The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

by Brian G. Burke

  “Within the foil of each is a description and direction, telling you what the magic is and how to wield it. Unfortunately, you will not know what each does until you open it. A minor flaw in their design. Whichever you decide to consume is entirely up to you, and your choice must be consumed immediately! It cannot be replaced for another because, once the wrapping is removed, the magic will only remain potent for a short time. And after such time, it will vanquish completely. So choose carefully, and not with haste.”

  Closing the box again, the lad was about to pack it into his rucksack when, just to his right, he saw another item dangling from a nail on the wall. It was a thick leather satchel with a heavy golden buckle and two elongated back straps, and it was empty. Around the seam was a line of silver runes, going from one corner to the other. William inspected it, and then compared it to his own shabby rucksack. He also remembered just how unreliable it was in the past, with things flying out of it and whatnot, so he grabbed the new satchel and began spilling all of his belongings into it.

  When his old bag was finally empty, he rummaged around in the fresh satchel to make some space, when suddenly, he felt something strange at the bottom. He reached in and pulled out a cream bun. He didn’t remember packing any buns, but there’s no sense in throwing it away. It seemed to be fresh.

  He stuffed the bun back inside again when he happened upon yet another object. It was large, round, and rather soft. This time he lifted out a large loaf of freshly baked bread.

  “This isn’t mine either!” he said, scratching his head.

  Leaving the loaf to one side he began rooting inside for a third time, until he came across another new thing. It was warm, very slippery, and of a very obscure shape. It was a roast chicken. William continued to search and, the more he did so, the more he came across the most wonderful types of food. From apples, to ham sandwiches, to bacon, to biscuits, and all were freshly prepared and ready to eat.

  “What kind o’ bag is this?!” he asked, with a contorted eye.

  “This is your satchel of plenty,” Anun explained. “It delivers you a never-ending supply of food, as well as a substantial amount of space for your own belongings. You need but think of what you desire, and it will offer it to you instantly. And judging by all you are finding now, it seems you are quite famished!”

  “Well, it has been a good long while since I ate. Nine days, or whatever it was,” said William. “And one thing I’ve been craving since I left school was some nice green grapes. Do you mind?”

  “By all means!” Anun chuckled.

  Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a fine bunch of the greenest, seedless grapes, and he tucked in without thinking twice about it. He was very hungry indeed, for the grapes disappeared into his mouth within seconds, leaving his cheeks bulging with tasty pulp and sweet juices.

  Anun chortled again, and asked, “Enjoying yourself?”

  William tried saying something, only his mouth was too full, so it came out all muffled.

  Eventually, he gulped it down, and praised, “Those are probably the best grapes I’ve ever tasted!”

  “Indeed they are.” Anun nodded. “Everything from the satchel of plenty is fresh, because it comes fresh from your thoughts. It is a smart decision to bring this item with you, for some of your odyssey may be desolate, and food will be scarce. Take good care of it now. You cannot afford to misplace it, and it could also prove very dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  Wiping his mouth on the back of his gauntlet, William slung the bag straps over his shoulder, so the satchel hung down neatly upon his thigh.

  I must tell you, that this precious little item also caught the undivided attention of one of the onlookers, and I bet you can guess who it was, too. Exhibiting a crafty giggle, the idea of an endless drinking supply danced through his head, and he left a puddle of drool by his feet.

  “So will that be all, William? Or do you wish to take more?” she asked of him.

  The boy thought for a moment, rubbing his chin and gazing about the room. Meanwhile, the others kept watching him, blinking stupidly, and any beast with a snout was sniffing the path of William’s eyes.

  Eventually he decided that he would need no more. He had food and magic, and that would suffice until he came across more useful items along the way. He considered bringing a weapon, but that was just begging for trouble, so he decided against it. Besides, he owned a good pair of running legs, and a sword was already awaiting him, whether he wanted it or not.

  “Very well then,” said Anun, helping him to his feet. “You must embark on this mission soon, young William.”

  “How soon, exactly?” he asked, somewhat anxiously.

  “Ideally...hours,” she replied. “Time, unfortunately cannot be spared. The last burning eclipse was around the time of the battle. And we have recently learned that, once Mysun comes back to us, the new eclipse will be soon thereafter. Thus meaning that Drevol’s army will scout the land yet again. Then again, ‘soon’ to us could mean months, or...even years!”

  “Years? Really?!” The boy gasped.

  “You must understand, William, given how we all live throughout the centuries, mere years to us pass like moments. So, we must strike before Drevol can brainwash these beasts into doing his will. I dare say, if that happens before you get to him, then it will make your journey all the more perilous. And we must not take that chance.”

  “All right...I agree...the sooner the better! And is there anything else I need to know before I go?”

  Elusively, though with a sense of faith, she answered, “Anything other than that which I have already told you, you shall likely learn along the way, William. So, I implore you, have trust in all that I have imparted. Have trust in yourself, in your decisions. And try not worry needlessly.”

  “I’ll try. But I’m still not entirely sure about which way I have to go when I get to this Lythiann place,” he said, feeling rather apprehensive about doing all of this on his own.

  “This has been taken care of. I have arranged a guide for you. He will stay with you until journey’s end. I told him to watch out for you no matter what the cost. He is very loyal, and he knows some of the best ways to get around Lythiann.”

  William was comforted by this, but he was also quite curious as to who this guide was actually going to be.

  “A guide! Well, that’s good. When will I get to meet him?” he asked.

  “We can go now, if you wish,” Anun replied.

  “It’s as good a time as any, I suppose.”

  Thus, leaving the crowd behind, they made their way back into the Grollo city so as young William could become acquainted with his new guide. Little did he realise how comforted he would be to see who it actually was.

  - Chapter Six -

  A Familiar Face

  Just aside the tower house there was a wide, cobbled road down which they ambled. Sloping to a dip, the path led onto a residential street with ancient houses on either side. It was a much darker area of the city, that street, having only accommodated seven street lamps down a stretch of road which measured about a half-mile in total. Apart from those lamps, the only light to glimmer was from the volcanic etchings near the ceiling, which seemed to linger all the more profusely in that specific area, thus conveying even more warmth to the district.

  ‘Derelict’ came to William’s mind, when he studied those houses. But those buildings weren’t unoccupied, as more melancholic creatures were dwelling within, though very few. William only counted eight Elfish women, all of whom were wrapped up tightly in thick woollens as they sat on their old porch rocking chairs, rocking to and fro, with the wistful creaking of wood upon aging floorboards.

  There could very well have been more people about, in hiding, though William did not see them.

  How sad those present few seemed as they gazed blankly at him, while he and Anun strolled on by. It was almost as if they were staring right through him, directly back into the despair of their own lives, and every ounce of spirit
seemed to be bled from their souls until they were but empty shells, yearning for the release of their own demise. Much like those who dwelt within, the houses too were dreadfully rundown; with the garden gates just barely clinging from rusted hinges, and limp boards leaning out from splintered garden fences. Weeds grew copiously throughout this side of the town, from one property to the next, yet not obstructing the dusty road. Instead, they curled through the palings until they crept up and around the very houses themselves, choking them and invading their cavities as years of decay ate slowly away at the lice-infested timber.

  It was a depressing old stroll for the young lad, wandering down such a dismal road, with him in perfect health. Something told him that he hadn’t the right to scrutinize these people in their anguish; it seemed wrong and disrespectful. Yet they had every right to be watching him, admiring all he had and all that he would ever have, for never was he to be bound to their miserable fate. Only then did he notice a sadness seeping its way into his gut, soaking into his very bones, and he began to understand what dreaded potentials this place might have in store for one who was constrained to eternally endure its pitiless grip. In that moment, William felt truly uneasy in this strange new world, but he continued to feel for those who had no choice other than to remain there.

  Near the end of this road, where it could travel no further, was probably the nicest house of all; but it was still rather dilapidated, and ever so misshapen. It was almost like something from a bizarre dream, however not in the least nightmarish. To a degree this abode was still fairly well preserved, like it had been cared for; both treated and painted. Its convivial shade of midnight blue was but now fading to flakes and cracks. An effort too had been invested into the little garden, where a periphery of weeds had been pruned to appear quite decorative. The lawn itself was more of dry muck than of grass, whilst what little grass had occupied it had long since wilted. Also, just outside the garden gate was a metal post box which merely said ‘Tum’ in white paint. But why such an implement would be required in that place, would be a bafflement to most.

  “Here we are,” said Anun, gesturing to the house. “This is where your guide lives.”

  “It’s nice!” William said politely, suddenly spotting three mice making a dart across the lawn into the unknown.

  Knowing full well the boy’s true impressions, Anun replied, “Well, as nice as can be expected in such a place, I am sure you would agree, William. Your host takes great pride in preserving whatever beauty he can scavenge within our caves. Now, we had better get inside. He is expecting you, and time is now of the utmost importance!”

  “Are you coming in with me?” he asked, and Anun replied with a nod.

  William had just lifted the latch and pushed open the quaint wooded gate when an elderly Elfish woman, bunched in rags, suddenly came at him from nowhere. She hobbled right up to the boy and began groping onto him with her sickly hands.

  “Believe in yourself! Trust your intuition! Follow the prophecies!” she moaned, as though pleading in her withered, juddering voice.

  William leaned away in horror as she moved in closer. Not that he was repulsed by the lady in her condition. It was more down to him not expecting it to happen. But no matter how odd the situation might have been, he could not deny the genuineness of her words. The sheer urgency.

  “Leave him be now, Sasà.” Anun smiled affectionately, as she helped the woman’s frail hands off William’s tunic. “He has much to do, and I am afraid he cannot be bothered.”

  Nothing else could explain how this woman appeared, other than worn and demented. She had an undiluted gaze of madness in her eyes. And as Anun was turning her away from him, the woman was nodding to herself like she didn’t quite know where she was or what she was doing. But Anun, being caring by nature, assisted her, and was going to see her safely home.

  “You go on in, William,” she said, as she walked the lady gently back to her house. “Sasà is one of our eldest, and is not quite herself of late. Used to be a very talented fortune teller back in the day, poor thing. Nowadays her visions are cluttered and all jumbled up, so it confuses her. She must be put to bed, lest she stray into harm. I shall meet you here when you have conversed with your guide, for I have some gifts of my own that I wish to give to both of you. You will be okay, I trust?”

  “Oh...I’ll be fine,” William found himself saying. “Take your time. I’ll meet you out here in a few minutes.”

  With that, Anun departed and, as strange as that whole episode was, William managed to disregard it, having had far too much going on in his mind that he simply couldn’t bear adding more to his pile of burden.

  Thus, “I’m not even going to ask,” he muttered, as he watched the two ladies amble off into the darkness.

  Opening the gate with a squeak, he strolled up the garden path to the cosy wooden stair which led onto a rather inviting timber porch. Once again, it was quite ornate, as some of the more colourful weeds, such as dandelions and purple nut sedge, seemed to have been floriated and thoughtfully arranged in pots along the windowsills and decking. I wouldn’t imagine that any species of typical flower would have survived too well in such a bleak environment, much like the Dwelvin-Mites themselves. So it was not surprising that they had to make do with whatever they could find.

  It was a snug little abode, from what William could tell by the outside. There was a small, crooked door in between two windows, which themselves were equally as wonky, and curtained with some tattered lace, thereby preventing any view of the inside. A fire had obviously been lit, for a thin thread of smoke was streaming out from the chimney and floating up into the shadows of the cavern. William stood there briefly, glancing around, thinking. He would have preferred that Anun introduced him to this new guide of his, rather than William making his own introductions. It was already an awkward enough situation as it was, and he wasn’t wholly certain on what he was going to say. All of a sudden, the door opened all by itself.

  At first, he didn’t budge. He simply stood away from it, discreetly peeping in. It then opened up wider, almost as if the door itself had noticed William outside and found it terribly rude to keep a guest waiting. Presuming it an invite, he hesitantly found his way inside.

  Into a large open room he stepped...and halted. It was empty. A touch apprehensive about just strolling in like he owned the place, William instead stuck out his neck to see if he could spot any signs of life...but nobody was to be seen. Well, not until the patter of feet came walking merrily across the stone floor, that is. Immediately William caught sight of some footprints appearing upon the dusty stone and, hitherto, he heard someone humming, but there was no physical sign of anyone present.

  Clearing his throat, he asked, “Ahem...hello?”

  Then, before his eyes, like a figure materializing from the very furnishings of the chamber, the shape of a Grogoch manifested. Only when it came to full form could William truly say who it was. It was, of course, that friendly Icrick creature again. He was plodding around in invisible form, doing his few little dribs and drabs. It is a very useful talent of the Grogochs, invisibility. That and... Well, you shall find that out a little later.

  “Hello, my dear lad!” he said, with a gleaming smile and his arms out. “Come on in.”

  “Hello, Icrick!” William said, being rather glad to see a familiar face. “Icrick Tum, is it?”

  “That it is, my dear fellow. Icrick Tum, at your service,” he said with a giggle.

  “So, you’re my guide then?” William asked.

  “Indeed I am, my boy. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this day. All my Christmases have come at once, so they have,” Icrick replied with a cheerful chuckle.

  “Well, I’m just glad to see a familiar face,” said William, glancing about the room, and then out into the street behind him. “So, you...um...live in this part...with the rest of them?”

  I think he was rather surprised to imagine that someone would dwell so voluntarily in such a place, pre
suming Icrick was given a choice to reside elsewhere in the Grollo to begin with. How it could have been good for maintaining one’s spirits, William did not know.

  “Oh, most of us live here in this part of town. Even Anun.” The Grogoch smiled, waddling over to close the door. “She lives in the large tower house in the very middle there. Of course, she deserves it, after all she has done for us in the past. There are a few other areas about where others choose to stay. That’s their preference, however. All parts of the Grollo are pretty much alike, anyways, so it doesn’t really make much odds. Now, come inside and get some warmth into your bones.”

  Glad of the invite and rubbing the heat into his hands, William went further inside and made himself comfortable.

  It was a simple enough sort of house, consisting of just one very high, dusty room. To the left, a ladder was leading up to a loft, where a cot rested beside a window. To his right was a blazing fireplace, within which a small cauldron was bubbling over. Spotting this himself, Icrick waddled over to it, cursing to himself. Using a cloth, he carefully lifted it off and carried it to the table in the centre of the room.

  Beside the fireplace, a raven flapped upon his perch stand, which William hadn’t noticed at first, and he was squawking away as though laughing at Icrick and the mess he’d made of his dinner. He was a funny-looking fellow, with a fluffy grey mane, and a red bell-collar about the nape of his neck.

  “Oh, hush your beak, Meldrid,” the Grogoch said grumpily.

  There were a good many hideaways and cupboards about the room, too, and they were all jammed with maps, and books, and broad antique scrolls. The place would have been a complete sty had they not been packed away as tidily as could be.