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While they packed up, the wolves padded around the camp, alternating between watching them and the entrance to the cave. Tom had just about got used to them, unnerving though they were. It seemed Elan and Rahal could communicate with them too, and Tom presumed they had reassured the animals about their intentions, because they were now almost friendly as they sniffed around, curious.
As they finished packing, Filtiarn returned with the wolf at his side, Elan and Rahal trailing behind, looking relieved. He stood in front of Arthur, lifting his head proudly. “I accept your help. You’re right, I can’t do it alone. Will you still come with me to Dragon’s Hollow?” His belligerence had gone, but Tom could tell he wasn’t happy about accepting help.
Arthur smiled and clasped his hand. “Of course we’ll come with you.”
Bloodmoon interrupted, already astride his horse. “You will slow us up, Filtiarn, and that’s the brutal fact of it. You’ll have to follow us there, that way we’ll have a few more days to search.”
The steel returned to Filtiarn’s voice as he shot an angry look at Bloodmoon. “I won’t, I’m a good horseman.”
“I don’t doubt it, but you’re just not fit enough. I ride fast, and you won’t keep up. And we need as much time as we can get.”
“I agree,” Arthur said, trying to reason with Filtiarn. He threw an appealing glance to Rahal and Elan. “You should take your time, gather your strength with your guardians, while we ride ahead. If you tell us what you remember, it will help us when we start looking.”
Rahal stepped forward, putting a hand on Filtiarn’s arm. “He’s right, we can follow. We don’t want to jeopardise this.”
Filtiarn hesitated for a second and then nodded.
“Good,” Arthur said. “What do you remember of that night, and Giolladhe’s workshop? You need to tell us everything.”
“If I’m honest, I remember very little now, it was so long ago. And the change I undergo, it strips the memories, a little every time.” He looked at the ground, his shoulders dropping. “I can’t even tell you with great accuracy where his workshop is. I couldn’t even find it last time.”
“Tell me what you can remember,” Arthur said gently.
“I remember the workshop was on the right shoulder of the mountain, on the hillside above the dragon sorcerer’s house. One evening as I was leaving, the sun was setting and as I opened the door, the sun dazzled me.”
“That’s good,” said Arthur, nodding at Woodsmoke, who turned to Tom and whispered, “I knew it!”
“Go on, what else,” Arthur prompted.
“The door was set back, under a slight overhang. It was made of beaten copper, I think. He knew the dragon sorcerer well, they talked often, shared ideas and spells.”
“And the moonstone. Where did you last see it?”
“I suppose at the altar in the forest. When I first turned I kept my human thoughts for a while, and I kept returning to the clearing. It was just lying there on the earth. But I took little notice of it.”
“Can you remember where the clearing was?”
“In the wooded slopes behind Raghnall’s house. He had marked a path to it, with torches.”
“Who? Raghnall?” Arthur asked confused.
“No, Giolladhe.” Filtiarn closed his eyes in grief. “I was so excited at the thought I would join my brothers.” He reached out a hand and stroked the head of the old wolf. “I still can’t believe that he tricked me. He was ... so cruel.” Filtiarn swallowed painfully.
“Why do you think he tricked you?”
Filtiarn looked confused. “I don’t know. We’d had an argument about the spell being locked into the moon’s cycle, but that was all. I do remember him laughing, though, and saying I should know better than to criticise him.” He closed his eyes again, as if to block out the memory.
“Are you sure there wasn’t something else?” Arthur asked.
Filtiarn looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“It seems extreme. Did he want you out of the way for some reason?”
“I don’t think so. And how could this help, anyway?”
Arthur paused for a second. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling there’s more to this. Just think about it. Try to remember what you were doing at the time.”
Filtiarn started to shout, his voice breaking. “I can’t think now. I’m too tired.”
“It’s all right,” Arthur said, soothingly. “You’ll have plenty of time to think on the road. We’ll carry on, and will meet you at the Hollow.” He pointed to Brenna. “Our friend here is Aerikeen, she can check your progress, and when you arrive we’ll send someone to meet you at the gate.”
Filtiarn nodded, and suddenly looked weak. “Yes, thank you.”
That was Arthur’s gift, Tom thought. He engendered such trust.
Arthur smiled at Filtiarn and shook his hand. “Travel safely and we’ll see you again soon.”
With a flurry of goodbyes, they mounted their horses and left for Dragon’s Hollow.
––––––––
After days of hard riding, involving long hours, short stops and little sleep, they arrived at the base of Dragon Skin Mountain. Brenna had already flown ahead and warned Nimue of their arrival.
Tom was more tired than he’d been in a long time. Arthur and the others were expert horse riders, and Tom had kept up with difficulty. He ached all over, but he smiled as they started on the path to the Hollow, feeling he was returning home, which was an odd sensation considering how little time he had spent there. Bloodmoon had been right, though. Filtiarn would never have managed the journey at their pace.
Bloodmoon and Woodsmoke had the led the way, across parts of Blind Moor that Tom had never seen before. As usual Tom rode towards the back of their group, and Beansprout rode next to him.
“You’ll be pleased to know,” she now said, smiling at him, “that our new housekeeper is very efficient. He fills the baths quickly, and he’s an expert cook. And you can have your old room.”
“Well I hope the bath is run, because I stink, and I could sleep for a week.”
“We all stink, but you can’t sleep, we’ve got a lot to do in a very short time,” she pointed out.
He groaned. “I know, but just give me tonight. I’m going to be in bed early, and then I’m up and on it. I promise!”
She laughed. “Fair enough, I’m knackered as well. And I’ve got Raghnall’s weird stuff to go through. His library is huge – can you imagine? Thousands of years of collecting books! And there’s a separate spell room.”
Dragon’s Hollow looked as beautiful as ever. The damage caused by the dragons’ attack a few months before had been repaired, and once again the fey serenely walked along the gilded paths and roads, and the enormous dragon fountain splashed water into the lake. Across the valley, the House of the Beloved gleamed in the afternoon sun, the black marble shining like a well-polished gem. As they strolled through the city Tom saw huge round golden lanterns suspended above the streets, and every so often they’d pass fey children chasing each other around wearing wolf masks. The celebration for the Wolf Moon had started.
Nimue greeted them at the door, her grin broad. She hadn’t changed. Her long dark hair curled across her shoulders, her skin was pale, and her green eyes sparkled. “I knew you couldn’t keep away, Arthur. Have you missed me?”
He laughed. “I’m not sure that’s how I’d describe it.” And then he corrected himself as he saw her indignation. “Of course, always!”
Beansprout ran to her, giving her a big hug, which shocked Tom. They’d obviously become very close. Nimue flashed a smile at the rest of them as she welcomed them into the house. She led the way up to the broad balcony overlooking the city, and Arthur introduced Bloodmoon, who she’d never met before. He swept into full charm mode, and Tom felt a little resentful of Nimue’s appreciative smile. She never looked at him like that.
He noticed Merlin kept his distance from Nimue. Suddenly, all sorts of dynamics seemed to have entered their group.
As they helped themselves to drinks, Tom noticed a subtle change in the house. The furnishings were still opulent, but there seemed less formality than before. Maybe it was because it was less tidy than he remembered. Books were stacked on the table, scarves and throws were draped over chairs and the divan. Raghnall had clearly been a neat freak, and Nimue was not.
He was jolted out of his thoughts when Nimue said, “You’ve grown, Tom. You’re a bit broader round the shoulders I think.”
He felt suddenly self conscious under her gaze, and again was slightly mesmerised by her green eyes, which still crept into his dreams sometimes. He caught Woodsmoke trying to bury a smirk, and was grateful when he rescued him.
“We’ve been teaching him how to fight, Nimue. What you see before you is months of hard work. He came second in the beginner’s sword-fighting competition.”
“Well done, Tom!” She looked genuinely pleased, and Tom mumbled his thanks, relieved when she turned to Beansprout. “We need to continue with your training.”
“I know, but Merlin’s been helping me too.”
“Good.” She nodded at Merlin. “He’s a good teacher.” And no-one knew that better than Nimue, Tom thought uncomfortably.
Later that evening, after long baths and a rest, they met again before dinner. Nimue wanted to show them something. She led them along an upper corridor, into a room that led out onto the roof. Along one long wall was an astrological chart, embellished with gold and silver and other precious metals and gems. The lines and swirls of stars were faintly illuminated, and Tom couldn’t help saying, “Wow, that’s amazing!”
On another wall was a plan of the different moon cycles. There weren’t any dates, but their succession was again marked out in a flowing script, in what looked like white marble on a black wall.
“It’s amazing what I keep finding,” Nimue said. “When Brenna told me what you were looking for, I started to search the house. It sounds ridiculous, but I’ve been so busy maintaining Raghnall’s spells and establishing myself here, that I still haven’t explored the whole place.” She looked sheepish. “And the library and spell room occupy me for hours. Anyway, Beansprout’s right, the moonstone is not in the weapons room. In the rooms I have searched, it’s not on display, and as well as the rooms I haven’t searched, there may be hidden rooms too. And then I found this.”
Merlin stood absorbed in front of the star charts. “Raghnall certainly spent his time productively. The star chart moves?”
“Yes, too slowly to see, but when you come back here, there are changes. What you see now is how the stars stand at present.” Nimue pointed to a line of stars that were almost aligned. “The Wolf Moon is unusual in that it occurs only once in a thousand years, aligning with certain other stars. It has long been held to be a powerful time to perform spells and rituals, and it has a certain reputation.”
Bloodmoon agreed. “I have never lived through one, but certainly there are stories amongst those who have. Strange tales, weird magics. Fahey has a store of such tales.”
“I can’t seem to get a straight answer,” Arthur said, frustrated. “Does the ritual have to be performed on the night of the full moon, or if we miss that, could it be performed at any time through the cycle?”
Nimue nodded. “In theory, yes, any time. But the full moon is always the most powerful.”
“Unless the spell says otherwise,” Merlin said, once again introducing confusion.
“Right,” Arthur said decisively. “I suggest that Beansprout, Nimue and Merlin search the house, including the library, for signs of the moonstone and any spells, or old diaries. I will search the woods behind the house for evidence of an old altar, or clearing. Brenna, if you would join me?”
She nodded. “But after a few thousand years, Arthur, that will be hard going.”
“I know.” He turned to Tom, Woodsmoke and Bloodmoon. “Will you search above the house, on the mountain? We need to find the workshop.”
They nodded, and once again Tom felt daunted by their task. Surely this was impossible. But then he thought of Filtiarn, and Rahal and Elan, and how he desperately didn’t want to let them down.
