Night of the Fifth Moon

ANNA CIDDOR
lives in Melbourne, Australia, but she is always wondering how it would feel to be another person, living in a different time or place. Being an author gives her many opportunities to find out. She spends hours searching through history books, surfing the internet, or questioning strangers about their lives.

While she was writing
Night of the Fifth Moon
, Anna journeyed to Ireland in quest of the lost, pagan world of the druids. She found real ogham stones and iron-age ringforts, and one night she ventured down a dark passage into the earth to climb inside an ancient burial mound.

Anna Ciddor's best-selling books have been translated into other languages, recorded as audio books and shortlisted for various awards. In 2003,
Runestone
was chosen as a Notable Book by the Children's Book Council of Australia and in 2005 Anna was awarded a grant by the Literature Board of the Australia Council for the research and writing of
Night of the Fifth Moon
.

Find out more about Anna Ciddor and her books at
www.annaciddor.com

Other books by the same author

The Viking Magic series
Runestone
Wolfspell
Stormriders

The author wishes to thank the Literature Board of the
Australia Council for their generous support, and the Irish
tourist authority, Fáilte Ireland, for their kind hospitality.

This project has been assisted by the Australian Government through the Australia Council, its arts funding and advisory body.

First published in 2007

Copyright © text and illustrations Anna Ciddor 2007

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

Allen & Unwin
83 Alexander St
Crows Nest NSW 2065

National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:

Ciddor, Anna.
      Night of the fifth moon.
      ISBN 9781741148145 (pbk).
      1. Druids and druidism – Juvenile fiction. I. Title.
A823.3

Cover and text design by Tabitha King
Typefaces include First Order from Iconian Fonts at
http://www.iconian.com/
Typeset by Midland Typesetters, Australia
Printed by McPherson's Printing Group

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Teachers' notes available from
www.allenandunwin.com

CONTENTS

1
     
The omen

2
     
The battle

3
     
First test

4
     
The telling

5
     
Voices from the past

6
     
Ogham

7
     
The Greater Harmony

8
     
Samhain Eve

9
     
Samhain

10
   
The tomb

11
   
Divination

12
   
Spell words

13
   
The first new moon

14
   
Cauldron of Truth

15
   
Fians

16
   
Lessons

17
   
The next new moon

18
   
Nessa's clan

19
   
The longest night

20
   
King's visit

21
   
First snowdrop

22
   
Distraint

23
   
Festival of Imbolc

24
   
Battle preparation

25
   
The Sacred Spring

26
   
The eve of battle

27
   
Full moon

28
   
Battle lines

29
   
Alone

30
   
The ogham message

31
   
The fifth moon

32
   
Initiation

ONLY A TRUE DRUID CAN READ THIS MESSAGE

THE OMEN

The sun was dying in the sky as Faelán the Druid, swathed in a long cloak of blue-green feathers, glided towards the fire. His eyes, like clear pools, glinted with tiny reflected images of the flames, and his hair, the colour of moonbeams, hung in long, twisting locks below his shoulders.

‘Maybe he'll let us join in today,' whispered Ket.

‘And maybe the trees'll lay eggs,' muttered Bran.

‘He's got to let us join in
some
time!'

Every day Ket raced around doing all the tasks that Faelán bid him. He picked nettles till his arms stung with pain from the pricking of the thorns. He clambered up the highest trees and crawled on swaying, brittle branches to fetch feathers from the birds' nests for the druid's cloaks. He stood for hours in freezing mountain streams trapping fish with his bare hands, while his legs turned to ice and leeches sucked his blood.

And every day he watched for a sign from the druid. For he knew that one day the druid would make him an assistant – an anruth. One day he would learn the druid's secrets and take part in the mystic ceremonies. One day . . .

Faelán lifted his branch of golden bells, and Ket bent eagerly forward. But, as usual, the druid turned his back on the group of fosterlings.

‘It's not fair,' pouted Riona.

Ket gulped back a sigh and watched with envy as the four anruth began to circle the fire, their long grey robes almost touching the flames.

‘Spirit of the Moon

Arise from darkness

Spirit of the Moon

Return and guide us,'

they chanted
.

Slowly, the daylight seeped away, and there, hovering near the horizon, was the tiny, fragile crescent of a new moon.

The anruth beamed with pride, then Goll, the tallest, turned and beckoned to the fosterlings. As the six of them scurried across the clearing, Goll pressed a finger to his lips. Faelán still stood with his head tilted back, searching for signs.

With muffled whispers, the fosterlings slipped into their places, and waited. A gust of wind brought an icy spatter of rain and Ket gritted his teeth. It would be another freezing, miserable night, and there was nothing to sleep on but wet leaves and hard ground.

Rain sizzled into the fire, and the brew of wild grass and badger bones bubbled and steamed.

‘I'm
starving
,' hissed Nath-í.

Ket nodded agreement.

‘I could go for days without food if I had to,' asserted Lorccán in a loud whisper.

Bran let out a snort.

‘Ssh!' Nessa shook her head, and the little gold balls at the ends of all her braids clicked and jingled. Riona stifled a giggle.

The druid lowered his gaze, and the firelight illumined his thin, furrowed face.

‘Master Faelán,' called Goll, ‘what shall this day be good for?'

As he spoke, there was a squawk from a nearby tree. Everyone turned in surprise. At such an hour the birds should be asleep. Into the astonished silence flapped the shadowy shape of a raven. It flew so close, Ket could feel the wind of its passing. He stared at the black, glossy wings and knew this was an omen.

Faelán's cloak shimmered in the firelight as he followed its flight. There was no sound but the beating of wings till the raven passed from view, then, slowly and solemnly, the druid faced the inquiring eyes. His words cut into the silence.

‘This,' he announced, ‘is the day for a new beginning.' His gaze swept the circle, and came to rest on the group of fosterlings.

‘It's us!' Nessa gripped Ket's arm. ‘It's a portent for us!'

Faelán nodded. ‘Five times have the harvests been sown and reaped while you fosterlings coveted the bells and robes of the anruth. Five times have the trees budded and shed while I watched for the auspicious hour. Now, at last, the sign has come. However . . .' He raised a warning finger. ‘It is not as you expect. Only one of you will become an anruth.'

The fosterlings gasped and stared at each other in dismay.