She knew now that the stories were lies. Sigela had been dismembered and banished because she could not be allowed to have dominion over the world. With Sigela safely in the heavens, Drayoom and humans alike could flourish, being inspired by Sigela’s light, but not destroyed by it. Unless the balance could be maintained, Eudroch would carry through with his mad plan to bring Sigela back, and the world would cease to exist as she knew it.
Swella stood up, hearing the creaks from her aging spine. She carefully wiped the wavy middle line of the symbol away with a swipe of her foot. With a final glance at the remains of the fireflies, she wondered about what force could have caused such a message to be delivered to her. Coming up with no answer, Swella walked outside to the steps of the pyramid and looked out across the treetops and at the tribe she had called home since she was a child. Tiny dots of fire were sprinkled across the land—families sitting down to eat their evening meals, talking about the events of the day, and anxiously waiting for Eudroch to lead them to glory. They hoped for a future that none of them had taken the time to rationally think through.
They waited for their own deaths.
As she descended the stone steps, Swella felt like she had just woken up from a lifetime of slumber, her thoughts clear and her vision crisp for the first time. Even though she was old, poor, and now childless, she knew that she would help Eudroch’s brother stop Eudroch if she ever had the chance. Swella offered a silent prayer to whatever force created the dragons, that she would one day have that opportunity.
CHAPTER 29
AFTER ANOTHER DAY of building his home into the mountain wall, it was finally ready enough for Merrick to move in. Despite his excitement, Merrick was also relieved that Balach was staying with him that first night.
The two of them had managed to cook a simple meal of beans and rice and had tall glasses of apple cider that Fenton’s wife, Adriana, had given to Merrick as a house-warming gift.
After dinner, Merrick and Balach settled down on thick mats in the main room of the house to talk about future dreams and plans.
“Sometimes, I think I should join the Fianna,” Balach said, “like my father. He’s well respected in the clan and lots of people go to him for advice. But then I wonder if there’s something else I would be better at and happier doing. I know my father likes his job, but the warrior’s life isn’t as exciting as everyone thinks. He has to deal with the Earth Council all the time and the Queen—and he’s always complaining that his head hurts.”
Merrick got up and walked over to the single window that Fenton had created for him. He looked out into the night, but only saw darkness. No neon lights, no roaring cars passing by. He had come a long way from his life of only a few weeks ago in Tysons Corner. As his eyes defocused, he saw his reflection in the window, his face a semi-transparent mirage against the black of the night. The face that looked back at him was his own. Gone was the snarling monster that used to greet him every day in the mirror. Now, he saw his face—his own face. The puffy dark half circles under his eyes were gone, and overall, his facial muscles seemed more relaxed. The dark haired girl, Firefly, had been right—he did look like he had grown older, but he had also never looked so good. Without realizing it, his lips turned upward into a happy grin. He liked what he saw. Merrick turned to Balach, who was still seated on the mat spread out on the floor.
“One thing I’ve learned since finding out about all of this, is that you can do anything you want with your life. I thought I was going to grow old and gray sitting in front of a computer, in a cubicle with fluorescent light burns on my skin. Then in one week I found out that my parents weren’t my parents, and that I wasn’t really who I thought I was. Anything can happen, Balach. I know you love your father, but don’t let his life dictate what yours should be.”
Balach nodded, but still wore a frown on his face. He looked like someone who had admitted his own defeat without even putting up a fight.
Merrick suggested that they play the game that Balach had told him about earlier, and Balach agreed, a little spark of life emerging in his otherwise dulled mood.
Balach pulled a piece of rolled-up material and a small pouch out of his bag. He unrolled the material, which was covered in intricately painted swirling designs loosely arranged in a large circle. On the outside of the circle, the designs were simple curves that grew more and more complex as they approached the center of the circle. Balach then opened the small pouch and emptied out two perfectly round pieces of clear stone that resembled some of the marbles Merrick used to play with as a child.
“The point of the game is to practice using your precision with magic, not your might. We both put our orbs in one of the four corners of the material and then take turns moving them with our magic along the little pathways that the designs create. When your orb runs into a line, your turn is over and the next person goes. The first one to the center of the circle is the winner.”
Balach handed one of the orbs to Merrick, who placed it on the corner of the material closest to him. Balach did the same with his orb on the other side of the material. The two sat across from each other, both concentrating on the circular design, trying to see the quickest and least complex path to the circle’s center.
“I’ll go first,” Balach said, as he softly whispered the name of the stone the orb was made of, along with a command that Merrick was not familiar with. Within seconds, Balach’s orb started moving slowly toward the closest pathway in the design.
“Just keep your mind focused on the ball, and slowly change the direction of the orb as it rolls through the design.”
Merrick watched as Balach’s orb slowly maneuvered through the first curve of the design, making minute jerking adjustments along the way. After his orb had cleared the first curve, Balach muttered another word to tell the orb to change directions just a second too late, and his orb ran over the line of the design. Balach hit his thigh with his fist, and took a deep breath, looking up at Merrick to signal that it was now his turn.
Merrick had been listening closely to Balach’s words and thought that he could easily pronounce the name that would address his own orb. He was more unsure of the commands that Balach had used to move the orb, but decided to give it his best shot before asking for Balach’s help.
Merrick concentrated on his orb and softly spoke its name along with the command that he figured meant to move forward. The orb, to his relief, started to roll. As his orb approached the first curved alleyway of the design nearest him, Merrick spoke the word that he hoped meant to turn left. His orb quickly shot to the left and off of the piece of material, rolling until it hit the wall.
Balach laughed.
“Not too bad, Merrick. But, you told your orb to turn to the left without having it stop first. The momentum of the forward roll was too much to keep it under control. Next time, tell it to stop, then make it go in another direction. That was better than I did my first time, though.”
Balach was about to start his next turn as Merrick leaned over to retrieve his orb from the floor by the wall. Suddenly, the quiet of their game was shattered by a loud knock at the door. Both Merrick and Balach jumped at the noise.
Merrick got up and opened the door. Standing outside, a grim look on his face, was Fenton.
“Good evening, Merrick. I’ve come for my boy,” Fenton said, looking over Merrick’s shoulder to where Balach sat staring on the floor. “It’s time, Balach. We need to be going now, if you still want to do this. The Keepers are waiting.”
Merrick turned wide-eyed to Balach. This was the night that Balach had been waiting for. It was time for his naming ceremony. No warning. No preparation. Balach got up and dusted off his pants leg. He walked to the door and put his hand on Merrick’s shoulder.
“Merrick, I’ll talk to you later, after this is over. I’m sorry we can’t continue with the game, but I’ll leave it here for you to practice with. When I get back, we can pick up where we left off. I’m ready, Father.”
Merrick steppe
d aside to let Balach leave the house with Fenton. Fenton looked at Merrick before he turned to leave.
“Don’t you worry now, Merrick. My boy is as ready as anyone who’s done this before. Terrada knows he’s more ready than I was when I went through this. One day soon, hopefully, you’ll be doing the same thing. Just stay here, and we’ll be sure to gather you when it’s over.”
With that, Fenton closed the door, and Merrick was left alone in his new home. Already, the place seemed colder and more barren with Balach gone. Merrick gave Balach a silent wish of fortune and returned to the floor where they had been sitting.
Balach was about to become a full member of the clan, after which, he might not have the same amount of time to spend with Merrick. Pretty soon, Balach would be building his own home out of the mountain’s rock. Maybe he could one day build his home right next to Merrick’s. The thought made Merrick smile and helped to relieve some of the tension that he felt for what Balach was about to face. He didn’t have a little brother of his own, but Balach felt like family, as did Fenton.
Merrick placed his orb closer to the middle of the circular design and sat staring at it. He spoke the name of the orb in his mind over and over again, but could not bring himself to say it out loud. Something else was on his mind—he was still wondering about what Balach was about to go through. Then he remembered the secret entrance that Balach had shown him the week before. Balach had said that he thought it must lead to the Keepers’ Chamber.
He stood up and started for the door. He knew that a naming ceremony was considered a sacred and private event that one shared only with close family. Fenton would probably be with Balach, watching the whole event in person. Maybe Merrick shouldn’t go. If Balach had wanted him to see it, he would have invited Merrick along or at least asked Fenton about it.
Merrick walked back to the game on the floor.
If he was supposed to remember his own name as soon as possible, then maybe watching a naming ceremony would help him remember quicker. He had been trying not to worry too much about remembering his name—Fenton had told him that it would come when it was ready—but in reality, Merrick was anxious inside, worried that he would not remember his name in time to be of any use against his brother, Eudroch.
He didn’t like breaking the rules of the clan, or of betraying Balach and Fenton’s trust, but if the fate of the world was really relying on him, Merrick had to do whatever it would take to succeed. He could at least go and check out the secret entrance. Maybe it didn’t even go to the Keepers’ Chamber and he wouldn’t even have to make the decision. Besides, Balach had said that he wanted the two of them to be able to share secrets like they were brothers. Merrick walked out his door and confidently strode into the darkness, on his way to the secret entrance that Balach had shown him behind the bush near the building of the Royal Court.
When he arrived at the clearing in front of the Royal Court, Merrick tried hard to remember which bush Balach had pointed out to him. He checked behind three or four of the shrubs that lined the walls of the cavern before finding one that hid a small entrance to a tunnel.
Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Merrick bent down and crawled into the opening. After only a few meters, Merrick was able to stand up in the passageway and move more freely and quickly. He whispered the name of the fluorescent moss that grew near his new home, and instantly the passageway lit up with a soft blue-white light.
He continued forward for another five minutes until he saw a crack of light coming from the end of the tunnel. Merrick asked the moss to stop emitting light, and the cavern darkened within seconds. As his eyes adjusted, Merrick was able to make out the detail of the tunnel’s end. Slowly, he walked up to the hole from which the beam of light originated and placed his eye in front of the opening.
Balach was right. The tunnel did lead to the Keepers’ Chamber. Merrick watched as a group of robed Drayoom entered a cramped orange-lit room with a low ceiling and took their places standing in a large circle.
Thirteen men and women in dark green hooded robes stood in the circle, each holding a divinium rod that pulsed and shimmered with various shades of greens. From what Fenton had told him earlier, he was sure that these people were Keepers. Merrick was also sure that they were not to be taken lightly, being generally feared and respected throughout the clan for good reason. Beyond the circle of Keepers, Merrick could see Balach standing next to his father. Both had serious looks on their faces, Balach’s betraying a small but noticeable degree of anxiety. Fenton’s face, on the other hand, also included a touch of what appeared to be pride.
One of the Keepers stepped into the middle of the circle. Merrick thought that he must be the Master Keeper, the powerful Drayoom that Fenton had feared would want Merrick dead. Merrick followed the powerful man’s movements as the Master Keeper looked down at the floor. Merrick was just barely able to make out the stone floor engraved with what looked to be Celtic Rune symbols that spiraled from the outer edge of the room into the center of the Keeper’s circle, where the design terminated in its own circle with a wavy line drawn through it.
“Who is it that brings this boy before us today to take his first step into manhood and to become a true member of the clan?” whispered the Master Keeper.
“It is I, Fenton MacKerval, of the Clan MacKerval. I offer my son, Balach, and his name, to the clan, if you would find him worthy.”
The Master Keeper looked up at Balach.
“Step forward,” the Master Keeper growled. Balach inched forward until he stood in front of the Master Keeper, who was fully a foot taller than him.
The Master Keeper half turned his face toward Fenton.
“You have passed this way before, Fenton MacKerval. Your creation name is remembered by the clan—your power is that of the clan. You are a part of our family. Though this lad walks to us as your son and will always be so, he also leaves your shelter in so doing, and begins his journey as a Drayoom. He too will now be a son of the clan, if his name is found to be true.”
Fenton bowed his head in acceptance of the Master Keeper’s assertions.
“You must do nothing to interfere with the ceremony,” the Master Keeper continued. “Your only support to your son is your presence. This is a path he must walk alone, but still…his choices today will reflect on you and your family’s standing. Knowing all of this, do you still wish to offer him to us today?”
“Aye, I do. My Son is as ready as I was when I became a man,” Fenton said. “I give him freely to the clan.”
The Master Keeper turned back to Balach. He put one of his hands on Balach’s shoulder and traced an outline on Balach’s chest with his other hand—a design that Merrick could not make out from his vantage point. The Master Keeper then stepped back to his place in the circle.
Fenton stood, artificial orange light illuminating the sweat on his face. He gazed straight ahead, avoiding the eyes of the Master Keeper.
“What is your name, boy?” asked the Master Keeper.
“I am Balach MacKerval, son of Fenton of the Clan MacKerval.”
“Let this be the first telling of the name that our sacred Terrada, the Earth Dragon has bestowed upon you, Balach MacKerval, son of Fenton MacKerval. Speak your name, boy.”
Merrick realized that he had not been breathing and let out what he hoped was a silent breath. He thought that Balach was clearing his throat because of the gravelly sounds that started coming from it. Soon, however, Merrick realized that the noise from Balach was the beginning of a long word in the Earth Dragon’s tongue. It hung low in the still air of the cave, alternating between something that sounded like ancient Gaelic and more guttural noises that were nothing short of the sounds of a forest growing.
To Merrick’s surprise, the Master Keeper repeated the word verbatim after the young boy had finished, sound for sound. Merrick was astonished at how complex Balach’s name was, even though at the same time it seemed to have a familiarity and even a comfort to it. After the Master Kee
per finished repeating Balach’s creation name, all thirteen of the Keepers repeated it in unison. When the last echo of Balach’s name died, the Master Keeper turned once again to Balach.
“Is this the name that blessed Terrada whispered in your ear when you were in your mother’s womb, boy?” asked the Master Keeper.
“Yes.”
“How did you come to remember your name?”
“When I looked into the eyes of…of the woman, the girl whom I wish to wed, I heard this word like a distant echo in my head. Each time I looked into her eyes, I heard the echo stronger and stronger, until there was no doubt in my heart that it was my name I was hearing.”
“And, what is its meaning? What is the meaning of your self?”
“I am the love between two people that is meant to be and cannot be stopped by anything—the love which survives even death itself. I think that is what it means. I mean, I know what my name means, but it is difficult to put into words exactly.”
Merrick could see Fenton wince slightly, a look of concern passing over his face. Evidently, he was anxious about Balach’s hesitation.
“So, you believe your name to mean this? That your name represents eternal, unstoppable love? And you love this girl of whom you speak?”
“Yes, Master Keeper, with all my heart.”
“Do you now?” the Master Keeper whispered in Balach’s ear.
“Aye, sir.”
The Master Keeper recoiled from Balach and raised his hands.
“That is why you are here today—so you can wed this girl that you suppose you love, so the two of you can be as one in bed. That’s the reason you’ve made up this name, isn’t it, boy?”
Balach looked back slightly to where his father stood. Fenton’s face was once again hardened, devoid of emotion or sympathy.
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