The Shadowmagic Trilogy. John Lenahan

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      Food and fire, now that was a good idea. After paddling all day and the stress of the Yewlands, I was overdue for a break.

      The meadows of heather gave way to fields of tremendously tall holly trees. We pulled the boat ashore and stashed it under a bush. (Mother of course asked the holly for permission.) We walked a faint path until we saw a stone hut with a thatched roof.

      ‘This is a lovely Gerard hut,’ Mom said.

      ‘Is Gerard home?’

      ‘I shouldn’t think so.’ Dad laughed. ‘Gerard is an old Runelord who likes to travel. He built a bunch of these huts so he wouldn’t have to sleep out-of-doors.’

      ‘Well,’ I said, ‘it looks cosy.’

      ‘They usually are,’ my father said, opening the door.

      I had heard the sound of a crossbow firing before, but I had never heard the sound of an arrow piercing flesh. In the old cowboy movies, the sound of an arrow entering a body was always a clean thwap – in reality, the sound is a pop, followed by a hideous squelch. Dad spun completely around like a top and hit the ground hard on his back – a crossbow bolt was sticking out of his chest.

FIVE

      ROTHLÚ

      When I saw the air gurgling out of the wound in my father’s chest, I dropped to my knees and screamed, ‘Dad!’ This turned out to be a lucky choice – if I had remained standing the second arrow would have got me right between the eyes. As it was, it still gave my hair its first centre parting. Dad had opened the door to an ambush.

      ‘Don’t move,’ I heard a woman’s voice order.

      I looked up expecting a second attack, but instead I saw a deadly scene frozen in time. Aunt Nieve was standing in the doorway, and behind her were two soldiers with empty crossbows. My mother and my aunt were face to face, eyes locked – Mom was holding an amber ball while Nieve was holding a gold sphere made of wire.

      ‘Make one move towards him and we all die,’ Mom said.

      ‘If the boy dies then my duty is done,’ Nieve replied. ‘If we die with him – so be it.’

      ‘If I set off this Shadowcharm then all will die except the boy,’ Mom said. ‘You have seen the protection I have given him already. Your duty will fail and you will be dead.’

      They stared at each other for a time.

      ‘You should be with me in this,’ hissed Nieve.

      ‘You want me to stab my own son in the neck?’ My mother said neck with such vehemence that it made me jump. ‘We all realise that if Conor wasn’t around we would all be safe.’ She spoke in such a strange voice that it made me think she wasn’t talking to Nieve – she was talking to me. ‘You don’t expect me to risk his neck just to make us safe.’

      The amulet! She was talking about the rothlú amulet around my neck. I reached up, slowly wiped my lips and casually let my hand drop to the gold charm hanging around my neck. I wrapped my little finger around it.

      ‘Do you really think you and Dad would be safe if I was gone?’ I said to my mother.

      ‘Listen to him,’ Nieve said, ‘the boy is beginning to understand.’

      ‘I hope he does understand,’ Mom said, talking to me, while never taking her eyes off Nieve. ‘Yes, it would be safer for all if you were gone.’

      I looked down at my father, who nodded to me with his eyes. I did understand. Mom wanted me to escape with the amulet and defuse this situation, so that maybe Dad could get some help.

      ‘You know, Aunt Nieve,’ I said, ‘all of my life I wished I had an aunt that would send me an unexpected birthday present, like other kids. Instead I got one that tries to kill me every time we meet. Well, I want you to know that I am taking you off my Christmas card list. Oh, and by the way – rothlú!’

      A rothlú spell kicks in fast but I did have a split second to see Nieve’s expression before all went black. It was so satisfying that it was almost worth the pain.

      Pain! Did I mention pain? Man, did I hurt. I didn’t hurt all over, like with a killer hangover – it was more like every little bit of me hurt. My lips hurt, my earlobes hurt, my toes hurt, my hair hurt and I don’t even want to talk about my groin. It felt as if every tiny fragment of me was torn apart and then quickly reassembled. For all I know that’s what actually happened.

      I was lying on my side in a foetal position. I must have been unconscious all night because I could feel the hot sun on my eyelids, but there was no way I was going to open my eyes, let alone move – I knew it was going to hurt too much. I think I would have stayed like that for a day or twelve, if I hadn’t been disturbed by a tug on my foot. Normally, a tug like that would have had me alert in a flash, but I was so out of it that I only managed to crack one eye open, a slit. The light sent a pain into my head that made me want to moan, but I was sure that moaning would have hurt too. When I finally could focus, I saw a disgusting leather sandal on the ground next to my face and a pair of hands fumbling with a shoelace as they tried to pull one of my Nikes off.

      I heard a voice say, ‘Not bad,’ and then I felt a tug on my other foot. He was stealing my shoes. Some twerp was nicking my sneakers! Concussion or no concussion, I wasn’t going to stand for this. You can whip me, shoot me, kidnap me or try to kill me, but there is no way I was going to let my Nikes go without a fight. I jumped to my feet, and in one swift movement drew my sword. I caught the thief completely off guard. First, he was utterly engrossed with my shoelaces and second, I think he presumed I was dead. I must have looked dead – I certainly felt it.

      I found myself standing over him with my sword pointed at his chest. He was a young man in both face and in his eyes. His hair was the remarkable thing – it was jet-black with a pure white tuft in the front. He was surprised to see me standing over him, and to be honest, so was I. Then the world began to spin – I had gotten up way too fast. I was going to faint.

      As I swooned, I blurted out, ‘Were you stealing my shoes?’ Then I lost my balance. I stumbled forward, the tip of my blade inadvertently moving towards his chest. He understandably thought I was going to kill him. I tried to pull my sword away. I tried to keep my balance. I thought I was going to be sick. That’s when I saw his sword. Even if I had been alert I don’t think I could have parried it. With the quickest of flicks, he cocked his right wrist and a short blade travelled like lightning out of his sleeve. In one instantaneous motion he caught the pommel in his hand and stabbed me in the chest.

      The amber glow engulfed the two of us the microsecond before his blade touched my chest. I realise now that life is made up not of days, or hours, or even seconds, but moments. One tiny moment follows another. One moment I saw the blade about to enter my heart – the next I was impossibly balanced on the tip of a razor-sharp sword, protected by my mother’s wonderful amber force field.

      I had just met another member of the family.

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