Rune of Duir, and in the other hand the Sword of Duir. The roar that went out was deafening. After several tries Dad silenced the throng and put his arm around my shoulder.
‘People of The Land,’ he shouted, ‘this is my son of whom I am exceedingly proud-I give you-Conor of Duir!’
The crowd just went crazy. I used to want to be a rock superstar but after that experience, I’ll take being the son of the two-handed prince any day.
The week that followed was mad. Reconstruction of the eastern wall started immediately. News of Dad capturing the throne and regaining his hand spread even faster than if they had television around here. Dignitaries poured in every day to meet with Pop.
Mom and Nieve spent most of their time tending to the wounded. Dad would wheel me out periodically to meet Lord Whoosit or Lady What’s-her-Name but other than that I really didn’t have much to do.
There was a nice moment when Dad sent for me to meet the king of the Brownies and his two sons. I entered from the rear of the throne room, nipped up next to Dad and without looking bowed just like Pop taught me to. When I straightened up I saw a very potbellied Brownie flanked by two open-mouthed youths.
‘Frank, Jesse, how the hell are you?’
A look of terror crossed Frank’s face as I walked towards him. He pulled his head back from his father’s peripheral vision and shook his head. The desperado boys had obviously not told their father about their little walkabout.
‘You know my sons?’ the Brownie king asked.
I walked up close and looked each of them square in the eyes from about six inches away. I was close enough to see the sweat form on their brows-it was fun.
I backed off. ‘I’m sorry, your highness, I don’t see very well since my ordeal in the battle, I am mistaken.’
As they left, Jesse glanced back smiling and slipped me a little wave.
‘What was that about?’ Dad asked.
‘I’ll tell you later,’ I said.
I left the throne room and sent a message to Dahy to have the two Brownie boys’ luggage searched by the porters before they left. I found out later they both had a couple of choice souvenirs in their bags.
I got tired of everybody gaping and bowing to me everywhere I went, so I spent most of my time sitting in my room trying to piece Cialtie’s wooden box back together and thinking of Fergal. So when I heard that Lorcan was returning to the Hazellands to clear out his old headquarters, I jumped at the chance to go.
I overslept on the morning we were supposed to leave. I still hadn’t gotten used to the luxury of sleeping in clean sheets and in a soft bed. I ran down to the courtyard to see a stern-looking Lorcan and his guard all mounted and waiting for me. I ran into the stables to get Cloud (Acorn was still on the disabled list)-and imagine my delight when I saw Mom saddling up. ‘Are you coming?’
‘Nieve can handle what is left of the wounded, and more importantly, I have not spent enough time with my son.’
‘Cool,’ I said.
‘Yes, it is pleasant out.’
Araf came in and chose a horse.
‘Are you coming too?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he replied, with one word more than usual.
Lorcan set a swift pace. I think he was trying to punish me for being late. Cloud seemed to be obeying not only my commands but my thoughts. I’m not sure if it was because she was responding to the glorious morning or I was becoming a pretty good equestrian. I’d like to think it was the latter. I didn’t imagine it was possible but the place seemed even more alive than before. The air was crisp and clear and the colours of the landscape were more vivid than ever. It was as if Tir na Nog itself knew that the proper order had once again come to The Land.
We camped that night out in the open on the edge of the Eadthlands. Lorcan’s guards sang songs and passed around some sort of Leprechaun brew that made me feel shorter. Mom told tales of the Fili and Shadowmagic. You could see how delighted she was that these things were, by the order of the new king, no longer forbidden. The only one who seemed not to be enjoying himself was Araf. I went over to where he was sitting.
‘You seem awfully quiet tonight,’ I said, ‘and when you seem quiet that’s saying something.’
‘Quiet, yes. That’s the problem,’ he said, staring into his mug of Leprechaun-shine. ‘I often would pray that Fergal would just stop babbling so I could have a chance to think. I never imagined how painful silence could be.’
‘Yeah, I miss him too.’
We sat for a while in painful silence before I said, ‘You know, I can babble on good as anyone.’
And I did. I told him all about the Real World and my life with Dad. How we lived in Ireland and then England before we came to Scranton, Pennsylvania. I explained: TV and shopping malls, soccer and baseball, hamburger joints and airplanes.
When I had finished he said, ‘You have devices that toast bread with a touch of a button and machines that fly? It surely must be a magical place.’
I laughed-then thought-maybe he was right.
I spent the next day riding abreast with Mom. She told me about the history of the Hall of Knowledge, her childhood in the Hazellands and stories of my grandparents. By the time we were ready to camp for our second night, she had just about reached the part where she discovered her home destroyed. The rest of our party sensed the seriousness of our conversation and left us alone.
‘It must have been horrible for you,’ I said. ‘I can’t even imagine what it must have been like.’
‘To be honest, son, I was so consumed by rage, I do not truly remember much. I knew the Fili were the only ones that could help me with my revenge. As it transpired, they did not help me with revenge-only my rage.’
‘Now that you know it was the Banshees from the Reedlands, do you think Cialtie had anything to do with it?’
‘I would be lying if I said that thought did not cross my mind. We know he is capable of terrible things, but he has done one thing for which I am truly grateful. He brought you back to me.’
The next day we rode parallel to the blackthorn wall. The thorns pointed at us in respect to Mom as we passed-a creaky vegetable Mexican wave. When we reached the scorched border of the Hazellands, Mom stopped, dismounted and stared into her former home. She looked lost. I dismounted and stood beside her.
‘Are you OK, Mom?’
‘I have been back here twice,’ she said. Her voice betrayed the slightest of trembles. ‘The last time was with you. We had pressing business then and I performed a Fili concentration trick on myself so as not to think about it. The time before that was when I found it destroyed.’
‘If you want to go back I will ride with you.’
She turned and smiled at me-a pained smile, the same expression I had seen recently in the mirror when I thought of Fergal stealing my shoes.
‘Thank you, son, but no. I have delayed this too long. But first there is something I must do. Lorcan!’ she called to guards who had been waiting a respectful distance away. ‘Bear witness to this.’
Mom stood with her back to the thorns. Lorcan and his men dismounted and stood to attention around her in a semicircle.
Mom drew her yew wand and spoke. ‘By order of Oison, Chooser of the Rune of Duir, I forthwith lift the banishment of the Fili and once again grant all of the peoples of The Land the freedom of the Fililands.’
She touched her wand to the blackthorn wall, incanted and stood back. Nothing happened at first-but then began that spooky creaking sound, the sound that usually means the plant is about to kill you. This time the thorns parted, leaving a huge archway large enough for at least four horsemen to ride abreast.
Although they were standing to attention, Lorcan and his men strained their necks to get the first glimpse of the Fililand in a generation-and a generation is a long time around here. The ominous rowan forest was lush and shadowy-the exact opposite of where we were standing. It took a moment for our eyes to adjust to the dark, green leaf-filtered light. A gasp went though the crowd as Fand appeared. Like some TV magician’s optical illusion, she seemed to appear right out of a tree trunk. Behind her, dozens of other Fili seemed to fade in from nothing.
Fand stopped at the edge of the archway. She looked at Mom and me and said in that soft voice of hers, ‘I
