Pukh.
“What is the harm?” Pukh smiled. “If he is truly the son of Briach and Bir-Gidha, he should be none the worse. But if he isn’t… ” Pukh’s smile darkened. “Well, then, I’ve done my job.” Pukh held the sword out to Brendan in both hands, being careful to handle only the black silken cloth.
Brendan hesitated. The hum emanating from the sword was a siren song to him. His hands itched to grasp the weapon so that he could hear its voice more clearly. He forced himself to pause and consider the consequences. Touching the sword might end this ordeal once and for all, but it might also be the last thing he ever did.
He looked up into Pukh’s face. The handsome features were fixed in a state of friendly detachment, giving nothing away. Brendan had a flash of insight then. He suddenly realized who had protested Ariel’s acceptance of his initiation. Pukh had forced this Proving, made him jump through hoops and live through this terrifying ordeal. He looked into that blandly smiling face and felt a rush of anger. Brendan understood that he’d been manoeuvred into a corner for some purpose that only the Lord of the Everlasting Lands knew. He had a sudden desire to show the smirking Faerie that he wasn’t afraid of him. Without another thought, he reached out and grasped the sword.
The hum sang bright and clear, filling his head as soon as his hands touched the smooth, cool surface of the blade. Brendan closed his eyes and listened to the sweet tone. Is this all? he thought. He’d never heard such a beautiful sound. The note was pure and clear, resonating in every fibre of his body, every bone and blood vessel, every hair on his head. Ecstasy! He had heard the word before and thought he understood it, but this was ecstasy distilled into sound and poured into his soul through his palms.
Suddenly, his entire body ignited in agony. Lightning jagged along his nerves, and the hum escalated into a shriek that threatened to tear his head apart. Together, the pain and the sound grew to fill Brendan’s entire universe. Blinding white light flared, though he couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or shut. For that matter, he couldn’t tell if he was up or down, in or out. Brendan didn’t care. He just wanted it to stop.
He realized then that the shriek was coming from the blade itself. The sword wasn’t dead like some Human creation. No, it was a living thing with a mind and a soul of its own. The sword felt Brendan’s foreign touch and was attacking him. The sword wanted to destroy him.
“Stop!” he shouted, not knowing whether he screamed aloud or only in his head. The tiny part of him that could still think reasonably wondered how much time had passed and whether he was dead or not. That’s when he heard the voice.
“Breandan. Can you hear me?”
He recognized the voice, though he’d heard it only once before.
“Father?”
“Yes, son.”
“What’s happening?”
“You hold Dawn Cleaver. It is tuning itself to you. The sword served me and will serve you now. We are connected for a very short time.”
“Where are you? How can I hear you?”
“We may speak now, if only for a moment.”
“Pukh brought the sword for my Proving.”
“I am aware. Dawn Cleaver told me what is happening.”
“It speaks to you?”
“Yes, as it will to you. Listen to me. We haven’t long.”
“But I have questions.” Brendan couldn’t believe he was talking to his father. He had so many things he wanted to ask him about, things that he’d thought of since the last time they’d met in the basement of the orphanage.
“I know you have, my son, but I need to speak to you now. I cannot maintain the link between us for long. Listen to me. Do not trust Pukh. He has plans that serve only himself. No matter what he says, he does not have your welfare in mind.”
“I figured that out for myself.”
“Clever boy. Do you remember the name I gave you?”
Brendan remembered the afternoon in the basement, when Orcadia fell and Briach breached the veil between this world and the Other Side to initiate him. He remembered the secret name his father had whispered in his ear. He’d never told a soul, just as his father instructed.
“I’ll never forget it.”
“Share it only with the one you trust most.”
“How will I know who the right one is? And why is my secret name so important?”
“It is the key to controlling your heart and soul. Those who know it can make you do what they wish, even bring about your death.”
“Seems like a dumb thing to have then. Why did you even tell me?”
Brendan sensed Briach laughing. “Breandan, you are a delightful boy. I wish we had more time. Just keep the name safe.”
“How will I know when it’s time to share it?” “You’ll know. Finally, do not tell anyone about the rock.”
“The Snoring Rock.”
“Exactly. Tell no one. Especially Pukh. Now I must go. I haven’t the strength to hold on.”
“Father!”
“Yes?”
“I… I wish you were here.”
“I wish I were there, too. Take care, my son. Farewell.”
“No! Wait! Don’t… ”
The next Brendan knew, he was on his knees on the platform, the sword held in both hands in front of him. His cheeks were wet with tears. He blinked his eyes clear and looked up into the face of his aunt Deirdre.
“Are you all right, Brendan?” Her grey eyes were full of concern. She helped him to stand.
“I’m fine, I think,” Brendan croaked. He looked at the sword. The blade glowed with a soft green fire. The humming had faded to a faint echo, a ghost of itself, still present but muted. Brendan lowered the blade and saw that Pukh was looking at him, the deep brown eyes blazing with a disturbing light. It was the hungry gaze of an animal that promised to devour Brendan if he wasn’t cautious. When Pukh saw that Brendan was returning his stare, his face resumed its mask of amusement.
“You passed my test, Brendan,” Pukh said with a mocking bow. “I am satisfied.” He turned to step down from the rock but stopped and shot a smile over his shoulder. “I believe the sword is yours now. I look forward to the day when you come to Tir na nOg to claim the rest of your father’s possessions.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Brendan muttered. Deirdre crushed him in her arms, planting a wet kiss on his cheek.
“Gross, Aunt Deirdre,” he groaned, but secretly he didn’t mind at all.
“If the judges are all satisfied…?” Ariel broke in. He looked first to Kitsune Kai, flanked by her Kappa guards. She nodded. He looked to Deirdre, who merely smiled. Pukh assented with a wave of his hand. “Then we have heard from all concerned, and-”
“Not all!” a voice called from the crowd.
“Who speaks?” Ariel said sternly. “Show yourself!”
“Gladly!” There was a murmur from the Faerie throng that swelled as a path cleared to allow a single person through. “Give me a moment. I’m not as young as I once was.”
The crowd buzzed with excitement as Merddyn clambered up onto the stone. He was dressed in the same tweed suit he’d worn in the doughnut shop. He looked every inch a doddering, elderly man afraid of a fall that might break his hip.
Brendan sprang forward to offer his hand to the Ancient Faerie.
“Thank you, dear boy.” Merddyn gratefully took the proffered hand. His knotty hand was surprisingly strong. Brendan realized that any show of frailty was just that: a show.
“You were never young, Merddyn,” Pukh quipped. “But you were always a little feeble.”
“I enjoyed your test, Pukh.” Merddyn smiled back. “Test the boy and do some spring cleaning at the same time.”
“Well, Merddyn,” Ariel said, recovering from his shock at Merddyn’s surprise appearance. “I wish you’d told us
