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Night had fallen, and Tom leaned on the balcony watching the city lights twinkling. The dragon fountain was lit up from below, and it glowed red, green and gold. Around the rim of the lake, Tom could see the jugglers’ fire clubs being thrown high into the air, and he watched the spectacle, mesmerised. He hadn’t been into the town yet, and hoped that he’d have time to visit the market tomorrow. He looked up at the Wolf Moon, now almost full. Its sickly yellow glow was getting stronger and it chilled his blood.
The table had been cleared after dinner, and the wooden box containing the spell was now sitting on it. Nimue had rolled out the scroll and was making notes on a pad next to her. She sat at one end of the table, Beansprout, Rahal and Merlin next to her, reading and asking questions, and consulting several books stacked on the table – books on herbs, gems, and metals. Tom smiled to himself. Three witches and a wizard; he certainly kept unusual company these days. Beansprout looked animated, excited to be learning more magic, but Rahal seemed worried, despite her clear regard for Nimue and Merlin. She’d been asking questions ever since she’d arrived, and particularly this evening. And they still hadn’t worked out what Arach Frasan Fuil was.
Arthur and the others sat at the opposite end of the table. Tom was the only one standing. He had grown suddenly restless, and could only put it down to nerves. Tomorrow night they would be making their way to the sacred grove, and they had to find out what some of the words meant, or it would never work.
Bloodmoon was examining something he’d found in the box – it looked like a tusk. He held it up. “Does this belong to a boar?”
“I think so,” Rahal said, taking it from him. “The spell needs something to anchor the boar, and the change.” She handed it back and then reached into the box, taking out a feather. “This is a raven’s, it signifies change too.”
“I must admit,” Nimue said, squinting at the scroll, “this is proving harder than I thought.”
Arthur interrupted, addressing Filtiarn. “How did you open the box?”
Filtiarn lifted his shoulders and spread his hands wide. “I merely touched it.”
Arthur looked shocked. “Is that all?”
“Quite clever, really,” Merlin said. “Only Filtiarn or Giolladhe could open it, and most of the time Filtiarn would be in boar form anyway. It ensures no-one else could rescue him.”
“I wonder where he is?” Filtiarn said, looking down at the table. It was clear he was referring to Giolladhe.
“Does it matter?” Arthur asked. “We can break the spell without him.”
“Yes, it does matter. He did this to me.” He looked up and glared at everyone, suddenly furious. “Me. His brother! And I have no idea why!”
“It does seem a bit overkill, just because he thought you’d insulted his spell,” Beansprout said.
“He was always quick to anger,” Filtiarn explained. “But yes, his response seems unreasonable.” His eyes flashed, but Nimue intervened with another question.
“What exactly was going on here five thousand years ago, Filtiarn?” She looked at him curiously. “I mean, the city didn’t exist like this. It was overrun with dragons; traders were trying to mine for the rich seams of metals and gems, and they were battling with dragons and sylphs. And the sylphs found their city under attack as well. This would have been a battle zone. I’ve read accounts, but they are dry and dusty and probably don’t contain the real history.”
Filtiarn looked uncomfortable. “Just as you’ve said. It was a battleground for riches. Fey were here before the dragons.”
“No they weren’t,” Bloodmoon corrected. Tom had forgotten he had an ear for stories, like Fahey. Bloodmoon leant forward, cupping his wine glass. “Dragons have always been in the Hollow. It was named after them. Where there’s gems, there’s dragons. Those are the rules of the Realms. But the fey wanted their wealth.”
“Well yes, true,” Filtiarn said. “But they were manageable, almost. It was when the dragons started arriving from the Realm of Fire that things became dangerous.”
“Yes.” Merlin nodded. “It started the Dragon Wars. What led you to ask for the spell?”
“I arrived with the early fey and attempted to negotiate with the dragons – I failed. Not long after, Giolladhe arrived – it was the best place for him to get precious metals and gems for his forging. And Raghnall had arrived too. Probably for the same reason. Raghnall immediately set up his spell, but with limited success. It was clear the dragons were stronger.” He shrugged. “They’re dragons, after all. I left for a while, and then thought I’d try again. And I’d decided I wanted to hunt with the wolves. I’ve always had a bond with them, something I can’t explain.”
“So you can speak dragon?” Tom asked.
Filtiarn looked at him and smiled. “Of a sort. Their language is guttural and difficult, even with my skills. I was trying to broker peace – I was a bit of a diplomat,” he said modestly. “I had achieved success elsewhere where animals and fey had clashed. Sometimes just for small villages on the edge of wild forests, or for the Realm of Water where they waged daily battles with some of the fierce creatures under the sea.”
So far, so true, Tom thought, remembering what the Gatherer had written in his diaries, and some of the other books Finnlugh had loaned them.
“When it was clear the fey wouldn’t leave the Hollow and the dragons wouldn’t stop attacking, I thought I’d try again, to help prevent more bloodshed,” Filtiarn continued. “That’s when I asked my brother to strengthen my sword so that I could enhance my skills. Galatine was one of his early creations, and I had owned it for a while. I was proud of it, and of him for making it. As you’ve seen, it is a work of great beauty. I thought he could concentrate energies within it, and that those energies could have another action – one of transformation that could help me run with my wolves, my companions of old.”
“But he wasn’t keen, was he?” Merlin asked, narrowing his eyes speculatively.
“No, not initially. How do you know?”
“While you were all busy with the grove, I spent some time reading those contracts we found, and it seems he and Raghnall were making a lot of money from protecting the town and the sylphs. Giolladhe had made the sylphs an amulet to protect them from the dragons. They paid a lot of money for it – I saw it in a contract. My guess is that the spell could have worked a lot better, but it suited Raghnall and Giolladhe to have it fail sometimes. It gained them protection money.”
“That makes sense,” Nimue added. “A few months ago a contingent of fey arrived here to present me with the annual gift to Raghnall for protection of the city. The gift that of course transfers to me, now I protect the city.”
Beansprout looked at her in shock. “I didn’t know that!”
“I was so disgusted, I couldn’t bring myself to speak of it,” Nimue said, annoyed. “Of course I refused. I don’t take protection money. I do this to protect the city, as anyone with a conscience would. I confess I thought this was a later arrangement. I had no idea it had been going on for millennia.”
Arthur said, “So that’s why everyone looked so uncomfortable around Raghnall. He was holding them hostage.”
Woodsmoke agreed. “And when we killed him they thought we had condemned them to death by dragon attack, and more extortion.”
“Is that why we’ve been getting gifts lately?” Beansprout asked. “And the occasional freebie at the market?”
“Probably,” Nimue said. “They were so pleased I didn’t want their money – it was a huge amount – that they’ve been showing their gratitude in other ways.”
“Have the sylphs forgiven you?” Bloodmoon asked Nimue, referring to the time when she had outwitted them at Arthur, Woodsmoke, and Tom’s trial.
“No, not really. Although they are civil,” she said with a smile. “But to go back to you, Filtiarn, you were about to disrupt the flow of money. You had to go.”
Filtiarn looked at her and then Merlin in shock. “He cursed me because I could have ruined their protection racket.”
“I think so,” Merlin agreed.
“So where is Giolladhe now?” Elan asked. He looked agitated, as if he wanted to go searching for him right then.
“He hasn’t been seen since after Excalibur was made. It was one of his final works,” Merlin said.
“He had to flee,” Tom said, recalling his earlier conversation. “The djinn said the amulet he made for the sylphs didn’t confer protection – it drew the dragons to the Realm of Air, and eventually, somehow, they found out.”
Merlin nodded. “That’s true. I’ve been looking into the history of the Hollow in one of Raghnall’s many books, and it seems he disappeared at the same time the sylphs discovered his deception. I think Raghnall blamed him completely to save his own skin, and Giolladhe had to run.”
Beansprout tapped the scroll. “What if whatever this thing is in the spell, doesn’t exist any more? You know, like an extinct plant, or something.”
Rahal had been quiet for a while, carefully reading through a large black leather-bound book, and now her head shot up. “I’ve found it!”
“You have?” Beansprout asked, craning to read the passage.
Rahal groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Arach Frasan Fuil means Dragon Blood Jasper.”
Nimue looked alarmed. “Are you sure it’s not just Blood Jasper?”
Rahal looked up at Nimue, her eyes wide. “No, it’s definitely Dragon Blood Jasper – that’s what Arach is.”
Nimue had gone white. “I’ve never heard it called that before.” She looked at Merlin as if he could produce one from under his robe. “I know I haven’t got one. Where in the Realm can we get one from? In time for tomorrow!”
“Slow down,” Arthur said. “We are surrounded by markets selling gemstones. Why can’t we just buy one?”
“Because Dragon Blood Jasper is found in one place only – in the skull of a baby dragon,” Rahal said. “And we need that too.”
“That’s disgusting! What exactly are we supposed to do with it?” Arthur asked. He was leaning over the table, gripping the edges, his knuckles white.
Rahal read from the spell: “Take Arach Frasan Fuil and add whole to the potion exactly four hours after the brew has started. The following line says we are to grind the anchor to powder.” She looked up. “The anchor must be the bone.”
“This just gets worse,” Nimue said, leaning back in her chair.
Tom interrupted, confused. “We’re in Dragon’s Hollow. Dragon central in fact. Surely a baby dragon’s skull is easy to find?”
“Dragons guard their young more fiercely than their gold. How easily do you think you could get one, Tom?” Nimue asked, fixing him with her piercing stare.
“I didn’t think of that,” he said sheepishly.
“And that potion needs cooking time,” Merlin said. “We need it in the next six to eight hours. I need to start the potion tonight.” He grabbed the spell from her, and pointed out the line. “This refers to a potion that needs twenty-four hours brewing. We need to start this by eleven o’clock tonight latest.”
“Oh, great Goddess. I thought we had a little more time,” Nimue said, her calm demeanour shattered.
“Do we need anything else?” Brenna asked.
“I’m pretty sure we have everything else we need. Maybe more Wolfsbane?” Nimue said, checking her list.
Tom noticed Filtiarn had fallen silent, watching them debating back and forward. He had screwed his napkin up in his palm, and squeezed it again and again, wringing it out until it looked like a piece of rag.
“Maybe we need to search the passage again?” Woodsmoke suggested. “Although that could take days.”
“I’m leaving you to worry about that,” Merlin said, rising to his feet and rolling up the scroll in one swift movement. “We’re going to the spell room up on the roof. We need to start assembling the ingredients now, and start the brew in ...” He looked at the clock ticking on the wall – it was already nine o’clock. “Two hours. We need to weigh, grind, and prepare.”
“So we have until three in the morning to get the Dragon Blood Jasper – and skull,” Arthur said, jumping to his feet and starting to pace up and down. “Great. Just great.”
“I’ll help,” Brenna said to Merlin. “I’ll be your runner, for anything you may need.”
Bloodmoon stood suddenly. “I have an idea. I’m heading into the Hollow. Anyone coming?”
“To do what?” Arthur asked, intrigued.
“Find the stone and skull of course,” he answered with a grin.
Tom realised his whirling thoughts wouldn’t settle for a few hours, and the thought of walking through the city at night excited him. “I’ll come.”
“Well I’m not leaving you with Bloodmoon. Herne knows what you’d get up to,” Woodsmoke said, his tone mildly appalled, but clearly eager to be out of the spell-making.
“Great,” Bloodmoon said. “Strength in numbers. And Arthur, we need you.”
Arthur looked torn between helping Merlin and going with Bloodmoon. “Why?”
“You’re the money. Bring lots of cash.”
“I’m coming too,” Elan said. He placed his hands over Filtiarn’s, stopping their constant wringing. “We are going to do this. I promise you.”
