The Hero of Drumree: Beyond the Stars. Alan Clarke

Love for their help with this book.

      Beyond the Stars would not exist without the superstar writers and illustrators behind this collection – all of whom said yes to contributing without hesitation. Yes, Chris Haughton, it was a little like “herding cats” at times, but very cool and lovely cats! Thanks to the team: Roddy Doyle and Steve Simpson; Derek Landy and Alan Clarke; John Boyne and Paul Howard; Judi Curtin and Chris Judge; Eoin Colfer and Marie-Louise Fitzpatrick; Marita Conlon-McKenna and P. J. Lynch; Michael Scott and Chris Haughton; Gordon Snell and Michael Emberley; Celine Kiernan and Tatyana Feeney; Oisín McGann; Siobhán Parkinson and Olwyn Whelan; and finally, Niamh Sharkey, who illustrated our competition-winner Emma Brade’s story. Mammoth thanks also to Ruth Alltimes, Mary Byrne and their supernova team at HarperCollins Children’s Books for their hard work and support of what is a highly unusual project. And to my wonderful agent, Philippa Milnes-Smith, for her hand-holding and enthusiasm for the book.

      As the Irish writer Oscar Wilde once said: “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” With your wonderful work for this collection, you have all reached for the stars, and ‘Beyond’. Together, we have created a glowing universe of space dogs and ice queens, invisible cats and warriors brave.

      Now it is up to you, dear reader, to continue the journey. Read the magical stories within these pages and let your imagination fly.

       Sarah Webb

      

      Derek Landy is the author of the number one bestselling Skulduggery Pleasant series. He has won awards. He is not modest. He lives in Dublin.

      Alan Clarke is an award-winning illustrator, sculptor and occasional writer. His images conjure worlds that are whimsical, darkly comic, magical, sometimes grotesque, but always beautifully executed. His work has been published and exhibited worldwide. Alan is based in Dublin.

      “There may come a day,” roared General Tua, “when the legacy of Man falls! When his shields splinter under Fomorian sword! But it will not be this day!”

      A roar sounded among the troops, and Tua’s horse reared back on two legs, before the general kicked in his heels and galloped up the line.

      “When they speak of this day, they will speak of loyalty! Of duty! Of …”

      The last word was lost to Corporal Fleece as Tua sped further away, but he was relatively sure it was ‘honour’. Tua was big on honour.

      Men jostled him from all sides, and despite the cold winter wind, Fleece felt uncomfortably hot. It stank here too. Bathing was not high on the list of requirements for the foot soldiers of the Hibernian Army. Being big, brutish and ugly, however, seemingly were, and as such Fleece reckoned himself to be a soldier lacking. He couldn’t even see the valley where they were going to be fighting – couldn’t even see the Fomorian Army amassed on the other side. Although this was probably a good thing.

      General Tua rode back into range.

      “Here, on the fields and in the valleys of Drumree, we will send these demons back to the seas where they were spawned! Then they will learn what it means to encroach on the lands of Man! They will …” And off he went again, up the line in the other direction.

      Fleece turned his head, got a blast of foul breath and wrinkled his nose. He saw Iron Guts, his best friend in the whole of Hibernia, and tried to squeeze through the throng of men towards him. Failing miserably, he resorted to waving and shouting over the soldiers’ heads.