John Lenahan - Shadowmagic

The landscape was green and rolling, sprinkled with the odd tree here and there. The day was warm and pleasant. The Land was in the height of summer. It made me wonder how spectacular the autumn must be.

Since it seemed we weren’t being followed, we rode in pairs and talked freely. Essa had lightened up-a bit. She told me we were not taking the most direct route to the Reedlands, so as to avoid castles and villages. We would be travelling all day in the Eastlands-the so-called No-rune Lands-and tonight we would camp on the edge of the Hazellands.

‘The Hazellands?’ I said. ‘You mean my mother’s home?’

‘Yes. The shortest path is through Castle Cull.’

‘Castle Cull? You mean the Hall of Knowledge?’

‘Yes.’

‘Wasn’t it destroyed?’

‘It was, my father told me to avoid it, but I want to see…’

‘Where your brother died.’

Her head snapped around and she had a fierce look in her eyes. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Your father told me. I’m sorry-it must be awful to lose a brother.’

Her face softened. ‘He left to study at Cull when I was very young. He sent me a letter every week telling me all the gossip from the Hall of Knowledge. I so desperately wanted to study there when I grew up. He used to write quite a bit about your mother, he was very fond of her.’

‘Does anyone know what happened?’

‘No. Your grandfather Finn called a meeting of the Runelords. Ona was going to try to find out who (or what) destroyed Cull, but the night before the runecasting she died in her sleep.’

‘My father accused Cialtie of killing Ona.’

‘What did Cialtie say?’

‘He didn’t deny it.’

‘The more I hear about this uncle of yours-the less I like him.’

‘Well, I certainly took an instant dislike to him.’

‘I’ll leave it up to you, Conor, should we go to the Hall of Knowledge and see for ourselves?’

‘I think we should.’

She smiled. A weak smile, but a smile nonetheless, the first one I had seen on her face since the party.

Fergal yelled, ‘Cherries!’ and broke into a gallop.

Araf and Essa kicked into a gallop and Acorn followed suit, and I almost fell off his back. Once I got used to the terrifying speed I found that galloping was the smoothest ride of all. Acorn seemed to almost float in the air as I pumped my arms in rhythm to his bouncing head. Ahead, the others had stopped in front of an orchard of cherry trees. Acorn stopped next to them and I nearly went over his head again. (The riding part, I was getting good at-it was the stopping, turning and starting I was having trouble with.) Fergal reached up, picked a fruit and popped it in his mouth.

‘You didn’t ask permission,’ I said.

‘You don’t have to with cherries,’ Fergal mumbled, and then spat out a pip. ‘Cherries are the friendliest trees in The Land. They love getting picked. It’s like you are doing them a favour.’

As we walked our horses through the grove, the trees lowered their branches to us, and we picked and ate to our hearts’ content. Some trees even dropped cherries on me. They were delicious. Araf filled his hat and I stuffed as many in my saddlebag as I could fit. The feeling of welcome among these trees was overwhelming, and when we left I could sense that they wanted us to take even more.

That night around the campfire Fergal told me why he wanted to see Deirdre. ‘I want to find out who I am,’ he said. ‘I was raised by a woman called Breithe-she was Araf’s nanny. As you can see I am not an Imp. Breithe knew who my real parents were, she promised to tell me all when I reached Rune-age. She died before she could tell me.’

‘How did she die?’

‘She went out foraging for mushrooms and ate a poisonous one. A lifetime of mushroom picking-I can’t imagine how she could have made such a mistake. She was a good woman.’

‘I’m sorry for you both,’ I said.

Araf nodded.

‘So that is why I want to see Deirdre,’ Fergal concluded. ‘I hope she can use her magic to tell me who I am and where I came from.’

‘I hope so too,’ I said.

Essa took the first watch. I was asleep the moment my head hit the ground.

I dreamt I was in a rainstorm but it wasn’t raining water, it was raining cherries. I put my arms out to my side and lent my head back and caught cherry after cherry in my mouth. I looked and saw Fergal doing the same. Scores of cherries were pouring into his mouth, and as he tried to chew them the dark red juice poured out of his mouth. I awoke with that image in my eyes.

Essa woke me-it was my watch. She had just closed her eyes when I saw a light approach. It was erratic, like someone running with a candle. As it got closer I saw that no one was holding it; an incredibly bright light just floated in the air and it was coming directly for us. I shook Essa and pointed.

She sat up alert and then laughed. ‘Conor, haven’t you ever seen a firefly before?’

‘Not like that. That’s a flying sixty-watt light bulb.’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about but it’s just a firefly. Look.’

She closed her eyes and whispered, ‘Lamprog.’ It flew straight to her and lit her face.

‘I used to do this when I was a little girl.’ The firefly flew into her cupped hands, she whispered to it and it fluttered into her hair and sat there like a magic jewel.

‘Good night, Conor.’ She put her head down and closed her eyes. The firefly stayed in place and illuminated the side of her face.

‘You must have been a lovely little girl,’ I said.

She didn’t open her eyes but she smiled and said, ‘I was.’

The firefly stayed there until her breathing became regular and then flew off, I imagined, to find a proper little girl.

The next morning, we had travelled for less than an hour when we reached the border of the Hazellands. You could actually see it on the ground. One step was green and alive, the next was brown and dead. Acorn was hesitant to cross the line. We travelled in silence and saw nothing alive. I had seen drought-stricken land before, but this was worse-it was as if the life force of the place was gone and nothing had the will to survive.

Araf was in front. He crested a hill, stopped and dismounted. Actually to say he dismounted is being generous, he almost fell out of his saddle. He stared at the landscape ahead of him and dropped to his knees. I crested the hill and saw what he had seen. A huge field as far as the eye could see was blackened with ash and burnt crops.

‘Oh my gods,’ I heard from behind me. It was Fergal. ‘Is that the Field?’

Araf nodded without looking up.

‘What is so special about this field?’ I asked.

‘They studied everything at the Hall,’ Fergal explained, ‘even farming. This was a special garden where the Imp students would try new things. It was supposed to be beautiful. Araf lost a cousin here.’

I dismounted and put my hand on Araf’s shoulder. ‘Sorry,’ I said. It didn’t seem enough but he placed his hand on mine in thanks.

This was the true beginning of the desecration of the Hazellands. Before, everything was just dead; here as I got closer to the Hall, I could see the deliberate destruction. Hazel bushes were torched, and worst of all, we saw an apple tree cut down and left to rot. It made me feel ill. As the top of the Hall started to come into view, Acorn got very jittery. He sidestepped, whinnied and stopped unexpectedly. I got the impression that Acorn had memories of this place and they were not pleasant ones. I toyed with the idea of getting down and walking. I wish I had. Just as I crested a rise and received my first full view of the ruins of the Hall of Knowledge, we startled a flock of ravens. For hours the Hazellands had been completely lifeless, and this explosion of squawking and beating wings was too much for Acorn-he bolted.