The Prince of Two Tribes (35 page)

Brendan laid a hand on Chester’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. ‘“I feel worst about what I did to you. I didn’t mean to cause you all that pain. I hope you can forgive me.”

Chester shrugged and smiled. “I should thank you. I was a total ass before you did what you did. My dad died and I lost it for a while. The only way I could deal with his death was by punishing people. You opened my eyes. I’m glad.”

“So,” Delia said. “We’re all BFFs now. Forgive me if I don’t dance around but I’m tied up and someone’s promised to kill me. So, if we can move on here, what’s going to happen?”

Brendan straightened up. “I’ll get you out of this. It’s up to me.”

Kim touched his elbow. “They’re coming back.”

The judges filed into the room and stood in the empty patch of floor facing the little group of prisoners. Ariel addressed the crowd.

“After much debate, we have come to a decision. The prisoners shall not be punished for what they have done.” Brendan breathed a sigh of relief, but his heart fell when Ariel continued. “The true guilt lies with Brendan Morn. Through his reckless use of powers that he did not understand or control, these Humans were able to intrude upon our Gathering. He is now one of us, subject to our Laws and penalties. He must stand in their stead and face the consequences.”

“No!” Kim tried to speak in Brendan’s defence, but Ariel cut her off sharply.

“Silence!” The room was utterly quiet. No one breathed. “Brendan must face a trial to pay the penalty for this crime. We have debated the form this trial should take. In the end, we have decided that Brendan must enter the Circle and undergo a trial of combat.”

“Are you kidding me?” Harold cried. “Are you people for real?”

“SILENCE!” Ariel’s voice was a force of nature, rattling the entire building. Harold quailed. “You have no voice in this, Human! Be grateful that you are still alive. There were those who argued for your execution. Be thankful that more moderate voices spoke in your defence.” Ariel’s voice softened as he nodded to Merddyn. “Brendan will face an opponent of the judges’ choosing and enter the ring. The fight will continue until one or the other is unable to continue. It is our custom and our creed to respect life. We never use the death penalty on our own people. When one combatant cannot continue, the fight is ended.

“According to the Ancient Law of Trial by Combat, should Brendan prevail, he will have paid his dues. If Brendan fails, he will be Exiled. Either way, his friends may go, under a Compulsion of Forgetfulness.”

The Swan erupted into chatter and cries of outrage or delight. Brendan let the noise wash over him. He tried to settle his mind for the ordeal ahead.

BREAKING THE CIRCLE

“The judges have chosen their champion,” Pûkh announced. The room became hushed once more. “Lugh Silverhair of the Long Arm shall have the task.”

The tall Faerie bowed his head and stepped forward. He looked at Brendan, his grey eyes emotionless, and Brendan felt his heart flutter. He steeled himself to hide any outward sign of fear.

“I’m ready,” Brendan said. “Let’s do this.”

Merddyn had been standing back, content to watch events unfold. Now he stepped forward with a piece of ver million chalk held high. “I will draw the circle.” He looked at Brendan pointedly. “Only I can release you from it.”

As he bent to begin, Brendan was distracted by Chester’s voice. “Brendan!”

Brendan squatted beside his former enemy. “What is it, Chester? I’m a little busy.”

“Just be careful,” Chester said quietly. “This guy is big and strong with a long reach. Stay outside until you know you have a clear shot, then duck in under and hammer him in close.”

Brendan laughed. “I’ll try to remember that when he’s wiping the floor with me.”

“Seriously,” Chester insisted. “I do mixed martial arts. I know what I’m talking about. And Brendan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. I mean it. I’m glad you helped me out, even if you didn’t mean to.”

A lump formed in Brendan’s throat. He looked at Dmitri and Harold and they both smiled. They were plainly worried, but they trusted him. It meant a lot. Finally, he looked at his sister.

Delia frowned. “You are a total jerk wad, but don’t worry about that right now. Whatever you do, don’t lose. Mum and Dad won’t be happy about it.” The look in her eyes hinted that she might not be happy about losing him either. He smiled at her and bent down to kiss her forehead. “You’re gonna make me puke,” she said and smiled. Brendan laughed and stood up.

Kim was waiting to say something, but instead she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. He hugged her back. She broke her grip and said, “Do your best.” Then she stepped away.

Merddyn had drawn three-quarters of the circle on the polished floor of the pub. The crowd backed away, forming a ring outside the circle of chalk. Lugh stepped through the open section and entered the circle. Brendan took a deep breath before following. BLT distracted him by fluttering down onto his shoulder.

“I’ll come with you,” she said, her tiny mouth set grimly in a line.

“No. It isn’t allowed.”

“But I would if I could.”

“I know.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.” Brendan dug in his pocket and pulled out a caramel wrapped in cellophane. He handed the sweet to the Lesser Faerie. It was the size of a cinderblock in her tiny hands. “I was saving it for Christmas but … “

BLT’s eyes filled with tiny tears. “I’ll save it for later and celebrate your victory.”

She fluttered away, struggling with her burden. Brendan scanned the room for Greenleaf and Deirdre. They waved to him. Deirdre’s forehead was creased by a frown and her long, elegant fingers worried at the cloth of her gown. Greenleaf merely smiled and nodded.

Brendan was distracted by Charlie’s arrival. She pushed her way through to join Merddyn at the edge of the crowd. Merddyn whispered something in her ear and she shook her head. Brendan was surprised when he saw her look across to where Pûkh was standing and lock eyes with the Lord of Tír na nÓg. Pûkh’s eyes narrowed and then he smiled.

Sensing Brendan watching her, Charlie looked up. As soon as she met his gaze, she slid her eyes away, as if she were ashamed to look at him. Brendan wondered again what Charlie’s heated conversation with Lugh had been about. Nevertheless, he was glad she was here.

Finally, Brendan looked to Merddyn. The old man’s face was serene, his ancient eyes as deep as the sea. When that gaze met his, Brendan felt calmness settle over him as he stepped in to meet his fate, a confidence that he had no business feeling. He wondered if Merddyn had subtly worked some glamour on him. Then Merddyn closed the circle. A sheet of energy flared around the combatants and then died, though both of them knew the barrier was in place.

Brendan faced his opponent. Lugh was easily half a metre taller than him. His long arms hung loosely at his sides in lazy readiness. The long face held no emotion, no clue as to his intention, so when his first blow raked out, Brendan had to react quickly and duck under the massive hand that clawed at him.

The fight was on.

The high stakes and the danger to his friends and sister all helped Brendan slip naturally into a warp state, but it wasn’t easy to maintain it. He was distracted by the noise of the crowd shouting around him. He had thought he was home free after the Proving, and he’d let his guard down. Now he was fighting for his life. He had to focus.

Chester’s advice to stay outside Lugh’s reach was easier said than done. His opponent was so tall that when he swung an arm at him, Brendan had to dance dangerously close to the edge of the circle. He inadvertently bumped the barrier twice, scorching his left shoulder and his ankle. Lugh kept up a constant barrage of attacks that kept Brendan on the defensive.

Brendan’s training with Saskia had given him a basic understanding of hand-to-hand combat. But nothing could have prepared him for the ferocity of a true fight. Lugh was intent on hurting him, drawing blood. He wanted to cripple him and finish the fight. Brendan had to want to do the same. He had his hands full just keeping out of the reach of the tall Faerie’s hatchet-like hands. Lugh didn’t even break a sweat. Brendan had a vague strategy in mind: let the big guy wear himself out early and then look for an opening. Lugh didn’t seem to be tiring at all. Instead, Brendan found that he himself was breathing hard. He tried to keep his feet moving and prayed for Lugh to make some mistake he could take advantage of.

At last, he saw a chance. Lugh overbalanced after a massive swing that Brendan managed to avoid by a hair’s breadth. Brendan stepped inside the arc of the swing and cocked his fist for a blow to Lugh’s face. For a fraction of an instant, Brendan hesitated. He’d never hurt anyone on purpose in his life. After landing a blow on Saskia, which had been more accidental than premeditated, he’d been guilt-ridden, though she’d laughed it off. Now, faced with the prospect of hurting another person intentionally, he balked.

Lugh took advantage of his scruples, cracking Brendan in the cheekbone with a sharp elbow on his backswing. Brendan felt like a train had hit him. Pain exploded in his head and he staggered against the barrier of the circle. Purple lightning stung his back and flung him to his knees.

He was dimly aware of the crowd shouting, some in delight, most with dismay. He had trouble clearing his vision. He tried to stand, but his limbs seemed to be hung with lead. Something warm dripped from his chin. Raising his face, he saw something looming over him. A building? It was a tree, and the tree had a face. The tree was grinning.

“Brendan!” a voice was shouting. “Get up, Brendan!” He knew that voice. He blinked. Some of the fuzziness left his vision, but his head still buzzed. He saw the tree wasn’t a tree at all but a man. The man was rearing back with his arm raised. That didn’t seem good to Brendan. It seemed very bad. The arm, a giant fist attached, raced toward his skull like the head of a sledgehammer. Brendan frowned.

I don’t think so,
he said to himself. He saw the air in front of the fist. He saw the tiny particles of matter that formed the air he breathed and the vastly larger motes of dust that ploughed through them. He sent a thought out to the particles, suggesting they gather in the path of the fist. They did so, reluctantly at first, but then quicker and quicker until they formed a dense, gluey soup, slowing the fist in its advance. Brendan praised the tiny particles, thanking them for their help. They responded by calling more of their fellows, and soon the fist was completely arrested.

Lugh’s fist halted a centimetre from Brendan’s forehead. The silver-haired Faerie’s face was a parody of shock. He looked at his fist in disbelief. He leaned with all his weight on the invisible barrier but to no avail.

The crowd watched in awed silence. They couldn’t understand what was happening. Only Merddyn and Pûkh, standing side by side, were not shocked. There was an eager gleam in Pûkh’s eye and Merddyn smiled benignly.

“He sees,” Pûkh whispers.

“Indeed,” Merddyn agreed. “He has the gift.”

Brendan, in the meantime, was finding it difficult to keep his little army of particles motivated. This was not their normal state and they longed to be free.

Just one more thing and you are free,
Brendan assured them. He asked them for one last burst of cohesion. The particles responded. They collapsed inward around Lugh’s fist in a sudden spasm. A loud crack resounded in the hushed silence.

Lugh howled in pain. Brendan thanked the particles and allowed them to disperse. While Lugh staggered back, cradling the wrist of his now fractured hand, Brendan stood and wiped the blood from his cheek. The pain had dwindled slightly to a dull throb. He watched his opponent take deep breaths, trying to calm the agony in his broken hand.

“Do you give up?” Brendan asked. He didn’t see how Lugh could continue the fight.

Lugh raised his grey eyes in an icy glare. Those eyes were so full of hatred that Brendan almost took a step backwards. Lugh let his useless hand drop to his side. “I do not yield to you, Princeling. I will not yield while I still breathe.”

“This is a fight until someone can’t fight anymore. You’re badly hurt. Don’t you think you should give up? Save us any more pain?”

Lugh grinned, showing sharp incisors. “You believe what you will, little boy. We’re in the circle now. None may interfere.” Reaching inside his tunic, he drew out a long, glittering dagger, its blade an opaque sliver of crystal. The edge flashed in the light, hungry for blood. The crowd erupted in shouting and jeering.

Brendan looked to Merddyn, but the old Faerie didn’t move to intervene.

“You must stop them,” Deirdre begged him.

“Have a little faith in your nephew, Deirdre,” Merddyn said.

A roar washed over the crowd and the people parted to reveal a lion with gnashing golden teeth. It launched itself against the barrier. The barrier erupted in purple energy, flinging the magnificent creature back, its pelt smoking. Immediately, the beast sprung to its feet and launched itself against the circle again with the same result. Saskia was instantly at the lion’s side.

“Stop, Leonard,” she cried, burying her face in the lion’s mane. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

The creature’s fur rippled and flowed until Leonard lay there in her arms, his skin scorched and his hair smoking. His eyes were wild with fury.

“This isn’t what we agreed!” Deirdre cried. She lunged forward but Greenleaf caught her arm.

“The circle is closed. It cannot be broken,” Greenleaf said.

“This must stop,” Ariel demanded.

“There’s nothing that can be done,” Pûkh said, his face a mask of regret. “The circle is sacred.”

“Merddyn,” Deirdre begged. “You must break it.”

Merddyn shook his head. “I will not interfere. This, more than any other trial, is Brendan’s true Proving.”

In frustration, Deirdre spun away, her fists clenched.

Kim stepped up to the barrier behind Brendan and whispered urgently, “Break the circle, Brendan. You’ve done it once. You can do it again.”

Brendan shook his head, never taking his eyes from Lugh’s. “I don’t cheat.”