The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

by Brian G. Burke

  “Fantastic, that’s my soup spoiled,” the Grogoch said, tutting, with his head practically shoved inside the pot. “No harm, I suppose. I’m only just after having a swift bite in the Hall just now. But I had to rush back here and greet you, my dear fellow.”

  “Oh...well...if you want to get something quick, I can just wait here for you,” William offered civilly. “Only, I think Anun might want to meet us outside shortly?”

  “Oh, in that case, I had better get moving!” Icrick replied hastily.

  “Are you sure?” the boy insisted. “No point in starving yourself, either.”

  “It’s no trouble, William, honestly!” replied Icrick. “Besides, we have too much to get done before we leave.”

  “Like what?” asked the lad, putting his finger out to the raven and almost getting it snapped off.

  “Well, I have to pack up all of my maps and belongings. ‘Tis quite a long trip, you know, and I can’t afford to forget anything important. Oh, I just can’t wait.”

  William, in the meantime, helped himself to a stool near the fire, while Icrick went about packing his things.

  The Grogoch scuttled about, here and there, picking up his bits and pieces with an excited grin on his face.

  “What are you so happy about?” William said, sort of smiling as he watched him. “To me this journey sounds like it’s going to be dangerous. And here you are, acting like you’re going away on holidays.”

  “Oh, but I am, William,” said the Grogoch, with his head buried in a barrel of parchments, as if he’d half fallen in.

  He was a very clumsy critter; walking into stools, and stumbling about and whatnot. Then again, Grogochs generally are—clumsy.

  Eventually, out he popped with an armful of papers and shuffled on over to the boy.

  “It has been centuries since I last saw the light of day, William. And no better place to see it again than Lythiann. Wait till you see it...this land! Rolling hills of the finest green grass; forests full of all kinds of birds, and beasts, and magical creatures. Lakes with nothing but the freshest of waters, and mountains that stretch past the very clouds themselves. Oh, it’s a wondrous world, William! Wait till you see!”

  To William it sounded quite like home, save for the mention of magical creatures, naturally. And Icrick appeared to love Lythiann just as much as William loved Ballycongraggon.

  “I’m sure it’ll be nice to see,” the lad agreed, trying desperately not to dredge up home whilst trying not to appear rude.

  After several minutes, Icrick had finally gotten everything arranged and together. All of his maps and magnifying glasses were packed into his backpack, along with some cutlery and tin dishes for eating with, and he had on his dark-red cloak with a bronze pin.

  “Are those Uileann pipes?” William asked, pointing at the nozzles which were dangling from the bottom of the Grogoch’s pack.

  “What’s that you say?” Icrick asked, twisting about like a dog after his tail. “Oh, Uileann pipes?! Yes, indeed they are, as a matter of fact. Wouldn’t be a proper journey without a tune or two, now, would it? Do you...um...like the pipes?”

  “Well, actually, I used to enjoy listening to them in the place where my ma worked. I was thinking I might take them up some day,” William answered.

  “Oh, good! I’d be happy to show you a tune or two, more than happy.”

  “Well, I’ll just leave it to you for now,” sniggered the boy. “I’ve a feeling we have enough to deal with without me dishing out migraines as well!”

  “Ho-ho, I’m sure you wouldn’t be that bad, William!” chuckled Icrick. “But I shall make them sing a happy melody when the moment calls for it, nonetheless. Delightful! Now, let’s be off. Goodbye, Meldrid!” he said, as they set off out of his house.

  Outside they saw Anun waiting beside the letterbox with her hands resting in her cuffs. She had been waiting there for quite some time. The Grogoch couldn’t apologise enough for keeping her waiting. Anun didn’t mind, because, during her wait, she had done her rounds of the other houses, visiting the ill and making sure that they had everything they required, such as food and water. Once Icrick was done apologising, they strolled up that sloping road towards Anun’s abode.

  During that walk, William kept his eyes to the ground. Seeing the sorrow in those faces again was something that he would not wish to encounter twice in one day. Anun was explaining a few details to William, and Icrick too listened intently, should William fail to recall anything later on.

  She explained to them that Lythiann would seem bare of life. For, after Drevol’s attack, not everyone came with her to the Grollo. Any remaining survivors had probably scattered to different parts of the world and were now in hiding from his magic, somewhere, under those post-apocalyptic conditions. Lest it should happen where they did encounter life, she explained that some folk could very well be friendly, while others, hostile, and to be extra vigilant.

  She then went on to warn them about one soul in particular.

  “There is a man who roams the land of Lythiann,” she said, with her eyes pleading that they heed her counsel. “A blind man, name of Redmun. He means well...as far as I know. Yet it troubles me to think of him, for I know not if he is a threat, out there, roaming around. So maybe it would be best if you stay clear of his company, unless you have absolutely no other choice.”

  “Where does he dwell, Your Highness?” asked Icrick, in his struggle to keep up. “So we will know when to be wary of him.”

  “Nobody truly knows,” Anun answered. “Some say that he has terrible powers and resides within shadow. Others call him the Outlander; a nomad who endlessly wanders in search of reason. Nevertheless, trouble is never far from him, so be ever watchful, because you will never know when your paths may cross. Be warned!”

  Both William and Icrick remembered the name well, and they kept it stowed safely within the forefronts of their minds.

  “And another thing, William,” she said, kneeling before him.

  With her eyes fixed serenely on his, she tenderly ran her fingertips from his forehead to his cheek, while saying, “For our protection, do not tell others of us in the Grollo...I beg of you!”

  It was quite a pleasant feeling. So much so that his eyes closed unwittingly as she did it, and a feeling like that of a tepid glow was hovering over his face. It then seemed to absorb into his flesh and envelop his mind, as though wrapping his burdens in a fine quilt of tranquillity and care. But it soon waned. William then made his promises, together with the Grogoch.

  “I won’t tell a soul,” he vowed, rousing from his passing trance.

  “Nor will I!” added Icrick.

  Placing both hands upon their cheeks, Anun smiled. “Splendid. I thank you both.”

  Once they arrived at Anun’s abode, William needed to step back to appreciate it. It was absolutely magnificent. A fantasy to the eyes. From the road it was quite difficult to see, over the high grove of remarkable redwood and banyan trees. But once they entered the grounds and found their way up the path, the tower became all the clearer. It was a castle built from a cluster of stalagmites which themselves were of gargantuan proportions. The largest and most majestic one of all acted as the main tower itself, and it reached to quite a magnificent height. At its front was a set of royal wooden doors with two rows of birch trees leading up to them on either side, poised like grand wardens of the estate. As a matter of fact, as William strode by, he felt as though their trunks were twisting ever so slightly in his direction as he passed below them, like they were studying him in his ways...granted, he could not say for certain. The shorter of the towers was set with many windows, all of which were placed sparsely from the next and in little sequence, while many stairways climbed steeply about the face, leading into different rooms which were also connected by a multitude of fixed bridges. It looked to be a fortress, big enough to house the entire population of the Grollo itself. It belonged to Anun, however, and Anun alone. Needless to say, it was rightfully hers for all she
had done and, indeed, was still doing for the Dwelvin-Mites. Nor was there any protest, as they all knew this to be just.

  When they went inside, Anun asked them to wait in the foyer as she went to retrieve their gifts. She made her way down the tall hallway before them, and there they waited for her to return. Beside the arch of the hallway there was a black steel staircase accompanied by many lanterns, both of which wound up and up for a time. To the right of that was an extravagant mahogany door which was slightly ajar. William, after having nosed around the foyer for a bit, wound up pushing the door open another crack to have a peep in.

  It was quite the crammed little room, like a study, for there were quite a few books upon the shelves. A table with a deep porcelain basin was in there too, which seemed a little out of place, yet that whole room possessed such a regal feel to it that, perhaps, it did belong. And regardless of the amount of volumes that occupied its space, that chamber was still extremely organized.

  William poked his head in a tad farther to feel a strange, rising humidity on his face. It seemed to keep to the confines of that particular threshold. Then something really grabbed his attention. At the rear of the study, wreathing a high, stain-glassed window, was a huge assortment of yellow flowers, all set in pots and vases, and hanging from baskets. There were vessels upon vessels of yellow daisies, yellow roses, yellow pansies, yellow sunflowers, yellow daffodils, yellow lilies, yellow hyacinths, and yellow moonbeams. Clusters of them, all bringing sweet aromas to the air which, to our William, now felt to be broiling. Her collection was astonishing. And then there were the three shelves just inside the door, to the left, with dozens of glass jars on them, all filled with a curious, yellowish pulp—presumably from the flowers—and they lit up the chamber cosily.

  “Nightlight?” Icrick speculated, pinging one of the jars with a good flick, nearly toppling it over, but he caught it just in time.

  William found the look on Icrick’s furry head very amusing then. The sheer shock. And yet, the Grogoch was probably right, considering the amount of books in what would otherwise be a fairly dim library. Quite the avid reader, Anun. No wonder she was so wise.

  Just then, they heard her arriving back from down the hall, and she had some items with her. Two cloaks, a backpack, a walking stick, and a tiny black velvet purse dangling from her finger.

  “I have kept these for quite a while. I was not sure if I would be able to find them again.” She smiled, handing them each a cloak. “These are for you. They are enchanted garments known as ‘comfort cloaks.’ They work in accordance to the weather, you see. So if it is cold they shall keep you extra warm. Or if it is hot, they will cool you down. And if it rains, they will keep you bone-dry. They also mature with your height, so there will never be any fear of growing out of them. They are not much of an item, but you will be glad of their magic when the time comes.”

  She had a dark-brown cloak for William and a charcoal one for Icrick.

  “Why thank you, Your Highness!” said Icrick, coddling over it with great detail. “With your permission, would it be all right if I left my other cloak with you...until I come back?”

  “Of course you can, Icrick,” said she. “I shall keep it safe for you.”

  Graciously the Grogoch removed his red cloak and left it with Anun. He then slung the new one over his back.

  “Thank you very much,” said William, pulling the cloak over his shoulders, and immediately he felt it cooling him from the warmth of that room.

  “Here is a backpack for your camping equipment should you need it, William,” she said, handing him the bag. “And here is the walking staff which I myself used to use on my own little excursions around Lythiann.”

  She then offered him the staff. On top of it, a hawk’s head was whittled. It had eyes of amber beads. Fastened just below its neck were two white feathers, giving the staff a feel of outlandish antiquity.

  “Thanks, again,” said William, accepting the gift with great appreciation.

  “And here are two golden coins which I have kept since the Free Age. They are very rare, so keep them safe,” said she, displaying the purse.

  “What will I need these for?” asked William, taking it and examining it in his hands.

  “You will know, when the time comes,” she replied.

  She then crouched before the boy, again staring into his eyes. There was something different in the manner in which she looked at him then. An expression which spoke with less imperialism, but of more purity.

  “You know, before warriors ever made it to fruition, it was custom to tie their hair in two tails as part of their internship,” she explained. “It suggested that, once the tails became one again, it would symbolize one being united with his mind and heart, bearing the knowledge of the true warrior. It is more of a superstition, really. Nothing may ever come of it, but it was tradition...may I?”

  Obliging as he was, William permitted. Anun so reached around his head and tied two short tails behind each ear. She then bound them with tight black fibres.

  “There!” She smiled, observing the boy before her. “Now you are on your way to becoming a true warrior!”

  There he was indeed. Young William Muldoon, now clad in the complete noble attire of an ancient warrior, and ready to embark on his journey. Still, his elation for this new appearance was restrained by a sudden thought.

  “Can I ask you something, Anun?” he said.

  “Certainly, William. What is it?” she replied.

  “I heard about a spell that was placed on the Grollo. ‘Once you leave, you can’t come back.’ Why is that?” he asked, curious as to whether he could indeed make it back inside, if he really needed to.

  Troubled, Anun sighed and said, “Where did you hear of this?”

  “I...um...overheard it when I was in the city before,” he answered, hoping to spare Picksy a possible scolding.

  Showing slight distress, Anun went on to explain, “After the Pooka invaded Lythiann, we travelled for miles and weeks on foot, being incessantly careful not to be spotted by Drevol, for he was still combing the land for prey. In the west we happened upon this cave and, inside, we discovered it was quite large. Large enough to accommodate our entire community and more. However, the Pooka was on our trail. So, together, we entered this mysterious cavern without any time for thought. Fortunately, he did not see where we went. Yet, with us just in hiding, the mere hope of him overlooking this sanctuary was still not enough for us. We needed a gateway of some kind! A barrier. Protection from the outside.

  “There were three witches in our party; Jesil, Monra and Lainà. They were sisters, and a very powerful coven. I implored these witches to place a protective spell upon the opening of the cave. So they began to do just that. But in order for the spell to be completed in full, a corresponding spell had to be cast on the outside of the gate...someone had to stay behind. Unfortunately, Jesil had been severely wounded during our initial escape...she did not have much time left. So her choice was made and she stepped forth, claiming this task as her own. She sacrificed her own life and remained in Lythiann to complete the spell, while the others executed it from the inside. We knew that once the incantation was active, no more could get in. And if anybody managed to get out, then they would not be able to return.

  “The opening was finally secured, but Jesil was abandoned; left to travel the land until death eventually caught up with her. She was a very dear friend to me, and sometimes it pains me to speak about her. But she was a very brave and noble soul.”

  “I’m sorry.” William fretted. “I-I didn’t know...”

  “Do not apologise, William. It is okay. She did not die in vain. She rescued more with her courage than I could have done otherwise. She was a hero to us...like you.”

  She then smiled at him, their saviour-to-be, and a tear glistened in her eye like a liquid diamond.

  “But these details are irrelevant to the task, William. That is why I chose not to tell you of it. You already have enough burden upon yo
ur shoulders without worrying about your return,” she said, when a seriousness overcame her. “But I promise you...you will return to us, a greater person than you would have ever wished to be! Do you understand this, William?”

  “I understand,” said he, sensing the sincerity in her voice.

  “I hope so,” she said with a smile. “Now, you must make for the land of Lythiann. Are you ready? Both of you?”

  With both in agreement, she said, “Good. Now, let us be on our way.”

  In leaving Anun’s tower, they went on to the final location for departure. It was that same molten place which William had noticed through that large stony window when he first came to the Grollo. There they were to be collected and conveyed to the gateway into Lythiann’s west.

  As they approached the thick river of fire, it bubbled and popped in its syrupy flow. Waves of heat danced up into their faces, and William found himself sweating by it upon his arrival. He could hardly open his eyes, the heat was so intense. But their cloaks kept them cool enough.

  The molten river rolled on to their right, past nubs of rock, until it widened and rushed down to what seemed to be a huge volcanic falls. Beyond this were the innards of another massive cave. All William could see of it was the steaming heat from the fiery lake below, and the giant stacks of rock which stood up within. So, there they waited, in this tunnel; such as the way one would wait on a platform for a train.

  Suddenly he heard something approaching from the darker end of the tunnel.

  “Whoa, Whooooah!” it commanded in a gritty voice.

  Then, running along the volcanic river there came two strong-looking wolves, with paws of fire and eyes as red as blood. Massive wolves, with jet-black fur and great, bat-like wings pleated over their shoulders. They were drawing a raven chariot which ran upon two wheels of blazing tongues, and it was entirely riveted with steel barbs.