The Other of One: Book Two

by Brian G. Burke

  “And what happened there that made you realise that?” he asked curiously.

  Nodding at the birds, she hinted, “Where else do you suppose the rhyme came from?”

  From an atypical point of view, this made perfect sense to him: “One for sorrow…two for joy.” Because, in the past, whenever he felt truly down in himself, a single magpie would visit, donning harsh and jarring antics. In contrast to those terrible times, as soon as William laughed…truly laughed…as he did just moments ago, two visited, and with such spirited freedom, as if nothing could stand in their way. But the most bizarre part of all was how William could feel a connection with them. A bond. This, accordingly, shed some light as to why those animals rebelled alongside him during his fight. It all made more sense now. And those weren’t the only ‘beings’ he shared a link with. For over the space of coming minutes, the entire east returned itself to a life long forgotten, as the Moss People were free to roam once more.

  Both William and Wren lingered in amazement, under the warming sun, as the darklands swept over into a lush blanket of dewy grass. Over arid rocks it crept; in through dark caverns and over the stony hills, like Anun herself had cast a monumental pail of nature’s enchanted essence across the east. Those so-called ‘plants’ did serve a purpose after all, and what a calling it was. Life of the land. Shrubs and trees never before seen, though oh so beautiful, with toadstool rungs and white petals which drizzled down around them like eternal showers, lit up the realm in abundance. Each petal would drift across the upturned soil before planting itself in, thus birthing more unique varieties, until the hilltops were bristled with acres of mesmerising forestland. Soon this new paradise was deemed, by those who’d witnessed its unfurling, all the more striking than even the western utopias. Animals returned to it by the herd, flock, and troop, while waters of streams and lakes once squalid, magically purified themselves to the clearness of newly polished crystals. It was of natural magic. A free magic. The way magic should be. By the time the finishing touches were done, no dream would ever know the likes of Shillíg Bég. It was alive again, and what a gift it was for them to witness its re-birth.

  Marvellous though it was, it still couldn’t compare to the heartfelt feelings they both felt when they recognised that same Úgmin mother, in the near distance, on a cliff top. She was rocking her child gently in her arms, and was looking back at them; and as the morning sun shone all the brighter, so did the smile upon her lips. Waving them both farewell, she disappeared into the west in pursuit of her family, where they would live out long and happy lives, without being held prisoner under the greed of ugly Slingtails.

  They could have stayed up there all day, taking it all in. But the time came upon them to reunite with their friends at the bottom.

  So, setting Wren down gently when they got there, the boy whispered, “Better get that leg seen to.”

  “I will,” she replied. “Don’t you worry about me. Now, go on. Your public needs you.”

  “My public?” he smiled nervously, having never been an avid fan of attention, as you can recall.

  Sighing, near timidly, William strode into the midst of all, whereupon everybody hailed him, bowed to him, shook his hand, and eventually hoisted him onto a young giant’s shoulders for everyone to see and cheer. Afraid of missing out on his turn—especially after Stell, Icrick, and the Dullahan had already bestowed their own congratulations—Khrum scaled up onto the lad’s shoulders where, he, too, congratulated him umpteen times. William commended his beloved companions in return, over and over again, insisting that he couldn’t have done any of it without them. This he declared with such sincerity. Because it was a group effort which made this entire mission a success, and there was not one of them who did not play their part in it.

  Suddenly, hushing those jovial celebrations into curious mumblings, a stern voice spoke above all, “I don’t know how you escaped that cave-in, but you did.”

  The crowd parted to reveal Redmun, and whilst his tone was grim, his strange little grin stated otherwise.

  He then put in, “You did well, lad!”

  “Thank you, Redmun.” William said, approaching him.

  He gestured a handshake but, almost taking that as an insult, the man pulled him in close for a brotherly hug instead, after which the people kicked off into their revelries once more.

  “Well done, lad!” he laughed merrily, patting William on the back. “Good job! We knew you had it in you.”

  “I might’ve had it in me,” laughed the boy, “but it was ye who helped me find it.”

  “And it was you who urged us to do so.” the Erethaoí winked, ruffling his hair, and he handed him back to the Dwelvin-Mites.

  The boy then requested a moment’s silence, so as to orate to all, “That goes for everyone! If you hadn’t o’ come here today…I’m afraid to think how it would’ve turned out. I owe you all so much.”

  An appointed speaker of the Mites introduced herself to him, then. An uncommonly beautiful young witch, named Nyna O’Groun.

  She stepped in and imparted, “It was the least we could do after everythin’ ya’ve done for us, William. For everythin’ ya’ve sacrificed. We only wish we could’ve done more. Is there anythin’ ya want from us now?”

  “Well…I do have some questions…”

  “Ask them, please, ‘n’ I shall answer as best I can.”

  “How is any o’ this possible?” he asked first, in relation to them being there. “And how did you get here so fast? What if something went wrong, and you couldn’t get back into the Grollo again?”

  A just inquiry, so Nyna answered, “Many, many moons ago, Anun told us that ya might be caught up in a bit o’ grief. A bit o’ trouble like. So she insisted that we leave the Grollo at once to go to your aid. It was but a short while ago then that these creatures found us… (She pointed at Ostly and Merkel.) …An’ they showed us your course, they did, only from a differ’nt route. A route granted to us by the king Elk, Mathus. He took much convincin’. For Mathus is a paranoid beast, who is right protective if his fellow creatures ‘n’ secret path. He cares nothin’ for Mysun or the prophecy, either, despite Mysun’s connection with four-legged folk…’n’ two-legged…’n’ no legged. An’ his word was always final, no exceptions. But, after many, many, many arguments, he conceded, just about. He nearly had us all assass’nated at one stage, ‘n’ b’lieve me, he has the army for it. He even lent us a few beasts, to get us out of his face. Then, in the final moments, ‘twas the music that showed us the rest o’ the way. Leavin’ the Grollo behind was a small gamble for the downfall of our enemy… ‘n’ to help you. We wanted to do it. For you.”

  Glancing funnily at Redmun, William deduced, “So that’s the mission you were on about before we left Ebyulán? You went to fetch them, and that’s what you were doing with those fireballs; directing them to us. And that thing on your wrist. A map?”

  Guilty as charged, Redmun agreed.

  “But how exactly did you even know about the Grollo?” the lad asked him, a trifle perplexed, if not a smidgen embarrassed. “I never mentioned it to you. It was supposed to be a secret.”

  “Thedius knows more than you think.” answered the man, leaving it to dawdle on the boy’s mind.

  “So where’s Anun now? Is she here?” William asked, looking around him. “I’d really like to thank her.”

  An unsettling silence overcame the Dwelvin-Mites.

  “A couple more weeks after our outset,” the witch answered, trying to find the right words, “we were ambushed, we were, by an assassins guild. Nightleaf, mostly…”

  “Nightleaf…?”

  “Yes…” she whispered, as if paranoid of it landing on unsavoury ears, “Bearin’ a twisted likeness to those black Witches o’ Wimly Whay, but men through-’n’-through, these tall ‘n’ emaciated demons o’ the forest, with bark-like skin ‘n’ hair o’ twigs ‘n’ moss, possessed the power to steal across open countryside without ever bein’ noticed. Equipped with newfangled cr
ossbows, they can blend in anywhere; night or day, day or night. That’s why we never seen them comin’ that morn, before dawn. Even with the amount of us, we still couldn’t hit what we couldn’t see! They would’ve slew us all, they would’ve, had it not been for the courage o’ three great dragons. From out o’ nowhere, they came! One struck with ice. The other two, with vapour ‘n’ flame. Together they brought down our attackers, the last of whom fled. But Anun…our dearest ‘n’ most faithful love of all…took an arrow to the heart.”

  One would’ve thought her tongue poisoned, the way William, Khrum, and Icrick drew back from her in pale horror.

  “We done what we could for her, usin’ medicine ‘n’ magic,” she continued, “but we only prolonged her agony. In the end, we had to let her go.”

  “I don’t…believe it!” William gasped.

  Redmun, Wren, Crosco, and Stell stood curiously by; unfamiliar with this person of whom they spoke.

  “She’s really…dead? Our Anun…?” wept the Grogoch, hoping he’d misunderstood.

  “It has been a huge loss to us all, Icrick, b’lieve me,” Nyna replied, with such pity. “I know how fond o’ her ya were. Yourself ‘n’ young Khrum here. However, these are the ways o’ the world… ‘n’ it was her time. We carried her body with us after the ambush, so we did. As far as a beautiful glade near Iywék’s northern coast, where we hid her under lots o’ incantations. Bringin’ her all the way here, to Lór, was out the question. For it would’ve only slowed us down, ‘n’ hampered us durin’ battle. She’s better off where she rests now; well hidden, near the brink of a pine wood, next to a tiny lake. Tomorrow mornin’ we shall head back, so we shall, ‘n’ caravan night ‘n’ day till we arrive there. And then we’ll hold a proper ceremony for her burial. She would’ve fancied it as her final restin’ place, we reckon. Outside, here, in the Lythiann she remembers. We would be honoured too if ya’d lead us there, William, then join us at the ceremony if ya would; before ya leave us for good ‘n’ all.”

  William; how devastated he was by those unforeseen tidings, and yet, it couldn’t compare to the sadness he felt when she uttered those four words, ‘leave us for good.’

  This set his mind on different matters.

  Could it be done? Could it truly be done? For an average person to be, suddenly, plucked from an old life of marginal poverty, to be sown into another of suspense and terror, of thrills and magic, only to trade it all back for the first? When it all boils down to it, could someone who had, at last, become somebody, somebody truly important, surrender it all to relive an older life where the only important thing awaiting him was his mother? But what if that’s where he belonged? Was glory, also, but a small price to pay for him to set eyes upon her loving face once more? More importantly, was it the right choice? Insofar as his reasoning behind his quest was concerned, then yes, irrefutably so. Who genuinely needs glory, after all? Stardom is all it is. It makes one feel proud and noble, however it is not essential to survival. And William had tasted it more, over the course of those few months, than most others ever would.

  If only that was all he had to forfeit.

  - Chapter Twenty -

  Enlightenment

  From the peaks of Lór, they made a swift burrowing descent back to Lythiann’s turf on the shoulders of Trenchins. It took four trips, but they were eventually reunited again on ground level.

  William was anxious of what he may encounter within that passing crust, in terms of corpses and graves. But he worried needlessly, for there was nothing sinister for him to fear down there at all. To tell the truth, on reaching the outside world, he actually saw something of supreme beauty, when the unsullied ghosts of those who were buried within had since resurrected their glowing selves from their cramped graves, and were gliding happily skyward, in dozens of turquoise streams, towards the cloudscape of a new home. It would seem that Briggun had been keeping them prisoner after all; buried away beneath the cold, timeless weight of wretchedness. All their freedom took was for somebody to end him, albeit, that was no straightforward task, and not easily asked of anybody.

  Eventide was already sidling in upon their landing, and with all the necessary equipment at hand, they set about erecting their encampment for the coming night. With scarce differences to that of an army camp, the Dwelvin-Mite’s setup was, otherwise, of green striped tents, sporting golden banners on top. An impressive arrangement, when you consider how many thousand there were; with two persons to each tent, bar our heroes, who each got one (Khrum was an exception to the rule. He stayed with William). And the way their velvety material caught the coming moonbeams was incredible. Superbly embroidered with those same exquisite markings as before, those canopies illuminated in the dusk like magic. William had nearly forgotten about those patterns; he hadn’t seen them in so long. Thankfully, Briggun’s east had been remedied of its prolonged greyness, all thanks to the Moss People; and each rock, stone, and tree were again bearers of those mystical symbols, right back as far as the first pines of the western wood, where William had first arrived.

  With the settlement assembled, fires lit, ale out, and pork crackling on spits, all and sundry settled in for a proper night’s rest. It was sorely needed. Chiefly for our band, who were running on nothing but the wind in their lungs those past days.

  Whilst most partook in this well-earned break, others were busy rustling up new plans for the days beyond. The Yacká and Redmun, mainly. The Erethaoí had been called upon by them, as it was his pets, Ostly and Merkel, who, under his given orders—as well as Mathus’—had guided the Dwelvin-Mites to them in the first place. And they wanted to use the same route back. As for the Yacká, they were remarkably proficient and trusted advisers of the Grollo, which is why they were present. To look at them, you’d never think it, in view of their slow, and often slothful, behaviour. They looked more like slobs than tacticians.

  They stayed up through the wee hours, by map and candlelight, as they strategized their forthcoming return, while the campsite otherwise snored.

  Too restless but, at the same time, exhausted after the events of late, after what he’d heard, and what had not yet come to pass, William partook in no sleep. By rights he should’ve been excited if anything, as he would be heading home to Ballycongraggon in but a matter of days. Then again, how could he be happy after hearing about Anun? She was always so kind to him; practically a second mother for the time he’d known her. Above all, how could he shed a smile when he had to leave probably the closest friends he’d ever had behind, never to see them again?

  A fair spell he lay in his tent, watching those tarpaulin walls rippling in the night’s soothing breeze. Comfort wasn’t an issue by any means. It was more than cosy in his little space. There was a large cushion of soft bedding whereon he was resting, and, reminiscent of his Grollo chambers, a half a dozen pelts were strewn across it. He didn’t care much for the amount of pillows he was given, however. He even had to kick a few off to get more comfortable.

  Keeping him company, Khrum snored soundly in a hanging basket above the end table. His bed was padded much differently, with fresh wool covered over by handkerchiefs. Clean handkerchiefs, I might add. This, he saw to personally. Last thing he wanted was to roll over in the middle of the night to find a three-week-old bogey the size of his head staring back at him. Something of a revolting concept, yet a valid point it remained.

  Beside his bed, Khrum had a candle to keep himself warm by, not unlike William, who had an actual pair of fire hounds curled up next to his own cot, slumbering. These belonged to Nyna. Puju and Mórgorov were their names. Puju was the bitch, and Mórgorov, the male. Nyna had lent them to William before turning in after supper, in a bid to keep his tent cosy for him. Truly magical animals, and docile too, despite first impressions; what with their fiery coats and deep-set topaz eyes. Hellhounds, you’d probably brand them, had you known no better. William was well used to Lythiann by then, however, so the worn novelties of its mystery and magic weren’t going to best his
sullenness anytime soon, which he ended up playing a tired host to all night through.

  Come dawn, when the streaking dunes of the heavens were raking northward, their campsite was already being packed away for their long expedition into northern Iywék. Being a pilgrimage of sorts, no one spoke much beforehand, or from then on. Even those who knew little about the deceased—namely Crosco, Stell, Redmun, and Wren—showed their respect by acting accordingly. They really didn’t wish to offend William, Khrum or Icrick by not taking part, and doing so in a fashion befitting to boot.

  Too tiny to know any better, some of the younglings were otherwise entertaining themselves along that walk by scuttling through the tall grass and in amongst the apple forests and golden wheat fields, whilst being ever vigilant not to wander far or dawdle, in case they held anybody up. They knew not to do that much. They weren’t allowed explore Lythiann this freely on their outset, considering how dangerous it was at the time. So now that everything was safe and sound again, they grabbed the opportunity in both hands and really made the most of it. ‘Twas cheering to see them enjoying themselves so. As for the older ones, well, they postponed their own celebrations until the burial of their beloved guardian was done, and done properly. No ceremony was too grand for their Anun, and they were going to make sure of it.

  From sunup to sundown they marched, and carried on doing so for many days. Sometimes they journeyed well into twilight, if the conditions allowed, while every day mimicked the last. The children would frolic as the adults ambled on soundlessly in prayer. Were it not for Lythiann’s magnificent scenery, and how their cross-country pilgrimage was presenting them with the perfect opportunity to appreciate it, the passing time would likely have been much more tiresome. That surrounding beauty was helping them to, I suppose, appreciate what they still had, and what they were given, and who had given it to them.