The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

by Brian G. Burke

  “Yeah, but you have to understand, Icrick, that we need money back home. We need it to survive. Without it we’d be out in the street, hungry and freezing!” said the lad.

  “Need, you say?” asked Icrick. “What is it that you could possibly need which nature cannot already freely provide? Life only needs one thing to survive, William.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Well, if you don’t already know...then...um...I can’t honestly tell you,” Icrick answered regretfully. “It doesn’t work like that. It’s just one of those precious little things that you have to discover for yourself. But you will no doubt discover it for yourself before the candle fades. We all do! And only then will you truly understand its worth.”

  Khrum was nodding away in accord, and after Icrick had said his piece, they both sauntered on, leaving William to ponder his rather mysterious statement. “What was all that about?” he thought.

  As he watched those two curious characters strolling merrily off towards the thinly clouded, summer horizon, he began to accept that this world was indeed much different to his own, and that he may yet have much to learn. Sticking his thumb behind his strap, he waded on through the wheat with his long staff leading his way.

  Being out there amongst those fields was all so welcoming for the boy, and even more so for Icrick and Khrum, who’d been cooped up underground for God knows how long. The sun moved lazily across the sky and beamed down upon their faces, bringing them to a squint. Everyplace was just so peaceful and undisturbed. It was really very difficult for our William to believe that this land was under any threat whatsoever, but he had a peculiar feeling in his gut which told him otherwise. Those hills were almost too still.

  Dinnertime soon came again, and dusk was hinting in the clouds. At the base of a steep hill they rested beside some lilac bushes, and Icrick got a fire going with his trusty flint. There was a narrow gully nearby where William attended to his lavatory needs. Before he could ‘spring a leak,’ however, he encountered the most unusual flock of creatures legging it up the gully floor. They were just as nervous of him as he was of them, but they were still so very strange; like lizards with really long, stiff tails, and obscurely lanky hind legs which spun in wide circles. What’s more, they were quite small, being about the size of a chicken. When William spotted them first, he fixed his kilt in a panic. How was he to know that he was peeing into some creature’s nest? The instant his shadow clouded over their gully they scampered off up the little ravine with belches of squiggly gobbles, then they were gone. As an alternative, William found himself a small bush where he could finish his business, though not before inspecting it with a long branch first.

  During their preparation of dinner, they watched the sun diminishing to the west. Absorbing this view, William recalled the times upon Ballycongraggon when he saw the sun setting near Galway Bay, and how extraordinary a sight it was to him even then. Soon, night closed in, and they talked and talked, and feasted much. So much so that they turned in early to sleep off the grumblings of their bulging tummies. Sound was their slumber in the tranquil air of the night. Then, amidst the cool breeze, their fire burnt low; yet still the embers were glowing come daylight.

  Gathering their supplies, they decided to cover some ground before having breakfast that morn. Their stomachs were still satisfied from the hearty feast the night previous, so they felt that they should just try and make up some time and settle for an early lunch instead. On they swept, easterly through the valley, after which they eased slightly north by Dimlìn Forest before approaching the foothills near the other end. Lunchtime had already come and gone by then. Once they realised this, they left their things down beside some grand boulders and a quiet stream, where they ate just enough to see them comfortably through the rest of the afternoon. They could easily have rested all the longer, after walking all that way. Still, the more they lingered, the more they felt obliged to make up more distance.

  Because a mild chill was approaching, they built a quick fire and dined hastily. Chiefly, buttered bread and jam. Waiting for Khrum, who was wolfing down the last of his meal, Icrick mentioned how he’d taken a deep interest in William’s name, for it was such an obscure title in comparison to most imp titles.

  Getting a feel for its pronunciation, he said, “William...William...Will-yam. That’s a funny name, isn’t it? William. William...Wi-lee-am. Where did you get it from?”

  “Well, there was Scottish blood in our family, way down the line, on my father’s side,” the lad told them, prodding the embers with a branch. “Apparently I was named after King William. ‘The lion,’ they called him.”

  He then smirked to himself and shook his head.

  “What?” asked Icrick, swabbing the crumbs from his lips. “What’s funny?”

  “Nothing really. It’s just...he was supposed to have been a ferocious warrior,” he answered, grinning, like a quiet revelation had just dawned on him.

  “It doesn’t surprise me sure,” added Khrum, as he washed down the last of his food with a swig of milk. “The Irish ‘n’ the Scots are both extremely alike, ya see! Both were races o’ brave souls. Folk o’ principle! Races o’ men who knew what it meant ta live for their beliefs. Nothin’ could’ve dissuaded that stubborn will ta claim their rights as human bloody beings. Nothin’ at all! That’s backbone, I tell ye, lads! When the world outman’s ya on every possible front, yet ya shtill say, ‘Ta hell with ya!’ an’ press on regardless. That’s the way the world should shtill be! But the years have a funny aul’ way o’ turnin’ them things ‘round...”

  A tad surprised by Khrum’s sudden fervour, William smiled and said, “Wow, so you do have a serious side to you after all, Khrum!”

  “Only if the issue calls for it, boyo,” said the leprechaun, and winked. “An’ nobody deserves it more than the heroes of our yeshteryear.”

  His eyes lost in middle distance, Icrick added, “If only that nobility prevailed. Then we would still have the land that we once called home...and we would never have known such immorality as we do today.”

  “Blame the sorcerers, I say...not the men,” Khrum pointed out. “Were it not for them blashted necromancers ‘n’ the likes, then we would shtill have the honourable folk that once were. Always wantin’ more power than they could use...greedy pigs!”

  “That’s not entirely fair either,” Icrick differed. “Only some of them had gotten swayed by greed...not all of them. And you know that well enough, Khrum. Take Mysun, for example!”

  “Ah, yes, well...they’re but few ‘n’ far between,” replied the leprechaun, when he drifted into a thought, and said, “But I do miss the aul’ Elderland, I do! Don’t get me wrong; Lythiann is paradise as well, so it is! But I jusht have so many great memories o’ bein’ back in the old land. Memories from my childhood ‘n’ the likes. Runnin’ through the cornfields...after the girls...’n’ havin’ my first glass of poitìn at three. Aaah, good times! But I suppose it’s all knocked ta smithereens now. Eh, William lad? Gutted! Gaudy aul’ structures gawkin’ over ya, blockin’ out the sun as if it were bad for the spirits. I’ve heard what goes on up above.”

  “It’s not all that bad,” said William, listening contentedly as Khrum romanticized about his home.

  Shuffling in a little closer, Icrick asked, “Oh, what’s it like nowadays, William? Do tell!”

  “Yeah, tell us what it’s like now in your day ‘n’ age, lad,” Khrum added, and he too got a little more comfortable.

  Amused by their keen interest, William brushed his hands of the branch and began, “Well, it’s not as bad as you might think, for a start. I mean, there are no massive buildings about, like the ones you’d find in foreign countries. Ireland is still really very simple; with cottages, and mills, and little boathouses by the riverbanks. Then there’s the countryside itself. And to be honest, it’s not really much different to Lythiann. Well, we may not have as many magical things or huge mountains near Ballycongraggon. But it’s still really beautiful there, a
nd it has its own kind o’ magic...a not so obvious one. It’s almost like you can feel it when you wake up, or when you smell the heather by sunrise; or when you talk to your neighbour, or when you just stare out across the ocean on a summer’s day. Kind o’ like the magical home feeling...you know? That content feeling you couldn’t really get anywhere else. It’s nice...really nice.”

  “Home feeling, you say? What makes this sensation so, exactly? The land? The trees?” asked Icrick, who was warmed by William’s homey description.

  “Well, I suppose the land has something to do with it. But I’d say it’s more the people who are mostly responsible for it...and family,” the lad replied. However much it pained him to confess, considering his troubles, he still managed to smile.

  Clearly empathizing with the boy, Khrum interrupted by saying, “Well...um...yes, we see what ya mean there, lad. Sounds grand, it does. But we besht get movin’ on! Don’t ye think? Before we lose any more time?”

  Then, with William lost in his reminiscences of home, Khrum elbowed the Grogoch with a glance, and Icrick said, “Oh! Oh, yes! Perhaps it would be best if we got moving! Wouldn’t you say so, William?”

  Oblivious to their concern, the lad said with good cheer, “Yeah, you’re right. Better be off. Maybe we can find some decent shelter tonight as well, while we still have the sun on our side.”

  “Right ya are, laddie!” laughed Khrum, in hope of raising his spirits. “Sounds like a plan ‘n’ a half ta me, it does! Considerin’ most plans only half work out, let’s hope all our luck is in that extra wee bit,” he joked.

  With rest taken and food gone, they collected their gear, quenched the fire and traipsed further through the day.

  Leading over the knolls to the left was a beaten trail of some sort, which eventually strayed true north amongst the waist-high grasses and the new realm of Gil Tullìn, so Icrick said. But that was not part of their route, so they decided to skip through the trees and hilltops beyond the River Bán instead, and keep their course eastward.

  Stealing from the trail, they slunk up through the hills, then on into the wood. Great black bears resided in that part of the world, thus it was imperative that they kept the noise to a minimum. Imagine how unfortunate it would be for them to set out upon this bold adventure only to be slaughtered by some ravenous bear in the first few days. It just wouldn’t do.

  Silently into the woods they skulked. Spruce trees filled that shallow woodland; both big and small. Luckily for the three, they weren’t long safely pressing through before the level plain became visible again downhill on the other side. But their venture through those trees did not go by without the occasional snarl or the nearby rustling of ferns. It was quite unnerving, particularly for William, who thought he could live out his entire life without ever seeing such a creature, as none were to be found in Ireland in his days. And yet, here he was, walking cross-country with a leprechaun and a Grogoch...so anything could’ve been possible for him really. But they were safe on the plain again, and out of harm’s way.

  In the clear distance, mountainous teeth sparkled in the sun, right up toward the solitary Mount Giffùr on their right, roiling around which was a helter-skelter of bleak cloud. Not far north of this peak was an ancestry of ancient cliffs which they decided to make for, should they need to camp up before reaching day’s end. At least then they would have had some form of shelter from any nightly chill.

  They were travelling alongside the foot of the cliffs when, after about an hour or so, they saw more grand mountains staring down upon them from the plateau above. These were snow-capped mountains of bluish-grey rock, with many caves near the bottoms of them, which would have been ideal to sleep in. But, every now and again, a low, sullen howl emitted from those caves. They could but imagine what sort of beasts lay resting inside, so there was no point in considering it further, and they ventured on.

  It was near sunset when the cliffs disappeared southward from their course and they were left, again, to travel the flat openness of the plain. Here they happened upon another brook, which they followed in the hope that it may yet lead them to some form of haven. It was Icrick’s idea to drink as much as they liked from that brook once they settled for the night. That way they could still replenish their own supply, should they need it the following day. Building a fire near the brook, they wound up camping beneath the stars another night, with the reeds swaying about them.

  Khrum and William had a little wash for themselves there, to clear away the cobwebs and, even more so, that unsavoury stink of sweat from their day’s travel. Noting that Icrick wasn’t too bothered on doing so, Khrum went off on a rant, telling him that he was beginning to pong so atrociously that he was starting to attract flies. Icrick wouldn’t give in. Grogoch’s like to think that their hair cleans itself over time...and so it does...but it takes an age, and even at that, they still reek something awful. Also, should a fly or three ever get lured to their niff, more often than not, the Grogochs end up growing rather partial to their company, chatting on occasion as the flies come and go. Disgusting, I quite agree. But that’s Grogochs for you. Tired of wasting his breath, Khrum left him alone, and they all sat back and had a rest.

  That evening was mild and quiet, and they indulged in a relaxing night of Uileann pipes. The sound was mythical and magical, as though the enchanted tune—so named “The Neamh of Evenings”—belonged with them, there in that moment, as a part of the magic and mystery which flowed beneath the stars to the very ends of Lythiann herself. It was calming, though courageous; powerful, yet gentle, and once Icrick laid those pipes to rest, they rested their own heads and eventually drifted into a night of uninterrupted sleep.

  Next day, they came upon the new region of Ràl Ahalà, a huge spread of sweeping heathland which was absolutely seething with a canopy of fresh purple heather. It was a slightly more taxing trek in comparison to the terrain of previous days, as the ground tended to rise and dip quite a bit. Nonetheless, the sun was out on yet another cloudless sky, and the house martins chirped alongside the warming coo of the nesting woodpigeons.

  The heathland pressed on for the better part of their day, while Icrick had his maps out for most of it. He really was quite efficient when it came to map-reading, for once in a while he would mention something specific, such as a landmark. Then, a little while later, they would unexpectedly stroll right up to it.

  On three separate occasions he did this. First he mentioned a primordial faerie ring, which they happened upon minutes before setting foot onto the heath. He then told them to keep their eyes peeled for the wise rock of Jum Rò. Lo and behold, William almost walked his face right into it whilst having his undivided focus set upon the head of his staff. For some reason he thought those amber eyes were fixated upon him, from, I suppose, the glistening of the sunlight that was reflecting off them. Spellbinding as it felt, William deduced that it was but a trick of the light, and nothing more.

  In any event, the rock of Jum Rò seemed to be a rather angular boulder, made of bronze stuff which bore some resemblance to a winged lady with her chin resting upon both fists. Legend said that the wise rock knew the answers to all questions. But when Khrum asked if there was any whisky nearby, the only answer he got was a thrush making its droppings onto his head.

  “Ho-ho! That’s a sign of good luck, so it is!” chuckled Icrick behind his paw.

  Mopping away the mess, the leprechaun grouched with a puss, “I know all about luck, lad, ‘n’ that’s far from it. Ara, lookit! There’s loads of it! Shmelly aul’ droppin’s all over me good cap. Blasht that feathered flute anyways! I’ll remember ya!” he yelled, wagging a threatening fist at the bird. “I’ll find your little neshteen someday ‘n’ do a big phlegmy one into it. We’ll see how ya like that!”

  Unscathed by the leprechaun’s crude remark, the little thrush swished off into the blue skies, chirping and twittering as merrily as could be.

  The last landmark mentioned by Icrick was a lake called Lough Margal, a frozen lake to
have supposedly never thawed. Unknown to most, the ice was actually penetrable, although any forced cavity would quickly freeze over again, despite the heat of the day. According to tale, within that lough there resided the helpful imp named Knitt, who welcomed any visitors. She was, of course, of the aquatic breed, and was infinitely protected by the ever-watchful eye of a notorious sentinel. Notorious to those of malignant ways, that is. It was told that the good folk of the world could swim invitingly through his lake, if ever they should find a way in, whereas if evil ever attempted to bathe within his waters, the sentinel would instinctively become aware and either swallow them whole or incinerate them using his dragon-like breath. Icrick was explaining all of this to the lad as they rested to have a quick snack, and William shivered more than once at the idea of that frightful sentinel, whatever breed of animal it may have been.

  * * *

  It was before dusk when they finally came upon this great lough, just as the last of the heathland was straying into the ranges of the north. To William, the lough didn’t appear all that magical or forbidden. It wasn’t even all that big, as far as lakes go. It was set within an icy basin, engulfed by higher ground, perished rock, and some frosted trees whose leaves were still in bloom. Travelling over the lake from one end to the other was a suspended wooden bridge. It didn’t look the sturdiest of structures, that bridge. But the lake was mere feet below, and supposedly of heavy ice, therefore falling from it certainly wouldn’t have meant to their death. A turned ankle, maybe.

  When they were through submersing themselves within the beauty of that sparkling lough, they decided to walk the bridge and set up camp once they made it across to the other side. Wouldn’t you know...Khrum had other ideas.