The Prince of Two Tribes

by Sean Cullen

  BREAKING THE CIRCLE

  “The judges have chosen their champion,” Pûkh announced. The room became hushed once more. “Lugh Silverhair of the Long Arm shall have the task.”

  The tall Faerie bowed his head and stepped forward. He looked at Brendan, his grey eyes emotionless, and Brendan felt his heart flutter. He steeled himself to hide any outward sign of fear.

  “I’m ready,” Brendan said. “Let’s do this.”

  Merddyn had been standing back, content to watch events unfold. Now he stepped forward with a piece of ver million chalk held high. “I will draw the circle.” He looked at Brendan pointedly. “Only I can release you from it.”

  As he bent to begin, Brendan was distracted by Chester’s voice. “Brendan!”

  Brendan squatted beside his former enemy. “What is it, Chester? I’m a little busy.”

  “Just be careful,” Chester said quietly. “This guy is big and strong with a long reach. Stay outside until you know you have a clear shot, then duck in under and hammer him in close.”

  Brendan laughed. “I’ll try to remember that when he’s wiping the floor with me.”

  “Seriously,” Chester insisted. “I do mixed martial arts. I know what I’m talking about. And Brendan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks. I mean it. I’m glad you helped me out, even if you didn’t mean to.”

  A lump formed in Brendan’s throat. He looked at Dmitri and Harold and they both smiled. They were plainly worried, but they trusted him. It meant a lot. Finally, he looked at his sister.

  Delia frowned. “You are a total jerk wad, but don’t worry about that right now. Whatever you do, don’t lose. Mum and Dad won’t be happy about it.” The look in her eyes hinted that she might not be happy about losing him either. He smiled at her and bent down to kiss her forehead. “You’re gonna make me puke,” she said and smiled. Brendan laughed and stood up.

  Kim was waiting to say something, but instead she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. He hugged her back. She broke her grip and said, “Do your best.” Then she stepped away.

  Merddyn had drawn three-quarters of the circle on the polished floor of the pub. The crowd backed away, forming a ring outside the circle of chalk. Lugh stepped through the open section and entered the circle. Brendan took a deep breath before following. BLT distracted him by fluttering down onto his shoulder.

  “I’ll come with you,” she said, her tiny mouth set grimly in a line.

  “No. It isn’t allowed.”

  “But I would if I could.”

  “I know.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.” Brendan dug in his pocket and pulled out a caramel wrapped in cellophane. He handed the sweet to the Lesser Faerie. It was the size of a cinderblock in her tiny hands. “I was saving it for Christmas but … “

  BLT’s eyes filled with tiny tears. “I’ll save it for later and celebrate your victory.”

  She fluttered away, struggling with her burden. Brendan scanned the room for Greenleaf and Deirdre. They waved to him. Deirdre’s forehead was creased by a frown and her long, elegant fingers worried at the cloth of her gown. Greenleaf merely smiled and nodded.

  Brendan was distracted by Charlie’s arrival. She pushed her way through to join Merddyn at the edge of the crowd. Merddyn whispered something in her ear and she shook her head. Brendan was surprised when he saw her look across to where Pûkh was standing and lock eyes with the Lord of Tír na nÓg. Pûkh’s eyes narrowed and then he smiled.

  Sensing Brendan watching her, Charlie looked up. As soon as she met his gaze, she slid her eyes away, as if she were ashamed to look at him. Brendan wondered again what Charlie’s heated conversation with Lugh had been about. Nevertheless, he was glad she was here.

  Finally, Brendan looked to Merddyn. The old man’s face was serene, his ancient eyes as deep as the sea. When that gaze met his, Brendan felt calmness settle over him as he stepped in to meet his fate, a confidence that he had no business feeling. He wondered if Merddyn had subtly worked some glamour on him. Then Merddyn closed the circle. A sheet of energy flared around the combatants and then died, though both of them knew the barrier was in place.

  Brendan faced his opponent. Lugh was easily half a metre taller than him. His long arms hung loosely at his sides in lazy readiness. The long face held no emotion, no clue as to his intention, so when his first blow raked out, Brendan had to react quickly and duck under the massive hand that clawed at him.

  The fight was on.

  The high stakes and the danger to his friends and sister all helped Brendan slip naturally into a warp state, but it wasn’t easy to maintain it. He was distracted by the noise of the crowd shouting around him. He had thought he was home free after the Proving, and he’d let his guard down. Now he was fighting for his life. He had to focus.

  Chester’s advice to stay outside Lugh’s reach was easier said than done. His opponent was so tall that when he swung an arm at him, Brendan had to dance dangerously close to the edge of the circle. He inadvertently bumped the barrier twice, scorching his left shoulder and his ankle. Lugh kept up a constant barrage of attacks that kept Brendan on the defensive.

  Brendan’s training with Saskia had given him a basic understanding of hand-to-hand combat. But nothing could have prepared him for the ferocity of a true fight. Lugh was intent on hurting him, drawing blood. He wanted to cripple him and finish the fight. Brendan had to want to do the same. He had his hands full just keeping out of the reach of the tall Faerie’s hatchet-like hands. Lugh didn’t even break a sweat. Brendan had a vague strategy in mind: let the big guy wear himself out early and then look for an opening. Lugh didn’t seem to be tiring at all. Instead, Brendan found that he himself was breathing hard. He tried to keep his feet moving and prayed for Lugh to make some mistake he could take advantage of.

  At last, he saw a chance. Lugh overbalanced after a massive swing that Brendan managed to avoid by a hair’s breadth. Brendan stepped inside the arc of the swing and cocked his fist for a blow to Lugh’s face. For a fraction of an instant, Brendan hesitated. He’d never hurt anyone on purpose in his life. After landing a blow on Saskia, which had been more accidental than premeditated, he’d been guilt-ridden, though she’d laughed it off. Now, faced with the prospect of hurting another person intentionally, he balked.

  Lugh took advantage of his scruples, cracking Brendan in the cheekbone with a sharp elbow on his backswing. Brendan felt like a train had hit him. Pain exploded in his head and he staggered against the barrier of the circle. Purple lightning stung his back and flung him to his knees.

  He was dimly aware of the crowd shouting, some in delight, most with dismay. He had trouble clearing his vision. He tried to stand, but his limbs seemed to be hung with lead. Something warm dripped from his chin. Raising his face, he saw something looming over him. A building? It was a tree, and the tree had a face. The tree was grinning.

  “Brendan!” a voice was shouting. “Get up, Brendan!” He knew that voice. He blinked. Some of the fuzziness left his vision, but his head still buzzed. He saw the tree wasn’t a tree at all but a man. The man was rearing back with his arm raised. That didn’t seem good to Brendan. It seemed very bad. The arm, a giant fist attached, raced toward his skull like the head of a sledgehammer. Brendan frowned.

  I don’t think so, he said to himself. He saw the air in front of the fist. He saw the tiny particles of matter that formed the air he breathed and the vastly larger motes of dust that ploughed through them. He sent a thought out to the particles, suggesting they gather in the path of the fist. They did so, reluctantly at first, but then quicker and quicker until they formed a dense, gluey soup, slowing the fist in its advance. Brendan praised the tiny particles, thanking them for their help. They responded by calling more of their fellows, and soon the fist was completely arrested.

  Lugh’s fist halted a centimetre from Brendan’s forehead. The silver-haired Faerie’s face was a parody of shock. He looked at his
fist in disbelief. He leaned with all his weight on the invisible barrier but to no avail.

  The crowd watched in awed silence. They couldn’t understand what was happening. Only Merddyn and Pûkh, standing side by side, were not shocked. There was an eager gleam in Pûkh’s eye and Merddyn smiled benignly.

  “He sees,” Pûkh whispers.

  “Indeed,” Merddyn agreed. “He has the gift.”

  Brendan, in the meantime, was finding it difficult to keep his little army of particles motivated. This was not their normal state and they longed to be free.

  Just one more thing and you are free, Brendan assured them. He asked them for one last burst of cohesion. The particles responded. They collapsed inward around Lugh’s fist in a sudden spasm. A loud crack resounded in the hushed silence.

  Lugh howled in pain. Brendan thanked the particles and allowed them to disperse. While Lugh staggered back, cradling the wrist of his now fractured hand, Brendan stood and wiped the blood from his cheek. The pain had dwindled slightly to a dull throb. He watched his opponent take deep breaths, trying to calm the agony in his broken hand.

  “Do you give up?” Brendan asked. He didn’t see how Lugh could continue the fight.

  Lugh raised his grey eyes in an icy glare. Those eyes were so full of hatred that Brendan almost took a step backwards. Lugh let his useless hand drop to his side. “I do not yield to you, Princeling. I will not yield while I still breathe.”

  “This is a fight until someone can’t fight anymore. You’re badly hurt. Don’t you think you should give up? Save us any more pain?”

  Lugh grinned, showing sharp incisors. “You believe what you will, little boy. We’re in the circle now. None may interfere.” Reaching inside his tunic, he drew out a long, glittering dagger, its blade an opaque sliver of crystal. The edge flashed in the light, hungry for blood. The crowd erupted in shouting and jeering.

  Brendan looked to Merddyn, but the old Faerie didn’t move to intervene.

  “You must stop them,” Deirdre begged him.

  “Have a little faith in your nephew, Deirdre,” Merddyn said.

  A roar washed over the crowd and the people parted to reveal a lion with gnashing golden teeth. It launched itself against the barrier. The barrier erupted in purple energy, flinging the magnificent creature back, its pelt smoking. Immediately, the beast sprung to its feet and launched itself against the circle again with the same result. Saskia was instantly at the lion’s side.

  “Stop, Leonard,” she cried, burying her face in the lion’s mane. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

  The creature’s fur rippled and flowed until Leonard lay there in her arms, his skin scorched and his hair smoking. His eyes were wild with fury.

  “This isn’t what we agreed!” Deirdre cried. She lunged forward but Greenleaf caught her arm.

  “The circle is closed. It cannot be broken,” Greenleaf said.

  “This must stop,” Ariel demanded.

  “There’s nothing that can be done,” Pûkh said, his face a mask of regret. “The circle is sacred.”

  “Merddyn,” Deirdre begged. “You must break it.”

  Merddyn shook his head. “I will not interfere. This, more than any other trial, is Brendan’s true Proving.”

  In frustration, Deirdre spun away, her fists clenched.

  Kim stepped up to the barrier behind Brendan and whispered urgently, “Break the circle, Brendan. You’ve done it once. You can do it again.”

  Brendan shook his head, never taking his eyes from Lugh’s. “I don’t cheat.”

  “Wake up. Lugh’s already broken the rules. He and Pûkh want to kill you. They’re afraid of you.”

  Brendan spared her a glance and a wry smile. “You think so? Wait until I beat this creep. They’ll really have something to be scared of.”

  “Brendan … ” she pleaded, but he cut her off.

  “No, Kim. I’ve got to show them that no matter what they do, they won’t beat me. If I lose, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  He saw Mâya’s eyes widen with hungry delight and stepped aside instinctively as Lugh lunged at him. The blade skittered with a flash of sparks across the barrier where Brendan had been standing the instant before. Lugh checked his momentum, spinning and crouching with the knife extended, his broken hand hanging limp at his side.

  Brendan sidestepped lightly around the outer edge of the circle, keeping his opponent as far away as he could.

  “You can’t run forever, Brendan Morn.”

  “Come over and get me, Lugh. I’ll break your other hand for you,” Brendan said with a bravado he didn’t really feel. Lugh was still plenty dangerous, and the knife was an unwelcome addition.

  Without warning, Lugh lunged at him. Feinting high, he came in with a sweeping slash that Brendan almost managed to avoid, willing himself to become as thin as possible. Despite his best efforts, the tip of the blade opened a long wound down the ribs of his left side. White fire sizzled in the wound. Lugh didn’t give him a respite, slashing back and forth swiftly. Brendan, his T-shirt quickly soaking through with his own blood, wove back and forth, finally leaping up, stepping onto Lugh’s shoulder, and pitching himself into a somersault. He landed easily on the floor in a crouch. Lugh spun to see Brendan waiting for him and sneered before renewing his assault.

  Dmitri, Harold, Chester, and Delia huddled together and tried to watch the contest. It was impossible to follow. The movements of the combatants were blindingly fast, blurs of speed punctuated by moments of relative stillness as Brendan and Lugh sized each other up between attacks.

  “I had no idea Brendan could do this stuff,” Dmitri said in awe.

  “I wish I had my sketchbook,” Harold said wistfully.

  “You guys!” Delia sneered. “This isn’t some school field trip. This creep is trying to kill Brendan!”

  “What do you care?” Dmitri said quietly. “He isn’t really your brother.”

  Delia glared at Dmitri. “That’s not fair.”

  Chester shrugged. “Don’t worry. He’ll beat this dude.”

  “How can you be sure?” Delia asked.

  “He’s made the guy mad and anger makes you sloppy,” Chester explained. “Wait and see.”

  Inside the circle, Brendan and Lugh were partners in an intricate dance. They improvised the steps as they went along. It was a strange sort of dance with the partners never touching, avoiding each other by the narrowest of margins. Lugh’s face was a mask of anger and frustration while Brendan’s held a blank calm, though the sweat was streaming down his face. The battle went on and on with neither gaining the upper hand. Both were suffering from their injuries but they didn’t let up. Brendan had lost his aversion to harming Lugh after the knife became part of the equation. Now it was a matter of survival.

  In the end, Brendan’s injuries caught up with him. Blood from the wound on his ribs dripped down his side and onto the floor, making the footing slippery. The floor was one massive sheet of polished oak, nurtured and crafted by generations of Masters of the Green Arts. The surface was slick at the best of times, but with his smooth-soled running shoes and the blood on the floor, Brendan lost his balance and fell with a crash onto his back. In an instant, Lugh was on him, slamming a massive foot onto his chest and pinning him to the floor. Brendan strained against the weight, but the tall Faerie held him fast. Brendan ceased struggling and looked up into the face of his assailant.

  “Well fought,” Lugh said with a leer. “Few could press me the way you have. You should be proud of yourself in the moment before I send you to the Far Lands.”

  “Stop this!” Deirdre begged from outside the circle. “This is pointless.”

  Pûkh shook his head in a show of great sorrow. “Alas, what can we do? The circle cannot be broken.”

  BLT raced around and around the circle. “Do it, Brendan! Break the circle!”

  Kim shrieked at Brendan. “Break it! Break it, Brendan! Show him!”

  Brendan turned his head to Kim. “Don’t be a
fraid. It’s all right!” He turned back and smiled up at Lugh. “Do your worst.”

  Lugh grinned savagely and raised the dagger above his head.

  Brendan didn’t move. The fear he had felt when he’d stepped into the circle with Lugh was gone. He felt only calm. During the frenzy of the fight, he had found a quiet place in the centre of his heart. He recalled the song that his aunt had drawn from him during the Proving and let it fill his being, guide his movements. He recalled the conversation with Merddyn in the doughnut shop and had a moment of wonderful clarity. He saw the blade glinting in the light and the strings of tiny crystals that made up its structure. The words he had heard while trapped inside the stone came to him with sudden urgency. All things are one. As the deadly point of the dagger quivered, ready to seek his heart, Brendan saw what he had to do. The thought of it made him laugh.

  Lugh paused, a puzzled expression on his dour face. “Why do you laugh?”

  “All things are one!” Brendan said. He grinned like a fool and focused his mind, seeing the change he wished to make and willing it to occur.

  Lugh’s weapon shimmered, quivered. Then the solid substance of the dagger began to flow into a new form.

  The blade shortened and melted into an altogether new shape. Where there had once been a deadly blade in Lugh’s hand, there was now a ring of pastry with multicoloured sprinkles on top. Lugh stared in utter disbelief.

  “What is this?” he roared.

  “A doughnut,” Brendan replied placidly. “A Hawaiian doughnut, to be precise.” Brendan shot a glance at Merddyn, who was grinning with delight.

  Lugh, infuriated, crushed the doughnut and flung it away. He bunched his good fist and prepared to drive it into Brendan’s skull. Suddenly, the wood beneath his feet changed state and became a sticky brown liquid. Lugh sank into the floor up to his ankles, and the wood became solid again. His eyes went wide with surprise. Brendan smiled grimly and swung his arm with all his strength, striking Lugh’s shin just above the floor. There was a loud crack. Lugh howled in agony and fell backwards. The floor flowed open beneath him as he landed and then washed back over him, hardening so that his entire torso was trapped in the wood. Of his head, only his face was exposed. Terror filled his eyes.