Sean Cullen - The Prince of Two Tribes

He recognized the voice, though he’d heard it only once before.

“Father?”

“Yes, son.”

“What’s happening?”

“You hold Dawn Cleaver. It is tuning itself to you. The sword served me and will serve you now. We are connected for a very short time.”

“Where are you? How can I hear you?”

“We may speak now, if only for a moment.”

“Pukh brought the sword for my Proving.”

“I am aware. Dawn Cleaver told me what is happening.”

“It speaks to you?”

“Yes, as it will to you. Listen to me. We haven’t long.”

“But I have questions.” Brendan couldn’t believe he was talking to his father. He had so many things he wanted to ask him about, things that he’d thought of since the last time they’d met in the basement of the orphanage.

“I know you have, my son, but I need to speak to you now. I cannot maintain the link between us for long. Listen to me. Do not trust Pukh. He has plans that serve only himself. No matter what he says, he does not have your welfare in mind.”

“I figured that out for myself.”

“Clever boy. Do you remember the name I gave you?”

Brendan remembered the afternoon in the basement, when Orcadia fell and Briach breached the veil between this world and the Other Side to initiate him. He remembered the secret name his father had whispered in his ear. He’d never told a soul, just as his father instructed.

“I’ll never forget it.”

“Share it only with the one you trust most.”

“How will I know who the right one is? And why is my secret name so important?”

“It is the key to controlling your heart and soul. Those who know it can make you do what they wish, even bring about your death.”

“Seems like a dumb thing to have then. Why did you even tell me?”

Brendan sensed Briach laughing. “Breandan, you are a delightful boy. I wish we had more time. Just keep the name safe.”

“How will I know when it’s time to share it?” “You’ll know. Finally, do not tell anyone about the rock.”

“The Snoring Rock.”

“Exactly. Tell no one. Especially Pukh. Now I must go. I haven’t the strength to hold on.”

“Father!”

“Yes?”

“I… I wish you were here.”

“I wish I were there, too. Take care, my son. Farewell.”

“No! Wait! Don’t… ”

The next Brendan knew, he was on his knees on the platform, the sword held in both hands in front of him. His cheeks were wet with tears. He blinked his eyes clear and looked up into the face of his aunt Deirdre.

“Are you all right, Brendan?” Her grey eyes were full of concern. She helped him to stand.

“I’m fine, I think,” Brendan croaked. He looked at the sword. The blade glowed with a soft green fire. The humming had faded to a faint echo, a ghost of itself, still present but muted. Brendan lowered the blade and saw that Pukh was looking at him, the deep brown eyes blazing with a disturbing light. It was the hungry gaze of an animal that promised to devour Brendan if he wasn’t cautious. When Pukh saw that Brendan was returning his stare, his face resumed its mask of amusement.

“You passed my test, Brendan,” Pukh said with a mocking bow. “I am satisfied.” He turned to step down from the rock but stopped and shot a smile over his shoulder. “I believe the sword is yours now. I look forward to the day when you come to Tir na nOg to claim the rest of your father’s possessions.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Brendan muttered. Deirdre crushed him in her arms, planting a wet kiss on his cheek.

“Gross, Aunt Deirdre,” he groaned, but secretly he didn’t mind at all.

“If the judges are all satisfied…?” Ariel broke in. He looked first to Kitsune Kai, flanked by her Kappa guards. She nodded. He looked to Deirdre, who merely smiled. Pukh assented with a wave of his hand. “Then we have heard from all concerned, and-”

“Not all!” a voice called from the crowd.

“Who speaks?” Ariel said sternly. “Show yourself!”

“Gladly!” There was a murmur from the Faerie throng that swelled as a path cleared to allow a single person through. “Give me a moment. I’m not as young as I once was.”

The crowd buzzed with excitement as Merddyn clambered up onto the stone. He was dressed in the same tweed suit he’d worn in the doughnut shop. He looked every inch a doddering, elderly man afraid of a fall that might break his hip.

Brendan sprang forward to offer his hand to the Ancient Faerie.

“Thank you, dear boy.” Merddyn gratefully took the proffered hand. His knotty hand was surprisingly strong. Brendan realized that any show of frailty was just that: a show.

“You were never young, Merddyn,” Pukh quipped. “But you were always a little feeble.”

“I enjoyed your test, Pukh.” Merddyn smiled back. “Test the boy and do some spring cleaning at the same time.”

“Well, Merddyn,” Ariel said, recovering from his shock at Merddyn’s surprise appearance. “I wish you’d told us you’d be here. You could have presided over the Proving. You are the most senior.”

Merddyn raised a hand. “Not at all. You’ve done a wonderful job. I wouldn’t have dreamed of usurping your place.

No, not at all. I think everyone has performed their duties extremely well. Kitsune, very entertaining display.” Kitsune bowed slightly, hands pressed together. Her guards bowed with her. “Deirdre, very moving. Love a good song!” Deirdre nodded and smiled. “And Pukh, crafty. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The crowd watched the old man’s every move. He made a small circuit of the rock, his head down, seemingly deep in thought. Finally, he stopped in front of Brendan. The sky-blue eyes locked onto Brendan’s. They were as kind and as deep as Brendan remembered from the night they’d met in the doughnut shop. Merddyn gave him a wink and turned to the throng.

“You have done very well, Brendan. These tests were difficult and you have passed with flying colours. I, however, would like to claim my right to test you. I am the most senior here. Are there any who dispute my right?” Silence greeted his query. None would dare question the renowned Merddyn. He smiled. “Excellent.”

Merddyn stood blinking at the crowd, his eyes watering, as though suddenly confused about what he was doing there.

“Any time, old fellow,” Pukh called. There was a smattering of laughter. Pukh smirked and acknowledged his admirers.

Merddyn puffed out his cheeks and blew out a breath. “Quite right. A Proving, is it? What shall it be?”

“How about a memory test?” Pukh suggested, winning more titters.

Merddyn chuckled. “Indeed. Not very spectacular, however. People love a show. How about fire?”

He raised a hand and a sheet of flame leapt up from the ground to surround the rock. The crowd scrambled back to avoid the fire. Brendan felt his eyebrows singe. Just when Brendan was having difficulty breathing in the baking heat, Merddyn dismissed the flames with a flick of his wrist.

“Too gaudy, I think, eh, Pukh?” The crowd laughed. Pukh was silent. He gave a little shrug, obviously annoyed.

“Lightning?”

He raised a hand and out of the overcast sky, a fork of purple light scorched the air, slamming into the stone platform between Brendan and the old Faerie. The sonic boom as the lightning struck was deafening. Brendan had trouble keeping his feet, and many in the crowd were knocked to the ground or threw themselves down, covering their heads. Brendan’s nostrils sang with the metallic smell of ozone.

Merddyn stood completely unaware of the effect his display was having on the crowd. He shook his head slightly. “No, too heavy-handed. Can’t savour lightning. It’s over too quickly.” He looked at Brendan, his blue eyes no longer the watery orbs of an aged man but instead sharp, clear windows to a well of impossible power. Brendan dreaded to contemplate what the old man might finally decide on.