by Robin Trent
Out of the darkness came what looked like an army; warriors dressed in all kinds of battle gear and in their midst, a woman dressed in a long flowing black gown shot through with the colors of fall. Her hair was russet fire, and her skin was pale moonlight. They approached her quickly, faster than was humanly possible. All Elizabeth could do was stare, and she began to fill with hope. Maybe they had come to return her baby to her.
A tall guard reached her first. He had long flowing blond hair and hazel green eyes that were filled with malice. He grabbed Elizabeth by the arm, pulling her away from the tree and forced her down on her knees. "You will kneel before the queen," he spat.
Emerging from the center of the warriors, the woman sauntered over to Elizabeth and stood before her. "Well, well, well. What have we here?" Maeve bent over at the waist and placed a single finger under Elizabeth's chin, raising her head till she was staring her right in the eye. Maeve scanned Elizabeth's face for some clue. Satisfied, she stood back up and walked several paces away and then turned to face Elizabeth once again. "What is a human doing in Elphame, and how in the bloody hell did you cross over the barrier?"
Elizabeth was confused. "What barrier?"
The queen laughed, and her lieutenant took a swipe at Elizabeth, knocking her over. "That's enough, Raelgar." The queen was not pleased. This human did not have a clue as to where she was. But it was the queen's duty to secure the borders and prevent trespassers.
"Let me put this another way. Why are you out here in the middle of the night in the forest?” The queen crossed her arms as she waited for a reply.
Elizabeth glared at the queen as she remembered why she was out here. "I want my baby back. I brought your changeling out here to exchange it for my child. My child that you stole."
"I stole? My dear, I do not have your child." Elizabeth's face fell, and the queen realized that the human was telling the truth. Maeve scanned the area. No changeling to be seen. "I do not see a changeling."
Elizabeth let an exasperated breath. "I had the changeling in my arms. The wolf scared me, and I dropped it. I was leaning up against the tree when the changeling touched it, and all of a sudden, everything warped and spun. The changeling ran off that way." Elizabeth pointed her fingers in the direction the changeling went.
Maeve's eyes lit up with understanding. "So that's how you managed to cross over. Arbane, take two of your warriors and go look for the changeling. I would like some answers." Three elves emerged from the group and took off over ground moving swiftly. Maeve bid Elizabeth stand, and she was more than happy to comply as her legs were growing stiff in the cold. Staring into her eyes, the queen was searching for something. "I know who took your child, and it wasn't me. I do wonder why, though. What is so special about your child that Oonagh would break her own edict?"
"Edict?" Elizabeth wasn't feeling very smart at the moment as she only understood about half of what the queen was saying.
"Sidhe are not allowed to mingle with humans. They also don't steal babies." The queen saw Elizabeth was about to interject. She held up her hand. "Oh, we used to. But it just isn't done anymore. It was Oonagh who laid down that law. But why you? Why now?"
"I don't care. I just want my daughter back." Elizabeth was losing her fear.
"Well, that's not going to happen. But I will tell you what is going to happen. You are going to come with me." The queen nodded to Raelgar, who snatched Elizabeth's arm in a tight iron grip.
"You can't do this! It's kidnapping!" Elizabeth yelled.
"Oh, you are so right, my dear. We have to fix that, don't we?" The queen smiled. "Raelgar, strip off her clothes. I want them found by the humans." Turning to Elizabeth, the queen almost looked like she had sympathy, but that passed in an instant. "Also, cut her. I want blood all over the clothes. And I want a pile of her hair on the clothes as well."
Elizabeth started to struggle as multiple sets of hands grabbed her dressing gown and her robe ripping them from her body. "How dare you! How dare you!" Elizabeth felt completely violated and indignant. For this, she was fighting like a wild animal. She bit and clawed, taking every chance she got until a swift blow from Raelgar sent her reeling to unconsciousness. Raelgar unceremoniously dumped a naked Elizabeth into another guard's arms as he instructed him to stand still.
Raelgar removed his knife from its sheath and not so gently scraped her scalp until he had a fistful of hair, the ends bloody. Then he slashed open a wound on Elizabeth's forearm, making sure he did not cut an artery. Even so, there was plenty of blood as he took her garments and rubbed her bleeding arm all over them. The tint of iron in the blood repulsed Raelgar. It was to be expected; he knew what human blood smelled like. Human beings, iron, human blood, all were anathema to the Sidhe. But there was something else that was strangely different about this human's blood. It didn't smell quite right. It smelled vaguely familiar, as if, no, it couldn't be.
"Raelgar, what is it?" The queen was watching his confusion with fascination.
"It's her blood, my queen. It doesn't smell right."
Maeve wrinkled up her nose and signaled Raelgar to bring the clothes to her. Lifting them to her nose, she sniffed. It took a moment before it dawned on Maeve what she was smelling, and then she laughed. She thrust the clothes back at Raelgar and ordered him to cross back over and carefully place them and the hair where the humans could find them. Raelgar was back in an instant.
The procession began to move as two of the soldiers carried Elizabeth between them. "My queen," Raelgar said. "Should we not kill this abomination?"
The queen turned to glare at Raelgar. He should not be questioning her authority. "I had thought of killing her once, but no, this one shall not die today. She may yet have a part to play, but her life is not forfeit."
"But my queen, she is a half-ling. Interbreeding is forbidden," Raelgar snarled.
"It is not her fault, Raelgar. I have a feeling that happened long ago. And yet the faery blood is not so diluted. Interesting." Maeve smiled. "She is a clue." And with that, Maeve turned to leave. "Come with me, Raelgar, we have no business here any longer."
"Yes, my queen." Raelgar bowed at the waist. He was subdued for the moment, as he could not go against his queen. But there would come a day when he would have his chance. While the queen might feel she is above the law, he would see it done and the half-ling destroyed.
The hounds bayed and had a scent that they picked up from Elizabeth's hairbrush. The search party released them, and they ran straight into the forest. Nikolai was beside himself. Dr. Barrett was there to lend his support, and John and Hunter were taking up the lead. The whole town had turned out to help Nikolai find his wife and child. He had called for help when he realized Elizabeth wasn't in her room and was nowhere on the grounds. Nikki had fallen asleep by the fireplace in the sitting room, a brandy in his hand to help ease him to sleep. He awoke to Rebecca asking him where Elizabeth was. The housekeeper said she wasn't in her room. That was when the search began, and so too the panic.
Ophelia was tucked away safely in the nursery, unharmed. But Euphemia was gone. She had taken their child, and from the direction the hounds took off in, it looked like she took her into the woods. All Nikolai could think about was the times Elizabeth had attempted to kill their daughter. He had waited, he didn't want to believe it all, and had procrastinated doing something about his wife. Now Nikolai feared the worst.
The search party waded into the trees, allowing the dogs to run free ahead of them, baying as they ran, nose to the ground following Elizabeth's scent. All Nikolai could smell was damp earth and rotting leaves. It was All Soul's Day, the day of revering the dead. It all seemed surreal. It was a grey day, heavy with fog and drizzle. The men all wore their coats and boots as they trudged through the forest with walking sticks, poking at the ground as they went.
The townsfolk looked at Nikolai with pity in their eyes as they passed him and walked off into the woods. Dr. Barrett was more worried about Nikolai's state of mind. He felt pretty confident he knew Elizab
eth's fate already. Nothing to do there. But for Nikolai, Dr. Barrett kept an eye on him. He offered his arm as support, and Nikolai's knees occasionally buckled as they moved through the forest. Nikolai didn't have much strength, his grief sapping the energy out of him.
The dogs began to bark, sounding excited and milling around an area up ahead. Their owners shooed them away and knelt on the ground. "Over here!" one of them called out. Nikolai's heart entered his throat. He wanted to run to her, but Dr. Barrett held him back and cautioned him. "Let them do it, Nikolai. We don't know what they've found." Nikolai felt like even less of a man at that moment.
The men waited for the dogs to continue their search, but they didn't move forward. The trail ended there. Nikolai shook his arm free of Dr. Barrett. "I'm her husband. I have the right to know." And Nikolai stumbled through the brush as he raced toward his wife. He caught a glimpse of the white robe as he neared where the searchers were. Nikolai stopped. He shook all over, not knowing if he could approach the scene. He found his courage and pushed forward, past the circle of men surrounding her.
Blood. There was so much blood. His wife's beautiful golden hair lay on the dressing gown, bloody and twisted. There were splatters of blood on the trees, on the grass, on the ground. The robe was soaked in it. But there was no body, not of his wife or his child. He looked away from the scene and scoured the woods with his eyes. He didn't see a body anywhere. He could overhear the men talking as snatches of conversation reached his ears. "Wolves" was the main word he kept hearing over and over. "Nothing left" was another.
The men were now staring at Nikolai. Some still showed pity, others looked sorrowful. But there were some men who looked at him with what he thought was disgust. It was those men that Nikolai focused on now. "What? Do you have something to say?" The men averted their eyes from his confrontation. "Are you thinking this is my fault? That I should have stopped her?" Nikolai felt strong hands on his shoulders, pulling him away. Dr. Barrett and Hunter had a hold of him and were guiding him back the way they came.
"Nikolai, come back to the house. You need to rest. You're in shock, we all are." Dr. Barrett was trying to talk to Nikolai. He barely heard him. "The men are only trying to help." Nikolai tore his arms free of Dr. Barrett and Hunter and let out a primal scream that caused the forest to go deathly quiet. Nikolai fell to his knees and held his face in his hands as he cried and screamed, "Why? Why did you have to leave me? Elizabeth, I have failed you." Dr. Barrett and Hunter picked Nikolai up off the ground and dragged him back to the house.
The search party continued on for the rest of the day, searching for a body. They found none. The conclusion was that the wolves had dragged Elizabeth off somewhere, and they couldn't find the hiding spot. The baby they weren't even looking for. Something so small, the wolves probably devoured the child quickly, leaving nothing left. The townsfolk were silent and awestruck over the apparent savagery of Elizabeth Merkova's death. In the coming days, another hunting party would be formed, and every single wolf that could be found was killed.
Titwell felt a hard lump in his back and grit underneath his hands. He slowly opened his eyes, not being able to make out any shapes in the darkness. His head pounded, and he reached around with his hand to massage his scalp as he felt a goose egg there. Slowly regaining consciousness, his memory started to return. Where was he? He had been heading out to the woods, following Elizabeth. Titwell sat straight up and reeled from the pain in his head. He was sitting on a stone floor with dirt and sand scattered about. The grey outdoors could be seen through the aging slats of the wall in front of him, signifying daybreak. Had he been out all night? Slowly, Titwell was regaining command of his faculties, and he figured out where he was. Someone put him in the potting shed.
A man's screams pierced the interior darkness and sent a shiver up Titwell's spine. Like the rest of nature, he immediately became still as he adjusted to information that scream conveyed. Titwell got up and moved to the door to open it a crack, just in time to see two men dragging Nikolai from the woods into the house. Fear ran down Titwell's body like a cold shower. Leaving the shed, he ran for the forest. Titwell hid among the trees and moved from jagged black skeleton to black skeleton of the now leafless trees, kicking up orange and yellow leaves as he ran. Up ahead, he saw the men gathered and the hunting dogs milling about. He needed to stay upwind of the dogs.
Titwell got close enough to see what the men were looking at. The dressing gown lay in a heap, covered in blood. Titwell swallowed hard. He didn't want to believe it. Elizabeth wasn't gone, she couldn't be. The men were talking, wondering how a whole body could disappear in one night. There should have been some remains somewhere. The men found it all suspicious, and some were openly speaking of murder. The man in charge squashed that. He pointed to the wolf tracks, and shamed the men for their thoughts.
Elizabeth was believed dead; how could anyone live when there was that much blood? But no body? Nothing at all? Titwell felt a slight tinge of hope. It appeared she was dead, but was she? Something had happened to her, and Titwell didn't believe it was wolves.
32
Strakx traveled as fast as he could, running along the length of large branches, attempting to cover as much ground as possible. He needed to reach Rhys before word of Elizabeth's death did. Strakx knew Rhys would not handle the death of his descendant very well. He had already been robbed of so much. Strakx reached the clearing that the two of them called home to find Rhys sitting on the rock staring at the sunrise.
Strakx approached carefully. "I can hear you, old friend, no matter how quiet you try to be." Rhys looked back over his shoulder and winked at Strakx. A sour feeling began in the pit of Strakx's stomach. His friend didn't know.
"Rhys, I have some bad news for ye."
"Oh, and how horrible could it be on this glorious day?" Rhys was not going to be dissuaded from his good mood.
"Bad," Strakx said.
Rhys frowned. "You're just going to spoil it aren't you?"
"She's dead. Elizabeth is dead, Rhys." Strakx immediately felt the sorrow he saw cross his friend's face.
"How?" Rhys said and his friend began to relate the events of the night before.
Rhys didn't say anything but his countenance grew darker and darker as he listened to his friend recount the story of the wolves. Rhys sat and puzzled over the news. He was not reacting as Strakx thought he would. Strakx waited patiently for something.
"Wolves," Rhys said.
"Yes, wolves," Strakx said.
"As in Maeve's wolves?"
Strakx felt surprise and then he didn't. "Oh no."
"What the hell is that bitch up to?"
Abigail Young walked down the main street of the village, still hell bent on her campaign. She saw a group of people gathered under the main oak tree in the center square, and she approached with curiosity. She could hear some people coughing, others crying, and some were shaking their heads.
"What will become of her little ones?" a woman asked.
"Edith, they still have a father. I am sure he can take care of them."
"Correction. He can take care of the one. I heard the other one died with her in the woods," a man stated.
"I heard it was the work of a group of traveling gypsies," piped up another concerned citizen. "What are we going to do?"
"Gypsies? Bah. You drink too much, Samuel. I heard she killed herself and the baby. Wasn't the first time she'd tried either," said another man.
"What's going on? What's happened?" Abigail Young didn't like it when she wasn't aware of everything taking place in town.
The townsfolk turned and looked at Abigail, and the stares were not friendly.
"You! You're what drove her to it!" declared one old man, pointing his bony finger at her. The crowd began to murmur in agreement as heads nodded and eyes narrowed.
Abigail Young placed her hands on her hips and stuck out her chin. "What on earth are you going on about? I haven't done anything."
"That young Merkov
a woman, the one you kept accusing of witchcraft. She's dead. Found dead in the woods this morning with her little one disappeared. Carried off by wolves, they say," said the old man. "Maybe she wouldn't have run off into the forest if you weren't accusing her of such misdeeds. You caused her to panic."
"I did no such thing. I never talked to Elizabeth Merkova. If she's dead, she's probably dead by the hands of her coven. Mark my words, there are evil doings in those woods!" Abigail shook her head so hard her hat went crooked as she lobbed her pointy finger at the crowd.
Finally, a man stood up, and the people cleared a path for him. That man was Pastor Kristopher Poole. He walked straight up to Abigail and stood directly in front of her. "Abigail Young, that's enough. There's been a tragedy in this parish, and everyone is upset. You do not need to make things worse by stirring up more trouble with your evil lies." Pastor Poole was calm, the way a tragedy makes you feel the weight of every action. His sternness broke no refusal. "I think it is best if you go home and do penance. We will pray for you, and may God have mercy on your soul." Pastor Poole folded his arms in front of him, and the rest of the townsfolk gathered around. Abigail shrank before the pastor and the other members of the parish. Being chided in public was an embarrassing display Abigail would preferably have avoided, and pink was rising up her collarbone to heat her face. She turned around in a huff and walked back the way she came.
The funeral was a somber affair. It softly rained as the procession made its way to the graveyard. Nikolai stood flanked by Rebecca and John, tears streaming down his face. Pastor Poole, eyes downcast, began to read the sermon. There were many faces Nikolai had barely known. Townspeople who turned out for the spectacle of it all, he supposed. The wolf hunting had gone on for a week, and many people had come and gone. Elizabeth was the only casualty of the wolf infestation. The fact that a woman had died made the men hunt doubly hard to get every last wolf they could.