The Silver Tower Page 4

  After a clumsy start, some of the skills he’d learnt started to return, but it was going to take time. “It’s all right, Tom,” Arthur had reassured him, “I started to learn as a child, but you’ll get there.”

  Brenna and Woodsmoke would join in, but Beansprout practised using the longbow she usually wore slung behind her back. Woodsmoke had taught her to use it, and every now and again he would break off and watch her progress, adjusting her stance and her grip. It had taken Tom a while to get used to seeing her with a bow; it only reinforced how different things here were from at home.

  A rustling sound disturbed his thoughts, and Arthur wriggled free of the tent to sit next to him. “Morning, Tom, you’re up early,” he said softly to avoid waking the others.

  “I didn’t sleep well, stiff neck,” Tom said, rolling his shoulders.

  Arthur laughed. “Ah, life on the road.”

  “Have you decided what we’re going to do?”

  “I’ve decided that we – me and you – should cross the Cervini land and head towards the fells. It’s more direct and will get us there quicker, but we may be stopped and questioned. The others should go the longer way round and hang back to see what’s happening. That way, if we get caught, we’ve got back up. Brenna can keep an eye on things.”

  “When you say ‘caught’, do you mean imprisoned?” Tom asked, alarmed.

  “I hope not, but you never know.”

  “But why would they imprison us, if we’re only passing through? Woodsmoke said it would be fine.”

  “It depends what they’re up to. I’d actually like to run into them so we can ask them about Nimue.” He thought for a moment, then said, “Unless of course we travel to the White Woods and seek them out, to ask if they’ve seen her passing through.”

  Tom watched as Arthur gazed into space, a furrow between his brows as he worked through his options. “No, it will take too long, and we know where she’s going. Let’s press on.” He smiled at Tom. “We’re getting close.”

  When the others woke up and joined them around the fire, it was apparent they weren’t impressed with the idea of splitting up, and there was a general chorus of disapproval, but Arthur shrugged their protests off.

  Woodsmoke however wasn’t prepared to drop it. As they packed up he said, “There’s strength in numbers, we should stay together. Or at least we should cross Cervini lands and you should go the long way round.”

  “No. I’d rather take the risks than you,” Arthur told him. Tom could tell he was excited at the thought of action, and had no intention of being relegated to a safe role. “Besides, there’s really no risk. You said they weren’t dangerous.”

  “But I don’t know that for sure!” Woodsmoke glared at Arthur. “Besides, it’s not just you who’s at risk.”

  Arthur turned to Tom expectantly. “You’ll be fine, won’t you Tom?”

  “Of course,” Tom said, not willing to upset either Arthur or Woodsmoke.

  Brenna interrupted. “I suppose the suggestion does make some sense, Woodsmoke. If for some reason one group is delayed, the other can continue the search.”

  “That’s settled then,” Arthur said, not giving Woodsmoke time to respond. “I’m sure we’ll meet up at the cave with no problems. And Brenna can keep on eye things, right Brenna?”

  “Of course. But be careful, Arthur!”

  Woodsmoke stood by his horse, adjusting his packs and brooding silently. When he couldn’t contain himself any longer, he rounded on Arthur. “This is rash! We don’t know where Nimue is. She could already be there. She could put a spell on you two, or all of us, and then what?”

  “And this is why we’re splitting up! Besides, she won’t put a spell on us,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

  “She’s hiding her actions from everyone, Arthur. She’s obviously panicking; she’s abandoned all her plans! She’s even avoiding Vivian! We have no idea what she’s capable of. Or what she’s done. Everything we think we know is pure guesswork.”

  “It’s good guesswork and you know it.”

  Arthur and Woodsmoke stopped packing and stared at each other across the smoking remains of the fire.

  “My point is, Arthur,” Woodsmoke said, slowly and deliberately, “you seem to be in a rush to get to Merlin without considering anything else. If the Cervini have found Merlin, what are they doing there? What do they want with him? What if they are working with Nimue? We’ll be outnumbered. We need to find out more before we go stumbling into this! Remember, we were only supposed to be finding Nimue.”

  Arthur answered, as slowly as Woodsmoke, “This is now about much more than just Nimue.”

  “For you.”

  “If Vivian knew–”

  “She doesn’t,” Woodsmoke interrupted. “And you don’t know what she’d think.”

  “I know her better than you do. This is not a discussion. We’ll split up and meet at the rock face by the entrance to the cave. Or as close to it as we can get, depending on the Cervini. Brenna can liaise between us.”

  There was silence as Woodsmoke stared at Arthur. “I think the prospect of you possibly finding Merlin is skewing your judgement. When we get to the rock face, you’d better wait for us before doing anything.” Woodsmoke strode to his horse and finished packing in silence.

  For the next few hours of riding, no one spoke. Woodsmoke rode ahead, and when they eventually split up, his final words were, “Remember to wait, Arthur.”

  6 Scar Face Fell

  Tom and Arthur travelled for the rest of the day without seeing anyone. The land rose higher and the heavy grey skies seemed to get lower and lower, until they felt squashed between them. A stiff breeze flattened the grass, and the chill made Tom pull his cloak closer around him.

  In the distance, the White Woods appeared as a white haze of trees brooding over the windswept landscape. Arthur stopped for a minute to watch the tree line, but nothing moved and no one emerged, so they pressed on, Tom trying to ignore the woods and whatever they might contain.

  At dusk they saw the craggy edge of the fells, breaking up the horizon into a jagged unwelcoming mass. Arthur pushed on despite the failing light, keen to find shelter from the unrelenting wind, as the others had the tent. The horses slowed to a weary trot, picking their way carefully over the broken ground, and eventually, as night fell, they stumbled into a rocky enclave marking the start of the fells.

  The wind dropped immediately, replaced by an eerie silence. It was as if they had fallen into a dark pit. Tom could just make out Arthur’s figure as he slid from his horse to the ground, calling, “Wait there, Tom.”

  Tom heard him scrabbling in his panniers, and then torchlight flared and the darkness scattered to reveal a small irregularly shaped space enclosed by rock and open to the night sky. The floor was covered with dry flattened grass. There were three other exits, opposite to where they had entered.

  Tom dismounted and lit his own torch, waiting as Arthur investigated the other exits. It was unnerving, being on his own, and in the silence Tom became jumpy. He rummaged for some dried meats to chew on and patted Midnight, not sure who was more reassured by this comforting gesture.

  After an interval of several interminable minutes, Arthur reappeared. “Two of them are just small passageways snaking through the rocks, but through this one,” he gestured behind him, “there’s a sheltered rocky hollow where we can light a fire.”

  “What’s wrong with staying here?” Tom asked, thinking it was a good place to settle for the night.

  “It’s too close to the entrance. Follow me.”

  They led their horses down the passage, the harsh clop of hooves echoing off the stone, and after a few minutes came to a circular space protected on all sides by a rock wall. They secured the horses, then lit a fire beneath an overhanging rock. Arthur opened a bottle of dark ale from the inn, and after taking a drink passed it to Tom. He took a deep draught, feeling it warming and relaxing him.

  Tom was shattered, aching from the long days of ridi
ng, the constant wind and uncomfortable sleeping. He rummaged in his pack and took out more dried meats, cheeses and bread, then settled his pack behind him and tried to get comfortable. Arthur sat staring into the fire, deep in thought. Tom nudged him, holding out some food. “Here, Arthur, you should eat.”

  He looked round startled. “Sorry, Tom. Miles away. I don’t know about you, but I think we just rest tonight, no training.”

  “That’s fine by me,” Tom said, relieved. “What do you think will happen? Will we find Merlin?”

  Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know. Now we’re so close, it feels unreal, especially considering how long it’s been. The reality of us actually finding him seems unlikely.”

  “But the Cervini have found something.”

  “That could be anything. It’s just wishful thinking on my behalf. Just like one of those old tales you’ve been reading.”

  "But those tales turned out to be true, didn’t they?” Tom smiled. “I’m sitting with a living legend. I’m actually related to you!” he said smugly.

  Arthur laughed. “Yes, you are. And it’s Merlin’s doing that you’re here now.”

  “Just think,” Tom mused, “if I ever went back to my Earth, I could write the real story of Arthur. And your new tales!”

  “But you’re not going back,” Arthur said, frowning.

  “No, I’m not. It’s just a thought.” Tom took another swig of beer and wriggled into his cloak. “Do you miss your Earth?”

  “Yes and no. I miss my friends, my home, but I don’t miss war or bloodshed. Or endless decisions of policy and state. It’s curious, though, not to have everyone hanging on your every word, looking to you to make every decision.”

  Tom wondered if he’d mention Woodsmoke and their argument earlier, but Arthur just sighed deeply. “It’s actually quite liberating. I have a remarkable amount of freedom here, and anonymity. I like that.”

  “You’re not bored, then?”

  “Not yet.” He said it evenly, but even so, Tom wondered how true that was. Surely it must be hard, going from being a King of Britain to a King of nothing.

  During the night, despite his layers of clothing, cloak and blanket, the cold seeped into Tom’s bones and he woke chilled. Mist had settled into the hollow, blurring the grey rock walls, and he could feel a faint slick of moisture on his face and hair. He sat up and prodded life back into the fire, then put some water on to boil for herb tea. Looking up, all he could see was white mist. A faint murmur of wind penetrated the unearthly silence. It was if they had passed out of this world and into another.

  He felt groggy, as if he’d slept too long. He went to check the time, before remembering he’d taken off his watch and put it in his pack. It didn’t work here.

  Arthur still lay wrapped in his blankets, looking so comfortable that Tom hesitated to wake him. But he was sure they’d slept later than normal, and that they needed to get moving. He shook him until he roused. “Arthur, wake up.”

  Tom stood up and stamped his feet to get warm, then wandered over to where the horses were feeding. At least they looked rested. Tom had a nagging doubt about today, and wished they were with the others ... which then made him feel guilty about doubting Arthur.

  After a quick breakfast and a hot drink, they set off. The mist remained thick and heavy, and a fine drizzle started to fall, further obstructing their view and muffling all sound. They kept the fells close to their right, the height of the massive stretch of rock lost in the mists. Huge chunks of stone, some the size of buildings, littered the floor, and they wound their way around them, listening carefully for any sign of the Cervini.

  They had definitely overslept, and the thick mist delayed them further, so the day was growing steadily darker by the time they heard a low muffled shout. Arthur gestured to Tom to stop, whispering, “Did you hear that?”

  Tom nodded. “Yes, but not what was said.”

  “Let’s leave the horses here and proceed on foot.” Arthur slipped to the ground and led them behind a large outcrop of fallen rock. They secured the horses and, staying close to the shelter of the rocks, edged their way forward.

  They heard another voice, deep and gruff – much closer this time, and edged with amusement. “I think the witch actually looked scared.”

  “She should be,” the first voice called from a short distance away. “Orlas is furious. She’ll be lucky to keep her life.”

  “Well she’d better do what she’s told, then,” the second voice answered.

  Arthur grabbed Tom’s arm and pulled him back a few paces, whispering, “We’ll be lucky if there’s only two on guard. Stay here while I look.”

  Arthur disappeared into the mist, leaving Tom nervously peering around him at the fallen mounds of rock. The voices sounded like they were coming from just ahead and to the left, but the thick mist distorted everything, and he half-expected a Cervini to walk around the rocks and find him hiding.

  Minutes later, Arthur reappeared.

  “They’re sitting a short distance away, at the top of the rise, with their backs to the cave entrance. There may well be more of them out on the slopes, but I can’t see a damn thing in this mist.” He grinned unpleasantly. “They obviously don’t expect visitors from this direction, so we’ll slip quietly behind them and into the caves. Ready?”

  “No, not really,” Tom said, surprised. “We’re supposed to meet the others,” he reminded Arthur. “Shouldn’t we wait? Brenna will be looking for us.”

  “She’ll never find us in this mist.”

  “But we promised Woodsmoke. And they could be very close. Especially as we overslept.”

  Arthur took a deep breath. “Plans change, Tom. We need to act before it’s too late. And besides, if this mist has delayed us, it will definitely have delayed them. They could still be hours away.”

  “But Brenna definitely won’t find us if we’re in a cave.”

  “She’ll see the horses and work it out. Then she can tell the others.”

  Tom’s earlier uneasiness returned. “But Arthur, we don’t know what to expect.”

  “Yes we do! The witch they referred to is Nimue. She’s in there right now, with the Cervini, and not willingly by the sound of it. We cannot afford to wait if we’re going to find Merlin.”

  “But then what? We haven’t properly discussed this!”

  “We are improvising.”

  Tom’s uneasiness started to turn into panic. Arthur had no intention of waiting for the others, and Tom wondered if he was trying to prove a point to Woodsmoke. He stood implacable, clothed in a slight swagger, one hand on Excalibur, his other reaching to grasp Tom’s forearm.

  “Come on, Tom, no time for doubts. We’ll be fine.”

  Tom nodded nervously, sensing that Arthur would go anyway, and he knew he’d rather go with Arthur than be alone. “All right,” he answered eventually.

  “Good, stay close.”

  Arthur led the way, weaving around the stones, making his way to the rock face. The grass was thick and damp, masking their footfalls, but they kept a hand to their swords just in case. As they rounded a large fallen rock, Tom saw the guards. Their backs were to them and they stood close together, laughing and talking, oblivious to their presence. Arthur gestured to his right, and Tom saw the cave entrance, high and narrow, with darkness beyond.

  7 Blind Moor

  Woodsmoke, Beansprout and Brenna stood tucked beneath the overhang of a large rock, Woodsmoke looking angry and worried.

  Poor visibility had threatened to slow their progress, but they had raced recklessly over the uneven ground, Woodsmoke keen to maintain pace despite the mist and drizzle. Brenna had frequently corrected their progress as she flew to and fro, trying to orientate herself.

  “I’m sorry, Woodsmoke,” Brenna said, “but I cannot see through thick mist. I’ve flown very low and I still can’t see them. But you’ll be pleased to know we’re close to the cave.”

  “I knew this would happen!” Woodsmoke said accusingly. �
��Splitting up was a stupid idea. And you encouraged it.”

  “I’m sorry, but it did seem a good idea. We had no idea this mist would come down so thickly for so long.”

  He glared at her and took a deep breath. “Where did you last see them?”

  “At the edge of the rocks last night, a few hours’ ride from the cave. But it was late and they looked fine, so I left them. I can’t see them anywhere today. They should have arrived here hours ago.”

  “They must be somewhere.”

  “Of course they’re somewhere,” she spat.

  “Have you seen the Cervini?”

  “I can see two at the entrance to the cave, but most of them seem to have gone. The mist–”

  “Yes, yes, yes. The mist,” he echoed sarcastically. “So you don’t know where the Cervini are, or where Tom and Arthur are?”

  “No.”

  “I will go. Wait here.” He tossed her his horse’s reins and strode off without a backward glance.

  Beansprout was concerned. “He’s very cross! I’ve never seen him like this before.”

  “I have,” Brenna said with a sigh. “He’s like this when he’s worried, and right now he’s worried about Tom. And even though he’s angry with Arthur, he’s worried about him too. However, I would prefer he did not take it out on me.”

  They fell silent, the mist muffling sight and sound. Beansprout scanned what little she could see of the scrubby grass, heathers and curling ferns crowding together in a thick and luxuriant mass. The two of them waited an uncomfortably long time until Woodsmoke returned.

  “They’re already in the cave,” he said, as he snatched his horse’s reins back from Brenna. He was even more furious than before.

  Beansprout had a jolt of worry race through her. “What? How do you know?”

  “I found their horses tied up a short distance past the cave. And I could smell Tom and Arthur at the cave entrance.”

  “I can’t believe they’ve gone in alone!” Beansprout saw her own shock echoed on Brenna’s face.