Sean Cullen: The Prince of Two Tribes

Finally, Merddyn snapped his fingers. “I know. A test of stone.”

Merddyn clapped his hands once, sharply. Suddenly the stone beneath Brendan’s feet became like water. In a split second, he sank into the liquid rock. He barely had time to snatch a lungful of air before the fluid rock closed over his head. Once he was submerged, the rock solidified once again, encasing him in a pitch-dark tomb of stone. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t even breathe. Brendan felt the icy rock pressing in all around him and prepared for the end.

^ 62 Hearing Deirdre D’Anaan sing is one of the greatest pleasures in the Human or the Faerie world. Her rare recordings and live performances for the People of Metal are treasured, though she is careful to weave glamours into her music that discourage the attention of critics and award committees. Even among Faeries, her voice is a legendary force. It is said that she can split stone or call down lightning with a well-turned melody.

Oh my! Brendan is trapped inside a stone. That wouldn’t be fun, would it? I went through a similar experience once. I was trapped in a closet at my parents’ house. My sister, the one who is now in prison, locked me in after telling me to search for hidden Christmas presents. She locked me in there for three days, feeding me only pita bread, a food which can be easily slid under a door. When I was thirsty, she trickled water through the keyhole. Not very pleasant. The water tasted of keys. So, Brendan is trapped in a stone and his friends and his sister are trapped in a tent. I’d prefer the tent, as I’m sure you would, too. I don’t like camping, though. I have bathroom issues. Another thing I don’t like about camping is that bears have easy access to you. Whereas bears would never trouble you in your thirtieth-floor condo suite, they tend to find tents quite irresistible. The canvas of a tent, in my opinion, is like a giant tortilla wrapper with the human inhabitants as the delicious filling. If I go camping, I usually suspend myself from a high tree branch to sleep. As a result I rarely sleep, and therefore I try not to go camping.

Why not never camp at all? I’d love it if that were possible, but camps have campfires and I’m often called on to tell tales around them. It’s a part of my job I don’t enjoy. Still, one takes the good with the bad.

I suppose you’d like to get back to the story now. I understand. There’s a lot going on. I just thought you’d like to spend some time with me. I get lonely, you know.

Where were we. Oh yes! Brendan has found a way to pass all the tests and looks to be in the clear. He’s had a little psychic powwow with his father and earned Dawn Cleaver, a very awesome sword. Just when everything seems to be smooth sailing, up crops Merddyn with a final test. Brendan is trapped in a stone! Will he escape? And what about the little party of spies captured by Pukh’s minions? What of them? We have quite a few unravelled threads to wind up. Let’s not waste any time! Onward!

Brendan’s first instinct was to panic. He wanted to thrash and scream, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even open his mouth to make a sound because the stone had sealed around him like the plastic wrap his mother used to vacuum-seal leftovers.

The darkness was complete. He was physically trapped. The only part of him that could move was his mind. He had to get his thoughts under control, quash the animal terror at being buried alive, and find a way out of his tomb.

Think! Think! Think! This is the test. You have to figure it out or you’re finished!

He pushed aside the urgency that was building in his lungs as the breath he’d taken was leached of oxygen. Merddyn wouldn’t have done this to him if he couldn’t survive. There had to be a way.

He tried to remember their conversation in the doughnut shop.

“The universe is full of energy. It’s alive with it,” Merddyn had said. “We could tap into it readily and manipulate it to do anything we wished.”

Energy? Brendan’s mind grasped at that straw. It seemed to be important. Is that it? Everything is energy. Every leaf and flower. Water and air? Stone?

Brendan was really in need of a breath now. He had no idea how long he’d been encased in the stone. It could have been a second or a minute. He had to figure it out.

Calm. Calm. Think… The stone. His mind snagged on the memory of the Snoring Rock. If a rock could speak, could he speak to a rock?

Worth a try. I haven’t got any other options.

He focused his mind and shouted. Hey!

Nothing.

Hey! Hey! In his mind, he was screaming.

His lungs were burning now. He was seeing spots of colour in his eyes, though no light could exist in the centre of a solid rock. He knew he was failing.

Hey!

Something stirred. A heavy, leaden presence blearily prodded the edge of his mind.

Mmmmmm?

Brendan’s heart skipped. Was he actually talking to a rock?

I’m stuck in here, he thought as loudly as he could. I need to get out!

There was no response save for a grinding rumble. If anything, the grip of the stone tightened. Brendan’s ribs creaked. The threat of suffocation was compounded by the possibility of being physically crushed.

Now that he had the rock’s attention, he was finding it hard to concentrate. The claustrophobia threatened to shred his will. The cold weight of the stone all around him was overwhelming.

You’re crushing me! I need you to let me out!

Once again, there was no response, no words in his head, but he thought he sensed interest, the ponderous thought process of an infinitely slow and patient mind considering what he was saying. He imagined the mind of the stone, sitting for centuries in one place with only a dim awareness of the passage of time. Such a mind would take a long time to stir. Brendan had to waken the rock somehow.

His eyes were open within the stone but there was nothing to see. Coloured spots began to swim in his vision. He was being asphyxiated. He caught himself slipping into unconsciousness and willed himself to stay awake, to stay focused. Brendan thought about Merddyn and their conversation in the doughnut shop. All things are connected. No. Not just connected, they are one. An image blossomed in his brain: a doughnut shifting its shape, becoming a pebble, becoming feathers, becoming a flame.

He mustered his last shred of energy and refocused on the stone. He forced his thoughts to reach out and see it. The rough hardness of the rock filled his mind. He willed himself deeper, like flipping a magnifying lens in front of his thoughts, and saw the minute structures that made up the stone, the glittering crystals stacked and linked. He pushed deeper and saw the structure within those crystals, infinitely tiny bits of matter vibrating slowly as they hung in space, a universe of atoms. Brendan saw what he must do.

What is happening? The rock’s voice suddenly filled his head like an avalanche, almost shattering his concentration.

Don’t be afraid. Brendan sent the thought laden with soothing emotion. I must do this to continue in my existence. You will not be harmed.

It is… strange.

Satisfied that the stone wouldn’t interfere, Brendan returned to his task. He saw the tiny particles of matter dangling in space. With a finger of thought, he reached out and tapped one. That particle collided with the next, and the next. A cascade of tiny collisions rippled out from a single atom, a wave of movement that changed the state of the stone.

This is disturbing, the stone’s voice quavered. I fear it.

Brendan, on the other hand, was no longer afraid. The stone’s grip was loosening. He pushed against the stone and it gave way before him.