The Other of One: Book Two

by Brian G. Burke

  “I have no doubt.” the man said proudly. “Yet this battle was not intended for you, boy…you understand?”

  He then summoned the attention of all, to instruct one last thing.

  “Listen to me, all of you. Beyond this city is a shortcut which only some know of, and it shall grant us a hasty route onto Andin’s Shield and, thereafter, the canyons. First you must make swiftly for the eastern cliffs, to the steps of Sètanta. I will meet you there. Up top. All going to plan, you should be able to make the summit easily enough. Go! Follow the Elf. He shan’t lead you astray.”

  Privileged by Redmun’s trust, Stell embraced his duty and headed for the outskirts of the city, granted William did not wish to abandon Redmun so readily after meeting him again. He wished to stick by him; to give him his support. But he also knew this was not his fight. He grabbed Thérn from the ground, and ran.

  They withdrew from the Barren City. William glanced back to see the barrier diminishing, and two adversaries circling one another. Redmun’s hands hummed with an intense, silvery fire, wherefrom a sudden flash flew and struck the behemoth’s jaw with a brilliant cluster of sparks. The now-fledged Erethaoí had only intended this to be but a taste of what was yet to come, so the creature merely stumbled, quickly recovering its feet. Both opponents proceeded to orbit each other, scrutinizing back and forth with hatred of supreme intensity.

  William desperately wanted to see the outcome of this almighty feud, but the hour was potentially at hand where time could no longer be spared. And with eclipse oncoming, it meant that time itself was now also their enemy, coercing them to rest little and travel fast.

  - Chapter Nine -

  A Step Too Far

  They raced for the hills. Deeper into the east where the valleys, highlands, and that terrible moon, persisted in watching them the further they went. Those same glistening, beast-like formations that William had once sighted from afar, appeared to stand over them upon numerous stilts of warped calcite, and with grave contempt they peered like Godly creations of a malevolent class. ‘Twas then, not too far in the distance, he spotted the grand steps to which Redmun was referring. The lordly steps of Sètanta.

  Comparable to two great plateaus set one on top of the other, this incredible formation took the shape of two gigantic steps which lumbered on farther than the emptiness of Shillìg Bèg itself.

  They didn’t let up until they came upon a beaten cliff trail, smothered by reeds and loose stone. Zigzagging their way up that boggy way, they ascended the first plateau. Then, before their awestricken eyes, was the next high wall of sheer rock. It went on for leagues in both bearings. To walk around it would have undoubtedly meant days, if not weeks. Time they could not spare. First they thought to climb it, but it was so steep that one deceitful step could’ve meant plummeting to a bloody end.

  They searched for hours; trying to, I suppose, find a split in the face which they might use to reach the crest, only there was nothing of the sort. Not so much as a single foothold. There may have been some withered trees leaning about, yes, but none of them were tall enough to reach the summit of that massive climb. Above all else—and possibly the cruellest aspect of all—was the abundance of tiny shards that jutted out all over the precipice. One good paring from one of these nasty little thorns and the blood wouldn’t be long running, and that’s no mistake. Nor did these shards promote any style of coarseness to which their boot-soles could grip whilst scaling a rope or perhaps a vine; neither of such they could find, nor even lob to the summit if they did. That surface was ruthless and alien, as with every other natural creation in Shillìg Bèg.

  This felt like a lost cause, and they were bewildered as to why Redmun had directed them there. They were losing precious time, standing there, thinking. He must’ve know this would happen.

  “Well, this is another fine pickle we’ve gotten ourselves into,” said Khrum, examining the prickly precipice. “What are we supposed ta do now? Any ideas?”

  Stell had returned from his explorations a little further down, but with no positive tidings.

  “It does not look promising,” said he, with a sigh. “The cliff just goes on the same way for miles. The only solution I can think of is for us to wait down here for your friend Redmun, rather than waiting up top. Better that than leave without him. We really could use his help.”

  Taking a mock battle stance, he then spoke daringly, “Did you see how Sidell recoiled upon his entry? The fear in her eyes! Now that was something.”

  “Suppose we walk and pray that we come across some decent grips along the way?” Wren suggested, studying the wall as it faded despairingly from all view.

  “But then there’s a good chance we might miss him altogether, and he may never find us!” Icrick pointed out. “And personally, I think he’d be a jolly good ally…like Stell says. I vote we wait here.”

  William waited at the edge of the plateau and was looking down into the darkness of the lands below. He recognised nothing of any great optimism, other than a spooky quietness which foretold of no impending trouble. Then a voice spoke out. Opinions better left unspoken. Opinions of…The Head.

  “And how do we know Redmun isn’t already done for? Who’s to say that Sidell and her beast aren’t already on our tails…this very instant…as we speak?!” he cried, hushing all with his sudden bout of pessimism. “Wait for Redmun? Bah! All we wait for here is our doom.”

  Refusing to believe such morbid folly, particularly from one who was so fairly treated by Redmun, William paced from the cliff’s edge and disputed, “Redmun will be fine! Liven up and stop talking rubbish…for once!”

  Crosco’s negativity was beginning to take its toll on William, and he really didn’t wish to hear his baleful views under the circumstances. He was worried enough as it was. He had all the time in the world for Ifcus and The Body, and they felt the same in return. But The Head was getting to be a little too much for him in this ominous hour.

  “Yes, well, what if he’s not, William?” yelled The Head, as William’s migraine began flooding back with a vengeance. “He could be down there, right now, getting mauled by that…that thing! More than likely dragging that unfortunate little Pew vermin down with him! I’m not ashamed to say, to drag him into this is a tragedy. But what can we do about it now? Here? Stuck up here on this cliff? I mean, really, how irresponsible can one be?”

  (The boy tightens his fists…)

  “Look at us.” Crosco continued. “Standing at this dead end like idiots. We’re easy pickings for whatever decides to come at us next. Oh, to hell with him, that bloody wizard. Leave the fool down there.”

  (His teeth start to grind…)

  “If he falls to Sidell then tough! Better him than me!”

  Then, like waking steam in a corked ewer, William suddenly snapped and permitted the release of all pressures; letting loose the livid vapours of his anger, irritation, and stress.

  Reddened in face, and bearing a cry which exhibited outright intolerance, he yelled, “Listen! There’s only one fool up here and that’s you, Crosco! I’ve heard just about enough o’ your lip for one day, so just SHUT IT!”

  This remark was not aimed at them, so Ifcus and The Body accepted William’s outburst soundly enough, but they weren’t without shock.

  “Oh, and who do you think you’re talking to…oh, dear and mighty Lord of Lythiann?” The Head mocked and Ifcus downed his gaze. “You come here, onto my world, and you think you can boss me around and jeopardize my hide? You have some nerve.”

  “Nobody thinks they’re the lord of anyone—” Stell started to arbitrate.

  William stepped in and said, “Listen, I never asked to be brought here, Crosco. But I’m here now, and there’s nothing I can do about it. And never once did I call myself a lord, a leader, or anything like that. All I’ve done is try to get through this nightmare as best I can, so I can get home and find my mother safe and sound. As a matter o’ fact, who asked you to come along in the first place? Don’t get me wrong, I
’m happy to have Ifcus and your other half here with us. At least they make an effort! But you’re just a whiny, selfish, annoying, old head!”

  Everybody went as still as scared kittens, and Ifcus’ bewildered eyes had flung open wide, anxious of what snide remarks Crosco would undoubtedly dish out next.

  The Head grimaced and was mumbling, angrily to himself. And as sure as can be, his gloves came off.

  “Oh! Oooh!” he sneered and, what he said next, he uttered in a soft, sneaky and maniacal manner. “Well, let me tell you something, boy! All hope for these lands has already been lost. Yes, this world has already crumbled. You just don’t know it yet. Do you know why it is doomed? It is doomed because everybody has invested all of their hopes in you. And do you know what else? No hero is going to come and deliver you their power. No! Absolutely no magic will come upon you, because those were just myths! And you, being the imbecile that you are, got taken in by them. Defeat Drevol Briggun? You? Pfff! I’ve never heard such drivel in all my years. You are just a scared little boy who is going to get crushed by our enemy! And all of your friends, your home, and your life will be gone. Gone. GONE!”

  Dead silence dwelled throughout. The sort of tension that forced each of them back inside their own private shells, for nobody could believe what had just happened. Nobody would believe Crosco could say such things, in spite of his usual ways. Over a silly little scuffle—albeit some words were uncalled for on William’s part—he tried his hardest to make the lad doubt himself; ultimately putting the fate of everybody else in jeopardy. He was a wicked, miserable blaggard, was Crosco, when he wanted to be. Looking at him emotionlessly, silently and, most probably scared, William stood down and argued no more. He then turned and walked away, so as to be by himself for a spell.

  Ifcus, having climbed from his harness, looked at The Head in a way of bitter disgust, then hobbled over to William, who was leaning by the cliff wall, thinking to himself, gently tapping a rock with his boot.

  The Body was about to place The Head down and join them, when Crosco snarled, “Don’t…even…think about it!”

  That wretched curse of abidance was the bane of The Body’s life in that moment. Nothing…nothing…would’ve made him happier than to dropkick Crosco’s head right back over into Sidell’s den, and that would be the end of him. Yet he was but the heart of their operation. One who was cursed to obey the orders of the mind, so he couldn’t do such things.

  Refusing to accept Crosco’s dreadful ideas, Icrick asked, “How could you say such things, Crosco? How could you even believe them?”

  Then The Head opposed, “I believe what I wish, Grogoch! I mustn’t have been in my right mind when I tagged along on this foolhardy mission of yours. I was perfectly happy until you lot came along. Happy and at peace.”

  In a considerate enough manner, Stell approached Crosco, and said, “Well, then. I’m sorry to say, my friend, but if you truly have no belief in this cause…or William…then I think it is best for all of us, you included, if you just…well…leave. I regret asking this of you, believe me. However, you are obviously not happy here in our company. So, if you think you’d feel more settled at home, then maybe you should return there…”

  Nobody wanted this, but their adventure had become so taxing that they probably would’ve been better off without his cruel and unwarranted opinions. It wasn’t doing any of them any good.

  “Oh, you bet your boots I will, Elf!” growled The Head. “I’m through hanging around with you useless bunch of…of…of suicide cases. As for him…Muldoon…he’s just a lost cause altogether, despite what you think. Dig your graves if it makes you feel any better. I, however, will not be a part of it. Ifcus! Come hither, at once!”

  Ifcus was resting his snout upon William’s shoulder. He wanted to make it clear that neither he nor The Body agreed with Crosco. Nor did they wish to desert their newfound friends. But Crosco, despite his self-interest, was also a dear companion to the steed, one whom he’d known his entire life. Alas, he had to go with him.

  As glum as the boy was, he didn’t fail to give Ifcus one gentle hug while whispering into his ear, “Sorry it had to be like this, Ifcus. I wish you didn’t have to go. But Stell’s right; if your master isn’t happy here, maybe he should go home, where he’s happier. It’d be unfair to ask him to stay if he doesn’t want to.”

  Ifcus snickered softly, wishing he could stay.

  “I know you’d stick with us if you could, Ifcus,” the lad said, with his voice trembling. “But it’s not fair for you to be stuck in the middle, and Crosco’s your friend, too. He needs you just as much as we do, and you can’t abandon him. But, maybe, when all this is over, we can visit you again?”

  If anyone, no matter how hard-hearted, looked upon Ifcus then without a clammed throat, it would’ve been a feat of sheer hollowness. He was so heartbroken. He really didn’t want to leave, but he knew it wasn’t right to desert his master, either. Closing his eyes, he nuzzled deeper still, so as to convey one last lonely goodbye.

  “I’ll miss you, boy,” William sniffed, “so much. Now, go on. Take care of yourself. And take care of your master, too.”

  Staggering over to The Body, with his head sagging low, Ifcus give them all one last glance. Neither Wren nor Icrick could deny weeping at the sadness of this farewell.

  “Oh, don’t be so damn miserable you.” Crosco said to his steed. “We don’t need the likes of him in our lives anyway. Come, we shall be back in the west before you know it. Back to where it’s safe and quiet.”

  Sick of the sight of his master, and careless for what he had to say, Ifcus turned his back and in a saddened, appalled way, refused to accept anything that slithered from his virulent lips.

  Alas, as of some watercolour long since loved, they started upon that long journey home, to where the lowlands of the world eventually faded to the bleakness of that winter’s night.

  Khrum, Icrick, Wren, and the Elf waved a farewell to the Dullahan, with Stell being the one to utter, “So long, my friends. Follow the western star. That should lead you far south of the city. It is a much longer voyage, but it should see you quite safe. Godspeed.”

  “Besht o’ luck ta ye, lads,” Khrum whispered; Icrick behind him, waving, with a trembling chin.

  With a solitary nod from Ifcus, the Dullahan disappeared back down the old cliff trail.

  His little speech notwithstanding, they were indeed going to miss Crosco and his quirky ways. Not to mention Ifcus and The Body.

  “How will they ever get past the boatman again?” Wren asked Stell. “And that massive canyon?”

  Stell replied, “They need not rush against time anymore, as we must. They shall find a safe passage, eventually. May God be with them on their journey, our dear, dear friends.”

  The Dullahan withdrew, and William stood by the wall, his back turned, hiding a lost expression. He wasn’t blubbering. He was just very upset to think that Ifcus and The Body were actually leaving. He really was very fond of them, you see. He was rather partial to The Head too, all things considered. But the stress of everything had somehow thrust his mood into an uncontrollable rage, a rage that discharged all his criticisms towards old Crosco. But never would he have believed, in his wildest dreams, that he could take it so far.

  Wren didn’t want to leave him alone during that unhappy time, so she went to him. The remaining few dispersed to collect some wood for a small fire. That way they could wait for Redmun in some sort of comfort.

  “How are you?” she asked, caressing his shoulder.

  “Ah, I’m grand,” he found himself answering. “They were just words, really…”

  “You know he didn’t mean it, don’t you?” she asked, trying to catch his eye.

  “I know, and I feel kind o’ bad about what I said to him. It’s just, I’m tired…and I’m scared! There’s so much going on, that I don’t even know if I understand the half of it! It’s just so confusing. Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe I should call him back and say sorry?”


  He was about to go after the Dullahan, when Wren stopped him with the words, “They’re gone, William. Let them be. If that’s Crosco wish, then grant him it. It’s his choice. I’m sure, in his own heart, he feels just as bad for what he said to you.”

  “Maybe…” William smiled, but it withered before it could bloom.

  She could see how everything was hindering him. The agonies of question and worry. And the guilt of that quarrel only made it worse. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, for it affected her just as badly.

  “Listen to me,” she said ardently, taking his face in her hands. “You do have strength in you! We all see it! Me…Stell…Khrum…Ifcus! Not to mention how you’re a hero to Icrick over there. I know he doesn’t exactly say it, but he admires you a great deal. His actions say it all! And Redmun. He thinks the world of you, because you are so unbelievably special to him, and you make him so proud. I realise what I am about to say is often thrown around lightly, but he really does see the good in himself because of you, William…”

  Expressing an even deeper truth, she added, “…and even Crosco believes in you, heedless of his tongue. He’s just scared, like the rest of us. It’s as you said, William, ‘they were just words.’ Nothing spurs a rib harder than the heels of those who want us to stumble at the first fence, and when that time comes you’ll show them all. But, all things considered, Crosco isn’t one of those petty people. He was just worried. And worrying can make us do and say things we would never ordinarily dream. So don’t let his words sway you now. Besides, your reason for being here is to influence…not be influenced. Deep inside, you have that ability. That virtue. I know you do! We know you do. Now, promise me you will never, ever let doubt tell you otherwise. Swear to it!”

  Once again, her compassion baffled him. Only she could grant him this special feeling. She always appeared so upset by his dismay; a comforting closeness which could not otherwise be, without the cold irony of hindrance.

  Giving in to her heartfelt gaze, he waited, wordlessly, wondering how she could care so very much for him when he found it so difficult to care about himself those days, then he uttered, “I promise.”