And so she did smile, as she said, “I am Anun.”
William couldn’t quite explain it, but it sounded as though her words were being mimicked by a serene, trailing whisper. It was haunting to him, yet also somewhat pleasing.
Taking his chin in her hand, she moved his face tenderly from left to right; all the while, his eyes were fixed upon hers.
When she was through examining him, William asked, in a peculiar state of delirium, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but...who are you?”
The lady smiled at him with those umber eyes which were only too pleasing to lose yourself in, and she said, “I am Anun. The lady of prosperity and of comfort. I am the protector of the poor and the caretaker of all who are held dear upon the land. I sometimes have the power to foresee matters of importance, and can dispense knowledge of the past to any who require it. I am Anun...the creator of realms...”
“The creator of realms?” William repeated, growing a solemn grin. “You mean like...like a deity or something?!”
“Indeed, one of the lesser immortals,” she replied. “And you, William of the great Muldoon clan, have finally come back to us!”
“Come back?” went he, snapping out of his bewitchment. “I’m not sure I follow you. I’ve never been down here before in my entire life!”
A wave of curiosity brewed again amongst the crowd, only to be quietened by Anun’s palm as she continued to speak.
“Oh, but you have, my dear boy. And long now have we awaited your return to the land of legend. Too long have we tolerated the evil means of the dark one!”
“The dark one?” William asked, still a little bewildered by her last statement.
“Yes,” she continued. “Who was the first being you asked for when you walked through that tunnel? You already knew who or what the other beings were, for you were thinking of their names when you saw them. Yet who was the one your heart most eagerly coveted once you became aware of his absence?”
“...The Pooka?” the lad answered, doubtful of whether he should speak it aloud again or not.
“That is correct, though we refer to this Pooka by a different title,” she replied.
Turning to the crowd below, she raised her arms and spoke aloud, “Drevol Briggun! The dark tyrant who has long cursed our peaceful lands!”
At the utterance of his name, the creatures stirred restlessly, while some of the smaller ones disappeared into little holes wherefrom they peeked out with trembling eyes.
Facing William again, Anun went on, “Although you may not have realised it, William, you knew it in your heart, as an act of protectiveness and consideration for those of us who fear his evil magic, to seek him out as soon as you came through this passage. Your desire for vengeance dies hard, and your will to destroy this creature swells in your gut...as it always has done.”
“B-But I was just curious!” the lad stuttered defensively. “I just wanted to see one! Not seek one out for whatever reason you think I might’ve wanted to! I’m just a boy! Just a silly, young, thirteen-year-old boy who was on his way home from school and ended up falling down some stupid hole! I am not here for any reason! I’m sorry, but I think you’re mistaken! Very mistaken!”
All of this was starting to feel a bit too real for him. He did not wish to be there any longer and, to make matters worse, he became frighteningly aware of how outnumbered he was. Again, the crowd began to murmur and talk amongst each other, when Anun regarded William in all his nervousness.
“You really believe you came here simply out of chance?” she asked softly. “You honestly think that your extensive knowledge of our people is just some coincidence? Come now, I find that hard to believe.”
William’s already shallow sense of comfort was inevitably being overrun by a nerve-jangling terror, ensnaring his composure to the point of arrest.
Casually he backed up a few paces until he felt the wall behind him. He needed to escape. The passage was somewhere around here! he thought. He needed to find it and make a dart for it! But he searched in vain, for when he couldn’t feel the opening by hand, he turned to see that there was no passage. It had completely vanished, like it had swallowed itself up somehow. He glanced left and right to see if he had strayed from it somehow, but he hadn’t moved more than three feet since he’d first entered that cave. As well as that, Icrick had done a runner, too.
“I know that you are the one whom we have so long sought, dear William,” Anun continued. “And I will tell you why...if you will permit me. But first I think you should understand that our time has run short, and to lay such a sudden burden upon you was not what we had first intended. Originally, we had planned on giving you time to adapt to what I must tell you. But now the clocks are against us, and time is no longer our ally. Will you please listen to what I have to say? Then, if you still wish to leave after we have conversed, I cannot stop you.”
She asked this of him in such an endearing way, nor was she purposely wishing to alarm him. She merely desired to confer information, and it was William’s own fault for panicking. But I wouldn’t expect you or I to act any differently.
So, even though he was very uncomfortable and really quite petrified, his curious side had gotten the better of him. He still wanted to know about that curse, above all else. Thus, in slowly dropping his guard, he decided to give Anun her chance.
“O-Okay then...” he answered fretfully. “But you’ll help me get out o’ here, once I’ve heard you out? I mean, that’s the deal...right?”
“Indeed it is.” Anun smiled, and she took William’s hand.
Leading him to the edge of the shelf, she suddenly stepped off onto nothing. Thinking her batty to stray into such a treacherous drop, William gasped with fright, and was on the brink of bounding from her grasp when a step suddenly sprouted out from the wall, just in time to support her. Another grew out after that, and so on, until they reached the bottom. Not at all used to it, William was hopping back ‘n’ forth as he went, wobbling and flapping and trying to keep up.
By then, the celebrations had completely come to an end, and an audience of Dwelvin-Mites had formed a large perimeter around the evergreen as they got ready to listen to Anun. Another hundred or so had since rushed in from a tunnel just off to the right. Clearly they had gotten late word of William’s arrival, and so came flooding in as quickly as they could to see him.
Upon the branches of that great evergreen the garden faeries rested, like lights upon a Christmas tree. Most of the smaller beings were sitting up there with them too; tree-imps and leprechauns, for the most part. They clutched onto the skinny boughs as their free legs dangled from side to side out of sheer eagerness for the discussion to come. One might think to feel quite threatened to be encompassed by such a bunch, but I’m relieved to say that our young William approached the situation with fairly steady nerves. That’s not to say that he didn’t wish that he was at home, curled up in front of the fire with a cold jar of buttermilk and a good book. Unfortunately, that was not the case, so he had to deal with this peculiar situation as best he knew how.
In the centre of the congregation, upon a platform afore the base of the tree, was a stone font stuffed with branches and dead maple leaves.
“So what’s all this about?” the boy asked, in a somewhat neurotic tone. “How come everyone’s watching us?”
“Please, we will leave the questions until later. Also, because much will be brought to hear upon this hour, I bid you...stay focused,” Anun asked of him, waving her hand over the great font, thereby setting it alight with no evident form of kindle.
Suddenly, the cave turned dark and quiet.
Raising her arms, Anun spoke out clearly and mystically, words which would change young William Muldoon’s life forever.
“Countless centuries ago, before it was entitled Hibernia, or the Ireland that you know today, there existed a country which praised the moon, while the lands themselves were green and undisrupted by man or machine. It was known as the Elderland. You may very w
ell insist that the country you know of today is the same as that to which I refer, but I beg to differ...as do all who surround us here today, young William.”
He glanced around to see nodding heads and mumbling agreement.
“We have come to terms that names may change through time, but to us, this magical world will always be kept dear in our hearts as the Elderland, or the true Ireland, as it was made so by great wizards and heroes. It was forged by those who embraced their love for the natural world. Feigned by those who learned to live amongst nature through equality and preservation. Not by those who thrive on greed and corruption. The land you know today is what Ireland has become due to the influences of mankind!
“Let me tell you of this true Ireland and, with God’s blessing, you will be able to understand why you are here with us in this precious hour.”
In that moment, William’s anxiety was diluted by fascination. Abruptly as it was, he couldn’t help but become enthralled in the words of this supposed deity.
The cave darkened even more, and the font shone ever brighter into Anun’s face as her story began.
“Back in those days, the land was far from what you see when you look out of your window nowadays. The hills ran free, the forests grew strong, and the wild was guarded by the constant watch of great, towering mountains. Free throughout, there roamed all that was magical and good. Beings which have now been so long forgotten that they only exist in tales that you humans choose to believe as either false or impossible. Those of whom I speak encircle you at this very moment, my lord William. Other than a lost few, these are all that remain after the great curse of mankind.”
William scanned the wall of surrounding faces, and they all stared back at him with kind, innocent, shy eyes, and simple smiles.
“These creatures were the true rulers of the Elderland. For rule they did not, but dwell in relative peace and understanding they did; without the rules of barter and conduct. But then the men, who differed greatly from the worshipped warriors and champions of old, began thriving on riches and dark arts and, slowly, they fell into a curse which was spawned by their own malicious lust for power, thus giving birth to a new creature. One of their own. One who inherited their lust for pain and hardship. The one whom you have asked after, not so long ago.”
Enthralled by the story, William walked closer to the font and, without realising it, he placed his hand on its warm stone rim. Suddenly a flame shot up from within and blazed high into the air, lighting up the cavern for a brief moment and sending the shadows into hiding.
With fright, he pulled his arm back and observed as the fire began to take shape. The flames burned high and flickered into different shades of blues, reds and yellows, as swirling images started to force their way through.
Analysing the flame, William whispered to himself, “...A Pooka?”
A devilish face took form, materializing through the fire as though he himself were a part of it. Tongues danced hellishly from its ears, and its eyes burned cold-white and dark.
“Yes!” said Anun, under a grim gaze shadow. “A certain form of Pooka. That is what they had created! Through the breeding of their own anger, magic, and greed, they forged a single beast so powerful that even the sorcerers themselves could not tame him! It was named Drevol Briggun...meaning ‘taker of innocence’.”
Once again the creature of flame laid to rest within the burning embers, though the fire continued to dance out images of Anun’s historic tale.
Next emerged a race of creatures, both benign and malevolent, as the chronicle continued to unfold.
“Now, William, there are many different kinds of imp in the world, and all of them come in different forms and styles. I am sure you already know that Pooka are a demon faerie who roam the nightly lands, instigating evil, and are probably the most feared ones of all. Unlike the goblins and ogres of the ancient world, whose darkness was derived from temptation and gluttony, the race of Pooka thrive upon creating pure mayhem, and that alone! And logic shows us that it is virtually impossible to reason with chaos that has never been provoked to begin with. Their sole purpose is to cause harm and misery toward the good people of the world.
“However, this beast was quite different from the rest of his kind. For not only did he possess all the callousness of any normal Pooka, but he was also borne by the coming of a dark art, a new art, known as the Wrythus. You may not have heard of this magic, as it has been long since extinct from your world.”
Contemplating briefly, William replied, “I’ve never heard of it before. Then again, I don’t know that much about wizards at all, so it stands to reason.”
“Not a wizard...a Wrythunn.”
“...A Wrythunn?” asked he, not at all acquainted with the term.
“Yes,” the deity replied. “‘Wrythunn’ is the term given to the practitioner of this particular style of magic and warfare. It was bred unintentionally by the vices of men, and it was also believed that it could not be wielded for peace. Few could dabble successfully in the ancient art. It was simply too powerful. Its complex fusion of good and evil could easily overwhelm the common mind, no matter how just the person’s intentions were in using it...granted, much has evolved since its beginning.”
“Tell me about the beginning,” asked the boy.
Happy to enlighten him, Anun replied, “Let us journey back further again, and I shall explain. In the later years of the Elderland, before the birth of the demon Briggun, there existed two sorcerer brothers; Belenathus and Belenathor.”
Burning loudly, with coiling wisps of red flame, the fire began sprouting the images of two men, performing their story theatrically.
“At that time, the great lust for power had started sweeping throughout the land, though Belenathus was very honourable and did not agree with the selfishness which had overcome the world. Belenathor, the eldest and wisest of the two, felt differently. He then corrupted his brother into conceiving a new magic. He told Belenathus that this new sorcery would return the world to the way it used to be, by vanquishing all desires for domination and materialism. But what he actually intended to do was hoodwink Belenathus into channelling his very energy into Belenathor himself, leaving the younger brother powerless and the elder brother twice the magician he was before. This was his ultimate goal; to become all powerful and to govern the world at his feet!
“Unfortunately for Belenathor, it all went horribly wrong! For Belenathus was not rid of his power, nor did Belenathor become the mighty magician he had so hoped to be. Instead, a terrible miscalculation occurred, and during the ceremony of the spell, it all fell apart. The ground quaked. An immense explosion covered the land for days in a dark, cyan cloud. Alas, a newfound power was brought upon them. This sorcery became known as ‘The Wrythus’ and, from within, that creature was born. This was something that neither brother knew of until it was too late. Apart from them obtaining the new and unfathomable way of the Wrythunn, they had also given birth to a different class of Pooka, a lone anomaly of its kind. It was a creature which was naturally competent in the art of the Wrythus. ‘Twas he...Drevol Briggun! Alongside his birth, the Pooka had involuntarily resurrected all sorts of dark creatures. Creatures long forgotten by our people. What a disaster it was.
“A powerful magus Briggun turned out to be, with the ability to conjure terrible spells and inflict horrible curses! No Pooka before him had ever known such force! From birth, the power had manifested itself inside of him in the form of a mighty jewel, known in our lore as the Rock of Krimmìn. This precious stone replaced what could only have once been a heart of rotting meat. By its power, he could dominate all who chose to oppose him, warrior and wizard alike. By the halo of the burning lunar eclipse—a phenomenon which could only be predicted by some—the stone acted as a beacon, coaxing all of those evil creatures to do its will. This is exactly what happened not too long after the Pooka came into being.
“The eclipse arrived, and armies of villainous creatures: hobgoblins and demons, gremlins and ho
unds, all of whom he had since resurrected, came and fought for Drevol, aiding him in taking the land as his own. The Elderland had never seen such destruction. It was total genocide!”
Within the font, from a bird’s-eye view, vast legions of blazing soldiers marched. From different corners of the land, they all met up to merge into one monumental battalion.
“The two brothers were forced to flee from this abomination of theirs, along with everyone else in the Elderland, seeking exile wherever we could find it. They had not even the time to study the Wrythus art which they had fabricated, to try and find some resolution to the problem they had caused. Alas, time faded to history and, one by one, both mankind and our kind were either destroyed by Drevol, or forced to find refuge.
“I gathered whom I could—the rarest of the species—for fear of extinction. And for many years thereafter, this band of ours dwelt secretly within the deep canyons of Lòr in the east of the Elderland, where we stayed for centuries.
“Much time went by and, in the west, the two magicians struggled to fathom their art...but to little success. It was too potent. Too complicated.
“Drevol and his army got to Belenathor first. He did not stand a chance against the Pooka! Then he came for Belenathus. This brother, you should know, had secretly taken reside with a woman named Clara, deep below the roots of a valley mountain.”
“Clara?” William asked, drawn ever deeper into the legend. “Was she a friend of Belenathus’ or...?”
“No, she was a stranger to him,” Anun answered. “You see, after Drevol’s first rampage, when the country was distraught, Clara gave shelter to Belenathus, and she aided him with his wounds. Immediately he fell in love with her, although he decided to keep his past a secret...for obvious reasons. They hid for some months in those caves, during which time, the woman was with child. Chance, unfortunately, led Drevol to their lair. So, after having given birth to the newborn, the parents left the child in hiding while they attempted to lure their enemy away from him. The Pooka attacked, killing both Belenathus and his love...yet their child went unnoticed!”
The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles Page 5