by Sean Cullen
“Charlie?”
“Yes. She grew up in the Human world, ignorant of our ways. I thought she might be the clean slate I was looking for. Alas, I found her too late. She’d already been partially trained by a native Shaman. Her mind had been set. Her ability is quite unique and beautiful, don’t you think? Quite unlike anyone else’s in the Faerie world.”
“She’s kind of terrifying. I wouldn’t want to cross anyone who could turn into a bear if I got them upset,” Brendan said. “Wait a minute, though. Isn’t she a shape-shifter? There’s a guy at the Swan of Liir on the Ward’s Island who can change into a lion.”
“Ah, yes. Leonard! Charming fellow. You’re right, he is a shape-shifter, but shape-shifters can assume the shape of only one animal. Charlie has several in her repertoire.”
“Oh.” Brendan nodded. “I see. Okay, I’m unique. I understand that. I don’t mean any disrespect but … so what?”
The old Faerie became serious. His pale blue eyes locked on Brendan’s and held him fast. “Brendan, I have stood by and watched for countless years as this world has gone on its way. I’ve tried my best to tweak things onto a better course, to forestall a dark future that haunts my dreams. We are living in a dark time. The balance is slipping. The Earth is suffering. She is sick from centuries of neglect and exploitation to the point that she may fail completely. Something must be done.”
Brendan felt a cold fist clench his heart. He held up his hands in protest. “No. Don’t do this to me. Don’t tell me I’m the only hope for a dying world. Are you kidding me? I’ll lose it, I promise you.”
“No, not the only hope. But I believe you are a part of a solution,” Merddyn insisted. “Together with others who share our wish for a better world, we can possibly reverse the damage before it’s too late.”
“Do you people ever stop?” Brendan shouted. “You’re all trying to drive me insane. ‘You’ve gotta find an amulet!’ ‘You’ve gotta master your powers.’ ‘You’ve gotta pass a test or die trying.’ ‘You need to save the world!’ Seriously? I’m just a kid. I should be hanging out with my friends and playing video games. Instead, I’m running from psycho Faeries! Oh, and of course a girl who can change into a deer, a bear, and a wild pig!” Brendan stood up and marched for the door. He whirled and pointed at Merddyn. “Who do you people think you are? None of you care about me! You all have your games you’re playing, and you want me to jump in and join you. Well, I don’t want to. I wish I’d never found out about all this stuff. I wish Deirdre had just left me alone and let Orcadia kill me.”
“It’s no game, Brendan.” Merddyn’s voice was soft. He gently shook his head. “I wish things were different, easier for you. I have no right to ask anything of you. I am only appealing to you who have family in both worlds to think about helping me. I need you. Your families, both Human and Faerie, need you.”
Brendan felt the anger drain out of him. He looked at Merddyn and saw not a powerful wizard out of legend, but a desperately weary old man asking for help.
“I’m sorry,” Brendan said. “It’s just … so much. I have to think. Will you be coming to the Proving?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Merddyn said. “And Brendan? Can you keep our little meeting just between the two of us? Like you, I value my privacy.”
Brendan nodded. Then he turned and fled into the night.
Edgar folded up his newspaper, picked up a pot of coffee from the warmer, and came over to Merddyn’s table. “More coffee, sir?”
“A little. Thank you, Edgar.”
Pouring the coffee, Edgar said, “He’s a nice kid. He’ll come around.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I run a doughnut shop. You get a feel for people.”
Merddyn smiled. “I guess I’ll just have to have faith in your judgment, Edgar.”
“I’m never wrong.”
“I used to think the same thing a few thousand years ago.” Merddyn smiled sadly and turned his attention to the important task of choosing another doughnut.
46 The term idiot savant is old-fashioned now. It was used to describe someone who was capable of accomplishing one very complicated task, despite being of below normal intelligence or mentally challenged. For example, a person whose brain was faulty in some way and couldn’t speak might perform extremely complicated mathematical functions in his or her head. I once knew a beaver that could slap out pi to the three-hundredth decimal place. It wasn’t an idiot savant, however; it was merely amazing.
DAWN FLYERS
Brendan had left the doughnut shop intending to go home. Instead, he’d found himself running, faster and faster. At first, he had no idea where he was going. He just needed to move. He didn’t want to think about anything but speed. It was the only way he could wipe his mind and exhaust himself to the point where he could fall asleep. At last, he went home and crawled into bed without even changing into his pyjamas.
For the next three days, he was irritable and distracted. His parents were too busy with work and Christmas preparations to notice his mood. Delia, surprisingly, stayed out of his way. He went to school and sleepwalked through classes, alone. Charlie didn’t come around, as if sensing that the meeting with Merddyn had left him needing some time and space to himself. Each night he waited until he was sure everyone was asleep and then, once again, he raced through the streets, trying to banish his worry and confusion with the burning sizzle of the warp singing in his blood.
On the third night, the night before the Proving, he followed the Humber River north into the countryside. As he left the blaze of city lights behind, he could see the stars wheeling above him. Now and then, a star raced steadily across the blackness: a satellite, his father had told him years ago. He was always amazed that the works of Humans were visible in space, a sign that they were constantly reaching for more in the universe. Brendan turned and swung across the top of the city, ghosting along just outside the reach of the halogen lamps that lit the freeway, until he reached the Don River and headed south.
South he flashed, keeping to the back alleys, staying in the shadows and away from the people who frequented the nighttime streets. The speed didn’t come easily to him now. His mind was troubled, turning over what Merddyn had told him. How could he be so important? How could he be the key to anything? He looked up to the stars but could barely see them in the wash of light pollution.
Humans have no idea how much more there is to the world. Even my parents, with their recycling and green habits, will never see it the way I can, the pain and the poison. I can feel it in the air. I can feel it my lungs when I breathe. If I think too much about it, I’ll go insane!
He staggered to a halt in the shadowed doorway of St. Michael’s Church, in the heart of the winter city. The streets were quiet save for a few late revellers. He couldn’t see them but he heard the mobs heading along Church Street. They shouted back and forth, sang at the top of their lungs. He envied them their easy mood. He found himself sliding dangerously toward self-pity.
He leaned back against the weathered wooden door of the cathedral. Christmas with his family was probably his favourite time. His mum and dad were big fans of the holiday and tried to impart its traditions to their kids. There was midnight mass on Christmas Eve, though they rarely went to church any other day. They came here, to St. Michael’s. Brendan closed his eyes and tried to remember the smell of the incense and the sound of the choir as it filled the vaulted space.
He needed some peace. He couldn’t catch his breath. Everything was just too much: the revelation of his true heritage, and now the pressure of the Proving. To top it all off, here was Merddyn, the great Merlin himself, telling Brendan that the fate of the world might rest on his shoulders. How could he hope to bear such a heavy burden? Only weeks ago, the biggest thing he’d had to worry about was his crush on Marina Kaprillian. Now he wasn’t sure if he’d live to come back to this church with his family on Christmas Eve.
He didn’t hear Kim’s approach. Suddenly, her voice
was in his ear.
“There you are!” Kim melted out of the shadows and trotted toward him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. People were worried sick.”
“Oh,” Brendan grunted. “Well, you’ve found me. You can go tell everyone I’m fine.”
“Wow. Hello, Grumpy-Pants! It’s nice to see you, too.”
Brendan didn’t speak as she settled down next to him on the steps.
“Look who’s talking,” Brendan shot back. “You haven’t exactly been all sweetness and light, you know!”
Kim glowered but said nothing. They leaned against the door in silence for a moment, listening to the people laughing and singing.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“What’s wrong?” He laughed bitterly. “What isn’t wrong?”
“It’s not that bad, Brendan.”
“You don’t think so? I may die at the Proving!”
“You probably won’t, though.”
“Why not?” Brendan said softly, hanging his head. “What makes you so sure?”
Kim smiled her lopsided smile. “You always manage to surprise everyone. I believe in you.”
“Well, that makes one of us.”
“And … ”
“And what?”
Kim took his chin in her hand and lifted his head until he was looking into her almond-shaped brown eyes. “And I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”
As Brendan studied her familiar face, the angle of her chin, her high cheekbones, the dark, glossy hair falling over her forehead, he realized suddenly how glad he was to see her. Charlie had shown up and stolen his attention. The lutin had stepped into his life and pulled him into her orbit. He’d neglected not only his friendship with Harold and Dmitri, but his friendship with Kim, too. He saw that she’d been hurt by that, and he felt ashamed.
Kim sensed his discomfort and mercifully let go of his chin. “All right, pal. It’s time to blow off some steam. I know just the thing. Follow me.”
She set off across the churchyard, her field hockey stick swinging back and forth on her back like a pendulum. After a moment’s hesitation, he followed her.
He didn’t know where they were going until she turned down a street and the looming spire of the CN Tower rose into the night before them. Year-round, the tower’s elevator shafts that crawled up the sides were lit up, but during the holidays, the lights were bright green and red, transforming the grey concrete finger into a gargantuan candy cane. Even through the cloud of his tension and worry, the sight lifted Brendan’s spirits. He felt a swell of fondness for the city he called home.
As they drew closer they were joined by others heading to the tower. Faeries emerged from the alleyways and side streets until a small group of colourfully dressed travellers coalesced into a throng. Some carried bundles on their backs, tightly rolled tubes of bright fabric and sticks that looked like tent poles.
“Hey, Ki-Mata! How’s it going?” a Faerie called, falling into step with them. She was carrying a multicoloured bundle on her back. She smiled at Brendan. “Hey, Brendan! I’ve never seen you out here before.”
Brendan recognized Cassie, the barista from the Hot Pot. Gone was the bland apron and Human disguise. She was out in all her Faerie glory. Her hair was aglow with filaments of silver wire woven into her dark tresses. She wore a tight jumpsuit of muted sky-blue and grey. “Hi. No, I guess not,” Brendan admitted. “What’s going on? Where are all these people headed?”
Cassie shared a sly look with Kim and slapped his back. “You’ll see!”
They jogged up the ramp by the baseball stadium and down into the open space at the foot of the tower. There they found a metal door propped open. The band of Faeries entered a dark room, hooting and shouting at one another, sending echoes all around. As Brendan’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he realized they were at the bottom of a winding staircase. He looked up but the top was hidden from sight.
A Faerie man with a bright vermillion mohawk waving from the top of his head shouted, “Last one to the top is a Dwarf’s underpants.” Then he sprinted up the stairs out of sight. The others catcalled and shouted after him before setting off in hot pursuit.
“Come on, Brendan,” Kim laughed. “Believe me, you don’t want to be a Dwarf’s underpants!” She pushed him toward the stairs, and soon they were taking the treads two at a time.
Brendan had been to the top of the tower before, but only on one of the super-fast elevators. Running up in the dark was a totally different experience. He’d read somewhere that the staircase had thousands of steps: it was over half a kilometre high.47 In his old life, he would have succumbed to exhaustion after a hundred, if he hadn’t already tripped over his clumsy feet and bounced all the way back down to the bottom. Now he took the steps with ease. He fell into an easy rhythm, pumping his arms and breathing easily. He started to enjoy himself, losing himself in the physical exertion. He easily matched Kim’s pace and even had to hold back a little to avoid outpacing her. Soon they caught up to the pack. They joined the jostling, laughing mass surging upwards through the dark.
Moments like these made him forget the new responsibilities that weighed on him. His worries over his family, the upcoming Proving, the conversation with Merddyn all dissolved in the simple pleasure of his physical existence. He relished being alive and being part of the joy of the Faeries around him.
All too soon, the group reached the top of the stairs. The last runner was jeered good-naturedly as he arrived on the landing. He was a short, wiry Faerie with luminous grey eyes. “I ain’t got long legs, ya know. Gimme a break.”
They were standing at what appeared to be a blank concrete wall. The stairwell simply ended.
“What now?” Brendan asked.
“Watch!” Kim said. The group reached out and grasped hands. Brendan took Kim’s and Cassie’s hands in his. Once all of the members of the group had established physical contact with someone, they began to sing.
The song had no recognizable words. They merely opened their mouths and uttered a soft, breathy sigh. Brendan tried to follow the lead of the others. He was self-conscious at first, but as the moment stretched out, he let himself go. The sound began as a single note sung in unison. Then individuals diverged, some sliding up, some sliding down, until the concrete space was vibrating with a lush, achingly beautiful chord that reverberated through Brendan’s body. He’d never felt anything so gorgeous, and he wanted to stay in that moment for as long as he could.
The chord crescendoed, and suddenly the wall before them shuddered and flowed away. A fresh, bitingly cold wind washed over them. The singers stopped and shouldered their burdens once more. Together, they stepped out onto an open platform. Brendan’s jaw dropped. The whole of the city, the lake, and the islands spread out before him.
“Neat, huh?” Kim laughed at his dumbstruck expression.
“The Dawn Flyers?”
“You got it, Brendan.” Cassie smiled. People were shrugging their bundles off and unwrapping them. Brendan watched as they assembled what amounted to broad kites, like the outstretched wings of gulls with harnesses at the centre. Brendan wandered around the platform, watching the work with undisguised fascination. As the wind whipped around them, they constantly struggled to keep the gliders from being plucked away.
Brendan walked to the edge of the platform. The ledge ran all the way around the central column of the tower. A roof of opaque resin or crystal kept the snow and some of the wind off the fliers as they prepared their equipment. Brendan gripped a support post and leaned out to look down. A hundred metres below, he saw the roof of the observation platform. He’d been there before with his parents and had stood on the glass floor and felt his stomach drop away as he saw the ground so far below. This platform was higher still and nowhere near as safe or enclosed. He should have felt pure terror, but instead he felt exhilarated. He was higher than any Human had been on the tower since a helicopter had lowered the spire four decades ago.
“Brendan!�
�
He turned to see Kim pulling a set of the wings onto her back. The others were pulling straps and tightening harnesses. The wings could be folded in close to the body like a bird’s wings. Elaborate hinges and joints tensed and loosened as the fliers tested their contraptions.
Kim walked toward him. “There are a couple of extra sets of wings here. You wanna come?”
Brendan shook his head. “Are you kidding me? I’d totally kill myself. Or barf. It’s a mile to the ground.”
“C’mon! Don’t be a big baby!” Kim cajoled.
“No. No way! I’ll walk down and see you on the ground.”
“All right. Have it your way.” Kim suddenly pointed out toward the islands. “What’s that?”
Brendan turned to look. He saw only sky and the dark hump of the Toronto Islands. Lights twinkled here and there. “I don’t see anythioooof!”
Kim slammed into him from behind and pushed him out into space.
47 It’s actually 553.3 metres tall. I don’t mean to be a stickler, but .
THE WILD HUNT
Brendan’s heart was hammering against his ribs. He wanted to scream in terror, but he couldn’t get any air into his panicconstricted lungs. He heard Kim’s hysterical cackle close to his ear. She had her arms wrapped tightly around his chest.
“Here we go! WOOOOOOOOOO!”
“Are you insane?” Brendan screamed, but the sound was whipped away by the air ripping past his face as they plummeted toward the base of the tower.
“Relax, granny!” Kim shouted. “I just need to find an updraft!”
The ground was rushing at them very fast now. The grey concrete was expanding to fill Brendan’s vision. He just had time to wonder if Kim had been hired to kill him when wings snapped open on either side, and with a crackle of taut silk they were swooping up again, skimming over the sidewalk at a height of about a hundred metres. The wind was lifting them steadily. They rose higher and higher up over the rail lines and the expressway, with its trail of red tail lights snaking by below. Then they were over the condos on the waterfront and the lake itself.
