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Tom lay in bed listening to the rain lashing against the windows. It was mid-morning and he had slept fitfully, interrupted by the thunder and lightning, which had continued for hours. Now there was only the odd rumble in the distance. He hoped the rain would ease by tonight or they would get soaked, and he wasn’t sure if cloud covering the Wolf Moon would affect the intensity of the spell. It was going to be a weird day.
Tom sat up and read the Gatherer’s account again, ensuring they had missed nothing important. Tonight they would recreate that event. He pulled Galatine free of its scabbard and examined the fine engravings. It really was a beautiful sword, and he didn’t want to give it up. It was his now, bound to him once it had been reactivated. He rubbed his hands across the djinns’ eye opals, feeling their warmth. He’d heard no animals speak after that first time with the dragon – all he had was a subtle awareness of other creatures nearby. It seemed Galatine’s ability to enhance communication with animals had not passed to him, and he felt a bit disappointed.
Shaking off his gloomy mood he dressed and went in search of the others, first trying the spell room. Despite the full-length windows, the room was dim. The fire had gone out, and a dark green liquid that Tom presumed was the potion sat on the table in a small glass flask with a stopper. No-one was there, so shutting the door carefully behind him, Tom headed down to the kitchen where he found Beansprout, Brenna, Woodsmoke and Arthur sitting around the table, the remnants of breakfast in front of them.
“Morning,” Tom said, heading over to the range, where covered dishes were being kept warm. “I’m starved.”
“Morning, Tom,” Arthur said, leaning back in his chair. “We’re trying to decide what to do today.”
Tom sat down next to him with a full plate of eggs, bacon and fried mushrooms, and a mug of coffee. “There’s not much we can do, is there?” He looked around the table. “You all look very serious.”
“Just worried,” Beansprout said. “If it all goes wrong tonight, well ...” She shrugged. “We’ll have failed, won’t we?”
He nodded and swallowed a mouthful of breakfast. “I was looking at that old diary this morning, just in case we missed something, but I couldn’t see anything else. Where’s Filtiarn?”
“I’m here,” a deep voice said from behind him.
Everyone turned as Filtiarn entered the room, Rahal and Elan by his side, and a young white wolf pattering along beside him. “I’ve been told I need to build my strength, so I’m here for some breakfast.” He looked better than he had in days, and his eyes had lost their wildness. With a shock Tom realised it was because Filtiarn was cheerful.
Arthur obviously agreed. “You look good, Filtiarn. Are you feeling better?”
He nodded and sat down, while Elan brought him a plate of food. “Having a good bed and lots of sleep has done wonders. And good food helps too,” he said, tucking into his breakfast. Now that the lines on his face had softened and he was starting to fill out, Filtiarn was looking a lot more like the picture the Gatherer had drawn. “And Rahal tells me you have made the potion.”
Rahal sat next to him. “We can’t thank all of you enough. The support you’ve given us over the last few days has meant everything.” Her eyes filled, and she brushed away a tear. “The strain of the last few months has been huge.”
Arthur leaned forward and took her hand. “It is our pleasure, Rahal. I couldn’t stand by, it is against my nature,” he said earnestly.
“But we attacked you –” She faltered, looking down at the table.
“Not your finest moment,” Woodsmoke said with a frown. “If you’d killed Jack or Fahey it would have been a different matter.”
Arthur shot him a look of annoyance, but Woodsmoke stared back defiantly.
Beansprout intervened, shooting a comforting smile at Rahal and Elan. “Fortunately they’re all right. Although it seems like a lifetime ago now.”
“I’m so glad they’re well. And I’m glad we’re here now.” Rahal smiled at all of them and Tom found himself smiling back. It was hard not to like Rahal and Elan. He wondered what would he have done in their situation.
Rahal pressed on. “In anticipation of success, we’re taking Filtiarn into town to buy some clothes.”
“Yes, I feel I should return my borrowed clothes,” Filtiarn said. “And I’m curious to see how the Hollow looks now. It’s certainly different to how I remember it.”
“I admire your positive attitude,” Arthur said. “Aren’t you worried we’ll fail?”
Filtiarn pushed his plate aside. “I have failed since I was cursed. This is the closest I have ever got. We have Galatine, the moonstone, the spell and the potion. I have to allow myself some hope today. I’m going to pretend it is already over, and this is the start of the rest of my life. After all, by tomorrow I could be cursed forever and I shall have to end the curse another way.”
He spoke with such finality that Tom and everyone else knew exactly what he was talking about.
“I can’t imagine you would kill yourself,” Arthur said, looking at him with incredulity. “Not after enduring what you have for so long.”
“But I always had hope.” Filtiarn’s expression was deadly serious. “After tonight there will be no hope if we fail. I refuse to live like this. In fact I can’t. I think one last change will kill me. But I will choose how I die. Not Giolladhe.”
If anyone hadn’t understood the importance of their task before, they did now.
Arthur was insistent. “We will not fail. I will not accept defeat. I never have.”
“You are fortunate, then. I hope that continues. For my sake as well as yours.”
Tom asked a question that had been bothering him for some time. “Do you still talk to animals? I mean, can you hear them, understand them?”
Filtiarn looked at Tom curiously, and then patted the head of the wolf sitting next to him. “No. I hear only my wolves, my constant companions. The curse affected me in other ways. I cannot hear any other animal now. Why do you ask?”
“Now I’m carrying Galatine, and it’s awake, I thought maybe I would hear something, but I can’t.” Tom was going to explain about the dragon, but that sounded too weird, so he kept it to himself.
“I can only presume it’s because it was to enhance my own powers,” said Filtiarn. “You have never had them, and therefore ...” He shrugged, his meaning clear.
“So if we break the curse, your full powers will return?”
“Maybe, Tom. Maybe.”
Tom was dreading asking his next question, and he knew Arthur didn’t want him to. But he had to. “If you had the sword back, would that help?”
Filtiarn shook his head. “I do not want the sword. It is yours now. I do not even wish to look at it.”
Tom nodded, relieved. He loved Galatine, despite its origins. After all, it had belonged to Gawain. And it made him feel closer to Arthur.
Woodsmoke gave Filtiarn the ghost of a smile. “Enjoy your day, Filtiarn. Leave the preparations to us.” He turned to Tom. “You’re helping me – we’re going to finish the clearing and build the fire.”
“I am?” Tom said, surprised. “But it’s raining!”
Woodsmoke gestured towards the windows. “It’s stopping. Besides, the Wolf Moon doesn’t stop for the rain.”
“Don’t worry,” Brenna said. “I’ll come and help. I’d like to keep busy. It will take my mind off tonight.”
“I’ll be spending the day with Merlin and Nimue,” Beansprout said, barely suppressing a grin. “More magic stuff.”
“And then I suggest we rest,” Arthur said. “It’s going to be a long night.”
