The Last Steward of Tir-na-Nog

By Aonghus Fallon

Algernon and his uncle Bertram both agree it would be best if Algernon never became Tir-na-Nog's twelfth steward. Then one day Algernon gets a new tutor who thinks otherwise.

A sequel to 'The Witch, the Saint & the Shoemaker'.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aonghus Fallon
• Release date: Sep 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310542404

Book preview

THE LAST STEWARD

OF

TIR-NA-NOG

Aonghus Fallon

Copyright 2015 Aonghus Fallon

Smashwords edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CONTENTS:

I. SUMMONED

II. FAND

III. ALGERNON

IV. MR. HUMPHREY DASHWOOD

V. FLIGHT

VI. BESIEGED

VII. MELVIN'S DREAM

VIII. ENCHANTED GRASS

IX. SAINT PATRICK GRANTS A WISH

Chapter I

SUMMONED

Grand Central Station was even more crowded than usual. All around Penny, people were hugging and kissing and shouting Christmas greetings to one another. Which only made it all the more amazing that she even heard the music.

Beverly had just gone to get their luggage and told Penny to wait until she got back.

It was Christmas break. Beverly had arranged to stop off at New York so they could go shopping with their brothers. Donald and Melvin were spending Christmas with Dad, while Penny and Beverly were going upstate to stay with Mom. Then they were going to swap round for New Year’s. It was a stupid plan, but it was what Mom and Dad had decided.

Penny was just wishing her parents would make up, if only so she and the others could see each other more often, when she heard that melody—very faint and faraway and eerie.

She couldn’t tell where the music was coming from. Only that her head was suddenly full of dark, rainy skies, of gorse and grass that was greener than any grass had a right to be, and of a funny little man called—

I got us a cab.

"Did you hear that?"

Beverly frowned. Hear what?

The music?

Beverly shook her head. Nope.

Beverly was being very matter-of-fact, so why did Penny think her big sister was lying?

"Are you sure?"

Yes, Penny, I am. Who cares about some stupid music? Come on!

Minutes later they were sitting in the back of some smelly old taxi, making their way through late afternoon traffic, with skyscrapers looming on either side of them and a gray, gray winter’s sky far above, down from which a few white flakes of snow fluttered every so often, and Penny was still thinking about the music.

"It reminded me of something. Somewhere. If only Beverly hadn’t interrupted!"

A string of silvery notes.

A harp.

The driver didn’t even look round.

That music. It made her think of how a small child might take your hand when he or she wants you to come and play.

What was going on?

That music sent a cold shiver down Beverly’s spine and instead of gorse and grass, she remembered scrambling up the sheer, heather-covered sides of some mountain in the pouring rain.

Only it was the sort of music that, once you heard it, you had to find out where it was coming from, no matter what.

Beverly knew this was a really bad idea. The images crowding into her head told her as much.

So she scrunched up her face and bit her tongue and concentrated as hard as she could on ignoring it.

Only when she opened her eyes, Penny was staring at her, open-mouthed.

"You did hear it this time!"

Beverly wanted to lie, but seeing Penny’s face, she just said—What if I did?

Don’t you want to find out where it’s coming from?

No! Even Beverly was surprised at how fiercely she spoke. Penny shrank back.

Why not?

Because we’re meeting Donald and Melvin in ten minutes, remember?

Oh yeah.

Penny looked so sheepish, Beverly couldn’t help adding—Let’s just forget all about that music, okay?

Okay.

Melvin shivered and dug his hands deeper into his fleece jacket. He and Donald had promised to meet their sisters outside Macy’s at two and according to the big clock over the entrance, it was nearly a quarter after.

I guess the slush slowed them down, Donald said, blowing on his hands and stamping his feet. Even as he spoke, a battered yellow taxi cab pulled up outside the department store and two familiar figures got out.

Melvin heard the music just as Penny was waving at him, and for a second he saw a face, very beautiful and fierce, with a head of wild red hair and eyes of deepest green. And somehow he knew that those eyes would have little flecks of gold mixed in with the jade.

Judging by his sisters’ expressions and by how Donald started, he reckoned they could hear the music too, but if Donald just looked surprised and Beverly tight-lipped and Penny shiny-eyed with excitement, Melvin knew his face would be quite different, because what he felt was a deep, churning fear.

Wow! Donald exclaimed as the music faded away and the two girls ran up to join them. Did you hear—did you hear—

Beverly shot Melvin a glance. That was when Melvin knew she felt the same way he did.

I didn’t hear a thing, Donald, Beverly snapped.

Me, neither, Melvin said, even though he wasn’t sure why he and Beverly had to pretend.

"Well I heard it, Donald, Penny said, hugging her brother. Donald had turned sixteen three months earlier and got so tall Penny barely came up to his chest. He hugged her back, then shook his head. Did it remind you of something. I dunno—some place?"

Penny nodded. "Yeah. At least, I think so."

Well I didn’t hear anything, and neither did Beverly, Melvin said.

Donald just grinned. Come on, man—

Guys, guys, Beverly sighed. Let’s not have some stupid argument about who heard what, okay? Let’s just do our shopping and then—I dunno—go for a milkshake somewhere.

But Melvin could see right away Donald wasn’t going to leave it at that. No sir.

Macy’s was packed with people all wearing the same dark scarves and hats and winter coats, all trying to finish their Christmas shopping and all very grumpy as a result. It was so crowded you could barely see the stuff on display, but somehow the four made their way to one escalator (Beverly had already decided what they were going to get Mom and Dad—a jewelry box for Mom and a set of cufflinks for Dad) and a second later they were high up enough to see the gigantic Christmas wreaths hanging from each pillar and the glass cases on either side of those crowded aisles—glass cases of jewelry, perfume, watches and handbags, all very enticing and colorful in comparison to the people milling around them.

Or at least that’s what Donald and the girls thought. When Melvin looked down at the people below, all he could think of was ants, swarming over a particularly tasty doughnut.

Come on dude—stop pretending, Donald was saying.

Then Melvin heard some other sound apart from the grumble of voices, the ting-a-ling of cash registers and the creaking and groaning of the wooden escalator underfoot: the sound of unseen fingers plucking the strings of some unseen harp.

He looked up at Donald—why bother pretending?

"What if I did hear something?"

Can you hear it now?

Sure.

Louder and louder the music grew, even as Donald’s face creased in a frown.

So how come you didn’t say?

Melvin shrugged. "Because—because that music wants us to do something. Go somewhere, maybe."

What? You mean like the Pied Piper of Hamelin? Something like that?

"Exactly like that."

The music was tugging at them now, stronger than ever—come with me, come with me—but Melvin couldn’t help smiling when he saw Donald’s expression.

Then we got to fight it, right?

He shook his head. I don’t think there’s any point. It’s too strong. Besides—

Besides what?

Donald was shouting now, but Melvin could barely hear him. "Besides I got a feeling we ought to go."

And he took Donald by the wrist.

Hey!

Even as Melvin tightened his fingers on Donald’s wrist, he felt Penny’s hand slip into his and when he looked over she was smiling at him. Something was going to happen. He could feel it in his bones.

That was when Beverly noticed. Oh darn! was all she said as she grabbed Penny’s other hand. I’m sure this is a really dumb—

— idea!

Everything vanished: the people, the lights, the escalator, that hubbub of voices.

For a second the four children could feel nothing underfoot—long enough to make them stagger, but not enough to make them fall over.

They’d scrunched up their eyes despite themselves (just like you might before diving into a swimming pool). Now they were afraid to open them. But already they could tell were no longer in that busy department store. All they could hear was the soft rustling of the leaves and the distant bleating of sheep.

Everybody straightened up and looked round.

It was late on a sunny afternoon. They were standing on an empty country road, lined on either side by tall old beech trees, their silver trunks arching high, high up into the russet-colored leaves overhead.

The trees grew on grassy embankments, but the children could just see green fields through their trunks.

Penny was the first to speak. Weird. I mean, I dunno what I was expecting—

Yeah, Melvin agreed. "I thought it’d be different somehow."

"Well I don’t know where we are, but it looks just fine to me, Beverly sniffed, pushing her glasses further up her nose and looking round—she’d only got the glasses a few weeks earlier, but (unlike most people) she was proud of them and always fiddling with them. That was a stupid thing to do, Melvin. I mean, how are we going to get back?"

"I guess that all depends on where we are, Donald said. I don’t see any signposts or anything—"

No telephone poles, either, Melvin pointed out.

"You’re right. Now that is strange."

Beverly clapped her hands. Why don’t we just keep walking until we find a signpost or meet somebody we can ask?

And so they all set off.

It was so quiet. The road unfurled like a ribbon, but nothing ever changed—just one long avenue of beech after another—and even when they came to a crossroads, the other roads were all identical.

Everything looked pretty prosperous, though. Fat, happy-looking sheep and cattle grazed in the fields, and every so often they’d pass a gate, and each and every gate looked freshly painted.

Once they saw some house through the trees on a faraway hillside; an old-fashioned house with a gray slate roof and way too many chimneys.

Funnily enough, nobody suggested going up and knocking on the door.

They nearly didn’t spot the cottage, even though it was right by the roadside. It was so covered in ivy.

That’s when they decided take a break, mainly because the cottage was the first thing they’d seen so far that looked out