The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

by Brian G. Burke

  “You might want to open your eyes,” uttered a happy voice. “It’s quite safe! Take a deep breath, too, while you’re at it...there’s no need to worry. You’ve temporarily got Glogish blood in you now, so stone is your home, remember?”

  Doubtful of inhaling oxygen in such a dusty place, young William couldn’t help but dawdle. It took a couple of moments before he eventually came around. But then, with a tremendous effort, he took in one massive breath, and as he did it, he opened his eyes as wide as they could go.

  What an unusual sensation it was! He felt to be puffing in great streams of dust, but it didn’t irritate or tickle his chest in any way. He was breathing just fine...better than normal, as it happens, for his innards felt somewhat vitalized and more vigorous due to his Glogish transformation.

  Just up ahead of him, he could see Glorgan gazing back with a mighty grin. Both of them were laying lengthways, and were ever so tightly cocooned by solid rock, whereas the shell itself shifted like jelly in whichever manner they so wished to move.

  Ready for off, Glorgan said, “Right, just follow me. We’ll start off slow so you can get the hang of it. Then we’ll pick up the pace a little and have our fun. So, just let it come naturally, and try move up a couple of feet. Go ahead.”

  “Okay, just wait for me. Don’t go taking off!” William asked, readying himself.

  He squirmed and adjusted to some comfort until, at last, he was set to go.

  Firstly he tried moving in his usual human motion (as a normal person would do if they were creeping through a burrow; all elbows and knees). Only that didn’t get him moving at all. He then tried it again the same way, and again, and again after that. Unsuccessful with every attempt, he soon grew tired, not to mention panicky.

  “I can’t do it, Glorgan! I think I want to get out.” He squirmed.

  “Calm yourself, lad. You’re not being naturally Glogish! You have to feel the movement as I do. Look, it’s easy.”

  Providing William with an example, Glorgan bolted forth several feet before slowing into a halt. He moved just like a giant earthworm, in that he didn’t seem to be using his arms or legs at all. He was like a fish through water, as it were.

  “Now, try it again.”

  Though the situation was getting all the more daunting for him, William didn’t want to quit, despite how frightened he was.

  In closing his eyes, he allowed a calmness to overcome him. He released an alleviating breath, making him calmer still. Exercising a new focus, he then opened his eyes, and drew in a fresh lungful of oxygen. Suddenly, with a strong hoist of muscular tension and undiluted power, he shot forth unexpectedly, with a frightful yell. Remarkably he managed to boost forth a short distance. However, in so doing, he misjudged his direction and smacked right into the soles of Glorgan’s big feet.

  “Ouch! Sorry!” he called out, but Glorgan was merely laughing in praise.

  “Waaahaaay! You’ve got it!” cried the Glog, clapping. “And you got a bit of speed in that one, too! Hmmm, most unnatural for a beginner. You should try out for the Glogarian Specials, you’d be a right shoo-in.”

  William laughed, surprised at his bizarre, yet satisfying, accomplishment.

  “Now let’s try another few feet, shall we?” Glorgan suggested.

  The boy eagerly replied, “No, wait! How about we just have a race? I think I’ve got the idea.”

  Glancing curiously back, Glorgan said, “Getting a little sure of ourselves, are we? You’ve only moved once so far, and a very few feet at that. We’ll just keep going like this for a while. Maybe then we’ll think about racing. Besides, you really don’t want to take me on. I was the winner of the Glogarian Specials three winters running! I’d only beat you. Now let’s just take it nice and—”

  In mid-sentence, William shot past Glorgan in a cracking blur.

  “Come on so!” He laughed. “Let’s see what you’re made o’!”

  Glorgan didn’t know what just happened. He was flabbergasted.

  “You’re supposed to be following me!” He smiled. “Ho-ho! I’ll catch you yet, you little blighter. On we gooooooooo.”

  With that, the Glog set off like a cannonball. Skilful and quick was his burrowing, yet, up ahead, he could see William’s trail narrowing off into the darkness, leaving no sign of William.

  “How did he manage that?” Glorgan asked himself, diverting from the path to take a sharp right.

  Faster he went, in an attempt to cut William off on his road. The Glog, after all, was very nervous of the idea that he might actually get lost, which was the last thing he wanted to happen, especially after promising him that he’d be safe.

  Flaring up, his eyes ignited to a bright green, as he probed left and right throughout the underground as he went. You may or may not know that Glogs can see through rock whenever they so wish, and that is precisely what Glorgan was doing at this time. It was imperative that he keep a close eye on the boy, and misplacing him was simply not an option.

  “Where are you, William? Don’t go straying off. It’s very easy get lost in here!” he yelled out, with worry dangling from every word.

  Just up ahead to his left, he spotted another Glog burrowing on at an absolutely extraordinary speed. It was none other than William himself.

  “This lad is fast,” Glorgan said to himself.

  I think it’s safe to say that he was even a tad peeved about William winning the race, but Glorgan’s determination was not about to be broken.

  “Tally-hooo!” he bellowed, ploughing on quicker than ever, slowly but surely gaining the lead.

  They were but fifteen feet apart by now, shoulder to shoulder. William had comfortably adapted to the Glogish ways by then, for Glorgan noticed his lightning-blue Glogish eyes flashing back at him.

  Up they zipped, scaling higher and higher, and in perfect unison. Modifying their course, Glorgan slowed at the pinnacle of the climb before blasting back downwards with burning velocity. William followed, and eventually regained his position in first place...but not by much.

  Virtually at an even tie, they went down, then left, and right, for the best part of a mile. The rumble of passing rock grumbled in William’s ears, which he found to be extraordinary and free. Every couple of minutes they could be spotted outside the walls, in the open caverns. Innocent Dwelvin-Mites would be just ambling merrily along to the gathering, minding their own business, when, from out of the unexpected, two great clumps of stone would suddenly rip past them before disappearing back into the deeper depths of the dark, stony innards. The passersby almost jumped clean out of their socks when this happened, and that’s no exaggeration.

  On and on they raced, for ages; travelling in every which way, and they were relishing every last second of it. Spinning and churning, diving and turning until, after more than fifteen minutes of high-speed racing, they were approaching the end.

  “Okay!” shouted Glorgan, still at full speed. “Look up ahead, and you should see a tunnel opening above. That’s where we have to stop and I’ll change you back. William! Can you see it?”

  Roguishly, the boy taunted, “You mean, that’s the finish line?”

  “Yes, that’s the finish line!” Glorgan howled. “And the last one there is a witch’s knickers!”

  “You said it!” laughed William, and the two tunnelling creatures broke into the final sprint.

  Every second counted. And in every fraction of those seconds, they were both gaining and losing their leads. How impossibly close it was. First Glorgan was ahead, then William, then Glorgan again. Seconds zoomed by far too quickly. The end didn’t seem far enough away at all. With one last kick of energy, Glorgan then burst out from the wall with William just a whisker behind him, both screaming joyously.

  Away they flew, over a yawning gulf and across onto a long, narrow shelf on the other side. Glorgan landed into a jog before coming to a complete halt. William docked himself with a clumsy fumble, tumbling along the ground until he was left sprawled out on his back.

&
nbsp; Running to him, Glorgan asked with concern, “William? William, are you all right?”

  Gawping up at Glorgan with a silly smile on his face, the lad pulled himself to his feet, and dancing about hysterically, he laughed, “That has to be the best thing I’ve ever done!”

  “Easy now,” said a laughing Glorgan, calming him with his hands. “You’re still in Glogish form, and the last thing we need is for this ledge to give in.”

  Indeed, he couldn’t have been more right. Neither of them realised it, but a tiny fracture was already making its way across the length of the lip behind them. Steadily it was widening and eating its way dangerously downwards.

  They seemed to be in a deeper part of the caves now. It almost appeared forgotten from centuries of disuse, as there wasn’t much around but for the ledge on which they stood, and a sheer precipice across the gulf which vanished into an abyss of clouded shadow.

  “First things first, young William. I’ll be needing this back,” said the Glog, slapping him on the back of the head.

  From out of his mouth there popped a small, egg-like stone, much like the last one, and it fell right into William’s hand. First his head shrunk back to size, then his torso; his legs came after that, and finally his arms.

  “Wow, now that’s something I’d love to do again,” the lad said, kneading his shoulder after changing back.

  His adrenaline was pumping so hard and fast that it made all of those plucky leaps down the big green hill back home feel like a boring old round of hopscotch.

  Suddenly they heard a faint cracking sound, and Glorgan became alert and scanned around, but it had already stopped, so he ignored it.

  Placing his hand upon William’s shoulder, Glorgan began to give him careful instruction.

  “Now, down there in this gorge is where you will find the Watergate. Once you jump in, it will whisk you back to the Grollo Halls. You remember the Grollo Halls, don’t you?”

  William nodded, although the idea of now being whisked was still mildly discouraging, regardless of his Glogish accomplishment.

  “You’ll be fine, young William. It’s a doddle! Nothing to worry about. You may not be able to see the gate from up here, but if you look across onto the far precipice, you’ll see that rope which I was talking about earlier. You will need that to get down.”

  Sure enough, there was the rope, not twenty feet away, suspended from the tunnel above, and waving gently in the high draught. Strange to say, William hadn’t noticed it before. It was as if the rope had suddenly slithered out from the tunnel when he wasn’t looking. Then again, William had been so overcome by his excitement that he wouldn’t have noticed a chorus of ballet dancing giraffes if they were right there in front of him, either.

  It was quite a luxurious-looking rope, having been threaded with both silver and gold, and it was very, very long. Deep down into the abyss it dangled, with its end totally out of sight.

  As it happens, there were lots of those tunnels upon that precipice, which all had ropes of their own, of all different lengths. William even witnessed an occasional Dwelvin-Mite or two rappelling down them in the distance until they disappeared into the darkness below. Also, with a rumbling, which started out subtly only to break into a drilling of grinding stone, a head appeared through the very granite of the crag on the far side. ‘Twas an insect head of anomalous proportions, with gaunt, probing tentacles and clear pincers. Then another one appeared, far, far below, and another way off to the right. It seemed that it was they who were fabricating the tunnels. These giant translucent insects were actually working with the Dwelvin-Mites, aiding them in the construction of their subterranean world.

  Pointing them out, William scowled. “What are those things?”

  “Oh! Those are the Trenchins,” Glorgan explained. “They help us to excavate. Sometimes our tunnels tend to collapse due to shoddy support. It’s a real nuisance. Actually, I’m amazed nobody has gotten killed yet. However, we are working on some scaffold to remedy the problem. The Trenchins there just go around, day after day, clearing passageways and making new ones as we need them. Friendly things they are. Their droppings make for very rich soil, too. Great for growing vegetables in...particularly mushrooms! They’re of an eastern breed, meaning that they can only drill through certain soils. Anyhow, enough of that. Are you ready to go then?”

  “Well...how am I supposed to reach the rope?” asked William, who didn’t care much for jumping from things at great heights.

  “Why, you leap of course!” said Glorgan, smiling. And with that grin, William’s heart lapsed.

  “Don’t fear. It’s a Grip Rope. You don’t grab the rope...the rope grabs you! It’s really quite safe. Made by Percy the Lythiann gardener. He was a bit daft really, old Percy. But he was very good at inventing clever things. Lives out in Lythiann, last I heard. But whether he’s still around or not, I can’t honestly say. Who knows what sort of dangers he could have gotten himself into, out there...with Briggun roaming around. Dangerous business indeed. Isn’t that so, Stringles?”

  The rope gave a wobble, and down in the depths of the gulf there came a squeaky reply.

  “That’s right, indeed! Full of scoundrels it is. Is that you, Glorgan ol’ boy? Was that you I heard causing that racket in the walls just now, not but a moment ago?”

  “You heard that?!” gasped Glorgan. “I hope Anun didn’t hear it. Or hear about it would be more to the point!”

  As they conversed, that crack was ever festering, and had almost gnawed through the better part of the ledge. Still, they were none the wiser.

  “Ah, I wouldn’t worry about Anun,” the voice replied. “She’s in a good mood today, with the arrival of the young lad and all that. I haven’t yet met him meself, but he sounds a bit jumpy...a confused sort like. Oh, and by the by, I’ll be needing those trousers back later on this week. I want them for my party next Friday.”

  Glorgan was just about to explain something to William when, with a shocking churn to their stomachs, both Glorgan and William felt the ledge give way.

  Turning to the crack, the Glog suddenly sneered, “Get back! You have some nerve.”

  Upon that command, the fracture went into a retreat. Unluckily for them, it wasn’t quick enough. Had Glorgan only noticed it sooner, the fissure might have had some chance of sealing itself up properly. Only he was too late, and much of the ledge had already been riven. All of a sudden...it collapsed completely.

  Before William could tell what was happening, the wind was blustering past his ears like a thousand flaming torches, and the Glog wasn’t too far behind him. Poor William was too panic-stricken to comprehensibly shout for aid, instead yelling as loud as his lungs would allow. The frosty wind was stinging his eyes, making them burn. The rock face raced up and up with such speed that he couldn’t even focus on grabbing onto a stray branch, or perhaps a ledge, if even there was one available at all. Instead he spun and twirled, with nothing else coming to mind other than his mother, and how she used to console him anytime he was ill or hurt himself. He couldn’t say why this came to mind, it just did.

  His throat clammed up from all his babbling screams as he sped past that very shelf which had collapsed beneath them. It had somehow gotten wedged between the two precipices, and the young fellow was so very fortunate not to have splatted into it like some unsuspecting bug.

  In the midst of his spinning and twisting, he caught a glimpse of a bright turquoise pool at the foundation of the drop. It was getting ever closer with each chest-wringing breath. “Oh, God! Now I’m definitely done for,” was his last recollection. Then, with swift action, the unthinkable happened. Luck, it seemed, was on his side.

  “I have you! No need to fret,” squeaked a voice.

  Opening his eyes, William saw that he was swaying to and fro, suspended just a few feet from the bottom, with his fingers quietly dabbling in the pool of water. Something had clutched onto him mere seconds before his inevitable splat into the pool. Surely it would have been a splat, too,
considering the height he plummeted from.

  Arching his back to look behind him, he saw a rope mummifying his lower half. It was ravelled ‘round and ‘round his legs with some security. William was lost for words, and he felt like throwing up. As a preferred alternative, he just let out a grateful roar of relief.

  So, with the blood coursing rapidly through his veins, he vented, “GOD ALMIGHTY!”

  “So you’re the lad?” a voice suddenly put in. “Strange-looking creature, you are. You look a lot like me father, actually...now that I can get a decent look at you. Ye two are the same breed of animal by the looks of it.”

  William didn’t quite like being called an animal, but right now, he was just glad to still be blinking. Suddenly something thin, silky, and serpentine held onto his pauldron and turned him about in full circle. It was the end of the rope; it was alive, and that was precisely what was talking to him in that shrill voice.

  William wasn’t quite sure of what to say at first, he was just so baffled. So he ended up blurting out any old sentence, on the off-chance of breaking the silence, and to hopefully dissuade the rope from examining him.

  His arms dangling lifelessly in the water, he asked, “Um...Percy, is it?”

  Too busy turning William about and scanning him from head to toe with his serpentine head, the rope said nothing.

  To look at him, you’d say that he was quite a normal rope, like something you would find in a garden shed; aside from his lavish gold and silver threads, that is. At the end, where the threads were bare, was a tiny, bristled mouth. No teeth, no nose, no lips, no eyes nor ears, just a mouth.

  When he didn’t reply, William felt most uncomfortable, and he couldn’t think of what to say next. He then remembered Glorgan, and he wondered where he might’ve gotten to.