The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles

by Brian G. Burke

  After unearthing that long-lost sense of excitement, he started wondering what it would feel like to actually be a Wrythunn; whatever, in fact, a Wrythunn actually was.

  He then asked, “So, about the Wrythunn. That’s what Mysun was...a Wrythunn? What is it exactly? A wizard? A warrior?”

  “To an extent,” said Redmun, folding his arms and crossing legs. “Let me explain. Like the other magical races of this world, the Wrythunn are in a ‘tier,’ but of one of the highest orders. They are a species of wizard who have evolved from one rare breed of magic, a magic which only took the host of four beings that we know of: Belenathus, Belenathor, Drevol and Mysun. They were anomalies of enchantment, if you will. No two Wrythunn were the same, whereas the magic could only be passed on through hereditary means, according to theory. Drevol, however, was born within the Wrythus when it first came to being; through some obscure occurrence. Nobody can really say how for certain.”

  “So, because you’re reincarnated from Belenathus, does that mean you still have the ability to use any of his power?” William put in.

  “No, unfortunately it does not,” Redmun replied. “I started out anew. Though maybe my past did have some influence upon the outcome of my present abilities; I cannot really say.”

  “Oh, okay then,” said William, trying earnestly to get his head around it.

  “Anyway, that’s beside the point,” Redmun continued. “Over the years, we’ve only had these four Wrythunn to learn from. But, over time, the studies of Yúrnacha have again shown a much deeper insight into their magic, and the possibilities it could attain.

  “If this breed of sorcerer—the Wrythunn—ever formed into a mass population, it was said that even in their earliest years of training, they could accomplish a variety of things, with each Wrythunn being different to the next. They could achieve anything from moving at lightning speed, to using foresight. They could cast terrible curses, have the knowledge of universal speech in order to empathize with beasts...and the list goes on and on! They would each be blessed with a natural array of formidable skills, some more than others. They’d have the know-how to change the basic principles of physics to their own will. The Wrythus would even allow some to manipulate and create forces of the elements. Yes, with the right combinations, this magic could let you accomplish any range of miraculous feats! Provided one had the mind to use it that way, of course. And to accomplish creativity through such sorcery is a much tougher task than you might think. Especially in the heat of battle! In most cases, through force of habit, one tends to reuse the same tactics over and over, instinctually, as opposed to fabricating new and better ways of utilizing their power. They lack the ability to think fast. But that’s where adaptation comes in.”

  Just then, William picked up a pebble from beside his foot, and said, “So, if I thought about it hard enough, I could make this pebble float or spin or something? Just by using my mind, say?”

  “Telekinesis, I suppose you mean?” asked Redmun. “Or, at least, that’s what it is now branded in your world, going by what the burrowers tell us.”

  “Um...yeah....right...Tella-na-nee-kasis,” William repeated, with a wonky eye.

  “Through Mysun’s power...yes, of course you could. I presume it’d be based around the rudimentary rules of physical compounds.”

  The boy’s silence hinted towards his confusion of Redmun’s technical jargon.

  “In other words, that stone is made up of microscopic particles. So are you!” the man explained. “Technically that stone is a part of you, so why could you not move it? That would be the real question.”

  Obviously, William couldn’t resist giving it a quick cerebral glare as Redmun was explaining things, but nothing came of it, so he just chucked it away.

  “Over time and with enough practice, the abilities of a Wrythunn could be unsurpassable by any normal standards of wizardry,” said Redmun.

  He then strayed silently into a thought, and muttered, “And then there’s ‘the theory’...”

  “Theory?” William asked.

  “There is the theory of a Wrythus-beast alteration. It is a skill that only the eldest and strongest of the Wrythunn are believed to attain. The brothers, for example—had they only the mind to wield their power from the beginning. Yes, all Wrythunn are said to have the potential to eventually possess this skill, for it is supposedly the only relevant Wrythus power. It is known as ‘the Mùbiia.’

  “This element of the initial curse was believed to have been influenced by the myths of foreign cultures. It is said that, by the laws of the Ancient Age, a different magical beast was chosen to represent each month of the calendar year. Thus, whichever month a Wrythunn was born in, it would be that creature to which the Wrythunn would become one with, and they could use the abilities of this beast for their own benefit.”

  As he was imparting these details, William recalled that book upon the lectern in Redmun’s study. It could only have been that graph to which he was referring. Even so, he was too scared to mention it for fear of rousing the same hostilities as he did that very night when he was prying outside the door.

  “But...this is just a theory,” the man continued. “For there were never enough Wrythunn in existence to prove that there could be twelve separate alterations, nor did anyone ever witness a Wrythunn changing into one of those beasts. It could just be a hypothesis based around a miscalculation, for all we know. Try not to think about it.”

  But the lad couldn’t help it. He had to ask more. It intrigued him so much to learn of such things.

  “Beast alteration? The Wrythunn sound so different to anything I’ve ever read about. So, do you know what the four known alterations were? I mean, of Belenathus and Mysun and them?”

  Putting his head back, Redmun deliberated. After a brief moment he said, “The months were May, August, November and October. And I believe the beasts were The Manticore; The Gargoyle; The Wendigo, I think; and The Hydra. But don’t get too excited about it, boy. Even if such a gift does exist, it would take centuries of practice and experience to reach that level.”

  In spite of Redmun’s speculations, William remained astonished by all that he was hearing. How could he not become enveloped, when it had delved so deeply into the culture of this new magic.

  “Okay, so which months were Mysun and Drevol born in? I think it’d be a good idea for me to know these things...just in case,” he asked.

  “I presume you wish to discover which beast would represent you?” Redmun questioned, and William reservedly agreed. “Mysun was born in August, and Drevol was born in October. But your own circumstances have undoubtedly changed, unless you were born in the exact same calendar month as Mysun. And the prophecies never foretold such a thing.”

  Just then, it struck William. And upon that staggering blow, all other details became so insignificant.

  With much worry in his voice, he exclaimed, “Wait! If Drevol was born in October, then that means he is...a-a Hydra?! I’m going to try and assassinate a Hydra? A Hydra? That thing with loads o’ heads?”

  “Do not fear, lad,” Redmun said, smiling. “I do not expect Drevol will have earned enough power to yet achieve such an ability. Not this early in his Wrythus years. And that is if such an ability even exists, boy. How many times do I have to tell you? They were just theories...legends...myths!”

  Be it theory or not, it didn’t appeal to William to think that there was even the slightest possibility that his enemy was both a terrible sorcerer and a five-headed dragon all at once. So, for the sake of his nerves, he left the Hydra topic alone for the time being, thereby returning to his previous inquiry.

  “Okay, I have another question so, about the Mùbiia,” he said.

  “Go on!” sighed Redmun, growing weary.

  “I was born in April. Were there any theories about that month?”

  Redmun didn’t speak all of a sudden. He instead became on edge, and clammed up with solitary notions, like someone had just bequeathed unto him grave
tidings.

  “...Redmun?” William asked.

  The man still did not heed him. On hearing William’s words, Redmun’s thoughts had been violently strewn into a blackened pit whereby the demons of fear—hopelessness and horror—were thriving ravenously upon the consumption of his dreams for salvation.

  “Redmun...are you all right?” asked William’s voice, though how muffled it was through the man’s demoralizing ideas.

  “Redmun?” he asked again.

  “Oh...w-what creature is associated with April, you say?” the man finally uttered, so as to appear all right. “Bah, who knows? My memories of such absurd facts are hazy at best. Besides, you will not be around this land long enough to find out! You will be back home! And I presume that idea pleases you very much?”

  Redmun desperately wanted to talk about something else, because William was dabbling in questions which he shouldn’t really know anything about. Not at this early stage, at least. To overwhelm the mind only brings anxiety, and that was a road which he need not stray toward. Redmun knew this well enough.

  “I suppose,” said the boy, being slightly disappointed that Redmun did not answer his question. “I do miss it; all the people around Ballycongraggon. It’ll be coming up to the All Hallows’ Eve party soon. I’m probably going to miss that though, or I might be early or...hmmm. I’m not too sure when I’ll be back there, with all these time differences and things. It’d be nice to make it back for the campfires and lemonade, though. Now that’d be a real treat! I was going to—”

  Suddenly, William smirked and shook his head.

  “Going to what?” the man asked.

  “I was going to dress up as a wizard this year. What are the odds?!” The boy smiled, though that grin was more so forged from doleful irony as opposed to glee.

  Talking about his home was indeed bringing him down, and he began thinking and fidgeting to himself. He missed Ballycongraggon dearly and, in a way, he too relied a huge deal upon Mysun, depending on how you looked at it.

  “Well, what about Mysun?” he asked, still fidgeting. “What kind o’ magic does he have?”

  “Mysun was the most complicated Wrythunn of all,” Redmun answered.

  He knew that William wasn’t quite himself after discussing his home, so he continued to answer the boy’s questions in a noble attempt to amuse him.

  “Like me, Mysun also had the power of the Erethaoí in him; one of the funny turns of the Wrythus magic. So, with him also being part Erethaoí, it meant that, as Mysun grew, his Wrythus abilities evolved too! It had the potential to evolve into a much greater magic than any other Wrythunn in existence ever had. Within him, it developed much quicker and stronger than any other before him, and he could actually choose his powers at will. That’s why I say you must adapt to use its full potential.”

  Such ideas were gradually diverting William from his troubles again, and he was becoming all the more enthralled in Redmun’s exciting teachings of heroes and wizardry.

  “Even at the beginning of his rise, Mysun was able to accomplish incredible things,” the man explained. “His abilities in hand-to-hand combat were unrivalled! He smote even the greatest of foes with ease, through flawless use of spell and sword! I only wish I could’ve seen him, or had the honour of shaking his hand. If Mysun had ever gotten the chance to adapt to the Wrythus, boy, and the years went by to the evolution of his power...the possibilities would have been truly endless. Bar returning light into death’s perpetual kiss by actually reversing the intricacies of human demise—a feat which is not only impossible, but unheard of—there is nothing he wouldn’t be able to do. And only you have this potential now. And, if ever given time, you’d only be bound by the limits of your own imagination.

  That is why it was so overwhelming for the brothers. Even in its regular form, the Wrythus was too potent; too strong for them. But Mysun was born with the Wrythus in his blood, alongside the potentials of the Erethaoí. And you will eventually inherit his gift. You will inherit his natural tolerance for it. But you will still have to learn from the beginning.”

  “From the beginning,” William pondered aloud. “That’s a frightening thought! Doesn’t that mean I’ll be outmatched by Drevol? I mean, does he not have the natural instincts of the Wrythus too, because he was born inside and that?”

  “You have to realise that Drevol is still a descendant of the Pooka, boy. Not the brightest of all imps. Yes, it is correct that he has the natural instincts in his own Wrythus art. But that is just like saying, ‘because a dog has the instinct to lap the stew, then why can’t he prepare the stock?’ In other words, do not be fooled by Briggun. He is an animal, a creature, despite his subtleties. And instinct and the ability to operate logic are two completely different things. Although that’s not to say that you should underestimate your enemy either; not by any means! He is still very dangerous. His spell casting is frighteningly unstable, not to mention unpredictable. Yet old dogs can still learn new tricks, despite what people may say.

  “Mysun, on the other hand, was of the human race, being son to Belenathus. He had the mind-set to comprehend his natural talent. And, as time pressed on, he was able to use his gift with unsurpassable skill.”

  “Unsurpassable skill,” William muttered to himself. “It’s a wonder the Pooka was a match for Mysun at all, if Mysun was able to use the Wrythus better than him.”

  “Yes, well, we have the eclipse to thank for that,” said the man. “This was an ability which even the Pooka himself was unaware of possessing.

  “The energy from the red eclipse—much like the one which shone on the very eve of his creation—combined with the power of his Krimmìn stone, unleashed a luring wave to all the evil on the land, acting like a beacon which could draw legions of evil to its will. Hundreds upon hundreds of thousands, boy. Beasts which have since strayed from the Elderland onto Lythiann. Nobody in the entire universe would’ve seen an army so vast. Not in any lifetime!

  “This is what really tested Mysun! Our hero could still protect much of the land for a time. Yet after months of battle, without rest, he was getting tired. It was around then that Mitzel had created the Symphogram, and Mysun had his own army of allies to contend with Drevol! But, unfortunately, it was too late. By then, Drevol’s army had grown to monumental proportions, and Mysun was still very weak. The Pooka’s cowardly plan was coming to fruition. He allowed his army to break Mysun down to nothing, until he saw the perfect chance to attack by himself; to end his worn enemy, single-handedly, whilst claiming the ultimate victory for himself. Not a bad plan...for an imbecile! Though cowardly, I admit. But Mysun knew of this ploy...”

  “And that’s when he retreated to the other land?” William concluded.

  “Yes, Pherenstead! You know your stuff, boy. Well done!” The man grinned.

  Musing away, William didn’t say much just then.

  “What? No more questions?” asked Redmun.

  “I’m just wondering...”

  “...About?”

  “About the one who sent me on this task, and how they didn’t tell me half o’ these things. I already discussed it with Icrick though, and he shed a lot o’ light on it for me too, so it’s no big deal, really.”

  Surprising him a bit, the man said, “You were better off not knowing, lad, in my opinion! For ignorance truly can be bliss sometimes. Oh, yes, whoever sent you on this quest must be very wise. You ended up finding out about everything all in good time. Venturing a guess, I’d say they didn’t wish to dissuade you by overwhelming your mind with so many intricate details. Not all at once, at least. I wouldn’t expect any mind, no matter how strong, could withstand even a sliver of all you’ve come to learn up to this point. I know I couldn’t! And to presume one could suffer the entirety of this bane all in one sitting would be sheer foolishness altogether! It might have even changed your mind.”

  This made perfect sense. Would he have gone through with this had Anun told him everything? For the thoughts alone of having to find a sw
ord was already nerve-racking enough for him back then, let alone finding a thing called a Symphogram, too. Nor was it the first time she’d held details from him to spare his sanity; the Witches Window was another.

  “You must also understand, boy, that we make many decisions here on Lythiann going by what we learn through the prophets. So chances are, this person already knew that you would learn of these details, at some stage along the way, thereby allowing you to choose how to see them for yourself. How to deal with them, in your own time and in your own way. And it is such an important thing—choice; our own decisions—and how we let them fabricate our life’s courses. Some may show us to bounty, some may show us to burden. But, in the end, no matter what comes of them, positive or negative, our choices will always make us who we are.”

  “She would’ve put it that way too,” William found himself fondly admitting.

  Suddenly, the bushes quivered in the nearby jungle, and a magnificent horned owl soared down from the trees. Redmun held out his forearm where she found her perch, and there she stood, hooting, with her neck swivelling and a-bobbing.

  Returning to his typical mannerisms, the man then said, “Well, it’s getting late, boy. That’s enough talk for one day. I need you to go as far as the well and fetch me half a dozen pails before dark. Hurry up now, or your dinner will be left for the animals!”

  Sighing at the thought of having to substitute this fascinating conversation with boring old chores, William shuffled out of the barn and got on with it.

  Piteously, Redmun muttered after his footsteps, “Trust lies with innocence.”

  Leaving Redmun’s arm, the owl flew back up into the trees, allowing him to close up the barn for the evening. By then, twilight had passed, and night’s shade was widening.

  - Chapter Fifteen -

  The Duel

  The next morning, if it weren’t for those great loitering clouds of a leaden pallor, the sun would’ve been shining gloriously over the jungle. In its stead, scattered rays peered scantily through the domineering waves of those most ominous rain clouds. It may as well have been a late afternoon in cold December, as far as William was concerned.