by John Lenahan
Dawn, as it always does, came too early. I find that going to sleep under the stars is lovely but waking up outside is a drag. It leaves me itchy, damp and with terminal bed hair. It wasn’t until I stood that I realised my shoes were missing. Well, that explained the theme of my dream. I walked over to the still-sleeping Fergal and lightly kicked him with my bare foot. He shot straight up.
‘What?’ he sputtered.
‘Ha ha, Fergal, very funny. What did you do with my shoes?’
‘What are you talking about?’ he said, getting his bearings.
‘My shoes, I don’t know how you did it without waking me up but I want my shoes back.’
‘I don’t have your shoes,’ he said, confused.
‘Quit mucking around, Fergal, I had them on when I went to sleep.’
‘I’m telling you I don’t have your…uh-oh.’ Fergal jerked his hand a couple of times and then pulled his tunic over his head. ‘Damn it,’ he said, ‘damn it, damn it, damn it!’
‘What? What is it?’
‘My Banshee blade is gone–and the wire too.’
‘What do you mean gone?’
‘Robbed, we were robbed last night.’
Oh, just great, I thought, now I’m going to have to walk in this godforsaken land barefoot. Then I had a terrible thought. Slowly I reached down to my waist and felt for my scabbard–the Sword of Duir was gone.
Chapter Seven
Brownies
‘They took my sword. Oh my God, my father is going to kill–L me.’
Fergal went over to the alder and placed his hand on the bark, then kicked it. A rain of branches showered down that made us run out from under its cover.
‘Fergal, what the hell is going on?’
‘We got rumbled by the alder last night.’
‘Are you telling me the tree mugged us?’
‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘Then who could take my shoes and your wire from under your shirt without waking us up?’
‘Brownies, damn them.’
‘Whos-ies?
‘Brownies–who else?’
‘You mean like girl scouts?’
‘Why do you think they were girls?’ Fergal said, confused.
‘Never mind. I have to get that sword back. It is very important.’
‘Well, that’s not going to be easy. Brownies weigh nothing and are famously difficult to track.’
We looked around at the dew-covered grass and then at each other. We were both wearing the same ear-to-ear grin. You see, Brownies are usually difficult to track–except when one of them is wearing Nikes.
Whoever stole my shoes must have had tiny feet because he dragged them along the ground, trying to keep my size elevens from falling off. The tracks led into the stream but were easy to pick up on the other side. Fergal dashed under the tree and grabbed a couple of branches that we could use as weapons. He shouted a sarcastic, ‘Thanks,’ as the alder tried to rain more wood down on him.
We followed the trail across some wide, open fields that led to rolling hills. The trees were thin and the ground pretty spongy but periodically my bare feet made contact with a rock or a twig that made me yelp. I wasn’t sure how long I would be able to keep up this pace, but saying that, I felt a lot better than I did yesterday.
Every time I wanted to ask Fergal if we could rest, I remembered the Sword of Duir–I had to get it back. I had a vision of meeting up with Dad and him saying, ‘Let me get this straight, I give you a sword that has been in our family for thousands of years and you lose it–in a day!’ I really wanted to avoid that conversation. After about an hour of jogging we rounded a small hill. I lost the trail but Fergal laid his head on the ground and pointed to a small cliff face about a quarter-mile to our right.
‘If we are lucky, they are camping in those rocks,’ Fergal said.
‘What makes you think they made camp?’
‘Look, my Nanny Breithe always got mad at me when I talked badly about any race but the truth of it is, Brownies are cocky and stupid. They think they are so stealthy that they are untrackable, but look at these idiots. Not one of them bothered to look behind them to check if they were leaving a trail. My guess is that they were up all night watching us, so I’m hoping they are camping in those rocks.’
‘And if you’re wrong?’
‘Then you’re going to have to buy a new pair of those fancy shoes of yours. Where did you get them anyway?’
‘Scranton,’ I said without thinking.
‘Scranton? Never heard of it.’
‘Yeah.’ I laughed. ‘A lot of people say that.’
The way was a bit harder here and Fergal shushed me every time a pebble underfoot made me bark. When we reached the foot of the knoll Fergal and I took a minute to rub the small stems and leaves off the branches we were carrying so as to fashion them into staffs. They weren’t the best weapons in the world but they would have to do.
Climbing the rocks would have been a cinch if I’d had anything on my feet, but barefoot it was flipping difficult. What was harder than the actual climbing was trying not to curse every time I stepped on some jagged edge. My poor tootsies were taking a beating. If I got through this without getting stabbed by my own sword, I was going to throttle whoever took my Nikes. Fergal reached the summit before me. He peeped over and instantly ducked down, placing his index finger over his lips and indicating that our light-fingered quarry was just over the rise. I pressed up next to him.
‘There’s only two of them,’ he whispered. ‘We need a plan.’
‘Have you ever done this before?’
‘Done what?’
‘Attacked two armed men with sticks?’
‘No, but I’m looking forward to it.’ He smiled.
His smile was so infectious I said, ‘OK, what’s the plan?’
‘One of us should circle around behind them, and when he is in position the other one makes a frontal attack from here. The one of us that comes from the rear should be able to take them out before the one who attacks from here gets sliced up too much.’
‘As much as I don’t fancy the idea of getting “sliced up too much,” you have to go around the back–my feet are killing me.’
‘OK, take a quick look and you’ll see the gap in the back. I’ll be coming from there.’
I was nervous until I stuck my nose over the ledge. They looked like a couple of teenage street urchins. They had black matted hair and wore tight dark green clothes stretched over bodies so skinny they would have made a supermodel look chunky. Between them was a campfire that had a dome of gold wire over it. The smoke rising from the fire seemed to disappear when it hit the wire. The two swords and Fergal’s pack were lying behind them on the ground. When the larger guy got up to tend the fire I saw that the smaller one had my shoes on the ground between his legs. He had removed the laces from one of them and then to my horror I realised he was about to cut the tongue out of the sneaker. That’s when I kind of forgot where I was. I stood up and yelled, ‘Hey!’ vaulted over the ledge and slid down to two very surprised Brownies.
‘What is the matter with you?’ I shouted.
The little guy just froze. The bigger one grabbed the Sword of Duir and pointed it at me. What confused him was that I just ignored him. I walked over to the little guy and grabbed the shoe–I was mad.
‘What’s the matter with you? If you are going to steal my Nikes the least you could do is give them a little respect. What the hell are you cutting them for?’
The bigger guy poked me in the back with my sword. I turned to him and said, ‘I’ll deal with you in a second.’ I looked around–Fergal was nowhere to be seen.
I turned back to junior. ‘I’m talking to you. Why the hell were you cutting up my sneakers?’ He seemed too terrified to speak. I towered over him. ‘Well?’
‘My, my feet got sweaty in them,’ he stammered.
‘Oh, so after sweating in my shoes you decided to cut them up.’ I think I would have slapped him if the big guy h
adn’t just then given me a good jab in the ribs that demanded my attention.
‘If you take one more step towards my brother,’ the bigger one said, ‘I’m going to run you through.’
I turned. He had striking pale blue eyes that, unlike his brother, had no fear in them. He was holding my sword to my chest but I remained calm.
‘That is my sword,’ I pointed out, ‘and in about three seconds I’m going to take it back.’
‘And how are you going to do that?’ His voice betrayed a tiny loss of confidence.
‘I’m going to pick it off the ground after my friend Fergal clocks you in the head with a tree branch.’
He went down like a house of cards. I quickly turned to little brother, who was still frozen like a rabbit in headlights. I picked up my sword and pointed to the soles of my feet.
‘Look at my tootsies! Do you see how dirty they are? I should make you lick them clean.’
I took a step towards him and he started to shake. I instantly felt sorry for him–this kid was way out of his league. I crouched down.
‘Hey, little guy, relax, we’re not going to hurt you.’ I turned to Fergal. ‘We’re not going to hurt them–right?’
‘Well, I’m not going to hurt anybody,’ Fergal said as he began to tie up big brother, ‘but you seem a bit worked up about your footwear.’
‘Well, I like these shoes.’
‘I’ve noticed.’
I turned back to the boy. ‘OK, it’s decided, no one is going to hurt you. What’s your name?’
‘My brother said I’m not supposed to tell you my name even if you torture me.’
‘Wow, you guys are a real bunch of desperados. Mind if I call you Jesse?’
‘I, I guess.’
Fergal finished hogtying the brother and came over.
‘Fergal, meet Jesse.’
Fergal leaned over the boy. ‘What kind of a name is Jesse?’
I tapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘I made it up but I think he likes it–just go with it.’
‘OK, hi, Jesse. What are you two doing so far from the Fearnlands?’
‘My brother said there would be easy pickings out here but we haven’t seen anybody for ages. I wanted to go home–only he made me keep going. He said Father would let him take his scrúdú early if we came back with quality acquisitions. I, I didn’t mean to hurt your shoes, honest. What are you going to do to us?’
‘ scrúdú?’
‘It’s the manhood test,’ he said, then the poor kid turned ghastly white. ‘Oh gods, I shouldn’t have told you that.’
So that was it–a story as old as time, big brother with delusions of manhood, roped little bro into doing something incredibly stupid.
I picked up a canteen from the ground, walked over to big bro and poured some water on his head. He spluttered awake and tried to get up. When he realised he was hogtied he looked at Fergal and me. His bravado from earlier had vanished.
‘Good morning, Frank,’ I said.
‘What is Frank?’ he said.
‘You are. Since your little brother over there has informed me that we won’t know your real names until after we torture you, I decided to call you Frank and him Jesse until then.’
‘My name is Demne and my brother is Codna.’
I turned to Jesse/Codna, who now had his mouth wide open in amazement. ‘Well, Jesse, it looks like your brother isn’t much for torture.’
I turned back to the big bro. ‘You know, Demne, I like Frank better. You don’t mind if I call you Frank, do you?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Good. OK, Frank, here’s what we are going to do. First, we are going to take our acquisitions back. You don’t have any problems with that, do you, Frank?’
‘No, sir.’
‘You know, I really am starting to like your attitude, Frank. Next I’m going to borrow your shoes and let you have the opportunity, like I had, to climb barefoot over those rocks.’ I crouched down and took Frank’s sandals off his feet, picked up Jesse’s from the ground and threw them over the stone ridge as far as I could. ‘We are going to leave you now, but before we do, you are going to promise me that the next time you have a harebrained idea, you are not going to drag your brother into it. Right?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Fergal, do you have anything to add?’
Fergal had reattached his Banshee blade and was now examining the gold wire dome he had taken from its position over the fire. Smoke was now floating freely in the air. ‘Now that you mention it, Conor, I was thinking of taking this interesting thing as payment for our troubles.’
Frank tried to stand when Fergal said this, and fell on his side. ‘Please don’t take our father’s smokescreen. He’ll kill us if we lose it.’
I grabbed Frank by the arm and pulled him back up into a sitting position. ‘So let me guess, Dad doesn’t know you took it?’
He shook his head–a pathetic no. I took the smokescreen from Fergal and placed it on Frank’s head like a skullcap.
‘Jesse, can I give you a little piece of information that will help you for the rest of your life?’
Jesse just stared at me and then slowly nodded yes.
‘Your big brother is an idiot.’
He nodded to me again.
As we walked to the rim of the knoll Fergal said, ‘I would really have liked that smokescreen.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but I know what it’s like to get in trouble with your dad and I didn’t have the heart to do that to them.’
I gave them one last look before I climbed back down. Jesse was still sitting stock still.
I called to him. ‘Jesse, you can untie your brother any time you want but if I were you I would make him suffer for a little while longer.’
He looked up to me and then gave me the tiniest of smiles and then waved.
‘Behave, you two,’ I shouted as I jumped down the rock face.
Our encounter with the outlaws had put us behind schedule for the party. Fergal set a jogging pace that made me wish I had tortured those two a little bit.
‘So I said we need a plan,’ Fergal said to me as he ran alongside, ‘and you said “OK”. Do you remember that?’
‘I do.’
‘And then we made a plan. Do you remember that too?’
I nodded, conserving my breath.
‘Good, now here is the point I’m getting to. I don’t know how they do things in Skwinton.’
‘Scranton,’ I corrected.
‘OK, Scranton, but where I come from, after you make a plan you don’t just up and jump over a wall screaming.’
‘Well, it worked, didn’t it?’
‘Yes, Conor, but remember, some of us don’t have a priceless snap spell to come to our rescue.’
I almost told him that my mom’s protection spell didn’t have anything to do with it, since it works solely on relatives and only once, but then I thought, He doesn’t need to know all that and I’m a bit out of breath anyway, so all I said was, ‘Yeah, sorry.’
‘Do not worry about it,’ he said, slapping me on the back, almost precipitating a full-speed jogging wreck–somehow I kept my footing.
Fergal seemed to think that running at this pace for a couple of hours was an OK thing to do. It wasn’t easy but amazingly I kept up. Usually any sport more strenuous than bowling pushes me over the edge. Maybe those annoying callisthenics that Dad used to make me do before and after sword fighting lessons were paying off. After a while I started to enjoy it. I got a glimpse of the high that joggers say they get from running. I took in the magnificent scenery as my body set a cadence that echoed in my brain. I think I was about to slip into a perfect Zen-like state when Fergal slapped me on the back again and snapped me out of it.
‘Hey, you hungry? There’s an apple tree over there.’
Hungry? Now that I thought about it, I was starving! I saw the tree and ran straight towards it. The apples looked even better than the one that my mother had given me. I know I go on and on
about the trees in The Land, but I can’t emphasise enough how magnificent they are. Never in my life had I ever seen a fruit tree so bountiful. Directly above my head was an apple bigger than my fist. I stared at it for a moment and marvelled at how my face reflected in its mirror-like red skin. I bent my knees and jumped to grab it.
That’s when the bus hit me.
Chapter Eight
Araf
OK, it wasn’t a bus, but it sure felt like one. One moment I was in mid-jump with an apple in my hand, the next moment I was hit–hard in the shoulder and went flying ass over teacups through the air. Luckily I landed in a pile of thick barley that was pretty soft.
Fergal was at my side in a second. ‘Are you mad?’
‘Did you get the licence number of that truck?’ I groaned.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Give me a second to check my bones to see which of them aren’t broken.’
‘For the gods’ sake, haven’t you ever picked an apple before? Wait here and I’ll talk to her.’
‘Talk to who?’
I sat up and found that I was a considerable distance from where I had been moments before. Fergal slowly approached the apple tree and placed his hands on the trunk. He mumbled a few things, pointed to me and then jogged back.
‘She said she won’t hit you again. She wants to talk to you. If I was you I’d start with an apology.’
The tree hit me? The tree hit me! Of course it did. If I had to thank a willow tree for its shade, I must certainly have had to ask permission before picking an apple. I just wished I could learn something in this place without it being so painful.
I stood up. I wasn’t hurt as bad as I should have been. The blow was so unexpected that I didn’t have time to tense up. Still, I had one hell of a dead arm. I walked warily towards the tree. I had spent a lifetime with trees. I always knew they were living things but I never really treated them like they were living in the same world as me. Again, The Land was forcing me to re-examine my perceptions. I placed my hand on the trunk.
A conversation with a tree is not like communicating with anyone or anything else. It’s not a dialogue, it’s more of a meeting of the minds. Even though I spoke out loud it was not necessary–words are not the medium of communication.
