The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

by Brian G. Burke

  “The eclipse?” said William. “But I thought it only lured evil creatures?”

  “It does! But Drevol had previously corrupted the other Glogs with empty promises. The eclipse merely completed the transformation. When I saw what was going on, I burrowed myself as fast and as far away as possible! Oh bless, I was lucky to escape! Very lucky indeed! The hooligans. Demented troublemakers! Chased me for miles, they did. Miles and days. But I soon lost them, somewhere ‘round N`raìla, I think? By the Ivy Path...near Crystal Falls. It was around there that Anun called to me. I heard her whisper through the air, and it led me here. Took me under her wing, she did. She’s a lovely lady, I must say. Most enchanting.”

  “N`raìla?” asked William. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard o’ that place before. It’s nowhere near Ballycongraggon anyway...is it?”

  “Oh, no!” Glorgan laughed. “N`raìla is just south of the old canyons, on the borders of Drùschland. It is located near the far eastern region of Lythiann, named Shillìg Bèg...where he lives now. Time has led that place to darkness, it has. Always cold, gloomy, and downright miserable. It would set a chill to your very bones, I’m guessing...seeing as I don’t have any bones, I mean.

  “Originally us burrowers came from far off in the north of Lythiann; living in caves and mountains, and all kinds of rocky places. I was the first of my kind, believe it or not. Their jolly patriarch. Oh, how I miss them sometimes...the way they were, I mean. Oh yes, we were a friendly bunch until he came along.”

  William could sense the sadness from within the Glog’s hollow well-being. He could tell that there was a loneliness to this creature, which reminded William of his own life after his father had died. An empathic pity instantly befell him, whereas any fears which may have lingered from his recent dream otherwise dwindled to this newfound sympathy.

  “We can travel ‘round fast, you see!” the Glog continued, once again showing a spirited smile. “Very fast when it needs be. Stone is our home, and while it exists, we can go anyplace that it goes. Anyplace at all. Even the molten places of the world, if it needs be.”

  Putting his hand out to touch the face, William asked, “So, you’re not always stuck in the wall then?”

  “Why no, of course not! Now isn’t that just a silly thought! We can come and go freely, whenever we please. But we do feel more comfortable in stony places. I suppose it would be like you humans and water. Ye can swim whenever ye wish, but I wouldn’t expect you to spend all day every day in the sea or lake, or what have you. Oh no, we don’t have to stay in the walls at all! Just stand back there a biteen and I’ll show you.”

  “Okay,” said William, stepping curiously aside.

  “Right, here we go then,” said Glorgan. “One...two...three.”

  With one giant thrust, he leapt out from the wall and landed with a deafening thump, almost rattling the entire room. William couldn’t even being to imagine such a creature before this encounter. Come to think of it, former to this very meeting, he had neither read nor heard of a Glog before, so it was even more of a delight to happen upon this new species of mythical beast now.

  Glorgan was a magnificent being, roughly six feet in height and organically formed of stone, muck, and moss. He had short, stocky legs and thick, brawny shoulders with tremendously long arms like an ape. Along his ribs were even more limbs, three to each side; though they were short and emaciated, similar to spider legs, always kicking and clicking. These appendages must have, in some way, been employed for his burrowing. His head was no bigger than a melon, and he had four long fingers on each hand which looked extremely cumbersome to deal with. His face was still as ill-favoured as ever. Nonetheless, it was more so his gentle personality which gave him his delectable presence.

  “Oh!” groaned Glorgan, with a cracking stretch. “Now that’s much better. It doesn’t do us any harm to come out into the open every once in a while. Loosen up the ol’ limbs and that. So, how are you finding your stay in the Grollo? It’s cosy, don’t you find?”

  “It’s okay, I suppose...”

  “I trust you slept well?” asked the Glog.

  “It was grand, thanks.” said the lad, refraining from going into detail about his dream. “By the way, what time is it? How long have I been asleep?”

  Disregarding his question, Glorgan replied, “Brrr, it is nippy in here,” and approaching the hearth, he poked at the embers with his stony finger until they sparked and flared again.

  Curious of why the Glog didn’t answer the first time, the boy asked again, “Um...how long have I been asleep?”

  Holding his back to William, Glorgan paused, saying absolutely nothing.

  “...Well?” the boy smiled, though sensing something was amiss.

  “You have been asleep for exactly nine days,” Glorgan eventually answered. “Time works differently down here and, well, you’ll need your strength for what lies ahead, young William. You really did need the rest.”

  “Nine days?” The boy gasped. “You have to be joking with me! I need to get all this sorted, and here I am standing around, sleeping.”

  The Glog took settle upon the edge of the bed, with the frame almost giving way under his unwieldy poundage. Meanwhile, the agitated boy grabbed his clothes, and was in such a fluster that he was putting his leg into his sleeve and his arm into his leggings.

  “I was afraid you’d act like this,” sighed Glorgan. “You have to calm yourself, William. You should know that time doesn’t work the same down here as it does on your land...if that is indeed what you are worried about. If my calculations are correct, then nine days would be the equivalent to...hmmm...let’s see...about two minutes and fifteen seconds by your clock...give or take a second or two...”

  “Well, how can I be so sure what the real time is? What if my mother is stuck up there under that stupid spell and I’m down here mucking about?” William snapped, all in a panic, with his shoes on the wrong feet and his shirt on backwards. “Who knows what could be happening up there in the meantime. The village could be getting ransacked for all I know.”

  Swamped by his ill-temper, he just let all of his aggression spill out; granted, it could very well have been nine days overdue.

  “How can I be sure what the hell is going on here?” he yelled, traipsing about the room. “I can’t be sure about anything, can I? Weird old grannies chasing after me in the woods...hairy Dwarves walking me down tunnels...Pookas...wall monsters...green men eating my stuff...”

  “Wall monsters?” barked Glorgan, standing stiff with insult. “Well! I never heard the likes! I’ve tried nothing else but to be nice to you, and this is what you say...wall monster? Thank you so very much! Just so you know, young man, it has been roughly two minutes by your clock...give or take a second or two, because I...don’t...lie! And if you don’t even have the slightest bit of trust in me, or anyone else down here, then you wouldn’t have let the Sandman near you, would you, hmmm? Wall monster indeed.”

  Searching around for the belongings that Khrum had flung from his bag, William argued, “Sandman?! What are you blabbering on about?”

  “Yes, the Sandman,” Glorgan stated. “The one who put you to sleep...the Farcodalé. You trusted Anun when she asked for your blessing there, so the least you could do is show me the same courtesy. I’ve been nothing but friendly, so humph!”

  Done with this debate, the Glog swung about, cocked his chin into the air and folded his arms high and tensely.

  Ruefully aware of his rather harsh outburst, William stopped what he was doing. He knew, after all, that Glorgan had a point. William did trust the lady, for whatever unknown reason. He trusted the Glog too, no matter the warnings which may have been in his logical mind. I mean, honestly, there was nothing logical about what had been happening to him up to this point, not by the average person’s expectations at least. Any being which William had encountered so far seemed so genuine (save for the annoying leprechaun thing, of course), so why should Glorgan be any different?

  Stepping
up to the Glog with his head down and his arms dangling loosely inside his backward sleeves, William uttered, “I’m sorry. Maybe you’re right, Glorgan. But you have to understand just how strange all this is to me. I mean...I’m not even sure why I’m here!”

  Sitting upon the bed with his head drooped, William’s eyes began to bulge and his throat started to swell.

  “I just miss my ma...” he said.

  Glorgan, still poised rigid, turned his eyes to shame. He didn’t even stop to understand what it must’ve felt like to be William in that moment; being parted from his mother and such. The mournful guilt twisted every pebble in his stony heart. Turning to the boy, he sat down gently beside him and put his heavy arm carefully around his shoulder.

  “I am sorry, William. I shouldn’t have gone off like that either,” he said caringly. “I know this must be difficult for you...let alone odd. Being pulled out from your home and all.

  “You know, I managed to stick my head up on your world once or twice, and it is so much different to ours. It’s all humans! No tales-folk such as ourselves. Ye have all seemed to have forgotten about us...”

  Glorgan said this, I suppose, in an attempt to show William that the Dwelvin-Mites shared, with him, a common grief after abandoning their home and loved ones too, when Drevol first rose to power. Yet William kept his head hopelessly hung, with the Glog’s story not making any noticeable impression.

  “Still...it can’t be easy for you,” Glorgan uttered sadly. “I’m sorry for snapping.”

  Light then retreated to the coming of darkness as the hearth burned down to its embers.

  Suddenly, a horn sounded in the distance and, at that noise, William lifted his head and asked, “Why has it gotten so dark?”

  Gently, the Glog answered, “Well...it’s almost time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “Why, it’s time for the gathering,” the creature replied. “The final talk that Anun wishes to have with you. But first you must dress...and I have just the thing!”

  “Can I not just wear my own clothes?” William sighed, just then noticing how foolish he looked in his twisted uniform.

  “No, no. You will need those garbs again later. I was ordered to give you these.”

  Plodding over to the wall, Glorgan sank his stony arms deep into the rock like it was soft mud and pulled out a brown paper parcel tied with hairy twine.

  “Here you are!” he said, turning his back to William. “Put these on. Hurry along now! I won’t look.”

  Opening up the package, William looked inside and found some clean underwear, a brown tartan kilt with sash, a pair of bear hide boots, a white tunic, tough leather vambraces, leather gauntlets, and a thick calfskin pauldron, which looked to fit comfortably over the right shoulder.

  “What’s this stuff?!” William asked with a crumpled nose. “A kilt?! You can’t be serious? I’m not even Scottish.”

  “Well, you’ll have to wear these clothes if you want to fit in,” said Glorgan. “If any enemies saw you in your own outlandish garments, who knows what sort of devious curiosities it would arouse amongst them! A scent which could lead them to places where you would not wish them to go, William. For your protection, and for that of your home, you should really wear these. Though I quite agree...the dress is a bit much. But it’s all that we could find in your size, and nothing can be done about that now. Come along. Get a move on, if you don’t mind. We’re late enough as it is.”

  With a fed-up look on his face, William stepped behind the chest of drawers and put on his new clothes.

  At first, he wasn’t entirely sure about how to fasten the armoured items, but he quickly figured it out after some trial and error.

  “Are you nearly ready?” asked Glorgan.

  “Yes!” groaned William, grabbing his old rucksack and pulling it over his shoulder.

  He liked having his knapsack with him. He hardly went anywhere without it and no Glog, deity, Grogoch, or bothersome little leprechaun could convince him otherwise.

  “All done,” he said.

  “Right you are,” said Glorgan, turning to see the lad in his new attire. “My, my! Don’t you look strapping in your new garments! Very bold indeed.”

  And William did look bold, and strapping, and adventurous...all at once. Just like someone from one of his stories. He feared the kilt might make him look a bit of a girl. But that was not the case whatsoever; his whole attire was grubby and slightly tattered, with a musty odour, such as what a boy’s medieval garbs should truly be like.

  Once he was done admiring the lad, Glorgan fell into a sudden pause.

  “What’s wrong? Are you all right?” William asked charily, for fear of even more shocking surprises.

  “Oh yes, I’m fine! But I was just thinking,” said the Glog, who began speaking with his fingers, as if figuring out a tricky equation. “to get to where we need to go, we could either go out that small door there, walk for about two miles down a dreadfully boring bridge, and then climb down a really long length of rope. Or we could just take...the other way! What do you think?”

  The Glog smiled and glared at William with anticipation. The lad wasn’t quite sure how, but he had an inkling that the Glog was suggesting a more fun and adventurous route. So, throwing all caution to the wind, he concurred.

  Shaking his fists with delight, Glorgan rushed over to the wall and sank his hand into the rock again, only this time he displayed a small lump of stone. It was egg-shaped, in its own rough, stony way, and it was about as big as an egg, too.

  “Here, once you take this in your hand and say what I tell you to say, then you will be able to travel alongside me through the walls...like one of us! Are you sure you’d be up for it though? I don’t want to put any pressure on you, mind,” Glorgan asked.

  Excited by this, William chuckled, which was quite a nice surprise considering how glum he’d felt but a moment ago. His troubles were still far from forgotten; however, such an opportunity seemed far too scarce to pass up.

  “Sure, let’s give it a go!” he said, taking the stone in his hands. “What do I have to say?”

  “Oh, joy!” Glorgan laughed. “Nobody will ever do this with me. They’re all afraid of getting lost. But I won’t let that happen...not me! Oh, it’ll be like I’m at home again with my friends! Just don’t say anything to Anun about this, or she’ll cast a spell on me and drop me into the mines for chipping.”

  Clearly, Anun would never do such a thing, but she did frown upon carelessness, regardless of whether it was for pleasure or not.

  In any event, William cupped the rock in both hands, and Glorgan continued.

  “Okay, now repeat after me: Rock, stone, flesh and bone, the Glogish way I wish to roam,” he rhymed, excited as could be.

  Clearing his throat, William fixed his stance, closed his eyes, and uttered, “Rock, stone, flesh and bone, the Glogish way I wish to roam.”

  Nothing happened at first. William even had a quick peek through one eye, to find that everything was just as it was. Just then, the stone began to shake in his hand. It began to rattle rather violently, in fact. All of a sudden there was a snap and a crack, when, from out of the rock, there popped a brown baby chick, completely wrought from stone like Glorgan.

  “What the—” William started, but before he could finish his words, the chick let out a twitter and pecked him once on each palm. “Ouch! You little...”

  With that, he dropped the stone eggshell, and the little bird fluttered back inside the safety of the walls.

  Together with the atypical sensation of pins and needles, he felt his hands becoming very weighty and dry. Before he knew it, they were turning a heavy shade of granite brown, all misshapen and sparkly, and it began inching its way slowly up along his arms. Stopping at his shoulders, it crawled down along his body, then through his legs, and finally up along his face. With a thump, his knuckles hit the ground like sledgehammers. The transformation was complete.

  “Ho-ho! You would make a fine Glog in
deed.” Glorgan laughed. “Dear me! You should have a look at yourself.”

  William found it fairly testing to move at first. He couldn’t even talk. Side-to-side he swayed, forever trying to hold up his weight. It was so unyielding that he almost tumbled backwards a few times. But he adjusted.

  “Where can I look at myself?” he asked in a slow, droll voice, which sounded nothing like his own.

  “Look into the basin over there, that should do the trick!” smiled Glorgan.

  And so, heaving up his knuckles, William plodded over to the basin like an ape, where he found himself lingering.

  He was quiet at first glance, when suddenly he began to chuckle, harder and harder, until he was guffawing like drumming thunder, causing sheets of dust to loosen upon the grotto walls. He looked just like Glorgan, albeit he could still recognise his true self through mannerisms and his eye colour.

  “This is amazing! It seems impossible, but it’s still amazing! If only old Blackhead could see me now. He’d run for the hills. Him and that stupid bloody pencil o’ his! Now, how do I follow you, Glorgan? Is it difficult?”

  “No, it’s not difficult at all! You’ll know exactly what to do once you step inside the wall,” said Glorgan, placing one foot inside the rock, making way for the lad.

  “All right, just don’t let me do anything stupid. I don’t want to get lost.”

  “Of course! You can count on me, William. I shan’t see you wrong.”

  Employing all of his might, William hoisted his leg into the wall. Inside was quite a pleasant sensation, almost feeling like fine sand; warm to touch, and unusually soft. He then sank his arms in, after which his head followed and finally his other leg, until he was completely stuffed inside, where it was totally dark.

  For a time he couldn’t hear anything, until eventually, like listening to a rap of muffled thunder from beneath the deepest of tides, there came the rummaging of stone up ahead.