Changeling: Prelude to the Chosen Chronicles

by Karen Dales

  Dumbfounded, he tilted the clasp. A double headed dragon connected by a complicated braiding with a pin woven around the dark fabric stared back at him. Something was familiar about it. He had seen it before but that was not possible. Neither he nor Auntie had anything like this. The only person he had seen wear such as this was – Geraint! The pin belonged to Geraint! His eyes widened at the realization and at the discovery that the woman whose generosity astounded him was Geraint’s daughter. Her sad smile blurred through the wash of unshed tears.

  “Thank you,” he said, hoarsely.

  She nodded, her own eyes swimming, and she caressed his smooth cheek. It was the first touch he did not flinch from. “You will always have a home with us.”

  Unexpectedly the door opened with a crash, dispelling the connection between Eira and the tall pale young man and caused the baby in the cradle to cry.

  “Mama, c’mon out, you’re missing all the fun.” Bronwen bounded into the roundhouse followed by Tarian carrying her swaddled daughter and halted at the sight of Father Notus standing closest to the door.

  “Oh, you came!” she exclaimed, and ran to hug the monk.

  Tarian’s eyes widened at the sight of her saviour and Eira standing between the beds at the back. Closing the door, she had thought she had dreamed that night of the attack and the fairy lord that saved her. Seeing him here in the home of her benefactor, regally dressed, captured her breath. When she remembered to breathe Tarian found her heart rapidly beating.

  Surprised by the intrusion, the young man found he could only stare at the transformed woman he had saved a few months ago. She was shorter than he remembered, but with her face healed from the lacerations and bruises, he could see the soft rounded beauty of her slightly freckled face. Loosely curled chestnut hair floated around her head and past her shoulders. Eira’s beauty was borne out of his lack of experience, Tarian’s captivated him. Even with her daughter held at her chest, he found that everything and everybody had disappeared in the home except for the two of them.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Out of the mouth of babes, Bronwen was quick to pick up on the buzzing energies.

  Embarrassed and feeling overly exposed, he nervously dropped his gaze to the floor.

  “Nothing, my sweet,” saved Notus, reading the looks between his Chosen and Tarian, and ruffled Bronwen’s thick brown hair. He was pleased that the young man was more at ease and obviously allowing himself to connect to others. It was a good first step. Though what had transpired between his Chosen and Eira was a mystery to him.

  Sticking out her tongue as if sick, Bronwen pulled herself from Notus’ embrace and declared, “I’m going back to the festival.”

  “Bronwen,” exclaimed Eira, stepping forward to her daughter, Llyr quieting in her arms. “Please remember your manners.”

  “Sorry mama,” muttered Bronwen, abashed.

  Crouching down to face her daughter, Eira brushed an unruly lock from the girl’s face. “Thank you, sweeting. We’ll be out soon.” With a kiss on the forehead, Eira patted Bronwen’s bottom as she turned and headed out the door.

  “Did you want me to watch Llyr?” shyly ventured Tarian once Bronwen had left.

  “Thank you, dear.” Eira stood and placed the sleeping baby back into his cradle. “That’s okay. Father Paul and I have some things to discuss. I can watch Beti and you two can go to the festival.” Her eyes swung from Tarian to the pale man.

  “That would be nice.” Tarian smiled and placed Beti in the same crib as Eira’s son. Taking in his full measure, she stated, “Those are the clothes we made for you. You look nice.”

  Dumbstruck at the number of people around him, and by Tarian’s appraisal, he glanced at Notus wondering what to do beside follow his instinct to flee. He was greeted by a smile. Obviously his Chooser was enjoying himself.

  “Would you like to come to the festival?” asked Tarian. She hoped he would say yes. He had said nothing so far and she feared rejection for the first time since she thought her husband would not propose to her. That had been another lifetime and he was buried. He had been a good and gentle man. Not very good looking, it was his heart that mattered to her, but this fairy lord took her breath away and the thought of going to a festival with him was something born of a dream.

  Before he could decline, a grinning Notus piped up and answered, “Of course he is, and he will be happy to accompany you.”

  Eyes widened in surprise, he glared at his Chooser. This had not been in the plans. They were to go, get his clothing and go back to the cave. There was nothing mentioned about going to the festival, let alone without Notus. He opened his mouth to object.

  “Then it’s settled,” declared Eira. “You two, out. Go. Enjoy the festival.”

  Before he knew what was going on, he was ushered out the door with Tarian. The sound of the door closing with a thud made him distinctly aware of the presence of the villagers. Fear staggered him to a standstill as he watched children darting in and about the festivities. He wanted to run, but was too afraid to move. A touch on his forearm caused him to jump.

  “If you put up your hood no one will notice you,” Tarian quietly suggested.

  Confused, he stared down at her, not exactly sure of what she had said until the words finally sunk in. Pulling the cowl over his head, he found he felt a little less exposed hidden beneath the fabric.

  Tarian moved to follow the sounds of boisterous activities around the fire. Realizing that he did not follow she halted and turned back to stand before him. For someone who was able to fight off several raiders intent on murdering her and her daughter, seeing fear in his large eyes scared her. “What’s wrong?”

  Unable to tear his view of the multitudes in celebration he absently shook his head. “I can’t,” he barely whispered, his heart pounding in his ears. “Too many people.”

  Glancing over her shoulder to the fire and then back to the tall, frightened man before her, Tarian wondered anew at her saviour. There had been such strength in him, but now she only saw vulnerability. She reached and took his hand in hers, causing him to break his trance and look down at her. “That’s okay; we can sit over here, out of the way and watch the festivities.”

  He allowed himself to be led to a bench set against the side of Eira’s home. It was far enough away from everyone that he did not feel conspicuous, but it was still close enough for Tarian to enjoy the night. The bench creaked under their combined weight as they sat and in the reflected firelight he took full notice of her beauty. Her gown was green and plain, fitting snugly to her young curvaceous form. The flickers from the fire lit up her long hair to a fiery red that brought out the summer green of her eyes.

  With a sigh Tarian leaned her head and back against the stone and mud wall allowing silence to settle between them.

  Catching himself watching in fascination at the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he quickly turned his gaze to the festival when he realized he was staring.

  “I want to thank you for coming to mine and Beti’s rescue,” she said quietly, breaking the silence. “I don’t remember much of that night, but I do remember how you saved us and for that I am completely in your debt.”

  He did not know what to say and so said nothing.

  “It’s been hard. My husband is gone to the Gods. My parents, if they still live, are far to the north. If not for Beti, I would be alone. If not for you I would be. Now we have a chance for life. Thank you.”

  He wanted to tell her that he was sorry he had not been there sooner and found that he still wanted to protect her. Hunching over so that elbows rested on his thighs, he stared at his clasped hands and the boar’s tusk dangling from his right wrist. Not for the first time he felt the guilt of having watched for so long before stepping forward to help her.

  He could feel her eyes on him, but did not return her look, instead he gazed upon the distant blaze allowing the silence to overtake them again. After an unknown time of watching the play between children—Bronwen in the middle
of it all—the banter between friends and the passion between lovers, he spoke without realizing and found he could not stop the fall of words.

  “All my life I have been hidden away. I could not even watch without repercussions. I don’t understand how I can be here now and be accepted.”

  He felt Tarian press close against him, her heat and scent filling him, warming him, and he sighed as he closed his eyes. She took his hand in hers and laid her head upon his upper arm. “Do you still feel this way?” she whispered.

  "Yes." He leaned back, forcing her to lift her head to look at him. He did not know why he was confiding in her, but something about her fragile strength captivated him.

  “Then we both feel the same way,” she said. “I don’t think I will ever truly feel safe again.”

  Suddenly, he realized he wanted Tarian to feel safe again and he wanted to be the one who did it. With a boldness he did not realize he had, he covered her hand with his free one.

  “Eira says that you are leaving tomorrow. What if you stayed?” Her summer green eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

  “I can’t.” He pulled his hands away from hers. Oh how he wanted to. The illusion of having a normal life being with Tarian was intoxicating yet excruciating to know it could never be. Even had he not been Chosen, he was too different and that would always be a threat.

  She stared at the ground in silence as he looked back at the festivities, watching a couple gently caress and kiss each other. Fearful that he was intruding on a private moment he brought his gaze back to his clasped hands and the ivory decorating his wrist. Silently he slipped it off and placed it in Tarian’s lap.

  Picking up the majestic tusk, it gleamed in the firelight as she stared in awe. “What is this for?”

  “I want you to have it,” he replied, sitting up to look at her surprised expression.

  “I can’t take this.” She pressed it back into his hand. “It’s too rich a gift.”

  “It’s worthless to me. Please take it.” He held it out for her.

  She took it from his bone white hand, eyes glued to it, as she slipped it over her hand to dangle from her wrist.

  "Thank you," she muttered and went to brush a stray hair from her face. Her hand met his and she looked up into his beautiful crimson eyes.

  He had not realized what he was about to do until her hand met his and she allowed him to brush back her hair. It was softer than he remembered and as he paused at the pale smoothness of her neck he felt a sudden flush of heat. She leaned into the caress and he felt her strong pulse under his fingers pull at him. Her scent crowded out all thought except for her and her face and her full lips. Suddenly he felt the need to kiss those lips, his fear mounting to new heights.

  She leaned forward and he enclosed his lips around hers, her mouth opening to let him enter. He felt her hands reach up to brush back his hood, spilling long white hair around them as the kiss deepened to include an embrace.

  Yessssss.

  The intensity of the sensuous enjoyment he felt increased as the sound of her heartbeat pounded in his ears. The scent of her blood flooded his mind. He trailed kisses down the side of her neck.

  Now!

  The throbbing vessel teased and delighted him as he licked and sucked, making her moan under his gentle administrations. He so desperately wanted to break the skin with his teeth and drink in her essence.

  Fulfill the covenant!

  He was keenly aware of her hands caressing his chest, moving down. Her touch exploded his hunger, calling him to pierce her flesh with his teeth and drink her erotic blood.

  Fulfill the covenant…NOW!

  “No!” he shouted as he thrust himself away from doing their bidding. Panting in terror of what he had almost done, he dropped his head into his shuddering hands. He did not want to see the disappointment on Tarian’s face. He did not want her to see the terror the voices evoked in him.

  “What’s the matter?” she implored, pulling back the white curtain his hair made over the side of his face. She could see him trembling to regain control.

  “Went too far too fast,” he stammered, shaking his head. “This shouldn’t have happened.” He felt her warm hand caress his face, forcing him to swallow down the rising hunger that leapt at her soft touch, and pulled away.

  “But it did,” she said softly. “I don’t regret it. Please look at me.” He turned to gaze sadly upon her beauty. “You saved my life and that makes me yours. Our souls intertwined. I will never forget this, even unto my future lives, until we meet and I return your gift.” She sighed and leaned back against the wall.

  Baffled by her words, he stared at Tarian, drinking in the sight of her, knowing that what she hoped would never come to pass. Releasing the breath he unknowingly held, he sat back, their arms touching as they watched the festivities, each accepting the solitude together.

  He had never heard music before, the drumming, flutes and stringed instruments wove an intricate pattern of sound that titillated him, drawing the faintest of smiles. Closing his eyes, he let the music carry and wash over him. He could almost allow the music to draw him into the circle around the fire, so hypnotic. Instead the sounds drew him out of himself and his worries until all that was left was the music.

  The bass beating of the drums throbbed through him as though far and distant. They sang alone, flutes and strings forgotten as the others shouted in exultation. Gradually the drums began their slow crescendo that were met with much louder drumming, their beats at dissonance with each other. Opening his eyes, he noticed that no one was aware of the conflicting sounds. Everyone around the fire had taken to dancing and singing with the music. Closing his eyes, he turned his head, extending his Chosen sensitive hearing and realized the sound he heard was not drumming.

  “What is it?” asked Tarian, concerned at his sudden change of behaviour.

  He raised his hand, silencing her as he continued to search for the source of the ever increasing drumming. Opening his eyes, he looked out into the night but could see nothing and raised his hood in hopes that to cut out the light from the fire he would see deeper into the darkness. The shifting of Tarian’s body to a stand brought his attention to her wide eyed frozen form. She whispered only one word. “Horses.”

  Name finally given to the sound he heard, he stood up and saw them approach. Their cloaks billowing behind them in demon wings, more than a dozen men on horseback rode hard from the north. The musicians, playing at the fire’s edge, fell off their notes to allow for the roar of horses hooves. Faces full of happy tidings turned upside down, fear twisting features in stunned horror that raiders would attack at night, let alone during a festival. Women and children’s screams and men’s shouts crashed into the wave of horsemen leaping into the village.

  Without warning a piebald horse bounded in front of him, forcing him back into Tarian who gasped in fright. The man on the horseback glittered in old mail and creaked with worn leathers while the horse’s sides heaved and steamed in the cool night air. Brandishing a well-used and sharp sword, the raider brought it to bear at the tall young man’s chest. “Move.”

  Closing the door behind Tarian and the young man, Eira shut her eyes for a moment to gather her strength for what was to come and turned to face her friend.

  “Eira, what’s wrong?” Notus quickly came to her side, noting her distress, and guided her back to the bench at the table.

  Before she could allow him to make her sit, she pulled from his grasp. She had to do this. She had to know. “Where did you find him, Paul?” Her voice shook.

  Confused at her sudden change and her question, Notus asked, “Is this the other part of the payment you wished?”

  “It’s gone beyond that.” She shook her head sending long strands of black hair swinging. “Where did you find him?”

  There was urgency to her insistence so strong that it forced him to sit down. With careful editing he told Eira of the night in the forest where he came upon the lad and finding him alone and living in the
cave he decided to take the boy under his wing.

  “So you never met him before this spring?” she urged.

  “No,” he replied, shaking his head, wondering what this was all about. This had nothing to do with her initial belief that he was a returned God of the Woods.

  “Did he ever tell you anything about his past?” Her breath quickened and he could hear her heart beat match pace. There was something she wanted to hear that he was not telling her and he did not know what that was.

  “Not much in the time we’ve been together,” he cautiously replied.

  “Did he ever give you his name?”

  “No. Eira, what is this all about?”

  Agitated, Eira paced, wringing her hands. She was always so calm and easy going. Seeing her like this worried Notus. He wanted to help her, but he did not know how.

  “Did he ever talk about a man named Geraint or a woman named Llawela?” Her brown eyes bore into his searching for any answers he may have.

  Taken aback by the first name, Notus could only nod mutely. He had heard the boy talk ever so briefly about a Geraint, but not any woman named Llawela, only the woman who raised him whom he called Auntie. In the expectant silence Notus told Eira this and watched her pale.

  Alarmed, he grasped her, afraid she was going to faint, and made her sit. Crouching before her, he placed a hand on her forehead and then to the side of her throat. “Eira, please tell me what is going on.”

  Eyes threatening to spill over, Eira softly spoke. “Paul, please, whatever I tell you here, please never ever repeat it. Please never tell him for it would only hurt him. Will you swear to your Good God that you will?”

  Whatever it was that Eira had to share, hiding it from his Chosen was something he did not think he could do. They would be together for a long time and even now the trust the boy felt for him was tenuous at best. “I can’t, Eira.”