Shadowmagic. John Lenahan
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the back, but before we could take more than a couple of steps I saw, and heard, a black leather whip wrap around my father’s neck. I tried to shout but my voice was strangled by the searing pain of another whip wrapping around my own throat.
The next thing I remembered, I was chained to a dungeon wall talking to my father about the family tree.
‘What’s her name?’
‘Nieve,’ Dad said, without looking at me.
I was about to ask, ‘Why does she want to kill us?’ when I felt something crawl across my ankle. It was a rat–no, I take that back–it was the mother of all rats. I’d seen smaller dogs. I screamed and tried to kick it away. It moved just out of reach and stared at me like it owned the place. Just what I needed, a super-rat with an attitude.
‘Where the hell are we?’ I yelled.
‘We are in The Land,’ Dad said in a faraway voice.
‘The Land? What land?’
‘The Land, Conor–Tir na Nog.’
‘Tir na Nog? What,’ I said sarcastically, ‘the place full of Pixies and Leprechauns?’
‘There are no Pixies here, but yes.’
‘Dad. Quit messing around. What is going on?’
He turned and looked me straight in the eyes, and then with his I’m only going to tell you this once voice he said, ‘We are in The Land. The place that the ancient Celts called Tir na Nog–The Land of Eternal Youth. I was born here.’
I began to get angry. I was in pain, we were definitely in trouble, and Dad was treating me like a kid, making up some cock-and-bull story to keep me happy. I was just about to tell him what I thought of him, but then I thought about the guy who fell off his horse. ‘Did you see that guy disappear?’
‘He didn’t disappear,’ Dad said, and I could tell he was struggling to make this so I could understand. ‘He just grew old–quickly’
‘Come again?’
‘When someone from The Land steps foot in the Real World, they instantly become the age that they would be there. That soldier was probably a couple of thousand years old.’
‘What!’
‘He was an immortal. Everyone from The Land is an immortal.’
I looked deep into his eyes, waiting for the twinkle that lets me know he’s messing with me. When it didn’t come, I felt my chest tighten.
‘My God, you’re not screwing around, are you?’
He shook his head–a slow no.
‘So what,’ I said half jokingly, ‘like, you’re an immortal?’
‘No,’ he said, turning away, ‘I gave that up when I came to the Real World.’
I shook my head to clear the cobwebs, which was a mistake, because I almost passed out with the pain. When my vision cleared, Dad was staring at me with a look of total sincerity.
‘So you used to be an immortal?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
At that point I should have come to the obvious conclusion that this was all just a dream, except for the fact that dreaming isn’t something I had ever done. Famously, among my friends and classmates at least, I had never had a dream. I had an idea what they were like from TV shows and movies but it was not something I had ever experienced. People always said, ‘Oh, you must dream, you just don’t remember it,’ but I don’t think so. When I put my head down, I wake up in the same place and I don’t go anywhere in-between. And anyway, I knew this was real–there was something in the air, other than the stench, that felt more real than anything I had ever known.
I was silent for a long while and then I asked, ‘Do I have any other relatives I should know about?’
The answer came, not from my father, but from a shadowy figure standing in the doorway on the far side of the room.
‘You have an uncle,’ he said.
The instant he emerged from the shadows, I knew he was my uncle alright. He looked like an old high-school photo of my father, before the grey hair and the extra twenty pounds. He had that evil twin appearance about him, like one of those crappy TV movies where the same actor plays the part of the nice and the wicked brother. He even had the black goatee and a sinister sneer.
Don’t get the impression that this was a comical moment. Even chained against a wall, I tried to take an involuntary step back–this guy was scary. But the person who scared me the most at that moment wasn’t my uncle, it was my father.
‘Cialtie,’ he said, with more malice than I had ever heard from anybody–let alone Dad.
‘Brother Oisin,’ Cialtie dripped, ‘you look, what is that word? Oh yes–old.’
‘Where is Finn?’
‘You mean our father? I thought he was with you. Last time I saw him he was riding into the Real World looking for you. His horse didn’t look very healthy though.’
‘You murdered him.’
‘Oh no,’ Cialtie replied with false innocence, ‘I wouldn’t hurt Father. I merely stabbed the horse,’ and then he smiled. It was my first experience of Uncle Cialtie’s smile, and it made my stomach churn.
‘I’ll kill you,’ Dad hissed.
‘No, I think you will find that that is what I am going to do to you. But first I am going to kill your boy here, and you know the best part? After that I’ll be considered a hero–a saviour even.’
‘Why would killing me make him a saviour?’ I said, finding my voice.
Cialtie addressed me directly, for the first time, instantly making me wish I hadn’t asked the question. ‘Hasn’t Daddy told you anything?’ Cialtie scolded. ‘Tsk, tsk, Oisin, you really have neglected his education. Haven’t you told him of the prophecy?’
‘What prophecy?’
‘I didn’t think this would ever happen,’ Dad said without looking at me. ‘We were never supposed to come back.’
‘What prophecy?’
‘You are the son of the one-handed prince’ quoted Cialtie, ‘a very dangerous young man. It’s true, it was foreseen by a very gifted oracle.’
‘Who,’ my father said, ‘you murdered.’
‘Water under the bridge, Oisin. You really must learn to let bygones be bygones. You see, your daddy here carelessly lost his hand–which I still have upstairs, you know, it’s one of my favourite possessions–so that meant that having a baby was a no-no, but as always Oisin thought he knew best and it looks like it’s going to take his big brother to sort things out.’
‘You are using my hand,’ Dad hissed, ‘to keep the throne.’
‘Oh yes,’ replied Cialtie, ‘I find it works just as well in the Chamber of Runes without the rest of you. Better, in fact–because your mouth isn’t attached to it. That Shadowwitch you used to run around with did a really good job of preserving it.’
I could see the blood vessels in Dad’s temple stand out as he strained against his chains. My temples must have been throbbing too. I didn’t have a clue what was going on. Some oracle predicted that I had to die? Cialtie was using Dad’s hand? And what throne?
‘I would love to stand here and reminisce all day’ said Cialtie, ‘but I have a nephew to kill. Now,