The Shadowmagic Trilogy. John Lenahan

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СКАЧАТЬ come you never told me?’

      Dad laughed. ‘What was I supposed to say? “Son, you are old enough now for me to tell you that I am the heir to the throne of a magical kingdom …” You think I’m loony enough as it is. I can imagine what you would have said to that.’

      ‘So, you’re the heir to a throne?’

      Dad thought for a second, and took a deep breath that looked like it hurt. ‘My father – your grandfather – was the lord of this castle. His name was Finn and he held Duir – the Oak Rune. He was the king, if you like, of Tir na Nog.’

      I was struggling to make sense of all of this. My head was spinning. ‘You’re a prince?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘The one-handed prince?’

      He nodded.

      ‘So why did Cialtie say I was dangerous?’

      ‘Ona,’ Dad said, ‘made a prediction.’

      ‘Who is this Ona?’

      ‘She was my father’s Runecaster.’ When I looked puzzled he said, ‘Like a fortune teller.’

      ‘And what did she say exactly?’ I could tell that the question pained him but I was angry. Some old bat throwing stones around was causing me a lot of trouble.

      ‘She said, “The son of the one-handed prince must die, lest he be the ruin of Tir na Nog.”’

      ‘That’s ridiculous! You don’t believe this crap, do you?’

      Dad lowered his head, and when he spoke I could hardly hear him. ‘Ona was never wrong.’

      ‘So let me get this straight. You lose your hand in a gardening accident and then everybody wants me dead!’ As soon as I said it I realised how ridiculous it sounded. ‘You didn’t lose your hand in a lawnmower, did you?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Are you going to tell me about it?’

      ‘That is a long story,’ I heard a woman’s voice say. It sounded as if it was coming from inside the wall to my right. ‘And if you want to get out of here,’ she said as she appeared right before my eyes, ‘we will have to save it for later.’

      You could have knocked me down with a feather. If I thought my aunt was stunning, this was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Dark, tall, with a straight black ponytail plaited to her waist and wearing – check this out – animal skins. She seemed to just step through the wall.

      She worked fast. She placed what looked like honey in the locks that shackled our wrists and Dad’s neck. Then she dropped to one knee, lowered her head, mumbled something and the irons fell away. I can’t tell you how good it felt. If you have ever taken off a thirty-pound backpack after a twenty-mile hike, you have the beginnings of an idea. Dad and I stood up.

      ‘Quickly!’ she said, and walked straight through the wall.

      Before Dad could follow I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Who’s the babe in the skins?’

      ‘That’s no way to talk about your mother,’ he said, and followed her through the wall.

THREE

      MOM

      I stood there as if rooted to the spot. I don’t have a mother. My mother is dead. My father told me so. Emotions swirled around me like a leafy breeze. I was five years old. I remembered the pain in my chest, the taste of my tears. I remembered the look on my father’s face as I stared up to him from my bed.

      ‘Is Mom in heaven?’ I sobbed.

      ‘I’m not sure I believe in heaven,’ a younger version of Dad replied. ‘The ancient Celts believed in a place called Tir na Nog, where people never grow old. I think that’s where your mother is.’ He held me until the tears slowed and my sobs were replaced by sleep. Was this the only time my father had ever told me the truth?

      ‘Conor?’

      I looked up and saw her standing there. ‘Are you my mother?’ I said in a voice I hadn’t used in fifteen years.

      ‘Yes,’ she said, and I knew it was true. I looked into that feminine mirror of my own face, complete with the tears, and I could hardly stand it. I know it contravened all eighteen-year-old cool behaviour but I couldn’t help myself. I threw my arms around her.

      She held me tight and stroked the back of my head.

      ‘Conor, oh my Conor,’ she said.

      I could have stayed in those arms for days, for months, for the rest of my life. She gently pushed me back by the shoulders, and in a motherly voice I so long had yearned for, said, ‘Conor?’ When I didn’t reply I heard the other motherly voice, the one that says, I’m your mother and you had better listen to me or else. She shook me and said again, ‘Conor!’

      That got my attention.

      ‘We don’t have time for this. We must leave here.’

      Still in a daze, I wiped my eyes and nodded.

      Mom gestured to our right. ‘This way.’

      That was when I heard his voice at the door.

      ‘You!’ shouted Cialtie.

      That snapped me right out of it. I looked to the door and saw my uncle standing there with some tall, spindly, pale woman. She was dressed in hanging black lace with dark, dark eyes, black lips and a skunk-like streak in the front of her jet-black hair.

      I lost it – I flipped out. ‘Leave me alone!’ I screamed so forcefully that spit flew out of my mouth. Neither of them was prepared for a fight. They expected to find us chained to the wall. I loved the look on Cialtie’s face as he reached for his sword and realised that he had thrown it across the room after he had failed to cut off my hand. It was lying on the floor to my left. We both looked at it at the same time. Cialtie went for the sword, but I went for Cialtie. Some people would think I was brave, but bravery had nothing to do with it. I was plain loco. All of the day’s craziness, the pain, the revelations, the emotions – I had just had enough! I hit Cialtie with a picture-perfect American football tackle. My shoulder caught him square in the solar plexus and smashed him into the wall. I actually heard all of the air fly out of his lungs and I knew he wasn’t getting up in a hurry. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the goth woman smash into the wall with a shower of golden light from something my mother did. I reached down and picked up the sword. It was so much lighter than it looked. The pommel fitted in my hand as if it was made for me. I started to raise it, fully intending to bring it down on my uncle’s head, when two guards ran into the room. As they reached for their weapons my mother grabbed me by the collar and threw me at the wall.

      Passing СКАЧАТЬ