Dmitri, Harold, Chester, and Delia huddled together and tried to watch the contest. It was impossible to follow. The movements of the combatants were blindingly fast, blurs of speed punctuated by moments of relative stillness as Brendan and Lugh sized each other up between attacks.
“I had no idea Brendan could do this stuff,” Dmitri said in awe.
“I wish I had my sketchbook,” Harold said wistfully.
“You guys!” Delia sneered. “This isn’t some school field trip. This creep is trying to kill Brendan!”
“What do you care?” Dmitri said quietly. “He isn’t really your brother.”
Delia glared at Dmitri. “That’s not fair.”
Chester shrugged. “Don’t worry. He’ll beat this dude.”
“How can you be sure?” Delia asked.
“He’s made the guy mad and anger makes you sloppy,” Chester explained. “Wait and see.”
Inside the circle, Brendan and Lugh were partners in an intricate dance. They improvised the steps as they went along. It was a strange sort of dance with the partners never touching, avoiding each other by the narrowest of margins. Lugh’s face was a mask of anger and frustration while Brendan’s held a blank calm, though the sweat was streaming down his face. The battle went on and on with neither gaining the upper hand. Both were suffering from their injuries but they didn’t let up. Brendan had lost his aversion to harming Lugh after the knife became part of the equation. Now it was a matter of survival.
In the end, Brendan’s injuries caught up with him. Blood from the wound on his ribs dripped down his side and onto the floor, making the footing slippery. The floor was one massive sheet of polished oak, nurtured and crafted by generations of Masters of the Green Arts. The surface was slick at the best of times, but with his smooth-soled running shoes and the blood on the floor, Brendan lost his balance and fell with a crash onto his back. In an instant, Lugh was on him, slamming a massive foot onto his chest and pinning him to the floor. Brendan strained against the weight, but the tall Faerie held him fast. Brendan ceased struggling and looked up into the face of his assailant.
“Well fought,” Lugh said with a leer. “Few could press me the way you have. You should be proud of yourself in the moment before I send you to the Far Lands.”
“Stop this!” Deirdre begged from outside the circle. “This is pointless.”
Pukh shook his head in a show of great sorrow. “Alas, what can we do? The circle cannot be broken.”
BLT raced around and around the circle. “Do it, Brendan! Break the circle!”
Kim shrieked at Brendan. “Break it! Break it, Brendan! Show him!”
Brendan turned his head to Kim. “Don’t be afraid. It’s all right!” He turned back and smiled up at Lugh. “Do your worst.”
Lugh grinned savagely and raised the dagger above his head.
Brendan didn’t move. The fear he had felt when he’d stepped into the circle with Lugh was gone. He felt only calm. During the frenzy of the fight, he had found a quiet place in the centre of his heart. He recalled the song that his aunt had drawn from him during the Proving and let it fill his being, guide his movements. He recalled the conversation with Merddyn in the doughnut shop and had a moment of wonderful clarity. He saw the blade glinting in the light and the strings of tiny crystals that made up its structure. The words he had heard while trapped inside the stone came to him with sudden urgency. All things are one. As the deadly point of the dagger quivered, ready to seek his heart, Brendan saw what he had to do. The thought of it made him laugh.
Lugh paused, a puzzled expression on his dour face. “Why do you laugh?”
“All things are one!” Brendan said. He grinned like a fool and focused his mind, seeing the change he wished to make and willing it to occur.
Lugh’s weapon shimmered, quivered. Then the solid substance of the dagger began to flow into a new form.
The blade shortened and melted into an altogether new shape. Where there had once been a deadly blade in Lugh’s hand, there was now a ring of pastry with multicoloured sprinkles on top. Lugh stared in utter disbelief.
“What is this?” he roared.
“A doughnut,” Brendan replied placidly. “A Hawaiian doughnut, to be precise.” Brendan shot a glance at Merddyn, who was grinning with delight.
Lugh, infuriated, crushed the doughnut and flung it away. He bunched his good fist and prepared to drive it into Brendan’s skull. Suddenly, the wood beneath his feet changed state and became a sticky brown liquid. Lugh sank into the floor up to his ankles, and the wood became solid again. His eyes went wide with surprise. Brendan smiled grimly and swung his arm with all his strength, striking Lugh’s shin just above the floor. There was a loud crack. Lugh howled in agony and fell backwards. The floor flowed open beneath him as he landed and then washed back over him, hardening so that his entire torso was trapped in the wood. Of his head, only his face was exposed. Terror filled his eyes.
Brendan, exhausted from the effort, pushed himself to his feet. He stood over Lugh, who strained futilely to free himself from his woody prison.
“This fight is over,” Brendan said.
Lugh ceased to struggle. He glared up at his vanquisher, cold grey eyes filled with hatred. “It has only begun, Brendan Morn.”
Brendan turned to the circle and looked for a weakness in the chalk line. Seeing a slightly narrow section, he reached out with his toe and wiped away the chalk. The circle flared and died.
Instantly, a streak of light shot into the circle, driving into Lugh’s face. BLT kicked and punched his vulnerable, prominent nose with wild abandon. “That’s fer cheatin’, ya big wally!” she cried.
“Get off me, tiny demon!” Lugh protested.
Brendan laughed. She had obviously been unable to resist eating her caramel. For once, he didn’t mind.
RULES
Now that the danger had passed, Brendan was overwhelmed by a wave of exhaustion. He tried to walk to the judges but staggered. Kim was instantly at his side to catch him. He leaned on her as he made his way to where the judges awaited him. The crowd parted, oddly hushed and watchful. He had done things that were thought to be impossible, and now they felt trepidation at being too close to this young boy.
He squeezed Kim’s hand gratefully and nodded. She stepped back, within easy reach if he needed her support.
Pukh rose to his feet and addressed Brendan with a warm smile. “Well done, Brendan. You have certainly Proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are your father’s son and a Prince of Ancient Lineage. Congratulations. You may now be accepted into a Clan as a fully fledged Faerie. I extend my invitation to join the Clan of Tir na nOg! We can use someone with your gifts.
“There is no Clan with more power and influence than mine,” Pukh continued. “You can be at my right hand. You have proven that you deserve the rank.” He cast a scathing glare at the helpless Lugh.
Brendan couldn’t tell if Pukh’s sincerity was just a show or he really meant what he said. Lugh was Pukh’s minion, and he’d tried to kill Brendan. The Lord of Tir na nOg could not be trusted.
“I don’t care about your Clans. I won,” Brendan said brusquely. “Now let me and my friends and sister go.”
“Of course,” Ariel agreed. “They will be Compelled to silence and freed.”
“No,” Brendan said. “That isn’t going to happen.”
Ariel’s pale face went even paler. “Those were the conditions of the bargain. They will be upheld.”
“That bargain was finished when Lugh pulled the knife,” Brendan said coldly. “The rules have changed. It’s time for things to be different.” Brendan looked at the faces of Og, Deirdre, and Greenleaf, full of pride and relief at his survival. Merddyn winked, and Kitsune Kai’s dark eyes were watchful, expectant.