Prince of Hazel and Oak. John Lenahan
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Dad was sealed in another world. Mom was preoccupied with castle duties and when she wasn’t, she was sitting up all night with Fand in their Shadowmagic laboratory. Araf is a great friend on an adventure but for just hanging out, he can actually make me feel more alone than when I’m alone. And, of course, everything I saw in The Land reminded me of Fergal. Man, I missed him. And every time I was low and alone I would inevitably replay the moment Cialtie stuck a knife in his chest, and in every rerun I could do nothing to stop it.
And where the hell was Essa? No one could tell me where she was. Ah Essa – when I wasn’t replaying Fergal’s demise I was replaying my farewell with her. I may not have been able to save my cousin but I sure as hell could have handled my last moments with Essa better. I could have forgiven her – I should have forgiven her – I should have stayed with her. Instead I went back to Sally. I wonder if I could possibly have been more of an idiot. I went to sleep and dreamt of all of the stupid things I had done in my life. It was a very long night.
I had just gotten to about the age of twelve, where I broke my arm in a bouncy castle accident, when Mom woke me up very excited. I popped up quickly, holding my elbow. She had a wild-eyed look, like a student who had studied all night and drunk thirty cups of coffee. Over her shoulder hung a satchel.
‘Conor, you must see this!’ she said as she bounded off the bed and grabbed a book off the bookshelf. ‘I think Fand and I have finally done it.’
‘Done what?’ I asked with a morning voice that made me sound as if I had been gargling with ground glass.
She opened the book, tore out half of a page from the middle and handed it to me. I was still dopey from sleep and stared at the piece of paper wondering what the hell she wanted me to do with it. Then she handed me a gold brooch with an amber stone set in.
‘Clip it onto the piece of paper,’ she said, bouncing on her toes like a kid showing off a new toy. ‘Go on.’
I looked at the brooch. It was about the size of a half dollar with a spring in the back that allowed it to move like a bulldog clip. I pinched it open and clipped it onto the piece of paper. The paper started to glow with an amber light, then so did my hand where I was touching it. An all too familiar tingling sensation began in my fingers. It felt exactly like when I was under attack from a relative, and Mom’s protective spell had just kicked in. I dropped the paper and clip and jumped straight up looking around my room for the source of the attack. There was none. When I realised I wasn’t glowing any more I looked down on my bed and there attached to Mom’s new brooch was a shining translucent book. I picked it up. It tingled in my hand but it felt real. On the cover I could faintly make out the title. It was the same as the book that Mom had just ripped the page from. In my hands it seemed to weigh the same as a regular book and when I opened it, the clear pages turned just like paper.
‘What … what is it?’ I asked.
‘For want of a better word it is a Shadowbook. It’s a hybrid of Truemagic and Shadowmagic. The paper, in a way, remembers the rest of the book.’
I turned the Shadowpages. It was strange still being able to see my fingers through what felt like a solid thing. As I moved the book around in the light I saw faint glimmerings on the pages but nothing legible.
‘It’s a shame you can’t read it, though.’
‘Ah ha!’ Mom exclaimed. ‘Here is the cold part.’
‘The cold part?’
‘Is not that what you say?’
I laughed, ‘You mean the cool part.’
‘Right, the cool part.’ She opened her satchel and took out a clipboard-sized sheet of gold and laid it on the bed. When she placed the Shadowbook on top of it, the words appeared almost as if the book was real.
‘Wow, Mom, that is very cold.’
It wasn’t until her face lit up with pride that I realised that one of the things I missed most during this trip to The Land was my mother’s smile.
She gave me a hug and then quickly picked up her things and hurried to the door. ‘It shouldn’t take too long for Fand and me to make a few more clips. I imagine we could leave the day after tomorrow.’
‘Leave for where?’
‘The Hazellands. We are going to find a cure for your father in the Hall of Knowledge.’
Chapter Seven
The Armoury
I listened for the sound of smashing furniture as I approached Brendan’s room. Frick (or was it Frack) said that he had been eerily silent. I stuck my head around the door and found Brendan in bed staring at the ceiling.
‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m still here, aren’t I?’
‘As far as I can tell, yes.’
‘Then I’m not all right.’
‘So you’re just going to sulk?’
‘What else is there to do?’ he said. ‘I’m stuck here for at least a year. God knows what my life, my career and my little girl will be like in a year’s time. I’m under house arrest, followed around by two dolts who keep staring at me like they expect horns to grow out of my head. And I can’t even read a book ’cause everything is written in some ancient language that, although I can magically speak it and understand it, I can’t read it. And before you offer – there is no way I’m going to let that aunt of yours do that molten gold thing to my eyes.’
‘I’m sorry, Brendan, but this isn’t my fault and there is nothing I can do.’
‘Yeah, I know. I’ve been lying here thinking about it all morning – it’s my fault.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say that. How about we say it’s nobody’s fault?’
‘No,’ Brendan sighed. ‘It’s my fault. It started when I arrested an innocent man. Don’t get me wrong, I had pretty good reason but, in the end, I arrested a man for a crime that not only had he not committed – it was a crime that never even happened. No good can ever come from something that starts like that. So as much as I would like to blame you – this is mostly my fault.’
‘Well, if you insist,’ I said, ‘but don’t beat yourself up too much – it could have happened to anyone.’
‘Thanks,’ he said, finally looking at me. ‘So this is really … real then?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘And I have been acting like a serious jerk?’
‘That too, I’m afraid, is true.’
Brendan placed his hand over his face in embarrassment. ‘Oh my God, I rapped on your father’s forehead like it was a door. Oh, I am so sorry, Conor.’
‘Yeah, that was pretty bad.’
‘Oh and the furniture and the … I really am sorry, Conor,’ he said, sitting up. ‘But in my defence, I did think I was going to wake up at any moment.’
‘Fair enough, apology accepted.’ I held out my hand. ‘Shall we start over?’
‘I’d like that,’ he said, shaking it.
I had come in to tell him that I was leaving for a few days but instead I said, ‘How about a road trip?’
That piqued his interest. ‘To where?’
‘The Hazellands.’
‘Isn’t that where the Leprechaun army is stationed?’
‘Oh my gods, you were listening to me.’
‘I’m a man of my word, Conor. I didn’t believe or care about your story the first