The Shadowmagic Trilogy. John Lenahan

she was a Banshee – this was Fergal’s mother. It was the moment of his birth. Breithe was the midwife, but who was the mother?

      The contractions stopped. The Banshee mother fell back into the bed, her face still obscured. Breithe said, ‘It’s almost over, Mná dear,’ and pushed the hair away from the mother’s face. Mná! Dad had just mentioned that name – she was Cialtie’s Banshee sorceress. The one who had bewitched Eth and had made the screaming shell for Cialtie in the race. That’s when the realisation shot through my mind like a lightning bolt – if his mother is Mná, then his father must be … then he walked into the vision, Fergal’s father – Cialtie.

      A gasp went through the group. Why didn’t I see this coming? Mná looked up and saw that Cialtie had entered. She pushed her hair back in an attempt to look better and smiled at him. ‘Is it done?’ she asked.

      Cialtie smiled broadly. ‘It is done.’

      ‘Now you are king?’

      ‘Soon.’

      Mná smiled. ‘And I shall be your queen.’

      Cialtie’s smile vanished. ‘I don’t think so.’

      Mná sat up, confused.

      ‘You don’t think I could have a Banshee for a queen, do you?’ Cialtie said Banshee like it was a profanity. ‘What would people say?’

      Mná went to attack him but was struck by another set of contractions. She fell back onto the bed, screaming. Breithe came up behind Cialtie and told him that he should leave and not upset the girl. Cialtie answered her with a backhanded punch that sent her across the tent, unconscious on the floor.

      ‘You have been very helpful,’ Cialtie said to Mná, ‘but I’m afraid your usefulness has run out.’

      I don’t know if Mná was screaming from the pain of labour or because she saw the sword – either way, the screaming stopped abruptly when Cialtie chopped her head off.

      Fergal freaked. He screamed, ‘No!’ and tried to stand.

      Mom reached through the fire and grabbed him by the collar. ‘It is dangerous to leave before we are done.’ Her voice meant business.

      ‘Please,’ Fergal cried. His face was soaked with tears. ‘Don’t make me watch this.’

      ‘I don’t want to see any more either, Fergal, but we must. The Shadowmagic would crush us if we broke the casting. We are almost finished.’

      I wasn’t sure if I was allowed or not, but I had to go to him. I got up and sat next to Fergal and put my arm around him. Araf did the same on the other side and Essa held him from behind. Sobs racked Fergal as, together, we watched to the end.

      In the vision we saw Cialtie pick up an oil lamp and walk to the entrance of the tent, then without emotion he smashed the lamp on the ground. He turned and exited, leaving the tent aflame. Breithe came to before the flames reached her. I wish I had met her – she must have been a remarkable woman. When she saw what had happened to Mná, she allowed herself only a second of horror – then she pulled a knife from her sock, jumped on the bed to avoid the flames, and went to work. Breithe performed a Caesarean section. She made a careful incision in Mná’s midriff and gently removed Fergal from his dead mother’s body. Just as swiftly, she tied off the umbilical cord, cut through the side of the tent and escaped into the night – leaving the evidence of Fergal’s birth to burn behind her.

      ‘It is done,’ Deirdre said, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion.

      Fergal collapsed, shaking, on Araf’s lap. He was beyond weeping, he was, as the Irish say, keening. A soft, constant wail came from his throat. There was nothing to say. What could I say? I remembered a friend who was adopted who had hired a detective to find her real mother. She told me that all of her life she had dreamt that her real parents were some sort of aristocracy and she was really a princess. She told me how much it hurt when she found that her mother was just a poor, uneducated woman who had tried to forget her. I saw how much pain that caused her; I couldn’t imagine what Fergal was going through.

      Fand left to prepare a sleeping draught. We got Fergal to his feet and by the time we arrived at our room he was amazingly calm. Araf and I offered to help him get ready for bed, but he shooed us away. He said he wanted to just lie and think, and he promised he would take the sleeping draught in a little while.

      Outside, a voice came out of the dark. ‘How is he?’ It was Essa.

      ‘Who knows? I’m freaked out after seeing that stuff,’ I said. ‘Fergal won’t get over this in a hurry.’

      Essa nodded. ‘I too won’t be able to sleep. Would you like to walk for a bit?’

      ‘Go on,’ Araf said, ‘I will keep watch here until Fergal sleeps.’

      The night had gotten so dark, walking was actually dangerous. The first thing I did was trip over a small boulder.

      ‘Are you alright?’ Essa said, with a tone that sounded like real concern.

      ‘Ow, I hurt my leg, but hey, I only need it for walking.’

      ‘Let me have a look,’ she said as she crouched down.

      ‘How are you going to look? If there was any light around here I wouldn’t have smashed into the damn rock.’

      Essa turned her palms face up in front of her and closed her eyes and whispered, ‘Lampróg.’

      A light twinkled in the distance and came at us, and as it got closer I actually had to shield my eyes. It was one of those nuclear-powered fireflies. Another came from behind me. They landed on Essa’s fingers as she looked at my bruised shin. ‘It’s only a little bump, you baby.’

      ‘Hey, you’re the one that’s making the big deal out of it. I just said I hurt my leg. You’re the one who went all Florence Nightingale on me.’

      ‘Florence who?’

      ‘Never mind, why don’t we just sit here for a while.’

      She sat opposite me, cross-legged. A firefly landed on each knee, she whispered to them and they dimmed.

      ‘Can you teach me the firefly trick, or is it a chick thing?’

      ‘I don’t know what a chick thing is but you have to be a bit of a sorcerer to do it. Since Deirdre is your mother, I think you could be taught.’

      She smiled at me, her face bathed in firefly light. She was beautiful and I desperately wanted to kiss her, but the last time I kissed her – she decked me.

      Like she was reading my mind, she said, ‘I’m sorry I hit you back there in the Reedlands.’

      ‘Don’t worry about it. It was a learning experience. Next time I’m in a life-or-death situation with a beautiful woman – I’ll ask before I kiss her.’

      ‘I didn’t hit you because of the kiss. I hit you because you sounded like you were giving up.’

      ‘So you liked the kiss then?’

      ‘I didn’t say that,’ she said, smiling a Mona Lisa-like smile that I couldn’t quite read.

      I returned her smile with a swashbuckling grin. ‘Let me put it this way – if I were to kiss you now, would you punch my lights out again?’

      ‘I’m not sure, that is just the chance you will have to take.’

      I looked deep into her eyes. I had to make sure I was reading this right. The girl packed a serious punch and I had had enough concussions for a week – hell, for a lifetime. I held her gaze and her eyes gave it away. She wasn’t looking for a fight. I was sure of it. At least, I think I was. If I got this wrong, I decided I was going to become a monk.

      I leaned in and so did she. There is nothing like a first kiss. When I was