The Shadowmagic Trilogy

‘Yew trees are old. The oldest trees in Tir na Nog. We of The Land think we are immortal, but to the yew we are but a spark. To answer your question, if you wake a yew, it will judge your worth. If it finds you lacking – you will die.’

‘What will it do, step on me?’ I said, and got that same icy stare as before.

‘It will offer you its berries, which are poisonous,’ she said, in a tone that warned me that her patience was thinning, ‘and you will be powerless to resist.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘Please, Conor,’ she said, ‘do not put it to the test today.’

I didn’t have to ask if we were in the Yewlands, I knew it when we got there. Heck, I knew it before we got there. We rounded a bend in the river and ahead I saw two huge boulders on opposite sides of the bank. On top of them were the most awesome trees I had seen yet. They weren’t as big as the oaks, but these were definitely the elders – the great-great-grandfathers of all of the trees and probably everything else in creation. The roots of the yews engulfed the rocks like arthritic hands clutching a ball. It seemed as if these two trees had just slithered up onto their perches to observe our approach. It made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Past the guard trees we entered a thick forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. A dense canopy turned the world into a dark green twilight, and there was no light at the end of this tunnel.

The first corpse was just inside the forest. Within ten minutes I must have seen fifteen of them. On both sides of the bank, human remains in various states of decay adorned the base of one tree or another. Some of them were clean, bone-white – others were still in their clothes. Many of them had quivers with arrows on their back. All of them were looking up, open-mouthed, as if to say, ‘No!’ or maybe, ‘Thy will be done.’

Mom’s warning about not speaking in the Yewlands proved to be unnecessary. I wasn’t going to say a word. Never have I felt so humbled and insignificant as I did in the presence of those sleeping giants. I didn’t want them to know I was there, and I definitely didn’t want them to judge me. If they bid me to eat their berries, or throw myself off a cliff for that matter, I would do as they commanded, just to make them happy. Like a dog to a master – or a man to a god.

We spent most of that day silent, in an emerald dusk. It was slow going: each paddle was done with care so as to not make any splashing sounds. The frequency of the corpses diminished, but still from time to time a skyward-facing skull, encased in moss, would be just visible. As we came around a bend my mother’s breath quickened. Ahead was a moss-covered altar surrounded by a semicircle of what must be the oldest of these primordial trees. The bases of the trees were littered with women’s corpses. Each tree was surrounded with five or six sets of bones, some bleached white, some in white robes, a couple still with long, flowing hair, and all were in the same position. They were embracing a tree trunk, as if for dear life – which I suppose they were. I noticed that my mother didn’t look.

When, in the distance, I saw a clear white light at the end of the forest, I let out a tiny yelp of joy that I instantly regretted. My parents shot me a disapproving look. Luckily the trees took no notice.

The fresh air and sunshine made me feel like I had been rescued from a premature grave. I waited until the Yewlands were out of sight before I dared to speak.

‘Well, that was fun,’ I said, trying to sound cooler than I felt. ‘Who were all those dead people?’

‘Archers mostly,’ Dad replied.

‘Why archers?’

‘The best bows are made from yew; if you want to be a master archer, you have to ask a yew tree for wood.’

‘And those were the guys that didn’t make the grade?’

He nodded.

‘Have you ever been judged by a yew?’

‘Not me, I was never much of an archer. Good thing too – one-handed archers are traditionally not very good.’

‘I have,’ my mother said, in a faraway voice that sent a shiver down my spine. ‘I have been judged by a yew. Next to giving up my son, it was the hardest thing I have ever done.’

I thought that maybe she wasn’t going to say anything more – her face told me it was a memory that was painful to remember. I waited – she took a deep breath and went on. ‘The place you saw with the altar is called the Sorceress’ Glade. Like archers with their bows, a true sorceress must translate a spell onto a yew branch.’

‘What, like a magic wand?’

‘If you like.’

‘And you were judged?’

In reply she reached into her pouch and produced a plain-looking stick, carved with linear symbols.

‘What does it do?’

‘It gives me power over the thorns,’ she said.

‘Huh?’

‘You will understand when we reach the Fililands.’

We were floating by fragrant fields of heather, inhabited by sheep, rabbits and deer. I even saw a black bear fishing on a bank. It was like a 3-D Disney film. I almost expected the bear to wave.

‘How did you become a sorceress?’

‘Her father,’ Dad said, ‘wanted to make a superwoman.’

‘My father wanted his daughter to be educated,’ Mom corrected. ‘He hired twelve tutors to teach me in the arts, philosophies, combat and magic. I loved all my tutors, almost as much as I loved my father for providing them for me. Of all my studies, it was at magic that I excelled. Against my father’s wishes, I made the pilgrimage to the Sorceress’ Glade with my tutor, my mentor, my friend.’ Mom fell silent and sadness invaded her face.

‘It was Nieve,’ Dad said.

‘Nieve? My Aunt Nieve? The one who tried to pierce my sternum with a javelin?’

‘I am sure she took no joy from that task,’ Mom said. ‘Nieve has a very strong sense of duty.’

‘Could you give her a call and maybe we could sit down and talk about this?’

‘Nieve and I have not spoken to one another for a long time,’ she said.

‘Because of me?’

‘No, before that, when I left her guidance to study Shadowmagic.’

Shadowmagic – there was that word again. Every time someone mentioned it, they sounded like they were selling a stolen watch in an alley.

‘What is the deal with this Shadowmagic stuff?’

‘Magic is never without cost,’ she said. ‘Like wood is to a fire, gold is to magic. Gold is the power that is made by the earth. In order to cast a spell you need to spend gold. The greater the spell, the more gold you need. That is what they call, here in The Land, Truemagic. Gold is not the only power in the world, it is just the easiest to find and use. There is power in the air and the water, that is too difficult to control, and then there is another power – the power of nature that can be found in the trees. Harnessing this power is the force behind Shadowmagic. It is not as powerful, but it can do things that Truemagic cannot.’

‘So what does Nieve have against it?’

‘Shadowmagic is illegal,’ Father said.

‘Why?’

‘Ages ago,’ Mom explained, ‘in the early reign of Finn, there was a Fili sorceress named Maeve. Maeve detected power in amber stones and devised a way to use amber to power magic. Since amber is only petrified tree sap, she started to use fresh sap, the blood of trees, to power her magic. She became very powerful and that power drove her mad. She decimated an entire forest and used its energy to raise a huge army. Maeve and her army laid siege to Castle Duir. No one knows what happened – it is believed that in the midst of the battle, Maeve cast a mammoth spell that catastrophically failed. Maeve and all of the Fili army were killed. Afterwards, Finn outlawed Shadowmagic and decreed that Maeve’s name should never be uttered again. The Fili were so decimated it was thought they were extinct.’

‘You found them, I take it?’

‘Yes. Maeve’s daughter Fand lives.’

‘And she taught you Shadowmagic?’

‘She was reluctant at first. She was deeply ashamed of her mother, of the wars and death and the forest she destroyed, but deep down she knew that it was her mother that was wrong, not her magic. Together, we found and read Maeve’s notes to try and find out what happened. It was the killing of trees that corrupted her soul. We found trees that agreed to allow us to tap them for sap, and we swore never to kill a tree. We revived the art of Shadowmagic and found that it was good. Just as valid as Truemagic. After all, the yew wand is an integral part of Truemagic but at its heart, it is actually Shadowmagic.’

‘Did you ever try to convince Nieve?’

‘Oh yes. When I returned from the Fililands I told her about it. She was shocked and appalled that I would do such a thing. As I mentioned before she has a strong sense of duty, but she agreed to discuss it again.’

‘And what happened?’

‘We never had that talk.’

‘Why not?’

‘I was banished,’ Mom said.

‘Banished?’

‘Yup,’ Dad said, ‘your mother here is an outlaw. A regular Ma Barker.’

‘Who banished you?’

‘Finn,’ she said.

‘Finn, my grandfather? Why?’

‘Your mother performed a very public display of Shadowmagic in front of almost every Runelord in The Land. My father had no choice.’

‘He should have had me executed,’ she said.

‘What happened?’

‘That is part of the tale of how your father lost his hand. Not only is it a long-overdue story – it is a long one as well. I know a shelter up ahead. We can camp for the night and you can hear the tale properly over food and a fire.’

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.

SIX

FERGAL

I stood there at a forty-degree angle with the shoe thief’s blade holding me up, and I started to chuckle. I couldn’t help it. I was losing it. I held my arms straight out at my sides and laughed. Not a that’s a funny joke sort of a laugh but a crazy laugh, the kind of maniacal sound that comes out of Dr Frankenstein just before he screams, ‘It’s alive!’

Through the golden glow, I could see that my opponent was confused. He pushed at my chest a couple of times, trying to figure out why I wasn’t perforated. Every jab just made me laugh louder. Finally, I rolled off the point of his sword and fell to the ground, in hysterics. He stood up fast, leaned over me and actually poked a couple of times. Each prod made the glow return and I howled, tears pouring from my eyes. I saw the thief take off my Nikes and carefully pick up his sandals. I could tell he was a bit freaked, ready to run.

I tried to compose myself. ‘Wait,’ I croaked, as I struggled to sit up. He started to back away. ‘No, wait,’ I repeated as I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, ‘I won’t hurt you – look.’ I threw my sword away and held up my hands. ‘Sit down for a second.’

He stopped, still wary. ‘I’m not looking for any trouble,’ he said. ‘Honest to the gods, I thought you were dead. Well, not dead but I didn’t think you were going to last long.’

‘I believe you. Sit down.’

He sat a respectable distance away. I rubbed my eyes with my palms, trying to make them focus. The specific pain of before was becoming one giant all-over pain – an improvement but not much.

‘I think we have gotten off on the wrong foot.’

He stood up and started to back away. ‘I told you I was sorry for the shoe thing.’

‘No, no, relax,’ I said, palms forward. ‘I mean, I don’t think we should be fighting. I’m sorry I pulled a sword on you but I have had a really rough couple of days. Can we start over?’ I stood up and extended my hand. ‘My name is Conor.’

He looked me square in the eyes for a time and then slowly an amazing smile took over his whole face. It was so infectious that I couldn’t help turning up the corners of my own mouth in reply. He cocked his wrist and his sword disappeared instantly up his sleeve. He stepped right up and shook my hand enthusiastically (which hurt) and said, ‘They call me Fergal. Pleased to meet you, Conor.’

‘The pleasure is all mine, Fergal.’

‘So tell, Conor,’ Fergal said like we were old mates, ‘what the hell were you doing lying in a ditch?’

‘That’s a long story. You wouldn’t have a couple of aspirin and a glass of water, before I start, would you?’

‘Don’t know what that first thing is but there is a lovely wee stream just over there if you’re thirsty. Follow me.’

We put our shoes on, I picked up my sword and we climbed up out of the ravine. My legs howled in pain, as if I had just run a marathon with a sumo wrestler on my back. When we reached the top I saw that we were in the middle of rolling farmland. Fields of waving grain, periodically interrupted by the odd tree, stretched as far as the eye could see.

‘Where are we?’ I asked.

‘The fields of Muhn. The Castle Muhn vineyards start not far – just over that rise.’

My vision was clearing. I looked in the direction of Fergal’s finger and saw rolling hills in the distance. Fergal’s definition of not far was quite different from my own.

‘Oh, I get it,’ Fergal said, way too loud for my liking, ‘you were at a shindig at Castle Muhn last night – weren’t you?’

I almost said, I wish, but then it occurred to me that everyone who knew who I was had tried to kill me. ‘Maybe,’ I said, thinking that lying might be a sensible idea.

‘Well, that explains it.’ Fergal laughed. ‘You wouldn’t be the first guy to be found hung over in a ditch after a party at Castle Muhn.’ He slapped me on the back. It felt like I was hit with a sledgehammer.

The water made me wonder if I had been drinking sawdust all of my life. It was cool and crystal clear. It hit the back of my throat and made me feel like I would never be thirsty again. That’s one of the best things about The Land, it forces you to appreciate the simple things in life: fresh water, fragrant air, magnificent views, and not being dead. All of my problems and pressing engagements in the Real World were fading in my mind, except for that nagging image of Sally, still waiting outside the movie theatre.

‘I thought the big party was at moon bright,’ Fergal said. ‘Oh no! I haven’t missed it, have I? I could have sworn it was tomorrow night.’

‘No. You’re alright. It was an unofficial thing last night,’ I lied, ‘tomorrow’s the big night.’

‘Phew. I would have been well upset if I’d missed it,’ he said, slapping me on the back again. I had to figure out how to break him out of that habit. ‘So what are you doing then, Conor me friend? Are you on your way home or are you coming back for a bit of the hair of the dog?’

What to do? I knew that I should keep a low profile, especially when the motto around here seemed to be – to know Conor is to kill Conor. But what could I do on my own? I had to find my mother and father again. But where were they and how could I find them without telling people who I was? And a party! Why not? After all I’d probably get murdered by an in-law before the week was out – so why not party? This Fergal seemed like a nice guy and he was family (which may or may not be a good thing). If I hung around with him maybe I could come up with a plan before someone figured out who I was.

‘What the hell,’ I said. ‘One more night of partying can’t kill me.’

‘Well, maybe you should go easier tomorrow, you look awful rough.’

‘Thanks for the advice,’ I said, and together we set off for a party at Castle Muhn.

‘That was a clever bit of magic you pulled back there,’ Fergal said.

‘Yes, I liked it at the time.’

‘It’s a snap spell, isn’t it?’

‘A snap spell?’

‘Hey, sorry,’ Fergal said, raising his hands. ‘I shouldn’t be prying into another man’s magic.’

‘No, it’s OK,’ I said, ‘I just never heard of a snap spell.’

‘A snap spell is one that happens by itself. You don’t have to cast it or pay for it or anything – it just happens. Kings put them on their jewels and such to stop them from getting nicked. I never saw a proper one before – till now.’

‘I guess it is a snap spell then.’

‘Where’d you get it?’

What should I say to that? The problem with lying is that it gets you into trouble. I learned that painful lesson last year. I was dating a girl named Dottie when I met Sally. I told Dottie I was going out to dinner with my father when I was really taking Sally to the movies. The next day I saw Dottie and she said, ‘What did you have for dinner, popcorn?’ Man, was I busted.

The other problem with lying is you have to remember what you said, and since it seemed like I was going to be doing a lot of lying in the near future, I decided to tell the truth as much as I could.