Читать книгу Prince of Hazel and Oak - John Lenahan - Страница 11

I listened for the sound of smashing furniture as I approached Brendan’s room. Frick (or was it Frack) said that he had been eerily silent. I stuck my head around the door and found Brendan in bed staring at the ceiling.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m still here, aren’t I?’

‘As far as I can tell, yes.’

‘Then I’m not all right.’

‘So you’re just going to sulk?’

‘What else is there to do?’ he said. ‘I’m stuck here for at least a year. God knows what my life, my career and my little girl will be like in a year’s time. I’m under house arrest, followed around by two dolts who keep staring at me like they expect horns to grow out of my head. And I can’t even read a book ’cause everything is written in some ancient language that, although I can magically speak it and understand it, I can’t read it. And before you offer – there is no way I’m going to let that aunt of yours do that molten gold thing to my eyes.’

‘I’m sorry, Brendan, but this isn’t my fault and there is nothing I can do.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’ve been lying here thinking about it all morning – it’s my fault.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t say that. How about we say it’s nobody’s fault?’

‘No,’ Brendan sighed. ‘It’s my fault. It started when I arrested an innocent man. Don’t get me wrong, I had pretty good reason but, in the end, I arrested a man for a crime that not only had he not committed – it was a crime that never even happened. No good can ever come from something that starts like that. So as much as I would like to blame you – this is mostly my fault.’

‘Well, if you insist,’ I said, ‘but don’t beat yourself up too much – it could have happened to anyone.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, finally looking at me. ‘So this is really … real then?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘And I have been acting like a serious jerk?’

‘That too, I’m afraid, is true.’

Brendan placed his hand over his face in embarrassment. ‘Oh my God, I rapped on your father’s forehead like it was a door. Oh, I am so sorry, Conor.’

‘Yeah, that was pretty bad.’

‘Oh and the furniture and the … I really am sorry, Conor,’ he said, sitting up. ‘But in my defence, I did think I was going to wake up at any moment.’

‘Fair enough, apology accepted.’ I held out my hand. ‘Shall we start over?’

‘I’d like that,’ he said, shaking it.

I had come in to tell him that I was leaving for a few days but instead I said, ‘How about a road trip?’

That piqued his interest. ‘To where?’

‘The Hazellands.’

‘Isn’t that where the Leprechaun army is stationed?’

‘Oh my gods, you were listening to me.’

‘I’m a man of my word, Conor. I didn’t believe or care about your story the first time you babbled it but the second time I promised I would listen and I did. Since Fand convinced me I wasn’t dreaming, I’ve been going over your adventure in my head. Did all of that stuff really happen?’

‘Yes,’ I said, chuckling. ‘Don’t feel bad about not believing me. I sometimes have trouble believing it myself. But to answer your question, no, the Leprechaun army was disbanded and I don’t know what’s there now.’

‘Who else is coming?’ Brendan said, hopping up and dressing. ‘Is that what’s-her-name that trashed my police station and burned my ear coming?’

‘You mean Aunt Nieve? I don’t know.’

‘How about the woman who throws me across the room with regularity?’

‘Yes, I’m sure Mom is coming.’

‘Who else?’

‘Araf probably.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘He’s the guy who threw me the stick when I hit you on the head.’

‘The first time you hit me or the second time?’

‘The second time – gosh, you have been having a rough time lately, but The Land’s like that in the beginning. It’ll get better. Can I buy you some lunch?’

‘You’re getting to know me, Conor. My wife used to do the same thing. Whenever she saw me getting down she would only have to feed me and I was happy again.’

‘Well then, let’s get the chef to whip up something special. And if you like I’ll teach you how to read Gaelic – since you can speak it, it shouldn’t be too hard.’

After Dad regained the throne, in what is now called the Troid e Ewan Macha, or The Battle of the Twins of Macha, I had a lot of time on my hands and I spent most of it exploring Castle Duir. I even revisited the dungeon and issued my one and only executive order to have the cells cleaned out. I still feel sorry for whoever got that job. The only place that I never got to see was the armoury. After the battle, Dad still couldn’t be sure if there were any of Cialtie’s loyal followers still lurking around incognito, so he decided to seal off the weapons room until security could be normalised.

So that made this trip to the armoury my first one. Brendan and I hiked to the north wing, sailed past three sets of ten-hutting armed guards and found ourselves in front of a set of huge oak doors inlaid with a fine gold latticework.

Light flooded the hallway as we pushed our way in. Like Gerard’s armoury, this was a glass-roofed gymnasium, but size-wise it made the winemaker’s weapons room seem like a walk-in closet. Racks upon racks contained carefully stacked weapons: swords, axes, maces and rows and rows of banta sticks. Tournament practice areas were marked off on the floor and the entire far length of the room was an impossibly long archery range that could accommodate eight archers abreast, each with their own targets. At the far end there was a huge contraption that looked like it might be a catapult.

‘Wow,’ I said.

The sound of Brendan’s and my footsteps echoed in the huge space. Surprisingly there was no one around.

Brendan whispered like he was in a church. ‘Where is everyone?’

‘Probably off pillaging.’

‘Damn,’ Brendan said, ‘you mean it’s pillaging season and no one told me?’

I smiled and shouted a tentative, ‘Hello?’

‘So,’ Brendan said in a normal tone, now that it looked like we were alone in there, ‘where do they keep the AK-47s?’

‘I’m afraid if you want a long-range weapon, Brendan, it’ll have to be one of those.’

Brendan turned to where I had pointed; the entire wall was covered with both long and short bows mounted neatly in rows. They were all unstrung with their strings hanging slack from the top notch. There were hundreds of them.

‘Ah,’ Brendan said, ‘you may laugh, but I was a pretty good archer in my youth. My mother made me take lessons.’ Brendan walked over to the wall and reached up to take down a medium-sized bow.

I never heard the twang of the bow that fired the arrow at him, I didn’t even see it while it was in the air, I only heard the thwap of the arrow hitting its target and Brendan’s yelp as he realised his arm was pinned to the wall.

The arrow had tacked Brendan’s shirtsleeve to the wall, missing his skin by inches. I hit the ground, rolled to my left, upsetting a stand of bantas, and came up crouching with a stick in each hand. I poked my nose over the now-empty banta stick holder to see Brendan reaching to extract the arrow that stuck him to the wall. As his hand crossed his body another arrow pinned that sleeve as well. This time clothing wasn’t the only thing it pierced – he howled in pain.

‘I’m hit!’