he could have done much with everyone watching,” Woodsmoke said thoughtfully.
“He tried very hard to hurt me!”
“Come on,” Woodsmoke said, pulling him along. “Let’s ask Finnlugh or Ironroot.”
They found both in the weapons pavilion, already talking about Elan.
“Ah, there you are Tom,” Finnlugh said. “I’ve just been hearing about the attack from the mysterious Elan.”
“So you don’t know him either?”
“No,” Ironroot said. “But I suspect he may be from the fey lands beyond Inglewood, close to the shore and the string of islands they call the Serpent’s Tail. You probably noticed he had dark hair and suntanned skin.”
“Is that in any way related to the Forger of Light and the Wolf Mage?” Woodsmoke asked.
“No idea, but I’ll find out what I can,” Finnlugh reassured them. “In the meantime, enjoy the tournament. There’s nothing else we can do at the moment.”
Tom left for his room – he really needed a bath – after which he’d come back for the evening’s entertainment. He wandered through the crowds, glad to be alone with his thoughts. The day had been busy, hot and exhausting, and his head was buzzing with all sorts of things.
Closer to the castle the grounds became emptier, and he strolled down the garden paths wondering why he hadn’t seen his granddad or Fahey during the day. He presumed they’d been lost in the crowds. He passed the guards at the big back entrance of the castle, and made his way down empty corridors, hearing the occasional muted shout from outside.
He trudged up the stairs and into his room, and at once all thoughts of exhaustion left him. His room had been ransacked, and Jack and Fahey were lying motionless on the floor, both with bleeding head wounds. Jack lay face down on the rug outside the bathroom, and Fahey was halfway to the door. His heart skipped a beat and he felt suddenly sick. He stuck his head into the corridor shouting, “Help, Help! Come quickly!” He then ran over to Fahey and Jack. “Granddad, Fahey!” He reached Fahey first and shook him, pleased to see his eyelids flutter. He then ran to his granddad who also stirred slightly as Tom shook his shoulder. “Granddad, can you hear me?” he said urgently. A pool of blood was soaking into the floor, and there was a thick matted clot on the back of his head.
Jack didn’t respond.
Turning back to Fahey, he shook him again, then gently checked his head. There was a large gash on the side of his head too. Someone had struck them both and just left them here. And for what? Panic rose as he realised they could die if they didn’t get help soon.
He looked up to yell again as Merlin appeared at the door, a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Did I hear...?” His voice trailed off as he took in the scene, then hastened over to Fahey and Jack.
“Any idea when this happened?” Merlin asked as he examined them.
“No. I just got back. But why are they in my room, Merlin?”
“At this stage, Tom, we have far more questions than answers. Before we do anything else we need to move them. It’s a good job I told Arthur to set up an infirmary.” He looked up from where he was crouched on the floor next to Jack, calm and resolute. “They’ll be all right, Tom, but I need you to go and find Nerian. Bring him to the infirmary. Now!”
As Tom ran from his room he heard Merlin shout, “And send the servants to help!”
Fifteen or so frantic minutes later, Tom finally found Nerian in conversation with a grizzled satyr – they appeared to be discussing stages of the moon and old prophecies. With muttered apologies he dragged Nerian away, breathlessly trying to explain what had happened.
The infirmary was on the ground floor, next to the kitchen and stores and overlooking the walled herb and vegetable gardens. It had been chosen because of its big windows and the natural light that flooded in. Merlin had started cleaning Jack’s and Fahey’s wounds. A young female fey stood at his side, handing him strips of linen, and helping him staunch the bleeding.
Jack now looked ashen.
Nerian immediately assessed the situation. “Run to my room and bring me my large leather bag, Tom.” He turned his attention to Jack’s wound.
“And bring my large spell book, you know the one,” Merlin added.
––––––––
Dusk had fallen, and the candlelit sick room was filled with the pleasant smell of burning oils and the spicy rich aroma of incense. Tom sat by the open window, letting the warm evening breeze wash over him, breathing in the soothing scent of the lavender oil. He was exhausted, but his mind raced with the events of the day.
A servant had been sent to fetch Arthur, Woodsmoke, Brenna, and Beansprout, who had joined them now that the final knife throwing event had finished. The rest of the guests were celebrating in the pavilions outside. Three boars had been roasting all afternoon, and the party promised to be a long one.
Finnlugh had also stayed a while, using the Starlight Jewel to aid the healing process, before leaving at Arthur’s request to help keep an eye on the crowds.
Arthur was standing by the fire, looking grave. “I think I should cancel the rest of the tournament. It’s clear someone is using it as cover to attack us.” His voice shook with anger.
“There’s no point now, Arthur,” Merlin said. He was sitting by Fahey’s bed, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. Fahey’s head was wrapped in bandages, but his colour was good and his breathing steady. “Just double the guards on the castle and lock all the doors except for the ones at the rear and the main hall.”
“How can you say that after what’s happened?” Arthur said. “I feel guilty about all of this. And I presume it’s to find Galatine.”
“And have they found it?” Tom asked, having forgotten all about his sword.
“No. It’s very well hidden and protected, exactly where I put it earlier.”
Tom had another thought. “Have they attacked the armoury? Surely that’s one of the first places they’d have looked?”
Leaving Nerian and Merlin in the sick bay, the others raced to the armoury, where Dargus had been on guard the previous night. As they ran down the long corridor they saw the door hanging open. There was no-one in sight.
Tom’s heart was pounding. Please, he thought, let the guard be OK.
As they entered the room they heard a hammering on the door of the inner forge, and a voice shouting, “Help, I’m locked in!”
Arthur unlocked the door and flung it open. Dargus stood on the other side, covered in grime but otherwise well.
“Thank Herne you’ve found me,” he exclaimed. “I thought I’d die in there.”
Arthur looked angry but relieved. “You fared better than some,” he said. “Can you remember what happened?”
Dargus frowned. “Not really. I remember letting a woman into the weapons room, but I didn’t know why I was doing as she asked. And the more I thought about it the more my head hurt. Then she suggested I should be in the forge, so I walked in and the door slammed behind me. That’s all I remember, until I woke up in here.”
“A woman? Who?” Arthur asked.
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen her before. And for the life of me, I can’t remember what she looked like.” He clutched his head. “Ow, the more I try the more my head hurts.”
Arthur sighed. “You’d better head up to the infirmary too.” He nodded to the floor above. “Go on, I’ll arrange a new guard. And Dargus,” he added, as he watched him go. “Keep this quiet.”
Brenna placed a hand on Arthur’s arm. “This isn’t your fault. None of us could have had any idea this would happen.”
“I still think I should cancel the tournament,” Arthur said.
“No.” Brenna shook her head. “Woodsmoke’s right. You’ve spent months planning this and it would be harder to stop it.”
“I agree, and we can watch the crowds, see if anything unusual happens,” Beansprout added. She leant against the wall, looking pale and tired.
Arthur paced up and down and ran a hand across his face. “This reminds me of a time when my other castle, Caerleon, was attacked.” He said it so casually, like everyone had other castles. “It was during a visit by the neighbouring princes of Ireland, who had come to discuss trade. Someone tried to sabotage the deal by attacking the delegation, so Lancelot, Gawain, Galahad and I set a trap, and it worked well.”
“A trap?” Tom said, feeling alert for the first time in hours.
Arthur continued to pace up and down, his usual activity when he had a lot on his mind. “I need to think on it, but for now we say nothing, and I’ll cover this place in guards. Whoever it was may return, because they haven’t found what they were looking for.”
“We presume they’re looking for Galatine? They might not be,” Woodsmoke said.
“No, maybe not,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “But then, what else is going on?” He shook his head, frustrated by the events. “I’m returning to the party. I want everything to look normal, and we act as if nothing’s happened. Come on everyone, let’s go.”
“Everyone?” Beansprout said, reluctance written all over her face.
Arthur winked. “Just a few hours, my lady,” and he held out his hand. “We are to look carefree.”
Beansprout grudgingly took his hand and he led her from the room, followed by the others. Locking the armoury door, they left to find a new guard and then headed to the party.
––––––––
They strolled across the grounds, past stalls selling all manner of wares – jewellery, clothes, food, amulets, weapons, charms and more. Laughter and singing were everywhere. Tom had never experienced anything like it, and he found his energy returning with the excitement of it all.
A large fire was burning in front of the colourful tents belonging to the royal tribes of fey, and another half a dozen smaller fires were scattered around the grounds, where other visitors had set up camp for the night. The tents of the royal tribes were distinct from the others, partly because of their size – they were like mansions – and partly because of their unique design. Trees and bushes had sprung up where before there were none, weaving together tightly to make organic tents, with small lights sprinkled in the branches. The insides were lined with silks and velvets, and carpets were rolled out across the floors.
They found Bloodmoon, Orlas, Aislin, Rek and Finnlugh sitting around a small fire in front of Finnlugh’s tent, deep in conversation. They stood to greet them as they arrived, but Arthur spoke first. “I don’t want anyone to know of what happened,” he said quietly. “We keep it between us.”
“I’ve heard about the attack,” Bloodmoon said. “Unfortunately I have been able to find out very little. Elan kept to himself. He wasn’t witnessed talking to anyone. However, he was outside the grounds this afternoon, we know that. That means someone else attacked Jack and Fahey.”
Arthur groaned. “You’re right, Bloodmoon. Now we have two to worry about. Dargus was attacked by a woman, she must have attacked the other two as well.”
“What are you planning Arthur?” Orlas asked.
“I’m not entirely sure yet, but someone here is intent on causing trouble and I intend to find out who.”
“And how are Jack and Fahey?” Aislin asked, concerned, her large brown eyes looking molten in the firelight.
“Recovering slowly,” Woodsmoke said. “I’m tempted to head back to Inglewood to search for Elan; that’s where he disappeared to earlier.”
“If you go, I’ll come. I can’t wait to get my hands on him,” Rek said, looking grim.
Finnlugh shook his head. “That would be madness, although I understand your reasoning.” He gestured to the stools set around the fire. “Come, there is nothing else we can do tonight. Sit, eat, drink.” As everyone found a seat, he said, “You know, I have been thinking about this Wolf Mage, and I think it may well be worth me visiting my cousin’s Under-Palace – it’s not far from here. One of our ancestors, who lived there years before, wrote books about famous fey; I wonder if that’s where I’ve seen the name.”
Aislin protested. “But you’ll miss the tournament!”
“No, I’ll be there and back in a day,” Finnlugh said, looking excited at the prospect of action. “I shall leave at dawn, and I’ll be back for the horsemanship event, you can be sure!” He turned to Brenna and Tom. “And now there’s nothing to do except celebrate your third position with the knives today, and Tom’s second in the sword fighting!”
Brenna grinned as she accepted a drink. “I had stiff competition.”
“Sorry! I forgot to ask,” Tom exclaimed. He’d been so caught up in other events he’d completely forgotten about the competition.
“Don’t worry, Tom, you had a busy afternoon.” She held up her glass. “Here’s to your success too.”
By the time Tom got to bed that night it was very late, and the moon was high overhead. He realised with a feeling of guilt that he hadn’t seen Adil at all. He promised himself he’d try to find her tomorrow. At least no-one would be creeping across the grounds tonight, he thought, as his head hit the pillow. He slept like the dead.
