The Other of One: Book Two

by Brian G. Burke

  Suddenly a daunting concept occurred to our William, and he shouted, “I hope the end o’ this ravine isn’t the same as the other side! A big cliff! What’ll we do when we reach the end of it?”

  Almost grinning in the excitement, Stell replied, “Was wondering the same thing myself!”

  This was not what William wanted to hear.

  Then Stell reported, “I can see up ahead now! And you’re right. Looks to be the edge of a cliff! We must grab ahold of something once we leap.”

  Thrown by this ludicrous idea, they all shouted together, “Leap?!”

  But none of them were given the chance to protest, as Stell had already hopped and skipped into a daring bound. Twisting his back to the wind, he plummeted downward to where they could see no more of him.

  With Thérn swivelling around in his scabbard, William grumbled, “Calm down, sword. I need to keep steady.”

  Nearing the spot where the Elf had leapt from, he then quailed, “Ah, why can’t this whole thing just be easy for a change?” and sucking in a powerful wind, he vaulted from the lip.

  Copying Stell’s twist, lest he’d incorporated it for a reason, he went down after him.

  There was a rock shelf there, which Stell was standing on. A lucky turn. But it didn’t change the fact that it was horrendously tight-looking, whereas all else was but a blind plunge straight down into the nethermost ranges of the unknown. Quick in his wits, William thudded down beside him and anchored himself to the wall before those high gales could carry him off.

  Fastening his footing between two rocks, he cried out, “We’d better make room for the others!”

  Then Wren and Icrick came tumbling over the cliff. They landed, one on top of the other, by the skin of their teeth. Khrum was next. He had his shirt over his face because he was caught behind the gusty Grogoch during their escape, right under his backside. He had no other choice but to mask himself. It was either that or pass out from Icrick’s nasty niff, which definitely would’ve elected him Taoisóg fodder then. A swift boot to the ankle was his payback; which most would frown upon, considering it was probably all Khrum’s fault to begin with.

  Running last, as you know, was Crosco. He had to clamber over the lip on his stomach, with Ifcus on his back. They were full sure he was going to get eaten. But he wasn’t eaten. Instead, the Taoisóg were so set on filling their greedy little bellies that they completely misjudged the ledge, and went flying off of it. He’d only just placed his tiptoes on the shelf, when The Head illuminated to an even louder state. An unearthly gush of water came blasting from the egress with a great wash of Taoisóg in its tide. Down into the thick brush of woodland below those rodents plunged, and what a drop it was.

  They would have cheered, but they were still miles above solid ground. The wild winds rode rapidly about them in all directions, only getting stronger. Not only that, but the precipice itself was weakening under pressure, now that the water had flooded the warrens, making the topmost portion of the cliff bloat like a water balloon.

  One leak sprung dangerously close to William’s left ear, and cascaded out with lethal force. Another gave between Wren’s legs, and another popped just high of Crosco’s shoulders. Had his head been properly attached, it would certainly have been knocked off then. Time was running short.

  Plonking his head hopelessly against the stone, as if to imply, ‘when will this ever end?’ Stell sighed, “Down we go, ladies and gentlemen.”

  Hoping he didn’t mean what they thought he meant, they nearly wept when they saw him sitting down on the ridge, doing an about turn, and starting on a treacherous descent by hand.

  Peering cautiously over the lip, Wren said, “That’s an awfully long way down, Stell! You sure this is such a good idea?”

  “Nothin’ else for it, lass,” Khrum answered. “It’ll be strenuous work, but we can do it.” Scampering up onto Icrick’s shoulder, he then ordered, “Down we go, monkey-man!”

  Pointing northward along the precipice, the Grogoch cried out, “Stone the crows!”

  Not thirty feet away, a second ravine had started gushing down. The wall was like a sieve, the way the leaks were flying out of it.

  Climbing down onto the ledge, William grumbled, “Right, I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but all this standing around business isn’t safe! We better get going!”

  Far below, a voice shouted up, “Have you not started climbing yet? Come on. It’s not as bad as it looks. Truly!”

  Gesturing to the boy, Icrick said, “Okay, we are right behind you, William. Just don’t look down.”

  Naturally, when someone tells you not to do something, your initial reaction is to go ahead and do just that.

  Peeking over his shoulder, William’s face seized up at the sheer size of that drop, and he muttered, “I’ll try not to…again! Thanks for that, Icrick!”

  Suddenly, five more jets of water launched out into the darkness. The tremors worsened.

  And because William was hogging all the best footholds, Wren was left queuing up behind him, whimpering, “Hurry up, will you? You’re wasting time. These walls won’t hold much longer!”

  Taking the hint, he made some room, and they all climbed down one after the other.

  A huge segment of rock then broke off from the cliff, thus springing an almighty gush down on top of them. But they were blessed in their escape, and managed to evade it, only just.

  Most of that climb didn’t prove too difficult. There were a good many grips and fissures at hand. But it eventually grew cumbersome, with fewer footholds the further they went. The stone, too, was becoming precariously wet and slippery from the water that was hammering down behind their heads. It was still very dark out, too, which only augmented the challenges of this nightmarish cliff.

  Stell found it painfully simple to navigate the precipice; climbing down it like he was part insect. If he was unable to secure sure footing in one place, he’d simply bound across to where he could find it, before proceeding on his rapid descent. Amazing beings really, Elves.

  The others found it somewhat more difficult to cope with than he. But not Crosco, surprising to say. For he’d already overtaken everyone, and was following closely behind the Elf. His strength was astonishing, you see (I’m guessing his chicken-stool of a Head wanted to get it over and done with, too). Thus, like the Elf, if he couldn’t locate a handhold, he simply fabricated one with his fists, and made his way down like that instead. These man-made cracks helped the others too.

  By then, alas, the water had formed into an all-out waterfall. It rushed down upon them with unyielding pressure, hindering both their actions and their faculties; Elf or no Elf, Dullahan or no Dullahan. Rumbling loudly, as of a charge of steeds stampeding through thunder, the falls spritzed up from beneath in a cloudy haze, drenching them through, and making every last step all the more fatal.

  Daring to glimpse through that driving curtain of foaming water behind him, William was thrilled to see that he’d passed the tree line opposite. Solid ground mustn’t have been far. And indeed it wasn’t. Not when he put all his weight onto a slick stone and slipped. The world twirled ‘round, and ‘round, and ‘round, while frosty water soaked his skin. Trained in self-control or not, he had absolutely no idea what was happening until he plunged, with a mighty splash, into a shallow pool just shy of where the water was smashing into the ragged rocks at the bottom.

  (It all went black)

  When it happened, Wren climbed down faster, paying little attention to her own safety, and she jumped down with a dhunk into the water. It was only a shallow pond, with the water running downhill into the mouth of some eerie-looking cavity.

  Ploughing through the pool, she fell onto her hands and yelled out, “William! William! Talk to me!”

  He was laying awkwardly amongst some rocks, comatose. All around him were the wet carcasses of dead rodents. Wren feared greatly for his spine. He’d landed in such a way that his lower back was propped up on a squat mound of bog, with his righ
t leg dangling off the other side. How dreadfully painful it must have appeared to her, and how dreadfully worried she must have been.

  “William! Please!” she begged, weeping as she lifted his head carefully into her arms.

  “Please, William. Wake up.”

  Just then, as if with much effort, his eyes slowly opened.

  “Oh, William,” Wren snivelled, “don’t leave us…please, don’t abandon us.”

  Hearing her cries, Stell and Crosco came running back through the brush, where they’d been scouting their path.

  “What’s with the racket?” Crosco panicked. “Did something happen?”

  Both he and the Elf rushed to her side, and Stell said, “William. What did this, Wren? Did he fall? Was he attacked? Pushed?”

  “H-He slipped, from about fifteen feet up,” she explained. “I saw it happening. One second he was there. Next thing I heard a bloody great yelp and a splash.”

  Despite being awake, the boy had no energy to lift his head. Wren then noticed how her cradling hand beneath William’s head was speckled with blood. It was the base of his skull. It’d been gashed.

  “W-W-Where…w-what happened?” he muttered drowsily.

  “You took a tumble,” she sniffed, tenderly rubbing his hair. “But it was only a small one. So you’ll be grand, you hear? You’ll be right as rain in no time!”

  Finally reaching the bottom, Khrum and Icrick ran to their friend’s side, with features awash with despair.

  Timidly cupping his paws over his snout, Icrick pleaded, “Oh, no! No, no! This can’t be! You can’t be damaged. You just can’t. Oh, my dear friend, William.”

  Scuttling onto Wren’s lap, Khrum took the duty of inspecting him, only to recoil in horror when he saw William’s woozy eyes.

  Nobody knew what to do nor how to respond. After all they’d been through, it seemed so unfair for him to meet his demise over something as simple as a fall. And yet, here he was.

  Moving his mouth in closer to Wren, the boy whispered, “Is this…h-heaven?”

  Then Khrum doted, “Bless, Wren! He thinks you’re an angel. Don’t fear, lad, ya aren’t in heaven yet. Ya have shtrength in ya. Listen ta me talk, boy. Shtay out o’ the light.”

  But then something transpired.

  Almost like he’d come around a bit, William tutted and said, “I’m not on about her!”

  It wasn’t his intention to sound rude towards Wren. He’d just witnessed something that was of much deeper interest to him than a simple knock to the head (which was all it was). Red in the face, Khrum realised that William wasn’t looking at Wren at all. He was peering past her, up to the sky. Pointing up into the opening heavens, he gestured at the others, and they all witnessed a most marvellous sight.

  Stars, which were at first motionless, were taking off like meteors to the east. First it was only a few, but then hundreds were zipping off, as rapidly as sound itself, towards the exact same location far east.

  William sat up, and caressing his head, he said, “Ugh, heaven? What am I on about? For a second there I thought I was a goner. But it’s just a bit o’ shock from the fall. It was the last thing I was expecting. But I’m grand now. No panic.”

  “Ho-ho, at leasht ya got a free wash out of it, lad,” said Khrum. “They’d probably charge ya for that back home, eh?”

  “Funny!” said William.

  One person wasn’t so amused, however. Wren, obviously. She felt particularly sore about what William said, and the manner in which he’d said it. Especially when she’d shown so much concern.

  When she saw him going back to being ‘plain old William’ again, she got all bitter about it, whipped her hand from under him, stood up, and stomped away like she didn’t care in the least. She caught Stell and Icrick watching her with suspiciously stolid expressions; like they were covering a chuckle, and this riled her up even more. Plonking herself down on a mossy rock, she turned her back to them and folded her arms crossly, but she almost slipped off it in the process, which made her even worse.

  Still, it was nice to see that William was back to being himself again. Not that Wren’s mild tantrum even registered with him, because the dramatics in the sky ever grew; an enchanting spectacle that managed to leave even the sullen lass awestruck.

  “Shootin’ stars. That’s all it is. It must be!” Khrum speculated.

  Looking straight up, Stell replied, “I don’t think they are shooting stars. Well, yes, I suppose they are shooting stars, in the literal sense. But they don’t look to be your average shooting star. I have never seen the heavens behave like this in all my years. What on earth is it about, I wonder?”

  Thousands of stars were at it now—brightening up and bolting off into dwindling lines across the night sky. And as they flew, they made unusual lashing sounds as they shot off. They must be loud if I can hear them through the waterfalls, William thought, when he had a sudden epiphany.

  Scrambling out of the water as quickly as he could, he raced for open land. He was onto something, only what?

  Like an overly concerned guardian, Icrick yelled after him, “And where are you racing off to, young man? Your cut needs mending!”

  William didn’t halt to the Grogoch’s call, so they were forced to follow him through the trees.

  It wasn’t as crowded in that forest as it appeared from above. Those branches were stark, through which the shooting stars were perfectly visible. And William was rushed through them like his life depended on it.

  “Wait for us!” they shouted, but he was soon out of sight.

  After sprinting flat-out for a minute or so, Khrum halted and gasped, “Where did he get ta?”

  “Over here,” replied a voice, and there was William, standing in a nearby clearing, staring back up at the waterfalls with an all-too-sporadic grin on his face.

  Spitting into the scrub, Khrum puffed, “What are ya gawpin’ at? Jaaaysus, I’ve some stitch!”

  “Take a look for yourself,” smiled the boy.

  There, high up on the cliffs, ran two identical waterfalls, flowing like they were descending two giant stairways of living stone. What’s more, they ran as a mirror image to one another.

  Every little detail was exactly the same. From particular rock formations to distinct cliff shrubs which bobbled out from the cracks. Everything would’ve been indistinguishable, except one cascade was running slightly southward, and the other slightly northward.

  “Two waterfalls…so what?” said Wren, who’d now given William the benefit of the doubt.

  “Two identical waterfalls,” William smiled, but they were still none the wiser.

  With his eyes filled with content, he then quoted, “‘Once the twins fall!’ He told me this would happen….and for me to watch out for it. Because, once he evolved, he would be on his way to help us.”

  “For God’s sake, who?!” Icrick grouched.

  “Redmun!” William replied.

  Thus, in the distant east there was a summoning of stars, and a procedure of an eagerly anticipated transformation was somewhere at hand.

  “Oh my!” said the Grogoch, gazing back at those wondrous stars.

  “Redmun?” Stell asked. “I know this name, and yet I cannot seem to put a face to it. Who is he?”

  Happier now, Wren answered, “A valued friend.”

  “So, how does he intend on finding us?” Crosco asked. “We hardly have to wait here for him, do we?! That will take far too much time! Let alone how repulsed I am about waiting…ahem…here!”

  “No, he’ll find us,” the lad said, watching the skies.

  It was as if he had attained a new sense of courage and hope, suddenly rescued from his recent low. For this spectacle reminded him of the way he felt after Redmun’s brief manifestation in his premonition; somewhat positive and well, and it made him wonder if Redmun could yet have a positive part to play in this tale.

  A new fire was in his voice, and facing their course, the boy muttered, “One more person to our group. One more perso
n for you to worry about, Briggun. Let’s get moving!”

  Throwing up his hood from the coming drizzle, he bolted into the woods.

  They watched as he dissipated into the gloom, intrigued and uplifted by his newfound attitude. In single file they then hurried into the night and followed him through the ruins of that awry forest.

  That woodland wasn’t as deep as they’d expected it to be, and they were through it before long. Thereafter, they ventured through an uninhabited wasteland, which carried on over a deathly level of pampas that only brought uncomfortable feelings. Stell referred to it as, The Old Flat on a few occasions, so that must’ve been what it was called. Yet their fears were more diluted than before, all thanks to William’s newfound optimism. If he could remain optimistic, why couldn’t they?

  Once they’d gotten past that awful plain, their tracks carried them down onto lower ground, where the already infrequent and wilted vegetation was being replaced by the barren rangeland of Sowén. Not a trickle of water wetted the dust down in that gloomy place of sandy rock and no wildlife. Bright as their spirits managed to be, four days then edged by in that rangeland, each as horridly unpleasant as the next.

  Their road was of sudden drops in and amongst feral terrain. They couldn’t even see the horizon ahead. This sandy course of ample stacks was all too bewildering, and those lofty towers of rock were of the many. A maze. Everything looked the same, and it was so easy to get lost in. Loose stone crumbled into the gorges below as the gales tore by, leaving their already waning wits on their highest of guards. The easiest way through was south, so that was where Stell led them.

  They’d also come to the last of their provisions. All they had to eat was some cold venison, which had gone rubbery and stale, and a handful of black currants each. That was about all for their daily meals. If that alone wasn’t bad enough, it was freezing down there too, in that grim lowland.