The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

by Brian G. Burke

  And so it was that the others departed for the smaller cabin, all the while watching William as he walked, with an air of solitude, toward his new lodgings.

  Confined were his new digs, with gnarled, panelled walls and a single stool, upon which sat a single lantern, aside a single cot. That was all. The only pleasant thing about it was the warmth which it efficiently held, considering the somewhat tattered conditions. For a moment he stood silently, glancing about, when a feeling of true loneliness overcame him as he threw his belongings lazily onto the floor and collapsed onto the cot.

  While wallowing in his self-pity, he grew conscious of the strange noises that resided in this new place; the cracking of cold floorboards, and the slight gust from outside whistling through the chinks of the age-old wood. The noises at first frightened him, making him restless. But he would soon adjust, whether he wanted to or not. For William was there in that jungle for a valid reason. A reason which he would be grateful for before the end.

  Just then, Redmun knocked on the door and stepped in halfway.

  “Meet me in the glade at dawn tomorrow. You can leave your baggage and cloak here...you will not require them. Don’t be late! Rest now, for you will need your wits for what lies ahead,” he said, before shutting the door to the voice of his stride as it vanished down the creaking hallway.

  I cannot say that William didn’t feel trapped; incarcerated. As it would, indeed, be a long, long time before he would eventually see his friends properly again. Somehow he knew this, in spite of what Redmun had told him earlier. It was, again, one of those feelings he had deep in his gut.

  Suddenly, an inexplicable sensation of guidance and inner trust brewed within him, extinguishing whatever doubt was surely branding its way deep into his worried mind. Once he realised that the intent of this novel feeling was helpful, as opposed to harmful, he felt slightly liberated, and he actually managed to doze off.

  It was a good night’s sleep he got, too, and Redmun was right; William was going to need it, because the following morning, he was to begin his training.

  - Chapter Thirteen -

  Secret of the Banádh

  The grounds were still very dim that morning when William went outside. There was also an underlying feeling of downheartedness along with it. Most of the trees bordering that glade were grim and putrid, with their limbs stooping drearily to the undergrowth. Nowhere in sight, the crickets chirped a lonesome ballad, the toads croaked at intervals, and the crows cawed as though relishing the moroseness of it all. William found the whole setting cold, soggy, and eerie, even with fingers of wholesome sunshine steadily projecting through the dawning clouds.

  Bats fluttered through the trees as unseen critters scuttled amongst the grasses all around him, with that deep dell just shaded enough to cater for their nocturnal needs. At one point something even slapped the boy on the back with a hollow thump, giving him an awful scare. He presumed it to be Redmun, welcoming him with a slightly lighter disposition than the day previous. But when he spun around to see who it was...nobody was there. Panicking at the idea that some animal had latched onto his back, William yanked his tunic over his head, only nothing was there. It must’ve scuttled, slithered, or flapped away, whatever it was. This put him off to an atrocious start, I must say.

  Redmun was taking his precious time in coming to meet William who was, rather surprisingly, yearning for his arrival; if only for want of some company. “This place is as weird as an aul’ graveyard!” he thought, glancing around, praying that he wouldn’t have to linger alone much longer.

  “I should really give him a piece o’ my mind when I see him!” grumbled the young fellow. “Telling me what I can and can’t do! Who does he think he is? Maybe Anun was right. Then again, what do I know? I’m not sure if I know what I’m doing at this point! Now I’m even talking to myself. Perhaps that’s it...I’ve completely lost my marbles, and now I’m just plain cuckoo! Makes sense! Pfff...Redmun! And what’s all this about work? Work! I’ve got enough to chew on without adding more to my plate! I should really tell him what’s what! Cranky ol’...”

  Kicking a pinecone into the brush, he knew well that he had no intentions whatsoever of giving anybody a piece of his mind, much less Redmun. After all, he did get the impression that the man was just trying to help him in some way. Although, so far, his means proved a little less orthodox in comparison to what William was accustomed to. He also frightened the boy a bit, with his firm face and stringent rules. Therefore, any wise lip on William’s part would’ve been unequivocally out of the question, and he was quite well aware of this, too. But he persisted to grouse, so long as nobody was around to hear him. A brave lad.

  After enduring another short while of mysterious wings flapping by William’s head, and slithery things rolling past his feet, Redmun finally decided to show up. William was quite relieved, to some degree, thereby calming slightly from his solitary squabbling. The atmosphere then changed abruptly when the animals of the jungle ceased to speak upon the man’s arrival. Whether it was out of fear or veneration, it was hard to say. It was odd, either way.

  Ostly the Pheasant swooped down from the unknown and landed on a mossy boulder nearby, and a fox named Merkel trotted in assertively at Redmun’s side, glancing up at the man occasionally as he cantered.

  A very clean animal he was, with scrawny legs, a lovely ochre coat, tall ears, all rounded off by his big, bushy tail tipped in white. Upon his back, Merkel carried a parcel, wrapped securely in thick twine.

  “To negotiate dangerous situations, you must negotiate dangerous surrounding, boy! This is your first lesson,” said Redmun, not wasting any time.

  He pushed through the stubborn grass with a wooden crook, all stern and business-like. Unfastening the parcel from Merkel’s back, he then unravelled the twine and produced two sticks. Each were about three feet long, made of strong, oak, and they each had a leather grip.

  “You must also learn to fight with your own wits and not with that of an enchanted blade,” the man instructed, circling the boy in a tutor-like fashion. “What happens if the sword is taken from you? What happens then? You’re left there with not but scrot in your hand, sucking your thumb and whatnot! Never depend on another for your own survival! This is the second rule. And that goes for all walks of life.”

  Flurrying his stick to adapt to its feel, the man then said, “Now, we will start training with these sticks at first. Later, we shall upgrade to more traditional forms of weaponry. I have your sword in a safe place. I shall return it to you when I feel you’ve earned it. Now, let us begin!”

  “But that sword is mine!” William suddenly objected.

  Realising how juvenile and insolent he sounded, he would’ve snatched those words back if it were in any way possible, but it was too late.

  “You listen to me, lad,” Redmun hissed, calmly approaching. “I have encountered terrible beings upon this land. Creatures which have made me thankful I have no eyes to see them! There are beasts and sorcerers here who’ll not hesitate to snap your little wishbone of a neck if given half the chance.” (As he said that he clicked his fingers, making William jump.) “So, you’ll happily abide by what I give you to learn. How I choose to teach it. And with no complaints! Do I make myself clear?”

  Shivering at the idea of having his neck snapped, William nodded briskly, followed by a strenuous gulp.

  “Good. Now, take one of these sticks and move to the other end of the glade.”

  Snatching one of the sticks from Redmun’s grasp, William wandered over to the far border of the glade. Whilst his back was turned, Redmun had a smile to himself. He knew the boy was afraid, and a little reluctant, yet that was all to change.

  “Now, let us see how you fight,” said the man, poised tall, on the distant side of the dell. “I want you to attack me...”

  Curious as it was, Redmun stood quite casually with the stick by his side, and the other arm resting behind his back. He had more the look of a man who was out for a breath of
fresh air than of a man who was awaiting an assault. But if Redmun wanted William to attack, then that was exactly what he was going to do...

  Tightening his grip in both hands with the twisting sounds of contorted leather, William bolted towards him with a ferocious battle cry. With his bellows fluctuating on every heavy footfall, he ploughed through the heavy burdock and masses of chickweed, ruthlessly, as though expelling every last ounce of stress which had fallen upon him since his outset. Still Redmun remained. Immobile. Calm as ever.

  Swinging with a wide, sweeping lunge, William attacked with every last inch of bodyweight that was available to him. Redmun simply stepped aside, and William tumbled into the pool of muck behind him. He was painstakingly effortless for Redmun to read, blind or not.

  William was an absolute mess. As he scooped the mud from his sour face, Merkel was there, sniffing at him.

  “I have a question for you,” Redmun asked coolly. “Why on earth did you scream before you attacked me? Was it supposed to frighten me? Or were you intentionally trying to telegraph your movements?”

  Picking himself up with a grunt, William fixed his garments. Annoyed, he said nothing. He simply stood there and let Redmun have his moment.

  “Let me tell you one fact about combat, boy,” said the man, resting both hands behind his back. “‘Tis no great secret in warfare that screaming like a lunatic—which you’ve so kindly demonstrated for us—is good for venting steam and, perhaps, bringing you a little more power...but not enough to justify it. Other than that, it provokes clumsiness, and confusion, after which comes panic, then overall sloppy swordsmanship. However! Nothing, and I mean nothing, is more unsettling to your enemy than the sight of a calm face. It suggests fearlessness. Confidence. It shows you have a plan. A stratagem. And that you have no hesitations in using it. And the best part of this inner serenity is that it relaxes both body and mind to a state of complete combative precision. Therefore,” he said with a grin, as he leaned in closer to the lad, “you will become an even more ferocious animal than you could ever hope to be otherwise.”

  This actually made perfect sense to William, in a way. True, he had no previous knowledge of this sort of thing, but it did make a great deal of sense to him, the way Redmun explained it. It was so simple, and so interesting, not to mention exciting, and wouldn’t you know, William was immediately hooked.

  Allowing that lesson to sink deep into his conscious mind, he picked up his stick again and jogged back to his starting position. And so, his training truly began.

  At first his training took days, which soon merged into weeks. William started out slowly to begin with; making clumsy mistakes and getting bumped on the head with sticks for his effort. It was the only way he’d learn, and he was very well aware of that fact. The only way for anyone to understand anything properly is to be thrown in at the deep end, and William was a firm believer in that philosophy...providing school didn’t come into it, of course.

  Redmun taught him to be wary of his surroundings. He showed him how to use his line of sight, and how to be aware of what was around him at all angles. This brought William to the study of visualisation, and how it was crucial for him to constantly visualize attacks, wherever he may be, day or night, for mental preparation is absolutely essential training for the real situation.

  “Have you any hobbies, lad?” Redmun asked him one overcast morn in the glade.

  “Well, I suppose I enjoy reading a lot, and slingshot...music, too,” William answered, now being a little more deferential than before.

  “Slingshot. Fair enough,” said the man, looking for something he could utilize as an example. “Do you remember when you first began using this weapon?”

  “Yeah, I remember that day well. One o’ my neighbours gave it to me for my ninth birthday. I wasn’t very good at it though, at first. We lined up some empty jars on my back wall. I missed every time! But I enjoyed it, so I kept at it.”

  “So, you enjoyed it! Would you say that you, perhaps, found it interesting enough to reflect on it occasionally...when you were not targeting jars? Thought about it from time to time?” Redmun put in.

  “I suppose I did...yeah,” William replied.

  “And how many targets did you hit the following day after receiving the sling as a gift?”

  “I don’t know, really,” William replied, as he tried to recollect. “Come to think of it though, I was knocking a lot more than the first day.”

  “Exactly!” Redmun said, tapping his finger of William’s forehead. “Visualization, boy!”

  “Visualisation? What’s that?” William asked, with a flutter of blinks as Redmun prodded his brow.

  “Visualisation can be used in any event, not just combat!” the man explained. “It is something which people sometimes tend to do without even realising it. To envisage specific reactions in specific situations and continue to do so until the mind finds it near impossible to differentiate between reality and the imagination. It conveys to you mental preparation. For example, if you consistently visualized a particular attack, and precisely what you would do in the event of said attack, your body will react accordingly by means of your mental preparation. Visualisation is a powerful tool, boy. Never forget that.”

  Once again, William was absolutely blown back by Redmun’s teachings and, from that moment henceforth, he made it a habit to continually utilize this visualisation for every possible situation his mind could invoke. Be it dodging illusory arrows or evading trundling boulders, William imagined them all; a vast array of scenarios, and all with remarkable detail, too, over, and over, and over again.

  During training, young William consumed nothing other than the most nutritious of foods. None of them really looked all that appetising; sometimes being very bland and uninteresting recipes of single-coloured glop. But it was undeniably nourishing for him, and it made him much stronger in body and a lot sharper in mind, too. Religiously, Redmun dished out six of these small meals daily, each being two hours apart; no more, no less. Most of the meals consisted of either fish or poultry, sometimes both. These were essential for building William’s strength. On top of that, he consumed lots of potatoes, oats, and grains, which provided him with his much-needed energy. Every once in a while, Redmun would then sprinkle on some seasonings of his own concoction...to help the process along. Nothing risky or toxic, mind. It was actually very natural, and wonderfully wholesome. Plenty of water was also a must. Three litres a day, at least. By the time the first month had passed, William discovered that he’d shed some of what little flab he had, and it had been replaced by an ever so slight amount of brawn. The training—particularly the more laborious exercises, which you will find out more about in a moment—was paying off.

  Six weeks had whisked by as an ever-increasing amount of strenuous tasks were being left aside for our William. Redmun woke him before dawn each day for breakfast. When finished eating, William would spend an hour or so hauling heavy pails of water both to and from the cabin. Never was he permitted to carry one pail in two hands, as it was ‘counterproductive,’ a word which he heard often in that jungle. And if he ever did so, he would suffer a severe scolding from his teacher. No, William was always made carry one full pail per hand. Thankfully, the well itself was a reasonable walk from the cabin, so if he ever needed a rest between journeys, he could stop and start as much as he liked. That being said, Redmun also had those pails measured, and if too much had been spilt during their transport, then William was made go back and do it all over again.

  Brawny logs also had to be chopped into firewood every two to three hours, for those dwellings were colder than igloos; especially when nighttime approached...and Redmun treasured his heat, what’s more, as did the grouchy Head. So it was up to William to keep them all happy.

  In fact, those were the only times William actually saw his friends, in those earlier days of Làn Cùrdhal. Leaving aside a basket of fuel for their hearth whilst in the meantime attending to his other duties, William sometimes spotted th
em as they came out to collect it. Usually they took it in turns, every few hours. Of course, they spotted William too, and they each exchanged a grinning wave; all except for The Head, who couldn’t get his body inside quick enough from the cold jungle. Yet those greetings were always cut short by Redmun’s intimidating arrival, to which end he ordered William to stop his dawdling and double his efforts to make up for lost time. It was moments such as these that William felt rather contemptuous towards the man, but he never really held his grudges. Nor was Redmun always so intolerant.

  On top of all his other chores and training, a stone wall had to be erected near the shed as a reinforcement for the old goat pen. This exhausted a week and a half in itself. As that was under construction, the animals also had to be fed...daily. Weeds and long grasses had to be hoed from the trails as they got too burdensome. Irrigations had to be laid down, and saplings had to be cultivated about different areas of the jungle, which, as you already know, ran on for ages in all directions. As well as all that, another raft had to be constructed by the river. Our William had much to do, and he was beginning to wonder if he would ever get out of that jungle to fulfil the remainder of his journey. All the same, he also knew that he was attaining new and interesting virtues as the weeks went by, and that the labour was indeed playing a huge part in his physical conditioning also.

  However, throughout his time there, the eclipse remained a great trepidation for him.

  One golden afternoon, William appeared rather troubled, and kept on snagging his fingers under the stones as he assembled the wall.