The Prince of Neither Here Nor There (21 page)

“What could be worse than dying?”

“Do you really want to find out?”

Brendan didn’t know what to say. He looked into her eyes and he saw that she was absolutely serious. Kim put her stick back in her knapsack. “Rest’s over. We have to go.”

“Wait.” Brendan’s voice stopped her. “How can I take you seriously? I mean, put yourself in my shoes. I’m just supposed to believe you and follow you anywhere you say? You have to give me some proof.”

Kim cocked her head and looked at him, considering. “Fine. You had a spiral mark on your chest over your heart. I’ve never seen it but I know it was there.” Brendan’s hand went to the spot of its own accord. She continued, “It’s what we call a Ward, a magical safeguard. A Ward is a kind of magic seal, in your case, a mark on your flesh. A glamour was embedded within just after you were born.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Brendan interrupted. “What’s a glamour?”

Kim crossed her arms, the very picture of exaggerated patience. “A glamour is a magical illusion, a manipulation of earth energy that warps perception. There are many kinds but basically, it makes people see things differently from the way they actually are. In your case, the glamour allowed you to live hidden among Humans without their knowing you were Faerie. It also hid you from Faerie eyes. And now that magic is gone.”

“Yeah, it’s gone,” Brendan whispered. “That woman’s little creature ate it in my dream last night.”

Kim nodded. “All the more reason to hurry. The glamour is wearing off. Look.”

She pointed to a mirror, more a slab of polished metal that leaned against the wall by the door. Brendan stepped in front of it and gasped.

He was looking at his own reflection but it was slightly altered. His skin was paler even than normal but it shone with health. The giant pimple he’d been nursing all week was completely gone. All evidence of blemishes, zits, or blackheads (the bane of every teen’s existence) was gone. His hair, normally a bland sandy brown, was shot through with streaks of amber and gold. He held up his hands before his face. The fingers seemed longer, more perfectly formed. He sighed in wonder. He grinned and was shocked to see that his teeth, crooked the day before, were now straight and even, white as snow.

“You’re taking on Faerie form. Soon the glamour will dissipate completely. Humans will see you for what you really are. That would be bad for us all.”

“Why bad?”

“Because we have a touchy relationship with Humans. They like to think we magical races, like Faeries, Trolls, and Dwarfs, don’t exist, and as long as we don’t do anything too outrageous or flamboyant, the Truce is maintained.”

That was a little disturbing so he focused on Kim. He looked Kim up and down. She was still wearing her school uniform: green kilt, green blazer, and white shirt. She looked like a normal schoolgirl. “And you’re like me?”

She gave a nod, smirked, and flicked her wrist. Kim shimmered as though she were going out of focus, then her image sharpened again. Her clothes had not changed but her face was different. Not that it had been altered in any major way. Her features were somehow more defined, more elegant.

Her hair, normally a dull brown, was a lustrous and shining chestnut shot through with strands of silver. She held out her hands and from her palms sprouted tattoos in the shape of vines. As he watched, dumbstruck, the vines, glittering and golden, twined up her forearms and out of sight under her shirt sleeves. She smiled, revealing teeth that shimmered with a tinge of gold as well.

The corner of her mouth quirked up and the smirk widened. “So? Believe me now?”

Brendan gulped. “I don’t know what I believe any more.” He suddenly looked at Borje. “Is that what you really look like?”

Borje rumbled with laughter and pulled at his cheek with his fingers, making his grotesque face slightly more ugly. “Yo! This is all Borje. Good and ugly.”

“Okay,” Kim snapped. “Show and tell is over. We have to get going.”

“Hold it!” Brendan said. “One more question.”

Kim sighed. “Make it quick.”

“You said the Ward was placed on me at birth, right?”

“Yeah,” she said impatiently.

“By who? Who wanted me hidden?”

Kim frowned. “I should let Ariel tell you. He’s the Eldest among us.”

“Come on,” Brendan pleaded. “I really want to know.”

Kim sighed again. “It was your father. Your true father.”

Brendan was silent then, trying to absorb this bit of news. Then he said, “Where is he? Will I meet him?”

“That’s a bit complicated,” Kim said. “I’ll have to let Ariel explain.” She tapped the door with her stick. “Right now, we have to get to the Swan. Okay?”

Brendan shrugged. “What choice do I have?”

“Now that’s the first smart thing you’ve said today.” Kim grinned. Turning to the Troll, she said, “Borje? The door!”

Borje raised his hands in protest. “Nay! Not the front door. They whill be expecting that.” He raised the tapestry that led to the kitchen and gestured one giant hand for them to enter.

They followed Borje across the kitchen. He seemed to love shiny things. The stone coun- tertop was crammed full of the latest appliances: a blender, a shining toaster, a microwave, a food processor, and many other chrome-encrusted gadgets. Borje stopped in front of the fridge, a monolithic slab of stainless steel glimmering in the overhead light.

Borje patted the polished metal surface lovingly, caressing its smooth surface as if the appliance were a favourite pet. “Amana has a secret, don’t you, girl?” The huge Troll chuckled to himself. He bent over and lifted the entire fridge in his massive hands. Grunting with the effort, he turned and put the fridge on the floor.

Where the fridge had been was a gaping rectangular hole in the natural rock of the wall. A cool breeze drifted up from the hole. Brendan stepped closer and peered down. Steps, roughly carved from the stone, led down into darkness. The walls ran with water. Brendan felt his stomach sink.

“This is handy, Borje,” Kim commented, inspecting the entrance.

“Ya! When I moved down from the old hockey arena Maple Leaf Gardens a few years ago, I had to use subway tunnels. Risky! But when I got here, there whas so much construction, nobody noticed when I borrow few tools and do a little digging of my own.” The vast bulk of his chest jiggled with childish laughter. “I dig right under their noses. Now, I can go and whatch the baseball game if I whant or go to the train station or even down to the Harbourfront whithout going upside. Very convenient!”

“It’ll do,” Kim decided, all business now. “C’mon, Brendan. Let’s move.”

“No way,” Brendan said firmly. “I’m not going down there.”

Kim glared at him. “There’s no other way.”

“I’ve had enough of tunnels. It’s dark and I can’t go down there. And another thing …”

“You’re scared?” Kim offered, eyebrow cocked in derision.

Brendan flushed angrily. “Shouldn’t I be? You’ve said yourself that people want to kill me or capture me. Why, I have no idea! And now we’re going to blunder around in the dark? That’s your plan?”

Their argument was interrupted by a bloodcurdling, shrieking howl. The cry echoed through the stone and into Brendan’s head like the scratch of fingernails on a chalkboard. His skin crawled as the wailing howl sounded again, closer this time. He felt panic climbing up his throat.

“Kobolds!”
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Kim’s head whipped around and her pale skin became paler still. “They’ve got the scent,” she cried. “They’re coming fast. We have to go.”

“They whon’t dare come through here,” Borje growled. “They can’t break my Whards.”

“Given time, Orcadia could do anything,” Kim said. She turned and glared at Brendan. “She’ll risk anything to get hold of Brendan. We have to go now.”

Brendan decided he’d rather brave the tunnels than face whatever was making that howling. He looked up into Borje’s yellow eyes and tried to smile. The Troll smiled back, a slightly terrifying proposition, considering the state of his teeth. Brendan reached up and grasped one giant finger and shook it. “Thanks, Borje. I don’t really understand everything yet, but I think you’re a friend.”

“That’s enough for me,” Borje rumbled. “It’s a pleasure and an honour to have helped, Your Highness.” The Troll dipped his head in an awkward bow.

Kim glared at Borje, who snapped his mouth shut.

“Highness? You called me prince back at the school. What is that all about?” Brendan demanded. A gut-wrenching howl cut off any reply. Kim grabbed Brendan by the arm and hauled him down the steps.

“Go, Leafs, go!” Borje cried as they plunged into darkness, and with that incongruous exhortation ringing in his ears, Brendan entered Toronto’s Undertown.

⁶²
 In the Faerie culture, one’s secret name is very important. Those who know it have power over an individual.

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Kobolds
are another magical race of Germanic origin. They are shape-shifters and expert trackers. Kobolds are akin to Dwarfs but smaller in stature, preferring dark subterranean tunnels to the open air. They are incredibly mischievous and devious, with a loathing for most Humans.

THE TUNNELS

The steps were uneven. More than once Brendan had to thrust out a hand to brace himself against the stone wall. His hands were soon frigid and slimy with whatever microbes clustered in such miserable underground places.

Brendan had lost count after sixty-seven steps. He was becoming disoriented as he stumbled after taking another step downward where there was no step to be had. He almost turned his ankle when his questing foot encountered the floor.

“Which way?” Kim said in the darkness. Her voice was surprisingly loud, echoing off the stone walls.

“I have no idea,” Brendan said. “I can’t see a thing.”

“It’s funny,” Kim said, her voice now closer. “You are able to do some things naturally but others, like your Faerie Sight, they haven’t kicked in yet.”

“Faerie Sight?” Brendan asked.

“It’s impossible to describe. Let’s just say, to keep it simple, Faeries can see really well in the dark. Obviously, you haven’t got the knack yet, so …”

A soft yellow glow flared to life in the darkness. Kim held her field hockey stick aloft. The curved head of the stick was wreathed in a golden nimbus of flame. When his eyes finished smarting at the sudden glare, Brendan marvelled to see that the wood of the stick was not burning. “How are you doing that?”

Kim snorted with laughter. “You’re so new, it’s hilarious.” Looking at Brendan’s face, she sensed he didn’t see the humour. “Seriously, you’ve got a lot to learn. But we’ve got to get moving. We’ll talk as we go. First, we have to decide which way.”

She raised the club and their surroundings came into focus.

Brendan saw they were in a rough-hewn, circular chamber where three passages joined. Scrawled on the walls was the ubiquitous graffiti. “Dwarfs!” Kim shook her head in disgust. “There are three possible routes and they aren’t marked in any way. Ridiculous Troll! I’ll have to go back up and ask him.” Kim started back toward the stairs.

A howl from above and an angry Troll shout dissuaded her against that course of action. “They’ve arrived at Borje’s. We’ll just have to pick one and go.”

At the sound of the piercing howling, Brendan’s heart raced anew. He looked around at their options. Three darker patches of blackness stood in front of them, three different possible directions.

“Go left,” Brendan said.

“Why?”

“In a labyrinth, always choose the left passage and you’ll come out eventually.”

“Did you read that in a kid’s book?” Kim snorted. “This ain’t no labyrinth. I’ve been in the real deal. Kitsune Kai in Kyoto tried to trap me in one a while back.
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That
was a labyrinth. This is just a few tunnels.” She thought for a moment and shrugged. “But I suppose left is as good as any other choice. They all smell rank. Mould and Dwarf farts, a pungent combo. All right. Let’s go.”

She started forward with Brendan close on her heels. He didn’t want to lose her down here.

At first, their choice seemed a good one. The passage headed straight on with a gentle downward tendency. Brendan could actually see quite far ahead down the tunnel. On the walls, here and there, were spray-painted inscriptions in angular letters in a language he couldn’t read.

“What do they say?” he asked Kim.

“You don’t want to know,” Kim said, shaking her head. “Dwarfs love graffiti. And they love swearing. They’re not so keen on spelling.”

As they made progress, Brendan started to relax a bit. They were moving at a steady clip, and he had to concentrate on breathing regularly to keep up the pace. Kim didn’t seem to tire at all.

The terrifying cries of their pursuers became less frequent and more distant. Brendan began to feel that the danger was less immediate. Kim slowed their pace slightly, allowing Brendan to better study the tunnels.

He could see details in the rock walls, striations, and cut marks. Borje had employed the tools only when necessary to widen the path or connect existing caverns and natural tunnels. Brendan had never even imagined that such places existed. The oppressive weight of the city poised above him made him feel as though he was going to suffocate. To take his mind off his fear, he decided to talk.

“This is amazing,” Brendan marvelled. “How could this exist below the city without anyone knowing?”

“Humans see what they want to see. They don’t venture down here much,” Kim said. “They don’t need to. We’re way farther down than the deepest subway tunnel or basement. But this is nothing compared to, say, New York, Tokyo, Cairo, or London. They are so honeycombed with catacombs it’s ridiculous. Toronto is a young city. Give it a few hundred years and it will be Swiss cheese down here.”

“There are people … Faeries like you in other cities?” Brendan asked, incredulous.

“Like you, too,” Kim said pointedly. “Oh, yeah. Everywhere in the world. We live right under the noses of the People of Metal, in their cities, sometimes right in the open and the Humans don’t even know it.”

“People of Metal?”

“That’s what we call the Humans.”