John Lenahan - Prince of Hazel and Oak

I dug in my spikes and passed Brendan as he was trying to stand up. Spideog ran straight towards the Brownies, whom I expected at any second to shoot us but instead they just stood there looking bemused. I reached hard ice-free ground not long after the old guy. We both grabbed the rope attached to Brendan and dragged him to safety. I was just about to switch grips to the rope that went from me to Araf when I was pulled sideways off my feet and back onto the ice. As my head smacked onto the cold floor I saw the terrifying image of the Imp prince sliding off the side of the mountain. Araf let out a squeal like a little girl while I dug all ten of my fingernails into the frozen water desperately trying to get any purchase on the sliding ice.

The rope around my waist pushed all of the air out of my lungs as it pulled tight. Brendan and Spideog were on the hard ground and had a good hold of my rope but the pull from Araf’s weight was almost cutting me in half. The ice sheet slid past me and rained down on my poor bodyguard. I could feel the impact of every block of ice as it smashed into the Imp, who grunted with every blow. I just hoped his rope would hold.

When the frozen waterfall finished the only bit of ice left on the trail was below me. I rolled to my left and planted my heels into the hard stone.

‘Araf,’ I yelled, ‘are you all right?’

There was no answer for two long seconds then I heard him say, ‘I would appreciate it, Conor, if you could pull me up from here.’

Apparently Araf’s mother had told him to always be polite even when he was hanging off a fatal precipice attached to a bit of string.

After getting him on solid ground, Araf gave me an uncharacteristic emotional hug that made us both fall over. The two Brownies stared down at us with strange grins.

‘Thanks for the help, boys,’ I said. ‘We couldn’t have done it without you.’

That seemed to bemuse them and I made a mental note to leave sarcasm out of any future Brownie communications.

‘Now,’ I said, getting to my feet, ‘I’d like to see this Oracle of yours.’

‘Yes,’ the taller of the two said, ‘but will he want to see you?’

The Yew House was the most un-Tir na Nogian thing I had seen in The Land. The all-wood facade and shuttered windows made it look like some Malibu beach house you would see on a TV show about the rich and famous. The Brownies wordlessly escorted us onto the porch then told us to wait. Unlike a Californian beach house the porch didn’t have any furniture so we sat on the steps. Ages later the Brownies re-emerged and one announced that only ‘the Son of Duir’ might enter.

I was tired and I had recently almost fallen off a cliff and these guys were starting to tick me off, so I didn’t even stand up. I just said, ‘Nope.’

The Brownie looked beyond confused. ‘I do not understand,’ he said.

‘Either we all go in or we leave,’ I said, standing.

Poor Brownie guy, he looked so befuddled I had an image of his head popping off his shoulders and a bunch of spring works and cogs shooting out of his neck. ‘Only the Son of Duir,’ he repeated.

‘So be it; let’s go, guys.’ I turned and started down the mountain. My companions just stared at me.

‘Are we playing a bit of poker here?’ Brendan asked, in English.

‘Of course,’ I replied in the same language, ‘you think I’m gonna hump all the way up this hill and not get any answers? Let’s just see how much he wants to see me.’

Brendan nodded and put his arm on Spideog’s and Araf’s shoulders and said, ‘All right, let’s go.’ The boys started to object, there is obviously no Texas Hold-um in The Land. Brendan pushed them off the porch, ‘You heard the boss, come on.’

‘Wait,’ came a squeaky sound out of the Brownie, ‘wait here.’

He scurried into the Yew House. I sat on the bottom step suppressing the impulse of making them chase us down the trail.

Ten minutes later I was still trying to explain to Araf the subtleties of bluffing.

‘You mean lying,’ he said.

‘It’s not lying, it’s saying an untruth in order to make your opponent give in to you,’ I expounded.

‘It still sounds like lying.’

‘Well, I think we should try a little poker, Araf. I bet you would be quite good at it.’

‘I don’t lie.’

‘It’s not lying, it’s bluffing!’

Our Brownie messenger came onto the porch, saving Araf and me from going around that circle again. Now that he had new instructions he looked much more composed. ‘You may all enter but only the Son of Duir may speak.’

I felt like saying no deal again and sending him back inside but it was getting cold. ‘Is that all right with you guys?’

Brendan spoke in English again. ‘If I want to say something once I get in there – who’s gonna stop me?’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ I said. ‘Spideog, are you OK with this?’

The archer nodded but I could see he didn’t like it.

‘Araf, do you think you can manage not talking for a while?’ I smiled at him but he gave nothing back. u can always count on Araf.

I nodded to the Brownie, who looked very relieved that he didn’t have to face his master again with a problem. He motioned for us to follow and pushed open the double doors. Two other Brownies were waiting inside the entrance of a surprisingly long hallway. They fell into step on either side of us. The Yew House it seems was just a front; the dwelling was carved directly into the mountain. As we walked, our footsteps echoed in the lengthy and increasingly dark corridor.

Brendan leaned over my shoulder and said, ‘Well, Dorothy, what are you going to ask the wizard for?’

A large carving of Eioho, the Yew Rune, marked the end of the stone hallway. To the right a couple of Brownies opened two wooden doors and gestured for us to enter; they didn’t follow and closed the doors behind us. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the light. The high vaulted ceiling had glass discs inset into the stone which put out as much light as any electric fixture in the Real World. The light bounced dramatically off the black seamless polished marble floors that I assumed to be the stone the mountain was made of. The walls were panelled with yew wood. Mom had told me about how difficult it was for her to earn the tiny wand she received from a yew tree – it made me wonder what kind of power the builder of this house must have. As my eyes adjusted I saw the Oracle in the centre of the room. He was seated in a huge chair, or I guess I should call it a throne, made from the severed trunk of a yew tree – its roots spread out at the bottom like the appendages of a starfish. The discs from the ceiling spewed tight beams of light all around but not directly on him. He wore plain black robes that rippled in the cool breeze. His face was illuminated from the reflection off the black marble. It gave the same appearance as when a boy scout puts a flashlight under his chin to tell a spooky story around a campfire. The room went on for a distance that I could not make out. No one spoke for ages.

I’m not good with uncomfortable silences, so I broke it. ‘Nice digs you got here.’

‘The Son of the One-Handed Prince,’ he said in a whispery voice that seemed as if it was unused to speaking. ‘I have heard about you.’

‘What did you hear?’

‘I have heard that you are impertinent.’

‘Yeah, I get that a lot. Have you heard anything good about me?’ There was no reply so I continued. ‘By the way, I’m no longer the Son of the One-Handed Prince.’

‘Are you saying Ona was wrong?’

‘No, Ona’s prophecy was spot on but it wasn’t about me. It was about Fergal of Ur – Cialtie’s son.’

‘Cialtie has no son.’

For the first time I saw a movement in the back of the room. It was hard to see in this light but it looked like there was a hooded figure towards the back of it.