The Black North (38 page)
Authors: Nigel McDowell
âDream it!' shouted Morris, the sound of the city's collapse so loud. âImagine you're back on the shore!'
âI don't know if I can,' said Oona, trying only to breathe.
âYou can,' he said. âYou must.'
Oona looked up â stone was falling towards them, a spike as sharp as the King's crown â
âPlease,' said Morris.
Oona shut her eyes, squeezing the shard of Loam Stone until she felt her skin tear and her mind tear too with the effort of dreaming, a scream leaving her lungs and â
Nothing, nowhere â
No breathing, no words. Not until Oona heard something: a crashing of water, but from far off. Until she felt something: her brother's breathing, and his hand in hers.
âOpen your eyes,' he told her. âDon't be frighted.'
Oona looked â they were back. The broken shore was scattered around them, and it was just as dismal as sight.
âNot there,' Morris told her. âLook up.'
She saw a sky that might've just discovered colour â so much blue and purple and pink. And on the horizon there was no lingering dark, no threat â only the blazing promise of a new day.
Finally, Oona sank to the ground, Morris dropping beside her.
âWhere is it?' he asked. âThe last bit of the Stone?'
Oona lifted her hand to show: only a splinter, and it had worked its way into her palm; something so small there was no hope of it being unpicked. But it glowed, faintly, like a fresh bruise â a crimson-darkness just beneath the skin. She found herself thinking of her great-grandfather in the Big House, trapped by the act that had killed him. His warning, and her promise: that she would be different from all the Kavanagh women that had gone before.
âIt's nothing that can hurt anybody now,' she said, and closed her eyes.
A breeze smoothed the sea, made silence.
âWhere now?' Morris asked. âWhere will we go?'
âDon't know,' said Oona. âMaybe anywhere.'
She felt the splinter of Stone shiver inside her palm. Only small jolts, like the last kicks of life, and not nightmares shown but surely dreams â like her mother's paintings, Oona saw places made by her own imagination ⦠scenes beautiful, full of colour, improbable, maybe possible â¦
âOr everywhere,' said Oona. And suddenly she was standing, was taking her brother's hand and dragging him to his feet and telling him, âTo some new place. Somewhere we've not seen. Somewhere maybe that'll show us home.'
Nigel grew up in County Fermanagh, rural Northern Ireland, and as a child spent most of his time battling boredom, looking for adventure â crawling through ditches, climbing trees, devising games to play with his brother and sister, and reading. His favourite book as a child was
The Witches
by Roald Dahl.
After graduating with a degree in English (and having no clue what to do with it!), he decided to go off on another adventure, spending almost two years living and working in Australia and New Zealand.
Nigel now lives in London. He has written articles on film and literature for a number of websites. He is always on the hunt for books about folklore and fairytale.
Nigel's debut novel,
Tall Tales from Pitch End
, was published in June 2013.
Follow Nigel on Twitter:
@NMcDowellAuthor
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First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Hot Key Books
Northburgh House, 10 Northburgh Street, London EC1V 0AT
Copyright © Nigel McDowell 2014
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-4714-0068-1
Hot Key Books is part of the Bonnier Publishing Group
