by Sean Cullen
“You know, it never ceases to amaze me how the truly important people I have dealt with throughout history haven’t understood their place in the grand scheme of things. I don’t know if it’s humility, ignorance, or wilful pigheadedness. Take Arthur, for example. He was a lovely boy, perceptive, kind, and clever, but slightly foolish. When he pulled the sword from the stone, or anvil I should say, he was ready to give it to anyone who was willing to take it from him. He needed so much cajoling, but in the end he became the man and the king he was meant to be in spite of himself.”
“If I remember, things didn’t work out too well for him,” Brendan pointed out.
“How so?”
“Well, he got killed, didn’t he? By his own son?”
“Not exactly killed, but that’s beside the point. And was he a failure? People everywhere revere him as a great king. The name of King Arthur is symbolic of nobility and righteousness. Everyone remembers Arthur. Very few remember his son.”
“Mordred?”
“Yes. Annoying little twerp,” Merddyn snorted. “But to the point: why you specifically? Many reasons, most of which would only confuse you.” Merddyn frowned. “Let me just say this: you are uniquely positioned to make a real difference in the world.”
“Me? How could that be possible?” Brendan cried. “Ask Charlie! Ask Greenleaf! Ask Kim! I can barely manage to control my powers. How could I make a difference in the world?”
Merddyn smiled. “I have asked Greenleaf. He has kept me apprised of your progress, and it was he who sent for my help. I assigned Charlie to assist with your training.”
“You sent her?” Brendan asked in disbelief. He glared at Charlie, who gave him a pained smile in return. “So then you know what a washout I’ve been. She must have told you.”
“Your lack of confidence in yourself would be charming if it weren’t so dangerous. Charlie has a great deal of faith in you, you know. I’d say she has become quite fond of you, in fact. Oh my. She’s blushing. It takes a lot to make Charlie blush.”
“Merddyn, please.” Charlie rolled her eyes.
She’s fond of me? Brendan didn’t know how to feel about that. He was kind of annoyed at her but a little excited by the thought. Why didn’t she tell me who sent her? Would it have made any difference? Probably not, but still … it was a matter of trust, right?
“Brendan, you must take my word for it. You are very special. That’s why I came here to meet you,” Merddyn said.
“I don’t feel special. If you mean ‘special’ as in I should be in a class with kids who need extra help, then yeah, maybe. I feel like an idiot most of the time.”
Merddyn smiled. “Well, Charlie thinks you’re quite gifted. As I said, I’ve been receiving reports. I’ve heard about what you did with the tree. And how you broke the circle.”
Brendan nodded.
“I find the incident with the tree particularly fascinating. Can you tell me about it?”
“I don’t understand it myself.” Brendan shook his head.
“Tell me in your own words,” Merddyn said, placing his elbows on the table. “Describe what it was like with the tree. Just take your time.”
Brendan closed his eyes. He tried to remember exactly how he’d felt that day. He sighed and began to talk. He told Merddyn of his frustration, of how Greenleaf had transformed into Orcadia. He recalled how scared he was when BLT was threatened and the fear he felt for his own life. He related how he’d groped for help as he had done before, and the slumbering mind of the tree had stirred at his entreaty and defended him.
“It was like talking to the birds or bugs,” he concluded. “I’ve done that before. It was a matter of focusing harder,I guess. I wasn’t able to get the tree to let Greenleaf go afterwards. I couldn’t get that focus back no matter how hard I tried.”
Merddyn had hardly spoken as Brendan recalled the events. He asked the odd question now and then, prodding him for details. Mostly, he listened. Looking into those soft blue eyes, Brendan felt he could be entirely honest, entirely at ease. It felt good to talk to someone who seemed to understand him so completely. When Brendan finally finished, Merddyn leaned back in his chair and silently contemplated the boy across the table. Brendan found it quite disconcerting.
“Well,” Brendan asked impatiently. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Wrong?” Merddyn blinked and then laughed as if he’d never heard anything so ridiculous. “Wrong! Nothing is wrong, my dear boy, nothing at all. In fact, I suspect that a number of things are exactly right. Difficult but right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Forgive me, Brendan. I’m just trying to figure out how to explain this to you. You see, I haven’t met anyone in centuries, perhaps longer, who has been even remotely capable of understanding.”
“Are you talking about me? I don’t understand anything!” Brendan threw up his hands in frustration. He looked into Merddyn’s blue eyes and saw sympathy there, and a little sadness, too.
Merddyn said, “Brendan, please. I know this is overwhelming. I’ll tell you what I know and what you can understand.”
Brendan hesitated. He looked to Charlie, who smiled encouragingly. Reassured, he sat back.
“Greenleaf wasn’t exactly right when he said that you exhibited a new kind of Talent. It’s really quite an old Talent. And I should know, Brendan. I am one of the oldest of the Ancients. There are few of us left who remember the time before the Pact. Even fewer remember what it was like when the People of the Moon and Metal lived in harmony at the dawn of the world.”
Charlie rose from the table. “I have heard this tale many times. I’ll leave you two to talk. It’s snowing!” She went to the door and opened it, breathing deeply. “I love the snow.” She dashed out into the night.
Merddyn chuckled softly. “She has a lovely spirit. She had a hard start in this life, much like your own.”
Brendan nodded. “She told me.”
“Indeed. I see you two have become close.”
Brendan reddened. “It’s not like that.”
“Of course not,” Merddyn chuckled. “It never is like that until the moment when it suddenly is like that, and then it’s too late.” Merddyn sighed, suddenly melancholy. “I feel sorrow for the girl.”
“She’s like me. She never knew her parents. It’s worse for her, though. She never even knew who they were.”
“Yes, it weighs upon her heavily. I have promised to find out who her real parents are. Not as easy as one might expect. It’s a real mystery, in fact.”
Brendan sighed. “I met my father, if only for a few moments … ”
For once, Merddyn looked astonished. “You met your father? How is that possible?”
“I’m not exactly sure. He came to me for only a moment, and he said it was very hard for him to do. He came when I was fighting Orcadia.”
“Aha! So that’s how you were initiated!” Merddyn clapped his hands. “Old Briach Morn managed to zip over from the Other Side, did he? The old fox.”
Brendan silently cursed himself. “I haven’t even told Kim that. Why did I just blurt it out to you?”
Merddyn laughed, winking slyly. “You have to get up pretty early in the morning to get anything past old Merddyn.” He laughed again and it was an infectious sound. Brendan found he couldn’t help but join in.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a doughnut?” Merddyn said at last, tipping the box toward Brendan.
“No thanks,” Brendan declined. “You were talking about the People of the Moon and Metal.”
“Yes.” Merddyn plucked out a doughnut with pale brown icing. He took a dainty bite and closed his eyes with pleasure. “Mmmm. Maple. I do love it so. Who could imagine a tree might produce such a delightful flavour?”
“Sir?”
“Oh, yes. Two tribes.”
Merddyn began his tale.
45 Renaissance painters were very fond of women with big noses. Leonardo da Vinci was quoted as saying, “A woman is re
ally just the ideal life support system for a large and wonderful nose.” Granted, he was a weirdo.
HISTORY
“The People of Metal and the Fair Folk lived together then. The jealousies and fears that caused the later fracture were yet to rear their ugly heads. The two tribes of Sun and Moon complemented each other, shared each other’s strengths. The balance was kept for many eons.”
“What happened?” Brendan asked. He was having trouble grasping the expanses of time Merddyn was speaking about. Could there really have been a time when Humans and Faeries shared the world?
“What always happens when the world seems too simple and peaceful: there were those in both tribes who grew to mistrust the others. Some of the Fair Folk tired of the People of Metal’s appetite for change and disrespect for the Earth: the digging, mining, burning, and cutting of the forests to build their homes and towns. Among the Humans, some assumed that the Fair Folk harboured secrets and riches that they refused to share with their Human brethren.”
“What was the truth?” Brendan asked.
Merddyn sighed. “The truth is never simple. The Humans tended to take what they needed when they needed it. They lacked the insight of the Fair Folk. They couldn’t feel the harm they did to the Earth. They were like children, unwittingly devouring the world around them as they multiplied and spread to fill its open spaces.
“For our part, we Fair Folk tended to remain aloof from the Humans. Many of us began to look upon them as a nuisance and a burden to be avoided. We started to seek our own company in the wild places, out of reach of the Humans. That was a mistake, but an honest one. It only served to make our actions more mysterious and arouse further suspicion in the Humans. They began to fear us.
“The conflict started with small incidents. Here and there, individuals clashed. Hatred grew. Soon there was open warfare between our tribes. The destruction was terrible and the loss of life unspeakable. Something had to be done to return the peace before one side or the other was destroyed.
“I gathered a council of Fair Folk and Humans and we formed an alliance. We’d fight together to restore order. We knew accommodation with the Humans was necessary. The People of Metal multiplied much faster than we ever could, and one day they would vastly outnumber us. If we didn’t strike some form of pact with them, we would be doomed.
“Others among the Fair Folk believed the opposite. They were determined to subjugate the Humans or annihilate them. These fell-minded Faeries we called the Dark Ones. They marshalled their forces and brought ruin upon the Humans, enslaving or destroying all in their path.
“There was a great battle. The very Earth was reshaped beneath the titanic blows that were struck and the powers that were unleashed on that dark day. In the end, we defeated the Dark Ones. We imprisoned their leaders, the ones who refused to accept defeat, with our strongest Wards. Those who repented of their ways were allowed to go free provided they worked to repair the damage they had wrought.The Pact was struck and we Fair Folk faded from memory, remembered only as demons and ogres in children’s stories. We clung on in the cracks of Human society, and that is where we find ourselves today.”
Merddyn stopped speaking, staring out into the dark night where snowflakes had once again begun to fall. He shook himself. “Forgive me. Wool gathering! I am definitely getting old. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering what all this history has to do with you. Well, bear with me. Everything is connected, you see.”
Merddyn gently pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah,” he said wearily. “We lost so much on that horrible day. So many Ancients went to the Far Lands, or what Humans call heaven. Many others were maimed and chose to pass to the Other Side, cutting themselves off from this world and its woes. Few of us were left, and very few of the truly Ancient Ones like myself survived. Much deep knowledge was lost.”
Merddyn looked up at Brendan and smiled sadly. “How can I begin to describe to you the heartbreak I felt at such waste? You couldn’t grasp it.” He fell silent again.
“What does this have to do with me?” Brendan prompted. “And the tree?”
“Oh.” Merddyn roused himself. “Everything. You see, the Fair Folk who had survived and remained on This Side after the Pact was struck were younger, without the experience of the Ancient Ones. Much lore and wisdom was lost. They scattered far and wide, some passing out of contact with their brethren altogether. I tried to keep us all connected as best I could, but there were few who could help me. Whereas before the Fair Folk had instinctively understood the ebb and flow of the energy that is the lifeblood of the universe, they now comprehended it only in fragments. In the passing centuries, the idea that a Faerie could master only one Talent became the accepted norm.”
“That’s what Greenleaf told me,” Brendan confirmed. “And Ariel, too. Everybody is unusually good at one Talent.”
“But you have more than one. Why?”
“You’re the expert. You tell me!”
“In the Old Times, there were no specialties, no specific Talents or Arts. There were no such distinctions. The universe is full of energy. It’s alive with it. We could tap into it readily and manipulate it to do anything we wished. Let me explain.” Merddyn waved a hand at Edgar. “A glass of water, if you don’t mind, Edgar!”
Edgar complied, filling a tumbler from the tap. He brought it to the table.
“Many thanks,” Merddyn said. Edgar went back to his paper. Merddyn pushed the glass of water into the centre of the table. “Tell me, Brendan. What do you see?”
Brendan shrugged. “A glass of water.”
Merddyn nodded. “That’s one answer. I think there is a better one.”
Though he was seated across from the legendary Merlin himself, Brendan couldn’t help but feel completely exasperated. “Oh, come on, will ya? Does everything have to be some kind of Zen riddle?”
“I like Zen riddles. ‘Koans’ they’re called, by the way. Buddhism has some wonderful mystical traditions. And Buddha himself was a very sweet fellow. So curious and good-hearted. A wonderful student.”
“You’re telling me you taught Buddha?”
“For a brief time. He had the idea already. I just gave him a nudge in the right direction.”
“Buddha was a … one of us?”
“Oh, no! He was a Human. Like Jesus and Mohammed and Zarathustra. Enlightened Humans who saw that there was a pattern underpinning the world we think we know. But that is beside the point. What we have here is a difference in perception. You see a glass of water. I say that within this glass is all the water in the world.”
Brendan just stared. “I don’t get it.”
“You have to see all the water in the world as one thing, no matter how it’s parcelled up. Those partitions—a glass, a lake, a river, an ocean—are all boundaries we place on a thing so that we can better understand it. What they actually do is make it impossible to understand that thing completely.”
Brendan thought about that. “But I can’t possibly hold the image of all the water in the world in my mind. It’s too huge.”
“Better philosophers than I could and would elaborate on this idea, but for our purposes, it isn’t necessary. I just want you to think in a new way.”
“So I’m thinking in a new way,” Brendan conceded. “How does this relate to me, exactly?”
“The energy Faeries draw upon, the energy that fuels our glamours and our Wards, is like that ocean. In the distant past, we were able to see this ocean of energy as a continuous thing, without a beginning and an end. We could manipulate the energy and make the universe do our bidding.
“Now that perception is gone. We’ve lost our ability to see. The Fair Folk now dip a bucket into that proverbial sea and believe that the bucket of water is all there is. There is a problem with our thinking.”
“But I don’t even have a bucket,” Brendan said in exasperation. “I haven’t even got a cup!”
“You’re wrong, Brendan.” Merddyn smiled. “You grew up without the mindset a Faerie usu
ally has when he’s raised in our world. You have no preconceived notions about Talents and Arts. You are having trouble because you can’t understand the restrictions we have come to set upon ourselves. You are unique.”
“I am? I don’t get it. I can’t seem to master any skill.”
“No. You don’t seem to need to master those skills. Because your mind is unrestricted, you can manipulate the energy of the universe spontaneously. When you are pushed by necessity or danger, you just draw on that energy and create what you need to overcome the problem.
“Allow me to illustrate another point. Watch.” He plucked a chocolate-glazed doughnut out of the box. “What is this?”
“A doughnut.”
“Yes, but it is also anything I wish it to be because it is made of energy. I can manipulate that energy with my will.” Merddyn closed his eyes and concentrated. The doughnut shimmered, melted, swirled, and then solidified into a pebble. The small stone remained for only a moment before it, too, transformed into a handful of feathers. The feathers crackled and turned into a blue flame that danced in Merddyn’s wrinkled palm and finally disappeared, rising as smoke toward the rafters. “They are all the same. The doughnut, the stone, the feathers, the flame.”
“Mass is energy,” Brendan said with hushed awe. “Einstein.”
“A clever fellow, Albert. I guess someone has been paying attention in physics class.” Merddyn smiled.
“What about living things?” Brendan said suddenly. “Why not change the doughnut into a bird or something?”
Merddyn frowned. “That’s very difficult. Life is very complicated. To create it means that you must have the insight and wisdom to construct a soul for your creation. Very arrogant and very dangerous.”
“So … what does this mean for me? I can do things because I have no preconceived ideas? I’m some kind of Faerie freak? I’m … what do they call those people … an idiot savant?”46
“A savant, perhaps,” Merddyn agreed. “An idiot? I think not. I believe you are like the Fair Folk when they were in their infancy, in the most Ancient of times. You’re a throwback but a wonderful one. I believe you are what all Faeries should be. When I first heard of you, I was intrigued. I asked Ariel to keep an eye on you and inform me of your progress. What I learned excited me. I’ve been looking for someone like you for a long time. I thought our Charlie might have been the one.”
