John Lenahan - Shadowmagic

We camped that night out in the open on the edge of the Eadthlands. Lorcan’s guards sang songs and passed around some sort of Leprechaun brew that made me feel shorter. Mom told tales of the Fili and Shadowmagic. You could see how delighted she was that these things were, by the order of the new king, no longer forbidden. The only one who seemed not to be enjoying himself was Araf. I went over to where he was sitting.

‘You seem awfully quiet tonight,’ I said, ‘and when you seem quiet that’s saying something.’

‘Quiet, yes. That’s the problem,’ he said, staring into his mug of Leprechaun-shine. ‘I often would pray that Fergal would just stop babbling so I could have a chance to think. I never imagined how painful silence could be.’

‘Yeah, I miss him too.’

We sat for a while in painful silence before I said, ‘You know, I can babble on good as anyone.’

And I did. I told him all about the Real World and my life with Dad. How we lived in Ireland and then England before we came to Scranton, Pennsylvania. I explained: TV and shopping malls, soccer and baseball, hamburger joints and airplanes.

When I had finished he said, ‘You have devices that toast bread with a touch of a button and machines that fly? It surely must be a magical place.’

I laughed-then thought-maybe he was right.

I spent the next day riding abreast with Mom. She told me about the history of the Hall of Knowledge, her childhood in the Hazellands and stories of my grandparents. By the time we were ready to camp for our second night, she had just about reached the part where she discovered her home destroyed. The rest of our party sensed the seriousness of our conversation and left us alone.

‘It must have been horrible for you,’ I said. ‘I can’t even imagine what it must have been like.’

‘To be honest, son, I was so consumed by rage, I do not truly remember much. I knew the Fili were the only ones that could help me with my revenge. As it transpired, they did not help me with revenge-only my rage.’

‘Now that you know it was the Banshees from the Reedlands, do you think Cialtie had anything to do with it?’

‘I would be lying if I said that thought did not cross my mind. We know he is capable of terrible things, but he has done one thing for which I am truly grateful. He brought you back to me.’

The next day we rode parallel to the blackthorn wall. The thorns pointed at us in respect to Mom as we passed-a creaky vegetable Mexican wave. When we reached the scorched border of the Hazellands, Mom stopped, dismounted and stared into her former home. She looked lost. I dismounted and stood beside her.

‘Are you OK, Mom?’

‘I have been back here twice,’ she said. Her voice betrayed the slightest of trembles. ‘The last time was with you. We had pressing business then and I performed a Fili concentration trick on myself so as not to think about it. The time before that was when I found it destroyed.’

‘If you want to go back I will ride with you.’

She turned and smiled at me-a pained smile, the same expression I had seen recently in the mirror when I thought of Fergal stealing my shoes.

‘Thank you, son, but no. I have delayed this too long. But first there is something I must do. Lorcan!’ she called to guards who had been waiting a respectful distance away. ‘Bear witness to this.’

Mom stood with her back to the thorns. Lorcan and his men dismounted and stood to attention around her in a semicircle.

Mom drew her yew wand and spoke. ‘By order of Oison, Chooser of the Rune of Duir, I forthwith lift the banishment of the Fili and once again grant all of the peoples of The Land the freedom of the Fililands.’

She touched her wand to the blackthorn wall, incanted and stood back. Nothing happened at first-but then began that spooky creaking sound, the sound that usually means the plant is about to kill you. This time the thorns parted, leaving a huge archway large enough for at least four horsemen to ride abreast.

Although they were standing to attention, Lorcan and his men strained their necks to get the first glimpse of the Fililand in a generation-and a generation is a long time around here. The ominous rowan forest was lush and shadowy-the exact opposite of where we were standing. It took a moment for our eyes to adjust to the dark, green leaf-filtered light. A gasp went though the crowd as Fand appeared. Like some TV magician’s optical illusion, she seemed to appear right out of a tree trunk. Behind her, dozens of other Fili seemed to fade in from nothing.

Fand stopped at the edge of the archway. She looked at Mom and me and said in that soft voice of hers, ‘I have never been outside of the Fililands.’

‘Well then,’ I said. ‘I think it’s about time.’

Fand stepped blinking into the sunlight.

Mom turned to me and said, ‘Prince Conor…’

‘Prince Conor what?’

‘As the senior representative of the House of Duir, announce the queen.’

‘Oh,’ I said, clearing my voice. ‘Ladies and gentlemen and Imps and Leprechauns and whoever else-I give you Her Excellent Royal Highness the Queen of the spookiest folks I have ever met-Fand of the Fili. She’s a great cook too.’

Lorcan and his men saluted and then cheered. Mom looked at me and shook her head.

‘I guess I have to work on this princely stuff.’

‘Yes, you do,’ Mom said with that disapproving look I cultivate.

Mom and Fand embraced. The soldiers broke ranks to shake hands and feel their first Fili.

We all mounted up. Fand rode with Mom, more for emotional support than for Fand’s benefit. A group of Fili jogged along beside us like presidential bodyguards.

The small contingent that Lorcan had left behind had been busy. The stones that had made up the ruined Hall of Knowledge had been stacked as if in preparation for rebuilding. Mom went to work immediately. She helped organise all of the documents that had been found, and insisted, for some reason, that every piece of parchment, no matter how small, should be saved.

That night after dinner I found Fand and Mom in Lorcan’s old headquarters, engrossed with Shadowmagic.

‘I hate to bother you, Fand, but can I borrow my mother for a little while?’

‘Of course, Conor.’

When Mom looked at my face she asked, ‘What is it, Conor?’

‘Come with me, I have a surprise for you.’

I led her out of the room past the wall with the stained-glass window and stopped her before we entered the courtyard.

‘Dahy gave me a hazelwood banta stick that had belonged to Liam.’

‘I remember Father giving that to him. And he gave it to you? That was nice of him.’

‘Yes, it was. The first time I was here I left it behind in the courtyard. I’d like you to see it.’

We turned the corner together. I was shocked at how much it had grown. The last time I had seen it, my staff had sprouted tiny green shoots-now it sported full leaves and had grown almost a foot. Mom dropped to her knees and placed her hand on what once was my weapon. She removed her hands and beamed at me-tears sparkled in her eyes.

‘Lorcan thinks it may be a new Tree of Knowledge,’ I said.

‘He is correct-it is. It is a miracle.’ She hugged me. ‘You, my son, are a miracle.’

‘Aw shucks, Ma-it was nothing.’

If not for the nagging feeling that something was missing, that I knew was the absence of Fergal, the following few days were the happiest I spent in The Land. I helped the Imps and Leprechauns shift rock, organised papers with Mom and even did a little gardening with Araf.

The night before we left to return to Castle Duir I asked Mom if she was going to reopen the Hall of Knowledge.

‘That is not a task for me,’ she said. ‘This is no longer my home. My home was destroyed. That is a job for another. You, perhaps?’