THE STORY OF THE CLOCH ADHAIR

The sun descended in the west, nearing the horizon. The Druid still sat beside Seymour, while her two wolves lay at her feet. Both of them stared fixedly at the now less dazzling red ball, which seemed to merge with the ridge of the opposite mountain range. Golden light flowed down the mountain slopes like glowing lava and faded away. The moment they had eagerly awaited, tinged with even more fear, had arrived. Tara rose stiffly. Seymour positioned himself by her side. Her hand reached out, seeking comfort in his reassuring warmth. Moments stretched into eternity. The sun had set, yet nothing stirred in the small earth hollow under the cairn.

Should we move the slab aside?

"Can you reach her mind?" the Druid asked, barely audible.

Seymour tentatively extended his thoughts. Her presence came upon him so suddenly and overwhelmingly that he stumbled backward.

It's damn tight in here! Couldn't you have found something larger?

The stone slab trembled. A second shove made it wobble. It rose slowly, lingered for a moment in a vertical position, and then fell with a dull thud to the ground. Seymour and the Druid had to jump back to avoid being crushed.

Ivy crawled out of the earth hole, stood up, and brushed the dirt from her clothes. "What are you staring at? Let's go! They already have too much of a head start."

There she stood, radiantly beautiful as the full moon. Her silver curls shimmered down her back. Her skin was almost translucent like mother-of-pearl and unscathed. The turquoise eyes sparkled with determination. Tara let out a cry and pulled Ivy to her chest in an unusual gesture. Seymour pressed against her legs.

"It's all right," Ivy tried to reassure lightly, but her voice sounded strained. "Come on, let's go. The tracks fade with every hour we waste."

Seymour rubbed his head against her thigh, but then he suddenly bit her hand.

"Ouch! What's that for? How could you? Look, it's bleeding!" Ivy stuck her torn fingers into her mouth and gave the wolf a reproachful look.

Never do that again! My job is to protect you. How can I fulfill that duty if you don't listen to me? You know how narrowly you escaped!

"Yes," Ivy admitted meekly. "And it would have been over for me if you hadn't come and brought me to the cave. I didn't have the strength anymore. Thank you!" She looked into his eyes for a moment, then turned away. "We have to go. Will you climb with us over the ridge?"

"I'll take Álainn and cross the pass of Maumeen, then rejoin you. Take Ciallmhar with you and send him to me when you've crossed the mountain. Once we know which direction they're heading, we'll return to Aughnanure." She saw the resistance in Ivy's eyes, but the Druid remained steadfast.

"We have to tell them what happened! Do you want them to be in danger because they don't suspect that we haven't fulfilled our mission? A military action by the werewolves is more likely than ever!"

"No, I don't want that."

Ivy set off with Seymour and the Druid's gray wolf over the ridge, while Tara descended with the other wolf to her horse and then rode as fast as she could southward until a deep notch in the mountain range showed her the way to the pass.

This time, Ivy refrained from taking the form of the falcon. The werewolves had too much of a head start for her to hope to spot them from the air. Instead, she transformed into a wolf with a shimmering silver fur and raced up the mountainside ahead of the others and then back down the other side. She was sure that the trail would lead them across the isthmus between Lough Mask and Lough Corrib, but shortly past the small village of Maum, the tracks led down to the shore. Ivy couldn't believe it. She followed them to a partially decayed jetty, walked back a bit, and made sure she hadn't made a mistake. Then she returned to the jetty, where Seymour was waiting for her. Ciallmhar had sent her to his mistress. Ivy resumed her true form, sat down on the wooden planks, and rested her head in her hands.

"They took a boat!" she groaned.

Yes, they're clever and know they're being pursued to find out where they're taking the stone. And water is the only way if they don't want to leave any tracks.

Ivy stared out at the nighttime lake. Although she had no hope that the werewolves were still near in their ship, she transformed into the falcon once more and flew over the smooth surface of Lough. Seymour waited impatiently on the shore. He didn't let her thoughts distract him for a moment and soon urged her to return.

"You know you can't find them this way."

Reluctantly, Ivy flew back to the shore. "They can't stay on the lake forever. They have to come ashore somewhere, and then there will be a trail again," she said, reverting to her human form. "We need to hurry back to Aughnanure and then search the shore in groups. If we move quickly, the trail will still be fresh enough for us to track them down."

"The Lough is large. And the Corrib River flows into Galway Bay."

Ivy hadn't even considered this thought. She sat down beside him on the jetty. "You mean they're heading out to sea?"

"It's possible. From their perspective, it would be wise to find a hiding spot that vampires might not discover for centuries. A cave along the lonely coast or one of the small islands?"

Ivy said nothing. She just sat there silently, gazing at the water until she heard the hoofbeats of the dappled mare.

"So they've crossed the Lough," said the Druid. "I feared it ever since their trail turned eastward."

"We have no choice but to hurry back to Aughnanure to continue the search with reinforced forces. And if we comb every inch of the shore!"

"But what if they're heading for the sea?"

"If they wanted to go to the sea, why didn't they go straight west to the coast?" Ivy countered.

"To mislead us?"

"Perhaps."

Ivy approached the Druid and then followed the mare along the western shore of the Lough until she spotted the fishing boats of Oughterard, calmly lying on the mirror-smooth lake.

No, she hadn't returned yet. Franz Leopold had hoped until the last minute that Ivy would show up, even though he knew she couldn't make it to the mountain peaks they called the Twelve Bens and back in one night. Especially since he didn't know the purpose of her journey and how much time it would take. Nevertheless, he felt a strange emptiness as he stood beside her abandoned coffin, which had not been used throughout the day.

"I can't wait for her to come back and tell us everything," said Alisa, who had come to his side. He just grunted and made his way down to the hall one floor below. There, not only their blood ration awaited the heirs but also the news that their lessons would continue tonight.

"We've lost a lot of time on our journey, even though you've surely learned something, but now it's time to continue with our transformations. Only a few have managed to take the form of a wolf, let alone more difficult shape-shifts," Donnchadh said, looking around.

"Do we have to stay here all night again?" Tammo asked.

"Yes, it would be much nicer to practice outside," Ireen agreed.

"It's unbearable to be locked up in this tower!" Anna Christina added.

"We weren't just in the tower, but also in the courtyard," Malcolm corrected, but he also voted to leave Aughnanure for a few hours. None of the heirs wanted to spend the whole night within the castle walls again.

Donnchadh glanced at Catriona, then nodded. "All right, we'll go to the cemetery of Oughterard. There we can work undisturbed, and the others have the opportunity to take turns going hunting while you practice your exercises."

Everyone who had accompanied them since Dunluce came along. Only the residents of Aughnanure decided to stay among themselves and visit a village in the south of the Lough.

Donnchadh and Catriona led their charges down to the shore and then followed a narrow path along the water until they came to the fishing boats of the village. Already they could see the tower of the half-ruined cemetery church looming in the west. The wrought-iron door hung slightly askew on its rusted hinges and squeaked as Donnchadh pushed it open. The leader of the Lycans allowed the young vampires to look around the surprisingly spacious graveyard.

In one corner were obviously the graves of the miners and the many poor people who, for a handful of coins, struck the ore from the marble with a hammer. There were also very old graves, a few with richly decorated tombstones, but even more with simple stones or crosses. The most valuable graves seemed to be either near the church or even embedded in the floor of the church itself, which must have been excavated after the church was abandoned to decay.

Franz Leopold noticed that the Lycans and most of the servants who had come with the heirs avoided the church. They preferred to stay outside the walls while Alisa, Luciano, and he strolled through the now roofless nave and examined the tombstones. Without really thinking about it, the Dracas prepared himself for the first signs of unrest and formed a shield from his defensive powers to protect him from the pain and the dulling of the senses caused by the proximity of church objects and protective spells. Even Alisa at his side showed no signs of discomfort and bent curiously over some of the blessings. Despite himself, he had to pay homage to Conte Claudio and the Clan of Nosferas. They had used the past year well, protecting the heirs against church magic and thereby depriving the vampire hunters of one of their most effective weapons.

Franz Leopold ran his fingers over the figure of a small guardian angel, meant to protect the dead in their graves from the creatures of the night, and felt the magic tingle on his skin, weakened to a mere tickle. The Dracas grinned broadly. And now he was learning how to subdue animals and make use of their forms.

Alisa and Luciano left the church ruins and continued to stroll among the graves. Matthias and Francesco followed them at a slight distance. Hindrik had taken on the task of watching over Tammo and, much to his dismay, the two Pyras. In the corner of the cemetery farthest from the village, they discovered a large number of graves, all of which must have been made within a few years. They were plain, some even resembling mass graves. Only a few had stones with names and years. Franz Leopold leaned forward to decipher them.

"They all seem to have died between 1846 and 1848," he remarked.

"Do you think these are the victims of the uprisings Áine told us about?" Alisa asked.

"No, they are not the children of the revolution, although they can certainly be counted among the victims of oppression," said Ainmire, who led Malcolm and Ireen to them. "They are the victims of the Great Famine. It was in the year 1845 when the potatoes rotted in the ground, and the following year this disease destroyed the harvest. It led to a famine unlike anything Ireland had ever experienced. People died by the thousands from exhaustion or diseases like cholera, which spread rapidly. Entire villages were deserted, and for years, every night, we had long journeys to find healthy blood."

Malcolm approached Alisa and took his place by her side as a matter of course. He placed his hand on her arm, and she smiled at him. Franz Leopold felt a wave of anger rise within him and the urge to push his arm away or, better yet, to punch the presumptuous Vyrad in the face. Why did he constantly intrude on them? But Alisa didn't mind. Her obvious delight was downright disgusting! Yes, he could almost feel drunken excitement. Franz Leopold forced himself to detach his thoughts from her mind. He was disappointed that he wouldn't be practicing with her now.

No, disappointed was too strong a word. He didn't care about Alisa, of course. A Vamalia! It was just pleasant to work with someone not quite as clumsy or simple-minded. Hence, practicing with Luciano was out of the question! Besides, Ainmire called the Nosferas to him to help him overcome his difficulties with transformation. So, only the little London girl, Ireen, remained. Franz Leopold regarded her contemptuously. She was small for her fifteen years, her build still too childish. The protruding teeth and freckles only emphasized her insignificance further.

However, the always fearful expression with which she had flitted like a ghost through the Domus Aurea in Rome was gone, as Franz Leopold suddenly realized with astonishment. She dared to look him in the eye.

Franz Leopold raised his eyebrows. The disdainful look he so well mastered should suffice to show the Vyrad where her place was, but she didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Well, shall we begin? Do you want to go first? I'll help you with my powers," he said.

Franz Leopold nodded graciously. Actually, he could do without it. What energy could this pathetic creature gather to support him? He didn't need Ireen. He had managed quite well with the transformation in the moor alone, and there were certainly enough energy currents underground here for him to draw upon. A little further away, Alisa had already taken on the form of her wolf. Franz Leopold averted his gaze and focused on his inner self. His powers weren't enough yet. His mind reached out for the streams of the rocks underground. Then a beam of energy shot through him, surprising him enough to widen his eyes. It took him a moment to realize that it came from Ireen. She looked at him questioningly.

Franz Leopold was so astonished that he could only stare back. Who would have thought! He quickly composed himself, and soon the mists swirled, and he emerged as a wolf. He was no longer surprised when Ireen had no difficulty following his example with his support. She even consumed so little of his energy that he wondered if she could have done it alone. Her cousin Malcolm, on the other hand, drained all of Alisa's energy, which he could tell just from her distorted face. Franz Leopold looked over at Luciano, who was struggling under Ainmire's instructions and shortly thereafter stood in the form of a wolf. He looked less ragged than during his first attempt in the moor. Maybe he wasn't a hopeless case after all. Franz Leopold and Ireen transformed again with mutual help, then they tried it alone and were pleased to succeed.

"I think that's enough for today," Franz Leopold said, glancing sideways at Ainmire, who was completely focused on Luciano. He was about to suggest that they could each train a little alone, but Ireen was quicker, nodded to him, and then withdrew to another part of the cemetery. That suited Franz Leopold just fine. His keen hearing had detected a wolf whose call he recognized. It was approaching from the north!

Unobtrusively, Franz Leopold ducked behind the gravestones and hurried to the entrance closest to the village. He caught a glimpse of white fur and then a silver tuft of hair. A strange fluttering feeling spread within him. Franz Leopold opened the door and bowed as Ivy and Seymour emerged from between the bushes and walked towards the cemetery. She didn't seem surprised to see him here, but she was also a master at controlling her features and hiding her thoughts.

"You're late," he said with a stern voice, noticing against his will how he smiled.

"The lesson has already begun? My apologies!" Ivy retorted, returning the smile. She entered, and Franz Leopold closed the gate behind her.

"And? As I see, you've already finished your exercises, or did you leave without permission?"

"Would I do such a thing?"

She laughed. Seymour emitted a deep growl. "How did it go?" she asked in a carefully neutral tone.

"Oh, not bad. We practiced the practical application in the moors, so we're benefiting from that interesting experience now."

To his surprise, Ivy lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry."

"What? That you rejected our support and left us to carry you back?" He couldn't prevent the anger from welling up within him again.

"It's a wonderful feeling to have such loyal friends, and precisely because I feel so committed to you and your well-being, I had to make that decision. I would have had to fear for you and for our mission."

She sighed deeply.

"So your mission succeeded after you got rid of us."

Ivy shook her head. "No, we arrived too late. They were already gone."

"Who? And what did you do there? I want to understand what was so important that we rushed here from Aillwee. So urgent that this failure plunged you into such a desperate mood. No, don't deny it, I can feel it, even though you try to hide it from me." He reached for her hand and forced her to turn to him.

"It's complicated. Where should I start?"

"How about at the beginning? And believe me, my mental abilities are quite capable of grasping complex connections!" Ivy pondered for a moment, then said:

"Perhaps it began with the stone we call cloch adhair, the ancient stone, as it seems to have always been there." 

"Yes, tell us about the stone and your mission that led you through the moors and into the mountains!" Alisa's voice suddenly rang out.

Franz Leopold spun around. Not only was she getting better at the art of shapeshifting, but she was also becoming too good at sneaking up unnoticed. Or was Ivy's presence starting to cloud his senses? Ivy withdrew her hand from him. Together, they strolled towards the walls of the old church. Here they would be undisturbed.

"Where is Luciano?"

"He and Malcolm are having an extra lesson under Ainmire's supervision. He's progressing slowly. Luciano, I mean." Alisa didn't mention Malcolm, but Franz Leopold caught a thought of disappointment about his progress being so timid. He grinned at her, but Alisa avoided his gaze.

"Well, Ivy?"

"The cloch adhair is mentioned on some tablets in Ogham script that were made before Christ's birth. By educated members of the first Celtic society living here. And yet, they don't speak of having made it! It seems to be even older. Perhaps it dates back to the time when the megaliths and dolmens were created, the stone circles and Newgrange. The cloch adhair has the shape of the island of Ireland, and incredible powers lie dormant within it. It must come from deep within the earth, but in its appearance, it resembles the Connemara marble with its ore inclusions. Its power is so strong that it pulsates like a heart. And so it is not wrong to say that it is the heart of Ireland and the band of marble beneath the moor the soul of Ireland. Anyway, the Druids passed the stone from generation to generation to the most powerful among them. Its task was to guard the heart of Ireland in the cave up in the Beanna Beola, as the Celts called the Twelve Bens. But as it goes with the powerful artifacts of this earth, a secret doesn't remain a secret for long, and then desires awaken. When the Christian monks began to displace the Druids, they set out in search of the stone to destroy it, for how could something be more powerful than their cross and relics? But they failed to get their hands on the stone, which, as they say, was the merit of a great Druid."

She paused meaningfully. "His name was Turlough."

Alisa and Franz Leopold looked at her bewilderedly, but then almost simultaneously, their minds were enlightened by the memory.

"Turlough? The bard we saw at Dunluce?"

"The filí!" Alisa corrected. Ivy nodded. "But you're not suggesting that he himself was it!"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm claiming! Perhaps he was seeking immortality back then, to continue guarding the stone. In any case, he became what he is today: the last filí from the time of the great Celtic kings - and a vampire, the oldest Lycana still in existence."

"Strictly speaking, though, he's impure, not a Lycana in the sense of the bloodline!" Franz Leopold objected.

"Can we say that for sure? The origin of the vampires and the six families still existing today is shrouded in mystery. In any case, the stone came into the hands of the vampires. But there was another magical species on the island, vying for influence and power - and at times simply fighting for survival, as the werewolves were ruthlessly hunted, by humans and vampires alike. Yet, they managed to decisively turn the centuries-long war with the vampires in their favor through a trick."

"They stole the stone!" Alisa speculated.

"Yes, they occupied the cave on the Twelve Bens. I don't know if they granted Turlough mercy or couldn't destroy him, but in any case, he left Connemara and has since become a restless wanderer. Vampires, werewolves, and Druids, the advocates of humans, realized that it was time to stop killing and destroying. It was Tara's merit that they agreed to a meeting to negotiate the terms of peace. They gathered at the megaliths of Srahmee, up in Murrisk by Clew Bay, and deliberated. Turlough was there, as were the werewolf Áthair Faolchu, Donnchadh's grandfather, who represented the Lycana at the time, and a dozen others."

"And Catriona?" Alisa wanted to know.

"Yes, Catriona was there too," Ivy reluctantly agreed. "There was much debate during these deliberations, and demands swirled back and forth. I won't bore you with the various positions. In any case, Turlough interrupted the dispute, as it was about to escalate, to report something incredible. During his long time as the guardian of the cloch adhair, it happened - on the night of a very special cosmic alignment - that the stone began to pulsate, and three almost round pieces detached from its underside. Turlough began to work on them until they became three wonderful bracelets. He placed these children of the Irish heart in the middle of the megalithic tomb and began to speak of a pact that the cloch adhair itself would hold together."

"One bracelet for the vampires, one for the werewolves, and one for the Druids," Alisa said.

Ivy nodded. "Yes, that was his proposal."

Suddenly, Franz Leopold reached out and grasped Ivy's wrist. He pushed her sleeve back, revealing the bracelet she had been wearing since they first met.

"This is it, isn't it?"

"Yes, this bracelet comes from the heart of Ireland and was once part of the cloch adhair."

"Tara also wears one," Alisa suddenly remembered.

"That's correct. In any case, all parties accepted the proposal. There was only dispute about who should guard the heart itself in the depths of the Beanna Beola."

"Why didn't they send a joint delegation?" Alisa wanted to know. Ivy smiled weakly.

"Werewolves, vampires, and Druids are not meant to live together - with a few exceptions perhaps. So it was agreed that each party would take turns guarding for ninety-nine years. Since the werewolves had conquered the mountains, including the cave, they insisted that their clan take the lead, and the others reluctantly agreed. However, the owners of the bracelets were to have free access to the stone at any time, because they don't inherently contain the land's power. They're just a weak part that absorbs energy near the heart and then gradually releases it. My bond to Ireland and thus the protection the bracelet gives me is strongest after visiting the cave and then diminishes with each passing night until it eventually fades completely. That's why it was time to return to the Beanna Beola to reunite the bracelet with the heart."

"It didn't work," said Alisa, scrutinizing Ivy critically.

"No, even though Áthair Faolchu assured us of access until the new moon, the clan left the mountain and took the stone with them."

"He shouldn't have removed the stone at all!" Alisa exclaimed indignantly. "That violates the agreement they made with the vampires and the Druids!"

"From what time does this pact date?" Franz Leopold wanted to know. "If I may guess, it's almost ninety-nine years ago, isn't it?"

Ivy nodded. "Yes, the werewolves' time is running out, and now a part of the clan seems no longer willing to uphold the agreement."

"How could they!" Alisa cried out in outrage.

"They feel betrayed by the vampires and the Druids," Ivy said softly.

"Rightly so?" Franz Leopold pressed.

Ivy shrugged. "I would say: no. But now one of theirs is dead, and they claim the Lycana murdered him. And look at Áine! Is she the victim of unjust retaliation? Voices among the Lycana are also calling for reigniting the war."

"Do you know where they've taken the stone?" Alisa asked.

"No. We were able to track their traces to the shores of Lough. There, they boarded a boat."

"Very clever," growled Franz Leopold.

"Then they could be anywhere!" Alisa exclaimed in horror. "How will you find the stone? This puts the werewolves in a powerful position against you."

"That's why Tara rode ahead to Aughnanure to speak with Gareth. He knows the area around Lough best. We must search the shores in groups. They must have landed somewhere. And if not, then they're on one of the islands. We will find them!"

"And then what? Do you plan to forcibly take the stone from them?"

"I hope not, Alisa. Perhaps we can persuade them without violence to uphold the pact and hand the stone over to the Druids on the night of Samhain."

"We'll help search for them!" Franz Leopold rose to his feet. "The more of us there are, the faster we'll find their trail. What are we waiting for?"

"Where are you going?" Ainmire asked, approaching the archway that once held the heavy church doors. The Lycana hesitated as if held back by an invisible door before crossing the threshold with his feet.

"They want to help track down Áthair Faolchu's clan," Ivy explained.

The Lycana raised his eyebrows in question. "More details will be reported by Tara once we return to Aughnanure. She's conferring with Gareth at this moment."

"Then let's go," Ainmire suggested. "It's pointless to continue practicing. Most of us are too exhausted."

They gathered at the gate and then set off together. Joanne and Fernand had managed to complete their transformation without outside help that night. Mervyn had practiced with Alisa's cousin Sören and taught him many tricks. The two boys, who had otherwise been rather solitary, seemed to be slowly growing fond of each other. Luciano had done quite well, and Malcolm had apparently made progress too. Rowena was starting to vary her form, turning into a white, then a black wolf, or a spotted dog. On the way home, she tried transforming into a tabby cat. It was hard to believe that the older Malcolm had so much more difficulty - not to mention Raymond. He seemed to be afraid of the others' wolves. Chiara and Maurizio were still struggling, while Tammo boasted loudly about his successes, while Franz Leopold's relatives were again complaining about something. Franz Leopold paid no attention to the other Dracas. Too many questions were swirling in his head. The more he thought about it, the clearer it became to him that Ivy hadn't told him everything. He would get to the bottom of this. She could count on that.