by John Lenahan
Often the shields would drop when someone went down and I saw with a heavy heart that most of the attackers were Brownies. I scoured the field to see if Jesse was in the group. What lies had Cialtie told the Brownies to make them do such a foolish thing? How stupid could King Bwika be if he thought that an alliance with my uncle would be good for his people?
As they came closer the ladder-bearers got smarter and hunkered down behind their shields. Brendan stopped firing and we just watched as they approached the line were I had buried the Connemara marble. Some of the advancing soldiers noticed the lack of arrow fire and boldly stuck their heads above their shields so as to see what was going on. They looked nervous. They knew something was going to happen. A good soldier always knows that whenever war gets easy – that’s the time to worry.
I was worried.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dumb Idea
They were behind their shield/ladders so I didn’t see it happen. Half of the ladders just fell as if there had never been anyone carrying them. Almost all the rest of the shield/ladder teams had fatalities. The ones that survived were in shock after experiencing galloping old age.
A group of three newly made octogenarians dropped their shields and tried to hobble back to their own lines where they were reminded that retreat was not an option. Their own men filled them with arrows. The remaining men, some looking ancient, regrouped under a handful of shield/ladders. An archer shot one of them before Brendan could stop him. We did nothing as the old men found the base of the walls and set up their siege ladders. It was pathetic to watch the terrified and exhausted soldiers struggling up the ladders with swords drawn. No one lifted a bow or a blade to stop them.
A guy who looked like he was over a hundred crested the wall to my right, sword drawn. As I went to him he jabbed the blade at me, but I casually parried it to the right and grabbed his wrist with both of my hands. I shook the sword free of his grasp as he swung pathetic punches with his other hand. He was panting and out of breath as I pulled him from his ladder and onto the parapet.
‘It’s OK,’ I said to him, ‘we won’t hurt you.’
The fall to the ground had obviously pained him. I wondered if he had broken his hip or something. I felt awful, like I had started a fight in an old folks’ home. When he finally rolled onto his back he had tears in his eyes. ‘What happened to me?’ he said.
When Cialtie realised that instead of fighting the attackers we were actually saving them, he ordered a resumption of the crossbow fire. In the end we saved about half who tried to scale the walls. A couple who were young and unaffected by the marble spell put up a fight but most, like any old man after climbing a fifty-foot ladder, appreciated the help.
Araf and I locked up our prisoners of war. I wondered if Tuan had enough blood in him to help all of the new Grey Ones that we would have after this thing was over. No, not this thing – this war. We were at war. I was at war – again – and it made me sick to my stomach. I watched in horror as people marched and died, as comrades took arrows and attackers fell screaming. I had been here before. I had been in battle and I knew that this was just the beginning. That it would get worse and worse until it was just me and someone else, toe to toe, swords drawn. Me and a stranger with whom I had no quarrel would be locked into the dance called kill or be killed. But the part I dreaded most was what would happen to me. What I would become when it was just me or him. That was the time when the primordial part of my brain would flood with those Neanderthal endorphins that would fool me into thinking I was enjoying this. Like some stupid junkie who thinks heroin is his friend, I would revel in the event. I had experienced that battle lust before and it had scared me, revolted me, but at the same time I had never felt so alive. I was afraid to experience that again. Right there and then I swore I wouldn’t.
Dragon Tuan kept glancing over his shoulder and giving me that look.
‘Keep your eyes on the road … or the air,’ I shouted to him. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
The Pooka turned his huge reptilian head back towards the open skies but not before he gave a smoky snort that I interpreted as, ‘Do you?’
The brimstone smoke made me tear up. As I rubbed my eyes I wondered, Do I know what I’m doing? I hadn’t told anybody other than Tuan about this escapade. My dragon pal had wanted nothing to do with it until I blackmailed him. I wasn’t proud of myself but it did tickle me that probably the most powerful creature in all of The Land could be so easily manipulated by threatening to tell his mom he had an Imp girlfriend.
I definitely hadn’t told my mom where I was going. I didn’t even have to wonder what her response would be. Hey, I knew what everyone’s opinion of what I was about to do would be. They’d all say I was crazy and I’d be lying if I said a pretty big part of me didn’t agree with them.
I shivered in my dragon saddle. Tuan had warned me that I would need a coat but as usual I hadn’t listened. It was so warm at ground level I couldn’t imagine that we would be flying high enough so as to see my breath. What else was I unprepared for?
It was easy to imagine how badly Dad was going to flip out when he heard about this. Tuan wasn’t even supposed to be in dragon form let alone flying over enemy lines. I think maybe that was one of the reasons Tuan had agreed to help me – he was miffed that Dad had grounded him. Dad had said that they would be expecting us to use Dragon Tuan as a weapon and he was sure they had an anti-dragon defence waiting. Dad ordered Tuan to stay at ground level for his own safety but my Pooka buddy thought that maybe he should have had a say in this decision. Saying that, if Cialtie did have anti-dragon cannons, Tuan wanted to be out of range and that’s why we were flying so high.
We were almost to the drop zone. I looked over the side of my magical mount and saw the tiny campfires below just beginning to be lit. They were pinpricks of light and I wondered if this is what the paratroopers on D-day felt like. But then I thought, at least those guys jumped as a team – I am going in there all by myself with no real plan and no real parachute. I came close to not going through with it, but then in my mind’s eye I saw the bleeding and bloated corpses of my friends and family. Before I could chicken out I just pulled my feet out of the stirrups and slid off into the twilight sky.
I always thought that I would never have enough courage for skydiving, and now here I was jumping off a dragon without a parachute. I hoped my yew staff was up to the demands that I was about to put on it and, for that matter, I hoped I had enough command over the staff so as not to become a strain. I had tied some ropes around my waist and then attached them to the staff in case the G-forces were too much for my hands. After all, skydivers don’t hang by their hands from parachutes.
As The Land began to get closer below me I decided it was time to order my yew staff to slow my descent. I was sure I told it to slow down just the tiniest bit, but as usual the stick read that as slow down a lot and I was almost cut in half by the force on my waist. I now see why skydivers use harnesses around their backsides and not rope tied around their waists. I instantly had the wind knocked out of me and worried I had ruptured some vital internal organ. I lost grip on the staff and went back into free-fall. When I finally got my senses back I was a lot closer to the ground than I wanted to be. I once again asked for a tiny slowdown and got it. I inched up the magical anti-gravity and, bit by bit, I was just about under control when I hit the ground. I rolled like a good paratrooper and then tried to stand. My midsection felt like I had just gone twelve rounds with a welterweight boxing champion but worse than that, I was exactly opposite to where I wanted to be.
The Brownies had bivouacked on the edge of the yew forest. Luckily I had fallen inside of the guarded perimeter which meant the sentries were looking the wrong way when I descended from the sky. However, I was on the wrong side of the camp. Since I had been given freedom of the Yewlands, I hoped I would touch down close enough to the forest so I could scamper into the yews if there was trouble. Only an idiot would follow me into Ioho but consid
ering where I was, there would be no briar patch for this Brer Rabbit to escape into. I had worn a Brownie-like cloak, so I pulled the hood over my head and started walking for the centre of camp. There were a lot of Brownies here. It made me wonder if anybody was left in the Alderlands but it gave me confidence. If it had just been a small troop someone might have wondered who I was, but since almost the entire Brownie nation was here I didn’t expect anyone to say, ‘I never saw you at the Brownie prom.’
Now that I was in the thick of this huge camp I started to wonder what was I thinking? My plan seemed like a good idea back at Castle Duir when I was all fired up, but here I started to realise how thin and downright stupid it was – not to mention dangerous. My idea was to find Jesse and then get him to let me in to see his father so I could talk some sense into him. Now I knew why I hadn’t told anybody about this plan. I knew they would try to talk me out of it or forbid it, and now that I was here I realised that they were right. I repeat – what was I thinking?
I reached into my robe and fumbled for my ropes to attach to my yew staff. Tuan said he would fly around as a bat or something looking for a signal and would pick me up in the sky. I felt bad about chickening out on my noble quest but I remembered my Shakespeare: ‘The better part of valour is discretion.’ Dad had once told me that the great thing about Shakespeare is you can always find a quote to help you justify anything. I remembered saying, ‘Don’t you mean Shookspeare?’ He looked at me confused. ‘You know, ’cause he’s dead.’
I let out a snorting laugh at the memory. Hey, if I don’t laugh at my jokes – who will? I heard a whispering voice ask, ‘Conor?’
Twilight was almost finished. Out of the darkness, Jesse walked up to me and pushed back my hood, then quickly pulled it back up again. Of all the things that could have given me away, it had to be my laugh.
‘What are you doing here?’ he hissed.
‘It was such a lovely night for a stroll I …’
He grabbed my arm and dragged me over to a more secluded spot. ‘If you are discovered here it will be your death – and now maybe mine too. You are here to spy? How many of you are there?’
‘No,’ I said louder than I meant to and then quietly added, ‘no, I came to talk to you and your father.’
‘Why?’
‘I wanted to try to talk you out of attacking Duir.’
‘And what magical rhetoric did you have in mind that would turn all of these soldiers into farmhands?’ This was a much more forceful and confident Jesse than I had known from just last winter.
‘I … I just was going to say that – you can’t trust Cialtie.’
Jesse turned away, mad, then spun and planted his face inches from mine. ‘Are you that stupid? You thought if you showed up and said “pretty please” we would all go home?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘well, yes. I’m sorry Jesse, I saw so many Brownies die today – I just had to do something to stop it. As soon as I got here I realised what a dumb idea this was. I was just about to fly out when you heard me.’
The old childlike Jesse flickered in the Brownie’s eyes. ‘You can fly?’
‘Well, up and down.’
‘What good would that do?’
‘Tuan’s out there ready to pick me up.’
Jesse quickly backed up and looked to the sky. ‘Your battle dragon is above us now?’ He said that louder than he should have and others began to notice.
I tried to quiet him down. ‘He’s not a battle dragon and he’s only here as a taxi service.’
‘A what?’
‘To give me a ride. This was … is a peace mission. I promise.’
Jesse calmed down. ‘I believe you, Conor, but coming here was madness.’
‘Well, I’m famous for my wit and good looks, not my smarts.’
Jesse forced a pained smile. ‘If we win this war you don’t think Cialtie will give the Brownies Duir?’
‘You know he won’t, Jesse.’
Jesse nodded.
‘And what will your father do when he realises that Cialtie has tricked him?’
Jesse turned his back on me and then in the dark I heard him say with a sigh, ‘He will declare war on the Banshees.’
‘And how will that turn out?’
Jesse didn’t answer so I answered for him. ‘Win or lose, there can be no good in this.’
He turned back. The only light came from a distant campfire that flickered and danced on Jesse’s face. It created an illusion – one second I saw the confident young commander that he had become and the next I saw the frightened young boy. His eyes gleamed with boyish water but the soldier refused to allow a tear to fall. ‘What should I do, Conor?’
I never got to answer. Not that I had an answer. Torkc guards appeared like magic out of the darkness. I got broadsided by an uncharacteristically brawny Brownie and went down like a quarterback on a broken play. The wind was knocked out of me for the second time in half an hour. I was still seeing stars when I was dragged to my feet. Then somebody clocked me in the head with something and I saw galaxies.
I awoke sitting on a wooden floor with my hands tied to a wooden pillar in the middle of a very large and very nice tent. As my eyes focused I saw a dais and at the top was the Alder Throne. This was King Bwika’s tent. It didn’t surprise me that the old jerk made his subjects cart around his quarter-ton throne. Those who are insecure in their power never leave their trappings of power behind. My father, on the other hand, only sat on the Oak Throne when he absolutely had to.
To my left and right there were guards. ‘Hey guys,’ I said, ‘I’m not planning on making any trouble. Would you mind untying me?’
I didn’t even get a smirk for my effort. ‘No prob, I’m fine like this really.’
But despite what I said, I wasn’t fine. In fact, I was in deep do-do. Bwika had me dead to rights. He now had me as a bargaining chip, a hostage. My mom and dad would now be forced to decide what was more important to them – their kingdom or their son. They would choose the kingdom – at least I hoped they would. I couldn’t blame them after raising a son as stupid as me. And what if Bwika told Cialtie? I’m pretty sure my uncle would send me home a piece at a time. I could see him sending Mom and Dad an ear-gram with his list of demands. After that, my nickname could be Van Gogh.
I heard a bunch of people enter the tent from behind. Jesse appeared in my peripheral vision flanked by three guards. He wasn’t tied up or anything but he didn’t look like he was free to go. I almost said hello to him but decided he was in enough trouble without me adding to it. When he caught my eye there was no smile.
We were left waiting like this for a long while before Bwika waddled in flanked by his snazzily dressed honour guard. I know I should have been worried about other things but I asked the guard nearest me, ‘How do you get your shirts ironed so neatly way out here?’
Bwika stopped in front of his dais and said, ‘Prince Codna, inform the prisoner that he is to speak only when spoken to.’
Jesse looked to his dad then to me and said, ‘Prince Conor, you are to speak only when …’
‘No,’ shouted Bwika. ‘Like this.’ The king turned, strode up and backhanded me across the face.
The blow cracked something in my jaw and my vision went white around the edges. I thought I was definitely going to pass out and then wished I had. Every part of me from the neck up screamed in pain.
By the time I was seeing things without little birdies flying around, Bwika was sitting on his throne.
‘Who else is with you, spy?’ Bwika asked.
‘I didn’t come here to spy, Your Highness.’
Bwika whistled and the rope around my chest tightened. All of the air was forced out of my lungs and I thought I was going to suffocate. Another whistle came from the king and I once again could breathe.
‘Don’t think about lying again, Faerie. Did you come to corrupt my son?’
‘I admire your son, Your Highness. I imagine he is incorruptible.’
‘Don�
�t bandy words with me, Faerie. Why are you here?’
‘I came to warn you,’ I said.
‘About what?’
‘I came to warn you about Cialtie – he is not to be trusted.’
The king said nothing.
‘My uncle started this war so he can take Duir for himself. He needs to retake the Oak Throne in order to fulfil Ona’s prophecies. He will never let you or the Brownies have it.’
Bwika stared at me for long enough to make me wonder if maybe I had gotten through to him. Then he laughed. That cocky laugh that reaffirmed what I always thought about the Brownie monarch – he was an idiot.
I hung my head and whispered to Mom and Dad like it was a prayer, ‘I’m so sorry for the trouble I’m about to cost you.’ I had been so stupid and now I had given my enemies the upper hand in this battle. What would Dad have to concede to get me back? If he didn’t give up his kingdom he would have to give up part of his heart. I was so sorry I was about to put him through this.
‘You are a spy, Faerie,’ Bwika said, ‘and I sentence you to death by the sword.’
Death? Oh, crap. I hadn’t thought of that.
Chapter Twenty-Six
King Bwika
The king pointed to the chief of his honour guard, who drew his sword and came at me.
‘Father,’ Jesse said, ‘you should listen to what Prince Conor has to say.’
Bwika was on his feet. ‘In this room,’ he shouted, ‘I am addressed as Your Highness.’
I wouldn’t have wanted to be Jesse at that moment but the king’s outburst was enough to halt the progress of my decapitator.