News of Queen Macha’s return preceded us. An hour before our arrival at Castle Duir a rumble and a cloud of dust could be seen in the distance. Dahy and Dad sped to the front and were about to throw us all into battle stations when Macha said, ‘There is no need for concern. It is just my children.’

      Sensing the Horse Enchantress’s approach, the horses in Castle Duir’s stables had become anxious. The master of the stables, having heard that Macha was soon to arrive, left open all the stable doors and let the horses run to meet their mistress.

      Macha dismounted and walked ahead of us as the sound of thundering hooves intensified. What a scary and magnificent sight: Macha standing alone in an open field, her hands held out as a stampede of galloping horses came directly at her. As they got nearer they squeezed together so as to be close to the Horse Enchantress as they passed. I thought for sure they were going to trample her but at the last second they parted. They swarmed past her like a flock of birds – her hands brushing the charging beasts. They swung around for another pass. They did this three times and I’m sure they would have done it all day if Macha hadn’t put a stop to it. She raised her yew wand and the horses swung in front of her and then stopped as if at attention. From the middle of the herd came a huge silver stallion. I recognised him. The stable master had told me that his name was Echo because he was the spitting image of the horse that sired him – King Finn’s horse. When I once asked if I could ride him I was told that he was wild – unrideable. Yet here he was, head down, offering himself to the Horse Enchantress. Macha patted him on the snout and Echo quivered. Then, fast as a tree monkey, she mounted him and galloped towards Castle Duir. The herd whinnied and followed – leaving us behind.

      We didn’t even have to kick our horses to catch up; Acorn leapt to join the herd whether I liked it or not. I galloped up next to Dad and Nieve. ‘I’ll say this about Grandma,’ I shouted into the dust-filled air, ‘she knows how to make an entrance.’

      Mom had not been idle with the days that travelling dragon-back had given her. She had prepared a special airtight cell and had a Leprechaun smith make a pair of silver gloves/handcuffs that would hopefully render Lugh unable to whip up a breeze or any magic. While Dad and Nieve secured the prisoner, I went in search of answers.

      I found Fand in the Shadowmagic laboratory she set up with Mom. She was stirring something in a small pot.

      ‘If that’s a super delicate Shadowpotion you’re working on,’ I said, ‘I can come back later.’

      ‘It’s tea,’ Fand replied reaching under the counter and producing two cups. ‘Would you like some?’

      ‘Oh, yes, thank you.’

      She stirred the pot with a gold stick and when she removed it all of the used tea leaves had stuck to it. She mumbled something and the leaves all fell into a rubbish bin. Then she poured us both a cup.

      ‘What brings you down here, Prince Conor?’

      ‘I want to know who Lugh is.’

      That query made Fand lean back and sigh. She took a sip of tea before she answered. ‘Maybe that is the wrong question,’ she said. ‘Maybe you should be asking: what is Lugh? A question that many have been asking for a long time. Or maybe the most important question is: who is the man we have locked up in the windless cell? I’m not certain he is Lugh.’

      ‘Gerard said he was a god.’

      ‘A god. One man’s god is another man’s false idol. What is a god?’

      ‘I don’t want to interrupt you mid-flow, Fand, but do you think maybe you could answer one of my questions with something other than another question?’

      Fand laughed; it was not something I had ever heard her do before. It was sweet. ‘Sorry Conor, it is just that this appearance of Lugh, or whoever he is, has raised many questions.’

      ‘OK,’ I said, ‘let’s forget about this Oracle guy we have locked up. What are the old stories about Lugh?’

      ‘Well, that depends on who you are talking to. Among most of the houses of Tir na Nog, Lugh is thought of simply as Banbha’s consort.’

      Banbha, there was that name again. Whenever there are dark tales of the early days of The Land, Banbha is the name that usually comes up. ‘Banbha was one of the three original sisters that founded Tir na Nog right?’

      Fand nodded.

      ‘So Lugh was Banbha’s husband.’

      ‘This was long before customs such as marriage came about but that is essentially the idea.’

      ‘So why did Gerard call him a god?’

      ‘Well, as you know, many in The Land worship one or all of the sisters as gods. Leprechauns pray to Ériu for gold and most Imps venerate Fódla.’

      ‘I’ve seen Araf make a blessing gesture when hears Fódla’s name.’

      ‘Yes, I imagine he does,’ she said. ‘But others in The Land revere Lugh as much more than a consort. There are many, especially the Brownies, who look at him as a deity.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Most in The Land believe that the first land of Tir na Nog was Duir – the Oaklands – and this was found or created by Ériu who then sent for her sisters who in turn created other lands.’

      ‘I know this much,’ I said. ‘Fódla created Ur – the Heatherlands – and Banbha created Iodhadh – the Yewlands.’

      ‘That is what the Faeries believe, but lore reads differently. Most Brownies believe that the Yewlands were first and that Lugh was already there when Banbha found it. They say Banbha was the first sister and that Ériu and Fódla betrayed and banished her. What happened to Banbha no one knows but when she vanished – so did Lugh.’

      ‘Yeah, but the Brownies will believe anything if it gets them closer to Duir’s gold.’

      ‘It is not only the Brownies that believe that Lugh was The First – my mother believed it too.’

      Fand’s mother was Maeve. As the inventor of Shadowmagic, she had decimated a forest to steal sap, the blood of trees, to fuel a war against my grandfather and the House of Duir. At almost her moment of triumph she blew