by John Lenahan
‘Dead.’
‘Ah,’ his voiced echoed remorselessly in my head. ‘He kicked my brother tree.’
‘And for that he deserved to die?’
‘Did he? I do not know what he deserved. I only know that he kicked a tree.’
‘The tree had just robbed him,’ I said.
‘Robbed by a tree? How is that possible?’
‘The one who picks the lock on the door is as responsible as the thief that enters the room.’
‘A door made of wood perhaps?’ said the alder.
‘Never mind, I refuse to talk in riddles to you.’
‘You started it, Faerie. What do I know of locks and rooms? If you are plain with me then so will I be with you.’
He was starting to give me a headache so I just asked him for some firewood. The branches above creaked and fell around me. I thanked him, then just before I let go I said, ‘Would you tell me if there are robbers watching us now?’
‘I would tell you, young prince,’ he said in a way that slightly reminded me of my Uncle Cialtie, ‘but would what I tell you be true?’
That night we set a watch again. Tuan took the first shift. I sat with him until everyone had gone to bed.
‘Tuan, I want to apologise for what I said tod—’
Tuan grabbed my arm and placed his finger to his lips to shush me. He stared up into the tree canopy and then as I watched, his head sprouted feathers and shrank into his collar. I had to almost stand up to see that his head had turned into an owl’s head. He leaned back and surveyed the treetops, then the feathers seemed to melt back into his face and his head popped up as before. He rubbed his eyes and said, ‘I thought I saw something moving in those trees. Sorry, you were saying?’
When I could speak again I started with, ‘That was pretty awesome.’ Tuan shrugged. ‘Right, what I was saying before you turned your nose into a beak is that I am sorry for breaking Pooka social protocol before when I asked you to turn into a bird. It would be helpful if you could explain what I did wrong so I could avoid that pitfall in the future.’
‘You made no error, Conor.’
‘Yogi looked like he was going to tear my head off.’
‘Yarrow, or should I say Yogi as he is now known, helped raise me. He is very protective.’
‘I still don’t get it. What did I say to annoy him?’
‘He thought you were teasing me.’
When I looked confused Tuan hung his head and collected his thoughts. Finally, without looking up, he said, ‘You once called me … what was the word? A super-Pooka. That implies that I am the best of my race, does it not?’
‘Well, even my Aunt Nieve said she’d never heard of a Pooka that could change into lots of different animals.’
Tuan shrugged again. ‘I am not the best of my people – I am the least.’
‘Why would you say that?’
He looked at his feet again, ashamed. ‘I cannot hold to an animal form.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that,’ Tuan said. ‘I have studied the disciplines of all the animals and I can change into each and every one but only for a few minutes, after that, my Pooka mind always comes to the fore and I lthe form. I change back.’
‘But I saw you fly from a tree as a bird.’
‘I climbed that tree when I heard the commotion on the other side of the wall. I almost never fly. To be honest, I am afraid of heights, but I needed to get to you and your party in a hurry. I thought I could make it to the ground before I changed back. As you saw, I didn’t.’
‘But you saved your people.’
‘Not out of choice, Conor. I was saved from being lost because I am too stupid to hold onto a fauna form for more than a few moments. It is nothing to be proud of.’
‘But who separated the carnivores from the herbivores?’
‘That was me. I allowed the bigger animals to chase me through the gate and then locked them outside.’ Tuan chuckled to himself. ‘Several times it was a very close call.’
‘I can’t believe you saved an entire race and still call yourself “the least” of them. The council didn’t think so – Councillor Tuan.’
‘The council only instated me because of my mother. They think I am weak-minded and I do not disagree.’
This poor guy had been living with this shame for so long, his self-esteem was almost gone. I was tempted to give him a hug but instead I punched him on the arm.
‘Ow. Why did you do that?’
‘Because you’re stupid.’
‘Oh,’ he said, looking at his feet, ‘I know that.’
‘No, you don’t. Let me ask you something? How many creatures can you turn into?’
‘I would guess two score.’
‘And every time you failed you tried again and learned another animal?’
‘Yes, I have been alive for a very long time.’
‘A lesser man would have given up long ago. You have shown determination and fortitude beyond any of your people.’
He shrugged again – a habit I was determined to break him of.
‘You have to admit it.’
‘Well, I guess.’
‘You must be the hardest-working member of a race that was saved from extinction because of you. If I ever hear you speak badly about yourself it won’t be your arm I punch – it’ll be your nose.’
The way he looked at me made me wonder if anyone in his hundreds of years had ever spoken to him this way. A smile started in the corners of his mouth and he whispered, ‘OK.’
‘OK?’ I said louder.
‘Yes,’ he said, standing.
I started to stand up with him when he popped back down, grabbed my arm and shushed me again. Then he performed his owl head trick. When his head was normal-sized again he leaned in close and whispered, ‘Get Yogi. We have company.’
I woke up the bear as casually as I could and then the three of us sat around the fire pretending we weren’t being watched. Tuan passed around a bottle filled with water that we swigged as if it was moonshine. Tuan patted Yogi on the back and then dropped his head on his shoulder in what looked like a display of drunken camaraderie. In reality they were making a plan. Yogi got up and staggered to a nearby tree to relieve himself and Tuan laughingly told him to go further away. When he was under the right tree Tuan slapped me on the back and whispered in my ear, ‘Are you armed?’ ‘I have one of Dahy’s throwing blades in my sock.’
‘Let us hope you have no need to use it.’
As he was speaking his head shrank down into his collar and those downy white feathers sprouted again. He leaned his whole body back (since his neck no longer tilted up and down), pointed to a space in the tree above Yogi and let loose a screech that made my blood run cold. It was like something out of a cheap horror movie. When I looked to see what Yogi was doing, he wasn’t there. In his place was a pile of clothes. Yogi, now fully a bear, was climbing with lightning speed. Once in the tree there was a lot of screaming and growling combined with Tuan’s screeching and pointing. I couldn’t see much and didn’t have a clue what was going on. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a falling, screaming Brownie. Yogi climbed down so fast that I thought he was falling too. Tuan, now normal-headed, and I ran to the crumpled Brownie but just as we reached him, Yogi Bear came towards him roaring and we both backed off. The bear picked up the fallen Brownie and gripped him in what I can only describe as a bear hug.
‘Come down,’ Tuan shouted to the treetops, ‘and I will try to convince my cousin not to eat your friend.’
We waited for a half a minute. ‘Oh well,’ Tuan said, gesturing to Yogi, ‘enjoy your meal.’
The Brownie was comatose with fear; he didn’t even whimper as Yogi opened his jaws wide enough to eat him whole.
‘I have a crossbow aimed at you all!’ a squeaky voice hollered from the dark. The second Brownie it seemed had jumped to another tree and was now shouting to us from the forest to our right.
Tuan stepped slowly away. ‘And just
how can you have one bolt aimed at all of us?’ he shouted into the dark. ‘If you shoot me it will not save your friend. If you shoot the bear then you will only succeed in making him angry.’
From the shadows a man, tall even for a Brownie, appeared. I find it so difficult to judge the age of Brownies, they all look like kids to me, but the way this guy carried himself, I suspected that he had been in sticky situations before. He stepped slowly towards us with his crossbow levelled at Tuan. ‘Then I choose to shoot you.’
‘You could try,’ Tuan said with equal coolness, ‘but that would not help your companion.’
Yogi roared again. I felt sorry for his poor captive as bear slobber dripped down the side of his face.
‘Tell the bear to release him or I drop you,’ the Brownie said.
‘Put away your weapon and we can talk,’ Tuan replied. ‘There is no reason why anyone should be injured here.’
The Brownie in Yogi’s arms tried to say something but the bear covered his face with his arm. All that came out were a couple of muffled yelps.
The one with the crossbow nervously glanced from Tuan to Yogi but never took his aim from the Pooka prince. ‘The one that is soon to be injured is you, Pooka.’
‘I really do not think that will be the case,’ Tuan said at almost the exact moment that Essa materialised behind the armed Brownie. With an upward flick of her banta stick she hit underneath the crossbow, sending a singing bolt flying into the night sky. A micro-second later, the other end of the stick cracked him on the neck and he went down onto his knees. Araf appeared out of the darkness and hogtied the would-be assassin with a scarf. Brendan, relaxing his grip on his bow, and Turlow, sporting his Banshee blade, also stepped into the campfire light.
Yogi placed his captive in a one-armed headlock and slipped his athrú disc into his mouth. I’m not sure what scared the poor little guy more: being almost eaten by a bear or instantly discovering that he was in a wrestler’s hold with a naked guy. Tuan relieved Yogi of his captive while he went back under the tree and put his clothes back on. The two night stalkers were plopped in front of the fire. Araf asked them if they were injured, but they weren’t talking.
‘Well,’ I said, rubbing my hands together, ‘it seems we have guests. Tea anyone?’ I addressed the Brownies. ‘I suspect you two would like willow, yes?’
The tall one glared at me then said, ‘The alders will report that you have us captive. You will be surrounded by the King’s men in hours.’
‘Good,’ Brendan said. ‘It’s about time we received an escort. This guy here, he’s Prince Conor of Duir. Him and him are Princes Tuan and Araf of Pine and Heather?’ Brendan looked to the princes to check if he got it right; they nodded and smiled. ‘And the girl that clocked you in the head, she is Princess Essa from the boozy Vinelands and oh yeah – over there is The Turlow. I’m pretty sure he outranks everybody.’
‘And who are you?’ the increasingly worried-looking Brownie asked.
‘I’m a cop and you, pal – are very busted. Personally I’m surprised that you want the trees to tell. If I had been rumbled in my own backyard by a bunch of royal hoity-toities and then laid out by a girl, I’d maybe not want my boss to know about it.’
The Brownie started to say something but Brendan interrupted him.
‘On the other hand if you call your boss and tell him that you have met the royal entourage and are escorting them to Castle Alderland, then I suspect my fellow travellers would be delighted to have you along.’
Brendan looked around; everyone shrugged and nodded yes.
The tall Brownie was no dummy. It only took him about a second for the truth of what Detective Fallon was saying to sink in. Despite the panic in his eyes his voice was incredibly calm. ‘May I speak with the alder, please?’
Araf untied him and he walked quickly over to the tree. Araf released the smaller one too and I handed him a cup of willow tea that he took with appreciation.
When he returned from speaking to the tree, the tall Brownie approached the fire and bowed. ‘My name is Dell of the King’s guard,’ he said formally. ‘Welcome to the Alderlands. It is my duty and pleasure to escort you to Fearn Keep.’
Cha
pter Twenty-Six
Dell and What’s-His-Name
‘So,’ I asked, ‘what about that army of Brownies that is supposed to be coming to your rescue?’
‘It is not unusual for alder trees to misinterpret the actions of people in The Land,’ the Brownie said. ‘There is no approaching army.’
You couldn’t deny that this guy was smooth.
Dell drank a cup of willow tea with us but wasn’t interested in answering our questions. I offered them Brendan’s tent. I even volunteered to pitch it for them but they chose to sleep in the trees. Although the chances of being robbed or attacked were slim, now that our stalkers had become our escorts, the thought of sleeping while Brownies looked down didn’t fill us with enough security to abandon keeping watch. Tuan was knackered from his birdie-head trick so I offered to take the first shift.
I sat alone in front of the crackling fire and searched the trees to see if I could spot where Dell and his pal were sleeping. I couldn’t see anything. I remembered the first time I had been alone at night in The Land, keeping watch by a fire. I remembered how awesome the strange star-filled night sky had been. Now I just stared up and shivered. The black silhouettes of the leafless branches made the starry sky look cracked and broken. On my first trip to The Land everything was new and wonderful but now everything was just cold and miserable. What had changed – me or The Land? The obvious answer was The Land. Fergal wasn’t in it any more. Tir na Nog in my mind was the place where my cousin Fergal lived. His loss weighed on me like a stone yoke around my neck. Even if I was getting used to the weight of it, I always knew it was there.
And Dad wasn’t here. I knew this was the time in my life where I wanted to figure stuff out by myself but the idea of him not being out there somewhere, just as a safety net, unnerved me. A world without Dad – any world without Dad – just didn’t seem right. What if he doesn’t make it? I pushed that thought out of my mind.
I was glad Brendan was here. Not just because he got my Real World jokes but because it felt like he belonged here. But he wasn’t gonna stay long. As soon as Dad got better or come the next Samhain, he’d be out of here – back to his daughter and his crazy mother.
The most annoying thing was Turlow. I don’t care if Brendan and Araf like him – I just don’t want to like him. He gets in the way of me and Essa. There’s no law that says I have to like him. Can’t I just dislike someone regardless of whether they are likable or not?
‘You look to be a man deep in the midst moral dilemma,’ said a voice to my left. It was Turlow. ‘Can I be of assistance?’
‘Oh no,’ I laughed, ‘I don’t think this moral dilemma is one you can help me with. What are you doing awake?’
‘The thought of Brownies in the trees is not a restful one. Sleep eludes me.’
‘That I can understand,’ I agreed.
Considering that this particular Banshee was not my favourite person, one would be excused for thinking I was annoyed that he disturbed my solitude, but to be honest I was glad that someone broke my morose musings.
‘Actually, Turlow, there is something I have been meaning to ask you about.’
‘Yes?’ Turlow took a seat and I offered him a cup of tea made from the stuff that Queen Rhiannon had given me. He took a sip and raised his eyebrows in approval. ‘What would you like to know, Conor?’
‘You are The Turlow?’
‘You have been waiting to ask me that?’
‘No, I mean you are like the King of the Banshees – right?’
He frowned at that and took a sip of his tea, collecting his thoughts. ‘Actually, Conor, you were right the first time. I am not a king, I am The Turlow.’
‘OK, but you’re like the head Banshee?’ I pressed.
Turlow smiled at this and said, �
��I am tempted to repeat myself and say once again that I am The Turlow – for that title is all the definition that is needed by me or my clan – but yes, I suppose you could say I am the head Banshee.’
‘And do all Banshees acknowledge this?’
There had been a light-heartedness to our conversation up till then but it disappeared with that question. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I was wondering about the Banshees in the Reedlands. You may have heard from Essa that they attacked us and many suspect that they were responsible for the destruction of the Hall of Knowledge. Are they not your subjects?’
‘I have no subjects, Conor. Being a Turlow is much more like being a father than a ruler. As it has been since the beginning of time, a father who pushes too hard one day finds that his son chooses to listen no longer. I do not rule, I just am.’
He continued. ‘As for the Banshees in the Reedlands, I knew nothing about them or your attack until after your father regained Duir. This is very worrying for me. I have sent parties to find them – most have failed, while others have failed to return. The Reedlands is a treacherous place.’
‘But you must know where they came from?’
‘I have my suspicions.’
‘And they are?’
He started to answer me but then stopped himself and thought for a bit. ‘I have not been The Turlow long. During the time of my tenure my clan has been … uneasy. The cause of this uneasiness was your uncle.’
Now there was a surprise. 6;Cialtie has been known to have that effect,’ I said. ‘What did he do?’
‘Years ago he travelled to the Banshee shores. No dignitary of the House of Duir had been there in eons. My predecessor the Old Turlow greeted him as befitted a Prince of Oak. Cialtie stayed among us and befriended the younger members of the clan – including, I must admit, myself. He spoke of how lowly regarded the Banshee were in The Land and when no elders were around he spoke of a time when the Banshees would rule at his side.
‘When the Old Turlow heard of this, he accused Cialtie of creating unrest. The Old Turlow ordered him to leave. Cialtie, appalled that a Son of Duir should be treated so, left, but with him he took a small group who openly defied the Old Turlow.