by John Lenahan
Then I felt the needle leave my neck. Nieve whispered in my ear, ‘Don’t move.’ I felt the sensation returning to my body. It took all of my will not to stretch at the relief but I pretended to stay frozen. Nieve turned back around and I spun with her, Dahy’s knife still at my throat.
‘They will take ages getting out of there,’ Cialtie sighed. ‘Oh, what a shame, all of that effort and I’m just going to have to cut it off again. I wonder if I can convince Deirdre to preserve it a second time before I kill her.’
‘You said you weren’t going to kill anybody,’ Fergal said.
‘Oh my, my,’ Cialtie said. ‘Fergal, was it? You are as gullible as your mother. She actually thought I was going to make her a queen. Can you imagine–a Banshee queen? You know, I was shocked when I learned that you survived after I lopped her head off, but now that I know you, I’m astonished you have had the wits to live this long.’
There it was–the truth. It was awful watching Fergal learn it the first time–this time it nearly killed me. The realisation of it hit him in waves, like a baby standing hip-deep in the ocean. I could almost read his mind: first came the pain of reliving his mother’s murder, next came the shame of being so easily duped, and then came the horror at the realisation that he had betrayed his friends. He wasn’t broken, it was more like he was shattered.
Cialtie pushed him and he crashed into me. ‘I think you should stand over there with your friends.’
Fergal crumpled to the floor. He hugged my legs and made a noise that I had never heard from a person before, and never wanted to hear again. Tears poured out of his clenched eyelids, and his mouth hung open, saliva spilling out of it. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whimpered. ‘I’m so sorry’
‘Pathetic,’ Cialtie said.
Never in my life had I wanted so badly to do two things at once. I wanted to put my arms around my poor cousin and tell him it was OK, and at the same time I wanted to tear Cialtie limb from limb–with my bare hands. I didn’t do either. I don’t know how I did it, but I stood perfectly still. Cialtie thought I couldn’t move. It was the only advantage that we had.
‘You know, I suspected you were here, even before my sprog showed up and spilled the beans,’ Cialtie said. ‘You know what gave you away? It was that rinky-dink army. I’ve seen bigger circuses. I thought to myself, What could that tiny gaggle of stumpy people do, other than disturb my sleep? And then I realised it must be a diversion. Oh well, I’m glad they are here. I’ll enjoy seeing them all dead.’
As if I hadn’t had enough shocks for a day, Cialtie reached into his pocket and removed a crystal vial that was filled with gold. It wasn’t the vial that shocked me, it was what was attached to the top of it–a red button. It was the only Real World-looking thing that I had ever seen in The Land, other than my clothes. I almost craned my neck to get a better look, but I managed to remain perfectly still.
‘Ah, nephew, I see you recognise this. I wondered if you would. I had a dream a little while back, it was a good one. You had it too, didn’t you? I thought you must have, because in it was the strangest little device that was completely foreign to me. I liked it so much, I had my goldsmiths whip one up. Now all I have to do is push this little red thing and that pesky army will pester me no more.’
‘Cialtie,’ Nieve said, ‘don’t do it, you will destroy everything.’
‘Oh, sister, I’m disappointed in you. I thought you clever in the ways of magic. I won’t destroy everything- we will be fine. All of the rest of The Land will be wiped clean, but I never really liked them anyway. Everyone and everything I need is right here inside my Golden Circle. Trust me, The Land will be a better place when I rebuild it in my own image.’
He had his thumb on the button. I didn’t know what to do. Even if I surprised him, by being able to move, he was still too far away. I wouldn’t be able to stop him from pressing it.
‘I’m waiting,’ Cialtie said. ‘Is this not someone’s cue to tell me I’m mad?’ He looked around. ‘Disappointing.’
That’s when Araf burst into the room and all hell broke loose.
Chapter Thirty
A Time to Bend
Araf didn’t know what was going on. He instinctively went for one of the armed guards first, not my uncle. Cialtie had time to press the button–and he did. The entire chamber lurched to the sound of a huge explosion. Burning candles toppled all over the place and everyone lost their footing.
It worked! Not from Cialtie’s point of view, but from ours. The explosion meant that the Leprechaun goldsmiths had done their jobs. Mom had explained to me, that if the Golden Circle went off the way Cialtie wanted it to, we wouldn’t hear anything in the castle–but if the Leprechaun goldsmiths succeeded in crafting spikes in a section of the Golden Circle, the explosion would blow out the whole east wall of the castle. It did, and that’s what Lorcan’s army was waiting for.
All of the guards let loose their crossbow bolts. Two of them were way off the mark, one from a soldier that fell down from the explosion, the other from the guy that Araf had just clocked with his banta stick. Two bolts unfortunately were right on the mark. One came directly at Essa’s chest. With skill that must have made Araf and Dahy proud, she actually deflected the bolt with her banta stick–then she performed one of her head-over-heel manoeuvres. That was the last thing her attacker saw.
The other bolt flew straight at my chin. I think The Land has given me two special gifts: one is dreams and the other is the way time seems to slow down in a crisis. I actually saw the bolt spring off the bowstring. I had time to remember what Mother Oak had said to me, ‘You are oak and hazel, you will know when to be strong and when to bend.!’ It was time to bend. With flexibility that a Russian gymnast couldn’t duplicate, I arched my back and watched the bolt sail past my face. Nieve wasn’t so lucky. It got her in the shoulder, but not before she could flick my knife at the archer. Her throw was wide of the mark but due to the extraordinary properties of Dahy’s golden tip, it honed back on its target like a guided missile. The heartbeat it took for all this to happen was the guard’s last. I didn’t stop bending, I went right over like an upside-down U. How I stayed on my feet, I will never know. I kept going until I planted my hand on the stone tabletop–right next to the Sword of Duir. In that upside-down world I grabbed the Lawnmower and reversed the process.
When I straightened up, I saw a scene that has haunted my thoughts ever since. Fergal was on his feet. His face was contorted with rage and he was charging Cialtie. As he stepped forward, he cocked his wrist in the gesture that I recognised as the sequence that released his Banshee blade, but the sword wasn’t in his sleeve–it was on his belt. He never did get to replace the gold wire.
Cialtie recognised the gesture, too–because he had a Banshee blade of his own. He mirrored Fergal’s wrist movements, with the difference that when he did it, a shiny silver sword appeared in his hand.
I screamed, ‘No!’ and flew at the sword in hopes of deflecting it. I was too late. My slow-motion gift became a curse. I saw the tip of the blade touch Fergal’s chest, I saw the threads on the fabric of his shirt part and break, I saw every single millimetre of that cursed weapon enter my cousin’s chest and not stop until it reached his heart. My swing was late, Cialtie was too fast. My blade came down a foot behind where I needed it to be. I sliced into Cialtie’s right wrist and took his hand clean off. He screamed in pain as blood shot around the room.
Fergal looked down in shock. What he saw was Cialtie’s sword sticking out of his chest with his father’s hand still wrapped around the pommel. Then he did that most Fergalish thing–he laughed. He pointed to the handle of the sword and said, ‘Will you look at that.’ He wore a typical Fergal, ear-to-ear grin on his face, as he fell over backwards. Just then Dad burst through the First Muirbhrúcht.
With a force of will that was unprecedented, Dad had pushed back through the three barriers in record time. He came out roaring and, as if he had never missed it, he drew his sword with his right hand and flew at
his brother. Dad didn’t even see what happened next, but I did. Cialtie saw him coming. With his remaining hand, he quickly reached to his neck, grabbed an amulet and shouted, ‘Rothlú!’ Dad connected with nothing but air. He would have smashed into the far wall, if Araf hadn’t caught him.
Fergal was still conscious. I dropped down next to him, just as Mom popped through the Muirbhrúcht. She quickly joined me. I pried Cialtie’s hand off the pommel and threw it across the room. When I started to remove the sword Mom stopped me. She placed her hands on both sides of Fergal’s head and closed her eyes. When she opened them they were filled with tears. She shook her head no. It felt like my heart was the one that had a sword in it.
‘Hey, cousin,’ Fergal said, ‘why the long face? We’ve laughed through worse times than this.’ The tears came so hard I had to squeeze my eyelids to clear my vision. When I opened them, he was gone. He still had a little smile in the corners of his mouth.
It wasn’t me. It was Fergal. Fergal was the one. He was the son of the one-handed prince. Fergal was the one who had to be sacrificed in order to save The Land. Oh, Fergal. At that moment I couldn’t imagine anything that was worth that price.
Chapter Thirty-One
A Decision
The ensuing battle didn’t amount to much. At the moment Cialtie’s ring misfired, most of his crack troops were standing on the ramparts of the eastern wall watching Lorcan’s army approach. They were killed in the blast. The battalion that had been sent to meet Lorcan legged it back to the castle when they saw the explosion. The Imps and Leprechauns charged after them. During a fierce battle in the courtyard, Dahy killed their captain with a knife throw reportedly from fifty yards away. Without any commanders Cialtie’s army surrendered. Maybe their Banshee sixth sense informed them that they had lost.
At sunset most of the mopping up was done. Lorcan ordered all of his troops to muster in the courtyard. Aein gathered the servants there too. Many of them she had saved by telling them to evacuate the east wing. Dad and I climbed to the upper walkway.
At the top of the stairs, he said, ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask for the Lawnmower back.’
I handed it to him and together we walked to the edge of the railing. In his right hand he held aloft the Major Rune of Duir, and in the other hand the Sword of Duir. The roar that went out was deafening. After several tries Dad silenced the throng and put his arm around my shoulder.
‘People of The Land,’ he shouted, ‘this is my son of whom I am exceedingly proud–I give you–Conor of Duir!’
The crowd just went crazy. I used to want to be a rock superstar but after that experience, I’ll take being the son of the two-handed prince any day.
The week that followed was mad. Reconstruction of the eastern wall started immediately. News of Dad capturing the throne and regaining his hand spread even faster than if they had television around here. Dignitaries poured in every day to meet with Pop.
Mom and Nieve spent most of their time tending to the wounded. Dad would wheel me out periodically to meet Lord Whoosit or Lady What’s-her-Name but other than that I really didn’t have much to do.
There was a nice moment when Dad sent for me to meet the king of the Brownies and his two sons. I entered from the rear of the throne room, nipped up next to Dad and without looking bowed just like Pop taught me to. When I straightened up I saw a very potbellied Brownie flanked by two open-mouthed youths.
‘Frank, Jesse, how the hell are you?’
A look of terror crossed Frank’s face as I walked towards him. He pulled his head back from his father’s peripheral vision and shook his head. The desperado boys had obviously not told their father about their little walkabout.
‘You know my sons?’ the Brownie king asked.
I walked up close and looked each of them square in the eyes from about six inches away. I was close enough to see the sweat form on their brows–it was fun.
I backed off. ‘I’m sorry, your highness, I don’t see very well since my ordeal in the battle, I am mistaken.’
As they left, Jesse glanced back smiling and slipped me a little wave.
‘What was that about?’ Dad asked.
‘I’ll tell you later,’ I said.
I left the throne room and sent a message to Dahy to have the two Brownie boys’ luggage searched by the porters before they left. I found out later they both had a couple of choice souvenirs in their bags.
I got tired of everybody gaping and bowing to me everywhere I went, so I spent most of my time sitting in my room trying to piece Cialtie’s wooden box back together and thinking of Fergal. So when I heard that Lorcan was returning to the Hazellands to clear out his old headquarters, I jumped at the chance to go.
I overslept on the morning we were supposed to leave. I still hadn’t gotten used to the luxury of sleeping in clean sheets and in a soft bed. I ran down to the courtyard to see a stern-looking Lorcan and his guard all mounted and waiting for me. I ran into the stables to get Cloud (Acorn was still on the disabled list)–and imagine my delight when I saw Mom saddling up. ‘Are you coming?’
‘Nieve can handle what is left of the wounded, and more importantly, I have not spent enough time with my son.’
‘Cool,’ I said.
‘Yes, it is pleasant out.’
Araf came in and chose a horse.
‘Are you coming too?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he replied, with one word more than usual.
Lorcan set a swift pace. I think he was trying to punish me for being late. Cloud seemed to be obeying not only my commands but my thoughts. I’m not sure if it was because she was responding to the glorious morning or I was becoming a pretty good equestrian. I’d like to think it was the latter. I didn’t imagine it was possible but the place seemed even more alive than before. The air was crisp and clear and the colours of the landscape were more vivid than ever. It was as if Tir na Nog itself knew that the proper order had once again come to The Land.
We camped that night out in the open on the edge of the Eadthlands. Lorcan’s guards sang songs and passed around some sort of Leprechaun brew that made me feel shorter. Mom told tales of the Fili and Shadowmagic. You could see how delighted she was that these things were, by the order of the new king, no longer forbidden. The only one who seemed not to be enjoying himself was Araf. I went over to where he was sitting.
‘You seem awfully quiet tonight,’ I said, ‘and when you seem quiet that’s saying something.’
‘Quiet, yes. That’s the problem,’ he said, staring into his mug of Leprechaun-shine. ‘I often would pray that Fergal would just stop babbling so I could have a chance to think. I never imagined how painful silence could be.’
‘Yeah, I miss him too.’
We sat for a while in painful silence before I said, ‘You know, I can babble on good as anyone.’
And I did. I told him all about the Real World and my life with Dad. How we lived in Ireland and then England before we came to Scranton, Pennsylvania. I explained: TV and shopping malls, soccer and baseball, hamburger joints and airplanes.
When I had finished he said, ‘You have devices that toast bread with a touch of a button and machines that fly? It surely must be a magical place.’
I laughed–then thought–maybe he was right.
I spent the next day riding abreast with Mom. She told me about the history of the Hall of Knowledge, her childhood in the Hazellands and stories of my grandparents. By the time we were ready to camp for our second night, she had just about reached the part where she discovered her home destroyed. The rest of our party sensed the seriousness of our conversation and left us alone.
‘It must have been horrible for you,’ I said. ‘I can’t even imagine what it must have been like.’
‘To be honest, son, I was so consumed by rage, I do not truly remember much. I knew the Fili were the only ones that could help me with my revenge. As it transpired, they did not help me with revenge–only my rage.’
‘Now that you kn
ow it was the Banshees from the Reedlands, do you think Cialtie had anything to do with it?’
‘I would be lying if I said that thought did not cross my mind. We know he is capable of terrible things, but he has done one thing for which I am truly grateful. He brought you back to me.’
The next day we rode parallel to the blackthorn wall. The thorns pointed at us in respect to Mom as we passed–a creaky vegetable Mexican wave. When we reached the scorched border of the Hazellands, Mom stopped, dismounted and stared into her former home. She looked lost. I dismounted and stood beside her.
‘Are you OK, Mom?’
‘I have been back here twice,’ she said. Her voice betrayed the slightest of trembles. ‘The last time was with you. We had pressing business then and I performed a Fili concentration trick on myself so as not to think about it. The time before that was when I found it destroyed.’
‘If you want to go back I will ride with you.’
She turned and smiled at me–a pained smile, the same expression I had seen recently in the mirror when I thought of Fergal stealing my shoes.
‘Thank you, son, but no. I have delayed this too long. But first there is something I must do. Lorcan!’ she called to guards who had been waiting a respectful distance away. ‘Bear witness to this.’
Mom stood with her back to the thorns. Lorcan and his men dismounted and stood to attention around her in a semicircle.
