Changeling: Prelude to the Chosen Chronicles

by Karen Dales

  Pleased with how well he did, the boy stood, waiting for Notus. The monk made his way through the undergrowth, his brown robes momentarily sticking to small branches and twigs before releasing him as he moved forward. For the first time, the boy had a sense of foreboding at Notus’ approach. He could clearly discern Notus’ stern expression.

  Hunger calling him, the boy knelt down beside the graceful neck of the deer; the pulsing of the carotid artery was mesmerizing.

  Notus’ hand fell onto his shoulder. If he noticed the dampness caused by his still wet hair, he made no mention. “I know what I taught you about feeding, but I feel it important for you to know what it is like to feed freely.”

  Stunned, the boy looked up at Notus, searching the man’s face for the truth. All he saw was sadness mingling with apprehension, making his worry grow. He looked back at the doe. He did not know if he could do what Notus wanted and why should he if doing so created such a reaction in the man.

  As if sensing the boy’s worry, Notus gave the boy a gentle reassuring squeeze before letting go. “Go ahead. You need to know what this is like. Just let go and let instinct guide you.”

  Steeling his resolve, the boy took a deep cleansing breath. Goddess he was hungry. With one last glance up at his Chooser he moved closer, bringing his face an inch above the throbbing vessel. The scent beneath the skin was intoxicating. It had taken him so long and so many times to control the hunger so as not to kill. The thought of letting go of that control was more than enough of an impetus. Biting down hard, hot blood erupted into his mouth. The taste fuelled his hunger and his first reaction was to just let the heart bring the sweet life giving liquid to him then he remembered what Notus wanted him to do and he surrendered to his hunger.

  Succulent blood ignited within and he sucked, forcing the blood into his hungry mouth faster than the heart could handle. Each pull threatened the life of the deer and he had to hug the beast in a deadly grip to keep it from thrashing. Its own instincts for life created a tug-o-war, one that she was quickly losing with each swallow of her blood into him. Sucking on the wound to pull more precious fluid into him, he could hear the heart begin to skip beats and falter. The doe’s terror of its imminent death forced greater thrashings, but he held her still in his grip. He continued to nurse, suckling as her attempts for escape diminished. Her heart fluttered once, then twice more and then stopped.

  At the instant of the doe’s death, the boy abruptly pulled back with a gasp, his eyes wide as he licked his lips. He felt euphoric and he closed his eyes to luxuriate in the feeling of the deer’s life within him.

  “Did it feel that way when you killed Tarian’s attackers?”

  The question shocked the boy out of his reverie and he spun around in place to stare up at Notus’ stern expression. He did not know whether to be offended or hurt. Those men had deserved what they got. Did they not? Slowly, he rose to his feet, the dead doe forgotten, never leaving the monk from his sight.

  “Well, did it?” pressed the man, a hint of anger tingeing his voice.

  Placed on the sudden defensive, the boy’s eyes narrowed, his anger growing. He could not imagine what would make his Chooser demand this from him. No, it did not feel the same as killing those men. The satisfaction he gleaned from that experience was completely as a result of feeling he had done something right. Was not that what Notus had said? What did Notus expect?

  Shaking his head in disgusted disbelief, he turned around to head back home.

  “Don’t you dare leave this spot until you answer my question,” ordered Notus.

  The boy halted. He could feel the man’s brown eyes boring into his back and then the pain in the centre of his forehead came back. His own anger grew. Why Notus was brewing for a fight he did not know, but if he was going to be drawn into one he wanted to know why. Turning around, his eyes met the monks.

  “Why do you deem it necessary to know how I felt when I killed that woman’s attackers?”

  The pain vanished in an instant as Notus’ eyes went wide and then rubbed his own forehead before pinching the bridge of his nose.

  With a sigh, Notus looked up. “Because I need to know why, in God’s green earth, she would think you to be a fictitious Fairy Lord who came out of the mists to rescue her. If she had seen you feed, we would have a problem.”

  The explanation shocked the boy. He did not know whether to yell at Notus for being stupid or to laugh. Instead he held out his arms open at his sides. “Figure it out for yourself,” he said before turning to leave. He was still angry.

  “Wait! Boy!”

  He heard Notus calling from behind him, but this time he would not stop.

  “Stop!”

  He felt a firm grasp on his arm and he halted to glare down at the monk. Was it his imagination or did the short dark haired man cringe?

  “Look, I’m sorry,” explained Notus. “But I need to know how you killed those men.”

  “Why?” spat the boy.

  “Because mortals aren’t allowed to know that we exist unless they are about to be Chosen. If they find out about our existence it could cause us trouble, more than you can imagine. That’s why I need to know. Because if she even suspects then something will have to be done about it.”

  The boy stiffened.

  As if reading the boy’s mind Notus continued, “I wouldn’t harm her, but we do have abilities I have yet to show you that could change her memories.”

  He shook off his Choosers grasp. “You could have said so in the first place.”

  Abashed, Notus stared at the undergrowth at the base of a tree ahead of them.

  Glancing up at the umbrella of leaves, the boy let out a sigh. For someone who was supposedly so ancient and learned, Notus still needed to learn tact. “No,” he answered, his voice soft and melodic in the quiet of the night. “I did not feed on them. I used the stick I was making into a sword. If you have any more accusations make them now.”

  “Then why would she think you a Fairy Lord?”

  The boy could not believe the naïveté of his Chooser. “Why would anyone in these parts think of me that way? Yes she saw me move faster than a mortal. Yes she saw me burn in the light of day. But even if she hadn’t seen those two things she would still think of me as such.”

  “Not everyone thinks of you like that,” said Notus, incredulously.

  Shaking his head, he stalked away, leaving the monk standing alone in the suddenly quiet forest.

  Chapter XII

  “Come on,” urged Notus. “Let’s go. We don’t have all night.”

  The boy scowled. They had fed, this time killing their prey, and now the dead buck lay across his shoulders as they wound their way through the woods. He did not know where they were headed, but Notus seemed to be in a hurry.

  They had not talked much in the last couple of nights. Mainly because he was still angry with the monk and Notus sensed it. He was grateful for the silence. He had expected a rift to form between them, but surprisingly, one had not developed. Notus was willing to wait until the boy cooled, whenever that would be. Even the boy did not know. Now he followed the monk through the forest and once on a well-worn track they were able to move fast enough that the world around them became a blur of green and shades of grey.

  Notus had not said where they were going or why, but seemed anxious to get there. A couple of times Notus had tried to broach a subject of conversation, but quickly squashed the attempt when he saw the look in the boy’s eyes. It became quite clear to the boy that Notus did in fact find his eyes disturbing to behold. That was not a shock. Neither Auntie nor Geraint could withstand his intense gazes for long.

  He followed at a respectful distance, the corpse of the dead buck hardly a bother to his new found strength. What he also did not understand was why Notus wanted them to bring it along. They could not eat it. It would make them very sick, or so the monk had said. So why was he carrying it? And where were they going?

  Long minutes passed in a blur. Trees and bushes
became a wash of vibrant greens in the near moonless night as he passed down the track. He did not know where they were going. This was a new part of the woods to him. The path opened up wider until he could distinctly make out the ruts in the mud. They were on a cart track. A sense of foreboding gripped the boy and he nearly stumbled over the monk as they reduced their pace to a mortal one.

  He wanted to ask where they were going, and the words were on the tip of his tongue when the forest suddenly relinquished its comforting hold on them. He stopped, the words dying unspoken as his mouth dropped open at the sight of what could only be a village.

  Under a canopy of stars veiled by fast moving wispy clouds, round houses made of stone and thatched roofs, not unlike the one he grew up in, speckled the landscape ahead. Smoke from hearth fires floated upwards before being caught and blown away by the cool breeze coming from the west. He did not need to focus to hear voices in states of laughter and argument. They mostly seemed to come from one of the larger structures in the centre of the array along the cart track.

  Heart pounding a torrent of fear between his ears, the boy tried to swallow and found his mouth dry as fluff. He could not believe it. Notus had brought him to a village where there were people! People who, if they saw him… He terminated that thought, shuddering at the implications.

  And Notus brought him here! How could he?

  He glanced around to see where the monk had gone, but Notus was still walking ahead, oblivious to the fact that the boy had stopped. All of a sudden, Notus halted and turned around to face him, his dark brows drew together as he came back.

  “What’s the matter?” queried Notus. “Why did you stop?”

  “I’m…I’m not going there,” said the boy, huskily, shaking his head. Lifting the buck off his shoulders he let it drop with a dull thud to the ground.

  Notus stared down at the corpse and then back up at his Chosen, a contemplative frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I thought that you would like to visit Tarian and see how she and her baby are doing since you are the one who rescued them.”

  The boy’s eyes met the monks, but it was his turn to look away. Did he want to see Tarian? He did not know. A part of him was concerned and would like to visit, but not if it meant going to this place of strangers. Strangers equalled harm. He shook his head.

  Feeling exposed as if many eyes were upon him, he glanced back at the village and saw a figure staring in their direction. A new wash of fear rolled over him and he turned to flee back into the safe embrace of the woods. It was only when he noticed that Notus had not followed that he stopped to turn around. Beyond the trees he saw the robed man huff, shake his head and follow, obviously annoyed by the situation.

  He waited until his Chooser caught up before turning back the way they had come but the hand on his arm arrested his movement.

  “Alright, you don’t want to see Tarian and her baby,” commented Notus. The boy opened his mouth to protest, but Notus’ raised finger making the words disappear before a breath could be taken so as to speak them. “But we do have business that needs to be taken care of, and that means going to that village there.”

  “Wha…what business?” Horrified the boy could barely speak.

  Notus walked to stand under a lone oak and motioned the boy to follow. “Sit,” he commanded and the boy did so, worry washing over him. Notus knelt down before him. “Did you think I was traveling these parts just for the sake of it? Did it never occur to you where I came from and where I was going?”

  The boy shook his head. White tendrils of hair floated in front of his face to be pushed back with a pale hand. It was never something he really gave much thought to.

  Brown eyes bore into his. “I was on my way to Ynis Witrin, to the new monastery there, delivering the beginnings of their library. Now, since meeting you, I have to go to Londinium and you are going to have to come with me. I cannot have you meeting the Elders in that.” Notus tugged at the worn doe hide kilt the boy wore. “You need some proper clothing and to do that we have to go into the village.”

  At first the words made no sense, they did not seem real, almost as though spoken in another language and then the meaning seeped in. Notus wanted to take him away! He wanted to expose him to others! Panicked, the boy slowly rose to his feet, his back against the rough bark of the tree, shaking his head over and over. It went against everything Auntie had taught him.

  A cool hand grasped his trembling arm as if to calm him, but he brushed it away as he turned to find the path that brought them here, but stopped at the pressure on his forehead. “I can’t,” he panted over and over. Then Notus was there, suddenly standing above him. Somehow he was on his knees.

  “Breathe.” Notus’ cool hand touched the back of his neck. “Just focus on your breath.”

  “I…I…can’t.” The sense of panic grew. His heart beat thunderously in his temples.

  “Oh dear. Listen to me, my son.” Another cool hand guided his face and it took a moment to register Notus’ worried expression. “You can’t live in that cave alone for the rest of your life. And a long life it will be. It is your choice whether you choose to simply exist or to truly live. You’ve existed for too long. It’s time to live. I hope you choose life for life is magical, mysterious and a never-ending adventure.

  “The world changes and grows and to live in it, you have to change and grow. If you stay, to exist alone, one day you will be discovered. Existence alone is not living. You cannot let your fears rule you. Not everyone is a bad person. There are many good people out there.”

  The boy could only shake his head and glance away for a brief moment before Notus brought him back to face him.

  “Yes, there are good people out there. After nearly five hundred years I would imagine I have a pretty good grasp on such things.” A smile lightened Notus serious expression. “And I do know that you have the courage to face your fears or you would never have stepped up to save Tarian and her baby.”

  “That was different,” said the boy in a shaking voice, trying to excuse himself.

  “No. It wasn’t.” The boy could tell Notus was adamant in his belief, if only he could have even a partial amount of that belief. He managed to swallow down some of his anxiety.

  “Now, come on.” Notus lifted him to his feet and on wooden legs went with him to the edge of the wood. “Do you see that house on the furthest edge of the village? The one in front of that large pen? That is where we are going. Alright?”

  The house in the distance was a little larger than many of the others, but its location marked it as being separate, yet part of the community. It was definitely much larger than the home he grew up in. Heart pounding in his chest, the boy worried his lip and glanced down at the monk. “I don’t know.”

  “It will be alright. I’ll be right beside you,” Notus said with a comforting smile.

  The boy looked back at the village and the home. If Notus believed it was safe… He took a deep shaking breath and realized that he was willing to take this leap and finally solidify his trust in this man who seemed to care so much for him. “Okay.”

  The wooden door to the stone house was weather worn. In the centre, near the top, hanging by a single nail, sprigs of green accented the colourful array of picked flowers, bringing a sense a beauty to the dingy grey door.

  The boy stood back and off to the side. He could not believe he let himself be talked into coming and he hugged himself in an effort to get his trembling under control. Every instinct in him told him to run, to escape. Instead he watched Notus raise his right hand to knock three times. Each knock thundered in his ears. The sound alone was enough to make him take a step back to flee, but he caught himself in time to hear a faint voice welcome them to enter.

  Notus turned his head to face him with a small encouraging smile. “Ready?”

  A new bolt of terror washed over him. If there was ever a time to back out, he had passed it. The single nod of his head was lie enough. Catching his breath as Notus opened the
door; he bent and followed the monk out of the night and into another world.

  His first sight was of the stone fireplace nestled along the northern wall. Its warm yellow light near blinded him as he stood to his full height inside the house, knocking his head on one of the lower beams of the rafters. His eyes adjusted quickly and he could see the opulence of the place. He had never seen a fireplace before, and the cauldron and other cooking utensils were all blackened iron. The posts arranged throughout the home were decorated in colourful paintings of hart and hind, raven and heron, salmon and frog, bear and boar. Green serpents undulated their way between them, enlivening the home with a pulsating energy that cried out of the sacred. Overhead beams hung with every manner of herb and flower and root.

  The eastern wall was home to a large round table and curved benches to match. The polished wood gleamed in the dancing firelight, giving the wood a reddish glow.

  The western part of the home was blocked off with rich tapestries of woven wool. There were no distinct shapes, but every colour the boy had ever seen was woven into the drapes that divided the sleeping quarters from the living ones. Blues mingled and melded into green. Reds, yellows and oranges clashed magnificently with the purples and browns. The whole home was alive and the boy could feel it thrumming through him the same as when he had worshipped the Old Gods with Auntie.

  He caught Notus glancing at him, a smirk lifting his thin lips. “We’re here, just like I promised,” Notus called out.

  “I’ll be right out,” came a soft feminine voice behind one of the tapestries. It was a voice that carried the implied strength of silk. The hangings fluttered at the homeowner’s movement. “I was just feeding Beti so that Tarian can rest when you knocked.” The drapes parted. “I hadn’t expected you so – Oh my dear Goddess!”

  The woman before the tapestries stood in stark reflection to the boy as they stared at one another.