Shadowmagic

by John Lenahan

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Take a closer look.’

  I had stuck it into the ground in almost the exact place where Essa had found the roots of the Tree of Knowledge. I drew closer and had a good look. Three green shoots with tender leaves had sprouted from the sides of my stick. My grandfather’s hazel staff had taken root.

  ‘It looks as if a hazel will once again bloom in the Hall,’ Lorcan said behind me. ‘A new Tree of Knowledge perhaps?’

  I touched it. It was too young to speak, but I could feel the life in it.

  Lorcan placed his hand on my shoulder. ‘This is a good omen. Good luck, son of hazel and oak. When we next meet, it shall be in your father’s house.’

  ‘I’ll buy you a beer.’

  He smiled and left me alone with the young hazel. ‘This is for you,’ I said aloud to a grandfather I had never known.

  It was strange being on horseback without Acorn beneath me. Lorcan had lent me a mare named Cloud. She was smaller than Acorn and lived up to her name by giving a softer ride, but I refused to get too friendly. It felt like I was having an affair with another horse.

  I was relieved to find that our route wouldn’t be taking us through the Yewlands–I didn’t want to go through that again. Apparently, the only reason we went that way the first time was to make sure no one was following us. I can understand that. There is no way I would take a walk among the yews again, unless my life depended on it. Even then I would have to think about it.

  There were nineteen of us in our party. On horseback were: Mom, Dad, Nieve, Essa, Fergal, Araf, me and ten Leprechaun goldsmiths. Gerard and Dahy rode in the front of a wagon pulled by a pair of magnificent workhorses. I thought the horses I had seen here before were big, but these things were colossal! They might as well have been elephants for the size of them. Gerard’s wagon was packed with about three dozen massive barrels of wine, but they pulled them as if they were hauling feather pillows.

  We kept a leisurely pace. We wanted to arrive at the castle only half a day before Lorcan’s army, so we didn’t have to press too hard. Nieve and Deirdre spent the first day gabbing on horseback like long-lost sisters. Essa and Fergal were both in introspective moods. I understood it with Fergal but I couldn’t figure out what was bothering Essa. The Leprechauns were a bit in awe of us, so they pretty much kept to themselves. I rode abreast with Araf—and you know how chatty he is. Actually, I wasn’t in the chattiest of moods myself. I know this sounds crazy (after all I had been through), but for the first time since I had been here–I was nervous. When I first heard Ona’s prophecy, I wondered–How could I possibly destroy the whole land?–but now it occurred to me, that that might be exactly what I was doing. Cialtie had a weapon that could trash everything, and we were on our way to provoke him. Maybe I was playing right into destiny’s hand.

  That night around the fire, I put that point to Dad.

  ‘I remember when I was working at the university’ Dad said, ‘I used to laugh at the science professors who were so sure that everything could be explained. They were all buffoons except for one of them. His name was Tobias, he was Italian.’

  ‘I remember him. He taught physics, didn’t he?’

  ‘That’s right. Even though his entire life was dedicated to provable facts, he believed in the Evil Eye.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The Evil Eye–some Italians think that a person with special power can harm you with just a look. Tobias even wore a gold necklace to protect him from it.’

  ‘That sounds like one of Mom’s amulets.’

  ‘Exactly. I asked him once how a man of science could be so superstitious and he told me about quantum physics. Apparently there are things going on in the tiniest of matter that just cannot be explained. He told me about an experiment where a scientist made an atom spin in some laboratory and it made another one spin in the opposite direction ten miles away. He couldn’t explain it–no one could. He said if the smartest people in the world can’t explain something like that–then he was keeping the necklace on. I liked him, he had an open mind.

  ‘One day, he explained the Chaos Theory to me by holding up a piece of paper. He asked, “What would happen if I let go?” I told him that the paper would flutter to the ground, but then he asked me–“Where will it hit the ground?” He let the paper go and it landed not far from his feet. He said he could explain mathematically how the air and gravity reacted with the paper and why the paper landed where it did—“but,” he said, “no one could ever predict where the paper would land before it was dropped.”

  ‘That is the essence of the Chaos Theory. We know things will happen but until they do, we cannot tell how they will happen. I am sure Ona was right–she always was–but we don’t know the how, or the when. Just because we have a glimpse of the future does not mean we should run and hide. We must do what must be done. Cialtie must be stopped and I must get my hand and fix the damage my brother has done.’

  I looked at the man I had spent my entire life with, and realised just how much I had underestimated him. I remembered a Mark Twain quote: he said something like–‘I left my family at fifteen because my parents were so stupid. When I arrived back home two years later, I was amazed how much they had learned in that time!’

  ‘I haven’t said it in a long time, Dad, but I love you.’

  ‘And I you, son.’ He kissed me on the cheek. ‘Get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow.’

  We spent the next day riding fields dotted with poplar trees–the Eadthlands. I think the poplars are my favourite trees in The Land. They are solitary, straight and unimaginably high, like huge green rocket ships. I leaned back to try to see the top of one as we rode by and almost fell out of my saddle. I wanted to stop and speak to one of them but Mom said they are not very good conversationalists–their thoughts are too much in the clouds. Apparently the Fili used to converse with them about philosophy, but only if they would climb to the top. If I was to climb that high, the tree had better say something pretty important. I would be angry if I risked life and limb to get to the summit and the only thing the poplar said was, ‘I can see your house from here.’

  The other nice thing about the Eadthlands is that the trees are so far apart. It gives you a chance to notice all of the other plants and animals that populate The Land. Rabbits the size of puppies came out of their burrows to watch us go past. I saw a fox with a coat so red and lush I wanted to hug it. The wildflowers were in full bloom. Fields were covered with colours that you just don’t get in the Real World. There were reds, yellows and purples the like of which I had only ever seen in a tropical fish tank, and then colours I didn’t even have a name for.

  Essa rode up beside me and said, ‘Stop it.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Stop looking at The Land like you are never going to see it again.’

  ‘That’s not what I am doing,’ I protested, but she had fallen back already. The thing is, she was right–that is exactly what I was doing. I think everyone was. Even Gerard was quiet. To give you an idea of how nervous we all were, Araf came abreast of me and started a conversation without me even saying anything to him!

  ‘I went to Castle Duir with my father once, when I was a boy,’ he said without prompting. I almost fell out of my saddle with shock. ‘I remember sneaking off and exploring the castle and getting terribly lost. I ended up in the library. I had never seen so many books before, but being a child, what interested me the most were the weapons. There was a beautiful oak banta stick on the wall. I was climbing on a desk to have a closer look at it when Lord Finn–your grandfather–came in. I must have startled him–he shouted, “What are you doing here?” I was terrified and ran out of the room. He gave chase and caught me at the end of the corridor. I kicked and screamed as he picked me up by my shoulders and held me at arm’s length. Then he laughed, that wonderful laugh that your family seems to own, and he gave me a smile–now that I think of it, it was a smile just like the one Fergal has.

>   ‘I stopped kicking and Finn said, “You must be young Prince Araf.” I only managed a nod. Then he said, “Come with me. I want to show you something.” I followed your grandfather down, deep into the castle until we came to a chamber lit with a hundred candles. He told me that the Leprechauns make the candles with wax mixed with gold dust and that they burn for years. Did you know that?’

  ‘No,’ I said, smiling. This was an introspective and loquacious Araf that I had never seen before. I liked it.

  ‘I will never forget what he told me. He said, “This is the Chamber of Runes; some day you will undergo the Rite of Choosing here. I suspect, my young Imp, that you will eventually choose the Major Rune of Ur. When you do, you will be a Runelord. Most people think us lucky to become Runelords and they are right–but it is also a responsibility. We do not choose the runes–the runes choose us. To hold a Major Rune means that you give up part of your life to The Land, or even all of your life if The Land demands it.”

  ‘When I left, Finn gave me that oak banta stick. It’s in my room in Ur Keep. I wish I had it with me now.’

  ‘It will still be there when you return home,’ I said.

  ‘I hope so, Conor, but if we fail, and tomorrow we are no more, then at least I know I have done my duty.’

  Believe it or not, Araf chattered on for the rest of the day. He talked about his home, banta fighting and the joys of farming. It worked for both of us–Araf talked and talked to allay his nerves, and I concentrated on what he was saying and didn’t have time to think about my possible impending doom.

  I spoke to Fergal only once in the day. When I pulled up next to him he said, ‘If you ask me how I am, I’m going to punch you.’

  ‘How are you?’

  He did punch me, on the arm. It made me sad that Fergal and I had just met. We should have grown up together. His punch was like a punch between brothers, not hard enough to do any damage but hard enough that it hurt.

  I rubbed my arm and laughed. ‘Any time you want to talk, cuz, I’m right here.’

  Long before dark, Dad called a halt and made an announcement. ‘This is as close to the castle I want to get in daylight. We will leave well before dawn tomorrow. Tonight we can camp at Glen Duir.’

  Glen Duir was at the beginning of the Oaklands, and a more picturesque spot is hard to imagine. We camped near a stream nestled in rolling hills. I was helping set up camp when my father tapped me on the shoulder. ‘There is a tree I want you to meet,’ he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mother Oak

  Dad mentioned Mother Oak once when I was a boy. He caught me carving my name in a tree and was furious. He took my knife from me and said, ‘If you had done that to Mother Oak you would be dead now. I would have killed you myself.’ It sounded like he meant it too. He was so mad I didn’t have the nerve to ask him what he was talking about. Now I know.

  We walked upstream for about ten minutes. The way my father said, Mother Oak, I was expecting something magnificent. When he stopped at an unremarkable tree and beamed, ‘Here she is,’ I was a bit disappointed. Mother Oak was pretty much a normal-looking tree. I’m sure I have seen bigger oaks in parks at home. The difference came when you touched her.

  Dad went first. He wrapped his arms around her trunk like some hippy tree hugger. I swear the tree hugged him back. A huge canopy of branches covered him over to the point where I couldn’t see him any more. When the leaves retreated, he had a goofy look on his face, like a kid who just got offered an ice-cream cone. ‘Say hello to Mother Oak,’ he said.

  I placed my hands on the knurled bark and it hit me like a wave. A feeling of goodness and love swept over me, and into me, and through me, the likes of which I had never known. I am sure I was wearing the same stupid grin that I saw on Dad’s face a moment ago.

  ‘Oh my, my, my,’ came a voice in my head that was as gentle as it was obviously wise. It felt as if I had instantly found the grandmother that I had never known. I hugged her in earnest as she swept her leafy arms over me. Tears involuntarily poured from my eyes. ‘There, there,’ she said soothingly, ‘oh my, you have had a difficult time lately, haven’t you, my child?’

  I had, I realised. In the last week, my life had been turned completely upside-down and I had dealt with it by being brave, but now, in the face of such compassion, all of the fears and the weariness that I had been hiding in every bone, came to the surface. My knees buckled and I wept openly.

  I was in such a state I didn’t realise what was happening. She caught me and carried me up into her branches and held me like a child that won’t go to sleep. I finally got a grip on myself and noticed I was about ten feet off the ground and let loose a little shriek.

  Mother Oak laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I have you, I won’t let you fall. Now let me get a look at you. Climb up a little higher.’

  I hadn’t climbed a tree in years and realised then just how much I wanted to. Mother Oak placed branches in my path for me to grab, and boosted my footholds.

  ‘Oh, my dear, I think that is far enough.’

  A tangle of branches congealed behind me and I sat in them. I felt like a newborn baby being admired at arm’s length.

  ‘Oh yes, you definitely are Oisin’s seed. There is so much oak in you but also something else–let me guess–hazel. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said out loud. I still hadn’t gotten used to talking to trees without speaking.

  She seemed tickled that I called her ma’am. I felt her smile. ‘ Oak and hazel,’ she mused. ‘Strength and suppleness, brawn and brain–what a good combination, no wonder Oisin is so proud.’

  I had a question on my mind since I first touched her and I finally found my voice. ‘Are you the first tree?’

  ‘Oh my, what a question. I can’t remember that far back, I’m an old woman, you know. I have been here a long time. I imagine all of your fathers and most of your mothers have climbed in my branches. I know I have watched over the children of Duir since the beginning. But am I the oldest? Who can tell?’ She chuckled to herself. ‘I feel like the oldest sometimes. Picking up a big strapping boy like you was harder than it used to be.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It is a pleasure to meet you, young Conor. I don’t like to say it, but not all in your family have such a good heart. It pleases me down to my roots to meet a child of oak as fine as you.’

  I stood up and hugged her–I couldn’t help myself.

  ‘Will you come and visit me again?’

  ‘If I can,’ I said, thinking about the dangers that lay ahead.

  ‘Oh, my poor dear, your trials are not over, are they?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do not you worry. Remember you are oak and hazel, you will know when to be strong and when to bend.’

  Then she hugged me, a hug of wood and leaves that was softer than any I have ever had from flesh and blood. ‘Will you be alright climbing down by yourself I have had enough bending for a day. I’m an old woman, you know.’

  Dad was asleep when I reached the ground. When I woke him he looked at me and said, ‘Well?’

  I couldn’t even begin to put my feelings into words, so I just said, ‘That’s a heck of a tree.’

  Dad roared with laughter at that. ‘That she is, son. That she is.’

  On the way back to camp several of our horses galloped past us. ‘Where are they going?’ I asked.

  ‘Deirdre is sending them home, we don’t need them any more.’

  Back at the camp Mom was whispering in Cloud’s ear. She finished and Cloud galloped off. ‘You can talk to horses?’ I said, amazed.

  She started to answer and then remembered she had a small gold disc on her tongue. She took it out and said, ‘One of my tutors was a Pooka.’ Then that little shadow of sadness passed in front of her face for a second. The same look she always gets when she is remembering her youth at the Hall of Knowledge.

  ‘You know, Mom,’ I said and then paused–I didn’t know how to continue
. I wanted to tell her how glad I was to have found her and how wonderful and brave and beautiful I thought she was. I wanted to tell her that I loved her. ‘I just…’

  ‘I know, son, me too,’ she said and then held me. She was right, we didn’t have to speak.

  Dahy whipped up a roast rabbit dinner. He only cooked about five of them but they were so big they fed us all. We ate pretty much in silence. After dinner, Dad announced that he and Dahy would finalise the plan tonight. He told us to get some sleep and he would fill us in at breakfast. At the mention of sleep I instantly realised just how tired I was. Two days of riding and the outpouring of emotion with Mother Oak had drained me so much, I hardly had the strength to unfurl my blanket.

  At about the same time I put my head down, Fergal came over. He sat next to me, cross-legged. He looked like he wanted to talk but he didn’t say anything.

  ‘How you doing?’ I said, hoping he wouldn’t hit me.

  He gave me a weak smile. ‘Conor, I want to tell you something.’

  I let loose a big sigh and said, ‘Fergal, I don’t think I can take another emotional scene today. I already had one with my mother and my father and even one with a tree. Look, cousin. I’m glad I met you and I love you too, but we are not going to die tomorrow. Why don’t you get some sleep?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right, Conor. Good night,’ he said and left.

  As soon as my head hit the ground I remembered what I had said to him earlier, about always being there, if he wanted to talk. Damn, I can be a jerk sometimes. There was no way I could just go to sleep now, so I dragged myself off the ground and went looking for him. I couldn’t find him. He told someone in the camp that he was going for a walk. There was no way I was going to find him in the dark, so I went back to my blanket. When I got there Essa was lying on it.

  ‘I think you will find that that is my blanket,’ I said.

  ‘I know,’ she said, ‘lie with me.’

  ‘Essa,’ I said in a whisper, ‘your father is just over there.’