Read The Last Days of Magic Online
Authors: Mark Tompkins
The Last Days of Magic
VIKING
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
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New York, New York 10014
Copyright © 2016 by Mark Tompkins
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ISBN 978-0-698-40571-4
Map and title-page illustration by Laura Hartman Maestro
Cover photo illustration: Sean Freeman
Version_1
Contents
Magical Beings in Medieval Ireland
For Serena,
beyond words
O
NLY
A
FEW
CENTURIES
AGO
, the descriptions of magical beings and their actions within these pages would have been taken as fact.
This story’s Celtic faeries and Fomorians (merpeople) are based on old legends. The Goddess Morrígna is drawn from Irish mythology, and the trials of Aisling, one of her physical aspects, is founded on the lore of Red Mary. The angels and demons that appear originate from biblical and ancient sources. Most of the named witches of the High Coven are based on accounts of real women tried or accused of witchcraft.
The biblical library of the Essene at Qumran—its contents popularly known as the Dead Sea Scrolls—contained numerous copies of the books of Enoch and Jubilees, which provide accounts of angels’ coupling with humans and producing magical hybrid offspring. The scrolls were repressed for decades and it is possible that some are still kept secret. Lilith, Adam’s first wife, has been struck from most modern bibles but she can still be seen in the relief depicting the Garden of Eden on the front of Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris (carved in 1225).
The account of the Celtic high king Art MacMurrough follows historical record, as does the military strategy relating to England’s King Richard II and his designs on Ireland. The use of exorcism to control demons is a practice that originated with King Solomon and his magic ring, circa 950
BCE
.
MAGICAL
BEINGS
IN
MEDIEVAL
IRELAND
M
orrígna
(morr-ē-gna)
A Goddess who manifests in three interconnected aspects to rule over the Celts and the Sidhe:
Aisling
and
Anya
—Twin girls periodically reborn in human bodies
Anann
—An Otherworld spirit who is the twins’ source of power
N
ephilim
(nef-ē-lim)
Hybrid offspring produced when fallen angels procreated with humans. All of the magical beings below are different branches of Nephilim.
S
idhe
(shē)
Irish faeries, most of whom live in a parallel land called the Middle Kingdom—accessed through enchanted doorways in faerie mounds—within a structured society. They owe allegiance to the Morrígna. In order of appearance:
S
KEAGHSHEE
—Tree Sidhe who live outside the Middle Kingdom
Kellach
—King of the Skeaghshee
Cinaed
—Kellach’s brother
Ruarc
—Kellach’s son
A
DHENE
—Scholars, the most powerful clan
Fearghal
—The Sidhe high king
Rhoswen
—Fearghal’s daughter and a Sidhe witch
G
ROGOCH
—Stoneworkers and builders
Eldan
—A Grogoch noble
D
EVAS
—Administrators and bureaucrats of the Middle Kingdom
G
NOMES
—Skilled ironworkers and weapon makers
B
ROWNIES
—Ambassadors to the Celtic world
S
LUAGHS
—Guides who usher the dead to the afterlife
P
IXIES
—Tricksters who love leading humans astray
F
IRE SPRITES
—Controllers of fire and feared warriors
L
EPRECHAUNS
—Gold and silver artisans and jewelers
D
RYADS
—Tree Sidhe who live in oaks; subservient to Skeaghshee
W
ICHTLEIN
—Miners and tunnel builders
A
SRAIS
—Hedonists dedicated to physical pleasure; concubines
E
lioud
(el-ē-ōōd)
Magical creatures who live independently and whose allegiance can be influenced.
F
OMORIANS
—Hostile water dwellers
I
MPS
—Servants of demons
B
ANSHEE
—Messengers of death
Elioud mentioned but not living in Ireland: G
IANTS,
G
OBLINS,
T
ROLLS,
N
EREIDS,
V
ODYANOY,
S
IRENS,
N
UGGLE
, and N
IX
.
T
ylwyth Teg
(tal-with taig)
Welsh faeries that sometimes visit Ireland.
Oren
—An English captive
C
elts &
O
ther Humans
Celts are the native Irish, and while they are not magical beings, it is worth noting that they and other humans use magic.
D
RUIDS
—Celtic pagan magic workers
E
XORCISTS
—Vatican magicians
W
ITCHES &
S
ORCERERS
—Other human magic
workers
The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God [angels] came in to the daughters of man and they bore children to them. These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown.
—Genesis 6:4, English Standard Version
And there we saw the Nephilim (the sons of Anak, who come from the Nephilim), and we seemed to ourselves like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them.
—Numbers 13:33, English Standard Version
Prologue
Manchester, England
2016
W
hen Sara Hill’s body washed up on shore, the police concluded—logically, given the lack of injuries—that she must have accidentally fallen overboard and drowned. The previous day she had taken a train from Manchester to Liverpool to catch the ferry to Ireland. The police ascertained that she’d boarded for the overnight passage across the Irish Sea but did not disembark.
On the morning she was to take the ferry, Sara watched the sun emerge above the dreary city, chasing away some of Manchester’s November gray. She had not slept since yesterday’s unsettling call from her grandmother in Ireland. Sweet milky tea had been abandoned for strong coffee until her whole body vibrated, though she knew it had little to do with the caffeine. She leaned back from the desk that dominated her cramped attic bed-sit and rolled her shoulders to ease the knots of tension along her neck and spine.
Her Grandmother O’Trehy was like a second mother to her. She had left her Irish homeland and moved into the family’s London flat for the first fifteen years of Sara’s life, when it turned out that Sara’s workaholic professor parents were woefully ill equipped to keep up with their energetic infant daughter. Over the years Sara and her grandmother became best friends, tramping through the parks of London while her grandmother recited rich and elaborate tales.
“Sara, do you still have the books I gave you when I left?” her grandmother had demanded over the phone the previous day, without so much as a hello.
“Of course,” Sara responded, struck by her grandmother’s unusual tone. “I would never lose those.”
“Well, get them, right now. There’s something you need to see.”
“Okay,” Sara agreed, recalling where she had stashed them. “Let me call you back in a few minutes.”
“No! No, I’m not in Dublin anymore. I’m not anyplace where you can call. I’m sorry, Sara, to be so abrupt. Please, just do this for me. I’ll wait on the line.”
Sara had never before heard her grandmother sound rattled. She fished the two battered boxes out from under her bed, still sealed as they had remained since her arrival at the University of Manchester as a freshman, six apartment moves ago. She tore them open and, one by one, removed the beautiful books of her childhood, placing them on her desk—books full of Celtic myths, legends, and faerie tales.
“Got them,” she said.
“Good. Now get a knife and pry open the paperboard of their covers.”
“What? Grandmother, no. You can’t be serious. What’s this about?”
“Please just do as I ask, Sara,” her grandmother implored. “You’re not going to believe me until you see for yourself.”
Sara didn’t respond, dismayed at the notion of destroying her treasured books. She picked one up and examined it carefully, touching its broken spine and tattered pages, recalling that her grandmother must have read it to her a thousand times. The cover featured a faerie prince, tall and handsome, holding the hand of a shy human milkmaid. Their love was ultimately doomed, of course, their children to be transformed into swans—a story Sara had always found strangely appealing.