by John Lenahan
‘Of course,’ I replied in the same language, ‘you think I’m gonna hump all the way up this hill and not get any answers? Let’s just see how much he wants to see me.’
Brendan nodded and put his arm on Spideog’s and Araf’s shoulders and said, ‘All right, let’s go.’ The boys started to object, there is obviously no Texas Hold-um in The Land. Brendan pushed them off the porch, ‘You heard the boss, come on.’
‘Wait,’ came a squeaky sound out of the Brownie, ‘wait here.’
He scurried into the Yew House. I sat on the bottom step suppressing the impulse of making them chase us down the trail.
Ten minutes later I was still trying to explain to Araf the subtleties of bluffing.
‘You mean lying,’ he said.
‘It’s not lying, it’s saying an untruth in order to make your opponent give in to you,’ I expounded.
‘It still sounds like lying.’
‘Well, I think we should try a little poker, Araf. I bet you would be quite good at it.’
‘I don’t lie.’
‘It’s not lying, it’s bluffing!’
Our Brownie messenger came onto the porch, saving Araf and me from going around that circle again. Now that he had new instructions he looked much more composed. ‘You may all enter but only the Son of Duir may speak.’
I felt like saying no deal again and sending him back inside but it was getting cold. ‘Is that all right with you guys?’
Brendan spoke in English again. ‘If I want to say something once I get in there – who’s gonna stop me?’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ I said. ‘Spideog, are you OK with this?’
The archer nodded but I could see he didn’t like it.
‘Araf, do you think you can manage not talking for a while?’ I smiled at him but he gave nothing back.u can always count on Araf.
I nodded to the Brownie, who looked very relieved that he didn’t have to face his master again with a problem. He motioned for us to follow and pushed open the double doors. Two other Brownies were waiting inside the entrance of a surprisingly long hallway. They fell into step on either side of us. The Yew House it seems was just a front; the dwelling was carved directly into the mountain. As we walked, our footsteps echoed in the lengthy and increasingly dark corridor.
Brendan leaned over my shoulder and said, ‘Well, Dorothy, what are you going to ask the wizard for?’
A large carving of Eioho, the Yew Rune, marked the end of the stone hallway. To the right a couple of Brownies opened two wooden doors and gestured for us to enter; they didn’t follow and closed the doors behind us. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the light. The high vaulted ceiling had glass discs inset into the stone which put out as much light as any electric fixture in the Real World. The light bounced dramatically off the black seamless polished marble floors that I assumed to be the stone the mountain was made of. The walls were panelled with yew wood. Mom had told me about how difficult it was for her to earn the tiny wand she received from a yew tree – it made me wonder what kind of power the builder of this house must have. As my eyes adjusted I saw the Oracle in the centre of the room. He was seated in a huge chair, or I guess I should call it a throne, made from the severed trunk of a yew tree – its roots spread out at the bottom like the appendages of a starfish. The discs from the ceiling spewed tight beams of light all around but not directly on him. He wore plain black robes that rippled in the cool breeze. His face was illuminated from the reflection off the black marble. It gave the same appearance as when a boy scout puts a flashlight under his chin to tell a spooky story around a campfire. The room went on for a distance that I could not make out. No one spoke for ages.
I’m not good with uncomfortable silences, so I broke it. ‘Nice digs you got here.’
‘The Son of the One-Handed Prince,’ he said in a whispery voice that seemed as if it was unused to speaking. ‘I have heard about you.’
‘What did you hear?’
‘I have heard that you are impertinent.’
‘Yeah, I get that a lot. Have you heard anything good about me?’ There was no reply so I continued. ‘By the way, I’m no longer the Son of the One-Handed Prince.’
‘Are you saying Ona was wrong?’
‘No, Ona’s prophecy was spot on but it wasn’t about me. It was about Fergal of Ur – Cialtie’s son.’
‘Cialtie has no son.’
For the first time I saw a movement in the back of the room. It was hard to see in this light but it looked like there was a hooded figure towards the back of it.
‘Well, if that’s what he told you – he lied. I was there when Cialtie met his son, I was there when he killed him and I was definitely there when my uncle lost his hand.’
The Oracle leaned forward on his throne. The change in light allowed me to see him more clearly. He was old. Not decrepit old but at least young grandfathert decrepitwith lines on his face and silver hair that blew in the wind, like a singer in a Bollywood music video. For The Land this guy looked ancient. He also looked scarily crazy. He leaned back into the gloom and said, ‘You came all of this way to bring me this news?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I know that you helped Cialtie retake his Choosing with my father’s hand.’
This startled the old guy. ‘He told you that?’
‘No,’ I said quickly, sensing that it was a bad idea to get this guy agitated. ‘I did the math. Spideog saw Cialtie coming down from this mountain just before he retook his Choosing. Since no one in The Land knows how he did this, it stands to reason that you advised him.’
A smile came to his face that in the light sent a shiver down my spine. ‘So you came to prove that you are clever as well as impertinent?’
‘No, sir, I came to ask if you would help my father.’
‘Why has he not come himself?’
‘He’s dying. His new hand and his body are in conflict. It is killing him.’
‘Your trip is wasted then, Conor of Duir. I would have no idea how to save him from such a singular malady – no one in The Land would.’
‘I’m not looking for a cure, sir, only directions.’
‘Directions?’ He looked confused but interested. ‘Directions to where?’
‘To where I can find the blood of a tughe tine.’
You would think that a wise old oracle would have a better poker face, but when he heard this he definitely twitched before he regained his composure. ‘I’m sorry you wasted a trip but I know nothing of the place of which you speak.’
‘I think you do.’
‘You have charm, young prince, that has allowed me to forgive your impertinence but my patience is running thin.’
‘The first Turlow came to you for the same advice. You told the Grey Ones how to find it.’
The Oracle threw his head back and laughed. As he did I noticed the hooded person, who had been lurking in the shadows the entire time, running out of the back of the room.
‘You climbed all of this way to quote a nursery rhyme intended to keep children out of the sea? I am weary. Leave.’
‘No,’ came a voice from behind me. It was Brendan.
‘You were instructed not to speak, Druid,’ the Oracle hissed in a way that made me think that maybe we all should calm down.
‘I’m not a Druid, I’m a policeman.’
‘And what is a policeman?’
‘I am – a seeker of truth and I don’t believe you when you say you don’t—’
It was just a flick of the Oracle’s wrist but Brendan went over like he had been slugged by a heavyweight. Spideog pulled his bow off his shoulder and was just rhing for an arrow when his bowstring snapped and sliced a gash in his face. Then his bow exploded as he was thrown twenty yards into the air before back-sliding along the polished floor into the wall.
A loud gale of wind whipped around the room. Araf and I looked at each other and wordlessly decided to get the hell out of there. It’s a good thing Araf doesn’t speak often ’cause I had a gut feelin
g that the next guy that lipped off to the Oracle was going to have his head exploded.
The Imp hoisted the unconscious Brendan on his shoulder and we both backed out of the room. ‘Sorry to bother you,’ I shouted as complacently as I could, ‘and thanks for your help. We gotta be going now.’ When I got to Spideog, I unceremoniously grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him out. We pushed through the exit expecting to be clobbered at any minute. As the doors slammed shut I could have sworn I heard laughter coming from within. The Oracle was definitely off my Christmas card list.
The Brownies on the other side of the doors were beside themselves with terror. They buzzed around, high stepping like little kids in need of a pee.
‘What did you say to him?’ one asked. I ignored him while I loosened Spideog’s neckerchief.
Brendan croaked, ‘What happened?’ and Araf gently placed him back on his feet.
‘I’ll explain later. Right now I think we should get out of here.’
I held my ear against Spideog’s mouth – he was still breathing. ‘Araf, can we swap invalids?’ I went over and steadied Brendan while Araf hoisted the old archer on his shoulder like he was a sack of ping-pong balls. Spideog grunted, which I took as a good sign.
The long corridor was longer on the way out. Brownies flitted around telling us to hurry while constantly looking over their shoulders, which was as annoying as it sounds. Brendan got steadier on his feet as we went and was almost walking under his own steam by the time we reached the doors to the outside. It had begun to snow. Araf gently placed Spideog on the porch and the Brownies freaked.
‘No, no, you must go. Go now,’ the tallest one of them shrieked at us and picked up one of the packs that we had left outside the doors and threw it down the steps. When he reached for my pack I kinda lost it and grabbed him by the throat and pinned him against the wall.
‘We have an injured man here. We will go when we are ready.’
The other Brownies didn’t come to their comrade’s aid but huddled together shrieking. The guy I had by the neck didn’t struggle; he just looked at me with puppy-dog eyes and said, ‘Please go.’
It was then that I saw that all of their earlier bravado was just that. Talk about bluffing. These guys lived under the servitude of a nasty piece of work who they were terrified of. I let the Brownie go and said, ‘Sorry, we’ll be as quick as we can.
‘Araf,’ I said, ‘these guys are annoying but they are also right. Can we move him?’
‘He is still unconscious, but I agree. I think we should at least put a wee bit of this mountain between us and this place.’
Brendan tried to pick up a pack and almost fell over, so I assembled all four packs comically on my back while Araf rehoisted Spideog.
Halfway down the trail I looked back. About six Brownies were standing on the porch. They were a pathetic bunch. ‘Come with us,’ I mimed to them, not daring to shout. The five at the back rocked on their legs uncomfortably. The tall guy at the front just shook his head, no, and with a sad smile waved goodbye.
As I was turning back, I saw out of the corner of my eye an upstairs shutter open and the flash of a hooded black-robed figure throwing something. Even if I hadn’t had four packs on my back, I don’t think I could have stopped the knife from hitting Brendan square between the shoulder blades.
Chapter Fifteen
Broken Bow
Brendan went down from the force of the impact as the knife bounced off his back. The blade was still in its sheath. I jumped recklessly towards the edge of the cliff trying to catch it before it went over but the knife spun off into the void. The weight of the packs on my back meant that I almost followed it.
I slithered back from the edge and went to Brendan, who groaned, ‘Son of a …’
‘Are you OK?’
‘What the hell hit me?’
I didn’t feel like explaining – I just wanted to get out of there, so I said, ‘One of those Brownies must have thrown something.’
‘Well, it hurt. Would I be overreacting if I shot one with an arrow?’
‘Yes.’
‘Even if it was just in the leg?’
‘Yes. Come on, we have to get out of here.’
I tried to help him to his feet but with four packs on my back there wasn’t that much I could do. We skirted around the corner and found Araf waiting for us with Spideog still out cold on his shoulder. Even though the ice sheet that had almost killed us earlier was mostly not there any more, Araf suggested we rope-up, and I agreed with him. As the snow started to come down harder and the wind picked up, I fantasised about starting a Real World/Land smuggling operation. The first thing I would import was thermal underwear.
We made it all the way around the mountain. I called a halt just before we came to the part of the path where we could be seen by the Yew House above. Araf didn’t argue with me. I was exhausted walking with the packs and Araf must have been shattered carrying a man on his shoulder. I got a fire going with some kindling I found in Spideog’s bag, brewed up some willow tea and got some into the injured archer. It did the trick.
‘Where is my bow?’
‘Take it easy, Spideog. Don’t try to talk.’
The old guy grabbed my shoulder and opened his eyes. ‘My bow, where is it?’
‘Rest,’ I said.
‘Tell him,’ Brendan said.
‘You tell him.’
‘I was out cold. If you know what happened to his bow then tell him.’
‘My bow,’ Spideog said, trying to get to his feet, ‘I must go back for it.’
‘Wooh, big guy, you are in no fit shape to go anywhere. Your bow is gone. The Oracle trashed it.’
‘What do you mean trashed it? You mean he took it.’
‘No, sir, it’s trashed, destroyed. He waved his hand and it exploded into splinters.’
‘That is not possible,’ he said, grabbing me by my coat. ‘You lie.’
Araf reached over and gently took his hand from my lapel. ‘It is true, Master. I saw it with my own eyes. This fell from your clothing when I first put you down.’ Araf handed him a splintered piece of yew wood.
He took it and began to cry. ‘It is true,’ he moaned, ‘I am not worthy.’
It was hard to watch a man so strong look so defeated. I rummaged through the bags until I found the flask of poteen that my mother had given me before we left and administered some to the unresisting archer. Brendan held him until he slipped back into unconsciousness.
Araf and I debated how long we should rest. I thought it would be a good idea to wait until dark before we entered the part of the path that exposed us to attack from the Yew House above, but Araf thought we should get going before the snow got so bad that we all just slipped off the side of the mountain. I agreed with him when I realised I could no longer feel my toes.
I didn’t even bother to look up when we were in sight of the Yew House. I figured it wouldn’t take much to take us out and if it came, I didn’t really want to see it coming. Despite our fears, we passed unmolested. We donned crampons when we reached the ice ford we had crossed earlier. The snow on the other side was starting to drift so we tried keeping our crampons on but there wasn’t enough snow for that. Crampons are great on ice and packed snow but on solid rock they just make your footing worse. Saying that, when we took them off we still slipped all over the place. After Brendan went down and almost slipped off the side, we all put a single crampon on one foot. We marched through the night limping like the winning team at a shin-kicking competition.
Three quarters of the way down the mountain the snow turned to rain. Wool and rain are not a good mix. It made me feel sorry for sheep. We found a wide and almost sheltered part of the path and camped for what remained of the night. The tea and stale rations did nothing to lift our mood. I had a feeling only a hot bath and a dry change of clothes could do that for me and I wasn’t sure if Spideog would ever recover.
Spideog mumbled in his sleep at first but then like the rest of us settled down
until awakened by a damp dawn. Brendan shook me awake from what was becoming a recurring dream of Essa holding hands with an invisible man. What did that dream mean? Was the invisible man supposed to be me?
The fog was so bad that dawn was almost unnoticeable; the view seemed as if we were looking at a white sheet. It was damp cold and the squelching noise my trousers made as I got up cemented my misery.
Spideog was up and on his feet. He walked like a man in a trance. Without a word he began to break camp so we followed suit and then trekked after him down the mountain.
‘Has he said anything?’ I whispered to Brendan.
‘Not a word,’ he replied behind his hand. ‘He just got up and got going. Are you going to say anything to him?’
‘I’m not going to talk to him – you talk to him.’
‘I’m not talking to him.’
We both looked to Araf.
‘I don’t say anything to anybody,’ the Imp mumbled. ‘I am not starting now.’
We followed the silent archer down the mountain. For a guy who had just been pulverised by an evil warlock he set a pretty crisp pace.
You would think that going downhill would be easer than uphill and you would be right, but not by as much as you would think. My calf muscles screamed with the effort it took to stop me from becoming a runaway teen.
It was nightfall by the time we reached the base of the mountain. I suggested to Spideog that he should get some rest, but he looked at me like I had just stomped on his puppy and disappeared into the forest. By the time he had returned with wood and a rabbit, Araf had the beginnings of a fire going. Brendan and I put up a very flimsy lean-to to keep off the rain. Together we ate in silence, none of us daring to speak for fear of being killed by the archer’s evil eye. When he finished eating and started to set up a bedroll I bravely said, ‘Thank you, Spideog, the meal was lovely.’
He didn’t even acknowledge my presence.
Brendan, Araf and I sat around the fire staring at each other for a while. Each waited for the other to speak but none of us wanted to break the vow of silence that the old man seemed to have imposed on the group. We bedded down. Ah, there is nothing like sliding between two wet blankets, in your wet clothes, as the rain leaks onto your head.
