“Believe me,” Brendan said, “I’ll keep a healthy distance from that guy. I just don’t like the way he was bugging you.”
“I can take care of myself,” Charlie said. “Lugh and Pukh do not have your best interests at heart, Brendan. Believe me.”
“How do you know?”
Charlie looked down, boring a hole in the sandy ground with her foot. She seemed about to say something, but Kim’s arrival interrupted her.
“Hey, everybody,” Kim said with a wave.
Kim was decked out in clothes that Brendan had never seen her wear before. She was usually a T-shirt and jeans type, but today she was total Faerie. She wore skin-tight green leather trousers and a tight embroidered silk tank top that showed off her elaborate vine tattoos. Her hair was dusted with gold and her feet were bare. Her field hockey stick was slung over her shoulder with a green leather strap.
Brendan found he could only stare, speechless, his mouth hanging open. Kim smirked.
“And hello to you, Brendan.” Kim was obviously delighted at Brendan’s reaction. She smiled in turn at Charlie. “Hello, Charles.”
Charlie merely smiled, a little insincerely.
“Come on, everybody,” Kim said, clapping her hands. “It’s time!”
“For what?” Brendan asked.
“The Solstice is minutes away,” Kim explained. “Deirdre is the Greeter. And after that, the Proving.”
Brendan’s stomach fell away. At that moment, a bell began to toll.
^ 58 I’m sure there are some clever clogs out there wondering why this boat is different from the barge that took Brendan and Charlie across to the island. It is a peculiarity of the Ferryman’s guild, “The Brotherhood of the Ways.” Their vessels are changeable, growing bigger or smaller as needed to convey people across boundaries. As an aside, Ferrymen aren’t the only members of the Brotherhood of the Ways, or at least the Brothers don’t all appear as Ferrymen. They are elevator operators, train engineers, balloon pilots, taxi drivers, tollbooth operators, wagon drovers, or any other person who drives some kind of vehicle. Just so you know. An entire book could be written about the Brotherhood, and maybe it will be someday if any Brother ever consents to an interview.
^ 59 Saint Christopher is a Catholic saint who is the patron of travellers. Medals are worn by those who hope that he’ll look out for them on long journeys.
SOLSTICE
“What’s going on here?” Delia asked. “Some kind of hippie festival, or what?”
“Keep your voice down,” Harold begged. “We’re trying not to attract attention.”
Though they didn’t know it, they were following in Brendan’s footsteps along the path. Since Chester had managed to open their eyes back on the wharf, they could now see the Beautiful People, as he called them.^ 60 The people had a vibrancy and a glow that normal Humans didn’t, and their clothing was more outlandish and exuberant. The little troop waited until the last of the strange people had made their way along the path and then dashed in, darting from tent to tent for cover.
“Do you hear that?” Chester said suddenly. They all listened as a clear, high tone rang out across the island. As soon as the sound began, the Beautiful Ones hurried up the path.
“Let’s go!” Delia cried, heading off in pursuit. The boys hesitated a moment before setting off after her.
They followed the crowd and soon found themselves in the clearing where the Community Centre was. They stopped short in astonishment at the impossible village of tents.
“Holy crap!” Harold breathed.
The bell changed in tone, rising slightly.
“Come on,” Delia said. “We’ll be late.”
“For what?” Dmitri asked.
“I intend to find out.” Delia smiled fiercely and moved forward. The three boys shared a look and then started after her.
Brendan stood in the midst of the hushed, breathless throng. The reverberation of the bell overwhelmed all other sounds, cutting through the din of voices and instruments with insistent clarity. All who heard the bell turned their heads toward the source of the chime. A hush fell over the Gathering. Even the Lesser Faeries, normally prone to constant nattering, had fallen into a respectful silence. All stood (or fluttered, in the case of the Lesser Faeries) facing west toward the red wash of the sunset sky and the fiery orb of the sun hanging just above the frozen lake. Brendan held his breath. The bell continued to chime, and presently a procession approached.
They seemed to emerge out of the dying sun. Brendan was relieved to see a familiar face in front. His aunt Deirdre led the way, dressed in a shimmering silken gown of the purest white. In her hand she held a long pole. From the top of the pole dangled a bell that reflected the torchlight in its polished golden surface. As Deirdre walked into the Gathering place among the silent Faeries, she gently swung the pole so that the bell tolled with each step.
Ariel followed her. He was dressed in an exquisitely tailored suit sewn from golden cloth. His pale face and hair glowed softly, whether from the sun, the torchlight, or some inner illumination, Brendan couldn’t tell. He was the most senior of the Faeries in this part of the world, and so he was the host of the Gathering. The entire crowd ducked their heads in respectful greeting. Ariel raised a hand in response.
Behind Ariel, Pukh smirked at the crowd as if he were a king among peasants, mildly amused by their quaint behaviour and customs. Pukh had discarded the Armani suit in favour of a more traditional costume: a cloak encrusted with minute pearls and a plain white tunic with hose.
Walking behind him was a creature that made Brendan want to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. She looked as if she’d just stepped out of a Japanese anime cartoon. She wore what looked like a white sailor suit that had been splattered with green paint applied via shotgun blast. Her makeup was stark white with one black tear drawn at the corner of her right eye. Her hair was dyed a vibrant red and stood up like a cock’s comb. She was tiny in stature, almost childlike, and yet the look in her eyes was anything but innocent. The eyes in question were shaded by pink sunglasses. She was chewing a pink wad of bubble gum. The most bizarre aspect of her appearance had nothing to do with what she wore. A rich and glossy foxtail swished behind her as she walked.
“Kitsune Kai and her bodyguards,” Charlie whispered in his ear. He started. He’d forgotten she was there at his side.
Walking in attendance close behind Kitsune Kai was a pair of stout, dark-haired Japanese men. Their heads were oddly flat and the tops of their scalps glittered in the torchlight.
“What’s on their heads?” Brendan asked.
“They’re Kappa. They are tremendously strong. They wrestle their opponents to the ground and snap their limbs with powerful arms. However, they are vulnerable. They have to carry water from their home lake in a hollow at the top of their heads. If the water spills, they lose their strength and may even die.”
Brendan watched in silence as Kitsune Kai and her odd bodyguards came to a halt in the centre of the Faerground with Pukh and Deirdre.
The bell tolled one last time and fell silent. The crowd held its collective breath. Ariel stepped forward and raised his hands, the dying sun tinting his pale skin crimson.
The four Faeries formed a circle and raised their hands so that their palms faced downwards. They opened their mouths and sang out a single, achingly beautiful note. They sustained the chord and it grew in depth and power. Harmonics quivered in the air, making the sound more elaborate and complex. The air in the centre of their circle thickened and curdled into a glowing fog that seeped into the ground. The sound of their voices was joined by a deep rumbling.
The ground heaved and crumbled as a massive stone, a chunk of the island’s bedrock, emerged like the back of some long-buried, petrified beast. The stone rose, shedding crumbling earth, until it stood two metres high, a flat slab that could serve as a platform or stage.