The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

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The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles Page 7

by Brian G. Burke


  The lowly little faerie looked scared to death, and again she started weeping. William didn’t know what to do, for he badly needed to get home, yet he couldn’t very well leave the faerie alone, either.

  “Will he be out looking for you? I mean...he’ll obviously notice you gone, yes?” he asked.

  “Oh, y-y-yes!” answered Picksy. “I am sure he is out l-looking for m-m-me!”

  “Well, that does it then.” The lad smiled, trying to sound optimistic for Picksy’s sake. “I’ll help you find him.”

  “Oh, w-w-would you?” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “That would b-be wonderful!”

  William was more than happy to help and, within those first two minutes of meeting, Picksy had already managed to burrow her way deep into his heart.

  “Right! Let’s go!” said he, lifting Picksy carefully into his hands, and off he marched down the road.

  They scavenged up through the streets, down through the streets, in by the side roads, and down along alleyways. He even made hunt amongst the bins and gutters, around gardens, and behind walls; still there was no sign of her faerie father. Around, and ‘round, and ‘round, they went, until it felt like they’d checked everyplace twice. If William didn’t know any better, he might’ve said that they were at it for hours.

  Picksy called out as loud as she could in her tiny faerie voice and William called out, too, though he had to call Picksy’s father by his first name, Fibbùn. To be honest, he felt like a proper twit in doing so. It was such an obscure thing to be yelling out, he felt. Having said that, he couldn’t very well walk around calling out, “Father, Father!” either, could he? And “Mr. Whispin” would have been a title unheard of amongst the Celtic faerie folk, which William knew well enough from the stories he’d read in the past.

  While they sifted through the city, William came to notice that the streets weren’t as uninhabited as he’d once presumed. There were figures about. Quite a few, in fact, draped heavily in patched woollen garments. They were well stowed away in dark corners and in blind nooks throughout the town. Occasionally, he’d get startled by a shrouded cough or a distant sneeze. Eventually he got used to it, albeit it all seemed very sickly and weak to his ears. Every now and again, he would spot an individual staggering lamely across some random street, only to disappear into the shadows before he could fully understand them. The more he kept his eye out, the more of those beings he could see. Quiet bouts of weeping roused from unseen corners, whilst a gradual unveiling of misery seeped into the mood of that otherwise magnificent city.

  “What is this place?” William found himself whispering, though not expecting Picksy to hear.

  “Have you not been t-to this part b-b-before? This is where m-most of us l-l-live,” replied the faerie, believing William to be one of her own. “Although, I’m n-n-not all that surprised. The G-G-Grollo is a b-b-big place! Goes on and on so it d-d-does!”

  William then decided to play along with the faerie. He let on like he was a Dwelvin-Mite himself. Besides, he really didn’t want to alarm the poor little thing by telling her that he was an outsider.

  “No, this is my first time in these parts,” he said, somewhat artificially. “What’s wrong with everybody? They look sick.”

  “Yes, they a-a-are,” stuttered the faerie. “The Grollo Halls have indeed p-p-protected us Dwelvin-Mites, but the darkness has only b-b-brought illness and sadness t-t-to our kind. Have you n-not felt it? The d-d-depression?”

  Incapable of denying his sense of pity, William replied, “No. No, I haven’t.”

  “That is a g-g-good thing!” Picksy replied. “Not everybody has f-f-felt it yet...thankfully. My father s-s-said that we were not b-b-born to live in shadow. He s-s-said that we are c-c-creatures of the light, and slowly the darkness c-c-consumes us. I fear that, if we do not get back to L-L-Lythiann soon, it will s-s-seal our fate...and one by one we will d-d-die here in the G-G-G-Grollo. Taken by the S-S-S-Sadness. That is w-w-what we call it.”

  All the while, William kept quiet, allowing Picksy to continue with her tale.

  “As I s-s-said before, I was n-n-not always blind,” she explained. “There once w-w-was a time when I could see! Yet t-t-time down here has stolen it from me. Nor did I always have this s-s-stammer, or these undersized w-w-wings. That is why the N-Newcomer is here. To h-h-help us. Oh, I d-do hope he helps us!

  “My father t-t-told me about him for the first t-t-time only last n-n-night. He did not want to give m-m-me false hope had the Newcomer r-r-refused us, so he left it until the l-l-last minute to tell me a-a-about him. I d-d-do not even know his real n-n-name. We stayed up all night talking about his amazing a-a-abilities, and it slipped m-m-my mind to ask. So silly. Do you know his n-n-name, William?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t,” the lad replied, ruefully maintaining his act.

  “That is o-o-okay. It does n-n-not matter,” said the faerie, getting all excited she went on. “Oh, I just know he will h-h-help us. I know h-h-he will.”

  She was so full of hope when she spoke of this Newcomer that she beamed out a thrilled little giggle to herself. William, of course, smiled with her, though he felt the guilt skewering within him. And as he dwelt upon how ill these people actually were, an inner disgust began battling with his conscience.

  “You know what I think?” he said, trying his best to sound like a Dwelvin-Mite, but also en route to gaining some answers.

  “What’s that?” asked Picksy.

  “We should go back out to Lythiann! Back to the light! Then if things get hairy, we can always run back down here...secretly like. And even then we’ll have gotten out into the open for at least a while, and that alone might do us the world o’ good!”

  “B-But, what about the s-s-spell?” asked Picksy, intrigued by his plan.

  “Spell?”

  “Y-Y-You really d-d-don’t know much about your own home, d-d-do you?” giggled the faerie, presuming William to be intentionally acting silly to cheer her up.

  “Um...remind me.” He smiled, and she could hear it in his voice.

  “The p-p-protective spell of the witches. ‘Once you l-l-leave you cannot re-enter.’ That spell,” she replied. That alone said enough for William to brood over, and not ask any more about it for the time being.

  Suddenly they heard a feeble call on the air, and it was traced by a hacking cough.

  “Picksy! Picksy! Where are you?! Cough-Cough!” he yelled, and how poorly it sounded.

  “It is m-m-my father!” chirped the smiling the faerie, and off they went on the trail of Fibbùn’s voice.

  They traced his echo through a good many streets before they eventually found him. After passing a junction, by a small bridge, William turned a corner and noticed a small, elderly faerie wearing thick crescent glasses, and he was crouching over his walking stick as he hobbled up the pathway by foot.

  He was very old, and bald, with a wagging white beard, and he was almost entirely crippled, poor fellow. Which is more than I can say for his eyesight, which wasn’t very good at all. His wings were majestically large, yet they’d seized up and could barely flap at all. Then, in his stride, he could step but a whisker’s width at a time. He was yet another deprived soul which William felt for, seeing him worried sick as he staggered around those gargantuan streets in search of his lost daughter.

  “Picksy!” he called again.

  Joyously, the young faerie cried, “Father!” and let her tiny wings do their best in carrying her to the ground, where she gave Fibbùn a tender, loving hug.

  “Where did you get to?” he exclaimed, but how relieved he was. “I was worried sick. Cough-Cough!”

  “I am s-s-sorry, Father. We got s-s-separated when the c-crowd rushed to see the N-Newcomer,” Picksy explained.

  “Oh, but you’re safe now, so I suppose there’s no harm done,” he said, rubbing her little round head.

  Sadly, she then asked, “It is a pity we m-m-missed him though, Father.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, peta
l. And I know how much you were looking forward to seeing him, too. But maybe you will get a chance to spot him later, if he’s not too busy. Cough-Cough! You might even get to wave or say hello even...if you’re lucky.”

  “Yes, we m-m-may yet see him...hopefully. Oh! I would l-l-like you to meet s-s-somebody. This is William. He helped me f-f-find you.”

  Fixing his specs, Fibbùn gazed up and, through those eye-muddling lenses of his, he saw William’s deformedly bulbous head smiling down upon him. After a moment, Fibbùn finally understood what he was looking at, and his jaw almost hit the ground in shock.

  “Oh! Oh! Oh! Dear me!” he babbled, not knowing what to do with his hands.

  With nothing else for it, he bent down on one knee, almost cracking his back in the process, but he didn’t care about that. Young William, on the other hand, didn’t know what to do, being just as nervous, if not more.

  “Father! What is the m-matter?” Picksy panicked.

  “It is he!” Fibbùn whispered loudly. “It is the Newcomer himself.”

  Well. Picksy keeled backwards like a rigid toothpick when she heard this. Luckily, William came to her rescue before she could knock her head off the hard pavement.

  Catching her in her fall, he implored, “No, no, please! You don’t have to be like this.”

  Hearing his voice, Picksy awoke from her spill only to find herself lying in William’s big palm.

  “Oh, ma’l-l-lord!” she said, trying to clamber out. “I do apologize! I d-d-did not know!”

  “You don’t have to apologize...honestly! It’s all right.” William chuckled fondly. “I should be apologising to you for not telling you who I was. Only I didn’t want to makes things weird.”

  “You do n-n-not have to explain yourself to the likes of m-m-m-me,” Picksy grovelled, as she too got down on her knees. “We a-a-are your humble s-s-servants, ma’lord.”

  “Please, you don’t have to bow,” the lad persisted.

  Nevertheless, the two faeries bowed before him anyway, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Once he’d finally convinced them to stop adulating, he was going to ask them how to get out of there once and for all. But something strange happened to him then. His words were restrained.

  He glanced at Picksy in all of her tribulations, then he considered Fibbùn, and all of the other unfortunates of that city, for that matter. This was no way for somebody to live, down there in the depths of blackness. Especially for the likes of Picksy and Fibbùn, who were kind and pleasant, and altogether harmless.

  So, it came to this. William promised himself that he would find a way out...later. Right now, he was compelled to go back and see Anun.

  Seeing as he had no idea as to where he was, or how to even find Anun again, Fibbùn accepted it as a great privilege to guide William back to the Grollo Halls. It took quite a bit of time, with Fibbùn being an invalid faerie who wouldn’t hear of being carried, and you can be sure that the lad offered to do so insistently, but to no avail.

  After a short while, they made it far enough for Fibbùn to direct him the rest of the way by mouth.

  “Just beyond that corner there, ma’lord. That’ll take you back to the Grollo,” he explained.

  Sure enough, just beyond a nearby bend there was a ruby-red glow pulsating from that same broad tunnel mouth.

  “I hope I can meet you again before I leave,” William said to the faeries.

  “Oh, me too! It was s-s-such an honour, ma’lord! It w-w-was such an honour!” Picksy replied, as she stood hand in hand with her father.

  “It was an honour to meet you, too,” the boy said, and taking a knee before the faeries, he added, “But will you do me one favour, though?”

  “Anything you wish, ma’lord,” Fibbùn replied, and Picksy lowered her head again.

  “My friends call me William...” The lad smiled. “...Just call me William.”

  Slowly Picksy lifted her head and, for a brief moment, it was as though she was staring directly into his eyes.

  “F-Friend?...” she asked timidly.

  “Friend.” William nodded happily.

  Then off he strolled as the two faeries could do little else but embrace his gratuitous compassion, and moreover...his true humbleness.

  He traipsed through that stifling tunnel once again, with taller strides and a flair of fearlessness in his eye, until he stepped out into the Grollo Hall with a far bolder presence than before. Still everyone was in there, all cheerless with burden, and Anun was sitting beside the font, worrying about what would come of it all. Momentarily, William waited by the tunnel, until she became aware of his presence.

  She was truly relieved to see that he had not left. Suddenly William stepped forth and said, “When you said, ‘all that I love has fallen under this curse,’ does that mean all o’ my friends...as well as my ma?”

  “I am sorry...but yes,” Anun answered with a trailing whisper, standing. “Everyone you hold dear in your home village has to suffer the burden of this spell.”

  “And I can take your word for this, can I...that it’s all true? Everything I’ve seen? Everything I’ve heard?” he asked.

  “I would never lie to you,” she replied, and how honestly her eyes spoke. “But what you saw need not remain so. For you can save them all, William...and only you!”

  The brave young lad dropped his stare in thought and Anun halted her words, folding her arms in her cuffs. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Nobody dared even blink.

  “What exactly would I have to do?” he asked, and heeding those words, the cave echoed with excited murmurs.

  Anun smiled, with a sparkle in her eye and said, “First you must understand, young William, that we cannot risk open war. Indeed, Lythiann still remains in her beauty to this very day, for I do not think the dark one has any particular reason to demolish it. However, there is a chance that he will ruin our land in spite, if he foresees any attack. He will raze Lythiann to rubble in battle if he must. Then the last five hundred years of preservation through submission will have all been in vain for us. He does not know when Mysun’s return will be exactly, but he knows of it nonetheless. So we must be careful, and use this to our advantage. It must be an assassination, William. He must not know you are coming. Otherwise an attack could hit and spell disaster for us all.”

  “And how exactly is Mysun’s transformation supposed to come about?” the lad asked, hardly believing he would ever have to utter such a question.

  “There is a certain way for this wakening to take place. Along your journey you will find a blade; an enchanted sword which is indestructible by man or magic. It is so fine, that its blade could effortlessly sweep through almost anything. When it is held in your hand, it is said that you will be given the means to return to your true paladin self. But again, just finding it is not that simple.”

  “It never sounded simple in the first place!” he said with a sour smirk. “Why should this be any different?”

  Sensing his agitation, Anun said with a note of pity, “All of this must be difficult for you, I know—”

  “I’ll be all right. Sorry,” the lad put in, regretting his sore and rather boorish remark. “So, why will it be so hard for me to get the sword then?”

  Even though feeling rather sympathetic towards William’s obvious upset, Anun continued with her story.

  “When the swallows were returning from the land of Pherenstead with tidings of Mysun’s return, they were ambushed by the dark crows of the enemy. Fierce, immortal creatures who live as shadows of their former being, with eyes that burn as dark as red flame. For days they chased them, through the deepest caverns of the world. Constantly at their tails! Then one of the swallows was captured, and she let go the secret of Mysun and his sword. Immediately the news was reported back to the dark one.

  “With knowledge of our hero’s return, the enemy found Thérn, the sword of Mysun. It had been forsaken within the canyons whence we fled, lost in the turmoil. Alas, with the sword now in Drevol’
s grasp, he would do what he could to prevent it from returning to the hand of his adversary. Unable to destroy it, he stowed the weapon somewhere on Lythiann, and left it guarded by terrifying things. It is there, in the solitary stronghold known as the Tower of Thérn.”

  The creatures shivered to themselves, along with anxious murmurs which swelled before fading back into the nothing.

  “To find this blade will be a journey of considerable peril, I will not deny that. Yet it could also be a venture of vast revelation. How you choose to see it is entirely up to you. Once you depart the Grollo—and when you only have yourself for companionship—your will to choose will be the most crucial part of your survival. Taken for granted as free-will usually is, William, one wrong decision on this road can still lead you into unspeakable consequences. Hence, you must learn to see the good in all situations; only through this shall you find courage enough to face things which have not yet come to pass. Heed what I tell you in this hour, William, for it is of the highest importance. So, now that you are aware of every detail, we need to know if you will still help us. You are our last hope...and we are unable to run anymore.”

  Glancing at the crowd around him, William indeed saw the countenances of worn hopes; tired faces. However, they were still able to sustain a quality of sanguinity despite how unforgiving those dark times may have been towards them.

  William tried to understand it all, but he was far too perplexed to truly comprehend what was happening. Dark demons, curses, alternate personalities within himself, and magical swords were too much for him to cope with all in one go.

  Just then, a slight spark of courage suddenly jumped within his heart, leading him in his best effort to show no fear. How could he, when standing before him were so many blameless creatures? They were placing all of their hopes upon his shoulders. And what of the lives of those whom he cared so deeply for back home? Thus, as difficult as it was to utter, he didn’t wish to disappoint.

 

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