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13  Planning the Hunt

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By mid-morning, the sprawl of tents and stalls had been packed up, leaving in their place flattened grass and furrowed land. A team of servants was already at work on clearing the grounds and dismantling the pavilions. People dawdled out of the gates and on to the moors, back to their villages and homes, carrying tales of daring and courage.

Arthur had mingled amongst them, shaking hands and promising to put on the event again. Tom had watched, curious, wondering if this was how it had been in Arthur’s time, with pageants and contests, and knights setting off on their quests and adventures. He had a sudden pang for what had once been. He liked Arthur’s quiet informality, his ability to treat everyone equally. No wonder he had been a good king.

Finnlugh and the royal household were mounted on stamping horses that snorted with excitement, ready to be off. Finnlugh slipped to the ground as he saw Arthur and Tom.

“Well done, Arthur!” he said, shaking his hand. “Excellent event. I shall look forward to the next. Do you need me to help with the witch?” He grinned rakishly. “You know I always enjoy a challenge.”

“Thank you, but no,” Arthur said, smiling. “I think small numbers will be advantageous in this case.”

“Well, you know where I am if you need me.” Finnlugh turned to Tom and shook his hand. “Good to see you back. Make sure you stay this time.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Tom said, his heart skipping a beat at the thought.

Finnlugh swung himself up onto his horse. “Look after the books – it’ll be a good excuse to come and see me when you’ve finished with them. I’ll keep looking too; if I find out more, I’ll let you know.” And with a flash of white-blond hair and the gleam of sun on silver lances, bridles and stirrups, the royal household disappeared.

Tom felt a stab of sadness as Finnlugh left. He would miss him. But as he and Arthur headed back to the castle, he was cheered by the thought of the conversation they’d had with Brenna earlier, at breakfast. She had sent the other Aerikeen home, while opting herself to stay and help. Tom had teased her, saying, “I’m sure we could manage without you, Brenna. You must have lots to do.”

With a glint in her eye, she’d said, “Thank you, Tom. When I need your advice I’ll ask for it.”

He’d scooted out of the way as she tried to cuff him on the shoulder.

Also at breakfast, Orlas and his wife had announced their intention of returning to the White Woods with the rest of the Cervini. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to get your home back, Arthur,” Orlas had said. “Rek wanted to stay, but I need him. I’m not sure he’ll forgive me.” He’d turned to the grizzled older warrior. “I’m sure they’ll manage without you.”

“I’m sure they will, but I’ll miss out on all the fun!” Rek had moaned, his mouth full of sausage.

Tom smiled. They had got to know the Cervini well since moving into the castle, and had become good friends, especially with Rek. “We’ll miss you,” he’d said. “But Brenna can come get you if we need support.”

Tom’s thoughts returned to the present as he and Arthur entered the infirmary, where they had arranged to meet the others. Tom immediately felt soothed by its calm atmosphere. The windows were open and a warm breeze flowed through the room. The gardens outside were a vigorous green, and the walls blocked out the noise of the departing guests.

Nerian was standing by an open window, talking with Jack and Fahey, his bag in his hands. He turned as they entered. “I’m glad to see you before I go. These two have made a good recovery. I’ve left some of the healing brew, but otherwise there’s nothing further I can do.”

“Give me a few more years of that stuff, and I might feel young again,” Jack said, grinning.

Fahey laughed. “I don’t think even Nerian’s that good.”

“Good luck finding Filtiarn,” Nerian added. “I’m glad Merlin’s going with you. I have a feeling you’ll need him.” With a swing of his dreadlocks he left.

“You know you two can’t come with us,” Arthur said, “so don’t even try to argue.”

Jack nodded. “Don’t worry, I know my limitations. And besides, my head still hurts.”

“I think that may have been the beer last night,” Fahey said with a grimace. “But it’s all right, Arthur. We have no intention of coming.”

Arthur nodded. “Good. It’s only that I think we’ll have enough to worry about.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of Brenna, Woodsmoke and Bloodmoon, and then Beansprout arrived with Merlin.

Merlin had brought the real Galatine. “I cannot find anything else on this sword that gives a clue to reversing the spell. I presume all will become clear on the night of the Wolf Moon.”

“And what if it doesn’t?” Woodsmoke asked. “How do we break the spell?”

“I think the first thing we need to do is find Filtiarn,” Arthur said. “Soon he’ll be in human form, hopefully, and will be able to speak to us. He must know how the spell works.”

“If he lets us help him,” Woodsmoke said.

“If we can even get near him,” Bloodmoon added.

“If Elan and the woman are helping him,” Tom said, “I don’t understand why they wouldn’t just tell us what’s going on.”

“When you’ve been betrayed before,” Merlin said, “it can be hard to trust again.”

Merlin’s tone was measured, but Tom wondered if that applied to him too, after all Nimue had done. But something else was tickling his brain.

“I found some maps in the back of that old diary Finnlugh found,” he said.

“Maps of what?” Beansprout asked, intrigued.

“One looked like Dragon’s Hollow, although it appeared much smaller on the map. And a few other places I didn’t recognise.”

“Dragon’s Hollow?” Beansprout said, excited. “Was there anything about the Forger of Light?”

Tom shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

Bloodmoon grinned. “Old maps, Tom! Hidden treasure?”

“Is that all you think about?” Woodsmoke asked, looking at his cousin sceptically. “Are you sure you haven’t got anything better to do?”

“No. And you know I can be very useful,” Bloodmoon said, smiling at Woodsmoke’s discomfort. He tapped his sword where it hung in its scabbard, “And I’ve still got my dragonium sword. It may come in handy.”

Tom shuddered slightly, remembering their encounter with the lamia.

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, it may! I think we should get moving. Let’s head for Inglewood. And bring those books with you, Tom.”