The Other of One: Book Two

by Brian G. Burke

  “There!” She giggled, proud as punch. “Do you see the shape in between your fingers? Spread them out just a little more.”

  Before the gleam of blue skies and the afternoon sun, William could distinguish the shape to which she referred.

  It looked like a diamond-shaped head, with a set of arms, and a pair of legs, all independent to one another. Almost like an abstract image of a person, whose silhouette shone down onto William’s tunic.

  With a pinch of playfulness which surprised even him, he laughed, “Well, would you look at that! There he is!”

  “Yip, there he is!” Wren chortled, tickling the shadow. “And he has kept me company many a night.”

  ‘Kept me company,’ she said. When that piteous and helpless sentence withdrew from her otherwise smiling lips, the boy couldn’t help but feel for her. Not to mention how regretful he felt for the foul manner in which he’d been treating her of late. True, he sometimes behaved so in order to gain her interest, but she didn’t deserve to be treated so miserably, whatever William’s intentions. Now that he had a chance to think about it, he could see that she was harmless, caring, and so full of life; very independent, too. But with so many virtues there was yet something about her which spoke of a boundless solitude and grief. Particularly after she’d so openly confessed her loss, and her reliance in a mere silhouette.

  For what it was worth, she did have Jimzin for companionship. But how could that be enough for anyone, with him taking off all the time? What was Wren to do when Jimzin inevitably abandoned her forever, to face the world alone? No wonder she wanted to join us…she was lonely, he thought. And yet, William knew that if he confronted her about any of this, she’d just put up a defensive front and probably make a joke about it before spouting some made-up reason to disappear for a while. So he kept his feelings to himself, and decided to ask Wren about her aunt instead.

  “Where is she now…your aunt?” he asked.

  Picking another flower, she strayed sadly into a fleeting silence.

  Eventually, she uttered, “It was around the time when people felt it might be safe to colonize to a wider scale around Lythiann again, because Drevol had been quiet for some time. I was just an infant then. My aunt and I dwelt in a small stone cottage by the woods. Near Dhrahanà it was, just beyond the old Roaming Dunes. Outside our cottage there was a huge sycamore tree with a swing hanging from it. She made it for me herself…but I was too young to remember that.”

  Wren’s face lowered into her scarf as her tale unfolded.

  “One evening, when I was nine years old, I went out to gather some blackberries for her jam. I loved her jam. So sweet. But when I came back…I found my aunt. She was hanging from the tree.”

  “Oh, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” William stuttered, for that was the last thing he was expecting her to say.

  Involuntarily he placed his hand on hers, only to draw it away immediately so as not to give the wrong impression, and Wren said, “Don’t worry. I’ve shed my tears, William. It’s fine.”

  “Did she…”

  “…Take her own life?” she asked.

  William gave a slight nod.

  “No…no it wasn’t that. Assassins of Drevol came in the dusk. Gremlins, mostly. They attacked her, mauled her, stole any valuables she had, then they coaxed her into…oh, into hanging herself…by way of their twisted mind games! I saw them leaving as I was returning from the forest. But I was too late. I keep telling myself that they would have killed me too, had I been there. I mean, I didn’t even know how to fight back then. But…oh, I don’t know!”

  With utter earnestness, William consoled her by saying, “Sounds to me like you did the right thing, Wren. If you had o’ been there, then who knows what could’ve happened to you! I mean, with you only being nine years old and all, what could you have done…realistically? It’s not your fault.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled, but there was no hiding her tears; and chortling, almost out of self-pity, she added, “It’s nice to be reassured by a real person for a change. And not some silly shadow.”

  Dominating her dying smile with an expression of pain, Wren set free her anguish, and wept. “But she was so harmless, William! To do those things to such a nice person.”

  Growing ireful and outright sickened by what this was doing to her, dragging her sweet soul into her own personal hell, William said, “Why did they do this? I mean, she can’t have done anything wrong. Unless they saw her as a threat or something? And I wouldn’t believe that for a second.”

  Donning a crooked smile, Wren looked deep into his eyes, and with a sniff she said, “She did absolutely nothing, William. Nothing at all. She was a simple lady with simple pleasures…that was it. But, you see, that’s just the way Drevol works. He is so mixed up in his own head that he isn’t quite sure what he’s doing! He doesn’t cause evil for reason or profit. He creates it because that’s just what he does! It’s not about land or wealth, or love or hate. Not even loyalty! Not to him, at least. Maybe for his minions it’s different. No, Briggun is simply born of pure evil, and nothing makes him happier than to hurt those who try to bring some good back into the world. He doesn’t need anything from anybody. He doesn’t want anything from anybody. The only thing darkness really needs to thrive, is to witness the suffering of others.”

  Expelling his rage through a breath, the lad asked, “Well, what happened then? After you found your aunt? Did you run away? Or was that when you met Jimzin?”

  A final tear trickled along the trail wherefrom many more had since fallen, and Wren answered with a ‘yes’.

  He didn’t say anything then. Partially because he didn’t really know if he could say anything at all to comfort her, being just too ignorant of that world. And he couldn’t really make reassurances about things that he knew nothing about. The other part of him was worried. Worried about Wren. Worried because this was his enemy she was talking about, and it was up to William himself to somehow abolish this demon. Abolish! Vanquish! Kill! Save for a few pesky insects, he’d never killed anything in his whole entire life. Yet all this was of lesser importance just then. His friend was in distress, and she needed him.

  Eventually he said, “Wren…”

  “Listen,” she smiled, anticipating his words, “there’s really no need to worry about me, William. I’m well enough able to take care of myself. I can handle all these shenanigans.”

  She giggled at that, but the hurt was plain to see. She then stared at the boy, absorbed in his concern.

  “You know, you’re not half as bull-headed as you seem, William Muldoon,” she smiled, and removing her scarf, she handed it to him, saying, “Here, take this.”

  “A present?” the boy asked.

  “Maybe, if you ever need to, it will remind you of a certain girl,” she hinted. “And a fiendishly pretty one at that!”

  Holding it up before him, he admired this gift of a dark, woollen scarf. It had the remindful scent of roses to it.

  Grateful, and a touch surprised, he said, “Thanks very much! And you know what, Wren?”

  “What?”

  With a fine wink, he grinned, “I think I can almost tolerate you…but only from time to time, that is!”

  Of course, he was only being cheeky, hoping to coax a smile. And with the most honest little giggle, she shoved him back playfully into the grass.

  Just then, a voice came calling from over the hill.

  “Food’s ready!” it called out.

  “Aw, Icrick! Get your foot outta the soup, will ya!” Khrum’s voice bellowed.

  “I tripped over your blasted cap!” squeaked a reply. “Watch where you leave stuff!”

  Wren and William sniggered at this. It was so typical of Khrum and Icrick. They could only imagine what was going on.

  “C’mon. Before they eat the lot,” said the lad.

  Standing up, he tied the scarf about his waist and offered her his hand. This took her by surprise, I must say; to see William being so considerate f
or a change. Thus, returning a smile of her own, she took his hand, and together they strolled over the hill for a nice feast of roasted venison and fried salmon with lemon sauce and fruit salad.

  They had Khrum to thank for the fish, so you know. He’d been wrestling with it earlier in the lake. A mighty struggle it was for the little leprechaun; thrashing and rolling about in the water. But he soon got the better of his scaly enemy, and was now enjoying the scrumptious taste of victory.

  - Chapter Five -

  Eyes of Time

  They had a grand blaze going beneath the stars, just at the outskirts of the horseshoe wood. They would’ve camped inside its confines, out of the wind, were it not for Stell’s guardians needing the lake as a base for their nightly perambulation. They were Water Guardians who arose from Stell’s elixir when he’d doused it into the fire. Two howling phantoms soared from those sparking embers and burrowed their way deep into the earth, heading towards the direction of the lake, whereby they took to its waters and were born into their true manifestation—liquid sentries, those of youngling krakens with eight gangling tentacles each, two of which bore the heads of terrifying lizards. Creatures that would hiss and champ at any menace in their way. It was their duty to patrol the earthly borders throughout the night, every so often returning to the waters where they could recuperate any loss of mass. Not a pack of Red Wolves for a thousand miles would dare challenge such a beast. They preferred pacing about in the clefts of the crags, yowling at the moon from under the cover of darkness.

  This is why the band kept to the outer margins of that crescent wood; for the sake of a more peaceful slumber.

  With blankets outspread, they rested around a glowing spit, gratified after their fantastic meal. It wasn’t terribly late. The sun had only just gone down, meaning it was some time after twilight. But they’d scoffed down quite a spread in such a very short space of time that they were completely stuffed and could hardly budge, so it may as well have been long past midnight as far as they were concerned.

  Picking his teeth with a fishbone, Khrum said, “Now that was likely the nicest, mosht scrumptious, beshtest feed I’ve ever had! No word of a lie. Full as a giant’s bra, I am. Look at the belly o’ me.”

  With that, he stretched out the elastic of his pants, and they really did stretch a good long way. William nearly commented on it, before thinking it rude. Icrick was more distracted by Khrum’s colourful proverb, but was too stuffed to bicker about it, so he ended up huffing gruffly instead.

  “I quite agree, Khrum old chap,” Stell replied with a puff, resting his hands happily on his gut. “Nothing compares to a helping of prime cut venison and a bit of fresh salmon on an eve in such a peaceful place. Incidentally, that fish was a fine catch…praises to you! Quite the gracious effort you made for our sagging bellies.”

  Demonstrating from where he sat, with a fictional foe hooked beneath his armpit, Khrum replied, “It’s all the headlock, ya see. My arms are wee ‘n’ shcrawny like. So that means I can get right ‘round their gills. Give a fishy four-ta-five minutes o’ that, then it wouldn’t be long givin’ up the goodies.”

  “I’ll be sure to remember that,” the Elf complimented, though all it would take for him is to give the fish one swift knock to the head; job done. “And what about you, horsemaster? Did you enjoy your hot meal? A lot better than a belly full of fruit I’ll wager?”

  “It was no lamb chop, but yes, quite tasty,” said The Head, who was now rather glad he’d helped with the foraging after all.

  “Well, I am glad you enjoyed it.” Stell smiled, as a sort of truce from their recent spat.

  Unaccustomed to such open pardons, The Head answered, “Ahem…w-w-well…I thank you, Elf. Much obliged…”

  While the chatter of headlocks and settlements were in session, Jimzin, who was lying beside the fire with his head down, started hacking again. It escalated into something much harsher and much more violent than before. So much so that his eyes were on the verge of popping out of their sockets like champagne corks. Rife with worry, Wren rushed to him.

  “Oh, no! Not again!” she whimpered. “Breathe, Jimzin! Breathe!”

  Suddenly, staggering onto his forelegs, Jimzin sneezed and, in doing so, he spat out yet another massive burst of fire. Far and broad that flame spread, causing the others to roll from its path and cower behind whatever was nearest at the time. It blazed, and sparked, and snapped with such unimaginable heat that even the very night recoiled from it. Gulping the inferno back down into his belly, Jimzin clamped his jaws together, and everything vanished back into instant darkness.

  Wren, who hadn’t budged at all, stood there proudly, and said, “Jimzin! You’ve done it again! You’ve spat fire!”

  In a state of elated shock, Jimzin glanced around at each them, as if to see what they thought of his accomplishment.

  “Oh, I hope you can do it again this time!” Wren clapped eagerly. “Oh, won’t you try?”

  A feral determination stoked within the dragon’s eyes as he got up off his belly. Drawing in a colossal wind, he roared to such a height that even the most infamous of quakes would cower to it, and out spewed a blinding combustion of sweltering-hot fire. How it shredded through the shaded meadow, turning the land crimson bright.

  Applauding his effort, Wren hopped up and down, and laughed. “You have found it! You have found it! Oh, joy!”

  Poising himself high ‘n’ proud, the dragon cocked his chin into the air and had a fine look of satisfaction on his face. Best of all, he was truly feeling hale and hearty again, because that so-called virus of his was a mere consequence to the raw fire boiling in his gut. He was bound to feel a tad ill. Wouldn’t you?

  Suddenly, like his fire had been quickly robbed from him again, Jimzin’s eyes flinched with confusion.

  “Jimzin…what’s the matter?” Wren asked, when it occurred to her, too.

  “Oh…” she said sadly, whilst sympathy grew amongst those who watched on, having also realised the reason to his gloom.

  “Time for you to go?” she asked, but she asked in such a way that her voice trembled beneath her wonted mask of grit, and as her weeping surely began to unveil, she asked, “So soon?”

  The dragon nodded, saddened by this custom he was forced to honour.

  It was during that instant that the rest could fathom the true nature of their bond. Jimzin snuggled his snout affectionately into Wren’s arms like the youngling dragon he really was. Icrick sniffled with a mourning tear. It almost had the others sobbing too, yet they held strong.

  One by one, they approached the dragon to give their final farewells and, with no small trace of respect, Jimzin accepted their thoughtful words.

  “Farewell, my friend,” said the Elf. “Not long have I known you, but I still hope we can meet again soon.”

  “Sorry to see you go, Jimzin,” William said courteously, with the Dullahan behind him gesturing a lonely wave. “And thanks for helping us with those hounds…and that marsh dragon, too. I can’t thank you enough. You’re very brave. So…I suppose…all I can really say is, good luck to you and take care o’ yourself, all right? Take good care o’ yourself.”

  Accepting William’s thankfulness, Jimzin bowed cordially, which the boy did not expect. For he was full sure that the dragon loathed him this whole time. Yet, to be fair, Jimzin didn’t dislike any of them. He just preferred to do his own thing, which is simply in a dragon’s nature.

  “Ah, sure we’ll catch ya again sometime, Jimzin, me aul’ flower. It’s not all grim,” Khrum smiled with a buoyant wink, before scuttling off into the unknown, where he could shed an evasive tear.

  “Back in a jiffy,” was what he said, and melding into a sob, he added, “Some bloody yoke’s after flyin’ into me eye!”

  After that, the Grogoch’s turn came, and with his eyes jetting like sprinklers, he bawled, “All the best, Ji-i-i-imzin! Be su-u-u-ure to let us know how you are kee-ee-ee-eeping. And mind yourself. Mind yourself, do you he-e-e-ear?”

&
nbsp; For their gentle goodbyes, Jimzin was thankful. With an air so sympathetic, a sight so remarkable, he considered them one last time in a way that declared his highest appreciation for their company gone by.

  Last, but certainly not least, Wren went to convey her own goodbyes, but she stopped and turned to the others, asking, “Would ye mind if we took a few minutes to ourselves? So I can be alone with him? I’ll be back.”

  “Of course we don’t mi-i-ind!” sobbed Icrick, ever buckled with tears. “You go on ahead and do what you need to.”

  Grateful for their understanding, both Wren and Jimzin wandered off into the trees. The others couldn’t deny that lost, spearing sensation which told them that this may very well be the last that they would ever see of that outstanding beast. A mournful concept for all.

  * * *

  Wren didn’t return after a time, so William wandered into the brush alone to see if she was okay. Into the wood he roamed, and how beautiful it was in there. All of the diurnal animals were still active, even after nightfall. Bright, glowing, butterflies fluttered from leaf to branch while the birds, who themselves were as dazzling as nightly stars, chirped and sang. He found it so uncommonly beautiful. A colourful dream. Then, beyond the trees to the south end, he heard the ripples of the lake swishing gently by the reeds, and whispering. Being the curious type, he roamed deeper to investigate.

  He saw the moon’s rocking reflection through the curtain of slender trunks. A toothed tree line stood tall just below a level crag on the far bank. Wren was sitting on the embankment closest him, not ten feet away, beneath the boughs of a weeping willow. She was having words with her dragon. William didn’t want to appear meddlesome, so he stayed quiet, and, as delicately as he could, he stepped behind a moss-covered trunk and hunkered down. He did not know why. He was just compelled to.

  From what he could tell, both Wren and Jimzin were exchanging ideas of extreme importance. He guessed this by the focus on Jimzin’s face. It was so resolute. Absorbed. Thus—yet with no complete sense of certainty—William had a feeling that Wren was more so dispensing instructions rather than goodbyes. Thoroughly she whispered, with exaggerated gestures. All the while, her reptilian companion was nodding and taking it all in. What could they be talking about? Either way, their discussion was soon over and, with one departing hug, Wren watched on sadly as Jimzin flew away into the sky, till he was but one more star in the night. In her sorrow she took a comb from her pocket and began brushing her hair with distant strokes, when suddenly, she began to sing.