The Shadowmagic Trilogy. John Lenahan

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      ‘It only works with relatives,’ I said, without thinking.

      ‘What?’

      Me and my big mouth – ah, what the hell, we’d probably be dead soon anyway. ‘My mother told me that my protective spell only works with relatives. So, Fergal, I guess that means you and I are related somehow. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before but I wanted to talk to my parents about it.’

      ‘So you and I are blood relatives?’

      ‘I think so.’

      ‘Like cousins?’

      ‘Maybe.’

      ‘I never had a cousin,’ he said.

      ‘Me neither.’

      ‘I’d like it, Conor, if you really were my cousin,’ he said, flashing me one of his famous Fergal smiles.

      ‘Me too.’

      The closer we got, the worse it looked. These thorns were more menacing that the ones bordering the Hazellands. Araf and Essa had dismounted by the time we caught up.

      ‘This is not a good thing,’ I repeated.

      ‘There are only two options,’ Araf said. ‘We try to make it through the swamp or we stand and fight.’

      Fergal got down and went to the edge of the path. It was definitely not a pretty swamp. The water was black, and choked with unhealthy-looking white roots and reeds, pale imitations of real vegetation. Fergal took a rope out of his pack, tied it around his waist and handed the other end to me.

      ‘This is not a good thing,’ he said and smiled.

      ‘I’ll keep a good hold on this end – cousin.’

      He didn’t hesitate, he just jumped right in. I thought it was the bravest thing I had ever seen. I had an instant vision of him disappearing under the black ooze and never being seen again, but the water only came up to his waist. The stench that wafted up from the disturbed water almost made me retch – how Fergal didn’t lose his lunch I will never know.

      ‘The footing on the bottom seems pretty solid,’ he shouted. ‘If you can stand the smell I think it might work.’

      So my choice was: fight to almost certain death, or go in there. It smelt so bad I was still leaning towards stand and fight when my mind was made up for me. All of the vines and roots in the water were converging on Fergal.

      ‘Fergal, get out!’ I yelled.

      I didn’t have to ask him twice, I think he could sense that something was wrong. He got to the bank before the vegetation took hold. The vines that had been creeping up on him seemed to realise that he was trying to escape. They wrapped around him with the speed of a striking snake. He was dragged back into the water with such force, I was almost pulled from my saddle. Araf and Essa ran to the edge of the swamp. Fergal went under. I wrapped the rope around the pommel of my saddle and told Acorn to pull. Sometimes Acorn could give me a hard time, but when the chips were down, I had no better friend. Acorn pulled and Fergal broke the surface with his Banshee blade in hand. He hacked and scrambled onto the road, spluttering, sore and stinky – but unharmed. I jumped off Acorn.

      ‘Are you alright?’

      He nodded, trying to get back his breath.

      ‘I thought I lost you there,’ I said and hugged him. Boy, did he stink.

      Araf and Essa started digging a shallow gutter. For a moment I wondered if it was our graves. They ripped buttons off their clothes and threw them into the trench.

      ‘Do either of you have any gold?’ Essa asked.

      ‘No,’ I said, ‘my mother gave me an amulet but I used it.’

      ‘I have some,’ Fergal said, getting to his feet.

      He took off his shirt and removed the gold wire that held his Banshee blade in place and handed it to Essa. Her eyes lit up.

      ‘Perfect!’ she exclaimed, and kissed Fergal on the cheek. From the look on her face you could tell that she instantly regretted it. Other than not dying, getting Fergal into a bath was our top priority.

      Essa and Araf stretched the gold wire along the trench along with the gold buttons. Essa dropped to one knee and incanted a spell that caused the gold to glow and then hum. She stood up, sighed and then she and Araf covered the gold over with earth.

      ‘This should take care of the arrows for a time,’ she said.

      ‘And then what?’ I said, and instantly regretted it. We weren’t going to make it through this. ‘There has to be a way through these blackthorns,’ I said, drawing my sword.

      Araf was on me in a second. I am always amazed at how fast that Imp can move. He took the sword out of my hand. ‘Don’t,’ he said, ‘you would not last a heartbeat.’

      ‘Well, at least let me talk to them.’

      ‘Go ahead, but it will do no good.’

      I’ve mentioned before, communicating with a tree is a wonderful experience – most trees, that is. A conversation with a blackthorn is like trying to talk your way past a junkyard dog. It’s just no good. The spikes bore down on me as I touched a branch.

      ‘You have to the count of ten before I run you through!’ The voice of the tree exploded in my head.

      ‘Ten!’

      ‘You have got to let us in!’ I pleaded.

      ‘Nine!’

      ‘I’ll buy you some plant food.’

      ‘Eight!’

      ‘We’re gonna die out here!’

      ‘Seven, six …’

      ‘I have to see Deirdre!’

      ‘Five, four …’

      ‘She’s my mother!’

      For a second I could have sworn the countdown stopped – then …

      ‘Three, two …’

      I backed off. I didn’t want to find out what happened after One. I have no doubt that that tree would have enjoyed perforating me.

      I turned back to the others, expecting to see them busying themselves with some sort of plan, but they were just standing there.

      ‘The thorns won’t let us pass,’ I said. ‘What do we do now?’

      After a long pause, Araf said, ‘Surrender.’

      ‘What!’

      ‘We СКАЧАТЬ