The Prince of Two Tribes

by Sean Cullen

  The drawing was just a rough charcoal sketch, but it undeniably portrayed the creature on the screen.

  “It’s a little person?” Delia couldn’t believe her eyes. “Is this some kind of joke? An optical illusion?”

  Dmitri shook his head. “How could it be?”

  “How could I draw this before I saw it on the screen?” Harold asked. “I must have seen her on the day I lost.”

  “But … ” Delia struggled. “But … she’s tiny! There aren’t people that small! It’s impossible. It’s crazy!”

  “Crazy or not, it would appear to be true,” Dmitri decided. “You can’t deny it. She’s there before our sight.”

  “Before our eyes!” Harold and Delia snapped together.

  “Whatever,” Dmitri conceded. “So the question is, what do we do now?”

  Delia stood up. “I’m going to confront Brendan.”

  “No!” Dmitri grabbed her arm. “You can’t do that. We need to know more.”

  “Get your cabbagy hand off me.” Delia tore her arm away. “I have to make him tell me what’s going on. My family might be in danger.”

  “You don’t know that,” Harold pointed out.

  “I don’t think Brendan would ever do anything to harm you or your family,” Dmitri said. “He’s a good person.”

  “How do you know? You obviously don’t know him at all!” Delia shouted. She turned and flung the door open. “What … ?”

  Standing in the doorway was an old woman, her head wrapped in a shawl. Her face was ancient and wrinkled but her blue eyes were bright. She wore a thick woollen dressing gown over her nightclothes and a pair of fluffy blue slippers on her bare yellow feet.

  The woman croaked in words in a strange language. She pointed at Delia and croaked again, more insistently.

  “Babka!” Dmitri cried in alarm. “What are you doing out of bed?” He leapt up and went to the old woman, taking her arm. He spoke a few words in the same strange language and tried to guide her back to the house. She struggled against him, shouting again.

  “What’s with her?” Delia asked. “What’s she saying?”

  “She’s my babka, my grandmother. She’s speaking Polish. She seems quite upset. She keeps saying, ‘The Prince is going to the island.’”

  “The island? What Prince?”

  “She could mean Ward’s Island. Where we followed Brendan,” Harold suggested.

  “But who is the Prince?” Delia asked. “Brendan?”

  The old woman pointed a gnarled finger at Delia. “Tak! Tak! Prinz Brendan!”

  “How does she know?” Delia said, skepticism clear on her face.

  “She is what we call a vrooshka,” Dmitri explained. “A psycho.”

  “Psychic,” Harold corrected.

  Delia looked at the old woman. She had a thought. “Ask her this. Tell her we followed Brendan to the island but we lost him there. How can we follow him?”

  “She should be in her bed,” Dmitri said. “In fact, I don’t think she’s been up on her feet for months … ”

  “Just ask her!”

  Dmitri shook his head and turned to his babka. He spoke in Polish and the old woman nodded. She answered in a rapid stream of words. When she was done, Dmitri translated. “She says we must find one who can see. She is too old to make the trip but there is another. He was an enemy but now he’s a friend. The Prince gave him Sight, though the Prince was not aware of the gift. Find the former nemesis.”50

  “The former nemesis?” Delia was confused. “Who could that possibly be?”

  “Excuse me,” Harold interjected meekly.

  “What?” Delia barked.

  Harold swallowed. “I, uh … I think I might know who the nemesis is.”

  48 I’ve always wondered why they call them saw horses. Why not saw cows or saw pigs or some other four-legged saw creature. I mean, cows are much less skittish than horses. A cow would certainly stay still while you were sawing something. I wouldn’t expect any such cooperation from a horse. Still, I’m not in charge.

  49 A perogy is a Polish dumpling containing any number of fillings, ranging from potato and cheese to minced meats to pickled cabbage. I’ve heard rumours of a dessert perogy filled with chocolate pudding and even a Mexican-style perogy stuffed with candies and small trinkets, hung from a tree and beaten with a stick. Or it might have been a piñata. I don’t get invited to a lot of parties.

  50 A nemesis is a person’s arch-enemy. It’s an old Greek word. Every hero has his nemesis. Peter Pan had Captain Hook. David had Goliath. My personal nemesis is a parrot named Crackers who curses me every time I walk by the pet shop down the street. Curse you, Crackers! Curse you!

  THE LAST DAY

  Brendan tried his best to meditate in the Faerie style. He didn’t have enough time to sleep before going to school. But he found he couldn’t settle his mind because of what had happened when he’d come back to the house this morning before dawn.

  He had parted with Kim and come through the back gate to find BLT waiting for him. She was very upset.

  “Where did you go?” she demanded, zipping up to his face and bopping him painfully on the nose with one tiny fist.

  “Ow! That hurt!”

  “Serves you right. I was worried sick!” the little Faerie sniffed. She crossed her arms and hung in the air, her wings whirring. “Well?”

  “I … ” he stammered. “I needed some time to think.”

  “Some time to think?” She whizzed in a circle. “And you left me out in the night alone again?”

  “I thought you’d be able to handle yourself,” Brendan said, hoping to appeal to her pride.

  “Of course I can. I was worried about you.” She seemed slightly mollified. “Where did you go?”

  “Kim and I went Dawn-flying. We saw Pûkh arrive.”

  BLT’s eyes went wide. “You saw the Wild Hunt. Was it marvellous?”

  “It was … pretty impressive.” Brendan had meant to say “terrifying,” but he didn’t want BLT to think he was afraid. “Anyway, it was nice to see Kim. I’ve missed her.”

  BLT arched an eyebrow. “Oh you have, have you? She missed you, too, you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, he is blind,” she cried to the stars. “Well, obviously …”

  Brendan expected her to keep speaking but she stopped dead, her entire body tense. She began searching the yard with her tiny eyes. “What? What’s the matter?” he asked.

  Her voice came out in a tense whisper. “We are being watched.” Suddenly, she screeched and rocketed off into the air. She made a beeline straight for a telephone pole that overlooked the Clairs’ yard. She slammed into the pole and tore at something with her hands. It came away from the wood with a snap. Carrying it in her hands, she brought it over to Brendan. He held out his hand and she dropped a small webcam into his palm. It was cracked and broken but still recognizable. They could be bought at any electronics store.

  “What was that doing there?”

  “Spies!” BLT hissed.

  “Who would want to spy on me?” Brendan asked in shock.

  “Not a Faerie spy. This is Metal Folk work.”

  On that note, they had gone inside. BLT refused to budge from her lookout spot by the window and stayed up muttering until she fell asleep and began to snore noisily. Brendan couldn’t stop worrying about the camera. As he tried to meditate, he turned the question over in his head.

  Who would want to spy on me? Mum and Dad? Maybe. But no. His dad could do stuff with his amps and knew a little bit about computers, but he only knew music software. His mum didn’t know much about computers at all. She could type, but that was it. Besides, it wasn’t their style. They’d just ask him if they had a problem with him. They wouldn’t sneak around.

  His sister. Oh yeah. Could be her, but she didn’t like computers and couldn’t have rigged up a webcam to save her life.

  Maybe Harold and Dmitri. Would they resort to spying on him? He found it hard to beli
eve. Had their friendship slid so far that they would do something like that? Maybe.

  Or maybe it’s even worse. Maybe it’s someone I don’t know who’s trying to learn my secret.

  That thought made him really worried. He gave up trying to calm his mind and got dressed.

  At breakfast, Delia was behaving strangely. She refused to even look at him. There were dark circles under her eyes as though she hadn’t slept either. When Brendan asked for the jam, she passed it to him without a word or a glance. She was usually sullen in the morning, but this was a new level of frigidity. He decided he couldn’t be bothered figuring out what was wrong with her. His mind was buzzing with other thoughts. Last night, being with Kim had given him a little distance from Charlie. He now looked at the lutin more critically. The meeting with Merddyn had opened his eyes. She was Merddyn’s ... what? Apprentice? Lackey? Servant? The Ancient Faerie had instructed her to befriend him. Was she really a friend? Her tears when she’d visited his dad’s music room had seemed genuine, but how could he know for sure? Although Kim was annoying, bossy, and disdainful of his attachment to his Human family, he was certain that everything she did was meant to help him adjust to his new life. With Charlie, he wasn’t sure if he was just a part of Merddyn’s agenda, a pawn in some larger game.

  His father had just finished talking about a UFO that had supposedly been sighted in the wee hours of the morning over the lake.51 Condo residents reported hearing a sonic boom and high-pitched shrieking, and seeing bizarre lights in the sky. Officials were saying the phenomenon was likely heat lightning or some other weather anomaly that was related to the unprecedented cold snap that had fallen on the city. Brendan knew that residents had actually seen the Wild Hunt arriving at the Ward’s Island, but he didn’t share his knowledge with the table.

  “What are you going to do today, Brendan? Plans?” his dad asked.

  “I don’t know. We only have a half day today. And there’s a Christmas assembly. Not much of an actual school day,” Brendan said. “I’m free for the afternoon. I was thinking of going out tonight.”

  “With Charlie?” His mother’s face was eager for news on the Charlie front.

  “Maybe,” Brendan conceded. Again, the girlfriend ruse was coming in handy. Having Charlie as an excuse was going to be helpful tonight when he had to attend the Gathering.

  “I hear the Toronto Islands are a nice spot for a date,” Delia said suddenly, breaking her silence.

  “That might be a no go,” Brendan’s mum said. “There was a cold snap last night. The harbour is frozen and the ferries aren’t sailing. They’re trying to break up the ice but they haven’t got an icebreaker heavy enough.”

  Brendan stared at Delia. Why had she suggested the islands? It was weird. She was focused on her waffle again, studiously avoiding his gaze. She must know something, he decided. But what? Was she the culprit with the camera? He wouldn’t put it past her. He’d have to be careful. He tried to put it out of his mind. He had to concentrate on the Proving to come and save any worries about Delia for later … if there was a later.

  “We’ll probably go to the movies or shopping or something.”

  “Yeah,” Brendan’s dad agreed. “It’s a real freak weather system. So wear your heavy coats, guys. It’s gonna be super cold.” He picked his parka off the hook and pulled it on. “And don’t lick any frozen pipes!”52 With that advice, he opened the back door and was gone.

  “I gotta go, Mum,” Brendan said. He lifted his backpack off the floor and bent to kiss his mother. “See you tonight.”

  Brendan and Charlie walked along College Street, past the hospitals and the cafés that served the university.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Charlie said finally. She’d appeared at his side moments before. “You haven’t said two words in a row since I showed up.”

  “I don’t know,” Brendan mumbled. “Don’t feel like talking, that’s all.”

  Brendan’s father was right. The city was gripped in an arctic chill. BLT took refuge in Brendan’s parka pocket, refusing even to poke her head out. The very air seemed to crystallize around them. He focused his Faerie Sight and saw the minute particles of ice glittering in the clouds of his breath. All the people around him were bundled up against the cold, only their eyes peering out between scarves and hats. The clouds hung low and grey with the promise of more snow.

  They turned up a side street, cutting across to the Spadina loop.

  “Merddyn likes you,” Charlie said. “I can tell.”

  “Good for me,” Brendan grunted.

  “Come on,” Charlie chided him. “It’s quite a thing to impress that guy. He’s seen everything, that one.”

  Brendan stopped and faced her. “Why should I care? I have enough people who like me. I have my family and my friends. And they don’t expect me to save the world for them, either.”

  “So angry all the time.” Charlie shook her head. “What have I done?”

  “It’s not what you’ve done, it’s why you’re doing it.”

  “I’m just trying to show you how to use your power.”

  “Because Merddyn told you to.”

  “Oui,” Charlie agreed. “He told me to get close to you and help you. But after a while, I did it for me. I envy you, Brendan. I don’t know who my family is, or if they’re even alive. I like your family.”

  “Do you?” Brendan said angrily. “You’ve come into our lives and told them lies and they believe you. They don’t even know who you really are. What’s worse, I think they want to believe you for my sake, to make me happy.”

  Charlie hung her head, her dark hair hiding her face. When she raised her head again, he saw that she was crying. Tears shimmered on her cheeks. “You’re right. What you say is true. I’m sorry, Brendan.” She turned and walked away.

  Brendan suddenly felt ashamed of himself. So what if she was helping him to help herself? Did that make her so terrible? Did that give him the right to attack her? He reached out his hand, about to call her back …

  “BRENDAN!” A voice suddenly pierced his head like a spike driving between his ears. He cried out and fell to his knees. “BRENDAN! COME TO ME NOW!”

  Brendan fell on his face on the frozen sidewalk. When he rolled over onto his back, he saw that he was in front of Lord Lansdowne School. The black rock loomed over him. It seemed huge, about to topple down and crush him with its infinite weight.

  “No!” Brendan cried out. “NO! Get away from me!”

  “BRENDAN!” the voiced howled in his head. “YOU MUST HELP ME! I’M TRAPPED IN HERE!” The voice filled his whole mind and soul. It was rife with need and pain and anger. There was something else. Beneath the pain and anger was blackness, an abyss of unnatural hunger.

  “LEAVE ME ALONE!” Brendan shouted at the top of his lungs. He could feel something clawing at his consciousness, trying to unravel the edge of his mind like a cat tugging at a ball of yarn. It was a sickening feeling.

  “Brendan! Brendan!” A voice spoke nearby. “Brendan? Are you all right?”

  “LEAVE ME ALONE!” Brendan screamed, pushing the speaker away. Suddenly, the voice was gone and he could think again. Charlie had fallen over the low fence that surrounded the stone. He must have pushed her without realizing. Instantly, he reached for her hand and helped her to her feet again.

  “I’m sorry,” Brendan said automatically. “I heard a voice. That rock … It spoke to me.”

  “Spoke to you?” Charlie said in surprise. She turned and cast an appraising eye on the rough surface of the stone, her focus suddenly on it rather than Brendan. “Has this happened before?”

  Brendan got to his feet. He felt shaky. “Once or twice.” He raised a hand to touch Charlie’s arm but she absently batted it away.

  “And it was with this rock? Only this rock?”

  “Yeah. What’s the matter with you?”

  “I must go,” Charlie said suddenly.

  “Where? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I j
ust forgot I had to do something.” Charlie turned to go.

  Brendan grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “I’m sorry I hurt you. Why are you acting so weird all of a sudden?”

  She pulled away from him, flowing effortlessly from his grasp. “See you at the Gathering tonight, Brendan.” Before he could speak again, she raced away.

  Puzzled, Brendan stood watching the place where she’d disappeared from sight. “That was weird,” he said to no one in particular. He looked once again at the rock, fearful of hearing that insistent voice once more, but it seemed to be inert now, a simple lump of stone. Finally, Brendan went on his way. He was late for school.

  The last day of school before the Christmas break had a festive air. Students in the halls greeted Brendan cheerfully as he went from class to class. The classes themselves were lax and easy (except for algebra, which sucked as much as ever). The teachers had brought in baked goods and candies, and the physics teacher even brought a punch bowl full of eggnog. Brendan would normally have enjoyed the light mood, but his mind was weighed down with fears of the upcoming Proving.

  He would have liked to talk to Harold and Dmitri. Although he couldn’t have told them everything that was bothering him, just talking to them would have been nice. But they weren’t in school today. When Brendan asked his homeroom teacher where they were, he was told that both had called the office to say they were sick. They weren’t the only ones. A lot of kids had decided to start the holiday early, but Harold and Dmitri never cut class. Even stranger, today they’d been scheduled to present their social studies project. Brendan couldn’t believe they’d bailed, but he was relieved. He’d forgotten all about the dumb project and now he was off the hook.

  Bereft of their company, Brendan drifted through French and chemistry, listening in as other kids talked excitedly about what they’d be doing over the holidays: visiting family, going to Florida, skiing. Their plans sounded simple and wonderful. He wished his life were like theirs. Instead, he’d be going through an ordeal at the hands of beings from legends.