John Lenahan - Prince of Hazel and Oak

‘I’m going to use them to cure my father.’

‘Cure him? Of what?’

I didn’t really want to tell him, but I didn’t have the strength to lie so I explained about Dad reattaching his hand and how that same hand was killing him. Red’s reaction surprised me. For the first time since I met him he looked truly interested.

‘And what makes you think red eels will help?’

‘Have you ever heard of the Grey Ones?’

‘Oh,’ Red said, ‘I remember the Grey Ones.’

‘I found an old manuscript that told of the Grey Ones’ search for the blood of the red eels.’

Red was agitated and on his feet. ‘This manuscript said red eels?’

‘No, that’s the translation into the common tongue. The scroll said they were searching for the blood of tughe tine. We came here ’cause a Pooka once called this place Tughe Tine Isle.’

Red placed both of his hands over his mouth to cover his surprise then threw his head back and began to laugh. If anyone else had done this it would have looked like they were losing it but with Red it strangely made him, for the first time, look sane.

‘I should have known.’ He stood and began to walk down the mountain.

‘Wait a minute,’ I said, grabbing him by the arm. Still laughing, he spun around like a rag doll. ‘What should you have known?’

‘I cannot believe I walked halfway up this mountain just so I could find out what you wanted with eels. Thank you for reminding me why I live alone.’ He laughed again but then became angry. ‘For the love of the gods – has The Land gotten so stupid that the Prince of Duir cannot even translate two simple words?’ He grabbed my head with both hands and pulled my face close to his. ‘Tine, my feeble-minded gold miner, does not mean red it means fire and tughe does not mean eel. Do you not have scholars in Duir? Have you never heard of the Hall of Knowledge?’

‘The Hall of Knowledge is gone.’

‘Gone? What do you mean gone?’

‘It was destroyed.’

Red grabbed me by my shirt and spun me to the left. I lost my footing and he fell on top of me still pulling my shirt with both fists. ‘What have you done?’ he said with fire in his eyes.

‘I didn’t do anything. I lost my grandfather there.’

Red let me go, stood and started back down the path. ‘I cannot help you,’ he said without turning around.

I chased after him. ‘What does it mean? What does tughe mean?’ I placed my hand on his shoulder. He stopped but didn’t face me.

‘It means… worm. Now leave my island.’ He strode down the path with his arms outstretched, brushing the gorse bushes. As he did, they closed behind him. We couldn’t have followed even if we wanted to.

The rest of the gang, mouths open, were on their feet.

‘Does anyone know what just happened?’ I asked.

It took a while before the gorse bushes let us pass. There was little talking on the way back. For the most part we concentrated on not plummeting.

Back at The Digs I volunteered to hike down to the beach and scrounge for driftwood. Tuan agreed to come with me and help persuade some fish to be our main course.

‘What do we do now?’ Tuan asked as we weaved our way through the gorse. ‘Should we start digging for smoking worms?’

‘I have no idea what to do.’

‘Oh, that’s not good. Conor, you are our ideas man.’

I made a guttural sound. It was meant to be a laugh but by the time it made it out of my mouth it was a pitiful grunt of a broken spirit. ‘Well, start thinking up your own ideas, ’cause I’m fresh out.’

Tuan wisely didn’t say anything else during our walk. I didn’t blame him, even I wasn’t happy with my own company. What the hell was I doing here? What if Red never comes back? What if this whole thing was a giant goose chase? What if Dad dies while I’m shipwrecked out here and I don’t even get a chance to say good-bye?

My mood was no better back at The Digs in front of a roaring fire. When Brendan sat down next to me he had that look on his face, like he was going to bestow a pearl of wisdom.

Before he could open his mouth I said, ‘Shut up.’

‘Well, it looks like someone forgot to put on his feathered underwear today.’

‘I got them on, Brendan, they’re just damp – like everything else in my life. Leave me alone will you.’

‘OK, maybe I’ll just have a game of checkers with my good buddy Turlow. Where is he anyway?’

It wasn’t until the food was ready that we all started asking the same question. We scouted as much of the perimeter as we dared in darkness but The Turlow was gone.

An hour of discussion over a cold dinner couldn’t solve the mystery of what had happened to the Banshee. The only constructive product of the conversation was a plan to search for him at first light.

As I stood from the table I said, ‘Maybe he’s the only one of us with enough sense to abandon this stupid quest.’ No one was disappointed when I went to bed.

Later Brendan sat on the edge of my bunk. ‘Conor, I know about things being so bleak that it seems easier to give up. I’ve been there – but now is not the time.’

‘I know and you’re right,’ I said without opening my eyes. It was exactly what I had been lying there thinking for the last hour. ‘I’m sorry for my foul mood. Do me a favour, apologise to Tuan for me.’

Brendan nodded.

I made the effort and propped myself up on my elbows. ‘I’m not giving up, Brendan. I’m just tired and scratched to hell and cold and

… and too tired to even finish this sentence. We’ve been at this for a long time. I’m going to rest tonight – tomorrow I’ll figure out how to save The Land.’ I attempted a smile. ‘I’ve done it before you know.’

I dropped my head back on my pillow with that thought on my mind. Sure I saved The Land once before but I had my dad with me then – without him I just didn’t have a clue.

‘Tomorrow,’ I said, not even knowing if Brendan was still there. ‘Things will all become clear tomorrow.’

Little did I know how prophetic that sentence would be.

That night was full of fits and starts punctuated by vivid and cryptic dreams. It seemed that the more experienced I became with dreaming the less understandable they were. I had almost given up trying to decipher any meaning in them. That night I dreamt I was in a mayonnaise jar filled with little smoking red-faced worms. I stabbed a tiny red earthworm and he slid away with the Lawnmower. In another dream the invisible man was back. During a phase of amateur psychoanalysis I had decided that the invisible man was me, but in this vision I dreamt that the invisible man was skulking around stealing stuff and I thought maybe it was Red. Red did have a creepy habit of sneaking up on us. I woke in the darkness and listened – nothing. I reached under my bed and strapped on the Sword of Duir then fell back into a fitful sleep. The last dream I had that night would have, under normal circumstances, shot me right out of bed. The invisible man pulled up a chair next to my bunk and stuck something into my shoulder. Then he reached to his collar and removed an amulet from around his neck – instantly he became visible.

When I opened my eyes I knew exactly what had been done to me? I didn’t have to wonder. Once you have had one of my Aunt Nieve’s paralysing pins stuck in your neck, you don’t forget the sensation. This pin wasn’t actually in my neck; it was in the top of my shoulder. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to turn my head when I heard Turlow’s voice.

‘How do you spell butcher?’

Just like in my dream, Turlow was sitting in a chair next to my bed with his legs crossed as he casually wrote onto an emain slate.