The Shamrogues
Page 13
Mulligan looked down and met her gaze. “Yes, Niamh, I’m afraid so. I don’t think they can survive here now.”
As the full circle of the sun’s radiant disc cleared the horizon, a luminous mist started to escape through the window over the entrance. Spiralling silently skywards, it was buffeted by the mildest breeze, and evaporated slowly as the warming sun kissed it on its journey to the heavens.
“And now they are gone,” Mulligan said, and sighed. Neither he nor Niamh said anything for what seemed to be a long time.
“Here are some things they’ve left behind,” Mulligan said eventually. “I’m sure they would have wanted you to have them.”
He stooped and offered the currach to her. She spotted the gem of cut citrine in the bottom.
“And what’s this gorgeous crystal?” she asked.
The big man explained its value, and how it was quartz like the leader of the Shamrogues. It was a link with Trom. The currach was a token of their one great adventure abroad. Niamh gratefully accepted both.
“Right,” Mulligan said. “Let’s get you safely home before you’re missed.”
They walked hand in hand to the farmyard gate. Here Mulligan knelt and smiled. “There’s no need for you to worry about the Shamrogues. I feel they’re safe and well. Now I must be off. My squirrels and bats are expecting me.”
With that, Mulligan sprinted down the lane to a narrow bend where he turned and waved goodbye. Then he was gone.
Niamh stopped at the kitchen door. Before entering her house, she paused and whispered. “Bye, bye, Shamrogues. I love you. Come back soon…”
The morning breeze caressed her cheeks and ruffled her hair. Looking skywards, she imagined they were calling to her on the wind. “We love you, Niamh. Someday…someday…”
Epilogue
The basement of the National Museum was pitch black and cold. Not a sound was heard except the scratchings of a family of mice making their way back to the warmth of their nests after their wanderings in search of food. They never needed to fear this place; no one ever spent much time down here after dark. The mice had heard the humans say that ghosts had been seen here, strange noises and such like, but the mice knew that it was only the building creaking and settling.
Suddenly something caught their attention − a faint silvery glow in a corner, which rapidly got brighter and seemed to pulsate. They heard a loud cracking sound and then what seemed like an explosion boomed through the basement. The mice ran as fast as their legs would go. On the floor in the corner lay the remains of a small Ogham stone, shattered like a broken mirror. The pieces shimmered briefly for a few seconds and then faded in the darkness.
That night, as she lay in bed, Niamh thought about her friends the Shamrogues, as she had done all day, before finally falling asleep. On her dressing table Trom’s quartz crystal stood where she had placed it before going to bed. Later, as the moon rose higher in the sky, its beam through the window caught the jewel. The crystal flared and grew brighter, filling the whole room with a dazzling white light. On the walls, shadows played and danced — five shadows, somehow familiar. Out in the hallway the old grandfather clock’s tick-tocking seemed to be saying something else. It sounded like “Trom – tick – Glick – tock – Croga – tick – Gorum – tock – Sona – tick – Trom – tock…”
Niamh stirred and sighed, snuggling deeper into her pillow.