The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

by Brian G. Burke

  Panic moved them quickly, for fear of getting caught and, most probably, eaten. They stomped over thorns and sludge, and all sorts of repulsive, foul stuff. William could feel the breeze from the outside world, when, just up ahead, he spied an opening; the end of the forest, hills, and twilight. Nevertheless, those creatures were catching up.

  All of a sudden, one of them wrapped his slithery hands around Crosco’s boot and yanked him back with considerable force. But Ifcus wasn’t going to let this fiend take his comrade. Not a chance. So he champed down hard on his fingers, forcing the beast to let go with a shrill, writhing scream. William then blasted out of that burrow like he’d been doing it for years, and the rest tumbled out straight after him.

  “What was wrong with ye?!” he panted, trying to catch his breath. “Ye almost gave me a heart attack!”

  “There were things...vile creatures!” Icrick gasped, who was also robbed of his wind.

  From inside the tunnel, they noticed a pale face gazing out at them. It lingered momentarily before dying back into the depths of within with a thin and spiteful hiss.

  They were being chased by Roògles. Demon men. Burrowers who dwelt within the deeper parts of the world. It was they who had turned the travellers into trees, because if you ever get bitten or scraped by a Roògle, you’d become the very substance of the forest, and so driven to live out eternity in darkness. If William and the others had only realised what they’d obliviously overlooked at the beginning of that forest; an entire legion of knights who had been heading to battle from the west. Alas, upon their journey through the trees, these knights were caught by the Roògles and, ever since, had to suffer the misery of their spell. Regrettably, never had anyone dared re-enter the forest to break its curse. Nor, is it likely, anyone ever will.

  After that desperate struggle through the setts they were in awful shape, labouring to regain their breath. They weren’t out of danger yet, though. True, the outside world wasn’t far, but after that little scenario, this forest had shown enough potential for them to wonder about what could be hiding in the remainder of it. All but one of them, that is.

  “Let us sally forth!” Crosco told his Body.

  Jumping to his feet, William implored, “No! Crosco. Wait for—”

  “No time for it,” interrupted The Head. “The sooner we get out of this hellhole, the better!”

  Confidently, with his chin up, he trudged past the others. But he hadn’t gotten ten feet when all of a sudden, he started to sink.

  “Aw, what now?” moaned William.

  “Help!” The Head squeaked, with Ifcus flailing around on his back, trying to get off.

  They had, of course, strolled right into a pond of quicksand.

  “Help! Help! Get me out!” cried The Head, with The Body clawing wildly at the heavy earth on the brink.

  In a fluster, Icrick cried, “Toss your head out, at least.”

  “Good idea.” William nodded, reaching out. “Here! Give it to me.”

  “Okay, okay! Here!” said The Head, passing himself out to William. “What now?”

  “That’ll do. See ya,” Khrum waved.

  “WHAT?!” shrieked Crosco.

  “He-he, only coddin’,” the leprechaun chuckled. “Listen, I seen this happen to a cow years ago. Just don’t shtruggle. That’s the worsht thing ya can do. The more ya kick, the fashter ya sink. Hey, that rhymes.”

  “That’s true, actually. I read about it,” said William, searching about in the trees for something of use. “The movement sucks you down or something. Hold on, I’ll get something to pull you out. Don’t move.”

  In an honest attempt to console his other half, The Head whinged, “Try not to struggle, old chap. We shall have you out in a jiffy.”

  Meanwhile, William was traipsing about, scavenging amongst the trees, when eventually he found a large vine which he yanked down for some slack.

  “Here, grab onto this!” he shouted, tossing it out to The Body.

  “Oh, good lad! Thank you,” Crosco sighed.

  “Don’t thank me yet. We still have to pull you out.”

  Now, you have to remember that they were trying to lift the weight of a tall man, suited in heavy armour...and his stallion. Not a sack of old spuds.

  Lining up, one after another like a tug of war, they each grabbed the rope. William was first, then dangled Khrum, with Icrick last, and they tugged with all of their might. They tugged, and pulled, and heaved, and Crosco was slowly escaping the clutches of that pesky quicksand. Harder and harder they hauled. Their teeth were grinding, while veins bulged from their foreheads. Yet, what Icrick didn’t notice, was that he was backing right up to the burrow again and, with a sharp hiss, a pair of skinny arms lunged out at him from the inside. Nobody was prepared for what happened next...

  The Grogoch jumped high with terror (just in time, too, for he let go of the vine. But the Dullahan was mostly back on land then), and out of complete traumatic dread, he ripped out the loudest ripple of flatulence that anyone had ever heard. It spluttered out, rattling the shrubs, and the creature quickly scampered back into its hole with a string of yelps.

  Pulling his collar up over his nose, Khrum instructed, “Quick! Everyone! Cover your mouths!”

  With not a moment to squander, they cupped their hands over their faces as its windy resonance sank into the deep, forcing the bickering talk of the forest to moan in retort. Khrum suggested that they wait a moment for the air to clear. Little Icrick otherwise sat there, exhausted from his gassy explosion. Soon, the minute passed.

  “I’d say it’s safe enough now!” said the leprechaun, testing the air with a sniff.

  Taking away his hands, William sniggered, and said, “What was that all about?”

  “Grogochs, lad!” Khrum replied. “It’s a defensive reaction they have, like their invisibility! If somethin’ comes threatenin’ them...BANG! They get blown ta Kingdom come by the mosht rotten shmellin’ foulness ya’ve ever come across!”

  “I do apologize!” said Icrick, and blushed. “Sometimes it just happens and I can’t control it!”

  “Well, it worked, didn’t it?” William said, happy that they were all safe again.

  After that little episode, they were certain that the only obstacle left to undertake was that pit of quicksand, so testing its distance was imperative. This was appointed to Crosco, as he was undoubtedly the strongest.

  Picking up some rocks, he began flinging them out into the sand, to discover that every one of them sank, thereby suggesting that the pit stretched right through the trees, right up to the very ends of the forest. With nothing else for it, they climbed up through the awkward branches above and moved from tree to tree until they eventually reached the forest’s end that way.

  Inhabiting those trees were red squirrels, crows, and little shadow faeries, all of whom were examining them as they clambered by. Crosco looked especially odd to them, with him carrying a horse and such. At any rate, it took some time, but they soon made it out.

  Oh, how good it felt for them to be back outside in the great, wide world once again. That, however, remained the start of this long night, which still had in store for them even further surprises, much more gruesome in nature than that of Brookweir Forest. For there were many mysterious woodlands within Lythiann’s reaches that housed even deadlier, more sinister beings, let alone the tower of Thérn itself.

  - Chapter Ten -

  Twisty Cups

  It felt like it was late that evening when they escaped the Roògles, and the dark of night had clouded over Lythiann. Nor at this point did the tower appear to be all that far away, for its spire seemed to ever grow by the moderate advancement of their weary steps.

  William suggested that they should just make for the tower as hastily as they could, then get in, grab that sword, and get out again, all in one fell swoop. At least it would be one less thing off his worried mind. Of course, he requested their opinions on this plan, and they could but concur. It was about the best one the
y could conjure. Aside from the fact that this stratagem seemed somewhat basic and actually rather frighteningly to the point, they were otherwise far too anxious and bewildered by the sight of the dreaded place to so much as even attempt to fabricate anything better.

  While they mulled over his proposal, Crosco remained at their tail, silent, not saying a word about it; hesitant in what he truly wished to impart about that horribly wretched tower: That it was simply evil.

  Tiredness had also passed them at that point. They were moving on instinct, and sapped of all energy. None of them could say exactly how long they’d been stuck in Brookweir, or what day it actually was. All that they were aware of was that it was early night, going by the tellings of the moon.

  During his previous nightly ventures through the land of Lythiann, William had come to notice a rather strange lunar behaviour. It never seemed to just appear through the dusk like any normal moon does. Instead, it grew from something no bigger than a star, and it grew very large at that. Had one actually taken a night off to sit there and fixate upon it, like watching paint dry, they would actually see it expanding. Hence, the greater the moon, the later the time.

  William had been a trifle worried, hoping that no lunar eclipse had come and gone during his time spent with the Rooglés. Icrick reassured him all the same, telling him that he need not fret, because the land was still. William asked what the Grogoch meant by this. Icrick explained that, had the eclipse actually arrived while they were burrowing away, there would have been a barrage of enemies flooding throughout the land at that very moment and, if not that, they would have undoubtedly been able to hear them growling on wind, somewhere from afar. Strangely thankful of that somewhat comforting yet disturbing information, William cleared his mind of any thoughts that could worry him needlessly. So they trudged on, with the moon now being monumental in size as it shone behind the treetops of the eastern hills.

  It felt like they’d been walking for miles and making hardly any progress, given how the tower appeared farther off than they’d previously imagined. And for that whole journey, they were being annoyed by bothersome flies, too. Icrick’s flies, no doubt. They buzzed by their ears and zipped about their heads, stirring a great discomfort amongst the group which, obviously, was an irritation they could’ve done without. Khrum was up on William’s shoulder, and he kept on complaining about it to himself, hoping that Icrick would hear him, take the hint, and call the flies off. Grumpy little Khrum would have lashed out with a swing and knocked one of them to the ground, if only he could see them quick enough. But it was just too dark, and they were far too swift. He could hear them nevertheless, charging by his face every so often, and catching him completely off guard every time. Now and then, even William would bend over and spit because one of them had skimmed past his mouth, and the notion of fly legs on his lips was quite revolting.

  Icrick plodded cross-country quite cheerfully, not being irritated in the least. The Head, however, was getting it worst of all, because he could not help his glimmering, as you well know, and the flies were attracted to his face like moths to a flame. Throughout that entire trip he kept his eyes fastened and was puffing air up into his face, in an effort to clear them away. It was a terribly uncomfortable time for all of them. Still, nobody wanted to speak out and hurt Icrick’s feelings. Although, if it was to be anyone at all, they presumed it would have been Crosco, seeing as he proved to be very forthright and even rude at times.

  They were too enveloped within their own tired thoughts to comprehend what had happened, when the inevitable finally landed with a jolt. A great whoosh drove by the back of Khrum’s head and almost put his eyes out through his ears with shock.

  Thus, in standing high, with his face seeping to a devilishly furious red, he took a deep breath and yelled as loudly as his tiny lungs would allow: “ICRICK! GET THESE DAMN FLIES OUTTA MY FACE!”

  Well! The Grogoch nearly sprang from his fur when a screech suddenly erupted from out of nowhere, screaming his name. You can also rest assured that Khrum’s yell was so strident that everybody else leapt to attention too.

  “Whatever are you raving on about?” Icrick snapped, being somewhat temperamental after getting a fright.

  Everybody then stopped to heed the commotion; granted, they were thankful of the break because their legs felt like jelly from all the walking.

  “Those flies o’ yours!” barked Khrum. “Either have a wash...or swat them. One or the other, boy! ‘Coz if one more goes by my ears, I swear, I’ll bite its little head off!”

  “Oh, shut up, you lousy little fungus. My flies are here where they belong!” snapped Icrick.

  And sure enough, there they were, whizzing ‘round his head as always.

  “Then...what are these things?” asked The Head, still blowing here and there.

  Ducking and dodging, and swatting his ears, William said, “Who knows? But never mind them for now. That tower isn’t too far away. The quicker we get there, the sooner it will be before we get rid o’ these damned insects.”

  Grouchily they proceeded across the fields whereon they were now travelling. Icrick kept trying to get an apology out of Khrum for what he’d said, but the leprechaun just kept saying, “No! No! No!” short and sharp, like some temperamental three-year-old.

  A few yards ahead of their course, there was a hedge which ran down south toward the ancient lands. Nobody would risk travelling those parts, not even in the early days, and certainly not for all the riches in the world, what with folk disappearing there for no good reason. The earth was believed cursed, and that it would swallow you up if you ever tried.

  Near the beginning of the hedge they found a gap to climb through. Just to the left of it, another hedgerow was running parallel to their trajectory, behind which was light woodland that gradually augmented until it filled the forest land of Crannùch in the north.

  Crannùch was a friendly enough place for the most part, yet it was also very wide and very deep, which meant that anyone could easily get lost in there. Furthermore, in its innermost territories dwelt the Scahaì, dwarf animals of the flora, with long, branch-like arms, and heads as small as acorns. Mischievous little scoundrels. Always hiding in amongst the bushes and watching out for lost travellers so that they could ambush them and thieve their teeth to make necklaces.

  It just goes to show that not all tooth faeries are full of kindness and gifts. Actually, the Scahaì were the ones who were banished from the order of the tooth faerie, because they filched the teeth for themselves, never once leaving gifts behind in exchange. The stories said that the faerie king—King Lìnn—cursed them to the deep forests where, over the ages, they ended up evolving into dark, demented faeries of the growth. So now you know, if your tooth is ever replaced by something nice, you’re being watched over by the good-natured magic of the world. Whereas if you never once got anything in return for a tooth, then the Scahaì will have you on their list. So beware.

  The ground was very sludgy and soft where they lumbered, having been freshly uprooted by some manner of nomadic grazing animals which, I suppose, had moved on of late. Likewise they were still getting bothered all the more by those pesky flies. Owing to this, Khrum was on the brink of yet another flare-up, when suddenly, he was silenced.

  “Shhh!” said Crosco, his eyes zipping about.

  “What’s wrong now?” they asked, waving their hands about their faces.

  “Do you not hear that?” he asked.

  Pricking up their ears, they each had a good listen. It turned out they could hear something; sounds of a skirmish in the distance. They recognised the clashing of steel upon steel, and terrible cries of bravery and pain.

  “Sounds like a battle, lads,” Khrum stated, rolling up his sleeves, as though by some far-fetched means he was going to challenge the entire battlefield by himself.

  But before he could hop to the ground, something happened which completely caught them all by surprise.

  The very flies which were whizzing by their h
eads quickly brightened up to a pulsating red. Yelling like miniature warriors, they then zoomed over the hedge, where a luminescence of magenta was in the air. Icrick feared the worst, and he was right. They weren’t flies at all. They were Garden Faeries of the Fiú, who’d been secretly returning to battle after obtaining new orders from back west. Scouts most likely. No wonder they were so attached to our heroes all that time, which was a smart concept, when you think about it. What rival faerie would dare search for them amongst a band of misfits like William and the others? None, that’s how many.

  Quickly and carefully they pursued the lights to the hedge, where they glanced over to see what was going on, only to uncover the mystery of that bright glow.

  “Ah, now!” groaned Icrick, slapping his furry paw onto his eyes. “A faerie battle!”

  There, in the very next field, was a great battlefield of faeries. Hundreds and thousands of red and blue lights were shooting around the field in conflict, all hovering just high of the barley that was cultivated within. It was very difficult to see exactly what was going on, but they could hear it when they listened closely.

  Cry and growl, scrape and grunt, went the fight. To William and the others it sounded kind of harmless and quiet. To the faeries themselves, it would’ve been a total massacre.

  “Look at the size of it!” gasped the Grogoch, noticing how the battle went well out of their path.

  Then, only a few fields across the way, over an old oak wood and a hill lined with birch trees, was the faint silhouette of the tower’s crown. It was fairly close after all.

  “Well, I’m fresh out of ideas,” said the Grogoch.

  Drawing his hood and pulling his cloak in tightly, William said, “Lookit. There’s the tower. We’re nearly there. Let’s just run through it, and that’ll be that.”