The Lost Child

by H. P. Mallory

  Besides, if I killed Chevalier then Bryn would never forgive me.

  As I let go his throat, I snatched one of the stakes up from where Chevalier had dropped it on the floor. Spinning around, I sent the stake flying across the chamber. Though I did not see the creature move, the Fir Darrig must have ducked just in time as the stake stuck into the wall behind it, cracking the ice.

  The Darrig looked at me. “Well, I suppose that’ll do for today.

  Sleep well gentlemen, you fight again tomorrow. And who knows?

  Perhaps we will change the rules.”

  The Redcaps returned to chain us up and the giant escorted us back to our cell.

  For a long time, we did not speak, but sat in our respective corners, nursing our wounds.

  “Chevalier…” I began.

  But he held up a hand to stop me. “You did what you had to do.

  I’d rather leave it at that.” He was silent for a moment, then looked back at me. “You would have killed me there, wouldn’t you have?”

  “I thought we were going to leave it at…”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “No.” I honestly was not certain myself, but that seemed an unhelpful answer, given that we were doing this again tomorrow.

  Chevalier shook his head. “I will never understand what Bryn sees in you. You’re an animal.”

  I clenched my fists tightly, controlling my rage. But Chevalier noticed.

  “Go on. There’s nothing to stop you. Kill me, vampire. I’d sooner die down here to slake your vengeance than up there for the Darrig’s entertainment.”

  “Believe what you like,” I said, sullenly. “I would not have killed you. I will not kill you now. Nor tomorrow.”

  “What if the Darrig commands it?” asked Chevalier. “What if tomorrow is fight to the death? You or me.”

  “I will not kill you.”

  There was a pause. “You should.”

  “What?”

  Chevalier shrugged. “You have a child that deserves to know its father. What the hell have I got to live for?”

  “Klassje? Audrey?”

  He half-smiled. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

  #

  We fought again the following day. I, of course, had healed, Chevalier had not, but he fought remarkably well considering. I knew nothing about the Fae constitution, but if Chevalier was an example then I was impressed. His ability to recover was almost vampiric. Again, it was a nasty, bloody affair. The chairs had been removed, taking away the only advantage Chevalier had, but also denying me a weapon I might turn on the Unseelie Court.

  As we traded blow s, I wondered what chance I would have if I sprang up into the audience and turned my anger on them. Perhaps I might yet find out? If the Darrig made this a fight to the death, and he was still teasing us with that possibility, then that was the plan; to attack the Court itself. It would likely be futile, but we might take a couple of them with us, and at least we would not have to kill each other.

  As the fight ended, Chevalier looked all done in, barely able to remain on his feet. When we got back to the cell, he collapsed against one of the Redcaps and the goblin pushed him off, laughing cruelly.

  “See you tomorrow,” laughed the giant.

  I went to Chevalier’s aid, very aware he could not take another day’s fighting, but if I held back, then he would be tortured. As I rolled his body over to look at his wounds, I found him grinning broadly.

  “Sinjin, when you tell this story, and I know you will, do not stint in telling people just how much smarter I am than you.” He held up a bunch of keys.

  “From the Redcap?” I gasped.

  “Yes.”

  “We have to move now,” I snatched the keys and hurried to the door, “before the Redcap realizes his keys are gone.”

  “A simple thank you or perhaps a few words of congratulation might not have gone amiss,” mused Chevalier, he was enjoying this so much, he seemed to have quite forgotten how urgent were next steps.

  “Well done, very clever, thank you for saving me, now come on.”

  We unlocked the door and stole out into the corridor.

  “No guards,” I observed.

  “And a lock on the inside of the door.” Chevalier tutted.

  “Where’s the point in that? Do they ever let the prisoners lock themselves in?”

  “Come on.”

  We slipped through the hallways, always alert to Redcaps or worse still, members of the Court, but the place seemed still and silent.

  “Out through the tunnel?” suggested Chevalier. “The main gate might be a bit risky.”

  “Indeed.”

  We found our way down, through Tor Clyd, through the hidden wall to the secret entrance through which we had first entered this hell-hole.

  “Let’s hope they’ve fixed the bridge,” muttered Chevalier.

  “If not, then this was a lot of trouble for nothing.”

  “I have faith,” smiled Chevalier. “Across the bridge, through the mountains and back to Kinloch Kirk. Nothing easier. I’m sure Bryn is missing us both.”

  Why did he keep saying things like that?

  “I a m certain Klassje is missing you, as is Audrey.”

  “And I them both,” nodded Chevalier. “I know you doubt my sincerity Sinjin. I know how close you and Klassje are. But I do love her. Never doubt that.”

  That more or less set my mind at ease. Even if it did not, I should notbe thinking about affairs of the heart right now, when we were mid-escape.

  “Good.”

  “There’s blood on her hands,” Chevalier went on, chattily, “she’s told me stories, but I love her none the less.”

  “ Stories? ”

  Chevalier nodded. “Every vampire has a past.”

  I grabbed him by the throat. “And, yet, no vampire talks about it.”

  “Sinjin! What are you doing?”

  It was not just that Klassje had told me, herself, she never talked about her past. It was lots of little things from Chevalier that now added up. The strange attitude, the speed with which he had recovered from his injuries. And I had not told him about the destruction of the bridge.

  “Show yourself.” I squeezed harder

  “Sinjin!” Chevalier’s face turned from red to purple as I choked him.

  “Determined to play this out?”

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  For a split-second I wondered if I was making a mistake—the Darrig had watched us when we fought, after all. But, it could create an illusion of itself; I knew that from past experience.

  The Darrig was the master of deception, and I was not falling for it. I bit into the throat of my victim and from the first taste of blood, I knew my suspicions were right. If it had been more in control, the Darrig could probably have made even its blood an illusion, but a creature fighting for its life has no such control.

  With a spasm and a twisting of its limbs, the figure of Chevalier turned into that of the Fir Darrig, clutching and kicking and clawing at me. As I held the horrid creature, I noticed its limbs beginning to go invisible—I could see the landscape beyond through the translucence of its body.

  It began to chuckle. “You think you have bested me, vampire,” it said.

  I pulled away from the thing and watched as its body all but disappeared before me, it’s head the only thing still intact, still opaque.

  “I shall make a deal with you, vampire,” it said.

  “A deal?”

  “It is the blood running through the child’s veins that is of interest to me,” the creature started.

  I hated how ominous his words sounded. “What does that mean?” I growled.

  “It means I am willing to trade her for another of her bloodline,” the creature answered.

  “Someone whose blood runs through her veins.”

  “You have already lost,” I said, shaking my head. “You don’t have the baby any longer.”

  “Ah, but do you not believe I
could just as easily come for her again?” it demanded. “You cannot kill me and you cannot stop me from taking what I want, unless we make a trade.”

  It was a well known fact that you never wanted to enter into an agreement, or a trade, a bet, whatever, with anyone of the Fae persuasion. Someone from the Unseelie Court was an even bigger no.

  But, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place because I knew this would not be it. The Fir Darrig was telling the truth—it would come back for my daughter. Perhaps not now, perhaps not anytime soon, but it would come back for her.

  Unless…

  “If I agree to this trade, that means you will leave the child alone? Forever? You will never come after her again?”

  “Yes, if you agree to this trade, the child will be off limits to me.”

  “My child? The child of Bryn and myself?” I asked, just to make sure it wasn’t trying to trick me.

  “ Your child. If you agree, here and now, to sacrifice another of your child’s bloodline, I promise your child will never be bothered by someone from the Unseelie Court ever again.”

  I thought about what this meant and it took me perhaps a split second to agree. I would forever sacrifice myself for the benefit of my daughter.

  “I agree,” I said and paused. “I sacrifice myself for the life of my daughter.”

  The Fir Darrig began to laugh a high-pitched and awful sound.

  “You are free to leave, vampire,” it said as its head began to grow invisible and fairly soon, I was left standing there alone.

  NINETEEN

  SINJIN

  I did not understand why the Darrig released me after I had agreed to sacrifice myself in place of my daughter. But, I did not want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I made my escape post haste.

  You realize all this means is that the creature can now come for you whenever it chooses to, I told myself. You have entered into a contract with the blasted thing which means it can make true on the agreement at any time.

  Nevermind that. It was worth it. If it ensures the safety of my child, I do not care when the bloody thing comes for me.

  For a moment , I crouched there in the tunnel, feeling the breeze that blew in from the outside and savored that breath of freedom.

  It would be so easy to continue out; across the bridge, out of the mountains and back to Kinloch Kirk.

  I sighed. The old Sinjin would have done that. But then the old Sinjin had no friends to save. Not that Dureau Chevalier was my friend, but I still had to save him, all the same. And, I had to admit, the bastard was growing on me.

  I was still making a leap in assuming Chevalier was still alive.

  As I ran back through the halls, I considered things. It must have been that first day when I was taken before the Unseelie Court. When I had returned, Chevalier had not been in the cell, yet he was brought back in later. That, now I stopped to think about it, had been when he began saying things about Bryn, things that provoked me. And he began acting strangely. Had it been one of the Darrig’s games? If so, why would it want to fight me?

  Perhaps it had just needed to convince me this was all real. And I had been very convinced, indeed. But for a few small mistakes, the Darrig would have fooled me and we would have returned to Kinloch Kirk together, and they never would have questioned him if he arrived in my company. Then he would have taken my child again, just as he had said.

  No, this way was better. Now she would forever be protected. I would have sacrificed myself every day if I knew such would mean her safety. I would have done the same for Bryn.

  Beyond the cell in which I had been locked up, were more cells.

  They each had a small peephole in the door and, after a few empty ones, I found Chevalier, sitting alone in his cell, looking thin and morose.

  I have to admit to taking a certain degree of smug satisfaction in the fact that I was the one to rescue him, not vice versa .

  With the keys the Darrig had stolen from the Redcap (or perhaps not—who knew how deep his deception had gone?) I opened the door.

  Chevalier looked up in startled wonder. “Sinjin?”

  “Are you ready to go?” I asked, casually.

  He scrambled to his feet and we hurried along the corridor together. “Where have you been? I thought you were dead. What have you been doing?”

  “Killing you,” I replied.

  Chevalier nodded thoughtfully. “This sounds like too long a story to impart right this minute. Shall we escape first?”

  “I think that would be advisable.”

  #

  Chevalier and I emerged at the bottom of the tunnel, made our way down to the bridge , which had been magically repaired, and crossed it. On the far side, I stopped to look back at Tor Clyd.

  “Sinjin?”

  We were both exhausted, but we pushed ourselves as hard as we could through the mountains. So much remained unclear; we could not know for sure if the Unseelie Court was still in existence and likely to come after us, or perhaps the Fir Darrig’s Redcap army. It was a tremendous relief to get out of those mountains, and into the greener pastures of Faery. Here we finally stopped for a proper rest.

  Chevalier explained to me that , after I had been taken away on the first day, he had seen no one else. Food had appeared as he slept, but other than that, he had sat alone and in silence all that time. A few days can seem very long in such conditions, and he had wondered if this was all he had to look forward to for the rest of his life.

  That night, we allowed ourselves the luxury of sleep , waking only when the sun was high in the sky. As I had explained earlier, in Faery the sunlight did not offend me and I was quite able to walk about, feeling the rays upon my skin.

  “It feels like an age since we parted ways,” commented Chevalier, as we walked on. “I feel as if I haven’t seen Klassje in years.”

  I could not help smiling; the real Dureau talked about his actual girlfriend, rather than mine.

  “At least they had Odran to guide them.”

  “Which is more than we have,” Chevalier admitted. He was a Fae, but this was not his area. At the moment, we were just trying to retrace our path as quickly as we could. There was no specific rush, but I had had enough of this realm and was eager to get home. Though I was still wondering to myself what that home might mean to me personally.

  “Did you hear that?”

  It was rare for Chevalier to hear something before me, but I had been so caught up in my own thoughts, I had missed the crying and the taunting shouts until he drew them to my attention.

  “Come on.” Chevalier was many things and many of them I found faintly ridiculous, but if he thought someone was in trouble , he was always quick to act.

  We deviated from our route, heading into the fields where we were knee deep in meadow grass and wild flowers. The smell was extraordinary and the sound of insects filled our ears—this being Faery, some of them were singing to themselves.

  “Leave me alone!” A child’s voice.

  “Leave…”

  “… me…”

  “Leave…”

  “… alone!”

  “… me…”

  “Leave…”

  “… alone…”

  “… me…”

  “… alone!”

  The broken staccato chorus of mocking voices were low and harsh, interspersed with chuckling laughter.

  Chevalier picked up his pace and moments later, we found ourselves staring at a scene one could only find in Faery—though bullies are a species you will find anywhere.

  The bullies were boggarts. Even someone as unfamiliar with Faery as I was could recognize them; huge heads on diminutive bodies; huge mouths pulling rubbery faces at their victim. They popped up from the ground to shout some taunt or stick their tongue out, then dropped out of view again. At the center of their circling, sat what looked like a child, though in Faery that did not necessarily mean anything.

  She was proportioned like a six or seven year old , but barely a third th
e size of a human of that age. Her long hair was dressed with flowers and her clothing was composed of petals and leaves that seemed almost to drift about her rather than being woven into garments. She was a flower Fae, and was currently collapsed in the grass crying to herself as the boggarts tormented her.

  To this point that tormenting seemed to have been mostly verbal, but as we drew closer, one popped up next to her and pinched her, hard enough to leave a purpling bruise, making the girl squeal in pain. Another bounced up to tug on her hair, another to slap her face, all to the accompaniment of that chuckling laughter and the girl ’s increasing crying.

  “Hey!” Chevalier ran forward, waving his arms as if he were scaring crows out of a field. “Get away from her!”

  A boggart bounded up from the ground before him, right in front of the fop’s face and boxed his ears. Chevalier took a swing at the creature, but it had already vanished again, only to pop up behind him to kick him in the back of the neck with the heavy steel toe-capped boots it wore.

  More boggarts now began to turn their attention to Chevalier, who tried, in vain, to swipe them away, and I would have found this very amusing indeed, had they not also continued to taunt and torment the little flower Fae. Striding forwards, I grabbed one of the boggarts out of the air, the creature yelping in shock.

  Boggarts are fast; vampires are faster. I raised the creature to level with my eyes, baring my fangs as I did so. Boggarts are nasty; vampires are terrifying.

  “Tell your friends to stop or I will break your pathetic little neck,” I growled.

  The Boggart struggled in my grip and squealed out a stream of panicked instructions in their own gabbling language. The boggarts dived back into the earth, making good their escape.

  “Trouble this girl again,” I snarled, “and I will find you.”

  “Yeah yeah yeah,” the boggart squeaked.

  I dropped the creature to the ground, where it delved down into the soil and was gone.

  Chevalier was already over by the Fae. “Are you alright?”

  The girl nodded and then looked up at me, shyly. “Thank you. You saved me.”

  “We were passing,” I replied.