Killian says nothing. Sees a gunshot strike the doorframe and feels another clip the ground at his heels as he and Lord Mountfathom tumble through the doorway and one of the tenement men is almost on them with rifle raised –
Killian gives him the finger and kicks shut the door.
LUKE
Lady Mountfathom takes Luke’s hand. They run free of the Castle grounds with Dorrick beside them, back into the Shaded street. Luke raises his hand to weave another Spell of Enclosure but his mother says, ‘No – you need to concentrate on finding a door.’
And she pushes the crimson key into his hand.
‘Why are you giving this to me?’ asks Luke. ‘We go back together or not at all.’
‘Do not be disagreeable,’ his mother tells him. ‘Quick now – stay with Flann.’
Dorrick puts a hand around Luke’s shoulders to lead him, Lady Mountfathom a few steps behind, Needle in hand. Only moments and Luke feels beneath his feet a tremble.
‘Faster!’ is all his mother says.
Left and back the way they came – towards the riverside, into narrow streets, Luke’s eyes so desperate for the sight of some door.
‘Stop now,’ says his mother, in only a whisper.
‘Be ready to run,’ says Dorrick. ‘You must keep your reflexes sharp, otherwise these creatures will –’
He has no chance to say more.
Lady Mountfathom pulls her son aside as the ground beneath Flann Dorrick is broken open and something swallows him, pulls him screaming down into the dark.
‘Run!’ shouts Luke’s mother.
But Luke sees now: worming free of the ground in front of them, a creature long-necked and dark-bodied. Recognises the Ash-Dragon in an instant from books and tapestries. But things unlearned from pages or portraits – the heat and sense of power, serpentine shape sliding smooth across stone, tasting the dark air with a fine, forked tongue.
He and his mother stop.
And the Ash-Dragon stops, makes a soft hiss. A twitch of its small legs; shakes itself and opens a pair of papery wings to fill the air with a fresh choking of ash. Creature turns its narrow head towards them and opens a pair of milky eyes.
‘Find a door,’ shouts Luke’s mother as she pushes her son aside.
The Dragon springs towards them –
Lady Mountfathom swings her Needle high and from the Liffey surges a hand of water that storms through the narrow street and sweeps the Ash-Dragon out of their path.
Luke’s mother takes his hand and they run and Luke cannot see but can feel so certainly the presence of more Dragons rising from the ground.
And then at last –
‘A door!’ Points ahead – the shut sweetshop.
‘Go,’ his mother tells him, tearing her hand from his.
‘Not without you,’ says Luke.
‘I am just behind you, my love!’
Too long a pause. A Dragon falls from above and pins Lady Mountfathom to the ground as another explodes from below –
Luke Works the first Spell that comes to hand and encases the Dragon in ice. His mother drives her Needle into the skull of the Dragon on top of her –
With ear-shredding screech it leaps away, taking the Needle with it –
‘Please go!’ she shouts to her son, still on the ground, now sobbing. ‘Please, son!’
Luke turns and screws the crimson key into the lock –
Second Dragon shakes itself free of the Spell, sheds the shell of ice and moves towards Luke –
Still on the ground Lady Mountfathom plucks a knife from her boot and hurls it and strikes the Dragon in the heart but still it slithers on –
Panicked note as the door connects with the Gloaming –
And a last look between mother and son –
Luke opens the door and steps through as his mother shouts, ‘Do not look back, son! Do not look back!’
Feels the heat of the Ash-Dragon at his neck –
And his mother is suddenly seized by the ankles by another Ash-Dragon and dragged into the ground, a final scream leaving her. ‘Go!’
Luke slams shut the door and hopes and hopes for home.
PART FOUR
THE RISING
For too long Magic has been only for one type of man.
Only the privileged have been allowed it, Spells and the like.
But by God no more!
Magic & The Decent Everyman
Anonymous
LUKE
Who is it?
Someone there?
Can you hear me?
Can you see?
Luke alone.
Killian with Lord Mountfathom and Lady Vane-Tempest beside and both injured …
Someone bloody help if there’s anyone there!
Killian! Is that you? I’m here. I’ll find you! I’m going to find you …
Crimson light and emerald reach for one another. Luke runs through the Gloaming with one hand outstretched until it meets another: both grab and hold tight and throw questions at one another.
What happened to Father?
Where’s your mother?
Ash-Dragons in Dublin … I didn’t know what to do.
Which bloody way do we go now?
Back to Mountfathom.
No. Lord Mountfathom speaks. He is leaning heavily, injured, on Lady Vane-Tempest. Reaches out to Luke, seizes his hand. Says again, No. We cannot go back, not yet. It is not safe.
Luke says, Why not?
It takes a long time for his father to speak. He seems unable to look at Luke. Finally, he asks, What happened in Dublin? What was the result of the vote?
There was no vote, says Luke. The decision was made and we had no say.
Two-faced bastard, says Lady Vane-Tempest, faintly.
Luke goes on. Fortflay made an announcement too – says there are to be no more Spells Worked in Ireland other than Magic approved by the Castle. The Politomancer is in charge of Magic now – and the Driochta are enemies of the Crown.
We must find the Halters, says his father. We must get to them before Major Fortflay does.
Go to the Dragon Coast? asks Luke.
Yes, says Lord Mountfathom.
And as soon as the decision is made the way becomes clear. In Luke’s hand the crimson key brightens, to show them the way ahead.
Luke speaks to his father. I left Mother behind in Dublin. And Mr Dorrick too. I don’t know what happened to them but I think –
Do not speak of it now, says his father. Please, Luke – your mother can look after herself. Do not worry yourself.
So they walk.
And like a picture frame hung askew, a lopsided doorway is their destination. Luke slots the crimson key into the lock and when the door opens it is a threshold onto more dark. Reminds Luke so much of Dublin he worries that he has led them there, back into danger.
Go through, says Killian. He has the emerald key in his hand. He says, I won’t let anyone get the better of us!
All four step through.
KILLIAN
Killian has heard tell of this Dragon Coast and always quite fancied paying a visit. Now? Wishes he could turn back and take his chances anywhere but here.
Air all about is streaked with trails of ash. Ground coated with a layer of warm and still smouldering cinder. Around them, shattered columns of basalt like broken chimneystacks – the places where the Ash-Dragons must have been slumbering. Sea must be somewhere close; Killian can only hear it, a faint rush of unseen waves against unseen shore.
‘How will we find anyone in all this?’ he asks Luke.
Luke says nothing for a moment, then whispers, ‘We need a Messenger.’
Luke stoops and from dark ground teases a pale figure into existence – a woman. He whispers to it the message, ‘Find the Halters. Tell them we are here and to find us at once. Tell them they are in danger and to trust no one but the other members of the Driochta.’ A wave of the hand and Luke sends the Messenger on its errand – it takes to the air and is
swallowed soon by the darkness.
‘We cannot stay in the open,’ says Lady Vane-Tempest. Her face is heavily bruised, dried blood staining one side of it. But she is stern of voice when she says, ‘We must find some cover at once.’
‘Aye,’ says Killian. ‘I don’t like hanging about like this.’
‘Luke, I believe the abandoned Rath is somewhere close by,’ says Lord Mountfathom.
‘Yes,’ says Luke, recalling his previous trip here with his mother. He weaves his hand in the air and a breeze rises, parting a portion of the dark. They see a forest climbing a steep hillside. ‘That way,’ says Luke. ‘Through the trees.’
‘Onward then,’ says Lady Vane-Tempest, and she supports Lord Mountfathom. Luke and Killian follow close behind.
Soft crunch of cinder like shattered bone underfoot, acrid taste of smoke on their tongues. Suddenly –
Cry of Lady Vane-Tempest: ‘Luke! Seems we are about to have some company!’
LUKE
Through unravelling smoke he sees an oncoming rush, a wave of grey-black leaving the shelter of the forest and storming down the slope.
Killian asks, ‘What the hell are those things?’
Luke doesn’t speak until he knows for sure.
‘A pack of Irish wolfhounds.’
‘What’re those things on their backs?’ asks Killian.
But no more time for guesswork; suddenly they are surrounded and are being shouted at.
‘What do you want here?’
‘Come to destroy more of us?’
‘Was it not enough that those bloody Dragons have now woken?’
Wolfhounds encircle; seated on each is a figure the size of a small child. Earthen bodies, human eyes, primitive weapons tight in earthen hands – blades rusted and bitten and bent but directed at Luke and Killian and Lord Mountfathom and Lady Vane-Tempest with an unequivocal aggression.
And Luke remembers who these men are – recalls the horror of the underground, the wicked Magic spilling into the chamber and transforming.
Though it is Killian who says, ‘The Boreen Men? I heard tell of them from one of Da’s mates! But I thought they’d all been tracked down and killed. Everyone in Belfast always said –’
‘You think we give two frigs what anyone in Belfast says!’ A shout from the nearest Boreen Man and he takes a swipe at Killian’s arm with his blade – breaks the skin.
When Killian sees the blood he swears and shouts, ‘You’re gonna get a good kicking in a minute, wee man!’
The other Boreen Men threaten attack –
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort if you wanna stay breathing!’
‘Who do you think you are coming and setting foot so close to our Rath!’
‘You’re lucky we haven’t slit your damnable throats already!’
And Luke can see this too swiftly escalating. He shouts, ‘We are not here to fight! We’re here to see some of our Order – the Halters. Do you know where they are?’
Things quieten a little.
‘I know you,’ says the nearest Boreen Man suddenly, staring at Luke. And Luke knows the Boreen Man: recognises the eyes of Malone. ‘You were there that day, when it all happened. You came into our Rath and tried to get us to discuss matters, and then the Magic came and transformed us all. You tricked us!’
Uproar from the other Boreen Men and Luke opens his mouth to reply, but it is Lord Mountfathom who speaks. In a voice low and halting and full of sincerity he says, ‘We can offer no apology for what befell you that day, and I would not wish to – it would be an insult to your integrity. But I can assure you that my son would have been acting only to help. The Driochta have tried to stay impartial in this conflict, but I fear we cannot do so any longer. We have tried in the recent past to negotiate with you; if you could see fit to help us now, we would be very grateful indeed.’
Lady Vane-Tempest says, ‘We have been betrayed by the Castle in Dublin, the very same as you.’
Grumbles of disagreement from the Boreen Men – plenty of doubt and disbelief, though Luke notices that Malone is saying nothing. So it is to him that Luke speaks. ‘The Politomancer has come to Ireland. Before that, he Cast his Spells from across the water, but now he is in the Castle in Dublin. He has brought something with him – my mother called it the Pall.’
It is the first time Luke has made mention of this and the reaction is immediate – Lady Vane-Tempest turns to him and mouths the word No faintly. His father closes his eyes and shakes his head. And the Boreen Men look to one another, their wolfhounds shifting restless.
Malone tells Luke, ‘You best not be lying to us. We’re small but by God we aren’t simple-minded!’
‘It is the truth,’ says Luke. ‘I promise you.’
Malone looks to the other Boreen Men. A moment, and he turns back to face Luke. He says, ‘Follow us so and we’ll take you somewhere safe, if there is such a thing as “safe” now in this Godforsaken island.’
KILLIAN
‘I don’t trust these wee fellas.’
‘Killian, why does that not surprise me?’
‘Give me the bloody creeps.’
The two boys are walking now a narrow path through the forest, following the Boreen Men on their wolfhounds.
Luke says, ‘It is not their fault they are as they are. They cannot help it any more than we can help our own nature.’
Killian says, ‘Very grand statement there – well done. You sound just like your father.’
Both boys stop and face one another.
‘My father took you into Mountfathom,’ says Luke. ‘Kept you safe.’
‘I didn’t ask him to,’ replies Killian, and means it. ‘Look, all I’m saying is, your father went casually as anything into the tenements, and sent you and your ma to the Castle, and he didn’t think about what might happen.’ He waits for these words to hit … but Luke says nothing, only stares at the ground and doesn’t disagree, and this only angers Killian more. ‘You need to stand up for yourself! You all need to take the bloody blinkers off and see that when it comes down to it, no one gives a damn about anyone else. Not in this country and maybe not in any!’
‘Now you are the one making grand statements,’ says Luke, in only a whisper.
‘Because I know things,’ says Killian, and starts to point a finger – at himself, at Luke. ‘I’ve been places. You think I need you and your da and that House of yours to keep me? Wrong. I can go anywhere and do what I like. I don’t need anyone’s help.’ A pause. ‘And I definitely don’t need you.’
And he turns and walks, shoulders hunched and hands deep in his pockets. Keeps walking until he has walked away but –
LUKE
‘Please!’ Luke’s voice comes out in a shout and this is what stops Killian. ‘Please – you may not need Mountfathom, but Mountfathom needs you.’
He watches Killian’s back.
Stands and waits, and is rewarded with only a few harsh words.
‘You’re too weak, Luke. You shouldn’t beg to people.’
And Luke says, ‘You’re right – I know nothing outside Mountfathom. I’m not like you. I haven’t been in the world to learn how to be sly or tell stories or lie.’
Killian turns to face him – not in confrontation, but with perhaps a little more respect.
Luke says, ‘The truth is I need you to help me.’ And adds, deeply desiring of an answer, ‘Will you?’
And this boy from Belfast – this person he has known for so short a time yet it feels somehow longer – answers him. ‘Okay, I’ll help. Sure I’ve got nothing much else planned for today.’
‘Stop hanging about there!’ calls Malone. ‘All chat and no action, that’s your problem!’
‘I think he might have a point,’ says Luke.
‘Ah, stop feeling sorry for yourself,’ says Killian, and walks to Luke and slaps a hand on his back. Keeps it resting there as he says, ‘Could be worse – you could be like one of these fellas, three feet high and made of dirt!’
&nbs
p; KILLIAN
Forest thins, trees go no further – cease at the point the ground starts to rise in a smooth slope of dark earth and wild heather to meet a vast and rounded mound.
‘What is this?’ asks Killian.
‘Never seen a Faerie Rath?’ says Luke.
‘Not many of them about in Belfast,’ says Killian.
Up the slope, Lady Vane-Tempest still helping Lord Mountfathom, Killian and Luke step over and around a scattering of shattered limestone.
‘Sorry remains of the wall that used to keep the Rath protected,’ says Luke.
‘Couldn’t have been much of a wall even when it was standing,’ says Killian.
‘Would have had Faerie Enchantments on it – they were powerful Workers of Magic. No wonder the Major wanted rid of them.’
On the mound itself, maybe a dozen more Boreen Men stand guard. When they see the approach of the group, some hurry down to meet Malone. Killian watches – sees an agitation of earthen limbs, a narrowing of eyes, words passing in fierce whisper and hiss …
Killian asks, ‘What’s up?’ Walks up to Malone. ‘What’s the trouble?’
‘Trouble,’ says Malone. He slips from the back of his wolfhound. ‘Some of our scouts sent word that Gards from the Castle have been seen within a mile of here.’
‘Looking for the Land Grabbers maybe?’ says Luke. ‘The ones who woke the Ash-Dragons?’
‘Wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ says Malone, and spits onto the heather. ‘We need to be ready to fight – we should trust no one. No one is on the side of the Boreen Men.’
‘Maybe you should stop feeling so sorry for yourself,’ says Killian.
‘And what do you know about it?’ says Malone. ‘What do you know about what we went through with the Lock Out?’
‘Oh, give over,’ says Killian. ‘Are you just gonna keep harping on about history from now till forever? What good’s that gonna do anyone?’
‘And you’d be happy to just forget! Exactly what those bastards in the Castle want – Fortflay would love us to lie down like dumb dogs and do as he says. Well, I won’t! Not for him nor anybody else.’
The House of Mountfathom Page 20
