The tree pulled Jesse’s hands to its trunk. I ran around and touched the tree myself.
‘He really is a friend of mine. I demand he be given the freedom of the Yewlands. I came to see him. He must not be judged.’
The yew didn’t answer, he/she ignored me.
‘HE IS MY FRIEND!’
A movie of Jesse’s life entered my mind as I fell to my knees pleading for the tree to stop. His earliest memories were of nannies who, while outwardly raising him with iron discipline, secretly tried to give him some of the nurturing that every child needs. He was never as fast or as strong as his brother and his father set the tone for the way everyone looked at him. All considered him a weedy child, a sissy. Only his brother gave him the kind of love and defence that he needed. I saw that without his brother, Jesse may not have made it in that tough Brownie world. It made me sad that Frank was dead. Jesse finally, just in the last year, had started coming into himself. His confidence and stature both grew. Now his father began to take pride in him, but Jesse’s newfound prowess was despite his father’s influence not because of it.
The tree pushed me away as it spoke privately with its defendant. Out in the open field the Brownie soldiers were slowly moving closer. I motioned for them to stop and they did. I waited, my heart pounding, for any movement of the branches that bore the yew’s poisonous berries. After what was probably only five minutes but seemed like hours, Jesse stood up, said, ‘Thank you’, and then stepped away from the tree.
‘Are you OK?’
Jesse didn’t reply for the longest time and then nodded yes.
‘Jesse, you passed the judgement.’
‘Yes,’ he said still staring at the yew.
‘Did you receive a gift?’
‘I did,’ he said.
‘What did you get?’
‘The yew asked me what I wanted,’ he said, finally looking at me. ‘I asked for the body of my father.’
I saw him start to stagger. I quickly ran to him and put my arms around his waist. He dropped his head on my shoulder and burst into tears. It didn’t last long. He pushed me away, keeping his back to the rest of the Brownies, and composed himself.
‘This is no way for a captain of the Torkc Guards to behave,’ he said.
‘Don’t you mean – this is no way for the King of the Brownies to behave?’
He looked at me incredulously.
‘Aren’t you the next in line to the throne?’ I asked.
‘I … I guess I am … until a major rune is chosen.’
‘Which I’m sure will be chosen by you.’
Jesse stood for a minute taking this all in, then a tiny smile crossed his face as he wiped the tears from his eyes. ‘Then this is definitely no way for the King of the Brownies to behave.’
‘I think, Your Highness, this is absolutely the right way for a king to behave.’
We carried Bwika out of the forest. Now I know what they mean by dead weight. When we had staggered clear of the yews, Steroid Boy came towards us and drew on me. I dropped Bwika’s legs to defend myself.
‘Prince Conor is under my protection,’ Jesse said.
‘But Captain Codna,’ Steroid Boy began.
‘I think, soldier, the title you should be using is – Your Highness.’
Steroid Boy was obviously not the brightest bulb in the marquee. He looked to the dead king and then to the son. Finally he twigged. ‘Yes, Your Highness.’
‘Make yourself useful, big boy,’ I said, ‘relieve the king of the king.’
This confused Steroid Boy even further until he said, ‘Oh, of course.’ He picked up the late King Bwika. I was pleased to see that even he struggled a bit with the weight of him.
What looked like half of the Brownie nation was waiting for us in the field in front of the camp. Jesse walked up to one of the soldiers and took from him a torch. Then he placed his fingers in his mouth and produced a whistle that made me stick my finger in my ear hole to make sure it wasn’t bleeding. The crowd started to part in the back as Jesse’s horse cantered his way to his master. I smiled to see that the obedient steed was The Turlow’s old horse that I had given him. Jesse handed me his torch and then performed an impressive running mount on the bareback horse. I returned the torch. From atop his mount and in the dramatic flickering light of the flame, King Codna addressed his people.
‘King Bwika is dead. He died under the branches of the yews,’ he shouted, then waited for the murmur to die down. ‘My father was a great king …’
I waited and wondered if he was going to follow that statement with, ‘But not a good father.’
Instead he said, ‘But he was not infallible. He grew up in an age that believed the Alderlands were a place of banishment. Understand, he loved the Brownielands, and Alder Keep, but he believed that our rightful home was there on top of Duir Hill.’
Jesse turned his horse and pointed to Duir, then turned back to his people. He looked more regal with every passing second.
‘I do not know what happened in the first age. I have no magic that can show me what the Ancients did or did not do to our ancestors. But I do know one thing. If they envisioned the Alderlands to be an abyss, a prison we Brownies were supposed to escape from, then they were oh so very wrong. If the Ancients gave us the Alderlands as banishment then they were not as all-knowing as the great stories have said. Because as you all know, when they threw away the Alderlands they threw away Paradise.’
This was good stirring stuff but it was also a tiny bit heretical. I looked around to see what the reaction would be. I didn’t have to wait long.
A voice from the back started it: ‘Codna, Codna.’ It didn’t take long before the chant was taken up by everyone in the field. ‘Codna, Codna, Codna, Codna.’
Jesse held up his hand and silenced the crowd. ‘Prince Conor came here on a mission of peace. He came with information that makes me believe that Cialtie never had any intention of giving us Duir if we win this war.’
A loud murmur rumbled through the crowd. It raised the emotional temperature in the field. Jesse silenced it with two words.
‘No matter … I for one miss my home. I don’t like it here and I don’t think that even all the gold in the mines of Duir are worth the lives of the good Brownies that we will lose in this quarrel. For what will we win? A home we don’t like? And what will happen if we have all the wealth in the land? I’ll tell you what would happen – there would be nothing left to steal. What fun would that be?’
A Fergalish smile overtook my face. Jesse looked to me for affirmation and I bowed my lowest bow.
‘I want to go home,’ King Codna shouted. ‘Are you with me?’
There was no doubting the answer. The Brownies went wild.
When we got back to his tent and we were finally alone, Jesse asked, ‘Was that all right?’
‘All right?’ I said, ‘All right? What are you talking about? That was awesome.’
‘Oh gods, Conor, how can I be king?’
‘Just like that, Jesse,’ I said. ‘I’ve never seen anything more kingly in my life.’
He smiled and held his hand out for me to shake. It was still trembling.
‘Screw that,’ I said and gave him a big hug.
Jesse gave me back the Lawnmower and sent someone out to retrieve my yew staff. Outside, the Brownie camp was wasting no time packing up to go home. Jesse gave me a sitting harness that Brownies use to sit in trees and I tied that to my staff.
‘Long live King Codna,’ I said.
‘Maybe I should call myself King Jesse,’ then he crumpled his face and said, ‘maybe not. Goodbye Conor, I shall always remember what you said, “No one can unmake us friends.”’
‘And now I hope no one can ever make us enemies again.’ I bowed once more to the new king and commanded my yew staff to lift me into the night. When I had well cleared the treetops I fired one of my mother’s Shadowmagic flares and waited comfortably in my new harness.
It only took a couple of minutes for Tuan to show up. He had been flying around as a bat waiting for me so he had lost his saddle. It took me three attempts at landing on his back before I held on long enough to get my balance and crawl into a decent riding position.
Tuan gave me evil looks all the way home. He’s good at it in his dragon face. When we landed in the courtyard of Castle Duir, the dragon turned into Tuan again and instantly gave me an earful.
‘What took you so long? I was flapping around in the dark for hours.’
‘Sorry. Eh … could you put some clothes on?’
‘I almost went into the Brownie camp all flames-a-flaming.’
‘I’m really sorry but it got complicated. I’m glad you didn’t fly in. Bwika’s dead and the Brownies are going back to the Alderlands.’
‘What? How did you do that?’
‘I’ll tell you when there is less of you to see. Will you get dressed please?’
For the sake of modesty, Tuan turned into his wolfhound and went in search of one of his several clothes stashes as I made my way to a bed. I always find this waking in bondage thing exhausting. I just wanted sleep.
An honour guard intercepted me before I even got under a roof and I was unceremoniously escorted to the War Room. I felt like a prisoner. ‘You guys know I’m a prince, right?’ They all said they did but that didn’t stop them from insisting I go with them. I toyed with the idea of testing whether I was, in fact, free to go to my room but I just didn’t have the strength for those kinds of games. Saying that, I was pretty sure I was in big trouble with my friends and family for escaping on Tuan-back – I wasn’t sure I had the strength for this meeting either.
Behind me I heard Tuan. I turned to see him with his own soldiers. ‘I would advise you to take your hand off my arm,’ he said with a very animal-like growl, ‘unless you want to be holding on to the arm of a bear.’ The guard let go quickly.
Essa was in the hallway outside the meeting room. She ran at me and I immediately put my arms up to defend myself – this was Essa after all – but she wrapped her arms around my neck and said, ‘Thank the gods you’re all right.’
‘Maybe I should go for a late night walk more often.’
Essa pushed back. ‘You weren’t walking. You were flying with Tuan.’
‘Oh you know about that?’
‘Everyone knows about that,’ Essa said. ‘Your mother performed an emergency Shadowcasting to find out where you were. The casting said you were in the Yewlands. Your father mobilised an entire platoon to figure out a way to get you.’
‘Oh, so maybe they’re a little mad at me?’
Essa’s face went through four seasons of emotions. She laughed, then her eyes welled up, then she looked like she was going to hit me before she re-hugged me and said, ‘I thought I would never see you again.’
‘Hey, I ain’t going anywhere,’ I said, smoothing her hair. ‘You’re stuck with me for a long time.’
She looked up at me; her face was inches from mine. ‘How long?’
‘For ever,’ I said. ‘That is if my mother doesn’t kill me in the next ten minutes.’
A cough from behind broke our embrace. It was Dahy. ‘The king demands your presence.’ He looked embarrassed at interrupting us.
‘I thought you would be mad at me too.’
‘I’m furious,’ the old general said, ‘but kissing a sweetheart in a time of war is an important thing.’
‘Well, Dahy! I never realised what an old softie you are.’
‘Careful, Conor,’ he said as he motioned me through the door.
Everybody was there: Mom, Dad, Dahy, Lorcan, Nieve, Fand, Brendan, Nora, Gerard, Eth, two Runelords I didn’t know and half a dozen other uniformed types and they all looked awfully mad at me. Dad had that look I had only seen a couple of times before. It was where he was so mad that he actually couldn’t get the first syllables out of his mouth. Mom, whom I didn’t have as much experience reading, had a face like I had never seen before.
I decided to head off what was coming. ‘Bwika’s dead,’ I said calmly. ‘Codna is king and the Brownies are no longer at war with us. They are on their way back to the Alderlands now.
If Dad found it difficult speaking before, he found it impossible now. It was a nice moment. Mom stepped up. ‘Could you tell us this news again, Conor, and extrapolate a bit.’
So I did. I told them the whole tale leaving out only what I had used on Tuan to blackmail him into giving me a lift.
When I finished Dad said, ‘You could have been taken hostage. You could have compromised us all.’
‘I know it was stupid. I promise I won’t do it again, but right now I need to put my head down. Can I go to bed now, Mommy and Daddy?’
I stood up and had one of those head rushes I get when I stand up too fast on the same day that I’ve been knocked unconscious. Essa jumped up and gave me a hand. We were almost at the door when Graysea burst in.
‘You’re safe,’ she gushed, taking my arm away from Essa. She placed her hand on my neck and announced, ‘He is exhausted. I am taking him straight to bed.’
Essa looked miffed and took my other arm. For a second I thought she was going to start pulling and I was going to be drawn and quartered by competing women.
Nieve behind me said, ‘Now to our Shadow defences.’
Essa had to stay for that meeting. She let go of my arm and said to Graysea, ‘Take good care of him.’
I thought that maybe I should stay too, but then I figured I had just cut the size of the attacking force by half – that was enough for a day. War would have to be planned without me.
Graysea walked me back to my room and lay down in my bed with me. When I started to protest she shushed me and then sprouted gills in her neck and a fin. I had bruises and rope burns and contusions that were so all over I hadn’t even noticed how bad I felt until my mermaid doctor melted them all away.
‘I thought I told you to stop doing that for everybody.’
‘You were right; I was overextending myself in the infirmary. I am now only healing in the urgent cases. But you, dear sweet Conor,’ she kissed me on the cheek as she got up and walked to the door, ‘are not everybody. Sleep.’
Sleep came instantly. I had one of those strange movie dreams where I was a private detective. I was waiting in my 1920s decorated office when in came a beautiful client. It was Maeve, the girl from the tea shop in Connemara. She wore red lipstick and a low-cut red dress that had a slit that showed off her shapely right leg as she walked. She said she wanted to find her real mother and I agreed when she paid me in advance – with a pair of Nikes.
I put on the sneakers; they didn’t go with my grey suit and fedora but hey, this was my dream. I wandered through countless speakeasies and police stations until, finally, I told Connemara Maeve I had found her mother. Together we drove up a long gated driveway of a Hollywood house that looked like it belonged to a movie star. The door opened and my Irish client came face to face with her mother – it was Maeve. The other Maeve, the outlawed Queen of the Druids, the tree killer that almost destroyed all of The Land with her corruption of Shadowmagic – the Maeve that was brought back from some abyss by the spilled blood of Ruby. She looked at the Irish girl and said, ‘Who are you?’
I turned to my glamorous client but she no longer wore makeup and was dressed in her modest tea-shop waitress’s uniform. ‘Tell her,’ she said.
I opened my eyes with a start. On either side of my bed stood two burly soldiers in green-stained leather armour. At the foot of my bed a wild-haired woman, also in green leathers, stood staring at me with eyes that had almost no colour at all. I sat up in bed my heart pounding.
‘I was just dreaming about you,’ I said.