he set a pretty crisp pace.
You would think that going downhill would be easer than uphill and you would be right, but not by as much as you would think. My calf muscles screamed with the effort it took to stop me from becoming a runaway teen.
It was nightfall by the time we reached the base of the mountain. I suggested to Spideog that he should get some rest, but he looked at me like I had just stomped on his puppy and disappeared into the forest. By the time he had returned with wood and a rabbit, Araf had the beginnings of a fire going. Brendan and I put up a very flimsy lean-to to keep off the rain. Together we ate in silence, none of us daring to speak for fear of being killed by the archer’s evil eye. When he finished eating and started to set up a bedroll I bravely said, ‘Thank you, Spideog, the meal was lovely.’
He didn’t even acknowledge my presence.
Brendan, Araf and I sat around the fire staring at each other for a while. Each waited for the other to speak but none of us wanted to break the vow of silence that the old man seemed to have imposed on the group. We bedded down. Ah, there is nothing like sliding between two wet blankets, in your wet clothes, as the rain leaks onto your head.
Spideog seemed to be as broken as his bow. As the old song says, you don’t know what you got till it’s gone, and losing the courage and the sureness of our leader was unnerving – scary. I lay there and mixed all of my troubles together, letting them roll down the mountain of my mind like a giant snowball: I was cold and wet, my father was dying and this trip was a complete failure and then there was Essa. I had been trying to avoid thinking about her. I had been trying to cover over my hurt with bravado, but hurt I was. She didn’t wait for me. She didn’t wait for me.
‘Why would she?’ replied Araf, who was lying next to me.
‘What?’
‘You are talking about Essa, yes?’
‘Oh, sorry, Araf, I didn’t realise I was speaking out loud.’
‘Oh dear, that’s not a good sign.’
‘Do you know him?’ I asked.
‘Who?’
‘The Banshee she’s marrying.’
‘Of course,’ the Imp replied, ‘He is The Turlow.’
‘Is he a good guy?’
‘What is a “good guy”, Conor? You are speaking in a Real World tongue – also not a good sign.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Is he a good man?’
‘The few dealings I have had with him have been favourable. Many like him. Some do not, but that is the price you pay when you are a leader.’
‘Everybody likes you, Araf,’ I said as I playfully kicked him in the back.
‘Ah well, I am special.’
No matter how low I was I had to laugh at that. Araf cracks so few jokes that ignoring one would be a crime.
‘Well, I don’t like him.’
‘And why do you think that is?’ inquired Araf. ‘Could it be you don’t like him because Essa does?’
‘No, that’s not why. Well, it’s not entirely why. I don’t like the way he talks to her. It makes me want to throw up. And he called me a Faerie.’
‘What is wrong with that?’
‘Well, how would you like it if he called you a Faerie?’
‘I would think it strange considering I am an Imp, but why would you object?’
‘Are you calling me a Faerie?’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ Araf said, sounding a bit confused.
‘Because I’m not a Faerie.’
‘Yes you are, Conor. Surely you knew that? I am an Imp, Turlow is a Banshee and you, Essa, Gerard and Spideog are Faeries.’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s just great – a perfect ending to a perfect day.’
I dropped my head back onto my soggy pillow and thought, well at least I couldn’t get much lower – but then I had another thought.
‘Araf,’ I called out into the damp dark, ‘would I be correct in assuming that I am the Prince of All the Faeries?’
‘Of course.’
‘Great,’ I said, as my head sloshed on my pillow, ‘just great.’
Acorn woke me with a head butt and a snort just before dawn. The previous night I had asked Araf where the horses were and he said, ‘They will be here.’ He was so casual about it I believed him and, sure enough, there they were. I got up – there is no point in staying in a bed when it’s cold and damp. Spideog was up too. He had rekindled the fire and was going through the packs.
‘I am only taking the bare necessities,’ he said without greeting me. ‘You three will have plenty of supplies for the rest of the journey.’
‘What do you mean you three?’
‘I must face the yews,’ Spideog said.
‘You’re leaving us?’ I said, loud enough to disturb the others.
He ignored me and continued to pack.
‘How will we get back?’
‘Travel that way,’ he said, pointing, ‘and stop when you see oak trees.’
Brendan came up and crouched down next to Spideog. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘I’ll go with you.’
‘No,’ he said in a tone that made it clear that this was not up for discussion.
Still Brendan persisted. ‘You can’t go alone.’
‘I said NO!’ the old man shouted, then calmed himself. ‘Your party needs an archer.’
Brendan stood and chuckled. ‘These two? Araf and Conor will be fine on their own. You are the one I am worried about. You are still weak from your fight. I can help you.’
Spideog stood, turned and with the speed of a striking snake grabbed the detective by his lapels. He had a mad look in his eyes. ‘I’m going to face the yews. Do you not understand? I’m going to be judged. I’m going to be judged – again. I’m going to tell the yews that I lost my bow. They are… they are going to kill me.’ He let go of Brendan and turned his back on all of us, his head bowed.
‘Do not go,’ Araf said.
‘That would be like asking you not to dig in the ground, Imp. I am an archer, I am Spideog the Archer. To be without a bow would be like being a bear without claws.’
He picked up his pack and set off without looking back.
I ran in front of him. ‘Wait a second, you can’t go to the Yewlands unarmed.’ I reached into my sock and presented him with my knife.
He stared at it and said, ‘Do you really think Dahy would want me to have his knife?’
‘I know he would.’
As he took it Brendan shouted, ‘Master Spideog!’
With a sigh he turned. Brendan was standing at attention. ‘You, sir, are the most worthy man I have ever met. Let no man – or tree – tell you otherwise,’ and then he saluted.
Spideog stood stock still like he had been slapped, then nodded and turned.
We watched as he faded into the morning mist. When at last he disappeared I said, ‘Anybody know the way home?’
Chapter Sixteen
