Prince of Hazel and Oak (Shadowmagic Book 2)

by John Lenahan

  ‘We stand together at the brains of Tir na Nog. Let’s kick some Banshee tail!’

  A cheer rose up that was so loud and fast, it shocked me.

  Spideog walked up to me and did something he had never done before. He bowed and said, ‘My Prince.’

  ‘I did good?’ I asked.

  He smiled – a rare smile. ‘You did good.’

  I spent the rest of the day visiting with the troops – basically acting like a prince. I walked around faking being brave and I actually think it helped calm people. Maybe that’s what bravery is – pretending not to be scared. Many soldiers told me stories of their homes and their families that made me realise just how little I truly knew of Tir na Nog. It made me determined to save as much of it as I could.

  Essa was doing pretty much the same thing. I was watching Essa help a man write a letter when Spideog caught me staring at her. ‘Can I ask you a personal question, Conor?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said.

  ‘I thought you and her …’ the old archer nodded his head towards Essa, ‘I thought you two were … you know … wooing.’

  ‘Oh Master, that was a long time ago.’

  Spideog looked confused and said, ‘I thought you only first arrived in The Land last summer?’

  ‘I did,’ I said and laughed. ‘I guess you and I have a different definition of “a long time ago”.’

  ‘So what happened between you two – so long ago?’

  ‘Well, she tried to kill me.’

  He turned and took a long look at Essa, then looked me in the eyes and said, ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t let a little thing like that put me off.’

  It was well into the afternoon when I found myself with Dahy standing on the makeshift battlements.

  ‘Have you ever fought against Banshees before?’ I asked the old warrior.

  The question made him look older. ‘I have fought with them – never against them.’

  ‘So what about that Banshee sixth sense? If they can tell when they are going to win a battle, doesn’t that mean we have already lost?’

  Dahy gave me a look like I had just cursed in church. ‘I spoke with the troops about this before you came out this morning. The Banshees have a very good sense of how a battle is going but they cannot predict the future. Just because they are good at knowing which way the wind blows doesn’t mean that winds cannot change. They are not the mystics they think they are. They drop their trousers to crap just like the rest of us.’

  ‘But if they attack, doesn’t that mean the wind is blowing their way?’

  Dahy laughed. ‘There is a tornado blowing our way, son. Any fool can see that. I have sent wolves to Castle Duir and to the Pinelands. I wanted to send the bird but I needed her for reconnaissance.’ He looked to the sky but it was empty. ‘Our only hope is to hold out until we get reinforcements. When we do, the Banshees will turn tail. That sense of theirs also tells them when they are going to lose.’

  A screech above us forced our eyes to the sky as a streak of black came towards us. I stepped instinctively back but Dahy just reached into his satchel and took out a silk robe. Th hawk landed between us and as it raised its head it continued to grow into a black-haired woman. Dahy handed her the robe.

  She looked at me and then, like a bird, sharply turned her head to the general. ‘They are here,’ she said.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  There Will Be Blood

  Just as Dahy had predicted, Cialtie’s army, using Turlow’s intelligence, ignored the stone ramparts, swept wide behind the Hall and prepared to attack what yesterday had been the unprotected hill. Cialtie’s forces took their time setting up. If their sixth sense was warning them about the buried gold barrier, then they weren’t showing it. We stood in a row, two deep, banta sticks in hand, waiting for the attack.

  The previous night there had been a pretty heated debate about whether we should be defending with swords or sticks. Spideog said we were at war and should be using swords like warriors, but I said no. These people were not monsters or robots – they were men and women whose only crime was to have their minds corrupted by evil men. Spideog pointed out that they would not give us the same courtesy. Before I could reply Essa said something that finished the argument.

  ‘What would we win,’ she asked, ‘if after we defeat our enemy, we then become just like them?’

  At that moment I wanted to kiss Essa square on the mouth – but then again I could say that about most moments.

  The battle began with a mortar attack. The enemy cheered as they sent conch shells sailing overhead. Except for the one that Essa batted back like a major league baseball player, half a dozen shells landed on the ground with smoke rising out of them. We backed away expecting the worst but they did nothing. Finally brave souls picked them up and threw them back. Our enemy’s cheering stopped and for a while they looked confused. Orders barked from the back of their ranks refocused the troops and they strapped short shields to their arms, drew their swords and waited for the order to charge.

  The silence, as the old expression goes, was deafening. I looked to my left and saw Yogi morph into a bear and growl. I looked to my right; Essa nodded and spun her banta stick. There wasn’t a smiling face to be seen. How I wished Fergal was there with me.

  I didn’t hear the order to charge but I sure saw the results. A couple of hundred screaming Banshees and howling Brownies charged up the hill under the shadow of a flock of arrows launched from the rear. The attackers must have seen the arrows explode into flame as they crossed the gold barrier. They probably expected it. What they didn’t expect was what came next. As the first line of Banshees crossed the point where we had buried the ribbons of gold, their swords and shields vanished in a puff of smoke. Their forward momentum carried them straight into our waiting sticks. It was like hunting in a zoo. Baffled and surprised Banshees ran straight at us as we mercilessly clubbed them and then dropped back so as to let the next line step up and have a fuwing. Banshees, then Brownies, dropped like bowling pins and piled up on one another. Others collided and tripped over confused retreating soldiers who were running in every direction. It was horrible. The sound of it was sickening and the look on their faces just before we hit them was pathetic. I thank the gods we weren’t using swords. I don’t think even the hardest of us could have withstood that guilt.

  When they finally retreated, what remained was a long pile of moaning Banshee and Brownie bodies lying twisted in a heap three deep.

  Since we had no provisions to take prisoners, a detail of soldiers was chosen to untangle and roll the unconscious aggressors back down the hill. Among them were Nieve and her little cabal of sorceresses. They stuck most of the enemy in the leg with one of my aunt’s special paralysing pins – when they woke up, they found it difficult to use that leg for a day or so. It would make a little bit of a difference but not much. Cialtie’s forces were still substantially larger than ours.

  It was too late for my uncle to mount another attack. Since he knew he had the upper hand and we had little chance for reinforcements by tomorrow, they simply backed out of archery range and made camp.

  ‘Well, it looks like we won round one,’ I said to Spideog.

  ‘War is scored with the dead, Conor,’ the old warrior said. ‘This battle has yet to begin.’

  I continued with my morale-man job, dispensing pep talks as deemed necessary for a while, and then went to headquarters to check if I was needed or maybe get a little nap in. I caught my Aunt Nieve by surprise and she quickly turned away and wiped her eyes.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I asked.

  She tried to put on a brave face but at the last second she told the truth. Her voice wobbled as she said, ‘No,’ and sat down.

  That was an answer I wasn’t ready for. Of all people Nieve was the last person I would have expected to crack under pressure. I sat on the arm of her chair and put my hand on her shoulder.

  ‘How did he die?’ she asked, not looking at me.

  That question hit m
e like a slap. How should I answer that? How did Brendan die? If I was truthful I would have told her that one of her spells made him powerless to move while he was burned alive, but instead I said, ‘It was instant, and painless, he wouldn’t have even known what hit him.’

  That seemed to do the job. She wiped her face, stood up and said, ‘Right, we have a battle to prepare for, yes?’

  ‘Actually I was hoping to have a kip. Do you think that’s OK?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said as we gave each other a proper hug. ‘You may be our Prince but you’re still just a Faerie.’

  I nodded and left for my tent. I understood what she meant but it still didn’t sound right.

  I willed myself to not dream but that didn’t work. Once again in dreamland I zoomed to my father’s side. I have to admit that even though I would never abandon my comrades, I’d be lying if at that moment flying away to Castle Dud psn’t what I truly wished I could do.

  It was well after midnight when I awoke. I walked to the battlements and found Spideog with a very short Imp sorceress. The sorceress mumbled over an arrow and then handed it to the old archer, who notched it into the biggest bow I had ever seen. He let it fly and I lost it in the night sky. I started to look away but Spideog said, ‘Keep watching.’

  As the lost arrow began to descend, it started to glow then it exploded on top of a tent, showering it in flames. Screaming and cursing could be heard wafting up from the enemy camp.

  ‘You havin’ fun?’ I asked.

  ‘We are not sleeping tonight,’ Spideog said. ‘There is no reason why they should.’

  We spent the rest of the night lobbing arrows into Cialtie’s camp. By morning Essa, Yogi, Dahy and Nieve had all joined us and we giggled like schoolchildren every time Spideog let an arrow fly. Some of Spideog’s archery students tried their hand with the big bow but none of them was as good as the Master. It was amazing how many tents he hit even though he couldn’t see them until they went up in flames.

  With the troops assembled at the ramparts, Dahy asked me if I wanted to address them again. I told him I had already done my bit and maybe he should do it. He didn’t disagree.

  ‘Today will be different from yesterday,’ Dahy said, raising his gruff voice. ‘Today, we use swords – today, there will be blood. But the first victim of your sword should not be your enemy, it should be the little voice inside you that is saying that this battle is already lost. You must find that voice and kill it – because all is not lost. I would not have us here if it was. I have trained you and I know what you can do – and this – together – we can do. Today there will be swords – today there will be blood – let us make sure that the blood that runs is not ours. Let us make sure that those who would take away who we are will pay for their arrogance. Today there will be blood and today we shall endure.’

  The crowd went wild. I patted my old master on the back and said, ‘Awesome, dude.’

  Spideog turned to Dahy and said, ‘I thought it was a bit flowery,’ then he smiled and the two old rivals shook each other’s hand.

  ‘Are you ready to go into battle with me again – old friend?’ Dahy said.

  ‘Who are you calling old,’ Spideog replied. ‘By the by, remind me that I have to tell you something when this is all over.’

  Dahy was just about to ask what, when someone cried, ‘Incoming!’ and the battle began.

  The sky blackened with arrows. We all ducked behind the battlements and watched in horror as soldiers who were caught out in the open scrambled for cover. Then I saw a conch shell hit the ground about twenty-five feet behind me. This one, unlike the ones yesterday, wasn’t smoking. I peeped over the battlements and seeing that there were no arrows on the way, I dashed over intending to throw it back. I was no more than an arm’s length away when I heard an ear-piercing sound and was instantly doubled up in pain. All around me men dropped to the ground pulling their kneone, unlik to their chest. I’m sure that like me they were howling in pain but nothing could be heard other than the screaming sound that was coming from the shell. I knew we had to get rid of it but every time I tried to straighten my legs, the pain, which was already unbearable, doubled. I had started dragging myself forward with my fingers in the dirt when I saw Essa, obviously in pain but on her feet, stagger over to the shell and then smash it with her banta stick. The sound and pain went as suddenly as they had come. Essa poked through the rubble of the shell and picked up a small gold amulet that was buzzing with a tinny sound. Then using her teeth and fingers she bit and twisted it until it stopped.

  Dahy, who I am embarrassed to say was on his feet much faster than me, walked over and took the amulet from Essa. ‘It’s a gleem,’ he said.

  Gleem, where had I heard that before? That was the thing that Cialtie had used on Dad to win the boat race. It inflicted the pain of childbirth.

  ‘Well, that settles it,’ I said. ‘I’m not ever getting pregnant.’

  Someone shouted, ‘INCOMING!’ and we ran back to the ramparts for cover. Spideog kept his nose over the wall and then popped up to shoot a second shell out of the air like a Kentucky skeet shooter.

  Essa ducked next to me. ‘Didn’t that gleem thing hurt?’ I asked her.

  ‘Of course it hurt but it was nothing I couldn’t take.’ She rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘Men.’

  Cialtie’s first attack was small – designed to force us to show our strengths and weaknesses – it was also designed to fail. On strictly a tactical standpoint I guess it was sensible but using any other yardstick, especially a moral one, it was despicable. It was a suicide mission – that is if the attackers in the first wave volunteered. If they were ordered to go, then it was a death sentence and we were the executioners. About seventy Brownies dashed directly at the ramparts. The first thing they discovered was that Dahy and the Leprechauns had, for months, been hammering every flat rock or piece of shale that they could find into the ground in front of the stone defences. Running on it at any speed was almost impossible – it was a minefield for ankle twisting.

  Many Brownies tripped and many more were mowed down by Spideog and his archers. Only four Brownies reached the wall and when they did they seemed not to know what to do. Several of their attacking comrades had been carrying siege ladders but they had been stopped by arrows. As our archers bore down on the four, Dahy ordered them not to fire.

  ‘Brownies,’ Dahy called down to them, ‘you have fought bravely but you have no chance to scale these walls. I offer you safe passage if you go back now.’

  As I watched, I prayed that they would take his offer. They looked like lost cold orphans shivering in a big city alley. If they defiantly started to climb we would have no choice but to kill them. I can’t tell you how quickly I was getting tired of this war stuff. They huddled up and then accepted. With their heads held high, they marched back over the ankle-twisting stone field. About halfway across, a huge volley of arrows from Cialtie’s camp dropped all of them as one. It was my uncle’s way of showing the rest of his army how he felt about surrender.

  Dahy made no comment, nor showed any emotion in regards to the slaughter, he just nodded like this was business as usual. ‘Cialtie and Turlow have learned all that they need to know,’ the general said. ‘The next attack will be all of them.’

  I stepped off my post in hopes of getting to the wash tent so I could splash some water on my face and maybe wash away some of the horror that I had just seen – some of the horror that I had just been part of. I used a shortcut that brought me around the back of the tent and there I found Spideog sitting with his back to a low ruined wall, his knees up and his face in his hands. I hesitated before I disturbed him. I hoped that when he removed his hands that his eyes were not awash with tears. If Spideog broke under this pressure, what chance had the rest of us for surviving unscathed? But surviving unscathed was probably impossible anyway.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I asked, crouching down to his level.

  He looked up. His eyes were clear but filled with a
millennium’s worth of sadness. ‘May the gods damn your uncle.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I agreed, ‘and they will have to get in line. There are a few of us around here who would like to damn him and do a bit more.’

  ‘Those Brownies …’ Spideog paused – on his face he wore the sorrow of a man searching through old, painful memories. ‘Those Brownies fought like the Fili. During that war, Maeve threw her Fili at us like they were toy soldiers that could later just be glued back together.’ He shook his head and looked down. ‘How do they do it? How do these madmen get their people to follow them with such suicidal abandon?’

  ‘I don’t know, Master,’ I said. ‘I don’t think we will ever know but isn’t that what makes us better than them?’

  He looked up, smiled at me, then stood, instantly regaining his innate heroic stance. ‘You have your grandmother’s eyes, you know.’

  ‘You must tell me about her sometime.’

  ‘I will, when this is all over.’ He laughed to himself as he turned. ‘I might even do better than that.’

  He jogged back to his post without giving me a chance to ask him what he meant.

  Back on the battlements the sun rose to its zenith in a crystal-clear blue winter sky. The heat was welcome as it allowed us to believe that the sweat that was dripping down our backs was caused by the sun and not our jangling nerves.