Prince of Hazel and Oak s-2

by John Lenahan

  ‘Hi, Dell, miss us?’ He didn’t answer; he and what’s-his-name just turned and jogged into the night.

  It was our turn to slow these guys down. There was no way we were going to go full pelt in pitch darkness. Yogi called a halt, dismounted, stripped off and handed his clothes to Tuan. He said he wanted to travel as a bear because his night vision was better. The Brownies came back to yell at us for stopping just as Yogi did his change thing. He towered over them and growled – they shut up. Yogi took the point behind our guides. He growled and snarled almost constantly so we could at least follow the sound. It was difficult going and the further we got from the castle the worse the trail became. Soon we had to take our branch-whipped faces off of our horses and power walk behind Dell and what’s-his-name, who constantly told us to hurry up. I decided that when we finally got to where we didn’t need the guides any more I would give Yogi permission to eat them.

  It was about an hour before dawn when we reached the borders of Fearn Keep and the beginning of the Peninsula Trail. Dell asked Essa, ‘What’s for breakfast?’ and she pulled her banta stick out of her pack. Bravely, I got between them and pointed out to Dell that they might not want to hang out with a hungry bear and a much more dangerous princess.

  Dell stared daggers into my eyes and said, ‘We will meet again,’ then the two of them ran off the way we had come. In the distance I heard Dell yell something that sounded like, ‘In Duir.’

  Tuan started up a fire while Yogi got dressed. We were all too tired to pitch tents so we just huddled up in front of the flames and napped in blankets for the short time left before dawn. I had one of those sleeps that, although it was probably a couple of hours, seemed like a blink.

  The sun was well up at breakfast and nobody was what you could call chirpy. I had been trying to ask Araf about his hurt foot fib ever since we had come back from the throne room but any time I brought it up he would look over his shoulder and soundlessly say, ‘Not now.’ It wasn’t until we were underway for about a half an hour and in a clearing large enough so we couldn’t be overheard by the alders, that Araf called a stop.

  ‘I had to be sure we were not being spied on,’ the big guy said in a loud whisper. ‘While you had an audience with the King, I snuck outside in daylight and saw what the Brownies did not want us to see.’

  ‘And what was that?’ The Turlow asked.

  ‘An army,’ the Imp replied. ‘A large army and they looked to be preparing for war…’

  ‘But who would the Brownies be at war with?’ Essa asked.

  ‘Me,’ I said. ‘Geez, I can be so stupid sometimes – now Jesse’s conversation makes sense. Jesse, you know Codna, Brownie King’s youngest son, thought I had come to make peace. The Brownies are going to attack Duir.’

  ‘Or Cull,’ Essa said, jumping off of her horse. ‘Someone destroyed the Tree of Knowledge once before, maybe they are about to attack the Hazellands? We must warn Dahy.’ She opened one saddlebag and looked inside. Then she opened the other and started frantically throwing things on the ground. Finally she unstrapped the bags and dumped the entire contents onto the frozen dirt.

  ‘Damn it, damn it, damn them. They stole it. They stole it. Those little Brownie-’

  ‘Stole what?’ Araf said, getting down so he could help her.

  ‘My emain slate.’

  ‘You have an emain slate?’ Tuan said incredulously.

  ‘Not any more!’ Essa shouted. ‘Those little stinking-’

  The rest of us st stood as still as possible while Essa kicked and used language that would have been inappropriate even in a Wild West saloon.

  Essa really did need calming down but I had seen the Princess like this before and I wasn’t going to go near her. It took someone that didn’t know Essa very well to attempt such a foolhardy thing. Tuan walked towards her and pulled down the back of his trousers. I thought he was going to moon her. Then the hair on the back of his head grew in, then went coarse, curly and pepper grey in colour. His hands changed to paws as his back went horizontal and straight. His shoes, on what now were his back paws, fell off. Then I saw the reason for the mooning – a long tail, full flowing with long hair, sprouted out of the top of his trousers. Tuan had changed into a fully clothed Tuan-sized dog. An Irish wolfhound or something close to it and it was the funniest thing I had seen in a very long time.

  Essa was shocked into silence, then smiled, then laughed, then dropped to one knee and gave doggie-Tuan a big hug around the neck. I would pay lots of money to find out how to do that. Tuan reformed back to his Pooka self during the hug and the two of them fell laughing on the ground.

  ‘I used to do that for my mother when she was upset,’ Tuan said, pulling up the back of his trousers.

  ‘Did it always work?’ Essa asked, still laughing.

  ‘Never failed,’ Tuan said, helping her up.

  ‘Right,’ Essa said, straightening her clothes, ‘I’m going back to Fearn Keep.’

  ‘Hold on, Princess.’ Now that she was calm and it was safe, I dismounted. ‘You can’t go back there. We only just got out and I’m pretty sure accusing them of stealing and demanding your slate back isn’t going to make them say, “Oops sorry, here you go.”’

  ‘I must get that slate back,’ she said, her voice once again betraying her anxiety. ‘Dahy must be warned about the army.’

  ‘Which is probably why they took it,’ Brendan said. ‘I’m a cop, Essa, trust me, you won’t get it back.’

  ‘But I must. I send a message to my father every other day. He will be worried sick about me. And do you know how expensive those things are?’

  ‘Princess, the others are right,’ Tuan said. ‘I agree that Master Dahy must be informed of what Araf has seen but we cannot go back. We are at the beginning of the Fearn Peninsula. Less than a mile back there is a trail that, if I remember correctly from my last journey in these woods, leads us to the beach. I propose we take it to the sea. From there we can send Yarrow to warn the Hazellands and then the rest of us can follow the coast to Alder Point.’

  Everyone looked at Yogi, who said, ‘I do not know the way.’

  ‘I will guide you back to the Hall of Knowledge,’ Essa said.

  ‘You can’t do that, Princess.’ Turlow said ‘Princess’ in that lovey-dovey tone that was enough to make me vomit.

  ‘And why not?’ Essa shot back.

  Turlow was foolishly about to start an argument with Essa when Araf piped up. And when Araf chooses to speak it’s such a surprise that people tend to listen.

  ‘This discussion is not for here. Tuan, will we make the coast before nightfall?’

  ‘Easily, I should think.’

  ‘Let us think on this as we travel and decide at the next camp. Until then, do not speak of this among the alders.’

  Turlow looked like he had something to say, but none of us waited to hear it. We turned our horses and remounted.

  The rest of the day was in silence not only because the trees were listening but also because the trail was narrow and forced us to ride in single file. By late afternoon the alders thinned out. In the distance the horizon widened and the slight sting of salt could be detected on the breeze. The trees disappeared altogether about a quarter mile from the coast. We trekked over rolling sand dunes covered with long grass until we reached a black sand beach. The warmth of the ocean changed the crisp dry air in to a cold misty one, but the relief from being out from under the spying eyes of the alders meant that no one complained.

  ‘What happened to the trees?’ I asked Tuan.

  ‘The alders hate brackish water. They never live near the coast. That is why I proposed we come here. If Yarro – I mean Yogi and Princess Essa hug the coast, there is a chance that they can get out of the Alderlands without the alders knowing.’

  ‘You think she should go with him then?’

  ‘Yarrow is my friend and in a fight I would have no other at my side.’ Then Tuan looked over his shoulder and leaned in. ‘But he is not the smartest in the
clan. Essa, I have learned, is a woman of substance and she is a natural guide. I think together they have a better chance of success.’

  We set up camp while Yogi stripped off, bear-ed up and then had a dip in the freezing water. He came out holding a flat ray-like fish the size of a bicycle. I pitched tents while Tuan and Araf fried it up. Araf produced a bottle of Brownie-shine that he had stolen from the stores at Fearn Keep. Everybody knew it was a goodbye party for Essa and Yogi, but no one said it.

  I tried to have a little alone time with Essa before I went to bed, but she was deep in conversation with her fiance. I waved at her, mouthed, ‘Good luck,’ and promised myself that I would wake up early so as to have a chat with her before she left.

  As it turned out she woke me. Long before the dawn she shook me awake to say goodbye.

  ‘What kind of time do you call this?’ I asked, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

  ‘Yogi and I thought it might be a good idea to leave before it was light in case any alders could sense this far.’

  I got out of bed and walked with her to what was left of the fire. I looked around expecting to see the Banshee.

  ‘Where is Turd-low?’ I said, and then mentally kicked myself for starting a fight. But Essa was calm.

  ‘We have said our goodbyes.’

  ‘Goodbyes? I thought he would insist on coming with y.’

  ‘No,’ she said dispassionately. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to hide emotions or if she didn’t really care. ‘He tried to persuade me not to go, but when he realised I was not for turning he didn’t volunteer to come.’

  ‘If I could, I would go with you.’

  She looked me straight in the eyes for one of those hour-long seconds, smiled – then changed the subject.

  ‘Yogi has packed the boat onto Tuan’s horse and has taught him how to assemble it. You be careful out there on the ocean.’

  ‘Gosh, it almost sounds like you’re worried about me.’

  She started to scowl but then gave me a hug. ‘I am,’ she said.

  Yogi appeared with the horses and Essa quickly turned to go, but before she could get away I caught her by the wrist. She tensed up and I instantly let go remembering what a foolish thing that is to do, but she didn’t attack and I got to say what I wanted to say.

  ‘Then we will both worry about each other. OK?’

  She nodded and mounted up. I watched them disappear into the pre-dawn.

  I went back to bed for another hour; when I awoke Brendan was already up. He had a good fire going and was cooking breakfast.

  ‘Have you been up long?’ I asked.

  ‘I love the sunrise on a beach. I grew up near a beach,’ Brendan said. ‘Dawn is a magical time by the sea. That’s what my mother always said. She also used to say, “Just because you can’t see a skunk doesn’t mean that things don’t stink.”’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Brendan said, laughing. ‘She used to say all sorts of crazy stuff. I’ve been thinking about her all morning. Once she woke me up and we trudged to the beach before the sun came up to hunt for driftwood. We built a fire and she told me stories until it was light enough to see. You know what she told me?’

  I shook my head, no.

  ‘She told me about a land where people never grow old – she even named it. I’ve been stretching my memory to remember and I’m pretty sure she called it Tir na Nog. She told me I came from a line of wise men, who were forced to leave.’ He stopped and looked away.

  ‘The Fili after the Fili war,’ I said out loud as much to myself as to Brendan.

  When he turned back his eyes were shining. ‘See? That’s why I thought this was all a dream at first. I loved those stories when I was young, but when I got older I stopped believing in them. Mom, though, never stopped believing. I started to think that she was stupid and later… crazy. Who’s the stupid one now?’

  He dropped his head and was silent for a while. I put my arm around his shoulders. Finally he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and stood – shaking off his heavy emotions. ‘I’m glad my girl is with her now and I hope Mom is telling her as all ae same stories. I have to get back, Conor. I have to tell them both that it’s all true.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Fire Dancing

  As we travelled along the coast, a foggy drizzle blew in from the sea. It was cold and damp and very unpleasant but it hid us from prying eyes, and we hoped it hid Essa and Yogi from the alders. Along with being moist and miserable it was also slow going. It was a beach, not a trail and we frequently had to dismount to negotiate boulders, large pieces of flotsam and jetsam or runoff streams. When we came to a good patch of sand we would break into a canter or even a gallop but I could tell Acorn didn’t like the sand. It broke my heart to make him stay on the beach. I promised him I would get him some real snazzy oats when we got back to normality.

  Dinner that night was what was left of Yogi’s ray. Trust me, it was nicer twenty-four hours earlier. The loss of Essa and Yogi had left a hole in the group that no one tried to fill. It was early to bed and the next morning it was early to rise.

  The previous day’s drizzle whipped itself up into a full-blown storm. I guess I should have been grateful it wasn’t snow, but at least then I would have been dry. The near-horizontal rain made me wet in places I didn’t even know I had. Equestrianism is no longer fun when your trousers squelch with every bounce. We were all too miserable and frozen to talk. By lunchtime I was practically in a hypothermic coma and would have stayed that way if Brendan hadn’t flipped.

  We had stopped only long enough to decide to eat lunch on the hoof. Turlow dismounted and opened his saddlebag to get some grub. That’s when Brendan lost it. He jumped from his horse and came down hard on poor Turlow’s head. The Banshee didn’t know what hit him. Turlow jumped to his feet and when he saw Brendan on the ground he assumed that Brendan had fallen on him after being shot by some unseen attacker. He popped out his Banshee blade and turned his back on the policeman, looking for the sniper. Brendan picked himself up and then tackled Turlow from behind like a linebacker in full blown ’roid-rage.

  Turlow went face down hard into a sand dune. Brendan jumped on his back and tried to pull his arms, like he was handcuffing him, but by this time Turlow was no longer confused. He wrenched his wrists free and then, like a rodeo bull, he arched his back and pushed his body up on all fours. Brendan sailed three feet into the air. He came down face first with his body at an angle that made me worry he had broken his neck. Turlow was on him in a second. To the Banshee’s credit he didn’t run him through. Brendan obviously was still not thinking properly; he reached for the Banshee blade with his hand. Turlow pulled the razor-sharp edge out of the way and gave Brendan a swift kick in the side that doubled him up.

  ‘I have been restrained with you, Real Worlder,’ Turlow said, pushing his blade at Brendan’s side, ‘but my restraint is not infinite. Tell me why you attacked me or die.’

  I dismounted, ran between them and managed to back Turlow off a bit. ‘Brendan, what’s gotten into you?’

  ‘He’s in league with Cialtie,’ Brendan said.

  I spun around and my heart jumped into my throat. Turlow stood there with his sword drawn and for a second I thought he was going to attack us both. I reached for the Lawnmower but it wasn’t there – it was strapped to Acorn. ‘Brendan, what are you talking about? How do you know this?’

  Brendan took a step towards Turlow. The Banshee raised his blade menacingly and Brendan stopped.

  ‘Turlow,’ I asked, ‘what is he talking about?’

  ‘I do not know; your friend has gone mad.’

  ‘All right,’ I said, ‘let’s everybody calm down a bit.’ I turned to Brendan. He took a deep breath, dropped his shoulders and nodded. Turlow backed off and reluctantly flicked his Banshee blade back up his sleeve. ‘Right, Brendan, explain yourself.’

  Brendan composed himself. He straightened his clothes and put on the kind of face I imagine he
uses when testifying in court. ‘Conor, you told me that you were attacked in the Real World by black riders that were sent by Cialtie.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And your aunt told you that Cialtie had been looking for you for years.’

  ‘That’s what she said.’

  ‘My mother bought the farmhouse I live on in the Real World because she thought it was close to lay-lines and portals to an Otherworld. Two years ago my wife was killed in a car accident when she hit a black horse. A couple of days ago, Conor suggested that that horse had a rider and that that rider was sent by Cialtie.’

  ‘If I recall, Brendan, you told me that I was crazy for suggesting that.’

  ‘Well, I have been thinking about it, Conor. It’s amazing how living in Faerieland can make one reassess one’s opinions.’

  ‘What has this to do with me?’ Turlow asked.

  ‘Open his bag,’ Brendan said.

  ‘If you think I am going to stand here and let you search my possessions then think again,’ Turlow said. I saw his fingers twitch but the Banshee blade didn’t reappear.

  ‘Just lift the flap on his saddlebag and look at the marking underneath.’

  I slowly backed to Turlow’s horse. Man, it was tense. I had a feeling that if I took my eyes off the two of them that they would be at each other’s throats in a second. I lifted the flap on the bag and saw what Brendan was talking about. Burned into the leather was a symbol not unlike an Ogham rune but more swirly and stylised. I couldn’t read it.

  ‘That is the same marking that was on the saddle of the horse that caused my wife’s accident.’

  ‘And from that you have deduced that I am a spy for Conor’s lunatic uncle?’ Turlow turned from Brendan and walked or to Tuan, who was still on horseback, and unlatched his saddlebag. He flipped open the flap and sure enough the same symbol was there. ‘You idiot,’ Turlow said. ‘That is the mark of Master Bothy, probably the finest saddler in The Land. That mark may be on a quarter of the saddles in Tir na Nog.’