The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

by Brian G. Burke

  Just then the others waddled out lazily from the guest cabin, rubbing their bellies, satisfied and full. Ifcus remained indoors beside the fire where he usually slept in those days, whereas Wren was out with Redmun fetching water from the well.

  “Now that, that was a fine aul’ feed!” the leprechaun praised, groaning with a lovely stretch. “I could’ve downed another four slices or so, but I think the aul’ ticker’s been actin’ up ever since we moved in. Nothin’ ta do here, only sit around scoffin’. Lack o’ exercise ‘n’ all that tripe.”

  “You could always make up for it by gathering some extra firewood from time to time,” The Head suggested, rather audaciously. “I know you’re small, but I’m sure you could manage a few twigs at least. Might help you shed some of that gut.”

  At this, Khrum howled, and replied, “Says your man who won’t even get off his tinned rear ta so much as shtoke the flippin’ fire. Ya know what ya can do with your firewood, Dullahan? Cram it up your rancid aul’ ho—”

  “—ly Nora, Khrum!” Icrick interrupted. “Behave, will you! You’ve not seen William in ages, and all you can do is argue with Crosco. I mean, honestly!”

  “It’s grand, Icrick,” William said, with a fond smile. “I’d be worried if they weren’t having a go at each other! How’s it going, Khrum? And, Crosco, how are you?”

  “William,” Crosco greeted, being haughty as usual.

  “How’s the man?” chuckled the leprechaun, as he struggled up onto Icrick’s shoulder. “Phew! That took some effort! Maybe I should take it easy on the grub after all. ‘Twas like climbin’ a hairy tree, just now...with nits in it, by the looks o’ things. Fairly manky, Icrick, ol’ boy! Fairly manky in-deed!”

  With everyone now there, William went on to include them in the details of the Symphogram, as well as what he’d been doing in training of late (on Icrick’s request). While his teachings were all very intriguing, Khrum and the Dullahan were a little more interested in hearing about the legendary Symphogram, and how it came to be in the hands of Redmun.

  After William had imparted all he knew on the subject, and everyone let their awe subside, they strayed into some normal chat. For a good hour they sat around, talking, laughing, and speculating over what was yet to come. William asked of their comfort within that guest cottage, and about Redmun’s hospitality towards them; if it was good or bad. But there were no real complaints; only those regarding nightly insects and the occasional grass-snake slithering in from the glade, which wasn’t a problem either, considering how they always wriggled under Icrick’s covers every time, scaring the stink off him. Every night, they were counting on it to happen so that they could get a good laugh out of it. Sometimes it did, sometimes it didn’t. Either way, it made life a lot more interesting for all of them on those boring nights before bed.

  After a while, Redmun would come and fetch the boy. Waving farewell to his friends, William went back to his daily duties, wholeheartedly and full of grit.

  One afternoon, when he was meditating beside a small waterfall just beyond the glade, he found that he couldn’t concentrate as well as usual. He kept on shifting, and stirring. He was restless. Questions regarding his previous conversation with Redmun were playing on his mind, and he really wanted to ask the man more about it.

  “Something bothering you, boy?” the man asked.

  He was repairing his bow close by, and could tell that William was unsettled. Coming out of his meditation, William sighed and said, “Redmun, when you evolve into an Erethaoí...how will it happen?”

  He was curious as to whether Mysun’s transformation would be similar to Redmun’s, in some respects, though he was rather apprehensive about asking it straight out for some reason.

  With a smile, Redmun said, “Glad you asked. Follow me.”

  Dusting himself down, William followed him to the old barn out the back of the cabin.

  Fitted with a boarded sliding door on the side, this old basement barn had two large folding doors at the front, both secured by a heavy wooden beam and tarnished padlock. Holding the lock in hand, Redmun uttered into the keyhole some soft mutterings, at which the lock opened with a snap. As the man was busy folding back the doors, William stepped inside to nose around. He was half expecting something extraordinary and wonderful to be in that barn, the way Redmun was being so reserved about the whole business. But, much to his dismay, the only items occupying it were some haystacks—which must’ve been harvested elsewhere, yet were still very fresh—and a loft, below which hung four dangling dummies, and a short wooden tube with a strap was leaning in the corner beside some dusty casks.

  Taking this tube, Redmun slung it over his shoulder and moved to the centre of the floor. He appeared most eager to show William whatever it was he was about to show him.

  “Webble told me that, in this present state of my life, I am only a mere magician,” he said, sweeping bits out of his way with his foot. “Anybody can be a magician! It just takes practice. Currently, I can only create magic through the use of spells and, more importantly, specific ingredients...which are not always easy to find. Very well, I may be able to cause diversions or temporarily take to the skies, or defend myself long enough to escape danger...but none of this magic is truly natural. It is limited. Prepared. However, the path of the Erethaoí will be different; much more potent, in the sense that I will have the ability to manifest my energy from the earth, through the conveyance of an electric charge. Thus, these currents shall deliver a means of fuelling my magic. Magic of the elements.”

  “The elements? As in wind and water and that?” William asked, leaning against the casks.

  “Precisely!” said Redmun. “I will be able to generate one of the four elements. Just one, permanently, through the fusion of the current. I shall be able to use this one element as a projectile. A weapon! Flight will also be as natural to me as walking, for it is one of the chief Erethaoí talents. Like witches, their female counterpart, they can soar as well as a bird. Although witches sometimes need magical brooms to bring out this gift.

  “As for the elements, I am not sure as to which one I will be able to govern. It boggles me. Yet past experiences have taught me valuable lessons in patience.”

  Reaching into the tube, Redmun produced two small, black, leather balls.

  “What I do know, however, is how to practice for this new ability! Training for control of this power is the same for each element, as any Erethaoí will tell you. And this is how they used to prepare for their evolution in the early days...using these little Sní-pellets. They are actually Sní droppings. They look and feel like leather, but all the nutrients inside them—from Sní grazing—makes them last against nature’s forces. Young Sní produce the best droppings, but, again, they are not that easy to come by.

  So what the Erethaoí would do with these leather balls is they’d take them and fling them at their target. Sounds simple enough, I know, but they are very, very effective! Fly as true as arrows, they do.

  “This exercise is said to improve accuracy, speed, and coordination. But they have to be thrown using the correct technique in order to be truly beneficial to the magic itself.”

  Crouching to one knee, with his head down and the pellet held behind his back, Redmun took one deep breath. In so doing, he looked to be sinking into a deeper level of relaxation. Slowly, he released his breath until every last wisp had been expelled from his lungs. Then, suddenly, whipping his arm straight out before him, palm-side up and with flawless form, the ball shot out of his hand like a bullet, thereby dusting one of the dummy’s heads, nearly taking it clean off. Satisfied with this shot, Redmun stood to his feet.

  “Direct hit!” William applauded.

  “Aye, not bad!” the man concurred, pleased with himself. “Still, it is no contest for one to strike a sitting target. No one learns that way. So I’ve fabricated a simple conjuration to make it all a little more...challenging!”

  Taking something from his satchel he displayed to William four rath
er large snails with marble-textured, studded shells.

  “These are what I call Furtivites,” explained the man. “An evolved species of snail which I created. These creatures were once vulnerable to many predators. But with a little of my magic, I’ve bred a new species. Ones who can survive better in the wilds, and who can also aid me a great deal with my training.”

  “How do they manage that?” asked William, picking up a snail to examine it.

  “They can merge themselves with an inanimate host, giving it temporary skills of mobility. Not life...mobility! They can also cause the host to move very fast and stealthily. Just imagine a mew’s reaction as it swoops down to ensnare the Furtivite when, all of a sudden, it possesses a great chestnut tree to retaliate. The bird wouldn’t be long retreating, you can rest assured of that! Very effective, boy. Very effective indeed! But, again, limited.”

  Nodding in agreement, the boy said, “I can imagine,” and he handed him back the snail.

  “Now stand back, lad...and observe,” said Redmun, readying the Furtivites.

  William backed up a little further so as to behold.

  Walking into the midst of the barn, Redmun crouched and strategically placed all four snails upon the floor. When he stepped away, they took off at once, as fast as mice, towards the dummies, thus beginning to work their magic.

  At first it was kind of disgusting to see those slimy creatures slithering up the backs of each dummy, leaving a wet, grungy trail after them, all the time emitting nauseatingly squishy sounds. As they slunk, their shells expanded like sponges in the rain, with the slugs themselves retreating back inside them. William could almost feel last night’s chicken and spuds churning about in his tummy as he watched. Thankfully the snails had already taken position upon the back of each dummy before he could see it again, splashed across the floorboards, but all had gone quiet.

  Motionless those dummies hung like rag dolls, with great shells clinging to their shoulders. Suddenly, one started to twitch. Then another, and another after that. With his back to the wall, William shuffled behind the casks with a face of utter repugnance. Before he knew it, all four dummies were wobbling about and scurrying all over the barn. It was one of the weirdest things he’d ever seen. They looked demented. Insane. All scampering around like maniacal scarecrows. One of them was even scurrying about like a spider, down on all four limbs, with the shell bobbing on his back as he scuttled towards the shadows. It was then that William understood why Redmun called them stealthy. For when that dummy scampered into the darkness he completely vanished, only to reappear from an entirely different shadow at the opposite side of the barn. Tricky targets indeed.

  Drawing a new breath, Redmun uttered coolly, “Watch and learn, lad.”

  Again he crouched, scrutinizing the sounds of those burlap feet upon the sawdust floor. Like lightning, he flung out ball after ball. Every one walloped the dummies between the eyes, no matter where or how fast they decided to move. Redmun was leaping around like a cat, with the tails of his coat flailing in the action. He rolled and slid, here and there, hitting target after target.

  As the pellets ricocheted off the dummies they would bounce back, and Redmun would manage to either catch them in the tube or reclaim them in his fist again for another volley. At one point, he even whipped out four pellets at once, concurrently knocking all four dummies to the ground. William couldn’t help but laugh and clap out of sheer amazement. The rapidity of this man was absolutely insane. Of course the dummies wouldn’t yield; running all over place and wobbling their limbs like crazy dolls. And yet this was exactly how Redmun liked to practice; with unremitting action. It allowed him to deliver attack after attack and continue to do so until he could do no more.

  As the excitement persisted, young William was getting all the more entertained. Suddenly, one of the dummies made a charge in his direction. It was more so endeavouring to find the shadows behind William rather than attack the boy himself...but William didn’t know that. Crashing through the casks, the dummy floundered its way violently toward him. At that, William panicked, when, out of finely acclimatized impulses, he dealt a savage uppercut, sending the dummy right back onto his shell. I must say, our young Muldoon was definitely surprised by his reaction. With a look of pure amazement he stood there, staring at his attacker as it squirmed upon its shell like a tortoise after an awkward tumble, and then at his fist.

  In hearing this commotion, Redmun stopped what he was doing and, with an imperious clap of his hands, all of the dummies flopped down like damp towels.

  “Very impressive! Do that when it matters, boy, and it will be all the more impressive,” he congratulated, catching his breath and sitting against the cask beside William.

  “You have to remember that some beings have no consideration or appreciation for the lives of others. Your enemies will not take your feelings into account at any stage. Nor will they be either merciful or rational. They want to be the ones walking away from the battle in one piece, and they will do whatever is necessary in order to do so. Keep that in mind!”

  Redmun then patted William on the shoulder, which suggested to the boy some humble gesture of belated camaraderie. It was nice to get that from him at last.

  “Redmun...can I...can I ask you something?” he then asked, with some uncertainty.

  “It depends,” said the man, fixing a loose strap on his boot.

  “This transformation into Mysun; do you know what it will be like? I mean...will it be painful?”

  William seemed vulnerable and worried, both of which Redmun perceived, so supportively he responded, “I shouldn’t think that it will be painful. You probably think that your physical self will alter? Bones growing and splintering, and flesh tearing as you manifest into a grown warrior. Am I right?”

  William’s presumptions had never been so graphic, and now he was really worried.

  “Y-Yeah! Well, you see, I had this dream before, where I was changing into something. And the pain was unbearable.”

  “Dreams can give us funny notions, boy,” Redmun claimed. “They can be teaching us of things which may not have any relevance to what they show. Trying to understand them is not for the unaccustomed. It can be dangerous if we try. Lead us on trails that aren’t meant for us. Like foresight; some folks should leave such dealings to those who know how to interpret them.

  “The prophecy says that you will be merged with the power of Mysun and, in some ways, his spirit. His physical being from all that time ago has long since turned to dust. So, no, Mysun himself will never be back to our world. However, when the time is right, you will feel his passion within your bones; within your heart! His power will be bequeathed unto you and, instinctively, you will understand what it is that he fights for. You will learn what it is to represent him, if you will. His spirit will stimulate your strength, your beliefs, and your courage.”

  “And I’ll be able to use his magic like Mysun did...just like that?” William asked.

  “Yes; however, you will not be able to use this power to its full potential unless you get the opportunity to adapt to it. That could take many, many years. Nevertheless, I’m sure that you will do what you can with the magic you acquire, lad. So let us hope that it graces you more sooner than not, and we will have you get some practice in. Outside of this alteration of grandeur, it will not change a thing. You will still be you.”

  “Really?” The young fellow smiled, relieved, as if being suddenly rescued from some exhausting millstone. “So, once the time is right, then this change will happen?”

  “From what I know, once you truly realise what you’re fighting for...then it will happen. Once you begin to have faith in your cause. The sword is, otherwise, a trigger. Something for you to connect with your past, as some sort of fallback which could yet potentially aid with your transformation. But just because it’s a backup, doesn’t mean you should not protect it. For Thérn may yet very well prevail.”

  “Hang on,” said William. “Thérn? A trigger? I don�
�t get you.”

  “It’s like this,” the man explained. “Take the Grogoch, for example.”

  Redmun then pointed at Icrick, who was just beyond the bamboo trees outside getting bullied for kicks by Khrum. As a result of being teased, the Grogoch had fallen into one of his panic attacks, and was thereby struggling to catch his breath. But after a moment, he was soon breathing fine again. Khrum, after all, was only teasing him, and he was very apologetic towards him when he saw how badly his clowning had affected him.

  “Do you know why he gets those anxiety attacks?” Redmun asked William.

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “What happens is, his subconscious is associating certain situations to the feelings of fear and panic. He is not really gasping for air, he can breathe just fine...without any trouble at all. It’s merely his subconscious trying to trick his body into thinking it is in a state of panic, while the situation itself grants no threat. And over the years he has built onto it; adding pressure after pressure which, of course, is not good for his nerves. But he’ll live, and maybe someday he will learn to simply ignore these feelings and vanquish his fears for good.

  “Hence, these associations are a form of trigger, like Thérn is supposed to be for you. It is said that, by holding the sword of Mysun, your subconscious may recall a time when you were this Wrythunn, giving you belief, and thus providing you with the means you need to inherit his power. Granted, as of yet, nothing has happened. So now it is all left down to time...and more importantly, to you! Everything in life is a test, boy. Every day you must test yourself. That way, you’ll discover who you really are.”

  All this talk of testing oneself reminded William of when he used to jump those walls back home, albeit the circumstances were very different.