The Shadowmagic Trilogy. John Lenahan

Fergal said, ‘I would like you to meet Conor. Conor, Esus.’

      ‘Good evening,’ I said, bowing in the same manner as Araf.

      The tall man bowed back, but only slightly.

      ‘Esus,’ Fergal explained, ‘is the Elf that takes care of the trees around Castle Ur.’

      ‘You’re an Elf?’ I blurted before I could stop myself.

      ‘I have that distinction – yes.’

      ‘Well,’ I said, trying to recover my composure, ‘some of my best friends are Elves.’

      ‘Oh yes,’ Esus said, ‘who?’

      What a stupid thing to say. What was I going to do now? This was the first person I had met in The Land that I hadn’t tried to stab – I was starting to miss my old method of greeting people.

      ‘Ah … Legolas. Do you know him?’

      ‘No,’ said Esus. ‘What clan is he in?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Hey, when I said best friends, I really meant acquaintances.’

      The awkward moment was saved by the arrival of our wine. Fergal and even Araf got very excited.

      ‘Ah, my first taste of the new vintage. To Gerard and his vines,’ Fergal toasted, and we all clinked our mugs.

      I’m not a real big fan of wine. Oh, I’ll have the odd glass at a posh dinner, but by and large I’d rather have a beer any day of the week; but this was wine I would sell my soul for. It was the nectar of the gods. I had an image of Bacchus, the Roman wine god, waltzing in and throwing a barrel of this stuff over his shoulder.

      I don’t know why I was so surprised that this was the finest wine I had tasted, as everything I had tried in The Land had been the best thing I had ever seen or smelt or tasted – but surprised I was. ‘Wow! This is awesome!’ I shouted, so loud that everyone around the bar turned to look.

      ‘It’s alright,’ Esus said, dropping his voice to a whispered, ‘I think Gerard is skimping on the gold a bit this year – but so is everyone.’

      ‘You mean there is better wine than this?’ I said, between slurps.

      That was a mistake. Esus went into a litany of vintages, giving detailed descriptions of each year’s colour, flavour and bouquet. He was a wine bore. I spotted it instantly and didn’t even try to keep up. While I pretended to listen to him, I contemplated meeting my first Elf. He didn’t look like an Elf. Here I was in a room full of Elves, Imps, Banshees and God knows what else and everyone looked so – normal. To be honest I was a bit disappointed. In the back of my mind I wanted this party to be like the Cantina scene in Star Wars, but it seems that the difference between an Elf and a Banshee is like the difference between a Norwegian and an Italian. Sure, you could tell the difference, but underneath they were all pretty much the same.

      The sun had almost set, and the light shining through the vine trellis was waning. Just as I thought, We could use a little light in here, as if on cue about twenty of the waiting staff entered the room each holding a small pyramid of glowing gold wire balls. A handsome and distinguished man, also holding five glowing wire balls, strode into the centre of the room. The golden glow from his hands was brighter than all of the others – it illuminated his purple velvet outfit and his silver beard, and twinkled in ancient but still-mischievous eyes. He looked like a king out of a pack of cards. The crowd parted and applauded as he made his way to a small dais in the centre of the room.

      Fergal nudged my side. ‘Look, it’s Gerard.’

      Gerard tried to raise his hand to quiet the crowd and almost dropped the balls he was holding. He laughed heartily at this, as did everyone. We all quietened down to hear.

      ‘My good friends,’ he boomed, and I instantly knew he meant it – he loved these people and they loved him. ‘Welcome to Muhn. Every year I am amazed and humbled that so many of you would travel so far just to sample my newest vintage.’

      Someone shouted, ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world!’ and the assemblage replied with a, ‘Hear, hear!’

      ‘Thank you,’ Gerard continued. ‘I am especially heartened that so many of you have come for this harvest. I know how difficult a time you have had this year.’

      The crowd mumbled. I heard Esus whisper, ‘That’s a first.’

      ‘What is?’ I asked.

      ‘Gerard never makes political statements like that.’

      ‘But as you know,’ Gerard continued, ‘Castle Muhn is no place for talk like that – even by me. Anyone heard grumbling tonight will be tossed out of my highest window’ – this brought laughter and cheers – ‘for tonight is a celebration!’

      At that, he threw the five glowing balls he was holding up into the air and began to juggle. All of the servants threw theirs, and all at once the air was full of cascading, glowing wire orbs. The jugglers then began to pass the balls among themselves. Guests everywhere were ducking as glowing missiles just missed their heads. Now I have done a bit of juggling in my day and I can tell you – these were no ordinary juggling balls. The jugglers weren’t even breaking a sweat. They never dropped one or hit anybody and if you watched closely, you could see sometimes the balls waited until the juggler was ready before they fell back to earth.

      Someone shouted, ‘Hup,’ and all of the jugglers threw their remaining balls high in the air, where they just kept on going! The balls intertwined themselves with the vine trellis and then glowed even brighter. They bathed the room in golden light. The applause, the hoots and hollering were deafening. The music kicked in and the party truly began.

      Fergal slapped me on the back and said, ‘We need some food!’

      Food! Every time I heard that, I thought, What a good idea. We weaved our way through vines of people until we came upon what looked like a five-acre buffet table. I have never seen so much food. Who was it all for? It made me worry that the busload of three-headed Giants and Trolls hadn’t arrived yet. I found a plate and just piled it on. I took a little bit of everything – if the apples were anything to go by, this was going to be the best meal of my life. I stopped when the food on my plate started to resemble the Leaning Tower of Pisa. One more crumb and I would have had a spilled food disaster of horrific proportions.

      I looked up to find that I had lost my friends. I searched around a bit but I couldn’t see them. I couldn’t risk weaving through the crowd looking for them with this overflowing plate, so I sat down alone in a nearby chair. My intention was to try to eat the top off my food mountain until it was transportable. The food was so good, my moaning drew stares. I chomped in ecstasy as I spied on the other guests. I was starting to figure stuff out. Banshees and Elves were mostly tall, with Banshees being dark while the Elves were fair. Imps were shorter and, as a rule, built like bowling pins, including the women. There were others that looked like they could have been TV presenters and still more that I couldn’t put into any category I knew yet. I was also starting to gauge how old people were without seeing their eyes. A sense of seniority poured out of some like an aura. The way they talked and walked, or just held themselves, made it easy to separate the young ones from the elders.

      A large dance started up. It looked like fun, but unbelievably complicated. It seemed as if the dance was designed for the room. Partners held hands and then danced around the statues in circles of eight, then sixteen, or more if a statue was on its side, and then as if they all had a secret radio in their ears, they made a huge undulating circle around the room before somehow finding their partners again. It was lucky they were immortals because it probably took a couple of hundred years to learn it.

      The monument of food on my lap had vanished. My stomach was full and the wine had pleasantly gone to my head. I was just about to dance my way through the room and search for my newfound friends when I was overcome by an awful pang of guilt. I slumped in my chair and thought, What right do I