The Other of One: Book Two

by Brian G. Burke

  “Yes…I heard!” William growled, sensing a dim shudder in his sheath. “‘My lord?’“

  William’s companions inched out to meet the Glog with faces of peerless dismay. Yet not before Icrick had a chance to stash the Symphogram a few yards away, upon some high rocks for safekeeping, in the event of things turning stale.

  “Glorgan? How could you?” the Grogoch sulked, feeling so very cheated. “You were actually on his side? All this time?”

  “Who is this being?” Stell asked, clutching his spear.

  “Someone we met on our path.” frowned Icrick. “A traitor, by the looks of it.”

  Wren had no idea who he was either. But neither she nor Stell stood by for long, before a noise called for their immediate investigation down the hill. A gravelly clatter. The shifting of stones. Something was on the move. With weapons armed and stares set dead into darkness, they crept in to see what it was. Stell motioned her left, while he flanked right.

  Khrum advanced on the Glog, arguing, “What in blazes are ya at, lad? What do ya think Anun would say if she saw ya now?!”

  Breaking into a horrendous laugh, Glorgan uttered, “Is that a threat, leprechaun?! Word to the wise—if you ever plan on threatening someone again—you’d better use something a little more intimidating than that! Anun…indeed! I’m quaking in my boots.”

  “Ugh! What an awful thing to say!” Icrick butted in. “She loved you, Glorgan. She still loves you! And then you go and do something like this? Dear lord, why?”

  “I have been promised great power,” answered the deserter. “Power to govern at will, and nobody will take it from me.”

  “I knew it! I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you! But I did! Like a fool!” said William, recalling his dream.

  “What were you planning to do, Glorgan? Assist Drevol, then kill Anun and the Dwelvin-Mites? Is that it? You know Briggun won’t share his power. We all know that! It’s common knowledge, for heaven’s sake! When did you ever hear of evil people sharing anything, ever, let alone their own power? Never! That’s when! Not in stories, and certainly not in real life. Don’t throw away your decency so lightly, Glorgan. Come! Help us instead. Help us, and we shall win back our old world again…together. We won’t need to govern! We can just live freely…as we once did! Please!” Icrick begged.

  “Darkness now rules these lands, Grogoch.” Glorgan snarled, glaring past his stony brow. “And if you are foolish enough to oppose it, then death is all you deserve. Now, if you would be so kind as to excuse me. I have a meeting with my master.”

  With a thunderous clang and a grating of corroded metal, the gates slowly opened outwards. From within, the gatekeeper was revealed.

  A wheezing Siamese goliath awaited him. Joined at the neck, this muzzled thing was so disgustingly obese that their sagging jowls rested like fleshy globules upon their chest, whilst their fat, tattooed limbs folded over their wrists and ankles so profusely that it either dangled like sleeves, or dragged behind their dirty feet like blubbery hems. In place of hands, were huge iron keys of a mechanical build so as to change in accordance with whatever lock. Daunting wasn’t the word for this outlandish monster. Neither would it suffice in describing how their beady eyes pierced from under those folds of sweaty flesh, and past the bars of their iron muzzles which, in turn, inhibited their mole-like teeth from snapping out at the nearest thing in a pitiful attempt to lessen their unbending appetites. Formidable. Spine-chilling. Repulsive. But while all that may be so, this creature did not once budge. Not at all. Not even with these strangers in their midst. They simply remained irresponsive to all that was going on beneath their noses, and awaited entry of the Glog, nothing more. It therefore posed no threat, remarkably. Should this beast be tested, however, I’m sure it would have been more than efficient in doing its duty. Bits of old hair, skull, and spattered blood decorated those keys, after all, from those who tried picking their locks in the past.

  “But please,” Glorgan smiled, before withdrawing, “allow me to introduce my family first. They have been dying to make your acquaintance, William.”

  A gang of Glogs were striding up from the soil below the bank, and how evil they looked. That’s where those bizarre noises were coming from. Wren and Stell had since retreated, and were making a rapid escape back uphill.

  Though quite similar to Glorgan, some were of a lighter shade. Others were darker and bulkier. Some were also quite fat, whereas a handful were thin and awkward-looking.

  “You almost had me convinced, Glorgan!” William grimaced, ignoring the coming Glogs. “With your sob-story about your family back home. You’ve let us down. Your friends in the Grollo. Anun. Everyone! Friends don’t stab each other in the back, Glorgan. I hope you’re proud.”

  “Bah, what do I care about those idiotic Dwelvin-Mites!” Glorgan opposed with disgust. “Weaklings. Goody-goodies. Buffoons! And you think I’ve lied to you, do you? Is that it? Aw…bless! Poor you. How will I ever cope? Well, you’ll be pleased to know, boy, that I was being truthful about our works of time, for all the good that’s worth to you now. Furthermore, I was being truthful about my being the Glogish leader. And you know what that means, don’t you? Yesss…they only heed my command.”

  Facing his legion, Glorgan then ordered, “Block all routes of escape. And capture these Fay-Rats for the master. Take your time. Let them…sweat.”

  Bearing a chilling copy to that same ominous sound they’d heard below the mountain that day, all but a dozen Glogs melted back into the crust, to invoke a formation far deadlier than that of any ordinary peak.

  A molten crater ascended from the roots of the ground, and, streaming from its edges, was a molten flow of hissing lava. Uprooting trees and crumbling meddlesome boulders into dust, this stunted volcano rested shy of those grand sequoias, rumbling ceaselessly as gloppy, sputtering magma actually oozed its way up and around the bank, and inevitably towards William and his friends, blocking them off. For this trap to work, the Glogs responsible had to remain below the earth. But this vaporous crater of ash and flame proved worthy enough alone of granting our heroes absolutely no escape.

  As for the remaining twelve, it was their duty to stop our crew from getting any wise ideas.

  “I’m sure Master Briggun will be most pleased to meet you face-to-face, lad.” Glorgan chuckled. “Likewise, I wouldn’t say he’d have any discrepancies about us walking you the rest of the way, now that we’re all here…hmmm? To see you get there safely and all. That is, until he gets his hands on you. Oh, I’d say he shall first tear your flesh from muscle, then peel your cartilage from bone, before skewering your head onto a spike so you can watch his disciples seek out and annihilate the remaining do-gooders of the land. Maybe you’ll even see Drevol working a little magic of his own. You’ll be able to appreciate his magnificence first-hand. It will be a gorgeous sight. Yes, yes! Indeed it will!”

  “Call them off, Glorgan!” William barked heatedly. “Or I swear I’ll…”

  “You’ll what exactly?” the Glog protested, and obtaining no answer other than a look of stanch loathing, he grinned nastily and proclaimed, “Just as I thought! Nothing! So weak, you are. So pathetic. Toodle-oo now, William. Must go tell the master the good news.”

  To his Glog minions he then said, “You lot. Keep an eye on them till I get back! And no funny business. I know what you lot are like.”

  “Glorgan! Call them off, I said,” the boy warned again.

  Giving him a cheeky wave, the Glog slipped inside the gate, before diving into the ground and tunnelling off.

  With a creaking bang, the doors shut closed on the gatekeeper, providing our heroes with no route of escape.

  “What are we supposed to do now? We’re trapped?” Icrick panicked, just then recalling his duty. “Oh, blimey! I forgot all about the Symphogram!”

  “Well grab it, for heaven’s sake! We need that.” Wren exclaimed, not expecting William to pay much attention.

  “Taking an interest in the Symphogram now, are w
e?” he said.

  “Yes! I am, as a matter of fact.” she snapped. “You know what? With all your mood swings of late, I’ve been half-thinking about leaving! Half-thinking of getting out of your hair. But, guess what. I’ve changed my mind. Too much is riding on this mission, William, and I’m going to do my part whether you accept it or not. If it means worrying over the Symphogram, then so be it! Somebody has to…coz you certainly couldn’t care less, judging by the way you’ve been acting around it lately. So you can keep your unspoken opinions of me. Whatever they are! Bloody fool. And if you can’t appreciate the fact that I’m trying to help you, then you can go to hell! Coz…I’m…not…leaving! This world is far more important to me than the stupid opinions of some childish baby. That’s right! I’m…staying…put, boy, and I couldn’t give a monkey’s what you think about it.”

  “Bah, do whatever you want!” he retorted. “Just do me a favour and keep out o’ my way!”

  “Suits me down to the ground!” she gnashed through clenched teeth, wielding just as much tenacity as he.

  Icrick then lost control completely. It was not like him at all, but he’d just had enough of all this fighting.

  “AAAGH! WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!” he roared, bullying his way in between the two. “Stop flipping squabbling, you two. This very instant! It’s so damned annoying, and you’re upsetting everyone else in the process.”

  Stell, Pew, and Khrum stayed out of it and allowed Icrick to speak. He was only saying what they were all thinking, after all. Meanwhile, the Glogs were getting restless. They never were much good at following orders. They wanted to have some fun for themselves.

  “You’re giving us all headaches, with your dirty looks and all your humming ‘n’ hawing!” Icrick continued. “Look down there! LOOK! These…These great clumps of stiff slurry are getting all impatient. It’s only a matter of time before they get sick of waiting around, and beat us to bloody pulps. And here you are…quarrelling of all things! For God’s sake, grow up and behave. Both of ye! There are people out there who need our help, and they aren’t going to get it if we keep fighting amongst ourselves like children! Children! Whatever it is you’ve got against each other all of a sudden, you’d better get over it and work it out, and start concentrating on our mission. That’s an order, right? We need both of you in your right minds. We need all the help we can get, for crying out loud. Understand?!”

  “That’s right, aye!” Khrum added, backing nervously away, bit by bit, as the beasts inevitably started upward. “I know, I know, ‘tis bound to happen—us gettin’ under one another’s shkin like this. Look at myself ‘n’ the Phynnodderee here! Always shnappin’ one another’s heads off, we are. But we always get pasht it. As for ye! Ye just have ta ignore these tiffs, lads. Honestly! No matter how severe or how minor they may seem. Because if ye throw in the towel ta these stupid rows now, what’s next? Givin’ in ta our enemies? Givin’ up on hope? Well, we can’t let that happen! All ye have ta do is look inside yourselves ‘n’ find the determination ya need ta do whatever’s necessary. Find that focus ‘n’ keep it there! Deep within. Never let it go! Manage that, then all the rest o’ life’s little problems will iron themselves out. Believe me!”

  “Oh…my…God, are you quite finished?” Stell argued, but Wren and William looked to be heeding him, in a sort of distant understanding.

  It even made Khrum feel a little awkward because he wasn’t used to making sense.

  “Wha’?” he said awkwardly to the Grogoch. “I can say shtuff too, ya know!”

  Everything he said was, to be fair, very true. Neither Wren nor William wanted their friends to suffer on account of their bickering. So regardless of their qualms, they apologised to their companions…then to each other, remarkably enough. After which, William made a silent promise to keep his opinions of her to himself from there on in, for the sake of accomplishing his ultimate goal. Easier said than done, yet he had to try.

  Once disputes were mended, Stell said tensely, “Fantastic! Superb. Beautiful. All friends again. How nice. Now let’s pull together, shall we, if it’s not too much trouble, and devise some sort of plan for getting out of this blasted mess. Icrick! First go and retrieve the Symphogram. Go on! Skedaddle!”

  Icrick scurried back down the embankment, only to run back up again, Symphogram in hand, but also with a small blaze kindling on his rear end…little did he know.

  “Holy Jaysus!” Khrum cried out, waving his arms in the air. “Don’t fart, anyways!”

  “What? What’s that supposed to mean?” squeaked the Grogoch, skidding to a standstill.

  The leprechaun vaulted onto William’s pack, snatched up the flask of water and, as fast as he could, scuttled over to the Grogoch, to smother his flames.

  “Phew! That was a close one!” he puffed, wiping his sweaty brow. “Had ya only known that your hole was alight, Icrick lad, I’d say we’d all be done for. Sound for nought but a shtokin’!”

  The Grogoch gulped at the idea of burning himself and his friends into cinders in the most embarrassing of ways.

  As the magma spread itself across the ground, collapsing trees and firing out geysers of swirling fire in the process, the Glogs were pressing through it like it was nothing but bog water; ready to seize the nearest captive.

  The group didn’t know what to do, so they just backed up to the gate, all the while fearful of touching its deadly steel. They were almost completely surrounded by enemies, lava, and a profuse wall of poisonous ash that was now bellowing high into the nightly heavens.

  “Glorgan is the only one who can call them off now! They fear him. “ William explained, through the mayhem. “And we can’t beat them with normal weapons…they’re made o’ solid stone.”

  “Their chins are weak, at the base…or so I’ve heard!” Icrick squeaked. “But I’m not going to be the first. We’d be burnt to hams before we could so much as flick their jowls!”

  “Well, what exactly do you propose we do?” the Elf smirked fretfully.

  William considered taking them on himself, for Thérn’s steel was strong, but there was no way he could contend with so many.

  So steadily receding, he replied, “We need Glorgan back.”

  Evoking his Glogish memories from all that time ago, a sudden idea struck him, something he’d completely forgotten about until now, and he said, “And I know just how to get him!”

  “Well, whatever you’ve got goin’ on in that ugly mug o’ yours, ya’d better do it fast, boyo!” Khrum trembled, with his dukes up and ready.

  “Just hold tight!” William said, rummaging around in his sporran. “Try not get caught. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “You’d better not be planning something daft.” Wren said, worriedly.

  “Do what I say!” he snapped, cutting her short. “And draw their attention if you can! Last thing I need is to be chased.”

  Stell had just the thing. He quickly grabbed Icrick in a bear-hug and gave him an almighty yank. Such a smelly fireball ensued that the Glogs did not know what was going on. Not to mention Icrick. He was furious, and frightened, and a bit violated, all at the same time.

  William was hell-bent on finding that conniving Glog.

  Thus, driven by his fury, he acquired an egg-shaped stone from his slimy sporran and sprinted for the outer wall of the pass, while quoting, “Rock, stone, flesh and bone, the Glogish way, I wish to roam.”

  By the second peck of that granite sparrow, William had nearly achieved full transformation, only the sturdy leather of Thérn’s belt was hindering him at the waist. The boy-glog wrenched the strap off, tearing it in two, then shoved it into his pack for safekeeping.

  Having manifested into full Glogish form and without so much as pausing in his dash, he dropped to all fours, stormed like an ox, and burrowed his way deep into the wall in pursuit of Glorgan. The chase was afoot.

  “Sure I didn’t know he could do that at all!” Khrum shrieked, blinking like he couldn’t believe his own eyes. “D
id ye? De ye know he could do that?”

  “You’ve got me there, Khrum!” Icrick replied, just as astounded. “Had you not mentioned it, I might’ve said thought I’d lost my last few marbles.”

  “Eyes front, comrades!” Stell ordered, sheathing his spear and preparing his bow for action. “Our prayers are with William. But for now, we must stand as one! We must hold them off until he returns.”

  Trudging through the glowing lake of burbling rock, the Glogs guffawed in the delight of knowing that they were on the brink of delivering to their master a most valuable prize. They might have moved lazily, but they were closing in fast.

  “Stand down, demons!” demanded the Elf.

  Loosing an arrow at the closest foe, it then bounded off his solid exterior and nearly put Wren’s eye out.

  “Watch it!” she bickered, ducking down.

  “Dear God!” he gasped. “Wasn’t expecting that. Apologies, my petal.”

  “Did you not hear what William said?” she exclaimed. “These everyday weapons of ours are useless against them. We’re just going to have to avoid them as long as we can, till he returns with the other Glog creature. There’s nothing else we can do.”

  All of a sudden, she heard Icrick crying out, “NO! PEW! WHERE ARE YOU OFF TO?!”

  Glued in a veneer of incomparable terror, Wren observed as the little Poppum flapped his way in amongst the towers of steam towards the Glogs. What little this harmless creature could accomplish against such brutes was beyond any of them.

  “PEW! GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!” she demanded, fearing for his life.

  Astonishment then shackled them all the further, when they spotted this little creature pouncing onto one of the bigger Glog’s faces where he started muzzling, with such unexpected belligerence, into his eyes; such as what a wild mink might do if cornered. Just the diversion William needed.

  After purging his enemy of his sight, Pew spat out two pale eyeballs with livid repulsion. The Glog fought blindly, swinging and swiping, when the Poppum kicked into a take-off and coasted back into Wren’s open arms.