The Shadowmagic Trilogy. John Lenahan

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СКАЧАТЬ rune was placed in a specific order. When she was finished, I couldn’t help thinking how it reminded me of an old chemistry class. There were empty spaces for runes not yet discovered, just like in the Periodic Table of Elements.

      She rubbed one last ball of sap between her palms and told Fergal to extend his hands. In Ogham and then in the common tongue, she said, ‘Fergal of Ur, this is your last chance to back away. Is it your wish to go on?’

      Fergal instantly said, ‘Yes.’ I would have been disappointed with him if he hadn’t, especially when I could see in my mother’s face how much effort it had taken for her to make all of the Shadowrunes.

      She placed the ball of sap into Fergal’s palm and then pressed his hands together. ‘The rune you make, Fergal, will be blank. Only a Choosing in the Hall of Choosing can give you your proper rune, but your Shadowrune will complete the casting.’

      Fergal opened his hands like a book. Deirdre took his rune and placed it in the centre of the pattern – then it began.

      The runes began to glow and then to flame. Not a candlelight flame, but a soft, almost invisible flame like the fire on a gas stove. The flames rolled along the ground between the runes. In some cases the runes repelled the fire, other runes absorbed the flames. After a few minutes, it was clear to see that some runes were joined with others by fire. Mom picked up the flaming runes and rearranged them, so that the runes joined by fire were together. The fire obviously did not burn – this was Shadowfire, not the real thing. When she had finished, Mom had five Shadow-bonfires before her. She sat cross-legged in front of them, her face fixed in concentration, her hands, still burning with Shadowfire, outstretched at her sides. Fergal sat opposite her, unmoving. They were both bathed in the same amber glow. Looking at them, I couldn’t help thinking how different they were from each other – opposites, in fact. Still, these two opposites were locked eye to eye, both bent on the same goal. It sent a chill down my spine.

      Mom waved a hand over a group of flaming runes and its fire increased as the others subsided. The flames grew higher until forms appeared. I began to make out a face and was surprised when I realised it was mine! The vision cleared and I found myself looking into a fiery 3-D movie of Fergal’s life. Around the edge the apparition was a golden blur, but at the heart it was crystal clear. The images ran fast and made no sound, but I heard what was happening in my … soul. Like a conversation with a tree – it surpassed language. It was pure understanding. We watched the whole story of Fergal and my meeting: the shoe theft, the comedy of him knocking me out, the terror of the boar attacks and the courage of our stand against the Banshees in the Reedlands. More than just seeing, I was understanding Fergal, from Fergal’s point of view. I had already decided that he was a good man – not perfect, but worthy of my trust. Now the Shadowmagic confirmed it. Fergal was a true free spirit. I saw that living for him was a joy, and that malice was a waste of his time. I realised then that I loved him – how could I not?

      The images of Fergal and me dimmed as Mom brought up the fire in another set of runes. Visions formed before us of a young (and very cute) Fergal practising sword and banta stick fighting with Araf. Fergal did OK with his swordplay, but never even came close to winning the stick fights.

      Another collection of runes showed Fergal turning down a kiss from a pretty young Imp girl. Not because he didn’t like her, but because he didn’t want her to get teased for kissing a Banshee. It nearly broke my heart.

      Another runefire showed Fergal with his nanny – Breithe. Blissful images of walks in the woods, baths, kisses and being tucked into bed made my heart ache. Fergal may not have known his real parents, but he had the kind of motherly love that I always dreamt about.

      Finally, Deirdre calmed all of the fires except one. This was it, this was the runefire that had the answer. The other fires sputtered and went out as the last group of runes roared with an amber inferno a third higher than the rest. We all leaned in, trying to make sense of the forms. As the vision cleared we saw Breithe! She was washing her hands in a tent. Could that be it? Was Breithe Fergal’s mother? No, Breithe walked to a bed where a heavily pregnant woman screamed in labour. Wild, jet-black hair with a white streak covered her face – she was a Banshee – this was Fergal’s mother. It was the moment of his birth. Breithe was the midwife, but who was the mother?

      The contractions stopped. The Banshee mother fell back into the bed, her face still obscured. Breithe said, ‘It’s almost over, Mná dear,’ and pushed the hair away from the mother’s face. Mná! Dad had just mentioned that name – she was Cialtie’s Banshee sorceress. The one who had bewitched Eth and had made the screaming shell for Cialtie in the race. That’s when the realisation shot through my mind like a lightning bolt – if his mother is Mná, then his father must be … then he walked into the vision, Fergal’s father – Cialtie.

      A gasp went through the group. Why didn’t I see this coming? Mná looked up and saw that Cialtie had entered. She pushed her hair back in an attempt to look better and smiled at him. ‘Is it done?’ she asked.

      Cialtie smiled broadly. ‘It is done.’

      ‘Now you are king?’

      ‘Soon.’

      Mná smiled. ‘And I shall be your queen.’

      Cialtie’s smile vanished. ‘I don’t think so.’

      Mná sat up, confused.

      ‘You don’t think I could have a Banshee for a queen, do you?’ Cialtie said Banshee like it was a profanity. ‘What would people say?’

      Mná went to attack him but was struck by another set of contractions. She fell back onto the bed, screaming. Breithe came up behind Cialtie and told him that he should leave and not upset the girl. Cialtie answered her with a backhanded punch that sent her across the tent, unconscious on the floor.

      ‘You have been very helpful,’ Cialtie said to Mná, ‘but I’m afraid your usefulness has run out.’

      I don’t know if Mná was screaming from the pain of labour or because she saw the sword – either way, the screaming stopped abruptly when Cialtie chopped her head off.

      Fergal freaked. He screamed, ‘No!’ and tried to stand.

      Mom reached through the fire and grabbed him by the collar. ‘It is dangerous to leave before we are done.’ Her voice meant business.

      ‘Please,’ Fergal cried. His face was soaked with tears. ‘Don’t make me watch this.’

      ‘I don’t want to see any more either, Fergal, but we must. The Shadowmagic would crush us if we broke the casting. We are almost finished.’

      I wasn’t sure if I was allowed or not, but I had to go to him. I got up and sat next to Fergal and put my arm around him. Araf did the same on the other side and Essa held him from behind. Sobs racked Fergal as, together, we watched to the end.

      In the vision we saw Cialtie pick up an oil lamp and walk to the entrance of the tent, then without emotion he smashed the lamp on the ground. He turned and exited, leaving the tent aflame. Breithe came to before the flames reached her. I wish I had met her – she must have been a remarkable woman. When she saw what had happened to Mná, she allowed herself only a second of horror – then she pulled a knife from her sock, jumped on the bed to avoid the flames, and went to work. Breithe performed a Caesarean section. She made a careful incision in Mná’s midriff and gently removed Fergal from his dead mother’s body. Just as swiftly, she tied off the umbilical СКАЧАТЬ