by Sean Cullen
“This is the blanket you were wrapped in when you arrived at St. Bart’s. I knew just looking at it, it were of Faerie design.” He looked into Brendan’s eyes. “Remember now, we have a bargain. Ye won’t be grabbin’ this token and runnin’ off. We have a deal.”
Brendan nodded his assent. Finbar removed his hand. With trembling fingers, he undid the bundle of cloth. BLT leaned forward on his shoulder as the token was revealed.
The amulet glimmered warmly in the honey-coloured light. The intricate gold chain shimmered softly, thin links spread across the cloth like a golden string. The amulet was a circular golden medallion filled with swirling gold lettering that spelled his name in elegantly flowing script: BREANDAN. The Faerie spelling, Brendan noted. Four gemstones studded the letters in no discernible pattern he could make out.
Brendan reached out and traced the letters with his fingertip. Surprisingly, the gold was warm, almost like a living thing. In spite of that, Brendan shivered. He felt a current of energy, a sympathetic vibration thrumming through his skin at the point of contact. He was meant to have the amulet. Nothing in his life had ever seemed more certain to him. He opened his hand to grasp it.
“Before you take yon bauble, My Prince”— Finbar’s voice was firm. Brendan looked up into the pale blue eyes—”remember your pledge to me. You will give me what I desire.”
“I remember.” Brendan nodded. He turned his eyes back to the amulet. He swallowed loudly and reached for it, closing his fingers around it.
Nothing happened. There was no burst of energy. No sudden understanding dawned in his mind. He had no epiphany, nor did he gain super-strength. He was still Brendan Clair, only now, he held a finely crafted piece of personalized jewellery in his hand.
Brendan was slightly disappointed. He’d expected something to happen. “Is that it?”
BLT shrugged. “It’s just a piece of jewellery until you are initiated. Looks nice though, don’t you think?”
Brendan raised the amulet, spreading the chain and dropping it over his head. It slid beneath his shirt and lay against his skin, warm and heavy.
“So,” Brendan said. “I have what I came for and I thank you, Finbar. Now I have to go back to the Swan to be initiated. Tell me what you want from me.”
Finbar’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I want to go back!” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.
“Go back?” Brendan was shaken by the man’s tears. “I don’t understand. Go back where?”
Finbar stepped close to Brendan, his eyes filled with need. “I want to go back and live among the Fair Folk again. I want to go back home.”
“I still don’t get it,” Brendan said. “You’re Human. You aren’t a Faerie.”
“Oh,” Finbar moaned, “you’re wrong, lad.” He tore open his shirt and revealed a terrible puckered scar on his chest. The mark was in the shape of a circle with a strange symbol burned into its centre.
“Aaaah!” BLT sighed. “Now I understand!”
“Well, could you fill me in?” Brendan was getting annoyed.
BLT hovered between them and explained. “He bears the mark of an Exile. When a Faerie transgresses against the Truce, he stands the chance of being sentenced to Exile in the Human world. A great and fearsome magic is worked upon the criminal, stripping him of all of his Faerie Gifts, save long life. Then he is cast out and ostracized by the Faerie World. None may reveal themselves to him on pain of Exile themselves. He is doomed to know of the Faerie World and long for it but never be a part of it again. It explains how he was able to take the amulet from you. He was once a Faerie.”
Brendan looked at the abject misery in Finbar’s eyes. “How horrible,” Brendan said. “Why? What did you do?”
Finbar hung his head. “I fell in love with a Human woman.” When he looked up, his eyes shone with tears. “She was beautiful. I couldn’t help but love her. I wanted her to know everything about me. I told her of the secret world, the world she couldn’t see, and I took her for my wife.”
“I don’t understand,” Brendan said. “What was your crime?”
“Unions between Humans and Faeries are forbidden,” BLT said. “The punishment is Exile.”
“I’ve been so lonely, wandering the world trying to forget the woman I’d loved and the world I’d lost,” Finbar sobbed. “When you arrived here, I saw my chance. I stole the amulet and waited for you to return for it. Then I would strike my bargain with ye.”
Brendan shook his head in disbelief. He looked at the misery in Finbar’s face and felt he couldn’t be angry for the pain the old man had put him through. How could anyone be so cruel as to punish someone for falling in love? The more he thought about Finbar’s case, the more outraged he felt. What if he were to fall in love with Marina Kaprillian? Or rather, what if she fell in love with him (highly unlikely but he was just imagining)? Would that mean he would be Exiled, too? It was ridiculous!
“How can the Exile be reversed?” Brendan demanded. “What do I have to do?”
BLT’s face went blank. “There’s nothing anyone can do. Exile is irreversible.”
“There must be something,” Brendan said, looking at Finbar’s stricken face.
BLT shook her head with a look of genuine sadness. Finbar sobbed and sat down on his cot. The old man hid his face in his hands and wept bitterly. Brendan sat down beside him.
“I’m sorry,” Brendan said softly. “I don’t know what I can do. Why would you even want to come back if you love her so much? How could you bear to leave her behind?”
Finbar wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his coat and looked at Brendan. “She’s been dead nigh on two centuries. My Aislinn died of fever during the Famine in 1832. We were forced to stay on a ship off the coast until the fever took those it infected. The survivors were put ashore in this new land and I was among them. Now, I’m doomed to live without her.”
Brendan couldn’t imagine how it might be to live with that kind of sadness forever. He would want to come back to the people he knew and seek solace. What if his parents turned him away when he needed them most? He couldn’t imagine a worse loneliness. He laid a hand on the amulet nestled warmly against his chest. There must be something he could do.
“I made you a promise, Finbar,” Brendan said firmly. “I will do my best to honour it. I will do everything I can to have your Exile lifted.”
“Oh my.” The icy tone was all too familiar now. Brendan looked up to see Orcadia sauntering into the lamplight. “Such authority as befits a prince of your standing, Breandan. Making promises you can’t possibly keep.”
Brendan stood up to face her. He tried to put on a brave face despite the terror that was flooding through him. BLT fluttered to rest on his shoulder. “I’ve found my token. I will be initiated. I won’t let you stop me. Step aside.”
“I don’t think so.” Orcadia smiled sweetly. “You’ve led me on a winding path, young nephew, and managed quite well considering you had no idea what you were doing. You certainly made me look foolish back there at the hospital. That’s all over now. Greenleaf and D’Anaan and Ariel”—she spat the names as if they were poison on her tongue—”they cannot help you now. I’ll give you one more chance. You must come with me and join my cause, make war on the Humans and be my right hand.” The smile left her face. “Or you will die.”
82 Bairn is an old Scottish word for child. The origin of the term is unknown. Some say that in the distant past, Scottish people mistakenly believed that children were actually little bears. This seems far-fetched. Another theory is that babies, being born naked, were referred to as “litle bare ones,” which over time was transformed into the shorter term “bairns.” It’s odd that BLT would use a Scottish term. Perhaps this hints at an earlier Scottish ancestry.
FAMILY
Brendan concentrated with all his might and said, slowly and clearly, “Leave me alone!”
Orcadia laughed, waving a scolding finger playfully at him. “Not this time! You caught me off guard once. Now I
know what you’re capable of and I won’t be Compelled a second time.” She glared at him. “So much power and so raw! Let me teach you how to harness your strength! Together, we will make the Humans bow to us. The Fair Folk will rule the Earth again, as they were always meant to!”
Brendan shook his head. “I won’t join you. I’ve lived among Humans my whole life. I know they aren’t perfect. They can be selfish. They can be cruel. They don’t always do what’s best …” His mind was full of the trip through the lake with Oona. “Maybe they don’t know how lucky they are to have such a beautiful world to call their own, but they are my people even though I’m not Human myself. My parents took me in and loved me, tried to make sure I was a good person. My friends helped me when I needed them and asked for nothing in return.” As he spoke, Brendan’s voice became stronger, more sure. “Humans made a mess of the Earth, it’s true. I won’t give up on them, though. They just need to be shown how to change.”
Orcadia listened to his speech with a smirk on her face. When he was done, she shook her head in mock sadness. “What a little fool you are. You can’t see the big picture. I think you need help to focus your mind.” Orcadia raised a pale hand and beckoned to the shadows behind her.
“No!” Brendan cried as his sister, Delia, stepped into the light. Orcadia must have grabbed her on her way to school. She was dressed in her uniform and her feet were caked in muck, but she didn’t seem to notice. The blank expression on her face made it obvious to Brendan that she was under Orcadia’s power.
“Let her go,” Brendan said through gritted teeth. “Now.”
“I don’t think I will.” Orcadia tapped her chin in a mockery of contemplation. “No. I won’t do it. Unless, of course, you join me.”
“Never,” Brendan said. “If you harm her in any way, I will make you pay for it.”
“Oh, that is truly funny. You will make me pay. You haven’t got a chance, Breandan. No one can help you! You’re uninitiated. The only friends you have are Humans, a sawed-off pipsqueak of a Lesser Faerie, and a miserable Exile. Oh, no, no, no, my dear foolish nephew. I can do whatever I want and you can’t stop me.” Orcadia turned to Delia. “Sweetheart, pick up those garden shears, will you?”
Obediently, Delia reached out and plucked a pair of shears out of a barrel nearby. She held them up. The rusty blades gleamed dully in the lamplight.
Brendan’s mouth went dry. “Don’t …” he whispered.
“Now, Delia dear, put the blade to your throat.”
Without hesitation, Delia raised the blades and pressed the sharp edge upward under her chin.
“Stop it!” Brendan could barely speak he was so terrified.
Orcadia turned her attention back to Brendan. “Now, Brendan. I will give you one last opportunity to see the error of your ways. Pledge yourself to me and I will let her live. Refuse, and I’ll order her to cut her own throat.”
Brendan was completely helpless. He knew he couldn’t let his sister die. She had been the bane of his existence for as long as he could remember, teasing him, playing tricks on him, insulting him. He’d always thought that he couldn’t stand her. Now, when she was about to be taken away from him forever, he knew that despite all the crap she put him through, he loved her.
With that realization, Brendan suddenly felt a surge of strength. His worry and his fear were overwhelmed by another emotion so powerful it flooded his heart and ignited his mind. He looked at Orcadia’s smug face, smirking back at him, and the fire in his heart intensified to an almost painful degree. The emotion that possessed him was anger.
Orcadia seemed to sense the change in him. Her smirk slipped slightly. She took a step backward as he raised his hand and pointed at her. He channelled all his rage into one word.
“No!”
The effect was immediate. Orcadia was hurled backward as if a giant fist had smashed her in the chest. She flew through stacks of rubbish on her way across the cluttered cellar. Brendan heard, rather than saw, her hit the far wall.
Delia dropped the shears and fell into a heap on the concrete floor like a marionette whose strings had been severed.
“Oh-ho!” BLT crowed, pumping her fist in triumph. “You nailed her good. A Shout!83I wouldn’t have believed it unless I’d seen it!” She capered in mid-air in a bizarre hovering victory dance.
Brendan rushed to Delia’s side. She was breathing easily, almost as if she was in a deep sleep. Finbar came up behind him.
“She’s all right, lad,” the old man assured him. “Just in a deep sleep.”
A searing blast of energy sailed over their heads and smashed into the furnace. The cot was set alight.
“Get her out of here,” Brendan demanded. Finbar gathered Delia into his arms as Brendan stood to face Orcadia.
She walked toward him, blasting stacks of junk out of her way to clear a path. “You dare strike me, whelp?”
“I told you before,” Brendan said firmly with a bravado he didn’t feel. “I don’t like it when you call me names.”
“I’ll do worse than that.” She raised her hands, and a ball of bristling purple energy coalesced between her palms. “Die!” She flung the ball toward him.
Brendan’s intention was to duck out of the way. In his panic, he willed himself to move aside. As soon as he framed the desperate thought, a strange thing happened.
The world seemed to slow down. It was as if some divine being had pressed “Slow” on the DVD of the universe. He saw the ball approaching, and he had all the time in the world. He watched, fascinated, as the energy tumbled toward him, plumes of force erupting and dying back into the orb like tiny solar flares on the surface of a miniature sun. He turned his head and saw BLT hovering in space, her face frozen in wide-eyed fright. Her tiny wings, usually a blur of movement impossible for the naked eye to follow, flapped in slow and languid strokes.
Brendan looked the other way and saw Finbar with Delia in his arms moving toward the stairs with infinite slowness.
I’m warping! Like that Bartender Saskia. They called her a Warp Warrior. I’ve speeded up. It’s awesome!
In the time he’d been marvelling at the Warp phenomenon, the energy ball had moved closer by a couple of metres. Brendan looked around and his eyes settled on a baseball bat sticking out of a barrel.
“That’ll do nicely,” he said.
First, he grabbed the handle of the bat and pulled it out of the box. Next, he dashed across the cellar, ducking under the ball of energy on his way. He stopped directly in front of Orcadia and studied her snarling face, full of rage and hatred. Brendan’s own rage welled up inside him. He cocked the bat preparing to smack the helpless Faerie in the side of the skull.
Instead, he paused. Despite all the trouble she’s caused I couldn’t just smash her like that. It’s too … too much like her. Walking over to the ball of energy inching through the air, he stood in its path and slightly to the side. He took up a batter stance, waggling the tip of the bat in the air. He’d never been good at sports. He’d always been clumsy, uncoordinated. Now, though, he had all the time in the world. He felt completely in control. Being a Faerie had brought him a lot of pain, discomfort, and terror, but there was an upside. Taking careful aim, he swung the bat and connected with the ball of energy.
Time returned to normal.
The impact shivered up through his forearms. The bat shattered in his hands. The wood scorched. The ball of energy went sailing like a rocket, up into the wooden beams overhead. The wood exploded, and the upper floor fell in a cascade of rubble onto the surprised Orcadia, who disappeared under an avalanche of debris.
“Home run,” Brendan said with grim satisfaction. The warping seemed to have drained his strength. He staggered, his limbs quivering and his arms aching from the swing of the bat.
A piece of stray wood tumbled through the air and struck the oil lamp on the table. The lamp shattered, sending burning oil scattering across the piles of rubbish. Immediately, the rubbish began to burn.
“By the W
ild Hunt! You’re a Warp Warrior!” BLT cried. “This is totally incredible.”
Brendan didn’t hear her. He didn’t hear the crackle of the flames or Finbar’s cries for him to get out of the cellar. He was completely focused on Orcadia lying in the rubble at his feet.
She moaned and tried to rise, but Brendan wouldn’t let her. He placed his foot on her shoulder and pushed her back to the floor, pinning her down. Blood, red but tinged with a hint of purple, glistened in her pale hair where a stray piece of falling debris had struck her in the scalp. She looked up at him with hatred in her eyes.
“Well,” she rasped. “What are you waiting for? You have to kill me. If you don’t, I’ll find a way to kill you.”
Brendan sneered, “You really are pathetic. I’d be doing the world a favour.”
“Then do it!”
He still held the stump of the bat in his hand. He looked at it and made a decision.
“I won’t be like you,” he said. He tossed the bat aside. Flames licked the walls all around them now. The smoke was growing thick. “I won’t be a killer. My parents taught me right from wrong. My Human parents, that is.”
“Fool,” Orcadia snarled. She struggled to rise. “If my brother could see what you’ve become, he’d be disgusted.”
“Don’t be so quick to put words in my mouth, Orcadia.” The voice was deep and strong. Brendan turned to see where it was coming from. In the centre of the flames raging in the cellar, a shadow appeared. Brendan backed away toward the stairs as a tall Faerie stepped out of the heart of the flames. “I think he is an exceptional child.”
Brendan looked into the face of the newcomer. His skin was white as milk and his lips a thin bloodless line. He had pale blond hair and violet eyes.
