by John Lenahan
The two policemen cautiously entered the room. ‘Why do you want a pen?’ Fallon asked.
‘I just do! Give me your damn pen!’
‘I’m not going to give you my pen,’ the detective said in pacifying tones, ‘until you tell me what you want it for.’
‘OK, I did it. I want to confess. Give me your notepad and pen and I’ll write a confession.’
‘What did you do?’
‘What you said I did. Give me your pen and I’ll write it all down for you – everything.’
The two policemen looked at each other in amazement. Fallon gave me a sceptical look but he offered out his notepad and pen. I snatched the ballpoint, ran over to the table and turned the slate around to write on it. Fallon grabbed the pen back before I could etch a mark and tried to read the Gaelic sentence aloud. ‘Did you write this?’ he said.
‘Yes, yes I did. See I’m crazy. I’m writing letters to myself in made-up languages. Here I’ll show you.’ I reached for the slate but he pulled it out of my reach.
We stared at each other, his eyes narrowed with an effort to figure out what was going on. I gazed back wide-eyed and pleading. ‘Please,’ I said. ‘Trust me, this is important.’
He handed me the slate and I wrote on it, ‘YES!!!’
I dropped the slate on the table and stared at it. So did Fallon. Just when I thought my eyes were going to burn a hole in the gold surface, letters appeared one by one. ‘I WILL BE RIGHT THERE,’ it said.
Fallon’s eyes shot up to look at me. They were a lot wider than before. ‘What just happened here?’
‘I got a magic email.’
&>‘What … what does it say?’
‘It says, “I will be right there.”’
‘And what does that mean?’
‘It means – my mom’s gonna bail me out.’
Chapter Two
Jail Break
‘Conor,’ Detective Fallon said, ‘no one is going to bail you out.’
It was just the two of us again. I had finally calmed down enough for him to dismiss the guard. ‘You saw what was written on the slate.’
‘I did. How did you do that, some sort of conjuring trick?’
That made me laugh. ‘Not a conjuring trick, it’s a magic trick – real magic.’
Fallon picked up the emain slate and turned it in his hands. ‘So what, is there some sort of electric gadget in here?’
‘Look at it. It’s just a sheet of gold. Come on, you’re a detective. What did Sherlock Holmes say? “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” I’ve been telling you the truth all along. My father is fine and my mother is coming to take me to him.’
‘So you imagine she is going to show up and you and she are just going to walk out of here.’
‘Ride out of here,’ I corrected, ‘she’ll be on a horse.’
‘OK, that’s it,’ Fallon said, slapping his palms on the table, ‘you win, I’ll get you the psychologist.’
He stood to leave but I grabbed his wrist. He instinctively balled his other hand into a fist but then relaxed when he saw I wasn’t going to attack him – I had something important to say.
‘When she comes, Brendan, don’t fight her. She is … well, she’s not a normal mom.’
Fallon threw off my grip and said, ‘Bah!’ Just then there was a knock at the door. A young officer poked his head in looking excited. ‘What?’ Fallon barked.
‘There are two women outside on horses,’ the officer stuttered. ‘You have to see them, they’re gorgeous. They want to see the prisoner.’
Fallon whipped his head around and stared at me, the colour draining from his face.
I shrugged. ‘That will be my ride.’
I paced around the room for what seemed like an eternity. I don’t think I had ever been so excited, it took all of my willpower to stop from jumping up and down shouting, ‘Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!’ I tried to relax. ‘Right, what should I do?’ I said, talking to myself. ‘Pack.’ I looked around the room and laughed, the only thing there was the emain slate. I picked it up. I paced some more. ‘Come on, come on,’ I said out loud.
The door flew open and Fallon came storming in. ‘What the hell is going on here?’
‘Where is she? What’s happening?’
‘There are two women outside on huge horses wearing trick-or-treat outfits. The one who spoke said her name was Deirdre and that the other was called Nieve.’
‘Nieve! Nieve’s here? She’s my aunt.’
Fallon was angry. He grabbed my shirt with both hands and pulled me close to his face. ‘What are you playing at?’
I tried to be as calm as I could. ‘What did you tell them?’
‘I told them they had to wait.’
‘You didn’t …?’
‘I did.’
‘That probably wasn’t a good idea.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, I don’t know my aunt all that well but waiting isn’t Mom’s strong suit.’
As if on cue a huge explosion shook the room. Fallon let go of me and said, ‘Stay here!’
As the door swung behind him I dived across the room and painfully trapped my arm in the doorjamb before it could lock.
The hallway was filled with dust and smoke. Cops were lying unconscious everywhere. In the distance I could hear screams of ‘My eyes!’ Nieve was casually riding towards me. She had blown out all of the door archways so she didn’t even have to duck. Her right hand was held out to her side and two marble-sized balls of gold were orbiting it like atoms around a nucleus. Two policemen appeared out of a room to her left. Without even looking at them, she flicked her wrist and the gold marbles hit them in the chest. They were thrown back into the room with an explosion of light.
She spotted me. ‘Conor, are you harmed?’
‘No, I’m OK,’ I shouted. ‘Where’s Mom?’
‘She is outside preparing a portal. Catch,’ she said, throwing me an oak banta stick.
I examined it. ‘I prefer hazel.’
She gave me a dirty look but then smiled. ‘Come,’ she said, holding out her hand.
I started to reach for it when I heard a voice from behind me say, ‘Freeze!’
I turned to see Detective Fallon pointing a gun at Nieve. He was obviously freaked.
‘Nobody move. Put your hands in the air and get off the horse, lady.’
‘Conor,’ Nieve said, ‘what is that in his hand?’
‘It’s a weapon, Aunt Nieve.’ She went to reach under her cloak.
‘I said freeze!’
‘Hold on, Nieve,’ I said, ‘let me talk to him.’
Fallon kept the gun pointed at Nieve but flicked a glance in my direction. He was real edgy.
‘Brendan,’ I said in my calmest voice, ‘this is my Aunt Nieve, my father’s sister. She’s from Tir na Nog, that’s why she is riding a horse. Remember, I told you about that?’
The muscle in Fallon’s jaw twitched. I wasn’t sure if I was getting through to him.
‘I’m going to go with her. Put your gun down and no one will get hurt.’
‘What, I’m just supposed to let you walk out of here?’ His gun shook as he spoke. ‘She killed all of my officers.’
‘Conor, why are we talking? What is he saying that is so important?’
‘He is upset ’cause you killed his men.’
‘They will live,’ Nieve said. I could hear the impatience in her voice. ‘Conor, we do not have time for this.’
She was right. The longer we stood here the more likely it was that more cops would show up and I was desperate to see my mother. I decided to take Fallon out of the equation.
Unfortunately I was holding my banta stick upside-down so I had to flick the gun out of his hand with the heavy end and then use the light end on his neck. Dahy wouldn’t have been very impressed with the blow but it did the job and the detective went down. I grabbed Nieve’s hand and she lifted me onto the back of the saddle as if I weighe
d nothing.
‘I never got your Christmas card,’ she said as she manoeuvred the horse into the opposite direction.
‘Christmas isn’t for two months.’
‘Well, that explains it.’ I wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not.
We rode back through what used to be a police station. No one stopped us. The only sounds were a few moans. Daylight poured through what used to be the front door. I shaded my eyes and was rewarded with the sight of my mother. My heart leapt and I involuntarily kicked the back of the horse, the mount lurched and I almost fell off.
‘Be careful, Conor!’ Nieve said. ‘I would prefer not to fall.’
‘Of course, sorry.’
Nieve walked her horse next to Mom’s. I hugged Mom and she returned it. ‘Conor, are you all right?’
‘I am now,’ I said.
‘Deirdre,’ Nieve said, ‘I do not like this place.’
‘How’s Dad?’ I asked, still holding my mother. I never wanted to let go.
Mom pushed me back. ‘Nieve is right. We must get out of here – we can talk when we get home.’
Mom took some sap and a gold disc out of her saddlebag and began to chant as she rubbed them both between ands. Amber light shot from her fingertips and created a spider web that eventually filled in to produce a large glowing disc.
‘Are you ready?’ Mom asked.
‘Born ready.’
‘Everybody stay right where you are!’ It was Fallon – with one hand he held his neck, in the other he held a gun.
Nieve and Mom stepped their horses sideways for a look. ‘Who is this?’ Mom demanded.
‘Mom, this is Detective Fallon – Detective Fallon, this is my mother.’
Fallon pointed the gun menacingly. ‘Everybody get down, we’re all going back inside.’
Mom and Nieve started to reach inside their cloaks. I raised my hand and stopped them. ‘No we’re not, Brendan, we don’t belong here – I don’t belong here.’
‘I said get down!’
‘They can’t, Brendan, it would kill them. You see that glowing disc over there, that’s a door into another world – The Land. We are going to enter it and we will be gone. If we are not, then you can shoot me.’
‘I’m warning you, O’Neil.’
‘Brendan, I didn’t kill my father, he is right on the other side of that door, you have the wrong man. You said it yourself – I’m not a bad guy. Please – you have to trust me.’
I could almost hear his brain cells working; he lowered his gun and we walked towards the disc. I didn’t look back.
We arrived in the Hall of Spells. I expected the journey to be painful (most of this Shadowmagic stuff is) but other than a few spots in front of my vision and an annoying ringing in my ears, I was fine.
I jumped down and gave Mom a proper hug. She returned it quickly but then said, ‘I have to go, I will talk to you later.’ I didn’t like the way she looked; she was still undisputedly the most beautiful woman in the world, but in her eyes I saw a haggard look. She dashed out of the room.
I was a bit taken aback. I turned to Nieve and said, ‘Is she all right?’
‘She is fine, Conor.’
I let out a sigh of relief and then took in a lungful of air and it hit me, I could feel the vitality seep into every cell. A smile took over my face and I said to myself, ‘I’m back.’ Then I threw my hands out to my sides and shouted to the roof, ‘I’m back!’ I startled a stable boy who quickly led the horses away – that’s when I saw him. Detective Fallon with dishevelled clothes and hair shooting out in all directions was crouched in the corner and he had a wild glint in his eyes. He looked like one of those girls in a slasher movie that had just witnessed her entire sorority get killed.
‘Oh my gods,’ I said.
Our eyes locked, it scared me, I had seen that look before. He was wearing the same face that Fergal wore when he went mad and tried to kill Cialtie.
‘Brenan?’
At the sound of his name he pulled the gun from between his knees and levelled it at me.
I dropped my banta stick and said, ‘Hey, calm down, Brendan, no one is going to hurt you.’ I walked slowly towards him, palms up. He aimed the gun at my face, his arm shaking. I wondered if he even knew who he was. ‘It’s OK, you’re safe. Your name is Brendan Fallon, you have a wife and a daughter, it’s OK we’ll sort this out.’
At the mention of his family a spark of sanity fluttered in his eyes. He dipped the gun a bit, but then both of us were startled by a voice to the left shouting my name.
‘Conor – catch!’
A banta came sailing through the air. As I caught it, time slowed like it always does when I’m in mortal peril. I saw the lights go out in Fallon’s eyes and I could actually see the muscles in his fingers as they tightened on the trigger, I could almost hear them. I suspected that guns didn’t work in The Land but I didn’t want to take that chance. I performed the same manoeuvre as before, except this time I hit the gun with the light end of the stick and rounded on Fallon’s head with the heavy end. I hit him way harder than I wanted to – that wasn’t my fault, the stick had been thrown by Araf and his stick is filled with lead. The gun clicked at some point during the fracas but it didn’t fire. I was right, they don’t work here. Fallon went down like a ton of concrete and I instantly felt real guilty.
I rushed to him – he was out cold. Nieve strolled over and placed her hands on both sides of his head. ‘Did I kill him?’ I asked.
‘He’ll live,’ she replied and unceremoniously dropped his head back onto the floor.
Two guards arrived and I instructed them to carry him to the infirmary and keep a guard. ‘Be nice to him,’ I called after them, ‘and make sure he gets some of that willow tea when he wakes up, he’s going to need it.’
‘Can I have my stick back?’
‘Araf!’ I shouted as I turned. I had almost forgotten he was there. I ran to the Imp and wrapped my arms around him. It was like hugging a refrigerator and I could tell he didn’t like it.
‘Are you injured?’ he asked.
‘No, I’m fine.’
He nodded. ‘I have to get back to work now,’ he said and turned to leave.
‘Well, it’s great to see you again too,’ I called after him. I laughed – this was the strangest of homecomings.
Well, it was just me and Nieve. Not my favourite relative but I didn’t care. She stood in the middle of the room wringing her hands; the look on her face wiped the smile off my own.
‘Where’s Dad?’ I asked.
‘Conor,’ she said, looking down at her hands and then directly into my eyes, ‘Oisin is dying.’
Chapter Three
Dad
I followed Nieve through the winding corridors of the west wing. Dad was in The Lord’s Chamber, the same one that Cialtie had used and where we had found Dad’s runehand.
‘Prepare yourself,’ Nieve warned, ‘he does not look good.’
My stomach churned as I opened the door. Mom, Fand and an Imp-healer were standing around a bed wearing expressions ranging from puzzlement to grief. I had to cover my mouth to hide the gasp – he looked awful. My father’s skin was ashen grey, paper-like, and his face was dotted with sores. Most of his hair had fallen out and what was left was pure white. My first thought was that he was dead already, that’s how bad he looked. I knelt down next to the bed and held his hand.
‘Dad, Dad, it’s me, Conor.’
I didn’t think he could hear me but then his eyes flickered and opened. An almost Duir smile lit his face. ‘Conor? Conor, are you all right?’ His voice was faint and raspy. ‘Deirdre said you were in trouble.’
‘I’m fine, Dad.’ I didn’t know what to say, his famous dark eyes had lost their shine. I could hardly stand it.
‘Good,’ he said, ‘I was worried about you. So how was your trip home?’
I laughed, one of those painful laughs that are half a chuckle and half crying. ‘It was awful.’
‘What happened w
hen you got back?’
‘The police arrested me for your murder.’
This brought a huge grin to his face. ‘No!’
‘Yes,’ I laughed through tears.
Dad started to laugh too but his laughter was replaced by a spasm of coughs. He had to close his eyes for a half a minute. When he opened them he squeezed my hand and said, ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
‘Me too.’ I held his hand for a while and then said, ‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘For what?’
‘I never realised until I went back, just how much you gave up for me. I don’t know how you stood it.’
‘Well, when it got really bad, I used to go to your room and watch you sleep, that gave me strength.’
I dropped my head on his chest and wept openly. He stroked my hair. ‘I have to rest now,’ he said, ‘we’ll talk later.’
Mom put her hands on my shoulders and guided me out. In the hallway we held onto each other; then she led me into an adjacent room.
A Leprechaun brought in a tray of tea. Mom thanked her and sent her away. As she handed me a cup, I asked, ‘What’s the matter with him?’
‘We’re not sure; she said as she poured herself a cup, ‘but we think it is his hand.’
‘His runehand? The one he reattached in the Choosing?’
‘Yes. The Land has a life force that binds us to it; your father gave that all up when he escaped to the Real World. I thought getting his hand back would restore his immortality – I was wrong, it has done just the opposite. Our best guess is that The Land is confused, it sees your father as two things, a young hand that belongs here and an older man that does not. The Land is choosing his hand.’
‘Like a heart transplant patient rejecting a donor organ?’
‘I don’t know what you mean but rejecting is a good word. Oisin’s hand is rejecting the rest of him. It is killing him.’
‘Isn’t there anything you can do?’
‘We have tried everything, to no avail, but there is one desperate measure left to us. Just before you arrived Fand and I decided it is our only hope.’
