The Other of One: Book Two

by Brian G. Burke

  As everybody went about helping themselves to food and drink, William nosed off by himself for a tad. Not far. Just over to the wood’s edge, where he could take a look at the portal. A strange sense of coldness overshadowed him when he saw it, forcing the hairs to stand up on the back of his neck. Perhaps this was down to it being a more serious matter than the joviality elsewhere. Either way, it made him shudder something awful.

  Tucked away just inside the darkness, the vortex eddied like the whirling of a plughole; two robed guardians stood either side of it, holding huge glaives, with pelted humps, and patterned helms of fine silver. The vortex churned without end, making spirals of any boughs that got caught up in its flow, like blotches of paint being tipped into ripples. By rights, young William should have felt a lot happier than he was, only this icy sensation was preventing him from feeling so. It reminded him of the loneliness he’d felt before. But then he remembered his mother, and only through this memory was he ready to make peace with his return. And while spending an eternity in the serenity of Lythiann was a dream of dreams for him, it was not where he belonged.

  Permitting the magical gateway one departing glance, he ambled back to the party. One tiny white flake that swirled out from within, as he wandered away. It landed, like a feather, upon grass where he’d stood. Latching onto a puff of wind, it then blew away into nothing.

  Rosefinches were out stalking worms in the dew by the time the celebrations had retired, and what a merry night it was, too. The whole time was spent dancing, eating, and drinking. Even William had a jig or three around the bonfire. He was partnered up with Wren mostly, and who could blame him? Anytime he wasn’t dancing, he was being given the king’s-chair by merry Mites, so often that his backside went numb. In which case, the bumps were called for, which wasn’t much better, but he didn’t complain. He found it hilarious, if anything. And, disappointments aside, both he and the girl had a fantastic night in the end.

  Icrick and Khrum spent much of it sitting amongst friends whom they hadn’t seen since they’d left. The Dullahan joined them later on, only to doze off after swamping just under nine gallons of that gooseberry stuff. Ifcus needed no better invite to indulge in a snooze, so that was them out of the picture for the evening.

  Around their cosy little campfire, Icrick was on the Uíleann pipes, playing a soft tune. Meanwhile, Khrum was knuckling down in his drunken state, trying his damnedest to woo a leprechaun Cailín name of Roisín. “Bit of an aul’ vampire’s head on her,” was how he so delicately put it. “Sure, any port in a shtorm!” He was employing everything from his self-acclaimed ‘famous arsenal;’ from tawdry poetry which sounded more like Limericks that weren’t even funny, just rude, to daring stories from the road, in the hope of making himself sound mighty altogether.

  He even tried referring to his trusty ‘arsenal’ at one stage, only to end up slurring, “Let’s see w-what I’ve got…for ya…here in me aul’ arse.” and the expression on poor Roisín’s face was a far reach from hopeful.

  To make matters even more cringe-worthy was that his breath stank from beer belches and the three or more onion cakes (human-sized) which he’d wolfed down minutes prior. Not to mention all the bread stuck in his teeth. Suffice it to say, it was all going south with Roisín, rather rapidly. Besides, she was already married to his cousin, Khlaun, whom he never really cared for much, for he was always quite good at making a proper twit out of Khrum. He kept at her nonetheless, to no prosperous end. One had to admire his resolve, though.

  You might also be pleased to know that they were paid a visit, that same night, by someone whom they did not expect to meet. Old Percy, of all people. He just happened to be ambling by on one of his late-night shrub-checks, when he heard all the commotion. Deciding to investigate, he rode in on a fat beech, which reminded them greatly of the trees in Girtilboun’s Forest. Yet this one appeared far more content, being one of Percy’s well-tended-to flock.

  “Well blow me over with a feather!” was how he put it. “What are the odds of running into you lot here? And the celebrations have already begun, I see! So…” he said, settling himself down, “where’s me drink?”

  He had already heard the extraordinary news of the Pooka’s end from the Moss People, though he hadn’t heard it all. So Stell gave him a first-hand account of everything over drumsticks and whisky shots. Percy hung off every word, and was virtually acting out the battle scenes, unbeknown to himself, as Stell was telling them. You know him. Quite the storyteller.

  Unwinding up in a cedar tree just shy of the festivities, Redmun was picking away at a handful of sunflower seeds. Ostly and Merkel were fast asleep on his lap. Some might deem it somewhat antisocial, sitting outside the celebrations like this, had they not known the Erethaoí. But this was how he enjoyed his gatherings. Out of habit more than anything. It was a legacy, I suppose, from his days of keeping watch. Had he not done so, he probably would have had an awful time altogether. To no surprise, no such peril ever lurked, making it a splendid party until dawn.

  * * *

  Beneath the noon sun the following day, everything was getting tidied away for William’s send-off. Everyone was so quiet; walking about, heads slumped, not talking, only cleaning. William barely slept, for his most difficult farewells were drawing so painfully near. Saying goodbye felt worse to him than the other dangers of that curious world. Worse than his inner-conflict. Worse than the battle. Worse, even, than Briggun himself. But he’d made his choice.

  He got out of bed and asked Khrum if he wouldn’t mind convening the others in the privacy of the forest’s north end, which Khrum did. After removing his armour, to change back into his old clothes for his journey home, William followed Khrum over. It felt so odd to be wearing his old baggy uniform again. At one time his kilt might’ve felt completely odd, while this uniform felt normal, but now it was the other way around.

  During that stroll—which went by all too quickly, as far as he was concerned—William was giving himself a stern talking to, in an effort to pull himself together. “C’mon now,” he thought, “be a man! Don’t go getting all upset; looking like some amadan. A quick handshake, a quick ‘good luck,’ then let that be it! You’ve held it together this long, surely you can keep it up an hour or so longer!” But he knew as he was saying it, that it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  Already, he was feeling sick with despair. Even then that dull ache was nothing to when he found them waiting amongst the ferns, looking so silent and inconsolable, as beams of jade stole in from the high, leafy canopy. If he didn’t know any better, he might have said that they were each giving themselves the same talking to, for they weren’t speaking to one another when he arrived. They were just wandering about anxiously in that single patch of undergrowth. All of William’s original intentions then flew right out the window.

  Out of his cherished companions, there was Icrick Tum; his dear guide who would have done anything for William, no matter what cost. Khrum; the boisterous one, but with a heart as gentle and as large as any of the rest. Stell Crimpleton; the virtuous, who was more a brother to him than a friend. Crosco; the knight of two halves—the snobbish and the noble—without either of which they would not have proved themselves the one brave individual they turned out to be. Ifcus; the final addition to Crosco’s trio who, despite his struggles, never gave up on himself or his friends. As for Redmun and his adored Wren, they were nowhere around.

  “She went off for a stroll I think, lad,” The Head explained, when he saw William pondering their whereabouts. “She should be back shortly, I expect. No cause for concern. As for Redmun, he was off having a private word with Percy, last I saw him. He was giving him a bundle of something, as far as I know. Who knows what? Probably a bundle of magical pig’s ears or something, knowing him! Haven’t seen him since. Though I can’t imagine him leaving without saying goodbye.”

  William would have preferred everyone to be there. That way he could get it over and done with as swiftly and as painlessly as poss
ible. What else could he do but put their absence down to good reason, while making do with whomever showed.

  When he first went to address them, his voice croaked under the strain. Fighting the tears away was even harder.

  Taking a moment, he gathered himself to say, in the merriest way possible, “Well, looks like this is it for us. We did what we set out to do. The Pooka is gone. You have your home back. And my village should be back to normal by now.”

  Like it carried all the weight of the world inside itself, a tear then forced his head away from any judgment, if ever there was any.

  “Funny thing is,” he continued, whilst almost annoyed at himself for showing his vulnerable side like this, “I never really understood the meaning o’ true friendship until I came here. Back home I…I…knew some people, yeah, but it really is a darker life compared to the one I had here. You might find that hard to believe, but it’s true. People don’t always treat one another the way they should. Not all the time. It’s like, the older you get, the harder it is to get along. People have too much to prove and they’ll try and drag others to the bottom if things don’t go their way. Not like people here. Not like you; who accept folk for who they are and put up with them, no matter what. There are no Drevol Brigguns where I come from, but it’s as if we’re trying our hardest to make up for it in other ways. Ways we learn to live with. We shouldn’t have to, by rights, but we do. And now that I’ve seen what real friendship is like, it upsets me to think I might never see it again. You’ve been a real family to me. And I’ll miss you all, like you wouldn’t believe. But, home is home. And I know that the people back there have it in them to change.”

  Finally understanding that he had no reason to be conscious of his tears, not around them, he lifted his head to find them weeping, too.

  His fur dark with tears, Icrick sniffled, “Lythiann has returned to us again. However, she will never be the same without our William here to share it with us. We shall never forget you, my dear boy. Not while we live and breathe. And may you never forget the magical home feeling you had here, too.”

  “Aye,” Crosco said, with Ifcus by his side, eyes of a cub dismayed. “It won’t be the same without you, lad. Yet whenever the leaves rustle or the birds call, it will be a reminder of the brave, young soldier who gave it all back to us.”

  Then the Elf smiled. “You shall live on throughout time in stories of your own here, William. Stories of how young William Muldoon, a stranger from another kingdom, was suddenly swept from his home to take on a terrible curse. The boy who became the warrior. Songs will surely follow. Never forget us, my friend, for we shan’t forget you.”

  Suddenly, with a rope of gooey snot dangling from his nose to his beard, Khrum bawled, “Whose shoulder am I supposed ta sit on now? Icrick’s? Damn fleas dartin’ about! Ever see the size o’ one o’ those yokes in comparison ta a leprechaun? They’re rat-sized! An’ damn ye too for makin’ me whinge like this. Ye ‘n’ your bloody teary send-offs!”

  Dropping to his knees, with his hands clasped white, he then begged, “Don’t go, boyo! Shtay! We can find some other evil fella’ ta fight. Plenty o’ them around. I knew this one lad, used ta live in a barrel down south, name o’ Crunny Middin. Bit of a weirdo. He used ta shteal women’s shtockin’s off washin’ lines ‘n’ make off with them. Probably shtill at it too, the aul’ pervert. Shniffin’ at them or somethin’! He’d be a decent shtart ta a new adventure. Jusht sayin’.”

  Scooping up the leprechaun, William uttered, “I’m sorry, Khrum, but I can’t. I’d like to stay. You know I would. But Ballycongraggon is where I belong. It’s home. And my mother has already gone through enough with my father passing, without me disappearing, too. You understand where I’m coming from, don’t you? Besides, I’m sure Crunny Middin—or whatever his name is—has grown out o’ robbing dirty knickers by now. I hope so anyways.”

  “Either that or he’s moved on ta long johns!” Khrum joked, but he was still very upset. “Bah…you’re probably right, William lad,” he surrendered, sulking like a child who was too exhausted to sob anymore; sacks dangling under his eyes, and that mucus-green string now touching his brogue. “I undershtand ya all right. Jusht don’t ya go thinkin’ I’m happy about any o’ this, coz I’m not! Shtill, credit where it’s due, you’re some young fella’ so ya are. Full o’ shtrength! An’ a right friend ya are, too. Never was anythin’ such an honour. Never in me life!”

  William’s feelings were more than mutual. And yet, his heart almost cracked like a clay plate too long in an oven when he saw how hurt Khrum actually was. Out of everyone, he was expecting him to be the strongest, only he wasn’t, and the boy ached all the more for it.

  Passing him back to Icrick, William wiped his face, and announced, “If it’s all the same to ye, I might just go for a quick wander. See Lythiann one last time. Would ye mind?”

  “Do whatever you must, William,” said Stell, as the others gathered in. “We shall wait for you by the gate. Take all the time you need.”

  “I won’t be long. Icrick, if you could come get me when everything’s ready?”

  “I surely shall, William,” the Grogoch smiled. “Now, go, do as you must.”

  Further north of their rendezvous was a small, round hill, which William hiked towards. From there he probed the land’s beauty, then on into the sea, endeavouring to soak up as much of it as possible before departing it forever.

  A voice behind him then asked, “Is it time?”

  He didn’t need to look.

  He simple said, “Yes, it is.”

  Joining him, she watched the lands of Lythiann embracing this new era. William, on the other hand, couldn’t help admiring how Wren glowed under the soft golden light of the mild day.

  “It’s so…beautiful, isn’t it though?” she sighed lovingly, taking in the view.

  Savouring the softness of her voice, he said, “Beautiful…” waking her from Lythiann’s spell, to place her under his own.

  That one word could have had a thousand other meanings, but she knew which one he meant.

  Holding his hand in hers and, heedless of how much strength it must’ve taken for her to do so, the girl whispered, “She is waiting for you, William,” with a considerate smile.

  An ache went from the top of his throat right up to the bottom of his heart, as of silk being twisted tighter and tighter. Her face told such a sorrowful tale. And even though her lips smiled, it would not be long before her guard failed, and she let loose her true feelings. In that exact moment, given her gaze, William knew that there was someone out there for everyone. Whether they are right in front of you, or a million miles away, they’re there. It was just a matter of searching for them.

  Finding it harder to repeat herself, she trembled, “She needs you…so.”

  Moving closer, William suddenly found himself asking, “Do you need me?”

  With that, Wren let go completely. She couldn’t help it. William was about to ask again, but she just shoved him back before he could. She had to. For both their sakes.

  “Go on,” she wailed. “Just head off!”

  William didn’t know what to do. He stood confused, wondering what had just happened. Did he do something wrong? Did he not do something? What? All he was certain of was that he couldn’t leave it like that.

  Then she flared her wings out menacingly, and yelled again, “Go, I said! Leave!”

  Her red flesh boiled to the point where her hostility could not be questioned, leaving William to say these last regrettable words, “I’m sorry,” before walking away.

  Every weighty stride was a painful squeeze to his heart. His one last ray of light seemed to just, puff, quench itself into nothingness. But before it could be lost altogether, the dim outline of its ghost returned itself from the dark.

  “William!” she called out.

  She was catching up to him, and for an instant he felt the broken shards rebuilding themselves again.

  “Wren, I—” he went to say.
<
br />   “Close your mouth and listen to me for a second!” she snapped, wanting to get her say in first. “Of course I need you! But I’m just afraid that you need her more, and I do not want to get hurt! I can’t contend with family, nor will I! It’s just not the way it should be done; for you to choose one over the other! Therefore, I have done it for you.”

  What could William say? What could he actually say to that? For she told him that she needed him, alas she cared so much for him that she was willing to give up her love for what he needed most. He did need to find his mother again, if only to see that she was safe. To say how much he missed her. At the same time, he longed to have Wren eternally at his side, as she always had been since they’d met.

  Unpinning the rose from her lapel, she placed it in his hands, closed his fingers around it, and pleaded, “Just promise you won’t forget me?”

  “But—”

  “Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.” she cut in. “Just promise me.”

  With nothing else for it, he said, “I-I promise…”

  Giving him a soft kiss on the lips, she swept back up the hill to where her old dragon friend had since landed and was waiting.

  A power of notions poured through William’s mind as he watched her walking away, and all of them involved calling her back. But they’d all raced by so fast that he didn’t have the chance to snatch one and say it. Instead, he was left watching as she left him forever.

  Tucking in her wings, she sat on her dragon’s shoulders who, with a royal roar, reared before Lythiann with a healthy blaze spouting from his mouth. Jumping into flight, the dragon’s beat gushed over William’s feet and flattened the long grass around him, with the rose hanging loosely from his hand. She hardly even gave him the chance to return a proper kiss. Nor even the proper opportunity to say a proper goodbye. Changing course, Jimzin swooped back over William’s head to find his way northward. William couldn’t believe it. She was actually leaving, and he would never see her face again.