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  The Prince of Two Tribes

  ( Misplaced Prince - 2 )

  Sean Cullen

  The Prince of Two Tribes

  Sean Cullen

  .

  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 synopsis^ 5 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 through 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 casua
l 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 brothers 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 Metal^ 11 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.

  Marching together, the warriors of the two races prodded their shackled prisoners up the path until they arrived before the Human King and Merddyn.

  The prisoners were weighed down by iron collars that hung from their necks, bound by lengths of chain to fetters on their hands and feet. As they came to a halt, they fell to their knees under the weight of the iron that was already burning painful welts on their skin. All save one.

  The leader of the vanquished Faeries strained to remain upright despite his pain. He clenched his teeth as he raised his face to look at his captors. The Humans, including their battle-hardened King, took an involuntary step backwards as they saw the naked rage and hatred that twisted the otherwise handsome face. Merddyn didn’t flinch. He met the fierce gaze with a stony glare of his own.

  “Tain Mab Dubh.” Merddyn’s voice cut easily through the howl of the cold wind. “Tain, Son of Darkness: this is the name you chose for yourself. You defied the will of our rightful Council and took up arms against family and friends. You declared yourself above and outside our Law.” Merddyn’s voice commanded the attention of all. “You are finished. You and your followers have lost the battle and the war.”

  Tain laughed. “Wise Old Merddyn. Selfless Merddyn.” The Dark Faerie Lord sneered and spat at Merddyn’s feet. “Merddyn the Fool. With you by my side we could have crushed the People of Metal. Now you would have us living as outcasts on the edges of the world, left to haunt the dark and lonely places. Ghosts! Worse than ghosts, for are we not flesh and blood?”

  “Tain, you are wrong.” Merddyn shook his head sadly. “To fight the Humans is futile. One might as well take up arms against the tides of the seas or the winds or the air. They will outnumber us ere long. An honourable pea
ce is what we must have to ensure that we survive.”

  “Pah! Peace? Slavery! The People of the Moon were born to rule. You have doomed them with your cowardice. You are all cowards!”

  Ariel lunged forward, too quick to be restrained, and struck the prisoner across the face with the back of his mailed hand. The crack of the contact echoed on the hillside. Tain staggered and fell onto his face.

  “Keep your idle taunts to yourself, dog! Merddyn fears no one, least of all you!”

  Tain forced himself up onto his knees. He grinned, bright blood drooling from his split lip. “All slights will be remembered, Brother Ariel! Lapdog Ariel! Your treachery will be remembered and avenged,” the Dark Faerie hissed. He lunged against his chains but succeeded only in pitching himself forward onto his knees.

  A Faerie in exquisite armour inlaid with pearls reached out and restrained Ariel. “We all have reason to be bitter,” the Faerie said, his grey eyes full of pain. “We must learn to forgive.”

  “Never.” Ariel’s voice broke. “He killed my sister. Let me go, Greenleaf.” Ariel was weeping now. “Let me go.”

  “Enough!” cried Merddyn. “The time has come for judgment.” Merddyn raised his hands above his head. Silence reigned on the hilltop. Even the wind seemed to pause. “Tain Mab Dubh, you have broken our Law. Now that Law will judge you. You shall be bound and imprisoned by our strongest Ward. The term of your confinement shall be the term of this world’s existence. Your prison shall be within the Bone of the Earth itself.” Merddyn drew back his arm to indicate the standing stone that occupied the centre of the circle. A ring of Faeries stood around the stone. As Merddyn nodded, they began to chant an eerie melody that made the hackles on the necks of the Humans rise.

  Slowly more Faeries joined in. The chant grew stronger, filling the very air with a shiver of power like the resounding of an invisible bell. The stones in the outer circle shimmered, steaming gently as the water on their surfaces evaporated, boiled off by a mystical inner heat.