The Shadowmagic Trilogy. John Lenahan

of sight before I dared to speak.

      ‘Well, that was fun,’ I said, trying to sound cooler than I felt. ‘Who were all those dead people?’

      ‘Archers mostly,’ Dad replied.

      ‘Why archers?’

      ‘The best bows are made from yew; if you want to be a master archer, you have to ask a yew tree for wood.’

      ‘And those were the guys that didn’t make the grade?’

      He nodded.

      ‘Have you ever been judged by a yew?’

      ‘Not me, I was never much of an archer. Good thing too – one-handed archers are traditionally not very good.’

      ‘I have,’ my mother said, in a faraway voice that sent a shiver down my spine. ‘I have been judged by a yew. Next to giving up my son, it was the hardest thing I have ever done.’

      I thought that maybe she wasn’t going to say anything more – her face told me it was a memory that was painful to remember. I waited – she took a deep breath and went on. ‘The place you saw with the altar is called the Sorceress’ Glade. Like archers with their bows, a true sorceress must translate a spell onto a yew branch.’

      ‘What, like a magic wand?’

      ‘If you like.’

      ‘And you were judged?’

      In reply she reached into her pouch and produced a plain-looking stick, carved with linear symbols.

      ‘What does it do?’

      ‘It gives me power over the thorns,’ she said.

      ‘Huh?’

      ‘You will understand when we reach the Fililands.’

      We were floating by fragrant fields of heather, inhabited by sheep, rabbits and deer. I even saw a black bear fishing on a bank. It was like a 3-D Disney film. I almost expected the bear to wave.

      ‘How did you become a sorceress?’

      ‘Her father,’ Dad said, ‘wanted to make a superwoman.’

      ‘My father wanted his daughter to be educated,’ Mom corrected. ‘He hired twelve tutors to teach me in the arts, philosophies, combat and magic. I loved all my tutors, almost as much as I loved my father for providing them for me. Of all my studies, it was at magic that I excelled. Against my father’s wishes, I made the pilgrimage to the Sorceress’ Glade with my tutor, my mentor, my friend.’ Mom fell silent and sadness invaded her face.

      ‘It was Nieve,’ Dad said.

      ‘Nieve? My Aunt Nieve? The one who tried to pierce my sternum with a javelin?’

      ‘I am sure she took no joy from that task,’ Mom said. ‘Nieve has a very strong sense of duty.’

      ‘Could you give her a call and maybe we could sit down and talk about this?’

      ‘Nieve and I have not spoken to one another for a long time,’ she said.

      ‘Because of me?’

      ‘No, before that, when I left her guidance to study Shadowmagic.’

      Shadowmagic – there was that word again. Every time someone mentioned it, they sounded like they were selling a stolen watch in an alley.

      ‘What is the deal with this Shadowmagic stuff?’

      ‘Magic is never without cost,’ she said. ‘Like wood is to a fire, gold is to magic. Gold is the power that is made by the earth. In order to cast a spell you need to spend gold. The greater the spell, the more gold you need. That is what they call, here in The Land, Truemagic. Gold is not the only power in the world, it is just the easiest to find and use. There is power in the air and the water, that is too difficult to control, and then there is another power – the power of nature that can be found in the trees. Harnessing this power is the force behind Shadowmagic. It is not as powerful, but it can do things that Truemagic cannot.’

      ‘So what does Nieve have against it?’

      ‘Shadowmagic is illegal,’ Father said.

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Ages ago,’ Mom explained, ‘in the early reign of Finn, there was a Fili sorceress named Maeve. Maeve detected power in amber stones and devised a way to use amber to power magic. Since amber is only petrified tree sap, she started to use fresh sap, the blood of trees, to power her magic. She became very powerful and that power drove her mad. She decimated an entire forest and used its energy to raise a huge army. Maeve and her army laid siege to Castle Duir. No one knows what happened – it is believed that in the midst of the battle, Maeve cast a mammoth spell that catastrophically failed. Maeve and all of the Fili army were killed. Afterwards, Finn outlawed Shadowmagic and decreed that Maeve’s name should never be uttered again. The Fili were so decimated it was thought they were extinct.’

      ‘You found them, I take it?’

      ‘Yes. Maeve’s daughter Fand lives.’

      ‘And she taught you Shadowmagic?’

      ‘She was reluctant at first. She was deeply ashamed of her mother, of the wars and death and the forest she destroyed, but deep down she knew that it was her mother that was wrong, not her magic. Together, we found and read Maeve’s notes to try and find out what happened. It was the killing of trees that corrupted her soul. We found trees that agreed to allow us to tap them for sap, and we swore never to kill a tree. We revived the art of Shadowmagic and found that it was good. Just as valid as Truemagic. After all, the yew wand is an integral part of Truemagic but at its heart, it is actually Shadowmagic.’

      ‘Did you ever try to convince Nieve?’

      ‘Oh yes. When I returned from the Fililands I told her about it. She was shocked and appalled that I would do such a thing. As I mentioned before she has a strong sense of duty, but she agreed to discuss it again.’

      ‘And what happened?’

      ‘We never had that talk.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘I was banished,’ Mom said.

      ‘Banished?’

      ‘Yup,’ Dad said, ‘your mother here is an outlaw. A regular Ma Barker.’

      ‘Who banished you?’

      ‘Finn,’ she said.

      ‘Finn, my grandfather? Why?’

      ‘Your mother performed a very public display of Shadowmagic in front of almost every Runelord in The Land. My father had no choice.’

      ‘He should have had me executed,’ she said.

      ‘What happened?’

      ‘That is part of the tale of how your father lost his hand. Not only is it a long-overdue story – it is a long one as well. I know a shelter up ahead. We can camp for the night and you can hear the tale properly over food and a fire.’

      Food and fire, now that was a good idea. After paddling all day and the stress of the Yewlands, I was overdue for a break.

      The meadows of heather gave way to fields of tremendously tall holly trees. We pulled the boat ashore and stashed it under a bush. (Mother of course asked the holly for permission.) We walked a faint path until we saw a stone hut with a thatched roof.

      ‘This is a lovely Gerard hut,’ Mom said.

      ‘Is Gerard home?’

      ‘I shouldn’t think so.’ Dad laughed. ‘Gerard is an old Runelord who likes to travel. He built a bunch of these huts so he wouldn’t have to sleep out-of-doors.’

      ‘Well,’ I said,