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The path from the road to the sacred grove was lined with torches that spluttered and flared in the warm breeze. The rain had long since stopped, and now scudding clouds passed across the sky, occasionally blocking the Wolf Moon.
Tom looked up at the full yellow moon that blazed above them with a feral light, and again experienced a sinking in his stomach and a creep of dread he couldn’t fully explain. The feeling had been growing all day, and Galatine seemed heavy at his side. He presumed the others felt the same – apart from Filtiarn, who had a bright air of anticipation.
Merlin, Nimue and Beansprout walked ahead with Filtiarn, and the rest followed. The dozen wolves that accompanied Filtiarn had gathered close, and they slipped through the trees on either side, like ghosts, their yellow eyes glinting like tiny beacons in the darkness. Tom had got used to them, and found their presence oddly comforting.
Tom was carrying the moonstone. It was awkward and heavy, and it made his arms ache. Woodsmoke and Bloodmoon had wanted to help, but Tom had refused. He had found it, and he felt he had done little since, this was his contribution. He stopped and put it down for a few seconds, shaking his arms to return the blood flow.
Woodsmoke and Bloodmoon waited with him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to carry that?” Woodsmoke asked.
“No, I’m fine,” Tom repeated, slightly breathless.
“It was good of you to offer to return the sword,” Woodsmoke said, his expression invisible in the darkness. “I know you didn’t want to.”
“No, I didn’t, but it seemed right. I’m quite relieved.” Tom gestured up the path, towards where Arthur walked with Rahal and Elan. “And besides, Arthur wants me to have it.”
“Well, Arthur can’t always get his own way,” Woodsmoke said. His response reminded Tom of when Woodsmoke had disagreed with Arthur when they were searching for Nimue.
“It’s just Arthur’s way. He means well,” Tom said, wanting to defend him.
Bloodmoon agreed with Woodsmoke. “He’s a good man, but he’s still a king in his head. You will always need to stand your ground with him, Tom. Old habits are hard to break.”
Tom sighed. “I know, but it’s OK.” He bent to pick up the stone, to deflect further discussion. “We should get on.”
––––––––
When they arrived in the clearing, torches were flickering all around the perimeter, and the fire was burning in the centre, next to the altar stone.
Nimue called, “Put the moonstone on the altar stone please, Tom.”
He struggled over, and placed the stone in the centre. “What about Galatine?”
Nimue looked to Merlin. He had unrolled the scroll and was squinting to read it under a torch held by Beansprout. “Merlin?”
He nodded. “Yes, place it in now, Tom.”
Tom withdrew Galatine and carefully placed it in the moonstone. He immediately felt a tingle run along his arm and through his body, and at the same time a soft glow seemed to emanate from the centre of the stone, shining up along the blade.
Tom released it quickly, and stepped back.
“Are you all right?” Arthur asked.
“Fine, just nervous,” Tom said, feeling bad for lying to Arthur.
Before he could ask anything else, Merlin marshalled them into position. “I want all of you standing well back, against the tree line. Only Filtiarn needs to be in the centre, next to us.” He turned to Beansprout. “Stand next to Nimue.”
Arthur looked worried. “Why do you need Beansprout?”
“There is power in three. And this is a powerful curse. And there’s a line in here I don’t fully understand. I’m worried about what it means.”
Arthur looked aghast. “Is this a joke? We’re about to perform the spell and you don’t know what a line means?”
Merlin met his gaze evenly. “No. No-one understands it, not even Filtiarn. But we have to go ahead.”
“But why does no-one understand it?” Arthur’s voice was raised and impatient.
“Because it’s an ancient document, and the language is archaic, as we’ve explained before.” Merlin pointed behind him. “This is no time for arguments, Arthur. Now step back.”
Arthur stood his ground and was about to speak again when Nimue interrupted. “Arthur. Step back. We need to begin.”
Arthur glared at both of them and retreated to the edge of the grove, standing alone in a brooding silence.
Tom stood next to Elan, who had been quiet all evening and now looked pale and worried. “Are you all right?” Tom asked.
“Not really,” he said. “I just want this to be over.” He fixed his gaze on those in the centre and refused to say anything else.
Merlin started to speak, but it was in no language Tom could understand. Nimue handed Filtiarn the potion, and when Merlin nodded he drank it down in one long gulp. A shudder ran through him and he coughed. Merlin turned to face the altar stone and Galatine. Nimue and Beansprout joined Merlin’s chanting, their voices rising on the air.
The Wolf Moon cleared overhead, filling the grove with a pallid yellow light. As the chanting continued the moon seemed to grow larger and larger until it was pressed over the grove like a gigantic eye. Tom looked up and gasped, not believing what he was seeing. This had to be an illusion. He felt dizzy, and he shook his head as if to clear his vision.
At another gesture from Merlin, Filtiarn stepped forward and grasped Galatine. Immediately a ball of light engulfed Filtiarn and shot up into the sky, straight at the Wolf Moon. Nimue, Beansprout and Merlin stepped back, but continued to chant loudly. Then Filtiarn flew backwards and landed on the ground, seemingly unconscious.
The sword, the stone and the moon remained connected in one blazing beam of light, and a shape rose from Filtiarn’s body. The wolves howled around the grove, and Tom’s skin prickled all over. He was so tense he could barely breathe. And then the form rising from Filtiarn became clear. It was the shape of a boar, glowing red, and pulsing as if it had a life of its own. It stepped out of Filtiarn and onto the ground next to him, turning to where Tom and Elan stood.
It fixed its hollow eye sockets on them and charged across the clearing. Tom was vaguely aware of shouts all around him. He looked at Elan in shock. Was Elan right? Was the curse about to move to him?
Before Tom could do anything Elan had stepped in front of Tom as if to protect him, holding his arms wide as the boar rushed at him. But the form passed through him and on to Tom, its hollow eye sockets getting bigger and bigger, and then it was on him and in him, and he felt the strange sensation of something settling within his blood and bones and mind.
Tom fell to the floor wondering who was screaming, before realising it was him.
And then he passed out.
