Shadowmagic. John Lenahan
engulfed her in mid-sentence.
I awoke from my first dream with such a jolt that I instantly stood up, which was a mistake. I was still in the boat. Even though it was beached, it tipped over. I fell smack down in the shoreline as the boat flipped over painfully on the back of my legs. I quickly struggled out from under it and desperately searched for Sally (or the tree that had become Sally) before I came to my senses. I collapsed on the ground and rubbed the back of my calves. So that’s what a dream is like. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to close my eyes and continue it, or never fall asleep again.
A tug on my collar made me realise that something was hanging around my neck. Attached to the end of a leather strap was a beautiful gold ornament. It was shaped like a tiny tornado with leaves spinning in it. As I marvelled at the intricacies of my new jewellery, the smell of food and a campfire hit me. My nose went up like a batter who had just hit a fly ball. It was a smell I was powerless not to follow.
At least this day was starting better than the previous one. Yesterday I awoke to the nightmare of finding myself chained to a wall by a lunatic uncle who was determined to give me a new nickname–Lefty. Today I walked into the dream-come-true of my father and my mother sitting around a campfire. They were holding hands (well, hand) and deep in conversation when I came around a huge weeping willow. They broke off when they saw me.
‘Good morning,’ my father said.
‘Good morning,’ I replied, not really looking at him. My eyes were glued to my mother. At a glance I would have thought she was my age until I looked into her eyes. I was starting to learn that here, in Tir na Nog, it wasn’t grey hair or a wrinkled face that betrayed someone’s age, like in the Real World–it was the eyes.
‘Good morning,’ I said.
She stood up. It was an awkward moment, like we were meeting for the first time. She was nervous.
‘Good morning, Conor.’
I wrapped my arms around her. I had a lifetime of mothering to make up for. Her return hug told me she felt the same.
‘I could get very used to this,’ I said, trying unsuccessfully to stop the dam from breaking behind my eyes.
‘And I too.’ She wept.
Dad left us for a respectable amount of time before he interrupted. ‘Cup of tea, Conor?’
I wiped my eyes and saw Dad grinning from ear to ear, holding a steaming cup in his hand. ‘Thanks,’ I said as I took a seat next to him. ‘I think I just had a dream.’
‘Yeah, me too. Intense, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘Are all dreams like that?’
‘I don’t know. Like you, I never had a dream in the Real World. This being your first one, it must have…What’s that phrase you use? Freaked you out.’
‘Freaked you out?’ Mom said.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ Dad replied.
I have had a lot of breakfasts in my day, but let me tell you, if all breakfasts were like this, I would never sleep late again. The tea was made from willow bark. It didn’t taste good as much as it felt good. Mom said that it would ease the strains and bruises of the previous day. It wasn’t until the willow tea started to do its work that I realised just how much pain I had been in: my neck from the whip, my arms and wrists from being clapped in chains, my back from the horse ride and my head from–just plain shock. Blessed relief came as each part of my body stopped hurting, like the peace you get when a neighbour finally stops drilling on the adjacent wall.
‘Found this around my neck,’ I said.
Dad reached inside his shirt and produced an identical necklace. ‘Me too. It’s one of your mother’s specialities. It’s a rothlú amulet.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘it’s beautiful.’
‘It’s not for show,’ she replied, ‘it’s for protection.’
‘I don’t think I need any protection around here. Every time I get attacked, I seem to be surrounded by some gold force field.’
‘You have been lucky,’ she said. ‘I placed that spell on you when you were born, but it only protects you from attacks from your relatives.’
‘Like a spear from Aunt Nieve,’ I said, ‘or Uncle Cialtie’s sword.’
‘If Cialtie had gotten someone else to cut your hand off…’ she said.
‘Then Dad and I would be bookends.’
‘Yes. Also,’ she said, ‘it only works for one battle with each relative.’
‘So next time Aunt Nieve decides to make a Conor kebab–I’m on my own?’
‘What’s a kebab?’ Mom asked.
‘That’s right,’ Dad said, ‘that’s what the rothlú amulet is for.’
‘What’s it do?’
‘It’s only to be used in an emergency,’ Mom said. ‘All you have to do is place your hand over the amulet and say “Rothlú.” Then you’re somewhere else.’
‘Like on the edge of a cliff,’ Dad said, ‘or a snake pit.’
‘There are no snakes in The Land,’ Mom retorted. ‘Oisin here is not a fan of this spell.’
‘It’s dangerous, Conor, you can end up anywhere and it hurts like hell. Did she mention that?’
Mom nodded reluctantly. ‘But it may save your life. Make sure you do not use it unless you really need it.’
‘Is this that Shadowmagic I’ve been hearing about?’
They both seemed to jump a little bit when I mentioned Shadowmagic, like I’d blurted out the plans of a surprise party in front of the birthday girl.
‘No,’ Mom said. ‘This uses gold. It’s Truemagic’
My fifty next questions were stopped dead by the next course. I had never had roast rabbit before but I can tell you right now, I’m never going to be able to watch a Bugs Bunny cartoon again without salivating. Breakfast finished with an apple each. I thought it was a bit of an anticlimax but Dad took his apple like it was a gift from God. He held it in his hand like a priest holding a chalice, and when he bit it, a moan escaped from his throat that was almost embarrassing. I looked at my apple anew. It looked ordinary enough but when I bit it–I’ll be damned if the same moan didn’t involuntarily pour out of me. What a piece of fruit! It hit you everywhere and all at once. This was real food, not the fake stuff that I had been wasting my time eating all my life. This is all I will ever need–this is the stuff that makes you live forever. This was forbidden fruit!
‘Wow,’ I garbled with my mouth full, ‘I feel like Popeye after his first can of spinach.’
Dad thought that was funny. Mom looked confused.
‘Come,’ Mom said, ‘we cannot stay here any longer–I would like to reach the Fililands before tomorrow night.’
Dad packed up the mugs and the water skin. Mom placed the bones and the apple cores on the burning wood and then placed her hands in the flames. The fire died down and then went out. The charred wood and earth seemed to melt into the ground until only a dark circle remained.
As he left, my father placed his hand on the trunk of the willow we were under and said, ‘Thank you.’ My mother did the same.
When I started to walk to the boat, my mother said, ‘Are you not going to thank the tree for his shelter and wood?’
Feeling a bit stupid, I went up to the tree and placed my hands on its bark and said, ‘Thank you.’
I swear the tree said, ‘You are welcome.’ Not with words–it felt like it spoke directly into my head. I