Sean Cullen - The Prince of Neither Here Nor There

Or so it appeared to Brendan. A wave of blue fire flared out from her. She was like a star going supernova. In the instant before Brendan buried his face in his hands, he saw Kim whack her field hockey stick against the concrete paving stones. He waited for the end.

It didn’t come. He crouched, his arms over his head, waiting to be incinerated, but nothing happened. Instead, his nostrils were filled with the sharp smell of burning wood, like the fires his father made when they went camping. Because his father always managed to find the dampest wood available, his fires were more smoke than flame. Now there was heat, uncomfortable heat, but he wasn’t being burned alive.

He tentatively lowered his arms and stole a look. His mouth dropped open in amazement. Kim stood in the path of the blue flame, her field hockey stick firmly planted on the concrete. She was humming softly, a haunting, lilting sound that seemed to fill the air around them. Brendan couldn’t believe his eyes. Radiating from the hockey stick, a thick, thorny hedge sprouted in a protective shield. The branches of the hedge were large and black, glistening with sap. Wherever the white fire touched the foliage of the hedge, the sap bubbled and spat, turning to gas and dissipating the heat. Brendan followed the thorny brambles and discovered that the hedge sprouted from a single tiny crack in the pavement where a shoot of green vegetation had managed to force its way out into the light. Kim seemed to be coaxing the wall of thorns from this single small sprout. 52

The heat from the fire was intense. Brendan could feel his hair curling and crisping. The hedge wrapped around them in a cocoon of branches. If he hadn’t been in danger of being incinerated, Brendan would have felt more awe than terror. 53

“What is going on?” he cried. “How are you doing that?” He grabbed Kim’s arm.

The contact startled Kim, her singing faltered, and the hedge contracted. The heat washed closer and their clothing smoked.

“Don’t touch me! I have to concentrate,” Kim shouted at him. Brendan dropped his hand. She picked up the tune again and the melody steadied. The hedge inched outward again and the heat lessened. Sweat beaded on Kim’s brow.

Brendan peered through the branches and saw Orcadia. Her face was twisted with rage. She raised her arms higher. The heat intensified. Kim groaned and the hedge contracted. Brendan studied Kim as she struggled to keep her composure. She clutched the field hockey stick closer, her knuckles whitening on the wood. Her shoulders trembled. Sweat ran down her face and plastered her hair to her forehead. Obviously, the strain on her was tremendous. Brendan had no idea what she was doing or how she was doing it, but he doubted she would be able to do it for much longer.

He had to help her. But how? Who were these people? How could they do these amazing things? They seemed to know him. He’d believed Kim was just an ordinary teenage girl, a high school kid like him, and now she was making trees grow out of nowhere and fighting weird women who could float in the air and shoot lightning from their bodies. What could he hope to do? And why was nobody calling the police?

Beside him, Kim gasped and the hedge contracted.

You’ve gotta do something, Brendan. He looked around him. The parking lot was behind the school, hidden from the busy street. No one was in sight. Kim gasped again. He felt desperation grip him. There has to be something I can do!

In an answer to his mental cry, a switch flipped in his mind. His vision sharpened as if someone had placed a set of goggles over his eyes that allowed him to really focus clearly. He saw each blade of grass, each leaf. He saw the texture of the flame coursing from Orcadia and realized that she was channelling the stray electrical energy from the atmosphere around her, her body like a conduit for the free electrons that might normally form bolts of lightning during a storm. He cast his vision further. He saw how fiercely Orcadia was concentrating to maintain her assault.

That’s it, Brendan realized. Break her concentration. Then we might escape. But how?

In a large oak tree just across the parking lot, he saw a flock of sparrows, crouching in the boughs, taking shelter from the storm they sensed was coming. Their tiny minds appeared to Brendan like glowing motes. It was almost as if he could sense their thoughts.

Fear. Fear. Hide. Shelter, they tittered.

Their tiny minds were so simple. Brendan recalled the squirrels he’d encountered earlier in the day. They were motivated by their quest for food. Maybe I could make a suggestion to these birds, something along the same lines.

Beside him, Kim staggered, falling to one knee. He didn’t have much time. Orcadia’s joy was palpable as she felt the end was near. He had to concentrate. He focused on the birds and sent them a single thought. Food! Food! Food!

He sensed their interest. Food?

He also sensed their fear. Storm?

Food! He concentrated harder. He tried to send them reassurance. The heat was growing and it added urgency to his message. Food! Lots of food!

Yes! Their tiny minds were excited now! Where food?

There! There! He sent them a powerful image of Orcadia’s billowing, ash-blond hair. The birds exploded from the tree, rising from the branches en masse. With a single purpose, they made a beeline for Orcadia’s head.

For her part, Orcadia was concentrating too hard to notice the birds until they struck.

“Aaaargh!” she cried. The white fire faltered and went out. She tried to bat the birds away as they pecked at her scalp, but the thought of food drove the sparrows to greater efforts.

Delighted, Brendan turned to Kim. Calling the birds had made him light-headed with fatigue but he saw that Kim was in worse shape. Her face was pale and haggard. She leaned on the field hockey stick. The hedge withered, its many branches turning to fine grey dust as Brendan watched in stupefied wonder. The wind swirled the dust away, leaving only the tiny shoot of green sprouting in the pavement, unscathed.

“Holy! That was totally sick. How did you do that?” When Brendan turned to Kim with this question, she was staring at him in a similar state of amazement.

“How did you do that?” she demanded.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Brendan answered, suddenly self-conscious. “I just kinda talked them into it.” 54

“You talked to the birds?” Kim was incredulous. “But you’ve had no training, no initiation.”

“He is gifted, indeed.” Mr. Greenleaf’s voice interrupted Kim. He strode down the school steps, neat as a pin in a green suit and yellow vest. The hummingbird perched on his shoulder, its tiny eyes full of impossible intelligence. As Brendan watched, the bird shimmered and changed into a small woman with swiftly beating wings. Her clothing was woven of iridescent feathers of green and blue. She caught Brendan’s eye and winked.

Brendan just stared. “There’s a little person on your shoulder!”

Greenleaf laughed. “This is my companion, Tiziana. You may call her Titi.” The tiny creature waved. Brendan was struck dumb with amazement.

“Can we concentrate, here,” Kim demanded. “This is a disaster. We have to get out of here.”

“We always knew he’d be special.” Greenleaf smiled at Brendan. “But, indeed, there’s no time for discussion now. You have to get him to safety. She’s occupied for now but those birds won’t distract her for long.”

“Nice of you to show up after the fight.” Kim stabbed an accusatory finger at the teacher. “This is your fault. First you show up here and stick your nose in and then your sister breaks the Ward.”

“Deirdre overstepped her bounds. I just wanted to find him but she is overeager. It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.” Greenleaf shrugged.