John Lenahan - Shadowmagic

I didn’t think anything could be scarier than standing in front of a charging boar-I was wrong. Acorn was breaking all known horsey speed limits and I was powerless to stop or even influence the beast.

I was flying past some outbuildings of the Castle when I heard Fergal come up on my left yelling. Boy, we were moving fast. He reached over to grab my reins, but he didn’t make it. He never saw what happened-I did. As we galloped between two burnt-out buildings, I saw a thick rope pop up and stretch across our path. It was too low to duck. I only had time to think, This is going to hurt. It did.

I awoke tied to a pillar inside a roofless ruin of a room. This waking up in bondage and pain was getting old real fast. Fergal was tied to the next pillar over. His chin was on his chest and his eyes were closed.

‘Fergal,’ I said in a loud whisper. He popped his head up.

‘Conor! You’re awake. Are you OK? What the hell happened?’

‘I’m alright, at least as alright as I can be in this godforsaken place. The last thing I remember, we got clotheslined.’

‘That explains why I hurt so much.’

‘Hey, do you have your Banshee blade?’

‘No, they must have taken it.’

‘Where are the others?’ I asked.

‘I haven’t seen them.’

‘Have you seen anybody?’

‘When I came to, some short guy was tying you up. He was a Leprechaun, I think.’

‘A Leprechaun? You mean a little guy with a beard and a green suit?’ I chuckled to myself and then started laughing.

‘I don’t think he was wearing green,’ Fergal said. That only made me laugh louder. ‘Conor, are you OK?’

I thought about this question for a moment, and all of the humour left me. ‘No, I am not OK!’ I spat. ‘I had a perfectly good life. It may not have been exciting or important, but it was a good life. No one hit me, or made me ride horses, or knocked me off horses, or wanted me dead, or made me sleep outside at night or…or…ANYTHING! The only thing I had to do was homework-which I will never complain about again for as long as I live. Which is probably about five more minutes, because everybody wants me DEAD!’ I was babbling now. ‘HEY, WHY DON’T YOU JUST GET IN HERE AND FINISH ME OFF!’ I screamed.

‘Quiet, Conor.’

‘Why? What difference does it make? It’s not like they don’t know we are in here-they tied us up, for God’s sake. And who are they anyway? WHO ARE YOU? GET YOUR BUTTS IN HERE AND UNTIE ME!’

Well, whoever they were, it got their attention. A very short man with a beard came into view from behind me. It was disappointing that he didn’t have a green outfit and a pointed hat, because if he did he would have been the spitting image of one of Snow White’s dwarfs. He was followed by a bulkier guy who had to be an Imp.

‘Is this the Leprechaun you told me about?’ I asked Fergal.

He nodded yes.

‘Hello, Mr Leprechaun,’ I said. ‘Top of the morning to you. For my first wish I’d like a chocolate sundae with a cherry on…’

‘Silence!’ the little beardy guy shouted.

‘OK,’ I said, ‘how about I cut to my favourite wish-I’d like: me untied, you boiling in oil and don’t forget to leave me that pot of gold.’

The Imp handed Beardy Guy my sword. ‘Is this yours?’

‘It looks like it’s yours now. You know-finders keepers.’

He crouched close and placed the edge of the sword at my throat. ‘I’ll ask you again.’ I could smell his breath and it wasn’t pleasant. ‘Where did you get this sword?’

I looked him in the eye and said, ‘Do it. Cut my throat. Get it over with. I’m tired of being tied up and threatened. Just kill me and then-LEAVE ME ALONE!’

I actually scared him when I shouted. It made him jump up and back off. He turned to Fergal and pointed my sword at him. ‘Who are you?’

‘I am Fergal of Ur.’

‘Ur! Well, what do you know,’ he said sarcastically to the bigger guy, ‘a fellow Imp.’ He put the blade to his throat. ‘Start speaking the truth, Banshee, or you won’t be able to speak at all.’

‘Leave him alone,’ I said. I was just about to say it again, when I heard a voice behind me say the same thing.

‘Leave him alone!’

I didn’t recognise the voice right away because I actually hadn’t heard it that much.

‘Who are you?’ the Leprechaun said. His question was answered by his Imp partner.

‘Prince Araf!’

Sure enough it was Old Chatty himself. He strode in, followed by Essa and a horde of confused Imps.

‘Untie my companions,’ he demanded.

The Imp made a move to do just that but the Leprechaun stopped him.

‘Hey, Leprechaun guy,’ I said. ‘Don’t make Araf repeat himself, he’s not fond of saying things the first time.’

Araf and Beardy stared at each other for a while. It was a struggle as fierce as any sword fight. At last Beardy gave in and nodded to his Imp, who untied us.

We stood and joined Araf and Essa. I whispered to Fergal, ‘Prince Araf?’

‘Yeah, Araf is the heir to the throne of Ur. Didn’t he tell you that?’

‘He babbles on so, I guess I just missed it.’

I approached the Leprechaun. ‘Can I have my sword back, please?’

He reluctantly handed it to me and said, ‘I would still like to know who you are and where you got this.’

‘The business of my companions,’ Araf stated, ‘is of no concern to you. What is of concern to me, is who you are and why so many of my kinsmen are here.’

The stare-down started again. Finally the Leprechaun said, ‘Lord Araf, if I may speak with you alone?’

‘Anything you wish to say, you may say in front of my comrades.’

This provoked another staring contest. At this rate we were going to be here all day. ‘Very well. May I invite you all to join me in my headquarters for tea?’

Araf nodded.

‘You wouldn’t have any of that willow stuff, would you?’ I asked.

It wasn’t until I got outside that I realised where we were-in the ruins of the Hall of Knowledge. The first thing I saw was a lone standing wall with a beautiful yellow and blue stained-glass window in it. The window depicted a woman sitting in the middle of a willowy tree. Amid all of the destruction it was amazing that the glass had survived.

As we walked, Imps and Leprechauns peeked around corners tying to get a glimpse of the strangers. Beardy’s headquarters had obviously once been part of the Great Library. Gerard had told me that the Library was a circular room surrounding a courtyard. What was left of it made my blood boil. I don’t even like it when someone folds down the corner of a cheap paperback-here, heaped around the room, were towers of partly burnt books and piles of scorched manuscript pieces. The bookshelves that were still intact were blackened with soot. Who could do this to a library?

Essa spoke first. ‘You are trying to save some of the manuscripts, I see.’

‘That was not our intention,’ Beardy said, ‘but none of us could stand to see it like this, so I have delegated a handful of people to try to make as much order of the books as they can.’

‘What is your intention here?’ Araf asked.

Beardy straightened and thought for a moment. I recognised the look. I’m sure I had worn it quite a bit recently-it was the look of someone who was deciding whether to tell the truth or not.

‘I am Lorcan.’

‘Lorcan the Leprechaun?’ I blurted out and laughed. Lorcan and the others gave me a dirty look and I instantly apologised.

‘I am Lorcan, I was chief engineer in the mines of Duir. Three years ago I asked Lord Cialtie what he was doing with all of the gold, now that he had stopped the allowance to most of the Runelords. For an answer he imprisoned my wife in his tower and told me that the next time I had the audacity to ask questions, she would die. Over the next two years I smuggled gold out to the Runelords that had been cut off, and planned a rescue of my wife. I had not seen her for months, and when I finally gained access to the tower, she was not there. I learned that my wife had been killed a month before, defending a fellow prisoner. No one had told me.’ He paused and then forced himself on. ‘I knew that Cialtie would find out I had been there, so I escaped. Ever since I have been organising this secret fighting force. We call ourselves the Army of the Red Hand. Our goal is to dethrone Cialtie.’