The Shadowmagic Trilogy. John Lenahan

into the forest from here. I remembered once seeing razor-wire on top of a fence at an airport. It was barbed wire with razorblades stuck in it. It was the nastiest barrier I had ever seen – not any more.

      ‘My gods!’ Fergal said. ‘Don’t tell me we’re going in here.’

      ‘That is where we are going,’ Essa said, ‘but not through there.’

      ‘Is this the Fililands?’

      ‘Yes, Ona sealed it off with the blackthorns after the Fili war.’

      ‘Do we have to go around? Can’t we hack our way through?’ I said.

      ‘You would be dead before your sword touched them. They can fire those thorns.’

      ‘How about if I asked nicely?’

      ‘Go ahead,’ she said, with a knowing smile I didn’t like.

      I dismounted. I had gotten pretty good at getting on and off Acorn – I wasn’t Robin Hood or anything but I didn’t look like a giraffe on an escalator any more. As I approached the blackthorns I could hear the wood creaking as they pointed their very sharp thorns at me. I instantly felt this was a bad idea. I found one place where I could reach through the thorns and touch a branch. Before I could say a thing a command shot straight into my brain. ‘You have until the count of ten to back off and go away!’ the plant told me.

      ‘But my mom is in there.’ As soon as I said that I realised how pathetic it sounded.

      ‘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 Getal – 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