Prince of Hazel and Oak (Shadowmagic Book 2)

by John Lenahan

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ona’s Book

  I swam to the shore, almost drowning when my robe dragged me under. (I was sure I told it to float.) I thought about Graysea. I think she would have come if I pushed her but, to be honest, I really didn’t want her with me. I was going into such uncertainty – I didn’t want to subject my innocent glowing angel to that kind of danger and chaos. I could almost imagine her standing in the middle of a battlefield saying, ‘Why is everyone being so mean to each other?’ It was better that she was with matron back in her grotto. I just hoped she didn’t catch too much grief for helping me escape and giving me the dragon’s blood. I was also glad I didn’t have to explain her to Essa.

  Of course I couldn’t be sure that Essa and Yogi got out of the Alderlands alive. For that matter, I couldn’t be sure that any of my loved ones were safe. I started to fret over all the time that I had lost and swam harder. My robe increased its buoyancy and I body-boarded the surf right onto the shore. The sun was newly up as I stood on the beach and rubbed the stinging saltwater out of my eyes with the sleeve of my warm insta-dry robe. I looked around and what I saw almost made my already queasy stomach bring up everything I had ever eaten. I was in the Reedlands.

  There was no mistaking the foul vegetation. This was the land that had been created when Cialtie had first taken his Choosing. The last time I had been here Fergal had almost been drawn and quartered by living vines and a band of feral Banshees (the same ones who had destroyed the Heatherlands) had used me and my friends for archery practice.

  A shout to my left made me scamper into a mangle of trees, the like I had only ever seen in B-grade horror movies with names like The Re-return of the Swamp Creature. The trees didn’t provide much cover but I might not have been spotted if I hadn’t then instructed my robe to darken so as to blend in with the vegetation. As the troop of soldiers came towards me, my annoyingly disobedient robe went practically fluorescent orage. Then, when I tried to run, I found that some vines had wrapped around my ankles – I couldn’t have gotten away even if there had been anywhere to go. As they came closer I noticed that they were Brownies and the one at the front was an old acquaintance of mine. He stepped right up to me wearing a smug smile that only a Brownie mother could love.

  ‘Hi, Frank,’ I said. ‘Did you get the knife I sent you?’

  The soldier’s uniform did nothing to make the Brownie prince look any older than the kid I had reprimanded for stealing my shoes so many months before. He pointed to his ankle where a sheath held the green-handled throwing knife to his leg.

  ‘Yeah, I did,’ he said and as a thank you, he clocked me in the head with his banta stick.

  There are many times when little situations remind me of how much I miss Fergal. I must say that waking from a concussion tied to a post was much more fun with my cousin bound to the one next to me.

  At least this place was a cut above my usual stinky dungeon. I was tied to the centre pole of a pretty opulent tent. This was no travelling structure, or if it was, then somebody was doing some serious heavy lifting. There was a full oak-framed bed in the corner, a complete eight-seat dining table set, and an office desk adorned with a collection of peacock quill pens. When the occupant of these posh digs came into the tent I wasn’t surprised. I was expecting him. He stood in front of me with his right wrist tucked into his shirt like Napoleon. On his face he wore a smirk that made me want to slap him, but then, all of his expressions make me want to do that.

  ‘Hello, Uncle, I was so worried that we weren’t going to get to meet this trip. You know how difficult it is finding time to see all of one’s relatives.’

  I had been practising that line for the entire time I had been waiting for Cialtie to arrive. I hoped that the bravado of it would hide the bowel-clenching fear that was ripping through my body.

  ‘Why are you here and how did you get here?’

  ‘I was hoping to borrow some money for university. You know Dad, he’s such a skinflint. Why he won’t even pay for—’

  A backhand across my face shut me up. While I fought to remain conscious I said, ‘I could have sworn uncles are supposed to give you hugs and kisses when they see you.’

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ I said. The time for jokes was over. ‘In fact I think that is exactly what you want to do. I think that this interrogation is an annoyance. I think what you really want to do is kill the nephew that made you a lefty. Am I right?’

  Cialtie took his wrist from his shirt and with his remaining hand scratched the stump that I had created. Then he dragged a chair from across the room and sat down in front of me. ‘You think me a monster.’

  ‘No, monsters have no choice, that’s just the way they are. I think you are a demon.’

  This brought a look of incredulity to my uncle’s face. ‘You think I have choice? You think any of us has choice? You of all people should know that we are all just pawns of Ona’s prophecies.’

  ‘Oh don’t make me sick. You killed your son, my cousin, my friend. You. You did that. Don’t you dare try to pass off that responsibility to some old fortune teller.’

  ‘Old fortune teller?’ Cialtie laughed. ‘You have no idea, have you?’ He stood and walked over to his desk. From his pocket he took a key and opened a golden box, from which he took a leather-bound manuscript. He sat down again and placed the book at my feet. ‘These are Ona’s predictions. She was truly omniscient – we have no choice but to do what she knew must be done.’

  ‘Is that why you killed her, to get that book?’

  ‘No. I had the book before I killed her.’

  ‘You sound proud of yourself.’

  ‘No, not proud, only … resigned. When I had seen only twenty summers, I stole into Ona’s room and found this book. As if guided by fate I opened it to the page that foretold my ultimate destiny. When I looked up Ona was standing beside me. She told me that if she were to be allowed to leave that she would tell my father what I had done and he would banish me. Then she took the book and opened it to the page that foretold her death. She handed the book to me and lay down on the bed. As I stood over her she handed me a pillow and I smothered her – just as she had written. There was none of your precious choice.’

  ‘You could have chosen not to kill her.’

  ‘You can think that if it helps you sleep – I know better.’

  ‘So did Ona tell you to destroy the whole land with your golden circle?’

  ‘No, that was my idea. I thought if I wiped clean the slate of The Land, that finally Tir na Nog would be free of the cage that Ona has put us in.’

  I laughed at that. ‘So you wanted to free The Land by destroying it? I think if you asked, a few of us would have objected to that.’

  ‘Your precious free will is an illusion. You too are doomed to follow Ona’s puppet play whether you know it or not.’

  ‘So you’re back in The Land-destroying business again.’

  ‘No, I have learned my lesson. Ona’s will is not to be denied. I now only seek to regain the Oak Throne. As long as I am the King of Castle Duir, I will be safe. That is why I must do this.’ He reached into a pouch on his belt and took out the gold-rimmed glass vial. I looked down to where Graysea had sealed the vial of dragon’s blood into my robe. There was a slit cut into the living fabric. Cialtie undid the stopper and began to tilt.

  ‘No, please,’ I begged.

  He stopped. ‘Turlow told me that you sought dragon’s blood, but he told me you failed. Where did you get this?’

  ‘I stole it,’ I lied. I didn’t want Graysea to be dragged into all of this.

  ‘From where?’

  ‘Duh – from a dragon.’

  He looked as though he was going to hit me again but then just said, ‘No matter, my spies in Castle Duir have told me that Oisin is much worse. It will not be long.’ Then he lifted the corner of the carpet and poured the blood into the dirt below.

  I tried to scream, I tried t
o tell him that I was going to kill him but nothing would come. As if I had been punched in the solar plexus, I had no breath. When finally I could speak, I found I had no strength to do it. You can only lose hope so many times before life is no longer worth fighting for. I dropped my head to my chest and waited for the sword that I knew was going to come, not even caring.

  I think I actually dozed off then. I had a vision that I was dead – riding a dragon off into a heavenly sunset filled with red and gold clouds and beams of light like you see in the paintings on the walls of Italian churches. I sputtered awake as hot liquid slipped down my throat and exploded my senses. I opened my eyes to see Cialtie holding a bottle of poteen.

  ‘I thought you had killed me already,’ I said with the husky voice of an alcohol-burned throat.

  ‘I have not decided what to do with you yet,’ he said, sitting back into his chair. ‘I’ve won you know. The Brownies and the Banshees are loyal to me. The Faeries, without your father, will splinter back into a squabbling mess. The Pookas will all turn again into dogs once I destroy the Tree of Knowledge. That only leaves the Imps and the Elves. The Elves, as usual, will scamper up their trees and wait to see what will happen – and the Imps … well, the Imps fight like farmers.’

  ‘We’ll stop you.’

  ‘Or you could help me. You know I’m right, you know I will win. You don’t have to like me but you can see that if you stand by my side we can avoid this war. You can save your friends and The Land much heartache.’

  ‘What do you know about heartache? You have to have a heart for that.’

  Cialtie stood and returned Ona’s book to its box. Without looking around he said, ‘When one’s entire lifetime is presented to you in an afternoon then one experiences a lifetime of pain – in a day. Oh, nephew, I know heartache.’ He turned back to me. ‘Think about what I have said,’ and then he left.

  As much as I wanted not to do as he commanded, thinking is pretty much the only thing you can do when left tied to a pole. I didn’t believe it was possible but I felt a little sorry for my uncle. I tried to imagine what life would be like if I knew everything that was going to happen to me and I had to admit it would be a nightmare – especially if my life was like Cialtie’s. I also had to admit that he had a point about my family and friends being in trouble – things didn’t look good. I wanted to laugh at the clichéd ‘Join me and together we can rule the universe’ speech but I’d be lying if I wasn’t tempted. Don’t get me wrong, the idea of spending any time with Cialtie made my stomach churn but the thought of all my loved ones getting massacred in the Hazellands made it churn more. I had seen the young troops that Dahy had put together, I had trained with them and if I was brutally honest – they weren’t up to much. They were no match for a well-trained armyf Banshees and Brownies. If I was certain my friends were going to be killed, wasn’t it my duty to save them? But then I imagined Essa and Dahy’s faces as I rode in at Cialtie’s side. It wouldn’t make any difference – they would never give up. The only difference would be that before they died they would hate me and I was pretty sure that Essa would find a way to haunt me for the rest of my life.

  Cialtie knew what he was doing; he had left me alone to think and that was the cruellest cut of all. In the end I came to the conclusion that, preordained or not, Cialtie was a monster I could never join with. I had failed my father, my friends were almost certainly doomed and I would soon die. Cialtie didn’t need to torture me – I was doing it to myself. I would like to be able to say that at that moment I welcomed death but the truth is I was afraid. I decided that when my uncle returned that I would accept his offer just so I could survive the day and maybe find a chance to escape later.

  ‘You were not thinking of accepting his offer were you?’ I heard a familiar voice say from behind me and then I felt the ropes being cut from my wrists.

  ‘Not me,’ I said, as a spark of hope returned to my soul and blood returned to my hands. I silently groaned as I stood and turned to see a very welcome face covered with camouflaging dirt.

  ‘I myself would have accepted,’ he said, his white teeth shining in his dark face, ‘and then looked for a chance to escape.’

  I started to say, ‘Actually that’s what I was going to do,’ but then just decided to say, ‘That’s why they call you Master Spideog.’ I bowed and then hugged him.

  ‘I think we should get out of here,’ he said, crossing the tent and opening Cialtie’s wardrobe.

  ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘You need to wear something that is a bit darker than that bathrobe.’

  ‘Hold on, let me try something.’ I concentrated. This time the robe cooperated and turned a dark bark brown.

  ‘Impressive,’ the old archer said while throwing me a pair of my uncle’s shoes.

  I was still putting on the left shoe when he grabbed me by the collar and I hopped out of the slit he had cut in the back of the tent. There was more moon than we would have liked as we tried to keep the vegetation between us and the roving soldiers. Spideog held a staff but no bow. Seeing him without a bow was like seeing a zebra without stripes. It made me want to ask what had happened to him in the Yewlands but this was no place for a chat.

  He led me through the spooky vegetation and then pointed into the gloom. In the distance I made out a horse corral with two guards. We snuck in closer, then Spideog offered me a knife and pointed to the guard on the left. I looked at the deadly weapon.

  ‘Can’t I have your stick?’ I whispered.

  His face showed his displeasure at the breach of silence, then he surprised me by saying, ‘No.’

  ‘I can’t just stab a man in the back.’

  ‘Conor, we are at war.’

  ‘Because it is mine. Now do you want to get out of here or not?’

  I knew by the tone that this was the end of the conversation. I took the knife and as I crept up on the guard I repeated to myself, ‘We are at war … we are at war.’ But the closer I got, the less my resolve became. While I was still in the open, the clueless soldier bent down, picked up a rock and batted it into the night with his staff. This was just a kid and then when I got closer still I realised it was a kid I knew. What were the odds? Like he was the only Brownie in all of the Reedlands – it was Frank. I came up behind him and placed the knife onto the front of his neck but I couldn’t kill.

  ‘Make a sound, Frank, and I’ll slit your throat from ear to ear.’

  Frank let loose a tiny childish squeal.

  ‘That would be a sound. Would you like to try me again?’

  I took his silence for a ‘no’. I instructed him to plant his staff in the ground and take a step forward. I held the knife to his back and picked up his staff.

  ‘You should have said “thank you”,’ I whispered as I clocked him in the side of his head. He went down with a slow wobble of the knees. I took back the green-handled knife but then had an image in my mind’s eye of poor worried Jesse and replaced it in his sock. ‘Stay out of trouble, Frank.’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  War

  We rode out on two mares. I wanted to stampede the herd but Spideog thought getting out of there unnoticed was more important than making them round up horses for a couple of hours. We galloped into the night.

  Since we couldn’t find any saddles, we rode bareback. And since all I was wearing was my stupid kelp robe thing, I really was riding bareback. Last summer Mom had taught me the basic techniques of riding without a saddle but on that occasion I didn’t have to hoik up a robe exposing my bare bottom to horsehair and the rest of my lower parts to a winter breeze. Spideog rode in front of me and to be honest, I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to be confronted with that view for a prolonged period of time either.

  Kidding aside, it was a profoundly uncomfortable ride. Riding bareback is twice the work than in a saddle. I was already exhausted from being knocked out and trussed up, and my legs (as well as my nether regions) were going numb with the cold. Spideog was deter
mined to get far away from Cialtie’s camp before I was discovered missing and he wanted to reach the Hazellands as soon as possible to warn of the imminent attack. So we travelled fast and only stopped to rest the horses. I couldn’t disagree with his logic but I would have loved to curl up in a pile of leaves for an hour or twenty.

  The sky was dark and overcast during our entire escape. A couple of snow squalls made it almost impossible to see our way but then again, it made us also impossible to spot. All the while I practised the Fili mind-calming chant that Fand had once tried to teach me. I decided on and repeated a mantra ‘Would you like fries with that burger?’ over and over again until my mind and body were almost separate. Spideog said it took a full twenty hours to get out of the Reedlands but I hardly remember anything except the cold.

  There were two Banshee guards at the border path leading into the Hazellands. Spideog spotted them before they spotted us. I waited while he snuck up and dispatched them. All that could be heard were two quiet thumps.

  In the Hazellands we found our first clean stream. The horses drank greedily and I fell into it face down. My robe had been getting lighter and colder the longer it had been away from water; after the bath it dried and warmed itself and me. I noticed that the slit that Cialtie had cut in the fabric had healed so I decided to give something a try. I slit the robe down the middle from my crotch to the floor and wrapped the dangling pieces of fabric around my legs and then willed the fabric to join together like trousers. It worked – my butt still hung out of the back but I was much warmer for the rest of the trip.