The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

by Brian G. Burke

  None of this abysmal wilderness affected the man’s progress or mobility, even in spite of his blindness. It appeared that he knew those trees only too well. Briskly he paced on ahead, all the while stepping over fallen trunks and ducking under low branches, just like a man with unflawed vision might do. Occasionally he would stop, if just for an instant, and feel around him, or touch a certain tree trunk, or smell the air, or perhaps taste his fingers after touching a leaf. Then he would quickly move again.

  William was quite intrigued by Redmun’s proficiency, though he did not mention anything of it to Redmun himself, who was reminding them every so often, “Keep to my steps! For there are many hazardous areas about.”

  All William could otherwise think about was how to get out of that place without causing any offence. As you may very well remember, he was advised to stay away from Redmun by Anun herself, and he was on the verge of doing just that. But the fact that this man had saved him from Valstarius was also playing on his mind. So I think you can agree that he was, indeed, in somewhat of a dilemma.

  As he pondered this, the Grogoch was waddling along beside Wren, and he was watching Redmun very closely and with little trust. Khrum was behind him, strolling along as normal, whistling, with the occasional skip. Hobbling last in line was good old Ifcus. He had been forced to hobble behind his master, for while he was on Crosco’s back, his ears kept on getting nipped by the many snappy flytraps that were growing upon the drooping branches of the more obscure-looking trees. But the horse didn’t mind rambling along, and Crosco’s shoulders heartily welcomed the rest, too.

  As they journeyed farther into the jungle, they noticed, through the gaps in the trees, that strange lamps were burning. They weren’t quite lanterns as such, as these lights were set in cages, like something you would house a canary in. These birdcages were crammed with many half-melted candlesticks, both fat and thin, which delivered an overly generous amount of luminosity to their trail ahead. As well as that, they were placed in no particular fashion throughout; just set in random points. Considering the man’s impaired vision, it was unknown to them as to what the lamps were actually for, or who had lit them in the first place, as they seemed to be kindling fresh. Yet their queries were soon laid to rest when, in the trees overhead, they heard a squawk. Then out sprang a spotted, ring-necked pheasant with a skinny candle in his beak. Shaking out the flame, he flew in beside Redmun and continued on by foot by his master’s side.

  “Very good, Ostly. Much obliged,” said the man respectfully, as he reached into his pouch and dowsed out a handful of crumbs for the bird.

  Clearly he’d lit those lamps to benefit those who could not rely upon their other senses to guide them. Quite necessary they were at that, for the jungle was beginning to darken quite rapidly the deeper the band ventured.

  They continued on until they happened upon the bank of that muddy river. Which, might I add, was bordered with bull reeds; a fine habitat for bothersome midges. By now the muscles in their legs were aching beyond the frontiers of exertion, and Wren was there, picking little critters out of her hair which, I assume, must have jumped on board from the branches above; weaver ants, to be more precise. Little prickly characters that would happily nip away at you for just being too big and clumsy.

  The river was extremely broad, yet it didn’t appear to be flowing all that much...if at all. However, the raft that was secured to a stake not far from them seemed to be getting hauled somewhat downstream by way of some enigmatic current. Upon both banks, the trees bowed their heads to this majestic river, almost with their branches dabbling in the passing tide, and they continued to do so the whole way downstream, as far as William could see.

  “Come along!” said the man, stepping onto the raft, with the pheasant perched upon his shoulder.

  To William, the raft appeared far from sturdy, having been lashed together with filthy old rope and brittle logs. Then again, he felt that they had no real choice in the matter. So uneasily they all stepped on, one after the next, as carefully and as delicately as possible.

  Surprisingly enough, it actually held their weight quite well, granted its buoyancy remained to be questioned, especially with Crosco and Ifcus weighing down one corner of it. William was at least thankful that Jimzin wasn’t there. Being as stubborn as he was, he probably would’ve wanted to travel on the raft too, which would’ve been a preposterous notion, to say the least. But how does one say no to a dragon?

  They drifted slowly down the long river, being languidly steered by the gradually flowing current. Within the jungle around them, the woodpeckers hammered in intervals, and the leaping lemurs pogoed through the scrub aside the riverbank as if on springs. Then, every so often, a bizarrely transparent dorsal fin of considerable size would drag by the side of the raft, while the remainder of its form was dimly obscured by the sheer cloudiness of the muddy water. It would then submerge for a spell before returning again.

  Every time she witnessed it, Wren tugged upon William’s sleeve and pointed as if fearful of it, thereby denying just how fiery she may have wanted to appear to him in the past. As she was waiting for that odd fish to reappear, her face was etched with such comical mistrust that William almost smiled. But he, too, wondered about the creature’s intent, as even Redmun seemed to regard it with some manner of routine caution. Nevertheless, it soon visited less and less until it was eventually gone.

  Time pressed on, to the point where all novelty of that rainforest had waned to their lethargic spirits. After the events of that testing night they were extremely exhausted, yet still mildly apprehensive about whether the trouble had yet concluded or not. Nobody really spoke, either, don’t you know. Particularly Redmun, who had come across as being somewhat of a recluse.

  Their dismal rafting trip had ended just shy of a moderate left bend in the river, and they approached a small wooden dock upon the eastern bank.

  “We are here,” said the man, stepping onto the dock.

  Securing the raft to a post nearby, he then made for a clearing in the trees.

  “Um...hang on a second,” said William, jumping from the raft and catching up to the man. “Listen, we’re really grateful that you saved us from that creature, we really are! But...we can’t stay here! I can’t stay here! I have something important I need to do, and I have to get it done as soon as we can.”

  “I know what you have to do, boy,” Redmun replied. “You are heading to the canyons of Lòr to slay the beast, Drevol Briggun...”

  William wasn’t completely sure what to say to this, because the man wasn’t wrong.

  “I have been waiting for you,” said Redmun, resting the sack on his shoulder that he’d been carrying since the Gremlin arena. “You have been expected here in my realm for quite some time now.”

  “I’ve been expected? But...” William hesitated.

  “But?” Redmun asked.

  “But I was told by s-someone that, when I set out on this journey, I was to avoid a man. A man named...well...named Redmun...”

  “Is that so?” the man asked with interest. “And who told you this?”

  William didn’t know if he should say anything at all when the Grogoch waddled up to his side with a hint of expression, as if to say, “Tell this man nothing!”

  “Just a-a-a friend,” the lad so stuttered.

  “Well...boy...if I recall correctly, I just saved your life,” Redmun stated, with a hard mouth. “So you owe me the courtesy of your company for at least a while! But do not fear; you being here is for a reason. You’re here to learn.”

  Upon those words, he ducked under the trees and stole onto an overgrown woodland trail.

  “Learn? Learn what? From you? Who said?” William called out after the man.

  “The prophecies said!” replied Redmun, as he vanished into the depths of the jungle.

  Heeding that response, William reflected upon what the old Elf woman told him back in the Grollo about obeying his intuitions and following the prophecies. It was that precis
e memory which played a part in William’s reason for not leaving Làn Cùrdhal that night. Intrigue had its hold on him, despite his anxiety. Thus, they followed the man into the deep darkness of that jungle trail.

  More time had passed, and the coming sunlight conveyed new visibility to the floor beneath the canopy. Eventually, they arrived at a wide-open glade, surrounding which were trees of many types and sizes, whose brawny buttress roots slithered all around the grounds like natural, wavering confines. Three buildings occupied that glade and one more just yonder, behind a protrusion of majestic bamboos. In the centre of the glade was a long log cabin, slated, with two crooked chimneys poking up either end. It had an odd shape to it, such that it sloped quite low near the back, at a forty-five degree angle. None of them imagined that it would have been very spacious inside, with such an extreme tilt cutting through it. Outside the front of this cabin, meandering along a terrace, were more of those caged lamps, along with two rocking chairs aside a small, wooden table. This, of course, was Redmun’s abode; warmly hidden away from the dangers of outer Lythiann.

  To the left of that cabin, pointing westward, was an even smaller cabin. It was erected in much the same respect as the first, only it didn’t run quite as far, and had less of a slope going through it. Just opposite it, on the farther side of the glade, was a quaint little shed. Then, behind Redmun’s dwelling, beyond the bamboos, was another dell, and in this dell was a lonely old barn. This was the entirety of Redmun’s base. Four solitary buildings and a mass of deep jungle at his doorstep. It was then no surprise to William that he detained such hermitic attributes, evidently being the only human to wander in such a magnificent, yet equally lonesome, kingdom.

  Making for the shed, Redmun then said, “Follow me.”

  When they got inside, a rather small iron furnace was burning in the corner, delivering a welcoming gush of heat to their bones, remedying their yearning desire for some small manner of comfort. A woollen blanket was spread out upon the counter before them, and Redmun lit a lantern above it. It was rather grimy in that shed, being cluttered with rusty old tools, boxes of nails, pails, saws, shovels, and other utensils of that sort. Just like any other shed, really.

  Placing the sack gently onto the table, the man unwrapped it. As he did, they all peered over his shoulders to see what was inside. Then, from out of the bundle, there crawled the most curious little creature. ‘Twas that same little fellow Redmun had rescued from the Gremlins of late. It was a breed of Poppum.

  William had to giggle when he saw it at first, because it was the cutest, funniest, most adorable-looking thing he’d encountered since Picksy Whispin. Its domed head was fluffy and grey in colour, complete with pointy ears which poked out on either side. One of them flopped down, and the other had a tiny notch taken out of it. In contrast to the rest of his features, his eyes were massive. Big, bulbous, and hazel, with little black pupils in the centre of each. When he glanced around, they could see the faint whiteness of his eyes, which merely augmented his adorability all the more. And whenever he blinked, he would do it in such a way that one eyelid would follow the other, being never quite in unison. His snout was constantly bobbing about, and his cheeks were full and plump. Other than that, his body was small and fleecy, with stumpy arms, a pot belly, fat little legs and a tiny, curly tail.

  You must also understand that Poppums were very easy prey in their time. So, as a defence mechanism, they developed folds of skin which joined their wrists to their ankles, much the same as a flying squirrel. If the moment ever required it, and threat ever arose, they would flap up into the trees, where they would remain until it was safe to come out again. Indeed, they could fly, but they couldn’t do so for very long before they got exhausted. They have no magic about them otherwise, as such. And not often can Poppums be spotted in Ireland nowadays, needless to say. But I can wholeheartedly assure you...they’re there, hiding all around us in lofty places, away from the commotion and cruelties of this new and malicious world that we now call home.

  This poor little Poppum was still shivering from the threat of being devoured by those ghastly labyrinth beasts. Moreover, the rope which bound him had been drawn so tightly about his arms that it had broken the skin, causing a nasty graze upon his left shoulder.

  “Aw, look at you!” smiled Wren, doting dearly upon the little fellow. “Poor little thing!!”

  In spite of his wound, the Poppum simply waggled his little tail like a puppy, ears back, then he coiled ‘round and ‘round until he was lying flat on his side, exposing his belly for a scratch. When he did this his nose bobbled, while emitting an endearing little squeaking sound.

  Hovering in nearer to observe, The Head scowled, “A bit rodenty-looking, isn’t he?”

  “Nah, he’s a cute little thing,” William said, tickling the Poppum’s fluffy little ear for him. “What is he, exactly?”

  Gathering some ointments and gauze from one of the shelves, Redmun replied, “He is what’s known as a Poppum. The simplest, most uncomplicated creature in the world, anatomically speaking. Bred, nurtured, and run on pure heart alone. They make even the dullest of worms look complicated. He is the last of his kind, and you can thank the Gremlins for that!”

  “Ya mean...they wiped them all out?” Khrum asked, with major disgust.

  “Yes, unfortunately,” said the man, tipping some ointment into the swab. “You see, Gremlins prefer using Poppums for their sports, for they cannot bear the purity and goodness of these creatures...being the filthy scum that they are! And I’ve been searching for this particular Poppum for quite some time now. I was hoping to seek him out before they did, in an attempt to possibly preserve their race for a time longer and, perhaps, determine a means of ultimately maintaining their existence.”

  Finally conjuring the civility to speak in the man’s presence, Icrick asked, “And how exactly would you go about doing that, might I ask?”

  “I have some theories of hybridizing that could very well take a promising effect. So, with further time, further research, and further reckonings, I should be able to achieve my goals.”

  “Well, does he have a name then? Or need I ask?” The Head inquired, and Ifcus leaned in a tad closer to give this Poppum a bit of a curious sniff.

  “No, my friend. Like you, I have only just met him,” Redmun replied, dabbing the Poppum’s final wounds with familiar precision.

  With their conversation ongoing, Icrick, being nosy again, had taken it upon himself to inspect a pile of dusty burlap which had been strewn upon the floor nearby. In lifting it up, a great whiff of dust went zipping straight up into his nostrils. Icrick then gasped sharply thrice before rasping out a tremendous Ahhh-PEW of a sneeze, whereby the little Poppum squeaked out with laughter.

  “Aw, listen to him, would you!” chortled Wren, moving in closer still. “I think he liked the sound of that—Pew!” She imitated.

  Again the Poppum chuckled.

  “I think you may have found a name for him, Grogoch,” said Redmun, as he finished treating the creature’s wounds. “Now, we are all done here!”

  Taking a basket from under the table, he then laid some soft cushions inside of it. After that, he gingerly picked up Pew the Poppum and placed him down to his comfort inside the basket. The little fellow was bandaged up remarkably well, considering Redmun’s hindrance, and already he was on the mend.

  “I will leave you here tonight, where it’s warm,” he said to the Poppum, also leaving out a saucer of fresh water with a few leaves of lettuce next to it. In a sterner tone, he said to the others, “The rest of you, come with me!”

  When they got outside, he showed them to the smaller cabin of the two.

  “This is where you shall be staying,” said Redmun. “It is warm, dry, and fresh linens have been laid out for you. Rest for now. And when you awake, I will have one of the animals bring you some food.”

  Need I say, they were all very appreciative of the shelter and his hospitality.

  They were just about to lumber
inside for a quiet lie down when Redmun singled William out by saying, “Not you! There is a cot set up in one of the chambers in my cabin. You will be lodging there.”

  “But what difference does it make?” William asked tiredly. “We won’t be staying here long. You know how important our job is, so we’d better get on with it.”

  “It is up to me how long you stay here,” Redmun said stringently, as though tolerating no refusal. “And that means as long as it takes. We have much to do, you and I.”

  “So you’re separating us?” the boy said.

  “You can meet with your friends again when we are through. In the meantime, they may treat this jungle as their own; walk where they wish, and entertain themselves how they will. However, I will keep you on a shorter leash. And you can do without distractions while we work.”

  “Work?!” William exclaimed.

  Under the scepticism of Redmun’s rather austere attitude towards the boy, Icrick and Khrum gawked at William, as if to ask, “What on earth should we do?!” Unsure of what to do himself, William inadvertently glanced at Wren. She, in contrast, merely nodded with an approving wink, hence reminding him of how much she trusted this stranger. Ever since she’d heard about Redmun’s actions towards Valstarius, she seemed quite certain of his authenticity to help. So, William eventually agreed to the man’s terms, albeit he was apprehensive of doing so.