The Long Staff (The Staff Wielder Series)

by Clare Wilson

  ‘Let us begin,’ said the low, dark voice. ‘If we are to succeed here tonight, we cannot waste time.’

  Naithara then turned to face the minister. ‘Daor umbruma,’ she said in a despicable tongue which did not sound as though it came from her own mouth. It was base and animal like.

  Tom watched, mesmerized, as the man stepped forward and lowered his hood. He then took a knife from within the folds of his cloak and made to slit his own throat.

  As he did so Naithara announced, ‘The sacrifice of a willing servant shall pave the way to your glory. As the blood touches the hallowed earth under this sacred moon, Eiric shall be re-born!’

  As the man’s knife rose to his throat Torean stepped from the undergrowth. He raised his staff and shouted, ‘Amail!’ The only thing he could do right now was to stop the sacrifice.

  This caused the winds to rise between Naithara and the minister creating a barrier of shining blue light. As this happened the minister seemed to wake as if from a trance and look at the knife in his hand, bewildered.

  ‘Seize him!’ shouted Naithara.

  Torean then yelled ‘Buille!’ at the minister, which caused the man to fly through the air and land on the ground, concussed. Then nodding at Tom he turned back towards Naithara and her men and yelled, ‘Amail,’ once more.

  Tom rose to stand behind him and raising his staff cried, ‘Beathaich!’ Their combined strength created a barrier which stopped the group advancing on them. Once again he was taken aback by the strength of the incantation flowing through him from the staff. Somehow this felt even stronger than the last time.

  Torean turned to Tom looking strained, ‘I am going to need you to keep this incantation going while I try to break through and take a few of them out.’

  Tom had never felt more terrified. He was now the only line of defence. Tom simply nodded and did his best to concentrate on the power flowing through him. The shield’s span shrunk when Torean’s attention shifted, although with immense concentration it still held. Keep your focus, don’t lose this now.

  Meanwhile Torean managed to send a few spells from his staff which incapacitated a few of Naithara’s men, who were trying break around the sides of their defences. He was sending spells flying at the men like short sharp bursts of blue lightening.

  As he did so the Provost, holding his sacred stones aloft, was sending retaliatory spells towards Torean, hoping to stop him. Tom felt his focus waver. He was completely torn between keeping up the defensive spell and wanting to try to help Torean take the men down. Re-focusing himself, the defences held up and the spells merely rebounded on the shield and ended up injuring some of the Provost’s own men as they ricocheted.

  Meanwhile, Naithara was standing at the centre of the group with her eyes closed. This worried Tom. He knew she was gathering her power to attack them and didn’t know if he alone had the strength to keep the shield up should she attack. He had never felt more like a child.

  Suddenly Lizzy and the Laird appeared behind them and were now also facing Naithara and the group. Torean, distracted, turned from his work and shouted across the clearing so they could hear, ‘Did you get the book?’

  ‘Yes,’ Angus shouted back. ‘What should I do with it?’

  ‘Throw it on the ground,’ the old man yelled, motioning to them to drop the book.

  The Laird retrieved it from his cloak and threw it on the ground in front of them.

  ‘Now stand back,’ Torean yelled.

  Wilson stepped forward and led Lizzy and the Laird further away from where the book lay.

  Torean stood facing it on the ground and focused his energy. Raising the staff into the air he prepared to destroy the one thing which would stop Eiric from being completely vanquished.

  At that moment Naithara struck, the force of her blow sent Tom flying backwards and his protective shield was broken. She didn’t waste any time, screaming, ‘Basaich!’ The spell missed Torean’s back, but hit the tree in front of him. The tree instantly withered and crashed to the ground. A flying branch hit Torean square in the chest and he crumpled to the ground.

  Aneirin ran to his grandfather’s side and was on the ground cradling the old man in his lap.

  As Tom turned back to face Naithara’s group he was petrified, his courage had deserted him.

  Naithara was smiling and the Provost standing next to her was examining Tom as an animal would its prey.

  ‘It’s over, little boy,’ she said coolly. ‘Drop the staff and we may yet let you live.’

  At these words Lizzy ran forward to stand at Tom’s side. She knew that he felt alone and was not about to let Naithara pick them off one by one.

  ‘You foolish girl,’ Naithara said, feeling betrayed at the thought that Lizzy had plotted against her. ‘Do you really think you can stand against me? I will swat you like a fly.’ Naithara raised her hand to strike Lizzy down.

  What she hadn’t realised while she had been gloating was that the sight of Lizzy running into the fray had shaken Aneirin from his reverie. Grabbing his grandfather’s staff he had risen behind Tom and Lizzy, and was preparing to join the fight.

  As Naithara’s spell flew through the air, Aneirin dove for Lizzy and managed to throw her out of the way. She lay winded on the ground but was otherwise unhurt. He turned to Tom and nodded. ‘Let’s do this, cousin.’

  Tom felt a surge of courage wash over him. The momentary distraction of Aneirin’s actions had allowed him and Tom the time they needed to act. He whispered to Aneirin, ‘Amail.’

  The boy said, ‘Of course.’

  Immediately, Tom turned to face the group and shouted the protective spell. The force field between the two camps was back once more.

  It was small, but then Aneirin shouted the same thing. The spell suddenly expanded to form a large arch around the group.

  Wasting no time, Tom turned to the book lying on the ground and shouted ‘Aicheadh Coirbte!’ He didn’t know whether it would work, having never actually tried the incantation before. As the spell shot from his staff Tom didn’t think he would be able to channel the power. The staff felt as if it weighed a tonne, he was petrified that trying to do this alone had been a big mistake. Be that as it may, the book on the ground exploded in a mass of red flame, sending Tom and all those around him through the air.

  ‘No, you fools!’ Naithara screamed in agony.

  The explosion had caused the shield Aneirin had been controlling to fall. They suddenly became aware of a growing noise in the clearing. It was as though the air itself was pulsating.

  Swirling around Naithara, the spirit of Eiric was screaming in pain as he was destroyed. The noise grew to an unbearable pitch and there was an explosion which filled the clearing with a light which made it seem almost like day.

  Tom had no idea how much time had passed when he sat up and opened his eyes. He could see that Eiric’s expiration had killed most of Naithara’s men. She herself lay like a puppet with its strings cut in the centre of the clearing, blood now strewn across her face and once white robes.

  His momentary exhilaration was short lived when he looked around to where his friends lay and saw that they had fared no better.

  Wilson was lying on the ground with Adaira holding his head up.

  Aneirin, looking round in a similar way to Tom, noticed that Lizzy was lying motionless on the grass. His heart filled with agony, he ran to her frantic with fear that she might be dead. All he could hear was his heart beating as he ran to her limp body. As he cradled her head he noticed Tom looking around the group.

  One other person was now also standing among them. It was the Provost. He alone from Naithara’s men looked unharmed.

  ‘After him, Tom!’ Aneirin shouted in a rage. ‘He cannot live, not after this.’

  Tom, now also blinded with grief, tore after the Provost as he disappeared into the trees.

  The Provost was throwing rocks at Tom as he fled. He looked as though he was trying to cast spells at the boy, but his power had obviously d
ied with Eiric.

  With blurred vision from the hot tears on his face, Tom lost him and, scratched by the undergrowth and completely weary, he eventually gave up the chase and headed back to the clearing to find out how everyone was.

  As he entered the clearing panting with exhaustion, he could see that Torean was sitting up with the Laird’s help, although he looked gravely injured.

  He could not tell whether Lizzy was dead or unconscious, but Adaira had her head in her lap and Aneirin was brushing her hair from her face. Wilson was now able to sit up but had not tried to move to join the others.

  Suddenly Tom’s vision became extremely blurry. At first he thought it was because he had been crying. But he then noticed that the group appeared to be becoming less substantial, almost transparent. After only a few seconds everything around Tom seemed completely different. He found he was lying in his bed staring up at the ceiling in his bedroom. With his face still wet with tears he turned over in bed to see his snow globe sitting atop the tallboy at the foot of the bed. He couldn’t believe he was home. He also couldn’t believe he didn’t know whether his friends had survived. After all his longing to come home, it felt as if he had been ripped from his adventure before he got to read the final page. How could life go on unless he knew what had happened to them all? This couldn’t be the end. Then out of a mixture of fear and exhaustion, Tom passed out in his bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A New Life Revealed

  Tom was awakened by movement and opened his eyes to see his mother standing by his bed. ‘Happy birthday, sleepy head,’ she said, beaming. ‘It’s gone ten o’clock. You had best get up if you intend going fishing today.’

  He felt completely disorientated. He almost felt the need to fight. It all came flooding back to him. He was home, and no time had passed at all since he had left. Torean had been right when he had said the staff would return him to where it had found him.

  ‘What’s this doing next to your bed?’ his mother asked, warily picking up the staff. ‘Your grandfather’s idea of a joke, I’ll wager.’ She picked up the staff and made for the door. ‘Come down for your breakfast, love. Are you feeling okay? You look rather peaky.’

  ‘I’m fine, mum,’ Tom managed to say, almost out breath. He felt sick. ‘I’ll be right down.’

  She smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Rising from his bed, he put on his dressing gown and looked in the mirror. He hadn’t seen a mirror since he had left. Staring at his face for a time, he tried to decide whether he looked different. It was then he noticed he was not wearing his pyjamas, but was still dressed in the shirt and trousers he had been wearing during the battle, grubby and torn. His mother hadn’t noticed because he was under the covers when she had come into the room. Strangely, he saw that the cuts and bruises on his face seemed to have gone. How strange that his return seemed to have healed him, but left him in the same clothes? He quickly changed into a different pair of pyjamas, put on his dressing gown and headed downstairs for breakfast.

  He hadn’t said much during breakfast, unsure of how he could broach the subject and had decided to wait until he was alone with his grandfather to discuss what had happened to him. He could feel them eying him warily. He probably wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending to be excited about his birthday.

  As they sat by the riverbank he decided to speak to the old man. He felt as though he would burst if he could not talk to someone about everything that had happened. ‘Granda,’ he said warily. ‘I need to talk to you about the staff.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ his granda mused. ‘Well that depends on what you want to know. I don’t want to be getting into trouble with your mother.’

  ‘I think it might be a little late for that,’ Tom said, staring straight ahead of himself.

  ‘What?’ the old man questioned.

  ‘I know how to use the staff. I’ve been away for over two weeks.’

  ‘Good God,’ the old man said, stunned. ‘Tell me everything.’

  After recounting all that had happened to him, his grandfather put his arm around him. ‘I’m proud of you, my boy. Although you must realise that when I sat the staff in your room as you slept, I’d no idea this would happen. I only meant…’

  ‘Do you think they’re okay?’ Tom interjected, still worried about what had happened to his friends after he left.

  ‘I can’t say for sure,’ said the old man. He knew he couldn’t reassure him when it might not be true. ‘Although I think when we get back to the house there is something I can show you which should help to put your mind at ease.’

  Tom was extremely curious about what this may be, but still felt extremely shocked by everything that had happened. A combination of this and how tiring he had found recounting his tale to his grandfather meant that the two of them spent the rest of the afternoon fishing in relative silence.

  To Tom this was bliss. He was back with his grandfather. He was safe. This was exactly what he needed after what had happened to him. It would have been very difficult to spend the day with his mother in the house pretending nothing had changed.

  That night, after a beautiful dinner and large helpings of cake, Tom made his excuses and headed off to bed.

  ‘Well this is unusual,’ his mother laughed, kissing him on the cheek. ‘I usually have to pry you away from that fireside. The fishing must have taken it out of you.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said smiling. ‘I’m tired. Thank you for a lovely day, mum.’

  ‘It was a pleasure darlin,’ off to bed with you,’ she said rising from her chair to go into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

  ‘If it’s okay, Helen, I’m going to go and tuck the birthday boy in,’ Evan said, groaning as he rose from his chair.

  The old man followed Tom upstairs but did not follow him into his room. Tom could hear him through in his own bedroom rooting around in the wardrobe.

  After a few minutes he appeared in the doorway and sat on the end of the bed holding a large brown leather book with an ornate metal clasp. ‘This is our book of lore, boy,’ he said, holding it out for Tom to take.

  ‘Really?’ Tom whispered, shocked, taking hold of the heavy volume. ‘Aneirin told me that the lore had never been written down. I told him it really should be in case someone died in battle before they could pass on what they’d learned. After all, he was like me. Both our fathers were dead. If anything was to happen to Torean or to you before you taught us, the lore would die with you.’

  ‘I know,’ the old man smiled. ‘When you told me your story today it all became clear. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. Open the book and read the introduction.’

  Tom gingerly undid the clasp and swung the book open. His eyes filled with tears as he read the words written within the first pages:

  This text contains our family lore. It is our destiny to uphold it and pass it on to those who follow us. I was led to put this text into writing by my young cousin, Tom. While I did not share his love of books, I understood how important this text would be. I hope that one day he may read it and remember me. Aneirin MacKay.

  Tom was flabbergasted. ‘I don’t know what to say!’

  ‘You are already great among us, my boy,’ his grandfather said, stroking his hair. ‘Aneirin was a great staff wielder himself and in fact built this house we are now living in.’

  Tom stared at the tome in front of him. ‘Can I read this, granda?’ Tom asked eventually, his voice full of hope.

  ‘Of course,’ he smiled. ‘Although I would keep it away from your mother, I’m sure if she saw you with a book like that she would be curious to find out what you were reading.’

  ‘I will,’ Tom promised.

  ‘Knowing who you now are, I would also ask that you do not read beyond the tenth chapter.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Tom.

  ‘That will become clear to you later,’ said his grandfather. ‘Also, it’s wise that you don’t try to overstretch yourself. You’ve had a very rushe
d introduction to our lore. It would be best for you to walk before you run.’

  The old man rose from the bed and Tom leapt up to take him into an embrace. ‘I missed you, granda.’

  ‘I know, son,’ the old man replied. ‘It is hard when you’re away from those you love. Look at it this way, a new adventure is just beginning. Who knows what mischief you and I can get into now we are staff wielders both?’ His grandfather pulled away from him and winked, ‘Goodnight, boy.’

  ‘Good night, granda,’ Tom smiled. He hurried to get into his night clothes so he could read the book in bed. As he lay leafing through the pages, he felt as if he was back with Aneirin. He wanted to skip ahead to see what he should avoid, but paid heed to his grandfather’s advice. Tom had never had such an eventful birthday in his life. He couldn’t wait to see what other adventures would await him and his grandfather.

  His grandfather entered his room several hours later. He removed the book lying open on Tom’s chest and placed it under the bed. ‘Sleep tight, son,’ the old man said, stroking his hair. He then looked at his staff, but decided against sitting it next to the boy’s bed. He would definitely need a rest.

  Glossary of Magical Terms

  Aicheadh Coirbte – The incantation to denounce evil

  Amail – To hinder or obstruct your foe, the staff would harness the surrounding elements, for example using the wind, or a nearby river to hold back an enemy.

  Amas – To seek out an object, the staff would bring to object to you

  Bas – To bring about death, this is extremely costly and one has to be able to control the spell exactly.

  Basaich - To make one Wither

  Beathaich – Can sustain someone’s energy, mainly used when two people are fighting together, it can be used to help boost someone else’s enchantment without actually having said the enchantment yourself.