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! 83 I 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 Wild 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.
“Hello, Breandan,” Briach Morn said. “I am your father.”
Brendan didn’t know what to say. He stared at the tall stranger with wonder in his eyes. “You… you’re supposed to be…”
“In the Other Lands? I was, and I will be again soon.” Briach Morn smiled gently.
“They told me no one could ever come back from there.”
“So I believed as well.” Morn nodded. “But, like all Faerie power, will plays an important part. I willed myself here because I wanted to see you. My wish was sincere enough to grant me a short reprieve. I doubt that I will be able to do it again.”
“Brother”-Orcadia struggled to her feet- “stay! I need you! Together we can take this world back.”
Morn’s face hardened. “You are wrong, Orcadia. I have had many years to contemplate what I’ve done. We will never rule here again. We have had our time. We must accept that.”
Orcadia’s face turned into a snarling mask of fury. “Weakling! You may have lost your nerve but I haven’t. I will do it without you. There are others who will rally to my flag…”
“Oh, dear sister, do shut up, will you,” Briach Morn said wearily. He flicked his wrist and Orcadia was jerked from her feet. She sailed across the cellar toward the shadow in the heart of the raging flames.
“Noooooooooooo!” she cried as she fell into the heart of the fire and disappeared.
“That’s better,” Briach said, smiling. “Sisters, eh? No end of trouble.”
Brendan laughed in spite of himself. “I know.” He looked at the fire. “What will happen to her? Is she…?”
Morn shook his head. “Not dead. She’ll be waiting for me in the Other Lands. There’ll be hell to pay but no matter. I have an eternity to smooth things over with her.”
