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Tom sat with Woodsmoke at the entrance to the tunnel leading to Dragon’s Hollow, looking out over the mountain below them. The rose gold gates were partially open behind them, glittering in the sun.
It was late afternoon, and they were in the shade of a towering tree, leaning back against the trunk, each sipping a bottle of Red Earth Thunder Ale.
“I really hope we don’t have to go back into those tunnels,” Tom said. “They were creepy.”
“I felt like I was inside Raghnall’s grimy little mind,” Woodsmoke agreed. “All those twists and turns and hidden secrets.”
“There’s probably a maze of tunnels beyond the dragon hoard. It’s weird to think that beneath us all sorts of things may be hidden away.”
“And things we don’t really want to find,” Woodsmoke said. He pointed to the path, to where a pocket of dust swirled. “I think that could be Filtiarn.”
Woodsmoke and Tom had volunteered to come and welcome Filtiarn, Elan and Rahal. Both were glad to leave the preparations behind. Nimue and Beansprout were out searching again for the grove, and preparing to start a new ritual place in the woods behind their house if needed, helped by Brenna and Bloodmoon, who was not good at being cooped up in the house. Merlin and Arthur were in the library, trying to open the box.
“Do you think we can do it?” Tom asked. He looked at Woodsmoke who reclined against the tree, his legs stretched out in front of him, and wondered if he would ever be as calm or composed. Woodsmoke took everything in his stride, and if he was worried about anything, he rarely showed it.
“I’m not sure, Tom,” he said, his expression sombre. “It’s a big ask after so many years.”
“We got Merlin out of Nimue’s spell.”
“With Herne’s help. There’s no god to help us now.”
Tom looked at Galatine. “I feel sort of responsible. And I know it’s stupid, but I do. I mean, I have the sword that performed the curse.”
“Oh come on,” Woodsmoke said. “It has nothing to do with you. Neither you nor Arthur had anything to do with it. And at least the sword’s ‘awake’ now. Filtiarn has a better chance than he’s ever had before.”
As he finished speaking the three figures rounded the bend in the path, followed by a dozen wolves, and they stood to greet them. “But you know what?” he added, before the others came within hearing. “I think there’ll be another twist before this is all over.”
Before Tom could question him further, Woodsmoke turned and waved. “Welcome back to Dragon’s Hollow!”
Filtiarn looked tired, but better than when he had become human again. The haunted look behind his eyes remained, and Tom wasn’t sure if that would ever go. Filtiarn managed a slight smile. “It’s good to finally be here.”
Tom looked nervously at the wolves that padded around them, sniffing at their feet. Rahal reassured him. “It’s OK, Tom, they accept you as friends now.”
They were beautiful creatures, their fur thick and white, their eyes intense. Tom held his hand out and one sniffed it cautiously, and then nuzzled under it, allowing Tom to pat it.
Rahal and Elan slipped off their horses, Rahal saying, “I have to confess, I need a good freshen up.” She ran a hand across her face. “I feel very dusty.”
“You can rest and change at Nimue’s,” Tom said. “We have rooms for all of you.”
Elan smiled with relief. “Good, the ride has been hard on Filtiarn. Have you found anything to help us? We’ve found the moonstone, and have activated Galatine.” He pulled the sword free and pointed to the stones swirling in the hilt.
“But we haven’t found the spell yet,” Woodsmoke added. “We think we’re close, though.”
“Wow!” Elan said, impressed. “You’ve found more than we have in years.”
“But we had your knowledge to build on,” Tom said.
“And a lot of luck,” Woodsmoke added.
“Even so ...” Elan said, and he looked at Filtiarn. “Good news, yes, Filtiarn?”
Filtiarn didn’t respond. Instead he stared down at his horse.
Tom held Galatine out to Filtiarn. “Do you remember the stones doing this?”
Filtiarn shook his head. “It was my sword for many years, but it never had the djinns’ eye opals until my brother modified it.”
Woodsmoke nodded. “Let’s get to Nimue’s where we can talk in comfort. Will the wolves follow us? They may unnerve the fey of the Hollow.”
“I’ll send them around,” he said. He spoke a series of what sounded like barks and growls, but the wolves seemed to understand him, and they loped off beyond the gate, heading onto the steep mountain paths.
“Have either of you been to Dragon’s Hollow before?” Woodsmoke asked Rahal and Elan.
“Never,” they replied together.
“Well, you’re in for quite the experience. Come with me, Rahal,” Woodsmoke said, courteously. “I’ll tell you all about it.”
He mounted his horse and waited for Rahal, then led the way back through the tunnel, leaving Tom to follow with Elan and Filtiarn.
“Does anything look familiar to you?” Tom asked Filtiarn.
“A little. I recognised the moors we crossed, they have changed very little, but I’m pretty sure the gates were not of rose gold when I was last here.” He smiled wryly. “They have obviously had good fortune.”
“When were you last here?”
“Two thousand years ago. I could not bring myself to come here the last time I changed. I’m not sure I want to be here now.” His hands trembled slightly as he gripped the reins of his horse, and Tom tried not to show he’d noticed.
“In that case, you’ll probably find it’s really different inside.”
Tom had got used to the splendours of Dragon’s Hollow, but Elan was quiet as they rode up towards the lake, looking around at the houses and the people. Once there, he gazed up at the huge dragon fountain in the centre of the lake. “This place is amazing.”
“I certainly don’t remember the fountain,” Filtiarn said. He looked around, taking everything in. “The city has grown, and the houses are more decorative. I don’t remember them being so richly embellished.”
“Do you remember that?” Tom asked, pointing towards the House of the Beloved in the distance.
Filtiarn’s eyes darkened. “Yes. I remember that. Raghnall’s place. Although it wasn’t as big.” He looked up at the shoulder of the mountain beyond. “That’s where Giolladhe’s workshop was.”
“We found it,” Tom explained, wondering if he should mention the portal. He decided not to, things seemed complicated enough. “And we found the underground tunnels.”
“What underground tunnels?” Filtiarn asked, looking puzzled.
Was it possible that Filtiarn couldn’t know? It seemed Raghnall and Giolladhe had many secrets between them. “Let’s keep going,” Tom said, spurring his horse onwards, “and I’ll explain.”
Tom sat next to Beansprout at dinner, Brenna on his other side. They were again on the long balcony overlooking the city, seated around the table, chatting as they ate. Nimue and Beansprout had done their best to make their guests feel welcome, and the table glittered with silverware and candlelight. However, there was none of the Raghnall’s ostentatiousness, and everyone was relaxed and laughing. Tom was oblivious to the decor, tucking into roast chicken with relish.
Beansprout watched him eating. “Where on earth do put it all, Tom?”
“What?” he said, indignant. “I’m very hungry. Hard work does that, you know?”
“Try making a sacred glade in this heat,” she said sarcastically. “That’s hard work.”
“Is it done?” he asked, taking a breather and sipping his beer.
“We think we may have found the original,” she said with a slow smile.
“Really?”
Brenna joined in. “As I thought, we were looking too close to the house yesterday. The place I saw was on a rise, and now I know where Giolladhe’s workshop is, it makes sense. It’s his grove, not Raghnall’s. Well,” she qualified, “we think it is.”
Beansprout continued. “It’s off the path up the mountain, the one you used to find the workshop. But you turn off it, before it becomes too high. Off to the right. But we couldn’t have found it without Brenna. The path is completely overgrown.”
“I had to work back, from the grove,” Brenna said. “It looked less dense than the rest of the woods.”
“So is that easier? Less work to do?” Tom asked, excited.
“You’d think so, but no,” Beansprout said. “We’ve still got a good day’s work ahead of us. And we need to prepare the path from the road.”
“And set up lanterns to help us find the way,” Brenna added. “Although the moon will be full, it will be dark beneath the trees.”
“How are you clearing the trees?”
“A combination of magic and brawn,” Brenna said, with a grimace. “Guess who’s helping us tomorrow.”
Tom looked at her suspiciously. “Do you mean me?”
“Yes,” she said, “there’s lots more to do.”
Arthur joined in. “I am feeling more positive about this already.”
“Why?” Beansprout asked. “Have you opened the box?”
“No,” Merlin answered quickly, his glass halfway to his lips. “I don’t want to risk it breaking. Whatever’s locking it is powerful.”
“It has a wolf on it, you say?” Filtiarn asked. He ate like a bird, picking at his food slowly, and pushing it around on his plate. He looked very pale.
“Yes, a wolf’s head actually,” Merlin explained. “I can show you later if you like.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Filtiarn said. “I’m not sure I will be up too much longer.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Arthur said. He looked at Filtiarn with concern. “You must rest. Tomorrow’s fine. How many days until the full moon, Nimue?”
“Two.”
Only two days. The table fell silent for a second as the news sank in.
“And I would like to ask you more questions about the ritual,” Nimue said. She had been silent for some time, listening to the others and watching Filtiarn. “And a little about the arrangements with the sylphs at that time, if that’s all right?”
Filtiarn looked startled, as did Rahal. “Why does that matter?” she asked Nimue, slightly aggressively Tom thought.
“It all matters,” Nimue said sharply, her green eyes flashing. “Understanding what went wrong then may help us put things right now.”
Filtiarn, Rahal and Elan soon pleaded tiredness and excused themselves, but not before the Wolf Moon appeared over the mountain. It was bigger again, and it seemed to Tom that the yellow hue was increasing as the moon grew in size, casting a sickly light over the city. As it rose, the wolves in the forest beyond the house loosed their unearthly howls and Tom felt goosebumps rise on his skin. Filtiarn stood watching the moon for a brief second, before he turned and almost fled the balcony.
