The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

by Brian G. Burke

“I have to get closer, Crosco,” William protested, although he would’ve gladly walked away, never to look back, had it not been for his mission. “In fact, I have to get inside! You can all stay here, if you prefer. I’ll try not to take too long. Just don’t go leaving! Especially you,” he said to Icrick, who he needed the most to be his guide.

  He was all set to move out from the bushes when a shocking howl rose up from close by. William paused; as quiet as silence itself. In response, another howl lifted from a different location, then another, and yet another followed after that. Cautiously as he could, William shrank back into the trees again.

  “Not goin’ in then?” Khrum grinned, who was actually just as nervous, but he didn’t let on.

  Then, “Shush,” said the others.

  Creeping from around from the rear of the tower, as though patrolling the grounds, was a set of glowing red eyes. Two more approached from the left, then three more from the darkness beneath the knoll, where a cave must’ve been, and wherein they were likely loitering.

  Lifting The Head in close to William, Crosco whispered, “Not foxes, not dogs...Devil Hounds! Dreaded dogs of night! We must not linger, for they do not need sight to catch us! They could sniff us out without any trouble at all! Let us leave, at once!”

  “Stop for a second. Let me think,” William whispered sharply, as turning around was just not an option. “Your family and friends aren’t on the line here. Mine are. And I need to get that sword.”

  “No, not my family and friends. But my neck is,” argued Crosco.

  “Fine choice o’ words there,” sniggered Khrum, prodding The Head.

  They all let out a quiet chuckle at this. Except, of course, for The Head, who found it very rude and insulting, and William, who was busy with his own problems. Even Ifcus and The Body gave a hint of a snigger while he wasn’t looking.

  Then the boy said, “I get that you’re scared, Crosco. This isn’t a great situation to be stuck in, by any means. Believe me! I got chased by a dog once...scared the snot out o’ me. But there’s no way I’m leaving here without that weapon.”

  “Fine!” The Head snapped, caring not a sausage for William’s civility. “But I’m staying here!”

  He tried being nice about it, only to get a snotty response, so William simply mimicked Crosco’s supercilious, “Fine...” and went back to planning his way into the tower.

  Just then he had a recollection, and said to himself, “Wait a second!”

  Removing his satchel, he sat against a tree and began rummaging through it, until he eventually displayed the box of truffles.

  Hesitantly nibbling his lip, he muttered, “Hmmm, I wonder...”

  Eagerly he popped the latch, and slowly opened the lid. Skimming his palm across the truffles, he pondered; thinking of whether he should or he shouldn’t. After a moment, he made up his mind, and was just about to reach for one, when...

  “Choose carefully!” Icrick suddenly blurted out.

  He was peeping over William’s shoulder, with his eyes absolutely bulging with inquisitiveness. Sitting back again, the lad gave it a second thought. Rubbing his chin, he examined the truffles even closer when, eventually, he decided to go with his gut and stick to his initial choice.

  As he cautiously unwrapped the truffle, the others slowly gathered ‘round to observe. Oh, how delicious it looked. Flakes of toffee-covered nuts sprinkled all over, and smothered in a thick layer of smooth milk chocolate. Ifcus couldn’t stop licking his lips. His drool was dripping out faster than he could swallow it.

  Holding the foil up to the moon, William then cleared his throat and began to read, quietly:

  The Selkie’s Gift

  This truffle comes in many pieces,

  Three or four, whichever’s needed.

  Thinking of another form,

  Another shape you shall be born.

  But keep it hush and do not tell,

  For if you do the spell will fail.

  Rolling his eyes, Khrum let out a tsk of frustration. Everyone else was otherwise gawking at one another, half-expecting someone to explain it.

  “What do you suppose that means?” asked Crosco, who was becoming interested again.

  “Not quite sure,” replied William. “It sounds like a riddle. Damn! And I was useless in school!”

  The boy went over the conundrum quietly to himself a few more times before he could make any kind of a stab at it.

  “Quickly now, laddie!” the leprechaun was saying. “The magic doesn’t lasht that long, remember.”

  “Yeah...I remember,” said the boy, still engrossed by the riddle. “Well, the spell can obviously change us into something else. Alter our form...like Girtìlboun back there. And that’d be just what we need to get past those hounds there. I presume the first bit o’ the rhyme means we can share it out, so all of us can use the magic. Don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about coming, Crosco?”

  It seemed that the horse was only waiting for his chance to sample that dreamy, silky chocolate. But his wishes were quickly shattered when the stubborn Head declined the offer, instead ordering himself to be put back in the saddle, away from the others. His pleasantness, it seemed, had changed ever since that little giggle they’d had at his expense.

  “We’ll go with ya, lad,” said Khrum, speaking for Icrick too, which made the Grogoch sweaty and anxious.

  “Great! To be honest, I wasn’t mad on the idea o’ going in there by myself! Thanks!” said the boy, breaking the truffle into three pieces.

  The middle was simply oozing with lush, mouth-watering caramel. It almost gave the horse heart failure, the forbidden deliciousness of it; so he was compelled to look away. Meanwhile, his salivating had formed a perfect puddle around his hooves.

  Icrick took his piece in his paw; Khrum took his bit in both hands, as it was quite large; and William kept a piece for himself. While awaiting further instruction, the silky centre was slowly inching its way down toward their fingers.

  “So, now what do we do?” asked Icrick, trembling.

  “Um...well...my understanding is,” William explained, “we eat first, and then we think hard about what it is we want to change ourselves into. Something clever. But keep it to yourself, or else it won’t work. At least...I think that’s what it means.”

  “Sounds about right ta me,” Khrum added, with a hungry smile on his face. “Ye ready ta tuck in so, lads?”

  Settling themselves, they each wiped their lips and got ready to indulge in that sweet milk chocolate.

  “Okay then. Here goes nothing!” said the boy.

  Tilting their heads back, they lowered the chocolate into their mouths. The caramel was so sticky and so incontestably sweet, and the milky cocoa texture was rich and creamy. Khrum’s eyes rolled around in his head and his cheeks were bulging with syrupy toffee. William had his eyes closed tightly amid concentrating on the spell at hand. Icrick was doing the same, but he was more afraid of exploding rather than considering his disguise. As all this was going on, Crosco and Ifcus just sat there, analysing them all, waiting for something to happen.

  Suddenly, William’s eyes shot open like a set of old blinds. For a second he was still, but then he began to tremble. Ifcus jumped with a start and put his peg over his eyes. He thought that something had gone terribly wrong.

  “Oh, here we go! More confounded shape-shifters!” whimpered The Head.

  William began to quiver more and more, such that Crosco thought his head was going to pop. Standing up before the moon, young William then stretched out like he was ripping his way from invisible restraints. Beside him Khrum was also beginning to rattle, and Icrick had kicked off, too. Poor Crosco was starting to feel terrified and alone at that point. He knew not what would come of it all.

  Throwing back his head, William discharged a beastly snarl, followed by a tremendous howl. It almost forfeited their position, but the Devil Hounds presumed it was one of their own, thereby proceeding to nose about in the night. Grotty black hairs sproute
d from William’s arms and legs. The hair on his head was now growing rapidly past his ears, which in turn were also sprouting to a point. His teeth stretched to fangs, and his eyes gazed inhumanely with an intense redness. Falling onto all fours, he remained with growling breaths in the form of what he’d chosen...a Devil Hound. His ruby eyes rose up to meet Crosco, who was sneaking off into the trees with the horse on his back.

  “And where do you think you’re off to?” asked William, still with his own voice.

  Doing an about-turn, Crosco stuttered, “N-N-Nowhere!”

  When he saw William glaring at him, in the condition he was in, poor Crosco didn’t know what to say nor how to act.

  “Don’t worry,” William said cordially, “it’s still me.”

  Suddenly there came a rustle to William’s right. And there, shaking its leaves, was a little fern.

  Shaking his head, the lad said, “Now, who could that be, I wonder?”

  “All I could think of was where I wanted to hide,” shivered the bush.

  Yes, it was good old Icrick himself. Then, to William’s left he heard a rattle and a clink. He glanced down and was dumfounded, and not in a good way. For, next to him, was a bottle of wine with a brown hat, a mouth, and a big ginger beard.

  “I don’t believe this,” said William, sighing. “Could ye not’ve thought o’ something a bit better than a bush and a...a bottle o’ drink, by the looks of it! How do you suppose that’s going to get ye past these dogs?”

  “Well, if I can somehow get all liquored up by the time they catch me, then I’ll have the death of a leprechaun king,” the bottle replied with a fine smile.

  “Oh, come on so,” grumbled William, who wasn’t very pleased about this at all.

  He wasn’t exactly perfect either, still clad in his garments; all twisted about, with the sporran on his back and the satchel by his foreleg. But it was better than nothing. So, picking up the shrub in his teeth, he placed it into the satchel with its leaves sticking out, and he put the bottle into his sporran with its neck poking out the top. The remainder of their supplies were left in the care of the Dullahan, before they ventured silently out from the wood to start cautiously towards the tower.

  “If you’re so high ‘n’ mighty, then what did ya hope ta achieve by turnin’ into a Devil Hound? A Devil Hound in a kilt, might I add!” asked the bottle.

  “It’s the only thing I could think of!” whispered William. “Now be quiet! I’ll need my wits about me if I want to avoid these hounds! So no interruptions!”

  “One more thing though! Icrick,” Khrum questioned, “jusht wonderin’, but why didn’t ya jusht turn invisible rather than puttin’ yourself through all the stress o’ transformin’? For a second there, I thought ya were goin’ ta have a fit.”

  “I am invisible!” rustled a transparent bulge from within the satchel.

  “Be quiet!” William ordered.

  “Sorry...” answered the bottle.

  William noticed how the other hounds were behaving; sniffing the ground and prowling around suspiciously in the shadows. So he did the same, while trying his best to keep his distance. ‘Round they went, to the south side of the tower, where a lower level of ground eventually ascended up to the tower gate itself. Slowly and vigilantly they skulked, while keeping to the fuller bushes on their right.

  In what little time he had to do so, William studied every last minor movement of the other hounds with intricate detail. He hoped that all they could see of him were his eyes and not the bottle, the bush, or his strange attire. He would’ve preferred that they couldn’t see any of them at all, but that was just wishful thinking.

  As they progressed, Icrick was growing restless.

  His leaves started to rustle, and gaining any unsolicited attention was not what William wanted, so he whispered, “Shhh!”

  With that shush, a hound suddenly peered out from behind the castle with his nose up high. William went still as a rock when those red eyes started to glare nearby. It was only then that he realised how he himself could see very clearly in the dark and, that they too, could probably see him just as well. His heart felt like it was going to pop as it drum-drum-drummed in his chest, alongside an onslaught of flooding panic. Dropping his head like a lion, the hound crept shiftily toward William. What was the lad to do? Alarm bells were ringing in his head as the beast drew ever closer. Thus, the young fellow acted on the very first thing that came to mind.

  Sniffing about in the shrubs he raised his hind leg. He didn’t know what on earth he was doing it for. It just seemed like something a hound would do. He hoped that the other curious chap might have a bit of courtesy and leave him to it.

  “What in the name of all the saints are ya at?” whispered Khrum in a frenzy.

  “I have no idea! Just shut up, will you!” William snarled, with his leg trembling from the strain of holding it aloft.

  Lo and behold, the other Devil Hound stopped, lingered briefly, then turned around and went back the way it came. They all let out some sigh of relief when he did; particularly William, who found it rather difficult to lower his leg after all that.

  “Oh, dear! That was far too close for comfort!” quivered the ghostly fern. “You weren’t really piddling there...were you?”

  “Five seconds more and I would’ve been,” answered William, before proceeding on.

  The tower gate wasn’t all that far away, but the journey to get there felt like hours; constantly pausing and creeping, and lurking and sniffing. Eventually they made it and just in time, too, because when William was nudging on the great wooden doors to open them, he could feel the sticky sensation of grass both between his skinny fingers and below his bare knees, too. In glancing down he saw that the black, doglike hairs were sinking back into his skin, thereby revealing his true boyish exterior. After which he saw that the wine bottle had sprouted arms, whereas the now visible bush had developed two traumatized eyeballs. They were all changing back to normal.

  Evasively as he could, William shoved the door open with his hands, trying his utmost not to cause too much of a stir. In spite of his delicacy, the hinges creaked and groaned as the Grogoch and the leprechaun shushed the noises, like it would somehow suppress the racket.

  Fortunately, they soon made it inside unnoticed, and William shut the doors securely behind them. They were in. But whether that was a good thing or not, you will soon find out.

  - Chapter Eleven -

  Stronghold of Sin

  “Hellooo?” asked Icrick’s voice.

  It was absolutely pitch, not unlike Brookweir.

  “Where are you?” asked William.

  One after another, six torches suddenly combusted into flame in the corridor ahead of them.

  This long hallway had a high, arched roof, riddled with cobwebs and dust. Hanging from the midst of the ceiling were some rusted old torture cages; residing therein were the remains of those who had once attempted to reclaim the tower’s treasure, yet failed. But the mystery of who actually put them there was a matter more disturbing, rousing William’s wits to a higher level of vigilance. Bracing themselves, they carried on.

  At the end of this long corridor, upon an altar in the main hall, a green strand of light was shimmering upwards, out of sight. It could be heard sparkling and crackling through the silence as though electrical, while it flickered left to right in a slight candlelight motion.

  Along the wall to their right were the torches which seemed to just blaze up upon their entry. Each was held by a hideous, bronze talon. Between them were pilasters, whereupon demented images were engraved, stories of torture, and death, and sadness. These morbid decorations continued on past the corridor and, as William crouched, he could see them leading up the stairway of the main hall, with each depiction having a different horror unfolding from the next.

  Uneasily he scouted on, with his hand out before him, clearing the cobwebs from his way. There were lots of brown, furry spiders scuttling along them, then vanishing into cracks in the wal
ls. Big, grisly ones, about the size of your hand. William could hear the clicking of their pincers as they scampered about and lurked from within their holes.

  “Oh, I don’t like this!” shivered the Grogoch. “Not the slightest little bit!”

  “Me neither, sure,” Khrum put in. “Chewin’ on roots in the Sadness o’ the Grollo never seemed so appealin’.”

  “I don’t like this either,” William admitted. “But I need to find that sword. And just so ye know, thanks for coming in with me. I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “Wish I could say I was happy ta help. But in this present situation, it’d be a right fib!” said Khrum, as he surveyed for threats.

  “I don’t blame you.” William tried to smile. “So...does anyone know where the sword is exactly?”

  To his dismay, neither of them knew. So they were left to face the murky dreariness, unaided, and with little knowledge of what lay within...

  The hallway was cold and gloomy as the breeze flowed by the walls like a lamenting wraith, swooping and gliding past them every so often, making the cobwebs flutter. Other noises rang, too, noises which paralyzed them in their steps, like that of distant growls elsewhere in the tower. They would at first grow, and then suddenly die back into the shadows. Minutes later, they returned from elsewhere, only to simmer back into emptiness again. Nor was it the cry of a beast, for that sound is unmistakeable. It was more like a person, crying with drawn-out howls after they’d suddenly fallen from the lip of their psychological brink into madness. Aside from this rather disconcerting occurrence, however, the tower seemed abandoned. And those demented cries were but momentary and remote, thus not of their immediate concern.

  When they arrived at the end of the hall and reached the main keep, the altar awaited. How grotesque it was; being assembled from skull, bone, and actual living organs. They cringed at its appearance as they stared grudgingly at the foul periphery of beating hearts which lined the base of its chalky skeletal rim. Its panels were nailed with lines of heaving lungs, all in some manner of satanic embellishment. In its centre pattern, everything was conjoined by a throbbing, interwoven net of azure and garnet-coloured arteries, the sodden sounds of which were truly hellish to suffer.