The Keeper (20 page)

Chapter 24

Escape

A
NTIMONY loaded her slingshot with another skull and aimed at the raven diving towards her.

‘Eighteen,' she said as it dropped to the ground.

She was finding the battle strangely exhilarating, a nice break from all the complicated feelings she'd been struggling with. She kicked at the giant spider that tried to ambush her from behind and grabbed another skull to launch at its eye. She waited until it had turned red and released.

‘Nineteen,' she said as the spider keeled backwards.

The Book of Magic had shrunk to its normal size but some of the spiders refused to return to their regular form and the battle continued in the Morrígan's chamber. Antimony hadn't seen what had happened to Oisín and Stephen. It was hard to see anything in the swirl of battling bodies.

‘Twenty,' she shouted as she managed to knock out another spider with some smoke from her nose.

‘Eleven, twelve,' Raqib said as his tie sent two ravens spinning to the ground.

Antimony was keeping score with Lysander and Raqib. Caoimhe was looking after Ben Washington, while Tom was trying to befriend some of the spiders. The Houlihans did not have the right idea about battles, in Antimony's opinion. Even Sorcha was fighting, using her ballet moves to take out some of the smaller spiders.

Raqib dropped some of his spice into the well where the spiders lived and jumped back. There was a huge explosion and a silver cloud mushroomed up, scattering spindly legs across the chamber.

‘That has to count for more,' Raqib said.

‘Not bad,' Antimony conceded. ‘For a Quint.'

‘Maybe you'll think before you throw us into a cobweb next time, Ogoni?' Raqib said. ‘My side still hurts from where you kicked me.'

‘It'll hurt a lot more if you don't pay attention,' Lysander said, flicking his tie at a spider that was about to attack them. ‘Fifteen,' he added as it tumbled back into the hole.

Lysander looked at his watch. Its hands were turning rapidly, sensitive to any shift in the magical air.

‘Madame Q's here,' he said, looking around the chamber.

Antimony followed his gaze. Two huge ravens had swooped into the chamber. One was sleek and silver, the other was short and black with only one green eye.

‘Macha and Badb,' Antimony said, staring at the ravens in awe. The Morrígan hadn't been lying. Madame Q and Mrs Fitzfeather really were shape-shifters. And the Morrígan's sisters.

Lysander wasn't the only one to sense the shift in energy. There was a cry from the far side of the chamber as the Morrígan realised who had entered. She transformed into a large raven in a swirl of feathers. The other two ravens dived towards her, chasing her into a side-chamber.

‘We should get everybody back to the library,' Lysander said.

‘You can't. The passage is blocked,' another English voice announced.

Antimony was surprised to find that Cassandra Quicksilver had arrived behind them, looking even paler than usual. She must have come with Madame Q and Mrs Fitzfeather.

‘Those spiders caused a cave-in,' Cassandra said, knocking out a raven with her scarf. ‘It was lucky the wrens got through.'

The wooden wrens from
Eachtra
had also entered the chamber, led by the large statue from
Eachtra
's prow. Antimony was impressed that the tiny birds could be such fierce fighters.

‘We'll get out, though,' Cassandra said, using her telescope to trace a circle on one of the walls. She directed Raqib to sprinkle some of his spice on a skull and handed it to Antimony, who placed it into her slingshot and aimed at the silver circle.

There was another explosion and a blinding burst of daylight. Antimony felt a surge of hope as she saw the sky. It might all be OK.

‘We could have used some help earlier,' Lysander said to his sister.

‘I've been consulting the prophecy,' Cassandra answered. ‘One part keeps coming up:
brother will fight brother.
'

‘You might be too late,' Lysander said, looking over at Ben.

‘It's not about the Washington brothers,' Cassandra said, looking across the chamber. ‘Where's Stephen? And Oisín?'

‘They were over there,' Antimony said, feeling her stomach drop as she saw the look on Cassandra's face. ‘Stephen has An Freagarach. They'll be OK.'

Cassandra didn't seem to agree and ran in that direction, swishing her scarf at the ravens.

‘Come on,' Antimony said, gathering the others. ‘We've got to get out of here.'

She raced across the skulls as fast as she could. The pyramid's shape had been disturbed by the Book of Magic's expansion and retraction, so it was like running over a series of uneven hills. On the other side of one of the mounds, Antimony saw why Cassandra was so worried: Stephen was on the ground, crying, holding his brother's body in his arms.

Suddenly the battle didn't seem fun any more and Antimony didn't care how many spiders she had knocked out. Her stomach plummeted, like an elevator that had forgotten how to stop. She had used
béal tine
to keep the Book on the island. Oisín had saved her in the Underwater Caves. And now he was dead.

She turned around to face the others.

‘Tom, mind Sorcha for a minute. Caoimhe, bring the ashgrass.'

She skidded down the mound, Caoimhe following. It was quieter now that the wrens were battling the ravens. Most of the spiders had followed the Morrígan when she left. It didn't matter though: Oisín's eyes had already glazed over. Caoimhe pressed some ashgrass into his side but Antimony could tell it wasn't working.

Stephen looked up at her, his face red with tears. An Freagarach lay beside him on the ground, a horrible red colour on its tip.

‘I didn't mean to,' he sobbed. ‘The sword just brushed against him and …'

Tears took over his words and he collapsed on top of his brother, rocking back and forth. Antimony took his hand, tears swelling in her own eyes. She didn't think she had any left but then she thought of Oisín, of how brave he had been against the Morrígan, of how brave everybody was, and down they came, streaking down her cheeks and onto Oisín's body.

The Keanes would be safely back in Dublin if she'd never used the
béal tine
. She'd destroyed a family by trying to bring back her own, and she hadn't even done that right.

‘Wait, something's happening,' Caoimhe said.

Antimony and Stephen looked up.

‘His fingers moved,' Caoimhe said.

‘Then put on some more ashgrass,' Antimony almost shouted.

‘It's not the ashgrass,' Caoimhe said.

‘Then what is it?' Stephen asked, looking at Oisín's hand slowly moving.

‘Magical tears,' Cassandra answered, suddenly realising. ‘Ordinarily, it wouldn't be enough. But in a place with very deep magic, with tears from somebody very close to the person, somebody who felt a lot … it might be enough.'

Another tear rolled down Stephen's cheek and onto Oisín's chest.

The wren pendant on Oisín's chest flickered slightly.

‘The wound's closing,' Caoimhe said, kneeling beside them. She extended some aloe vera from her pen and started to rub it into Oisín's wound.

‘He's going to be OK?' Stephen said, standing.

‘I think so,' Cassandra answered.

Antimony felt a surge of relief. She found her feet uncertainly. Stephen was still shaking, looking like he could use a hug.

It was Cassandra Quicksilver who embraced him, though, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

‘I was so worried,' she said. ‘I was sure the prophecy meant that one of you was going to die.'

‘I'm glad you were wrong for once,' Stephen said.

‘Well, I suppose he did die for a moment, so the prophecy wasn't technically wrong, but …'

Cassandra stopped herself, deciding that the prophecy wasn't the most important thing at that moment.

‘Oh, Stephen, you were so brave!' she said, wrapping her fingers around his Wren pendant and pulling him towards her.

Antimony stared at them as they started to kiss: they looked very comfortable together, as if it wasn't their first time.

‘Er, I'll get the others,' Antimony said, when it became clear that they would be occupied for a while.

Both Tom and Sorcha were very upset to see Oisín's condition and added a good few tears to his wound before Caoimhe convinced them that he would be fine. It took almost as long for Lysander Quicksilver to come to grips with who his sister was dating.

‘You've been sneaking off to meet that Milesian muppet?' Lysander said as they clambered through the hole they had made in the wall. ‘
He
's who you were meeting in the Forest of Shadows?'

‘I hardly think this is the right time to discuss it,' Cassandra said briskly.

She had a point, Antimony thought. The hole led to a narrow ledge on the side of Cnoc na gCnámh. Neither Oisín nor Ben was able to walk, let alone cross Droichead an Chlaímh. Nobody was able to use Ben's calculator
croíacht
, so the Quints weren't able to use magical mathematics to travel. Raqib was doing a good job of holding off the remaining ravens and spiders, but they needed to get off the mountain fast.

In the end, it was Tom who came up with the solution. He convinced some of the spiders he had befriended to weave ropes between two clouds so that they formed a makeshift air-balloon. Raqib did some quick magical chemistry on the bottom cloud so that it would hold their weight and Tom got the wrens to help steer them. It wasn't bad work for somebody who didn't have a
croíacht
.

‘Are you sure we can trust those spiders?' Antimony said, as the cloud left the side of Cnoc na gCnámh.

‘They're grand,' Tom said, holding the small creatures fondly. ‘Just a bit peckish sometimes,' he added as one of them nipped at his arm.

Antimony leant back into the soft cloud. The sun was setting and the fire-fields glowed in the dusk. Caoimhe was looking after Ben Washington and Oisín. Stephen was holding a sleeping Sorcha. Lysander was too busy arguing with Raqib about who had killed more ravens to notice that his sister's arm was looped around Stephen.

Nobody had said anything about Antimony stealing the Book. She supposed Mrs Fitzfeather would, when they got back. She'd probably have to leave
Eachtra
. And the Houlihans. Nobody would want to be associated with somebody who'd done the kind of dark magic she had.

She stood up. The cloud had drifted off towards the north-west volcanoes, where the fire dragons lived. Tom was helping the wrens steer them back towards
Eachtra
. Caoimhe had come over to suggest a quicker route.

‘Can you get them to drop me off here?' Antimony asked, interrupting their argument.

If she had to go it alone, she might as well be somewhere she could use her Fire Magic. And after Scathach's training she was sure she could tackle a dragon or two.

Tom and Caoimhe looked puzzled.

‘I can't go back to
Eachtra
,' Antimony said. ‘Not after what I did.'

‘You took the Book of Magic to bring back your parents, didn't you?' Caoimhe said after a moment.

Antimony nodded. She had definitely cried enough for one day.

‘But you gave it back,' Tom said. ‘You did the right thing when it mattered.'

He looked at the spiders playing hopscotch along his arm.

‘I think everybody has some good in them,' Tom said quietly.

Antimony wasn't sure if she agreed, but she didn't say anything. Their cloud drifted over the volcano, meandering slowly towards the fire-fields. They could just make out
Eachtra
in the distance, a host of strange colours in the middle of the ash. Antimony was surprised at how affectionate she felt towards it.

‘Anyway,' Tom said in a brighter voice ‘I need a sibling who doesn't treat me like a petri-dish.'

‘Mum and Dad will definitely let you stay,' Caoimhe said. And if they don't, I'm sure I can find a potion that can make them.'

‘They have to let you stay,' Tom said. ‘They didn't kick Caoimhe out after she turned Granda Houlihan's head into a pumpkin when he had a cold.'

‘That was only for a day!' Caoimhe protested.

‘He
still
turns orange when he sneezes,' Tom countered.

‘Yeah, well, remember the time your cute little baby wolf nearly ate me?'

‘You were probably talking too much.'

Antimony let the Houlihans argue and settled back down into the cloud. They weren't the worst brother and sister you could hope for. And she could probably let the fire dragons live for another year or two.

Antimony watched the sun set over Cnoc na gCnámh, far in the distance now, and, for the first time in a long while, she fell asleep without a single worry.

Chapter 25

The Last DART

O
ISÍN stood at the top of the Houlihans' treehouse and looked out at the two strange vehicles below. The first was in many ways the stranger. No matter how many times you looked at
Eachtra
, there were always surprises: the way the coloured sails tickled each other when they thought nobody was looking or the one bicycle wheel that liked to change into a triangle when it wasn't moving (or, if it was feeling grumpy, when it
was
moving).

Eachtra
certainly looked a bit out of place in the Houlihans' garden. It had arrived two days ago and the Houlihans had let Mrs Fitzfeather keep it there so they could all celebrate the Lughnasa festival. Technically, it was over a week too late but Madame Q gave a big speech about how time moved in different streams for different people and everybody agreed with that, mostly because Jimmy Houlihan had brewed a big vat of moonmead that nobody wanted to waste.

The festival had been one of the best nights of Oisín's life. All the druids and Wrens from
Eachtra
were there, plus some of the older Wrens who had come back from some of their own summer adventures. Cathleen Houlihan had set up a small oak stage and a band of Wrens had played: Orion Jones on his flute, Billy Lewis with his air guitar and Yuriko Ada on a fine set of toadstool drums. Oisín practised the Bollywood moves that Granny Keane had taught him with Cassandra Quicksilver before Cassandra danced with Stephen in a way that required much closer contact.

Everybody had stayed up until the early hours of the morning, eating platters of Jimmy's seafood stew and sipping cool moonjuice. The band played for several hours and by the end of the night the ground was covered with dozing musical notes. Somebody even claimed to have seen Madame Q's shoes tapping in time to the music.

Oisín could still see some of the fireworks that Graciela Gambaro had enchanted, fizzling on the ground. He couldn't believe that Lughnasa was over and it was time to go home.

The second vehicle outside certainly wasn't as odd as
Eachtra
, but somehow the bright green DART carriage looked stranger to Oisín now. He had spent so long with the Tuatha Dé Danann that he had almost forgotten what a train was. The DART carriage hadn't forgotten about them, though, and it was waiting on the beach where they'd left it, ready to take them back to Dublin.

Oisín clutched the wren pendant around his neck, not exactly sure how he felt about going home.

‘Room for an old lady on that branch? Tom said you were still up here.'

Oisín turned around to see Mrs Fitzfeather climbing up the ladder into Tom's bedroom. She walked over to the branch that Oisín was standing on, which gave such a good view.

‘Sure,' Oisín said, sitting down beside her.

‘Now, boy, I know you're tired,' she said, her gruff voice making a stab at being gentle. ‘But I thought it would be good to have a quick chat before you head off.'

They hadn't really spoken since they'd got back from Cnoc na gCnámh. Oisín knew that the Morrígan had escaped, but that Madame Q and Mrs Fitzfeather had rescued the Book of Magic. He sensed that Mrs Fitzfeather didn't really want to talk about what had happened that day, even now.

‘Remember I told your parents that you were at the Gaeltacht in the letter I wrote?' she reminded him. ‘So you should probably practise some Irish on the train home.'

‘Right,' Oisín said. He had learnt some Irish words, but he wasn't sure that knowing how to say ‘The Mountain of Wind' or ‘The Bridge of the Sword' would be much use in school.

‘Your wound is still healing OK?' Mrs Fitzfeather asked.

‘Yeah,' Oisín said. ‘Caoimhe was great at stitching it up.'

‘I heard somebody else didn't do too badly,' Mrs Fitzfeather said in a soft voice.

Oisín blushed. ‘I was the one who spent every day having tea with the Morrígan in the first place.'

‘And you were the one who was able to break away from her. Only a very strong-hearted person would be able to do that. It took me a long time.'

Mrs Fitzfeather looked out through the branches and when her eyes turned back to Oisín they seemed a lot older.

‘I suppose the Morrígan told you that we're related?'

It came out as a question, but Oisín could tell that Mrs Fitzfeather knew the answer before he nodded his head.

‘It's not something I usually tell Wrens about,' Mrs Fitzfeather said, slowly loosening her shawls. ‘But I suppose you have earned the truth.'

Very slowly, Mrs Fitzfeather peeled off her shawls until Oisín saw what was underneath: a mass of black feathers where her chest should have been. She lifted up her eyepatch to reveal another green eye – one that belonged unmistakably to a bird.

‘A long time ago I did some things that I'm not proud of,' she said, wrapping her shawls back around her and replacing her eyepatch. ‘Eventually I saw what should have been clear long before: that, as well as being one of the most powerful witches in the country, my sister was also the most evil. When I left her to found
Eachtra
, this is how she cursed me.'

‘And Madame Q went with you?'

‘B came later,' Mrs Fitzfeather said, her voice retaining its usual frost when she spoke of Madame Q. ‘But I didn't come here to talk about my past.'

She pulled something else out of her shawls and held out the Book of Magic.

‘For many, many centuries the Book of Magic has been passed from Keeper to Keeper and up to now nobody has had the courage to give it away. It takes somebody very brave to give up all the power in the world.'

‘I nearly didn't,' Oisín admitted, remembering the feeling of the Book in his hands, how he had wanted to keep it for ever.

‘You did, though, and that's what matters,' Mrs Fitzfeather said. ‘You did the one thing the Morrígan couldn't understand: share.'

She placed the Book on the bed beside Oisín. It was its normal size again, small enough to fit in his palm. It looked very different from the book that had jumped into his hands in Granny Keane's study. Lots of holes marked its pages, the spots where Stephen had slashed through. The writing was even harder to read than before and in a variety of new colours: Caoimhe's smudges with ashgrass, Antimony's orange ink, tiny inscriptions in silver that Lysander had left at the corners. The biggest change, though, was the thin black cracks that stretched across every page. Oisín gazed into their shadowy depths and felt a chill pass through him.

‘It's evil now, isn't it?' he said, looking at the cracks in the Book of Magic.

‘I wouldn't say that,' Mrs Fitzfeather said carefully. ‘It's a bit more damaged, but it's the same as always. It has the potential to do good or evil. It's the Keeper who decides.'

Oisín turned to the front page and saw that the words he had written in were still there:
For everybody, the Keepers of the Book of Magic
.

‘I'm not the Keeper any more,' he said, putting the Book down.

‘No, my boy, you're not,' Mrs Fitzfeather agreed.

Oisín felt a little strange, as if he had both lost and gained something. He didn't have a
croíacht
any more. Then again, Brad had died trying to get a better
croíacht
. Tom did all right without one. And what would Oisín need a
croíacht
for in Dublin? He returned the Book to Mrs Fitzfeather.

‘Are you going to keep the Book?' he asked.

‘We've all discussed the matter. And despite what
some
people think …' Mrs Fitzfeather paused and Oisín had the distinct impression that ‘some people' meant Madame Q. ‘Most of us have decided that the Book belongs in the library. People will still be able to look at it, but a lot of its power has been diluted now. It's no longer dangerous for other people to hold. If you agree, of course. Technically, you're no longer the Keeper of the Book, but it seemed right to check with you.'

Oisín nodded.

‘You can still come and visit it from time to time, if you wish.'

Oisín looked back at her in confusion.

‘Oh,' she said, ‘perhaps the Houlihans' sink is clogged. The message should have gone out a few days ago, but everybody has been understandably busy. In any case, you have been accepted as a Wren again for next summer. It'll be a different adventure, chance to work on your Water Magic, but I'd say that after tackling the Morrígan you'll be ready for it.'

Oisín felt as if his brain was still asleep and struggling to catch up.

‘What do you mean? How can I come back? I have to go to school.'

‘We'll work it out, boy,' Mrs Fitzfeather said airily. ‘The voyage doesn't start until after Bealtaine, in the summer. It'll be over by Lughnasa, so you should still be able to go to your Milesean school.'

Oisín felt a surge of joy and almost leapt across to hug Mrs Fitzfeather. He wouldn't have to leave the island for ever. He could come back and stay with the Houlihans and –

Oisín's heart dropped. Something was still troubling him.

‘But …,' he started, struggling to find the words. ‘I can't do magic. It was just the Book. I won't be any use on board
Eachtra
without it.'

Mrs Fitzfeather shook her head. ‘Anybody can read a book. It's what you do afterwards that matters.'

‘But I don't even know what I want to do,' Oisín started, feeling panic ride up his chest. ‘Caoimhe knows she wants to be a druid-doctor and Tom knows that he likes Earth Magic, but there's not one thing I'm really good at, or better than the others at. I'm not really good at anything. So what good would I be on
Eachtra?
'

Mrs Fitzfeather squeezed his hand gently.

‘Now, boy, don't be daft. Who was it that solved the riddle in Ogham? Or made a snowstorm in the Underwater Caves? Or thought to turn into the wind to get up Sliabh na Gaoithe?'

‘That was the Book of Magic.'

‘The Book of Magic is only what you make of it. Everything you did came from your brain, not the Book.'

Mrs Fitzfeather let go of his hand and smiled.

‘And as for not knowing what you want to do, I wouldn't worry about that. Plenty of people don't know what they want to do at sixty, so I shouldn't worry too much about it at twelve. I started off thinking I'd do Air Magic and then I got very excited about Fire Magic for a while and it was only much later that I discovered that it was really Earth Magic that worked for me.'

‘And Madame Q? Did she always do Quintessence?'

‘That is something you would have to ask her,' Mrs Fitzfeather said, standing up and pulling her shawls around her. ‘Come along now, we should really get you on that train. And I should look after the horses. I have a feeling that some of them had a little too much moonmead last night.'

Oisín managed to find some room in his whirl of feelings to be amused at the sight of Mrs Fitzfeather squeezing onto the bamboo slide and whizzing down to the Houlihans' garden.

Oisín followed her and walked through the forest to the beach.

‘Pip!'

Oisín turned to see Lysander Quicksilver leaning against a tree and biting into a silver apple.

‘I see you came prepared,' Oisín said.

‘Seaweed stew doesn't agree with my constitution. So old Fitzfeather's letting you come back to
Eachtra?
One day you might make it into Quintessence and actually do something useful.'

‘Maybe,' Oisín said, wondering whether or not he wanted to be a Quint.

‘What did you write in the Book?' he asked Lysander. ‘It was too small for me to read.'

‘One day you'll understand.'

‘Something about the mysteries of the universe?'

A strange smile passed across Lysander's face.

‘Careful, Pipsqueak. You become too smart and I'll have to find you a different name.'

‘You could try Oisín.'

Before Lysander could retort, Tom came running up, Giant at his side.

‘Come on, Oisín, they're all waiting,' Tom said, eyeing Lysander suspiciously. The boundless sympathy Tom had for all living creatures seemed to stop at Quints.

‘See you next year, Pip,' Lysander said as Oisín followed Tom.

Tom had managed to convince his parents to keep some of the pale spiders (Cathleen relented, as the thread was quite useful for some of her inventions) so they had to negotiate a series of webs as they made their way to the beach.

The others were waiting by the DART.

‘You're sure you don't want to take some lavender and nettle stew for your parents?' Jimmy said, holding out a large container.

‘I don't think it will keep,' Stephen said, hoping that his face looked appropriately regretful.

‘Come on, let's get you off before Jimmy gets any other ideas,' Cathleen said.

There was a lot of hugging. Caoimhe gave Oisín a list of Milesian herbs that she wanted him to bring back from Ireland. Antimony apologised to Sorcha for maybe the hundredth time. Cassandra gave Stephen a long hug and told him that she was researching ways that water-mail could reach Milesian taps. Finally, it was time to go.

After a month aboard
Eachtra
, with its sock-ladders, glass lifts and magic doors, it felt odd to press the red rubber circle that opened the DART. Oisín stepped inside.

Tom, Caoimhe and Antimony watched sadly as the train pulled off, running to the edge of the beach and waving furiously as it disappeared underwater.

Oisín gazed at the strange assortment of fish and seaweed that drifted by the window and remembered how alien it had all seemed several weeks ago.

‘Bye, fishies,' Sorcha called, pressing her nose against the window and waving. She flopped back into her seat and sighed contentedly.

‘That Mrs Featherfitz lady –'

‘Fitzfeather,' Stephen said with a small sigh.