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A long groan, grunts, and a painfilled howl shocked them from their sleep. They were awake in seconds, weapons drawn.
Merlin called out, “Stand back, it’s started!”
Tom’s tiredness vanished in seconds and he rolled free of his blankets, retreating with the others behind the fire.
The wolves crept closer, sniffing the air and whining, sensing that Filtiarn was changing. Everyone was transfixed. Filtiarn’s large solid form now became fluid, his body rippling as he began to change shape. His hairy coat began to melt and morph into white skin, and his huge head shrank. The dull glow of the fire exaggerated the unreal aspect of the scene, as Filtiarn’s body cast grotesque shadows. Tom couldn’t quite work out what was happening, but it was clear from Filtiarn’s unearthly howls that it was a painful and brutal process.
And then it was over, and the long skinny form of a man lay motionless by the fire, his limbs looking almost wasted. Tom couldn’t believe that the huge form of the boar could produce such an emaciated figure.
Arthur grabbed a blanket and threw it over Filtiarn’s body, as Rahal and Elan rushed to his side.
“Filtiarn, can you hear me?” Rahal said softly.
He groaned, and moved slowly until he was sitting up, Elan supporting him. Filtiarn’s face turned to them, shocking Tom with its intensity. His dark eyes looked hollowed out and full of fear.
“It’s all right,” Rahal said, trying to reassure him. “I’m your guardian, you’re with friends.”
He looked at her, and the wildness in his eyes ebbed for a second.
Merlin intervened. “He needs quiet. Come on, let’s get him to the cave until he‘s stronger. I’ll start another fire there.”
Arthur bent to help him to his feet, and Elan supported his other arm. Slowly, on shaking legs, Filtiarn made his way to the cave.
Beansprout looked at Tom. “It’s a miracle he’s still alive. I mean ... he looks terrible.”
“A cruel fate indeed,” Woodsmoke said, heading back to the logs by the fire, the others following.
Within minutes Arthur joined them, his face grave. “He won’t survive another change, I’m sure of it. Come on, Tom, let’s have a look at the rest of those pictures.”
Tom handed the drawings round, and Arthur examined the one of the moonstone. “So, we need to find this, in order for the spell to work.”
“Maybe it’s in the weapon’s room in the House of the Beloved?” Bloodmoon said.
“No, I’m pretty sure I’d remember that,” Beansprout said, peering at the drawing over Arthur’s shoulder.
“Is the room still locked?” Woodsmoke asked from where he sat on the ground, leaning back against the log, his long legs stretched out so that his feet were almost in the fire.
“Oh yes,” Beansprout said, joining him, her blanket pulled close around her shoulders. “There’s still all sorts of amazing, dangerous and valuable weapons in there.”
Woodsmoke teased her. “Ever tempted?”
“Plenty of times, but I’ll stick with Fail-not, thanks,” she said, grinning. Fail-not was Tristan’s bow, given to her by Woodsmoke. “Nimue is very protective of them, says they’re a rich legacy of magical knowledge that must be kept safe.”
Arthur snorted. “Yes, I’m sure that’s why she keeps them locked up.”
“It doesn’t help us though, does it?” Brenna said.
“I think we need to go back to Dragon’s Hollow, that’s where it all began,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “We need to find his old workshop and see if there’re any clues in there.”
“And see what’s in Raghnall’s library,” Brenna added. “He must have one, and he’d have known Giolladhe.”
Beansprout nodded, “The library’s huge, full of arcane materials. I’m happy to do that.”
“One thing’s certain,” Bloodmoon said. “Filtiarn won’t be able to travel with us, he’s far too weak.”
“And it will take at least a week to get to Dragon’s Hollow,” Woodsmoke pointed out.
“But he could follow, at his own pace,” Beansprout said. “Hopefully arriving in time for the full moon.”
Merlin appeared out of the darkness and sat next to Tom.
“How is he?” Tom asked.
“Confused,” Merlin said. “I’m hoping we get more sense out of him in the morning.”
“Merlin,” Beansprout said, “do we need to perform the spell on the full moon?”
“For the best possible chance, yes. In the Gatherer’s story, he talks of drawing down the power of the moon for the spell – that means a full moon.”
“So we have to find the moonstone and the spell, all within a few days?” Tom said. This was going to be almost impossible. “Presuming it’s all hidden at Dragon’s Hollow.”
A collective groan sounded as they realised the seriousness of their position.
“We need to sleep,” Arthur said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
––––––––
After a poor night’s sleep, Tom woke with a groggy head to a mist-filled dawn.
He sat pulling his blankets around his shoulders, and moved closer to the fire, prodding it into life. And then he got a shock as he saw the wolves had surrounded them, or rather Filtiarn, whose hunched figure sat gazing into the fire. Wolves lay at his feet, nuzzled his hands, or lay with their heads on crossed paws, watching him. Tom studied him for a few seconds. His hair was still long, and it hung lank around his shoulders, matted in places, but it was no longer dark. Instead, streaks of grey ran through it. His skin was a deathly white, his face drawn, and his limbs were painfully thin. Tom recognised some of Woodsmoke’s and Bloodmoon’s clothes. He smiled; they must have loaned them to him in the night.
Tom looked around nervously, and then decided there was nothing to worry about. The wolves weren’t interested in him at all. He built the fire up and put some water on to boil, falling back into the familiar routines of camping. Filtiarn glanced up at him and Tom smiled nervously, but Filtiarn dropped his gaze back to the fire, mute, apart from a hacking cough that made him shake uncontrollably.
It wasn’t long before everyone was up, and the smell of bacon and eggs was drifting across the camp. Rahal put a plate of food in front of Filtiarn, and he ate ravenously. He looked old and fragile, but clearly his appetite was healthy. Tom couldn’t help but wonder why they had brought bacon, when Filtiarn had been a boar, but as it didn’t seem to bother him, he tucked into his own food with relish.
Rahal addressed them from where she sat amidst the wolves, petting them absently. “I’ve explained to Filtiarn who you are and how you want to help.” She glanced at Filtiarn, who ignored her, and continued nervously. “He refuses your request, but asks to see Galatine.”
Arthur nodded to Tom, and Tom passed it to Rahal who placed it on the floor at Filtiarn’s feet. He put his plate down and picked Galatine up. His voice was barely more than a croak. “I didn’t think I’d ever see this again,” he said, turning it over in his hands. He looked up at Tom as if to challenge him. “I’ll need to take this with me, to break the spell.”
“And how are you going to find the moonstone?” Tom asked, incredulous that Filtiarn wanted to go on alone.
Arthur snorted in a very unkingly manner. “That’s an excellent question, Tom, seeing as Filtiarn can barely walk!”
Filtiarn glared at Arthur. “I’ll manage just fine.”
“Yes, of course, that’s gone so well for you over the last few thousand years,” Arthur said dryly.
Filtiarn dragged himself to his feet, clutching Galatine, and the wolves started to growl softly. He was tall; he’d have been a handsome and imposing figure once. The tension around the camp shot up and everyone now paid full attention. “This is my business and I will deal with it.”
Arthur refused to be baited, continuing to eat as he watched him. “How?”
“I have two weeks until the full moon, I’m sure I’ll cope.” But he looked unconvinced, and Rahal and Elan exchanged worried looks.
“Bravo,” Arthur said. “Two weeks, fantastic. What’s your plan? Or don’t you have one?”
He glared again at Arthur. “I’m going to search Dragon’s Hollow for the moonstone, and go back to my brother’s workshop.” His voice was resolute, but he swayed on his feet and Tom could tell it took a lot of effort to stay upright.
“You remember where it is, then?” Arthur asked.
“No, but I’ll find it.”
“Just like you found Giolladhe?”
“It is not your business.”
“So you’re happy to die as a boar,” Arthur continued. “That’s fine. We’ll pack and leave you to it.” He looked at the others as they stared back, wondering what was happening. “You heard him, start packing!”
Woodsmoke got to his feet. “It’s OK, Filtiarn, you can keep my clothes.” He looked at Tom and as he turned away, gave him a wink. “Come on, Tom, you heard Arthur.”
Filtiarn started coughing and dropped to his knees, unable to stop. Galatine fell to the floor. Rahal rushed to his side and he shooed her away. “I’m fine.”
“No, you are not!” she shouted. “How dare you let your pride get in the way of us finally breaking your curse!”
“My dear lady,” Arthur said, in his most infuriating tone. “It won’t be you who dies. Just think, your responsibilities will be over. You can do whatever it is you do, and I can go back to my castle and start planning my next tournament.”
Tom was disappointed. If Rahal and Elan had seen sense, why couldn’t Filtiarn?
Merlin finally broke his silence. He’d been staring into the fire for a long time, listening to the exchange. He looked at Filtiarn who now rose on shaky legs to sit again on the log. “That way lies death, Filtiarn. I have seen it. You will fail.”
Filtiarn stared at him, fear in his eyes. “How do you know?”
“It is my gift, or my curse, whatever you choose to call it. But I have seen it. You will not survive another change, and will not find the stone alone.”
“I always get stronger in the days after the change. Always.”
“It won’t be enough.” Merlin closed his eyes regretfully, before opening them and fixing him with a piercing stare. “But it’s your choice.”
Elan pleaded with him. “This is the closest we’ve been in years! The most we have ever known! Filtiarn, please.”
Filtiarn looked around at the camp as the others packed, and resolutely turned away, walking back to the cave. Rahal and Elan cast a pleading glance back towards them, and then ran after him, followed by the oldest wolf. Tom picked Galatine up, brushing the dirt from its blade.
“Keep packing,” Arthur said. “We’re leaving anyway, in one direction or another.”
