“Boring?” Croga shouted up at the monstrous face. “I’ll bore you all right. Through to your very core…Here!”
The yellow creature hurled a bolt of sharp-edged lightning at the monster’s middle. The blue flashing discharge of power was merely absorbed by the dripping mass of frothing waste.
In return, Croga received a glancing blow from a concentrated beam directed from the laser eyes. She was thrown, and rolled over and over again along the smooth floor. The monster howled with laughter.
“You’re only feeding me with more power. I’ve a good mind to atomise you for your insolent behaviour, but I think I may have put my mark on you and your companions already. Be off!”
Croga was joined by the other Shamrogues. In unity, they faced the New-Killer. “We’re not beaten yet!”
Before they could speak again, the monster of polluted waste inhaled so deeply that they were sucked towards him. Then, grabbing them with a mauling hand and holding them in a vice-like grip, he raised the five Shamrogues above his head. He tilted his head backwards and opened his fiery slit of a mouth. He inhaled again and, unable to resist, they were drawn into the raging inferno which immediately engulfed them.
Tumbling, screaming and frightened, they had the good sense to revert to stone, and soon turned red hot. They were tossed and thrown around the monster’s innards.
The Shamrogues made one last supreme effort. They flung themselves together as one and began to pound his insides. They pounded and pounded. This finally had the desired effect on the monster.
“AAAAGGGHHHHH!” The fiend roared and spat them out. Bouncing off the wall, they hurtled to the floor and lay there − five smouldering stones.
“I told you that you were no match for me! I am all-powerful!” the monster said, looming above them. It opened the yawning chasm of its mouth and was about to devour them a second time. But instead it burped, and a little puff of smoke escaped. Suddenly the raging fire inside it dimmed and cooled. Once more it was reduced to a mere puddle of discarded waste.
When the Shamrogues came round, they looked at the water.
“To say that was part of me for a while, as I carried it in my beard, is terrifying,” Trom said, his face ashen and drawn. “Let’s leave this terrible place and return home immediately. I’m not feeling well at all. After our ordeal I’m exhausted and drained. With such little energy remaining, I hope we can get back.”
Returning the way they had come, they made their exit at the mouth of the discharge pipeline. The divers’ objects still lay on the seabed as reminders of their failed mission.
“If it’s possible,” Sona murmured, “I’d love to finish what those brave people had tried to do before they were taken away. “
“It would be marvellous to accomplish something,” Gorum said. “I’ll bring the balloon into the pipe and inflate it. It will serve as a token of our objection to polluting the sea with New-Killer waste. Go and prepare the currach to set sail. I’ll follow when I’m finished.”
Glic insisted on staying to help Gorum and they re-entered the pipeline. Pulling the cord, they inflated the balloon so that it blocked the outflow completely. At least part of their mission was a success. They followed the others to the beach where they were dragging the currach to the shoreline.
Pushing their small craft out on the water again, they headed across the sea.
“I think we should pool our energies and direct our trusty vessel to carry us home,” Trom said and coughed hoarsely.
As always, they held hands, and with a great deal of effort they urged the craft forward. Coughing and sneezing, as if they had been stricken with some terrible flu virus, they could barely manage to keep the boat on course. Very soon, they were fitfully asleep in the bottom of the currach, their tiny bodies shivering and shaking with the twinges and cramps that assailed them.
But the faithful vessel was bringing them home!
Chapter Fifteen
Mystical Chamber
Molag and her followers scoured the air for flying insects. The bats flitted and raced in erratic movements beneath a starry sky. Their nightly errand brought them on their usual circuit, travelling the length of the river as far as the sea and then back inland to Mulligan’s cave.
They passed across the estuary that constantly ebbed and flowed with the tides.
Below, the water swirled and eddied in the many small coves lining the sandy banks. Observing something that floated down below, Molag swooped to investigate further. With an alarming high-pitched shriek, she called the other bats, and they hovered and stared at a most unnerving sight. The currach drifted in a circle and bobbed high on the salty water. In the bottom, five lifeless creatures lay soaked from sea spray. Calling the Shamrogues by name, Molag was greatly concerned when she received no reply.
“Quickly!” she urged the bats. “Grab the craft and fly swiftly to the pool upriver. I’ll alert Mulligan immediately. They’re still breathing, though they’re in a bad way. Hurry!”
The bats immediately obeyed their queen’s command.
Mulligan snored loudly in the cave, a blanket loosely thrown over his big frame, his bush hat pulled forward to cover his eyes. Each time he exhaled, the hairs of his long moustache were blown upwards and tickled the tip of his nose.
Molag let out a shrill scream, which immediately awoke Kang and Aroo. They jumped to their feet at once. But Mulligan was a different story. He muttered softly as he stirred in his sleep.
Kang hopped onto the big man’s bed and chattered in his ear while Aroo tugged the bedcover to the floor. With more mumbling and smacking of lips, Mulligan forced his eyes open. In the gloom, lit only with the dull glare of red embers, he saw Molag as she furiously beat her wings.
“The Shamrogues!” she shrieked. “My bats are carrying them to the pool from which they started their journey. They seemed injured, but I couldn’t make out any wounds. Whatever they encountered across the sea must have been very dangerous. Even their colours, which are normally glowing, have taken on an unhealthy paleness.”
As Molag spoke, Mulligan was already busy. “I’ll bring a billycan of herbal tea. It might help. I think the situation may be extremely serious.”
The two squirrels tried to cover their ears. Bad news always worried them and they hoped not to hear anything unpleasant about their friends. However, try as they might to resist it, the truth had to be faced.
Molag had barely flapped her wings before Mulligan was ready. He ran with long strides to the river and got there just as the bats were arriving with the currach and its silent cargo. A sighing wind whispered in the treetops and stirred the leaves. A family of badgers, a lone fox, and a couple of bristling hedgehogs, foragers of the night, stopped and listened to the signals on the breeze. Something, both urgent and disturbing, was happening in Coillduff forest.
Mulligan knelt and placed the currach on the grassy bank. Tenderly, he lifted the Shamrogues from the bottom of the craft and put them on a blanket which he had brought in his old rucksack. Folding over the end of the blanket, he covered their cold bodies. Then he lit the storm lantern which he had also brought. In the light shed by the yellow flame, the tiny creatures looked extremely sick. One by one, he gave each of them a few drops of warm tea. It had some effect, and slowly they opened their eyes and peered up at the big man.
“You were right, Mulligan,” Trom said as he was seized by a fit of coughing. Closing his eyes, he lapsed back into an uneasy sleep.
Gorum seemed to be the least affected, and he spoke. “We engaged the New-Killer in battle. Having called him up with a spell, he appeared as a monster. But we were no match for such a menace and he swallowed us into his infernal insides. When he thought he had tormented us enough, he spewed us onto the floor. Then he went back to being a puddle of watery waste.” Gorum groaned and turned on this side. He sneezed into the blanket several times before again looking up at Mulligan.
The big man stooped and picked up the blue creature. Cupping his hands, Mulligan cr
adled Gorum and let some heat from his palms flow into the shivering body. After some more herbal tea, Gorum was able to speak once more.
“We must return to Newgrange to recharge our energy and our powers. As we ourselves are too weak to travel, I was wondering if you would…”
Mulligan smiled. “Of course I will. I can have you there in no time at all. Try and get some rest now, and I’ll make the currach more comfortable. I can easily carry you in that.”
Having put Gorum with the others, Mulligan set to work. He was pleased to see that the cut citrine crystal was still in the craft, and left it there after he had emptied out the salt water and lined the bottom with a towel. Lifting the Shamrogues gently, he put them in the boat and covered them.
Sona’s eyes fluttered open as she was laid down. One whispered word was all she could manage: “Thanks…”
Having instructed the squirrels and bats to return to the cave and await his arrival, Mulligan was up and running.
The beauty of the forests, hillsides, valleys, fields and trickling streams all seemed to encourage the big man’s progress. He sprinted, lithe and determined, to cover as much ground as possible in the shortest space of time. The wind at his back kept his pace up and urged him onwards with lilting words. “Haaasstte! Make haaasstte! Speed like the wind!”
Mulligan, carrying the currach with its most precious of cargoes, ran as he had never run before. Skirting small towns and villages, avoiding farms and homesteads, and watched by small, curious nocturnal animals who were aware of his urgency, the big man sped on. Finally, as he crossed a small brook, he saw the sacred passage grave on its elevated site. The moon was low in the sky behind Newgrange and the mound cast long shadows. The great tomb itself seemed to give off a whitish glow. With his destination in view, the big man pushed forward.
Breathless, Mulligan came to a halt in front of the steps leading into the tomb. A great stone, scrolled and carved in Celtic fashion, was the first thing he noticed at the entrance. Then the awesome stillness, full of calming peace, put him at his ease. Because of his immense love for ancient places, the big man was momentarily hypnotised by the pleasant atmosphere that was given off by the timeless mound. A tiny voice broke the tranquility.
“Are we here already?” Gorum asked in a weak voice.
Mulligan, his eyes sparkling moistly, nodded.
“Then,” Gorum added, “please take us to the inner chamber, deep within the monument. It is there, and only there, that we can regain our strength. The night begins to fade.”
As Gorum said this, the moon dropped behind the mound and in the eastern sky a glimmer of approaching dawn painted the heavens with the rays of forthcoming daylight. Then, like a candle that glows brightest when first lit, the brightness dimmed and darkness reasserted itself.
Mulligan slowly climbed the steps. Magically, as he approached, the iron gate protecting the passage grave opened and was drawn back by unseen hands. The big man passed through into the tunnel that was lined with upright slabs of stone. It was very dark, but eventually his eyes adjusted to the gloom and he arrived in the mystical chamber with the corbelled roof that had withstood the ravages of twenty thousand seasons. He laid the currach on the stony floor.
Gorum opened his eyes. “Now, the powers and energy contained in this fine place may help to restore us. If you place us on the floor, we will be in contact with its mystical influence.”
The big man sank to his knees and, one by one, he put the Shamrogues lying in a row on the cold surface. All were unconscious, except Gorum, who was barely able to remain awake. They appeared very small by comparison to the large stones all around.
“Thank you,” Gorum sighed. “If you will kindly leave us alone, we will try to re-energize and get some of our strength back.”
Wearily getting to his feet, Mulligan forced a smile, wished them good luck and stepped to the exit of the chamber. Down the long passageway, the light of a new dawn was beginning to brighten the exterior. He turned and stared at the Shamrogues. Blinking back tears, he saw them as he never would again. Feeling there was nothing more he could do, he gave a farewell wave and headed outside. No sooner had he reached the bottom of the steps than the gate swung shut. The muffled boom echoed across the sleeping countryside.
Not far away, Niamh lay dreaming about her friends the Shamrogues. In the dream, she could see them walk hand in hand with a habit-clad figure into a blinding beam of light. She awoke with a start and looked across the bedroom to her sister’s bed. Sinéad had not been disturbed by the sound that had intruded on her dream. This was obviously a message meant for Niamh alone. The Shamrogues were close by in the ancient monument.
Silently, she crept from her bed and put some clothes on over her pyjamas. Then, on tiptoe, she went downstairs and slipped on her Wellingtons and a warm anorak. Once outside, she raced across the still-dark fields to the great mound.
Meanwhile, in the main chamber of Newgrange, the Shamrogues roused only very slightly. But it was enough for them to realise that their power was not returning. Something else would have to be done quickly. Exchanging glances, they knew what that must be. They linked hands. In one last concentrated effort, they wished for Caffa.
“Highest of mighty druids, come to our aid. We call on you to hear us and venture from the distant past to cross the spanning bridge of ages. Help us. Caffa, our creator…. Help us before it is too late…!”
Totally drained, they closed their eyes and waited.
Climbing through ditches and over barbed wire fences, Niamh scrambled to reach her beloved friends. But the more she hurried, the slower her progress seemed. A startled owl hooted as she ran beneath a tree. With her heart beating like the pounding of drums, she charged on.
Slowly, extremely slowly, Gorum noticed a change in the chamber’s temperature. He felt warmer and then watched as a hazy screen swirled in front of his eyes. Was it fever setting in? Taking deep breaths, he became aware of a floating shape that began to materialise, only to disperse again and then return with greater substance. To his astonished relief, he made out the presence of a wizened face – Caffa’s face. And then the rest of the figure, dressed in a long grey dusty habit, appeared and touched the ground. Gorum struggled and raised himself on to his elbows. “Caffa, can it really be you?”
The old balding druid, with white beard flowing, tucked his arms in opposite sleeves and spoke in his cackling voice. “Tis I indeed! You all called, so I made it my business to come. What do you desire of me?”
Gorum fell back. “Look at us, Master. We are stricken with a disease dealt to us from the New-Killer of the present.”
Caffa chuckled. “In this chamber, it is always the present.”
Gorum looked baffled. Caffa waved his bony hands and pointed around.
“There IS no time in here,” he said. “There hasn’t been for thousands of years. The New-Killer is of the outside world. Inside these walls, past, present, and distant future are all mingled as one. Nothing has changed, nothing will. But tell me what happened.”
Gorum explained the whole story of their experience.
Meanwhile, Niamh was making her way up the wide path to where she saw Mulligan standing with the currach under his right arm. Seeing her, the big man put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to remain quiet. Then he took her hand and they stood together as the morning sun rose behind their backs.
Caffa listened to the Shamrogues with interest. Every now and then, he scratched his head or stroked his beard. Finally, Gorum finished by saying: “The New-Killer turned out to be far stronger than we thought. How can humans create anything so horrible?”
“New-Killer? Hmmm…” Caffa, deep in thought, chewed a thumb-nail. “That’s it!” he wheezed. “Humankind needs this never-ending power because the fossil fuels they use for their energy – light and heat − are almost exhausted. Yes! This nuclear energy is very dangerous indeed, but treated with respect it can be fairly safe, and someday it might be replaced altogether by something
totally harmless yet just as efficient. But the children are the adults of the future and it’s up to them to change things when their day arrives. I have no doubt they will meet the challenge with confidence. You encountered only one of these New-Killers, but there are many more of these new-killer plants in existence. If I heal you, and you go back outside, you may have to deal with them.”
Gorum moaned. “We’d never be strong enough for that. We would die. Can’t you see how we are? Take us away with you…Please!”
Caffa cocked an eyebrow and thought for a second. “If I do, you will all have to revert to stone. That’s the rule.”
Trom let out a long sigh and moaned. Gorum looked at his companions. They had been through so much together. “If that is what must come to pass, Caffa, then we will have to comply,” he said.
“Okay, little friend, maybe the world is beyond help for the present. Man has abused it too much for his own greed. In our Celtic time, everything was in harmony with nature. I was wrong to conceal you here, and I expected too much of you.” The old druid shook his head. “I will take you to a place where nothing further will harm you.”
Caffa stretched his thin arms out in front of him and opened his hands, palms downwards, over the Shamrogues. He began to recite the wondrous magic spell of “Twilights”.
“Delat nabo blundat Manannan, Lu…” he chanted. “Stellta roden pranget parat bronéé, Manannan, Lu…Auwii!”
A thick grey swirling mist, softened with flashing colours that shot towards the ceiling, began to fill the chamber and spiralled with increasing speed to envelope Caffa and the Shamrogues. At the very centre of the whirling mass, both druid and Shamrogues were whipped into the vortex, where they became translucent and part of the mist itself.
From above the entrance to the passageway, where there was an opening, rays of sunshine filtered in to light the gloom and creep towards the chamber.
Outside, Niamh squeezed Mulligan’s hand. The little girl and big man were aware that something was happening within. “They’re going, aren’t they?” she asked quietly, tears welling in her eyes.
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