‘Five.’
‘But…’
‘Three…two…’
I backed off fast. This bush was not one for negotiation. I looked up and saw my three companions smiling at me. I straightened my shirt and regained a little composure. ‘He said that he would let me through but not you guys, so I thought I might as well stay with the group.’
‘How nice of you,’ Essa said.
We travelled north along the thorn wall. On the other side of the spikes we could hear sounds of life-birds chirping and an occasional running deer. When a breeze came from the east, we were blessed with fresh, plant- cleansed air that was scented with wildflowers. It made me hate this living barbed-wire fence even more.
I fell in next to Fergal, who was quieter than usual. I asked him what was bothering him.
‘It’s the way Lorcan said Banshee -hell, it’s the way everyone feels about Banshees, like we’re scum.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I was raised by Imps, remember? I guess it’s because people are afraid of us. Banshees are the undertakers in The Land and nobody likes death. More than that it seems they can sense death approach, so every time someone sees a Banshee they think they are going to die.’
‘Can you do that?’
‘Sometimes I think I can, but I never learned all of that Banshee magic stuff
‘I can see how that would make you guys a bit spooky.’
‘It’s also what makes us-them, such good warriors. Banshee armies can sense if an enemy will die, they almost know if they will win a battle before it begins.’
‘So Banshees are warriors?’
‘That’s their primary role, to defend the western shore from invasion.’
‘Men of war always make people nervous in peacetime,’ I said.
‘I guess.’
‘Well, I like you, Fergal, no matter what anybody says.’
That brought a smile that seemed to bring him out of his funk. He babbled on for the rest of the afternoon. I almost regretted cheering him up.
We camped that night still in the Hazellands. We were all exhausted. We had been teased all day with the promise of life but were doomed to be stuck in this land of death. Tomorrow we would reach the Ngetal-the Reedlands-no matter how bad it was there, it had to be better than this. We went to sleep without much chat, in the hopes of a better tomorrow.
I dreamt I crested a hill and saw an army of Banshees. When they spotted me they all pointed, as if to say, You soon will die. I ran to escape but every place I turned blackthorn trees sprouted and blocked my path. Eventually I was encased by a blackthorn cage, surrounded by screaming Banshees. The huge thorns closed in on me. I awoke with a scream in my throat.
We smelt the Reedlands before we saw them. Just one whiff of the sulphur and decay dashed any hopes of our landscape getting better. Our only consolation was that we were just going to nip the Reedlands. The plan was to enter it just enough to find an opening to the Fililands, but this was not to be. When we got to the border, all we found was swamp. Murky water choked with black vegetation that bubbled with a smell so bad it put rotten eggs to shame. It was like a disease. You could see in places where it had started encroaching upon the Hazellands. There was no way we could walk in that stuff, let alone the horses, so we followed the unholy border west in hopes of finding some sort of a path. This meant that inevitably we would have to trek through a large part of this foul place.
After fifteen minutes the swamp gave way to reed-covered bogs. It was still too soft to travel through but it was an improvement-at least it smelt a bit better. Ten minutes later Essa called a stop.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘Someone has been here,’ she said, in a low voice that made me look over my shoulder.
She pointed to tracks that I could hardly make out. We followed them until they turned into the Reedlands. The footing was dry and solid where the trail led.
‘We enter here,’ Essa said. ‘Be careful-I don’t think we will be alone in there.’
The life in the Reedlands made me miss the desolation of the Hazellands. If this was life-it was a corruption of it. Plants of tan and black grew in odd shapes without the symmetry that nature usually provides. The Land had struck me as being so wholesome-this place was the opposite. It was just plain wrong.
Instinctively we travelled as quietly as we could. We didn’t want to meet anyone that would choose to live in a place like this, and I didn’t like the look of the vegetation-I didn’t trust it. A snake slithered quickly across my path. I grabbed on tight to the pommel of my saddle. I don’t know much about riding but I had watched a lot of cowboy movies and I knew that horses freak when they see a snake. Surprisingly, Acorn took no notice, but everyone else did.
‘What was that?’ came a girly cry from Araf that made me laugh.
‘What’s the matter,’ I said, ‘haven’t you ever seen a snake before?’
‘That’s impossible,’ Essa said, ‘there are no snakes in The Land.’
‘Well, it looks to me like there are now.’
‘I don’t like this place,’ Fergal said.
I was just about to make some sarcastic quip to Fergal about the obviousness of his statement, but then I saw his face-this place was really stressing him out.
‘None of us does, Fergal,’ I said. ‘We’ll be out of here soon.’ I hoped that wasn’t a lie.
The path here was easier to follow and obviously well used. Fergal took the lead, anxious to have this stretch over with. He was a good three lengths ahead of us when he reached a stretch of the path that was black instead of brown. As soon as his horse’s foot touched it, the black surface seemed to lift off the ground. The path had been covered with flies. Fergal was instantly surrounded by a swarm of black insects. He flailed his arms and kicked his horse into a gallop, trying to outrun them.
We sped after him. It was a terrifying sight. Fergal tried to keep his mount in control while swatting uselessly at his own personal black cloud. It must have been maddening. The sound of incessant buzzing from those oversized bugs was loud from behind-where Fergal was it must have been deafening.
The road ahead forked-we needed to go right if we wanted to get to the border of the Fililands, but Fergal in his panic kept going straight. We followed, not daring to shout. Fergal’s breakneck speed was finally working-the swarm was diminishing. The flies couldn’t keep up. When his vision cleared, Fergal slowed to a halt. I was quite impressed by the fact that during the whole ordeal, he had never shouted out. It didn’t make any difference though-they had seen us.
Fergal and the rest of us were in plain view of a major camp of Banshees. A handful of them were standing around a small fire in front of about fifty tents. They were obviously surprised that the four of us would just gallop into view, but their confusion didn’t last long. One of them let loose a scream and, not unlike the flies, the camp suddenly came alive. Hundreds of black-haired Banshees poured out of their tents. All of them armed, many with bows.
‘I’m not an expert or anything,’ I said as calmly as I could, ‘but I think we should-get the hell out of here.’
‘Good plan,’ Fergal said, and we took off like four mice in a cathouse.
Luckily they were on foot, or we would have been dead meat. As it was, they covered a lot of ground for guys that had just gotten out of bed. We pulled ahead of them, but not as much as I would have liked-these guys were quick as well as handy with the old bows and arrows. I have never been shot at with a gun but I think I would prefer it to being the target of an archer. This was the third time this week someone had fired an arrow at me and I knew it was going to produce nightmares. At least with a gun you can’t see the bullet come at you-arrows you see all the way until they either hit you or miss. It only takes a second but it’s the most frightening second in your life. The other problem is that the relief you feel when one misses you is short-lived, because there are usually more arrows following. After seeing three shafts over my shoulder just narrowly miss me as I galloped at full speed, I turned my attention straight ahead and waited for one to plant itself in my back.
We got to the fork where Fergal had taken the wrong route, and went left. The Banshees were out of bow range and falling behind but we could see that they were not giving up. They let loose an ominous yell when we
