The Other of One: Book Two

by Brian G. Burke

  Full at last, that lunar eclipse donned a bloody halo of dreaded scarlet light. Its bleeding crown drowned all courage from their eyes. Then, from every corner of Lythiann—east, west, north, and south—hailed a unified call. All evil had awoken to their master’s new stand.

  William had been through so much, only to get so unbelievably close but, still, be so far away. He turned to his staff; longing that he may yet receive some closing counsel from the Goddess of the Grollo. Nothing. Those eagle eyes had all but faded, along with William’s spirit. Ignoring all havoc and screams, he turned to his garments; clothing which wasn’t even his to begin with. They had been clad upon him, concealing his true appearance with that of a heroic veneer; something that he never imagined himself truly being. Next, he removed his gloves. His hands. The soft palms of a young boy. A child unchanged.

  He wasn’t aware of it, but Crosco had been watching him. He gestured at Redmun to go to the boy. To talk to him in his most needful hour.

  “Something troubles you,” he said, taking a knee before William, “and it is not these beasts. It doesn’t take much to see that lost look in your eye. It has been there for some time now. So I ask you, what is the meaning of it?”

  Trouble brewed in the distance and was only growing wilder, however this was too important to ignore. With the boy lost, they were all lost.

  William stood alone in his own private turmoil; everybody heeding him in such a way that they could understand his pain and desperation, and just how difficult it must be for him to carry on. It would be a lie to say that even they themselves hadn’t considered turning back at some point; above all now, when all hell was breaking loose around them. It would be so easy for them to just run. And the more they thought about it, the more tempting it got.

  William, exhausted, eventually whispered in self-disgraced, “I can’t do this, Redmun. I-I thought I could…back at the beginning. But…I just…I can’t! I don’t have it in me.”

  They listened quietly, with pity, as he spoke words that had been too long locked away.

  “I’ve come this far,” he went on, eyes averted in shame, “and nothing has really happened to me, apart from one or two things. And even then I’m not entirely sure if they meant anything at all! Luck, maybe. Who knows? I mean, what if it is true, Redmun? What if the Wrythus doesn’t come, and it’s just me who is left to face the Pooka, alone?! I can’t win. Not me! Where’s the point in it?”

  He was too ashamed, that moment, by his lack of passion to acknowledge any of them. Least of all Redmun.

  “Look at me for a moment, lad.” Redmun said to him. “Now. Tell me this, if you please, seeing as how you’re so sure of everything. What do you suppose got you here?”

  “What got me here?” William asked bleakly, ever side-tracked by his feelings. “I don’t understand what you mean? You mean Mysun?”

  “Bah, no, what got you here, to where you stand!” the man contended. “What got you this far in your quest, boy?! It’s not a trick question! Think!”

  Upset for being upbraided so, William answered, “I don’t know what you want me to say, Redmun! You? You got me here? Mysun, somehow? Icrick?”

  Just then, in the light of all lights, Redmun revealed to him a truth which William, on some unfamiliar level of himself, wanted so desperately to believe.

  Placing his finger on the boy’s heart, he smiled and said, “No. This is what got you here.”

  As soon as he proclaimed this, saying it aloud for all to hear, a tear slid from William’s eye. Just one. And who could think that this one tiny droplet could’ve diluted seasons’ worth of fear, disbelief, and enervation, making everything so much easier to bear.

  For William to be assured of something which he was never brave enough to trust in really got to him, especially when another believed it of him too. He needed this encouragement now, above anything else. Above even Mysun.

  “Think about it, boy,” the man explained, so impassioned by how deeply he knew this himself. “Not once were you forced to do any of this against your will! Never was a dagger put to your throat, driving you to finish this journey. It was this that brought you here. Heart. Courage. Belief. And your heart will never betray you. No matter what!”

  “But my home was in danger.” William said. “You said so yourself. I had no other choice but to do this.”

  “You say you had no other choice? Well, trust me when I tell you that, never, at any point in our lives, are we doomed to stray a single road. Never! No one destiny is ever set in stone. Roads to elsewhere, and different ends, will ever flourish. And if they cannot be seen, then they must be paved. There is always a choice, lad. And you’ve chosen to come this far. You! Alone! You chose a path which most people would be too frightened to face. And you saw it through, even without the guidance of Margyle.

  “But I ask you, even in this late hour, and trying as it may seem…do not abandon your hope in him. Please. He has chosen you for a reason, lad. Even when he was a youngling, etching upon his shield, he could sense the strength of one whom he never yet knew. Before you yourself were even born, he could sense trust in you; in your good heart. They say that every man is destined for his own greatness. Your greatness can be the destiny of the entire world. And he knew this. You just need to meet him halfway. You need to trust in him, so he can help you. And, in the end, it has always been up to you when your spirits would meet. You have to but realise why you are fighting this fight. You need to solve this. For there is no question that Mysun has pined more for this moment than you ever could. He simply chose to do it this way so you could truly understand it; to give you true purpose. A true chance. All you need do is but reach out and take it.”

  William yearned to make sense of this, and bound by his undulating confidence, he turned his ear to the cries of his enemies as they rushed in from those nightly canyons. They had come.

  Ushering their black, throaty growls was the shuffling of feet. Many, many feet. Enough to make those ancient cliffs shed its debris. Seconds later, a cascade of all Lythiann’s monsters, of every sort, flushed into that chasm from both passages on either side, all piling over each other like a rabid populace of blood-thirsty sewer rats.

  In a bid to hinder William’s fear from taking like the poison it was, Redmun turned his cheek for him, and demanded, “Don’t you look at them, boy! Look at me. And listen. I pledge to you, this bleak night, that you will not be alone in this fight. All I ask is that you do not give up on yourself.”

  “But…aren’t you afraid?” the boy asked.

  “Of course I am! We all are!” Redmun so openly admitted. “What kind of foolish question is that? It would take some force indeed to bear no fear against these ungodly armies, let alone one mind. I told you once to confront your nightmares, and you did it peerlessly. Now we must all face these new demons together, as one. And sometimes one drop of fear can be worth a river of bravery. If we use it right, fear can give us purpose. Make us strong. A world without it, is a world without dreams. Because without fear, lad, we would have no use for courage. We wouldn’t be able to appreciate integrity, for there would be nothing to stand up to. When all is said and done, we cannot have light without the dark, as much as we’d like to. And that’s life. We cannot control it. What we can control is which side we choose to stand for. And here, this night, we stand for the light of our integrity, as well as the integrity of all who remain on this land.”

  Raising up his hand in a bid for William to clasp it, he then asked of him, “Boy, take a friend’s hand and prove, not to us, not to your enemies, but to yourself that you have the courage to see this through.”

  As to a clashing of two sovereign seas, both waves of demons met up at the chasm’s core, where they marched out, as one deadly unit, towards William’s significantly lesser clan. Lesser so, that Drevol’s army need only pass over them for that to be the end of William Muldoon and our beloved friends.

  While all too conscious of this themselves, they buried their worry for Willi
am’s sake. They had to. He seemed more abandoned now than ever. He hadn’t yet taken Redmun’s hand; nor did they think he was going to. That’s when William noticed two lifeless bundles in the care of his friends, both of which contained two of the greatest heroes he would ever have the good blessings to meet. One was barely holding on, while the other was breathing new air in the clouds of another life. Both had risked everything for their cause.

  This gave him his strength, with which he grabbed a staunch hold of Redmun’s hand.

  As the eclipse sailed by after fulfilling its terrible duty, William bore witness to something of the likes he would never ask of anybody. Something that would take his heart forever.

  “We shall suffer this with you, William. To the bitter end!” one voice announced.

  Stell stepped up and placed his hand on top of theirs to endorse his promise.

  Icrick’s paw landed in next, as he too pledged, “Where you go…we go, William! And, together, we shall help you fight.”

  Then, “Get your big clumsy mitten in there, lad. What are you waiting for?” Crosco suddenly put in, ordering his bigger half about, to no objection. “We cannot, very well, let him do this without our help now, can we? Live by your side, boy; die by your side. Let this be our vow.”

  Nuzzling his nose in between them, Ifcus rested his snout on top of his master’s gauntlet. Nobody was about to leave him out, and he made certain of that.

  Then came the final pledge. The one which stirred our William’s heart like sand from shaking dunes.

  “You are an inspiration to so many, William.” she told him. “Since I’ve known you, you have grown into a man so intrepid. You’ve stayed strong for us, even when you saved little strength for yourself. You kept battling through those tough times. A sparrow through a storm. Now we must do the same for you. For friendship of a precious few bears a shield far mightier than a hundred swords of the indifferent. This is what I believe. They cannot break our bond, my brave young knight. Not while we stand together. Not while we have faith still.”

  A pact was thereby forged. An allegiance bound by friendship. Seven companions, endeavouring to battle impossible odds. They each looked upon this boy as true friends, and there was no way they were going to desert him. Not now. Not ever.

  “We’re all here with you. And aye, together, we will do this.” Redmun nodded, who was just as uplifted by their solidarity as William was.

  Then standing before the boy, he drew his sword, and stated, “The time has finally come, lad, for you to honour the leadership which we know you have inside of you. It is a gift to which you owe an existence. Now, trust in your heart and lead us…William.”

  William, freeing Thérn, gazed upon a pass now engulfed by a sea of ireful enemies, and as one they strode out into battle, with this brave young warrior taking point.

  Not an everlasting volume of the most daring tales could compare to the valiant sight of those comrades who, in line formation of unbreakable fortitude, were facing down a vast rabble of wild demons. An evil battalion which was once faced by legions, only to be confronted now by a mere group of heroes who potentially faced but one outcome. Come what may, death, as it were, was the only thing that awaited them should they do nothing. Drevol’s power would surely grow until he’d claimed every last thing his cruel heart desired. Nothing to lose, everything to gain.

  Every last bit of crawling filth you have come to learn about throughout William’s grand adventure across Lythiann, and more, charged at them, head-on. All bar the foul Goblin, who would have expanded their filthy army threefold.

  Otherwise, hot on their approach, were three hefty battalions of Ahueé, heavily armoured commanders of the vanguard. They were accompanied by many pet beasts; evil counterparts of any normal breed. Shaggy Croclins, flat-toed Aubérs, scaled Mink, and poisonous Grumtoad, to name a few. All dangerous, scum-ridden monsters.

  Six more platoons of greasy Merrows slid in through magical gullies to flank from the outer rims, using those golden piles of treasure and food to steal behind unseen. Gremlins, four hundred strong and fully armed with arrows, both flaming and cold, also marched in mid-formation alongside lumbering Glogs, who were chanting their wicked words by the rhythmic thuds of the stomp. Then, taking position at the rear were the Ogres; gangling folk, who were walking wild Devil Hounds upon bloodstained leashes of spiked wire.

  Demon faeries of The Glún were amongst all else, lighting up those night skies with little tactic, though in incalculable numbers, zipping in and about Drevol’s horde who shook the crust beneath their boots. Then, high up on the encircling cliff tops, a vast line of heads appeared through the fading banks of climbing mist. These belonged to the cannibal tribes of the Anstén Isles, witless barbarians who were too crippled from inborn deformities to even walk upright, but who made up for it with savage strength, particularly when in large numbers. Upon those peaks they waited, weapons of toughened bone clacking against each other as they lusted for the battle to come, and the coppery tang of fresh-drawn blood.

  The chasm floor was begrimed with cruel forces. Black with evil.

  “There sure are a lot o’ them!” William puffed, as he jogged aside his tutor.

  They charged slowly at their enemies; to weigh up all options, rather than just running in and getting mowed down before they could even take a single swing.

  “Here, take these.” Redmun said to William, handing him something from his coat pocket.

  “What are they?”

  “The way I see it, we stand upon one giant grave. So let us use it to our advantage. What I give you here are the last of what I have. They shan’t win this battle for us…however, they may slow our enemies down. So use them wisely, lad. And remember, they listen to your thoughts. So, at first, you must to control them. But once they find their stride, they should be able to continue well enough on their own. And, lad…”

  “…yes?” William asked, curious as to what he’d been given, when the man grinned ahead, and replied, “It certainly has been an adventure…and an honour. Now let us show these scum how we do things in the west.”

  William opened his hand to find a small, wooden jar with a window on it. How excited he was to discover that it actually contained six Weather Moths; except these particular Moths were larger than the ones from before, who also held a snowy radiance, as opposed to ruby, which granted them an air of rare magnificence.

  William yanked the cork out with his teeth, freeing those sparkling little cherubs into the skies, where they spun deep into the ashen gloom. No sooner had they petered out than the once-stagnant clouds collected together, setting a light drizzle down upon them. With a thunderous grumble thereafter, six streaks of beautiful lightning split the shadows of night, one shrill crack at a time, and speared the ground behind William’s line, resurrecting the ragged corpses of six faceless giants. Faceless on account of their heads being masked by torn rags.

  As thin as fierce Ogres these creatures looked. And rather than keeping Devil Hounds, they dragged after them great gnarly shillelaghs, the size of full-blown trunks. Menacing-looking hammers indeed. One swift clout from one of these clubs and you wouldn’t be long shaking the hand of king Thide.

  Icrick nearly danced a jig when he saw these reinforcements trudging next to them; two to each side, with two more out front. But he was swiftly knocked down a peg by Redmun, who warned them again that, though burly, these giants were still nought but frail bone enveloped by the saggy blankets of the weathered parchment that was their flesh. A solid knock from even a burrowing Glog could drop several of them into dusty piles without trying. However, given the chance, one giant alone could take out twenty enemies with one true swipe—if given the chance.

  “The smartest demons should be the first to fall.” William suggested, turning Thérn in a ready grip. “The rest won’t amount to much without their vanguard. At least with them out o’ the way, we might stand some chance. But, in order to do this, we’ll have to work together. All of us. Nobody can
hold back.”

  “My thoughts exactly, lad,” the man concurred, committing fully to the boy’s strategy. “The Ahueé it is! I suggest staying centered and working from the inside out. That way we can cut them down into tighter groups while staying fairly tight ourselves. Do the opposite, and that could spell disaster for us. We would be too spread out. Too exposed.”

  It was a fair addition to his plan, and just the sort of input William needed.

  Then, eyes front like Redmun before, the boy actually smiled, and uttered, “And just so you know…the honour, it was all mine.”

  He then broke from the group so as to charge ahead of the rest. Everything to gain, indeed. What heart he had, after all.

  More invigorated now, by both William’s acclaim and ardour, Redmun thrust another flare into the wind, making it arc upon its highest pinnacle, where it looked no bigger than a star, and he cried out for all to hear, “TO ALL! TO WAR!”

  He then launched in by William’s side, together with all six giants.

  Illustrating the heights of heroism alike, the rest contributed an intense: “TO WAAAR!” of their own before bolting in thereafter.

  They stormed so fearlessly. Like they genuinely believed they could do this; face the odds and win—Stell Crimpleton, armed with his trusty bow of elements; Little Icrick Tum, the woolly warrior himself, brandishing his new pan-knives together with a face so bold that you would hardly believe it was he; Crosco’s thrusting axe, astride Ifcus, his faithful mount; then Wren, with her daring daggers drawn behind her as she hurtled forward, headfirst, not unlike some stealthy street assassin.

  From a crow’s eye above, it would appear that a cruel sandstorm was meeting with his own minute shadow. It was both sides charging against each other. And as the rains galvanized to a single beat of the crow’s wings, the sandy mist consumed his bantam silhouette.

  Within an area heavily hazed by heavy dust were the cluttered sounds of iron scraping steel, and baying voices alike animals against humans, or beast against beast. Through that brown, sightless cloud, whose saline taste dried the tongues of all who fought within, murky flames could sometimes be seen, while arrows pelted the cold, hard earth and, at times, pierced warm, soft tissue. But not the flesh of anyone on our side, I’m glad to report.