‘But the Lord of the Dark Sidhe sees it differently. He believes the prophecy means that the blood must actually flow into the sacred earth.’
Bansi felt her veins chill as she realized what Pogo was telling her. She wanted to cover her ears, to pretend she was asleep and dreaming and none of this was happening – anything but go on listening. Yet listen she did. The little man leaned forward, staring into her eyes with a blazing intensity.
‘As far as the Dark Lord is concerned, to claim the inheritance of Derga, he must take you to one of the sacred places of Tir na n’Óg, and spill out your blood in sacrifice.
‘Every last drop.’
Chapter Eight
Downstairs, Granny and Mrs Mullarkey were in the middle of a furious argument. Or at least Granny was; Mrs Mullarkey was being unusually, indeed worryingly, placid.
‘Eileen,’ she was saying, ‘I keep telling you, there’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Nothing to worry about!’ Granny almost shrieked. ‘Nora, my window upstairs is in ruins because a big wolf jumped through it and attacked my granddaughter! And then it got away! And according to you that wolf is one of your blessed Good People in disguise!’
‘Good People?’ Nora Mullarkey asked teasingly. ‘Come on, now, Eileen, aren’t you getting a bit old to believe in fairies?’
Granny stared. In all the time she had known Nora Mullarkey – more than sixty years now – she had never once known her to say that word. Never. Something, she suddenly realized, was dreadfully wrong.
Her hand went to her mouth. ‘Bansi!’ she said, horrified. ‘Where is she?’
‘Oh, she’s probably gone back to bed. She’s tired, poor wee thing. Don’t disturb her, Eileen. Sit down and drink your tea before it gets cold, why don’t you?’
Granny ignored her, slamming the kitchen door on her way out.
Mrs Mullarkey shrugged, got calmly to her feet, opened one of the drawers and began to search.
At the top of the stairs, Eileen O’Hara paused. She could hear voices coming from Bansi’s room.
One was definitely her granddaughter’s; the other had a tone that was at once child-like and elderly.
As stealthily as she could, she moved along the landing and peered in. What she saw took her so much by surprise that she quite forgot herself.
‘Heavens!’ she burst out. ‘A talking monkey!’
Bansi started guiltily, feeling somehow as if she’d been caught doing something wrong, while Pogo – in rather a wasted effort – drew himself up to his full height, and glared. ‘If there’s anyone in this room related to the monkeys,’ he said coldly, ‘she wasn’t here a moment ago.’
Granny pulled herself together. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘so what might you be?’
‘Granny,’ Bansi said, feeling that some form of introduction – not to say explanation – was in order, ‘he’s a friend – at least, I’m almost sure he is.’
‘Oh, aye? What kind of a friend?’ Granny sounded rather suspicious, Bansi thought.
‘This is Pogo. He’s a brownie.’
‘A brownie, eh?’ Granny asked, even more suspiciously, though her eyes flicked around the room and noticed the beginnings of the tidying up. ‘Not here to get his bewitching badge, I hope. So, Mr Pogo, what can we do for you?’
Pogo harrumphed. ‘It’s more what I can do for you – or at least for the wee girl here . . .’ he began.
A movement in the doorway caught Bansi’s eye. She had no time to tell what it was, but all her senses were primed now for danger. ‘Granny!’ she shouted urgently. ‘Look out!’ She leaped off the bed.
Granny twisted round, and behind her Bansi saw Mrs Mullarkey, her face blank and expressionless, swing at her friend’s head with a solid wooden rolling pin. Without thinking, Bansi acted: she charged; shoved hard; caught the old woman off-balance. The rolling pin slipped from Mrs Mullarkey’s grasp. With surprising strength she struck back; Bansi felt a hot bruising pain across her cheekbone as she was knocked to the floor with a swipe of one skinny arm. She reached for the fallen rolling pin and grabbed it, but instantly Mrs Mullarkey’s bony fingers closed on her hand and prised it from her, to turn once more on Granny O’Hara. Bansi picked herself up, threw herself desperately at the old woman, grabbed her, tried to hold her back; but Mrs Mullarkey was possessed and hardly seemed to notice. She raised the rolling pin out of Bansi’s reach, flung her off and advanced relentlessly on her friend.
‘Hey, missus!’ A voice came from knee-height. Mrs Mullarkey glanced down. ‘Can I interest you in a biscuit?’ Pogo enquired savagely, swinging the poker at her shins.
Mrs Mullarkey collapsed like a puppet whose strings have been sliced through.
Pogo looked down at her. ‘Ha!’ he mocked. ‘Just think what I could do if I existed!’ He met Granny’s worried gaze. ‘You needn’t look at me like that, missus. She’ll wake up with a bruised shinbone, but she’ll be fine otherwise.’
‘Fine? When you’ve knocked her out?’
‘By hitting her on the leg? Have some sense, missus! I just broke the spell, that’s all.’ Pogo sighed irritably, as if tired of having to explain things to ignorant mortals. ‘It’s like she was put into a kind of magical sleep, see; and then her body was taken over by the enchantment. Take away the enchantment – by belting her one with an iron poker, for instance – and all that’s left is the sleep. She’ll feel better after a wee doze.’
‘Now, talking of that enchantment . . .’ Granny began suspiciously.
‘Don’t go blaming that on me!’ Pogo snapped. ‘If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s your own. Oh, don’t pull that shocked face.Nora Maura Margaret Mullarkey!’ he mimicked. ‘That wolf is a warrior of the Dark Sidhe! And you spoke your friend’s full name in front of him, giving him the power to enchant her! Have you no sense?’
‘Aye, and have you none either, Pogo?’ a voice enquired good-humouredly. ‘Wasting time arguing with mortals when there’s work to be done!’
There, perched cheerfully on the windowsill – though no one had seen him appear – was a boy of about Bansi’s own age, dressed in colours which seemed to dance like firelight. His face was wildly handsome, with the merriest smile Bansi had ever seen; it was the sort of face, she felt, that you couldn’t help liking.
Granny clearly didn’t feel the same way. ‘Here!’ she said, snatching up the poker. ‘And who might this be, Mr Brownie? Friend of yours?’
‘I suppose, aye,’ Pogo growled ungraciously. ‘This is Tam. He’s with me. He’s the púca I told you about,’ he added to Bansi, as the boy leaped lithely through the window and landed with a mirthful, mocking bow to all present.
‘A púca?’ Granny asked sharply. ‘No offence meant, young man, but if you’re a púca, shouldn’t you be a bit more . . . well . . . goaty-looking?’
‘Granny!’ Bansi exclaimed, embarrassed by her granny’s rudeness. But as Tam burst out laughing Bansi blushed deeper, for she realized she had no idea at all of what would seem rude to a faery.
‘No, maybe I should, now,’ Tam chuckled, heedless of Pogo’s obvious disapproval and sense of urgency. ‘Good idea, missus. All the goat stuff’s great craic, so it is. How’s this?’
Granny shrieked and snatched up the poker, waving it furiously at the muscular goat-headed man who had suddenly appeared in Tam’s place. ‘Bansi!’ she ordered. ‘Don’t look!’
At the same time, Pogo was shouting, ‘Tam, stop messing about, now! And for goodness’ sakes, get some clothes on! Cover that thing up!’
The goat-headed man laughed again, a great booming guffaw that almost shook the room. ‘Not to your liking, missus?’ he asked. ‘How’s this, then?’ Next second, he was an enormous shaggy black goat, taller than Granny, with gleaming yellow eyes. ‘Meeeh!’ he said. ‘How’s that? Is that better?’
Granny stepped back in alarm, standing over her unconscious friend protectively, but Bansi, feeling perfectly safe, stifled a laugh. It seemed obvious to her – though she didn’t know how – th
at Tam was good-hearted, however wild and carefree a spirit he might be.
The goat laughed again, and next moment was once more a tousle-haired boy in flame-coloured clothing. ‘No, to be honest, this is more me, missus. The goat stuff’s good fun and all, mind, but when I’m not up to mischief this is how I prefer to look. Is that all right by you?’ He winked at Bansi, who grinned back.
‘Well, I never . . .’ Granny began, looking shocked.
‘Come on, Granny, you started it!’ Bansi teased. Somehow Tam’s very presence had lightened her mood, distracted her from the danger. ‘You were the one who said he should be more goaty!’
‘Well, that’s what all the old stories say about the púca,’ Granny grumbled. ‘I may not be an expert like Nora, but I know enough to have heard how the púca takes the shape of a goat . . .’
‘Never mind all that!’ Pogo raged. ‘Here you all are, feeding Tam’s pride by talking about nothing but him, when there’s a warrior of the Dark Sidhe on the loose and the child’s very life is in danger!’
Granny went pale. ‘What–?’ she began.
‘I’m not going through all that again,’ the brownie said, glaring at her. ‘The short version, missus, is that the Lord of the Dark Sidhe wants to sacrifice your wee girl in order to become more powerful, and we’re here to stop him doing that. Except goaty-boy hasn’t been much help so far.’
‘Here!’ Tam objected, still grinning all over his face. ‘I resent that, wee man. I’ve been out there all night keeping the wolf from the door!’
‘Well, you didn’t manage to keep it from the window, did you?’ Granny snapped.
Tam shrugged cheerfully. ‘Is that why it’s such a mess in here? I’d have thought you’d have sorted that out by now, Pogo. Still, no harm done, eh?’
Pogo looked like he might explode. ‘No harm done? The Dark Sidhe broke in here, paralysed the girl and bewitched the old biddy on the floor there! Twice they’ve been in mortal danger, Tam; twice the Dark Sidhe have nearly had the Blood of the Morning Stars in their hands, and all you can say is “no harm done”! Where were you? It was your job to guard the house and stop that wolf-warrior from ever getting in!’
‘Aye, well, he was a bit craftier than I thought, see. Suddenly looked up like he’d heard something, and raced off, so I followed him – I know, I know,’ he added, as Pogo opened his mouth to speak, ‘I should’ve just stayed at my post, but I was getting bored. So anyway, I kept on his tail, even when he took cover in some woodland – couldn’t see him through the trees, but I could hear him moving all right. Except, when he finally broke cover, it wasn’t him. It was a fox. He’s clever, I’ll give him that – he must have startled it, got it running, gone to ground till I was off on a wild goose chase and then doubled back. Could have kicked myself when I realized. Still, here I am, and delighted to make your acquaintance, by the way,’ he added with a merry grin and another bow, this one all for Bansi, who found herself giggling most uncharacteristically. ‘Tam’s the name, and as long as I’m here, you’ve no need to fear!’
Bansi almost giggled again, but kept it inside.Stop it! she told herself.Have a bit of dignity! Ignoring the glare her granny was shooting at the faery boy, she put on her most grown-up manner and held her hand out. ‘I’m Bansi,’ she said. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
Tam took her hand, but instead of shaking it he bowed again, a low, courtly bow like an Elizabethan gentleman, and kissed her hand gently and only half mockingly. Just in time, Bansi caught another giggle that threatened to bubble to the surface. Honestly, she thought, you’re behaving like Preeti!
The thought that she could be anything like her silly, twittery, pink-obsessed cousin so irritated her that she snatched her hand away.
‘Right – what do we do now?’ she asked Tam.
He straightened up, with yet another grin and a wink. ‘Ah, we just wait it out, I reckon.’
‘Wait it out?’ Pogo fumed. ‘Why, you stupid—’
‘Think about it, now, Pogo. There’s only one of them.’
‘As far as we know,’ Pogo broke in sourly.
‘As far as we know,’ Tam agreed cheerfully. ‘The way I see it, if we all just sit tight till nightfall, we’re in the clear. To be honest, it’s easier now these mortals know about us; we can stay here and guard Bansi without any of that hiding rigmarole. As long as we can do that, we’ve won. To fulfil the prophecy, they need the Blood of the Morning Stars, joined together and flowing, and where can they find that except in her veins? It’s not like they can mix some up themselves, now, is it?’
For a moment, Bansi was only aware of a deep and sudden sense of unease. Something was badly wrong; there was something they’d overlooked, and it had to do with what Tam had just said. It took a second for it to burrow into Bansi’s mind; but when it did, it exploded.
‘Gran! Where are Mum and Dad?’
‘Well, they’re in bed, love . . .’ A look of puzzlement came over the old woman’s face. ‘But they can’t still be asleep, surely? There’s been enough noise here tonight to wake the dead!’
Gripped by a sudden panic, Bansi raced across the landing and tore open the door to her parents’ room. There, a dreadful sight met her eyes.
The room was in utter disarray, showing every sign of a violent struggle. The window was smashed; the bedding was lying crumpled and torn upon the floor.
Of her parents, there was no sign.
Chapter Nine
Bansi stood for a moment in shock, her mind racing. Everything that Pogo had told her about the prophecy tumbled in her head, echoing together with Tam’s words.
When the Blood of the Morning Stars, joined and flowing together, is returned at last to the sacred earth . . .
‘It’s not like they can mix some up themselves, now, is it?’
It made sense.
‘Pogo,’ she said, ‘they’ve got my parents!’ Behind her, she heard her grandmother gasp.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, girl. What would they want with . . .’ Pogo’s voice tailed off as realization dawned. ‘Ah, no!’
‘What?’ Tam asked, appearing behind them.
‘If my mum’s descended from Avalloc,’ Bansi said, ‘and my dad from Caer . . .’
‘Ah, now, that’s not playing fair!’ said Tam. ‘They’re going to spill your parents’ blood?’
‘It’s still the Blood of the Morning Stars,’ Bansi pointed out. ‘And if–’ She stopped, unable to face where the thought was leading.
Pogo faced it for her. ‘If they sacrifice them together, they can make sure the blood’s joined and flowing as one by the time it reaches the ground.’
Bansi swallowed, feeling suddenly sick. Little black dots swam in front of her eyes, and for one horrible second she thought she might faint. Pictures crowded into her mind: dreadful images of her parents bound or chained, with sharp blades or animal teeth pricking at their throats, and as fast as she pushed one picture aside another took its place.
‘Ah, well, on the bright side,’ Tam said, ‘my guess is it’ll do them no good. It’s Bansi they need, right enough.’
‘Bright side!’ Granny gasped in outrage and horror. ‘They’re going to kill my son and his lovely wife, and you’re looking on the bright side!’ Her face took on a furious look. ‘Oh, I have not words to describe these hallions! Kidnappers and murderers! Well, how do we stop them? What do we do?’
Pogo looked at Bansi. His little face creased and wrinkled, but for once he had nothing to say. Bansi stared back, looking for some kind of comfort or reassurance in the brownie’s eyes, but found none.
‘There’s one thing that might work,’ Tam offered. ‘But it’s up to you, Bansi. How brave are you feeling?’
Bansi was surprised to find that she was feeling very brave indeed. Brave, and frightened, and furious and determined. She looked Tam in the eye and felt strengthened by what she saw there. ‘Tell me what to do,’ she said.
‘Well,’ the púca said, ‘the Dark Lord plans to fulfil the prophecy
by sacrificing your parents – not that that’ll work, mind; but still. Now, if we were to fulfil the prophecy first . . .’
‘Tam, no!’ Pogo interrupted, a look of fury on his little face.
‘Pogo, just think before you start arguing!’ Tam said. ‘I know what you’re going to say – no brownie would put a mortal in such danger. Right?’ Pogo nodded sourly. ‘But by doing nothing, you’re condemning two mortals to death, aren’t you? This way, we can make sure no harm comes to Bansi, and maybe save her parents, too. Besides which – are you completely sure that what he’s planning has no chance of working? Imagine the consequences if it did!’
Pogo subsided. He folded his arms in grudging resignation and glared at the floor. ‘Aye. Well,’ he said after a moment, ‘maybe you’re right, Tam. I don’t like it; but maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s the only way left to us now.’
‘What are the pair of you blethering on about?’ Granny burst out.
Pogo turned to her exasperatedly. ‘The only way we might stop the Dark Lord sacrificing your son and his wife,’ he said, ‘is to act first, and fulfil the prophecy ourselves.’
‘You’re not suggesting sacrificing my wee Bansi!’ Granny exclaimed, pointing angrily with the poker.
‘No, missus, no,’ Tam soothed. ‘That’s the irony of it – no sacrifice is needed. All Bansi has to do is come and stand in one of the sacred places of Tir na n’Óg. That’s all. We can take her straight to our friends as soon as dawn begins to break; there’s a sacred grove less than a mile from where we’ll be meeting them. The prophecy can be fulfilled in minutes and the child returned home by nightfall.’
‘Oh, aye?’ Granny raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘And this Dark Lord fellow’ll just let Fintan and Asha go, then?’
Tam shrugged wryly. ‘Well, you never know. Thing is, no one’s sure what’ll happen when the prophecy’s fulfilled. But I reckon the one who claims the inheritance of Derga–’
‘And that’ll be you, will it?’ Granny asked sceptically.
Tam grinned, impervious to the insult. ‘Most likely it’ll be Caithne of the Sacred Grove; and maybe she’ll come into such power straight away that she’ll be able to stop the sacrifice from happening. Or maybe not, but whatever happens, it should give us an advantage.
Bansi O'Hara and the Bloodline Prophecy Page 6
