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Tom wallowed in his bath, washing away the ash and black marks left by the fire and lava, and the smell of singed hair and sulphur.
The moonstone sat on the bathroom floor, Galatine propped next to it. Both seemed to give off a faint glow, but Tom wasn’t sure if he was imagining that. Ever since the sword had woken – as he called it – he felt it, reverberating through him, like a tremor.
He hadn’t heard any more animals speaking to him, but he felt aware of them, like a subtle presence on the edge of his perception. It was a strange feeling. But not as strange as hearing that dragon. He was sure it had spoken. Did that mean creatures could sense the sword? All Tom could think of was Dr Doolittle, and he sank beneath the water, trying to banish it from his thoughts.
By the time he got out of the bath it was dark and late, and he was starving. He carried the moonstone down to the long balcony overlooking the city, and placed it on the edge of the table for everyone to see. He was the first to arrive, and he helped himself from the platters of cold meats and cheeses, olives, sweet dishes and soft breads laid out on the table, nibbling on food and sipping wine as he gazed at the city, wondering what had happened here so many years before. He tried to remember what the djinn had said, but his time in the Realm of Fire already felt like a dream. He just felt lucky to be back here, and not back at his grandfather’s cottage.
In a short time Arthur arrived, looking disappointed. He threw himself on the divan with a large glass of Satyr’s Delight and complained, “I was clearly an idiot for thinking I would find the clearing. How did everyone else ...” And then he stopped as he saw the moonstone. He looked at Tom. “Is that the moonstone?”
“Yes it is,” Tom said with a grin.
“How? Where?” Arthur leapt to his feet, his energy returned, and looked at it from every angle as if it would disappear.
Tom felt a little sheepish. “I crossed to the Realm of Fire – accidently!” he added quickly as he saw Arthur’s expression.
“Woodsmoke let you go alone?”
“Woodsmoke didn’t know! And I’m fine – I’m not a child, Arthur. And I got the moonstone!”
Arthur’s frown quickly turned to a grin. “Well done, Tom. That’s my boy.”
As Tom relayed his experience in the Realm of Fire, Arthur continued to prowl around the moonstone. “What’s this slot for?” he asked, gesturing to the top.
“It’s where Galatine goes.” He pulled Galatine free and placed it on the table. “Look at the stones. The djinn helped me wake the sword.”
“So you had to pull the sword from the stone?” Arthur asked, a smile hovering on his face as he looked fondly at Tom.
“Yes, I suppose, sort of,” Tom said, and then realised what he’d done. “Oh! It’s like your old legend – with Excalibur.”
Arthur hugged Tom. “I think that means something, Tom.” His voice sounded gruff and Tom peered at him closely. Arthur wasn’t usually an emotional man.
“It does? What?”
“I don’t know, but I feel we’re linked, more than we were before,” Arthur said, gripping him by the shoulders. “Galatine was never ‘awake’ with Gawain, maybe that’s because it was never meant for him.”
“That’s because it was meant for Filtiarn!” Tom said, trying to deflect whatever Arthur was trying to say.
“But I think it’s now meant to be yours, Tom.”
Before Tom could comment further, the others appeared and they changed the conversation, Tom trying to cover his confusion.
“We’re getting closer,” Arthur said, smiling.
“You’ve found the grove?” Nimue asked.
“No.” Arthur’s face fell. “I meant the moonstone. We have more searching to do.”
Brenna leaned back against the balcony, drink in hand. “I think it’s impossible. Even in a hundred years a wood will grow and change, obliterating a clearing. In a few thousand it would change everything. But there’s an area that might be worth looking at again tomorrow. I want to look closer to the mountain, closer to Giolladhe’s place.”
“We could create a new grove,” Nimue said. “In fact, it’s something I’ve been meaning to do. Merlin and Beansprout could help. But we still need to try and find the original spell, and that means exploring the passages between the house and the hill.”
Tom was confused. “What do you mean, a new grove? Does it matter?”
“It needs to be sacred ground, Tom,” Merlin explained. “A quiet space, prepared for magic. You can do magic anywhere, but big spells require a special place. It enhances the power of the spell.”
“How long would that take?” Arthur asked.
“Not long, really. A day or two. But we’re already short on time,” Nimue said.
“Have we any idea where Filtiarn is? He should be here soon,” Woodsmoke said.
“I flew out beyond the city today,” Brenna said. “They’re on the moors now, and should be here late tomorrow.” She looked worried. “I stopped to speak to them, and Filtiarn looks exhausted. I hope he survives the spell.”
News of Filtiarn seemed to energise Arthur. “So, we search again for the original grove, on the rise that Brenna saw, and if not we make a new one. We have a few more days until the full moon.” He looked out, to where the moon was edging above the mountain. “Look, it’s getting closer to full.”
The slight curl of the moon seemed to grin down at them, bathing them in its yellow glow, and Tom felt a tug in the pit of his stomach.
“But first we search the caves, and I suggest that’s something we do together,” Arthur said, his voice excited. “Tonight.”
