shocked that I had not gone for his weak side that he was completely unprepared for the impact. The Lawnmower pushed his blade back so hard, that his own sword sliced his neck right up to the bone! That’s the problem with tricky sword manoeuvres, the first time they don’t work-they can kill you.
I didn’t have time to marvel at the fact that I had just semi-decapitated a guy with a parry, there was a lot more fighting going on. I looked around-everyone seemed to be doing OK. I almost felt sorry for the guys who were attacking Nieve and Deirdre. I saw one Banshee take a swing at Nieve and bounce off her like he had hit a stone wall. Araf and Essa were using sticks against swords, but the way they used sticks meant that the swords weren’t doing very well. Dad was in a fight with two men. I was about to go and help him when I saw the Banshee with the big hair coming up behind Fergal.
‘Hey, you!’ I shouted as I ran to intercept. ‘Yeah, you with the bad perm!’ He probably didn’t know what a perm was but he understood the tone and knew it wasn’t a compliment.
He turned. The smirk on his face meant he recognised me. Well, I remembered him too. This guy didn’t make the mistake the last guy made. No mad advances, no tricks, he just pointed his sword and walked towards me. Up till now, the Banshees I had fought hadn’t impressed me. Big Hair was the exception-his swordsmanship was good. The two of us cut and parried half a dozen times, trying to size each other up. I was very impressed with his speed. His thrusts were so fast that I had trouble seeing them coming. This was a problem. Dad had taught me to cut and parry until my opponent tired, but I had a feeling his speed would get me before he flagged. I looked for a flaw in his technique and I found it. His attacks were fast but he hesitated a microsecond afterwards to see if he connected. On his next attack I shouted, ‘Ouch!’ even though he missed me. When he looked, I came at him with a quick jab to his shoulder. He saw it coming and twisted out of the way, but lost his footing and went down. I had no moral qualms about attacking this guy on the ground but I didn’t get the chance. He rolled backwards and was on his feet in a flash. I was going to have to work for this one.
And then he did it-the oldest trick in the book. His left hand slid down to the butt of his sword pommel. I thought maybe he had a dagger stashed in there, but when his hand came away seemingly empty, I thought nothing of it. That was a big mistake. He closed the distance between us, brought his sword up, as if to attack-and threw something in my eyes with his left hand. I found out later it was sand that had been soaked in lime juice. It felt like he had thrown pins in my eyes. I was completely blinded. I tried to open them, so I could defend myself, but my eyelids would not obey. I was as good as a dead man. I swung my sword wildly in front of me, while back- pedalling; amazingly the attack failed to come. The bastard was toying with me. I calmed myself and listened. Maybe if I could hear where he was I could get in a lucky stab that might catch him off guard.
I listened-nothing. Then I heard a soft footstep to my left. I didn’t move. I didn’t want him to know I could hear him. He was trying to come up from behind me. It was terrifying. I knew I had to wait until he was in striking distance, but I also knew I could get a blade between my ribs at any second. I waited for one more footfall and I made my move. I spun and sliced into the space I was sure he occupied. My sword hit steel, was parried up and then something hit my hand and I lost my grip. My sword went flying. I was blind and disarmed. I might as well have been naked too. I toyed with the idea of running but I knew that would do no good.
The last time I thought I was going to die, my life flashed before my eyes. I always have hated reruns on TV, so this time I just raised my arms and said, ‘Do your worst.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘I never do my worst,’ said a familiar voice. ‘I always do my best.’ I knew that voice. It definitely was not Big Hair. ‘Master Dahy?’ I asked into the darkness.
‘You were doing well until you let him throw sand in your eyes,’ Dahy said.
‘Where is the Banshee?’
‘He is quite dead,’ Dahy stated. ‘I hated to interfere-but I lost my temper when he used sand. I threw a knife into his neck.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. My knees started to buckle as relief washed over me. I sat down hard. ‘How are the others?’
‘They are all fine, don’t worry. Let us take a look at those eyes.’
He left me and came back with a water skin to rinse out my peepers. They stung like crazy but I was relieved to find that I could see again. I was afraid the Banshee had blinded me for life.
By the time I could use my sore eyes properly, all of the fighting was finished. The ground was littered with dead Banshees. Mom and Nieve were tending Sorley, and no one else seemed to be harmed. I was relieved to see Acorn on his feet. Essa was examining his front legs.
‘Is Acorn OK?’
‘I don’t think anything is broken,’ she said. ‘He was tripped by some sort of rock and rope weapon. You should not ride him for a while.’
‘You’ve got the rest of the week off, old friend,’ I said as I stroked his nose.
He snorted a reply, as if to say, ‘Don’t worry about me.’ What a great horse.
A shout came from Dahy. ‘Deirdre, I think you should look at this!’
Something in his voice made us all gather around. In his hand he held a leather cord with a small gold amulet hanging from it.
‘I found this around the neck of that Banshee with all the hair. It looks like the one that your father used to wear.’
He held it up and showed it to my mother. She gasped and placed her hand over her mouth. Her eyes instantly watered up. ‘I made that for him when I was a little girl,’ Mom said.
A voice behind me spoke with so much venom that I didn’t recognise it. ‘Now we know who destroyed the Hall of Knowledge.’
I turned-it was Essa. You could almost feel the heat from the fire in her eyes.
I always wondered what it would be like to be a celebrity walking into a movie premiere and having hundreds of people pushing, just to get a glimpse of me. Now I know-it’s quite nice. Gerard and Dahy had arrived the night before and had told Lorcan all about us. The news that the one-handed prince, Oisin of the Red Hand, was about to arrive at the camp apparently sent the whole place buzzing. Imps and Leprechauns lined our route and saluted as we passed-even me. Luckily Imps and Leprechauns don’t believe in prophecies much.
Lorcan and Gerard were waiting for us outside of Lorcan’s headquarters in the ruins of the Hall of Knowledge. Lorcan obviously wanted to greet the returning prince of Duir with pomp and ceremony, but Gerard spoiled that idea. As soon as we came into view, Gerard started laughing that infectious laugh of his. Essa broke ranks and ran into her father’s arms. Lorcan was about to salute my father when Gerard stepped forward and took Dad by the shoulders.
‘My gods, Oisin, what has the Real World done to you?’ Gerard’s voice was without his usual mirth.
‘It has made me older, Lord Gerard,’ Dad said.
Gerard smiled. ‘Has it made you wiser?’
‘That is what we are here to find out.’
Gerard nodded in agreement, then gave Dad a big hug. ‘Welcome home, Oisin.’
Lorcan tried once more to introduce himself but Gerard thwarted him again. He grabbed Fergal and me by the neck and then gave us a hug that almost banged our heads together. ‘Well, well, Deirdre, these two young things found you after all.’
‘They did indeed,’ Mom answered, ‘and I am very glad that they found you too. Thank you for looking after them-Lord Gerard.’
Gerard laughed. ‘Ah, they are good boys,’ he said as he tightened his uncomfortable hug. ‘Give them a hundred years and they will make good men.’
We rubbed our sore necks as he approached Mom. ‘Deirdre, you have been too long away. Why did you never contact me?’
‘I did not want to get you into trouble,’ Mom answered.
