Shadowmagic s-1

by John Lenahan

  Me and my big mouth. ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘So that’s why you say so many stupid things.’

  ‘I don’t say stupid things.’

  ‘You do,’ Fergal said, flashing a smile that seemed to light up the place. ‘Is that why you want to see Deirdre, to help you get back?’

  ‘That’s part of it. I really can’t tell you the rest-sorry’

  ‘That’s OK. Can you tell me about the Real World? What’s it like?’

  ‘Some of it is like here, only not as vivid. Compared to The Land, the Real World seems to have a thin veil of grey over everything.’

  ‘Sounds awful.’

  ‘Sometimes it is-but it’s my home, or at least was-and no one ever tried to kill me there.’

  ‘I didn’t try to kill you!’ Fergal protested.

  ‘I didn’t mean you.’

  ‘Who else has tried to kill you?’

  ‘It’s a long list.’

  ‘Conor,’ Araf said, and I jumped. The guy is so quiet, you forget that he is there. ‘If you have enemies, your travelling companions should know about it.’

  He had a point. ‘OK, two people have tried to kill me-Cialtie and Nieve.’

  ‘Cialtie and Nieve,’ Araf repeated, ‘this is not good. Why do they want to kill you?’

  I searched for a lie to keep them happy but couldn’t do it-I had to trust these guys. I just hoped they weren’t big prophecy fans. ‘Because Deirdre is my mother.’

  For the first time, probably in history, Araf looked startled. ‘Who is your father?’

  Before I could answer we heard the whinny of horses and a cry for help-it was Essa. I grabbed my stick and leaped to my feet. We found her with her banta stick drawn, standing between the horses and four wild boars. I had never seen a live boar before but I am certain that the ones in the Real World are nowhere near as big as these boys. They had Essa surrounded and looked mean. I was shocked to see Fergal and Araf walk up to them like they were puppies. One turned and charged at Fergal, four hundred pounds of flesh pushing two enormous tusks, hurtling towards him, and he just stood there, like a rabbit caught in headlights. I dived and pushed him out of the way, almost getting clobbered myself.

  ‘What is the matter with you?’ I screamed as we both clambered to our feet.

  ‘What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with the boar?’

  We circled over to Essa.

  ‘I have never seen anything like this,’ she said. ‘Something is very wrong with these animals.’

  ‘What do you normally do when a boar attacks?’ I whispered.

  ‘Boars don’t usually attack,’ she said. ‘This is a very bad sign.’

  ‘Shoo!’ Araf said, waving his hands and walking towards the biggest one of them. ‘Go home!’

  I was a bit jealous that Araf was having a longer conversation with this pig than he had ever had with me. Suddenly the boar charged him. Amazingly Araf stood his ground and with the reflexes of a cat, grabbed the boar’s tusks and twisted. The two of them rolled once and came up on their feet. Araf skidded backwards then found footing on a tree root and held fast. I have never seen such a display of strength.

  As I marvelled, the boar that had attacked Fergal charged back for a second shot at him. Fergal legged it into the night. I would have helped him but the remaining two animals simultaneously came at Essa and me. Now I understood why Fergal had frozen. Forget horror movies, if you really want a fright that will soil your trousers, then stand in front of a charging boar. It’s amazing how fast your mind can work when you are about to be gored. The first thing I hoped was that I was somehow related to the charging swine, then I remembered an old history lesson that mentioned how people in medieval Europe used to hunt boar. They would plant the end of a sharp stick in the ground and wait for the animal to charge. If they got it right, the boar impaled itself-if not, the hunter was the one that got run through.

  This animal was almost on me. I dropped to one knee, planted the base of my stick in the ground, aimed the knob of my staff just below the neck and ducked my head. I got lucky. If I hadn’t hit directly in the centre of its chest the stick would have glanced off and I would be singing soprano in the boys’ choir. Amazingly my aim was true and that sucker was actually launched over my head! Its back hoof clipped me on the forehead as it went over, but other than that I was unharmed. My hazel stick bent but it held and pole-vaulted a very surprised creature sideways into a tree. It ran off, squealing into the night like a frightened piglet.

  I didn’t have time to gloat-Essa was in trouble. She had lost her stick and was down on her side, and her attacker was preparing for a killer charge. There was no way I was going to cover the distance between us in time to help. I reached into my sock and threw Dahy’s dagger just as the boar began to move. I swear that knife swerved with the movement of the animal and stabbed it in the neck-right up to the hilt. It literally stopped it dead.

  Essa had been winded by her own staff as she tried to block the first charge, but she hadn’t been gored. Araf’s opponent just gave up and ran away-smart animal. Fergal returned with a flaming branch from the fire that he had used to frighten his pursuer away.

  Essa got slowly to her feet and looked at the dead animal. ‘You shouldn’t have killed it,’ she said.

  ‘Excuse me, didn’t you mean to say, “ Thank you, Conor, for saving my life”? ‘

  ‘We don’t kill animals in The Land without their permission.’

  ‘I didn’t see the boar asking you if you wanted to be turned into a pegboard!’

  ‘Nevertheless, you shouldn’t have killed it.’ She placed her hands on the dead hulk and mumbled a prayer.

  ‘I can’t believe this. I thought you might at least be grateful enough to maybe not want me dead.’

  ‘She wants you dead too?’ Fergal said. ‘What is going on?’

  It was moment of truth time.

  ‘My father is Oisin-OK?’

  ‘You are the son of the one-handed prince?’ Araf said.

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  Araf raised his banta stick and came at me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Hazellands

  This was an attack I was not going to survive. I had seen Araf’s banta stick prowess and I had seen his strength and agility with the boar-plus I was unarmed. I dropped to my knees and covered my head. I felt the swish of his lead-filled stick as it travelled close to my head, and then I heard a crack and a squeal of a boar behind me. I opened my eyes, without taking my hands off my head, looked around and saw an unconscious boar.

  ‘Good one, Araf!’ Fergal yelled. ‘I didn’t even see him coming.’

  ‘This is a bad sign,’ Essa said. ‘The Pookas need to be informed of this.’

  ‘Pookas?’

  ‘Pookas are the animal tenders in The Land. They are having a hard time at the moment. Cialtie has stopped their gold allowance completely. They must have abandoned the Eastlands. We should get back to the fire.’

  ‘So, none of you is going to kill me?’ I called after them, still on my knees with my arms covering my head.

  ‘Not me,’ Fergal said.

  ‘Maybe later,’ Essa said.

  ‘How about you, Araf?’ I asked, standing.

  ‘I’m just a farmer,’ he said. ‘I don’t kill people.’

  After the animal attack Essa decided we should keep a guard. My trouser-less sleep, the boar fight and a near-death experience had left me wide awake. I volunteered to take first watch.

  My three companions went out like cheap light bulbs. I was relieved to see that that I wasn’t the only one who was tired after a long day of riding. I threw a piece of wood on the fire and softly said, ‘ Thank you,’ to whichever tree gave it to us. It was the first time in The Land that I had been outside at night and not been unconscious. I studied the stars. It unnerved me to see a night sky so unfamiliar. The air above me was packed with stars that seemed close enough to throw a rock at. There was no moon but the night didn’t need on
e-the starlight cast a shadowless glow on everything that made the forest seem incandescent. Other than Fergal’s flopping in his sleep, all was perfectly still.

  It was nice to be out of the closet-so to speak. I’m not a very good liar and it felt right to be honest-I liked these people. OK, it would be nice if Fergal talked less and Araf talked more-but those were not big problems. I really liked Fergal. Underneath the laddish exterior I knew he had heart. Araf, on the other hand, was a tough nut to crack. I was beginning to realise that although he was the most taciturn man I had ever met, when he did say something, it was important. I had no problem placing my life in their hands.

  Essa was my real dilemma. She was just the most wonderful girl I had ever met, but she was so hostile. If she had been like this when I first met her, I don’t think it would have bothered me so much. A beautiful woman who turns out to be a jerk, loses her beauty in my eyes, but Essa and I got along great at first. These days I flinched every time she scratched her nose. I watched the firelight dance on her face. No matter how cold she had been to me lately, I couldn’t help thinking how lovely she was. I don’t think I fell asleep looking at her but I kind of got hypnotised. I let the fire get low and didn’t snap out of it until Essa shot open her eyes.

  ‘What are you looking at?’

  ‘I was just thinking how nice you are-when you’re asleep.’

  ‘You have almost let the fire out. Did you close your eyes?’

  ‘No. But I will now. It’s your watch.’ I put my head down. It stung where the boar hoof had clipped my forehead, and I winced.

  Essa picked up a twig, set fire to the end and brought it towards my face for light. ‘Let me clean that wound for you, it looks nasty.’

  ‘No thanks,’ I said, ‘I prefer not to be nursed by people who want me dead.’

  I rolled over but sleep wouldn’t come. She was trying to be nice and I was mad at myself for being stubborn. I stewed over how I could have dealt with that better. Soon the stillness of the night and the crackle of the fire lulled me. Then I heard it. It might have been a dream but I don’t think so-just before I fell asleep I could have sworn I hear Essa whisper, ‘Thank you, Conor, for saving me from the boar.’

  I awoke to the smell of bacon. Ah, it was all a dream, I thought to myself, I’m back home in my bedroom and Dad is cooking me breakfast , but instead of a face full of cotton I opened my eyes to a face full of grass. Araf had butchered the boar I had killed and was cooking ham steaks over the fire. Essa was not to be seen and Fergal was still asleep.

  ‘Good morning,’ I said, not expecting an answer and not getting one. I stood up and went over to Fergal and shook him on the shoulder to wake him. His Banshee blade popped out of his sleeve and stabbed the air in the exact place where my nose had been seconds before. I jumped back and grabbed my banta stick.

  ‘For crying out loud!’ I screamed. ‘You almost killed me with that thing.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Fergal said as he got up. Then he saw his blade was out. He cocked his wrist quickly and it disappeared up his sleeve. ‘I did it again, didn’t I?’

  Araf nodded.

  ‘That’s it!’ I said. ‘From now on I wake you with a stick too.’

  Essa returned. ‘What is all the noise?’

  ‘You have heard of sleepwalking? Well, Fergal was sleep-stabbing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Never mind. Just be careful if you have to wake him up.’

  We broke camp. I washed the dried blood off my head wound. It hurt like hell. I should have let Essa do it last night. I climbed into Acorn’s saddle unaided. I was quite proud of myself, even if no one seemed to notice. The inside of my legs howled in protest at the prospect of another day on horseback but it didn’t hurt as much as I expected.

  The landscape was green and rolling, sprinkled with the odd tree here and there. The day was warm and pleasant. The Land was in the height of summer. It made me wonder how spectacular the autumn must be.

  Since it seemed we weren’t being followed, we rode in pairs and talked freely. Essa had lightened up-a bit. She told me we were not taking the most direct route to the Reedlands, so as to avoid castles and villages. We would be travelling all day in the Eastlands-the so-called No-rune Lands-and tonight we would camp on the edge of the Hazellands.

  ‘The Hazellands?’ I said. ‘You mean my mother’s home?’

  ‘Yes. The shortest path is through Castle Cull.’

  ‘Castle Cull? You mean the Hall of Knowledge?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Wasn’t it destroyed?’

  ‘It was, my father told me to avoid it, but I want to see…’

  ‘Where your brother died.’

  Her head snapped around and she had a fierce look in her eyes. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Your father told me. I’m sorry-it must be awful to lose a brother.’

  Her face softened. ‘He left to study at Cull when I was very young. He sent me a letter every week telling me all the gossip from the Hall of Knowledge. I so desperately wanted to study there when I grew up. He used to write quite a bit about your mother, he was very fond of her.’

  ‘Does anyone know what happened?’

  ‘No. Your grandfather Finn called a meeting of the Runelords. Ona was going to try to find out who (or what) destroyed Cull, but the night before the runecasting she died in her sleep.’

  ‘My father accused Cialtie of killing Ona.’

  ‘What did Cialtie say?’

  ‘He didn’t deny it.’

  ‘The more I hear about this uncle of yours-the less I like him.’

  ‘Well, I certainly took an instant dislike to him.’

  ‘I’ll leave it up to you, Conor, should we go to the Hall of Knowledge and see for ourselves?’

  ‘I think we should.’

  She smiled. A weak smile, but a smile nonetheless, the first one I had seen on her face since the party.

  Fergal yelled, ‘Cherries!’ and broke into a gallop.

  Araf and Essa kicked into a gallop and Acorn followed suit, and I almost fell off his back. Once I got used to the terrifying speed I found that galloping was the smoothest ride of all. Acorn seemed to almost float in the air as I pumped my arms in rhythm to his bouncing head. Ahead, the others had stopped in front of an orchard of cherry trees. Acorn stopped next to them and I nearly went over his head again. (The riding part, I was getting good at-it was the stopping, turning and starting I was having trouble with.) Fergal reached up, picked a fruit and popped it in his mouth.

  ‘You didn’t ask permission,’ I said.

  ‘You don’t have to with cherries,’ Fergal mumbled, and then spat out a pip. ‘Cherries are the friendliest trees in The Land. They love getting picked. It’s like you are doing them a favour.’

  As we walked our horses through the grove, the trees lowered their branches to us, and we picked and ate to our hearts’ content. Some trees even dropped cherries on me. They were delicious. Araf filled his hat and I stuffed as many in my saddlebag as I could fit. The feeling of welcome among these trees was overwhelming, and when we left I could sense that they wanted us to take even more.

  That night around the campfire Fergal told me why he wanted to see Deirdre. ‘I want to find out who I am,’ he said. ‘I was raised by a woman called Breithe-she was Araf’s nanny. As you can see I am not an Imp. Breithe knew who my real parents were, she promised to tell me all when I reached Rune-age. She died before she could tell me.’

  ‘How did she die?’

  ‘She went out foraging for mushrooms and ate a poisonous one. A lifetime of mushroom picking-I can’t imagine how she could have made such a mistake. She was a good woman.’

  ‘I’m sorry for you both,’ I said.

  Araf nodded.

  ‘So that is why I want to see Deirdre,’ Fergal concluded. ‘I hope she can use her magic to tell me who I am and where I came from.’

  ‘I hope so too,’ I said.

  Essa took the first watch. I w
as asleep the moment my head hit the ground.

  I dreamt I was in a rainstorm but it wasn’t raining water, it was raining cherries. I put my arms out to my side and lent my head back and caught cherry after cherry in my mouth. I looked and saw Fergal doing the same. Scores of cherries were pouring into his mouth, and as he tried to chew them the dark red juice poured out of his mouth. I awoke with that image in my eyes.

  Essa woke me-it was my watch. She had just closed her eyes when I saw a light approach. It was erratic, like someone running with a candle. As it got closer I saw that no one was holding it; an incredibly bright light just floated in the air and it was coming directly for us. I shook Essa and pointed.

  She sat up alert and then laughed. ‘Conor, haven’t you ever seen a firefly before?’

  ‘Not like that. That’s a flying sixty-watt light bulb.’

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about but it’s just a firefly. Look.’

  She closed her eyes and whispered, ‘Lamprog.’ It flew straight to her and lit her face.

  ‘I used to do this when I was a little girl.’ The firefly flew into her cupped hands, she whispered to it and it fluttered into her hair and sat there like a magic jewel.

  ‘Good night, Conor.’ She put her head down and closed her eyes. The firefly stayed in place and illuminated the side of her face.

  ‘You must have been a lovely little girl,’ I said.

  She didn’t open her eyes but she smiled and said, ‘I was.’

  The firefly stayed there until her breathing became regular and then flew off, I imagined, to find a proper little girl.

  The next morning, we had travelled for less than an hour when we reached the border of the Hazellands. You could actually see it on the ground. One step was green and alive, the next was brown and dead. Acorn was hesitant to cross the line. We travelled in silence and saw nothing alive. I had seen drought-stricken land before, but this was worse-it was as if the life force of the place was gone and nothing had the will to survive.

  Araf was in front. He crested a hill, stopped and dismounted. Actually to say he dismounted is being generous, he almost fell out of his saddle. He stared at the landscape ahead of him and dropped to his knees. I crested the hill and saw what he had seen. A huge field as far as the eye could see was blackened with ash and burnt crops.