John Lenahan - Prince of Hazel and Oak

‘You are glowing.’

‘I know,’ she said, spinning around. ‘Do you like it?’

‘You are radiant,’ I replied, ‘in every way.’

She pointed over my shoulder, ‘From what you have told me I think this beach is close to your home. I will miss you, Conor.’

‘You’re not coming ashore?’

‘No, matron needs me back at the grotto.’

‘You’re gonna be in a whole mess of trouble back there. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?’

‘No one can stay mad at me, Conor – I am too dumb.’

‘Maybe,’ I said, ‘they can’t stay mad at you ’cause you’re so wonderful.’

She kissed me and as she did we dropped below the surface. If you’re looking to add things to your list of top ten, all-time best experiences I highly recommend kissing a mermaid underwater. She pulled back from me and those (getting less creepy) gills appeared and even though she was underwater I could have sworn there was also a tear in her eye. She turned and disappeared into the gloom of the sea.

I swam to the shore, almost drowning when my robe dragged me under. (I was sure I told it to float.) I thought about Graysea. I think she would have come if I pushed her but, to be honest, I really didn’t want her with me. I was going into such uncertainty – I didn’t want to subject my innocent glowing angel to that kind of danger and chaos. I could almost imagine her standing in the middle of a battlefield saying, ‘Why is everyone being so mean to each other?’ It was better that she was with matron back in her grotto. I just hoped she didn’t catch too much grief for helping me escape and giving me the dragon’s blood. I was also glad I didn’t have to explain her to Essa.

Of course I couldn’t be sure that Essa and Yogi got out of the Alderlands alive. For that matter, I couldn’t be sure that any of my loved ones were safe. I started to fret over all the time that I had lost and swam harder. My robe increased its buoyancy and I body-boarded the surf right onto the shore. The sun was newly up as I stood on the beach and rubbed the stinging saltwater out of my eyes with the sleeve of my warm insta-dry robe. I looked around and what I saw almost made my already queasy stomach bring up everything I had ever eaten. I was in the Reedlands.

There was no mistaking the foul vegetation. This was the land that had been created when Cialtie had first taken his Choosing. The last time I had been here Fergal had almost been drawn and quartered by living vines and a band of feral Banshees (the same ones who had destroyed the Heatherlands) had used me and my friends for archery practice.

A shout to my left made me scamper into a mangle of trees, the like I had only ever seen in B-grade horror movies with names like The Re-return of the Swamp Creature. The trees didn’t provide much cover but I might not have been spotted if I hadn’t then instructed my robe to darken so as to blend in with the vegetation. As the troop of soldiers came towards me, my annoyingly disobedient robe went practically fluorescent orage. Then, when I tried to run, I found that some vines had wrapped around my ankles – I couldn’t have gotten away even if there had been anywhere to go. As they came closer I noticed that they were Brownies and the one at the front was an old acquaintance of mine. He stepped right up to me wearing a smug smile that only a Brownie mother could love.

‘Hi, Frank,’ I said. ‘Did you get the knife I sent you?’

The soldier’s uniform did nothing to make the Brownie prince look any older than the kid I had reprimanded for stealing my shoes so many months before. He pointed to his ankle where a sheath held the green-handled throwing knife to his leg.

‘Yeah, I did,’ he said and as a thank you, he clocked me in the head with his banta stick.

There are many times when little situations remind me of how much I miss Fergal. I must say that waking from a concussion tied to a post was much more fun with my cousin bound to the one next to me.

At least this place was a cut above my usual stinky dungeon. I was tied to the centre pole of a pretty opulent tent. This was no travelling structure, or if it was, then somebody was doing some serious heavy lifting. There was a full oak-framed bed in the corner, a complete eight-seat dining table set, and an office desk adorned with a collection of peacock quill pens. When the occupant of these posh digs came into the tent I wasn’t surprised. I was expecting him. He stood in front of me with his right wrist tucked into his shirt like Napoleon. On his face he wore a smirk that made me want to slap him, but then, all of his expressions make me want to do that.

‘Hello, Uncle, I was so worried that we weren’t going to get to meet this trip. You know how difficult it is finding time to see all of one’s relatives.’

I had been practising that line for the entire time I had been waiting for Cialtie to arrive. I hoped that the bravado of it would hide the bowel-clenching fear that was ripping through my body.

‘Why are you here and how did you get here?’

‘I was hoping to borrow some money for university. You know Dad, he’s such a skinflint. Why he won’t even pay for-’

A backhand across my face shut me up. While I fought to remain conscious I said, ‘I could have sworn uncles are supposed to give you hugs and kisses when they see you.’

‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ I said. The time for jokes was over. ‘In fact I think that is exactly what you want to do. I think that this interrogation is an annoyance. I think what you really want to do is kill the nephew that made you a lefty. Am I right?’

Cialtie took his wrist from his shirt and with his remaining hand scratched the stump that I had created. Then he dragged a chair from across the room and sat down in front of me. ‘You think me a monster.’

‘No, monsters have no choice, that’s just the way they are. I think you are a demon.’

This brought a look of incredulity to my uncle’s face. ‘You think I have choice? You think any of us has choice? You of all people should know that we are all just pawns of Ona’s prophecies.’

‘Oh don’t make me sick. You killed your son, my cousin, my friend. You. You did that. Don’t you dare try to pass off that responsibility to some old fortune teller.’

‘Old fortune teller?’ Cialtie laughed. ‘You have no idea, have you?’ He stood and walked over to his desk. From his pocket he took a key and opened a golden box, from which he took a leather-bound manuscript. He sat down again and placed the book at my feet. ‘These are Ona’s predictions. She was truly omniscient – we have no choice but to do what she knew must be done.’

‘Is that why you killed her, to get that book?’

‘No. I had the book before I killed her.’

‘You sound proud of yourself.’

‘No, not proud, only… resigned. When I had seen only twenty summers, I stole into Ona’s room and found this book. As if guided by fate I opened it to the page that foretold my ultimate destiny. When I looked up Ona was standing beside me. She told me that if she were to be allowed to leave that she would tell my father what I had done and he would banish me. Then she took the book and opened it to the page that foretold her death. She handed the book to me and lay down on the bed. As I stood over her she handed me a pillow and I smothered her – just as she had written. There was none of your precious choice.’

‘You could have chosen not to kill her.’

‘You can think that if it helps you sleep – I know better.’

‘So did Ona tell you to destroy the whole land with your golden circle?’