by Sean Cullen
PUFFIN CANADA
THE PRINCE OF TWO TRIBES
Comedian SEÁN CULLEN’S many stage and screen credits include the CBC’s Seán Cullen Show and Seán Cullen’s Home for Christmas Special, The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, the Showcase series Slings and Arrows, and the Toronto stage production of The Producers. He is the winner of three Gemini Awards. Seán is also a member of the Stratford Shakespeare Festival Acting Company.
Also by Seán Cullen
HAMISH X
Book One: Hamish X and the Cheese Pirates
Book Two: Hamish X and the Hollow Mountain
Book Three: Hamish X Goes to Providence,
Rhode Island
THE CHRONICLES OF THE MISPLACED PRINCE
Book One: The Prince of Neither Here Nor There
THE PRINCE OF
TWO TRIBES
SEÁN CULLEN
PUFFIN CANADA
Published by the Penguin Group
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First published 2010
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (WEB)
Copyright © The Orb Incorporated, 2010
Lyrics from “Who Taught You to Live Like That” by Sloan (Jay Ferguson, Chris Murphy,
Patrick Pentland, and Andrew Scott) used with permission.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above,
no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into
a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission
of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Publisher’s note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Manufactured in Canada
* * *
LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION
Cullen, Seán, 1965-
The prince of two tribes / Seán Cullen.
ISBN 978-0-14-317122-5
I. Title.
PS8605.U4255P753 2010 jC813’.6 C2010-905121-1
* * *
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All that I do-books, stories, performances-is
dedicated to my wife, Kimberley.
She is constantly writing the story
of my life without the benefit
of an editor, spell checker, or proofreader,
but she always gets it exactly right.
An Introductory Note from the Narrator
Hello again, and welcome to the second instalment of The Chronicles of the Misplaced Prince. I’m so pleased that you’ve decided to read this book. I hope you can read; otherwise, this experience will be frustrating for you. If you’ve read the previous book in the series, you will be aware that Brendan has decided to stay with his Human family despite discovering that he’s really a Faerie.1 Most people would be happy with just one life, but Brendan is determined to have two.
Pretending to be someone you’re not is very difficult. For three years I pretended to be the Dalai Lama. No one was convinced, mainly because I didn’t look like the Dalai Lama. Nor did it help that the Dalai Lama took out ads in major newspapers warning people that I was trying to be him. I finally gave up. I still haven’t forgiven the Dalai Lama.2
Pretending not to be someone you actually are can also be very challenging. In the weeks following the adventure detailed in The Prince of Neither Here Nor There,3 Brendan has been carrying on with his training in the Arts while trying to maintain a normal home life with his Human family. The most difficult part is being unable to share his troubles with his friends. Having erased Harold’s and Dmitri’s memories of the quest for his amulet, he is now utterly alone in the world.4
Fine. I keep having to reference the first book, hoping that you’ve read it. Why you wouldn’t have read it is beyond me. It’s a wonderful story and a brilliantly narrated tale. If it were up to me, I’d just soldier on with the second book. However, my editor has insisted that I take this opportunity to tell you what happened in the first. She has no faith in your powers of memory. She also believes that some of you may be determined not to read the first book and start on the second instead. These types of readers should be discouraged, in my opinion, but you know editors: they try to winkle every last penny out of the reading public and are unwilling to leave any eye uncatered to. So, against my better judgment and wishes, I’II provide a brief synopsis5 of the first book, The Prince of Neither Here Nor There.
Brendan Clair, a fourteen-year-old student of Robertson Davies Academy in Toronto, is a typical adolescent: pimply, clumsy, and awkward. At school, he spends his time with his little cohort of similarly nerdy friends: Harold Chiu, an artistically talented, overweight boy; Dmitri Krosnow, a Polish immigrant who’s trying to master English; and Kim, a sporty tomboy who has hooked up with the group for no apparent reason, given that she’s super-cute (just don’t try to tell her that or she’ll brain you with her field hockey stick). Together, the friends try to negotiate the dangerous waters of the ninth grade while avoiding the attentions of the school bully, Chester Dallaire.
The arrival of a substitute teacher, the mysterious Mr. Greenleaf, sparks off a weird reaction in Brendan. He begins to see and hear things that no one else can. He believes he is going mad. Everything comes to a head when he has a vivid dream in which he is informed by the imposing and terrifying Deirdre D’Anaan that he’s not Human but rather a Faerie who was adopted by a Human family. On waking from the dream, Brendan confronts his parents. They confirm that he is adopted, but they themselves are unaware of the Faerie angle. They believe he is a normal boy whom they rescued from an orphanage as a baby. Brendan’s sister is furious that Brendan is special and becomes even more annoyed with him than usual. For his part, Brendan wishes he wasn’t anything but a normal Human kid.
The next day, on his way to school, Brendan has a series of bizarre experiences: he hears a rock snoring, he talks to a tiny man who claims to be a lord of squirrels, and finally he is accosted by Orcadia Morn, a powerful Sorceress who claims to be his father’s sister, his closest Faerie relative. She wishes him to join her in a war against the Humans. But Kim, who it turns out isn’t a regular teenage girl but rather a Faerie assigned to protect him, engineers their escape. They race thr
ough the subways and sewers of Toronto, encountering magical beings along the way, and end up on the Island of the Ward at the Faerie Refuge of the Swan of Liir. The Swan, and indeed the entire island, is a meeting place for the Faerie Folk of Toronto.
Terribly exciting, don’t you think? Take a moment if you need it.
At the Swan, Brendan meets other members of his family and learns the stunning truth: that his Faerie mother died in childbirth and, in a fit of grief, his father, the dark and dangerous Briach Morn, suppressed baby Brendan’s true Faerie nature and hid him in a Human orphanage before exiling himself to the Other Side.6 Are you keeping up?
Brendan also learns that before he can be fully fledged in the Faerie world, he must find the amulet that was stolen from him at birth. With no one else to turn to, he enlists Harold and Dmitri to help. Further developments reveal (what, did you think I was going to recite every last detail?) that the amulet is in the possession of a homeless man named Finbar, who’s been a fixture on Brendan’s walk to school and, it turns out, is an Exiled Faerie, no less. Stay with me. After Brendan promises to help him regain his full Faerie status, Finbar leads the boys to the orphanage where Brendan was left all those years ago. That’s when Brendan uses his Faerie powers to erase his friends’ memories of recent events and send them to safety before going in to meet his fate.
Finbar lives in the basement of the now-condemned building, and it is there that Brendan receives his amulet, but not before Orcadia makes a last attempt to destroy him by holding his sister, “Delia, hostage. This prompts Brendan to unleash his powers–powers he didn’t even know he had. Finally, Brendan’s estranged father, Briach Morn, breaks through from the Other Side, pulls Orcadia out of the world, gives Brendan his secret name, and initiates him before returning to the Other Side forever. Phew!
So that, in a nutshell, is what any dumdum should need to get on with the rest of the story. I want you all to know that I wrote the above under protest and will be submitting an official complaint to the Narrators’ Grievance Committee. So there, Editor! Eat that!
As I said before, Brendan is now quite alone in the world. He has Compelled Harold and Dmitri to forget everything that happened. His sister’s memory of events has been similarly expunged.7 Now he must face the challenges of his training alone.
Another fly in the ointment,8 as if one were needed, is that Brendan has developed some kind of block with respect to his Faerie abilities. He can’t connect with the energy of the universe. Something is holding him back. He is increasingly convinced that the problem is a mental block rather than a physical one.
Mental blocks are the most difficult to overcome. They are problems we create for ourselves out of our own fears and hidden desires. I myself have experienced many different forms of mental blocks. Of course, as a narrator, I have experienced Writer’s Block. Most writers refuse to even mention Writer’s Block for fear of contracting the condition. I’m not one of those superstitious types. I have no fear of Writer’s Block. I can say it any number of times and know that it’s not like some kind of virus that will affect my mind, taking away my ability to write. Writer’s Block. See? Still writing! Writer’s Block. Writer’s Block. Writer’s …
…
…
Sweet, blazing fish dumplings! I’m back. Certainly it’s unapparent to you that for the last four months I’ve been going through the most horrendous writing dry spell of my long career. I’ve been sitting looking at the blank page for days on end, weeping in frustration. After intensive therapy I’m finally able to put pen to paper and continue with this story. From now on, I beg you not to mention Writer’s … You-Know-What. Not even in casual conversation. If you have to mention … “it” … do so a good distance away from the book and in a very low voice, preferably with a foreign accent that’s difficult to understand without listening carefully. I will never mention … “the thing” … again. From now on, let’s have a code word for that “thing.” If we must mention it, I will refer to it as “my cousin “Dave,” and you’ll know that what I really mean is Writer’s Block …
…
…
…
That bout was worse than the last. I almost missed the publishing deadline. Please. Please. Please. Don’t mention “my cousin Dave” again or you’ll never find out what happens in The Prince of Two Tribes.
Enough about “my cousin Dave”! Let’s get underway. Many readers have been writing me with questions. “What’s the Pact?” “Are there Faeries in other countries?” “How do Faerie powers work?” “Is a platypus a mammal or a reptile?” All good questions, but only three are relevant to our story. I hope the book will answer them. But I thought the Pact might deserve a little explanation of its own. Therefore, I’ve decided to write a prologue for you, which I have pithily entitled …
1 See Book One of The Chronicles of the Misplaced Prince.
2 Although, annoyingly, the Dalai Lama has forgiven me. Just another reason to be disappointed in him.
3 See Book One of The Chronicles of the Misplaced Prince.
4 See Book One of … oh bother! I suppose I have to recap some of the action in Book One. Otherwise, I’ll be writing the same footnote over and over again.
5 A synopsis is a brief summary of a larger body of work. By its very defi nition, a synopsis is brief, but I added the word brief before synopsis. Why this lack of economy with words? I’m paid on a word-by-word basis. So, in a way, I should be glad of the opportunity to pad my wallet with an unnecessary summary of the fi rst book. And I am, now that I’ve thought it through.
6 The Other Side is a netherworld where Faeries live apart, able to watch our world but not participate in it. A Faerie may return from the Other Side rarely, and only for a brief time.
7 Could have said erased. Said expunged. Deal with it.
8 I’ve often wondered why flies are so attracted to ointment. Very little research is available on the subject.
Prologue
The battle was over.
Black, oily smoke rose, drawn into long, dark ribbons against the leaden sky. In the west the sun hung low on the horizon, staining the blanket of clouds a bloody red. The wind swirled around the hilltop, whipping cyclones of snow around the silent figures who surveyed the battlefield.9
The war was at an end, with great loss to both sides. The Alliance of Free Humans and Fair Folk had defeated the Dark Ones and their army of Human slaves. Now the victors stood on the hill, waiting to decide the terms of peace. Their faces, still begrimed with blood and soot, were grim. Many Humans had been killed and many Fair Folk sent on the final voyage to the Far Lands.10
They stood in the centre of a ring of ancient stones, their black surfaces etched with intricate symbols. Each stone stood higher than a tall man’s head, and together formed a rough crown for the hilltop. In the centre stood a single stone, twice as tall as the others but of the same dark rock. Around this solitary stone, the victors were gathered. Pennants attached to long spears snapped in the breeze.
“A woeful day, my Lords,” said Merddyn, the most senior of the Faeries and leader of the Fair Folk. He appeared to the Humans as an elderly man, though still tall and sound of limb and bright of eye. A long white beard, matted with mud and filth from the battle, hung down the front of his simple black armour. His sinewy arms were bare and patterned with tattoos. “Much is lost, but we have gained an important victory. Our rebellious brothers and sisters have been brought to heel. Now perhaps there will finally be peace between our peoples.”
“Aye, peace,” said the Human King, scowling through his thick beard, black and streaked with grey. His face was smudged with soot and blood, a patch covering the scarred socket where his left eye had once been. “Peace. But for how long? What’s to keep your folk from rising against us once more in times to come?”
“You have no right to insult us in this manner,” one of Merddyn’s commanders said disdainfully. “We have fought by your side to bring the rebels down. We have even slain broth
ers and sisters! Such a sacrifice, turning against our own … ”
Merddyn laid a hand on the Faerie’s shoulder.
“Forgive Ariel.” Merddyn smiled sadly. “The war has been hard on him, especially raising arms against his own brother. To question his sincerity is unkind.”
“I spoke rashly and thoughtlessly. I apologize, Lord Ariel.” The Human King bowed his head slightly. Ariel grudgingly returned the gesture. The King continued. “You have been true to your word, but the fact remains …Your folk live long. I will pass away, and so will my children and their children. How can we ensure that in the future Humans will be safe?”
“The generations of the People of Metal11 may pass quickly compared to ours, but remember this: though your time upon this Earth is shorter, you are also more fertile. You will soon greatly outnumber us. That, in essence, is what sparked the conflict between our peoples.
“The time has come for us to go our separate ways. We separate until Faeries and Humans learn to live together in peace, without jealousy and fear. While we wait for that day, we will come to an agreement. We will mark out the boundaries of our future.”
The Human King nodded grimly. “So be it. We shall have a Pact.”
“First, some unfinished business. We must deal with the prisoners.” Merddyn raised a pale hand and beckoned to a knot of people waiting at the bottom of the hill. The Human and Faerie warriors moved forward, forcing a group of shackled figures ahead of them. The Humans carried heavy swords forged of dull black iron, their armour a hodgepodge of leather and metal plates. They were heavily bearded and scarred, and they were all male. The Faerie warriors also wore armour, crafted of thin pieces of glimmering crystal. In their hands they carried weapons made of the same ghostly material, fancifully carved and decorated but deadly nonetheless.12 The Faerie troops were made up of both male and female warriors, long-limbed, lean, and dangerous. Some bore tattoos that wound in intricate patterns of leaves, stylized animals, and flames over their entire bodies. Shimmering colours tinted their skin and hair.
