Prince of Hazel and Oak. John Lenahan

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      I followed Nieve through the winding corridors of the west wing. Dad was in The Lord’s Chamber, the same one that Cialtie had used and where we had found Dad’s runehand.

      ‘Prepare yourself,’ Nieve warned, ‘he does not look good.’

      My stomach churned as I opened the door. Mom, Fand and an Imp-healer were standing around a bed wearing expressions ranging from puzzlement to grief. I had to cover my mouth to hide the gasp – he looked awful. My father’s skin was ashen grey, paper-like, and his face was dotted with sores. Most of his hair had fallen out and what was left was pure white. My first thought was that he was dead already, that’s how bad he looked. I knelt down next to the bed and held his hand.

      ‘Dad, Dad, it’s me, Conor.’

      I didn’t think he could hear me but then his eyes flickered and opened. An almost Duir smile lit his face. ‘Conor? Conor, are you all right?’ His voice was faint and raspy. ‘Deirdre said you were in trouble.’

      ‘I’m fine, Dad.’ I didn’t know what to say, his famous dark eyes had lost their shine. I could hardly stand it.

      ‘Good,’ he said, ‘I was worried about you. So how was your trip home?’

      I laughed, one of those painful laughs that are half a chuckle and half crying. ‘It was awful.’

      ‘What happened when you got back?’

      ‘The police arrested me for your murder.’

      This brought a huge grin to his face. ‘No!’

      ‘Yes,’ I laughed through tears.

      Dad started to laugh too but his laughter was replaced by a spasm of coughs. He had to close his eyes for a half a minute. When he opened them he squeezed my hand and said, ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

      ‘Me too.’ I held his hand for a while and then said, ‘Thanks, Dad.’

      ‘For what?’

      ‘I never realised until I went back, just how much you gave up for me. I don’t know how you stood it.’

      ‘Well, when it got really bad, I used to go to your room and watch you sleep, that gave me strength.’

      I dropped my head on his chest and wept openly. He stroked my hair. ‘I have to rest now,’ he said, ‘we’ll talk later.’

      Mom put her hands on my shoulders and guided me out. In the hallway we held onto each other; then she led me into an adjacent room.

      A Leprechaun brought in a tray of tea. Mom thanked her and sent her away. As she handed me a cup, I asked, ‘What’s the matter with him?’

      ‘We’re not sure,’ she said as she poured herself a cup, ‘but we think it is his hand.’

      ‘His runehand? The one he reattached in the Choosing?’

      ‘Yes. The Land has a life force that binds us to it; your father gave that all up when he escaped to the Real World. I thought getting his hand back would restore his immortality – I was wrong, it has done just the opposite. Our best guess is that The Land is confused, it sees your father as two things, a young hand that belongs here and an older man that does not. The Land is choosing his hand.’

      ‘Like a heart transplant patient rejecting a donor organ?’

      ‘I don’t know what you mean but rejecting is a good word. Oisin’s hand is rejecting the rest of him. It is killing him.’

      ‘Isn’t there anything you can do?’

      ‘We have tried everything, to no avail, but there is one desperate measure left to us. Just before you arrived Fand and I decided it is our only hope.’

      ‘What?’

      We are going to use Shadowmagic to encase all of Oisin in tree sap, just as I did with his hand. It will not cure him but it may give us time.’

      ‘Are you sure it’ll work?’

      Mom took a long time before answering. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I am not.’