Changeling: Prelude to the Chosen Chronicles

by Karen Dales

  “How did it feelllll?” Its fetid breath washed over him, nausea overriding the pain. The tendrils loosened just enough.

  “Wh—wh—what?” he stammered, teeth chattering. He did not want to answer. He did not know the question.

  Frigid fire laced through him as tendrils squeezed even tighter forcing a scream to ruin his throat.

  “How did it feellll,” it hissed. Its face closer to his. “How did it feelllll to feeeed offfff your ffffffirst human?”

  He tried to shrink away from the memory. Blood so full of life cascading down his throat filling him with energy no other creature had given him. The man’s heart pounded in fear, finally succumbing to the inevitable. The essence of the man pouring in and filling him until there was nothing left. It was agonizingly intoxicating.

  “Good. Good.” It loosened its grasp. Its eyes closed, drinking in the memory.

  It opened its eyes once the memory was completed. A malicious smile formed on his grey white lips. “Nowwww I will telllll you a ssssssssecret. I know your ssssoul. I have owned it since the night of your conception. You are mine!”

  He could not believe what he was hearing. It could not be possible. “N—n—no,” he stammered. “You lie.” His courage slowly returned as he shook his head in mute defiance. He could never believe this creature.

  Suddenly, he was released. The force sent him reeling as laughter shattered the silence. The sound was thousands of insects buzzing angrily as it disintegrated into the darkness.

  A blow across his face sent him flying.

  “Believe what you wishhhhh.” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. “Believe that ridiculous monk. Believe that I cannot harm you. But know, beyond any doubt. That you are mine.”

  Pain ripped through his being as if thousands of hungry mouths bit into his flesh.

  Chapter XVII

  Strong hands gently laid him back onto the soft support of the bed under him. Shivering to regain control of his breathing, the echoes of his scream, real or imagined, still rang through his head. Even the side of his face throbbed and he attempted to bring his hand to the phantom wound before lightening pain stole his breath. He could not seem to stop shaking.

  Eyes adjusting to the gloaming darkness, he could make out the rafters and the thatch above. Disoriented, he turned to look around and to the right found Notus kneeling beside him, his face filled with relief. Swallowing down his dry mouth, he hoarsely whispered, “Where am I?”

  He felt awful, worse than when the bear had attacked him and could not understand the smile filling his Choosers face.

  “Thank the Good God,” whispered Notus, enthusiastically, his hand coming to cup the side of the young man’s face. “We’re in Eira’s home. You’ve been unconscious for three days. Everyone’s worried about you.”

  Three days? But that was not possible, was it? He could not hide his astonishment from Notus. Three days without feeding. Three days of being in the clutches of the white faced demons. The thought made him shiver and he tried to sit but the movement brought renewed pain up and down his arm and he gasped.

  Recognizing the boy’s need to sit up, Notus slipped an arm under the boy’s upper back to provide support while his other hand grasped under the left arm and pulled.

  Released from the warm blankets, his bare back met the cool stone of the wall that served as a headboard. It was then he noticed the linen bandages wrapped from shoulder to elbow, a red-brown stain seeping through the white. At first he could not recall how it could be there and then the memory of that night flooded back, especially the feeding off of the leader of the raiders. Hunger lurched through him and he grimaced. Three days without feeding. He had never gone this long.

  “Here, drink this.” Notus lifted up a wineskin to the boy’s lips.

  Using his good left arm and with Notus’ help he drank the contents of the skin. The blood was still warm, but not hot, and it did not have the vitality of his last feeding. The blood satisfied the need but the hunger still burned underneath. “What is it?” he asked, taking the spout away from his reddened lips.

  “Cow,” replied Notus, taking a swig himself before placing the cap back on and lowering it onto the ground. “How are you feeling?”

  He licked his lips, giving himself a moment. How did he feel? “Like someone sliced me open with a sword.” His vain attempt at humour fell flat at the despair on Notus’ face and realized what was wrong. “It should have healed, shouldn’t it?” Anxiety clutched at him.

  Mutely Notus nodded. “Eira theorizes that it’s because you were cut with iron.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.” His voice rose in panic until Notus shushed him down and pointed to the other side of the roundhouse. In the other bed, Eira and her daughter slept beside the cradle that held two infants. It was where he found Tarian sleeping that made his eyes go round.

  There in the bed with him Tarian slept peacefully, her chestnut hair dark in the subdued lighting caused by the banked hearth fire. Around her neck a white linen bandage was wrapped and he remembered the knife that had cut her as it was held at her throat.

  “There are only two beds,” explained the monk, seeing the boy’s surprise. “Where else could Tarian sleep?”

  It seemed reasonable and he was relieved to see that she was safe. She mumbled in her sleep and turned over to face away from him, pulling the covers with her. With his good hand he managed to save some of them for himself, wrapped up to his waist.

  “My boy,” whispered Notus, “we’re going to wake everyone if we keep this up. I don’t like to take advantage of your weakened situation, but we need to communicate better than this.”

  White brows furrowed in confusion. He found he was getting tired and wanted to sleep, but was afraid. He did not want to fall into the clutches of the demon again.

  “I want you to close your eyes and relax,” said Notus, his voice calm and soothing. “We should have been able to do this from the onset.”

  Pressure centred on his forehead and he felt fingers smoothing out the furrows.

  Just listen. The words filled his mind and his eyes popped open to gawk at the monk. He could not believe what he was hearing, or more to the point – how he was hearing it. I did not want to introduce you to feeding on people this way. But it happened. Feeding off of people can be dangerous and can expose us to the human world if we’re not careful. Fortunately those that witnessed your feeding only saw it as proof to their delusions. There are other things I must teach you, but you must be open to it. Are you willing?

  He nodded, not knowing how to respond to this form of communication.

  Don’t worry about that. We’ll work on it together. For now just think the words and I’ll hear them.

  Hesitantly, he tried. Instead of voicing his concern about his wound, he thought them.

  Notus sighed and stared at the edge of the bed. Eira believes it was the iron of the sword. When it cut you, it burned you. She had to stitch it and is afraid it might never heal right.

  He refused believe what he was learning. But that’s not possible. The words came unbidden to his mind. He had never before reacted this way. He could not count how many times he accidentally nicked or cut himself with his knife or even the arrow tips. Never before had they burned him. The stories Auntie told him always said that the Fay were afraid of iron. Auntie always thought him Fay.

  That’s not all, continued Notus. You came down with a fever from the wound.

  The truth sent him reeling; his good left hand ran through his tangled hair and then settled over his mouth before dropping into his lap. Before he was Chosen he was different and had to be hidden away because Auntie believed him Fay.

  Once he became Chosen he believed at last he was no longer completely unique, a curiosity, and was finally not different to those who were the same. And now – now even among the Chosen he was different.

  Closing his eyes he realized his head was spinning and he felt nauseous. “I need to lie down.”

&nbs
p; With Notus’ help his head met the pillow and the covers were drawn up to his chest. He did notice that his feet stuck out the bottom of the bed.

  The bed is made for shorter people, sent Notus with an apologetic smile.

  “How long before dawn?” he whispered. He wanted to hear his own voice. It made everything more real.

  “Not long,” replied the monk, quietly. “Eira wants you to stay for a while until she’s convinced neither you nor I would place you in a situation that would ruin her good work. We’ll work it out. In the meantime, get your rest and heal. We’ll be leaving for Ynis Witrin as soon as Eira says you can.”

  “I thought you were taking me to Londonium?” He could not keep his eyes open any longer. Sleep pulled at him.

  “Not until you are completely healed. Ynis Witrin will give you the place and time to do so.” Notus’ voice drifted off into the distance.

  A new realization forced his eyes open and caught his breath. “I killed them all, didn’t I?”

  Notus’ resolute nod sent him trembling. Part of him was glad he had done what he could to save Tarian, but the boy Auntie raised was horrified that he could easily have dispatched those vile men. He closed his eyes at the memory of their faces fraught with pain and dying anger as blood exploded out of wounds he rended into them. He never believed he could be the source of such violence and it rocked him to the core.

  A cool hand touched his forehead. Try and sleep, my son. I wish I could tell you that taking a life becomes easier, but it does not, no matter the circumstances. If it did, I would truly worry for your soul.

  He opened his eyes and stared into Notus’ sad face. I don’t want to kill again.

  I’m glad to hear that, my son, smiled Notus, sadly. But sometimes in life we have no choice when it comes to defending those we care about and ourselves. Try and sleep, tomorrow night will be better.

  This time, when the darkness embraced him, it was a normal sleep, filled with normal nightmares.

  He did not know how long he slept. He did not know if it was day or night, or for that matter, which day or night since his strange conversation with Notus. All he knew was that through his exhausted slumber raised voices pulled at him, eroding a peaceful sleep gratefully without dreams.

  He could not make out what was being said. He could not figure out who was talking. Everything was still a fog until his eyes fluttered open. Lying on his uninjured side, he found he was alone in the bed. Even the other bed was empty. The only explanation was that it was daytime and he should still be asleep. He still wanted to be, but the voices kept him from doing so.

  “He’s staying, Huw. He’s injured, he’s in my home and he’s staying.”

  His eyes widened to hear the venom in Eira’s voice and fear fluttered his heart to know that Huw was there in the house with him incapacitated.

  “Do you think I’ll allow such a creature to stay in our village?” ranted Huw, his voice carrying violence restrained. “It’s the one that has brought nothing but evil to our family.”

  Silence filled the space for only a moment before Eira responded her voice low and filled with hatred. “The only one who has brought evil to my family is you.”

  “How dare you!” roared Huw, his voice filling the roundhouse, his feet stomping.

  “Back off, Huw.” The young man was surprised to hear the monk’s weary tone.

  Eira pressed her advantage. “If you hadn’t fled during the battle my father and Rhys would still be alive. If you hadn’t stirred up the villagers, attacked, and killed my Aunt in an attempt to regain your failed honour, I would still have family alive. You are coward and a recreant man. I have never wanted anything to do with you and I will never want anything to do with you. Get out of my home now.”

  The sound of flesh smacking flesh and Eira’s cry rang through the room.

  “Huw!” yelled Notus. The sound of a chair sliding preceded shuffled steps.

  “You’re not the Chief here, not matter what you wish.” Eira’s voice was slightly muffled but still full of force. “This is my home and what I say goes. He will stay. Now don’t make me repeat myself – get out.”

  “This is not over, Eira,” hissed Huw. “I have friends on the Council.” The overt threat pressed the tension in the house.

  “Eira asked you to leave,” said Notus, firmly. Then the air in the room seemed to shift and the monk’s cadence changed as he began to talk slowly and calmly. “Huw, it would be wise of you to leave, go, visit your family – your brothers and sisters – and leave Eira and her family alone.”

  The next sound was the hinges of the door creaking as the door opened letting in a wash of sunlight and then banged closed, returning the home to darkness.

  “I don’t know what you did to Huw, Paul, but thank you,” stated Eira, relieved and tired from the conflict.

  “He won’t bother you any longer,” said Notus, his voice reflecting Eira’s. “And we won’t be a target for any more problems for you and your family.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tonight, the boy and I will be leaving.”

  He gasped at the revelation and realized that he did not want to go. For the first time since Auntie’s death he felt at home and he did not want to give that up.

  “He hasn’t even woken up, Paul,” concern filled her voice.

  “He did last night and we talked,” said Notus, tiredly as he stifled a yawn. “It would be best for everyone concerned.”

  Silence filled the room to give Eira time to accept her friend’s decision. It did not give the young man the same benefit.

  “But his arm—”

  “— is not his leg. He can still walk, Eira. I know you would like him to stay longer, but we can’t. I thank you for your generosity, but it’s clear we have outlived our welcome in your village. Huw is not the only one who feels this way, I’m sure, and I can’t send everyone away.”

  Eira sighed in defeat.

  “Now if you don’t mind, my dear, I really do need to get some sleep. I’ve been up far too long as it is.”

  “Y-yes, of course,” said Eira, distractedly. “Please, take my bed. My home is yours for as long as you need.”

  “Thank you, my daughter.”

  The boy watched Notus push the curtain aside and walk to the other bed.

  Go back to sleep, sent the monk, slipping beneath the covers.

  The flutter of fingers gently sweeping his hair from the side of his face lifted him from a dreamless sleep. Confused by the touch, he opened his eyes, blinking in surprise. Tarian sat beside him, her side warm against his naked back and a slight smile on her lips. Unable to roll over to see her without straining his neck, he moved and then eased over carefully trying not to strain his wounded arm.

  “Tarian,” he spoke her name softly. He did not know why she was here. Looking around the room she was the only one in the roundhouse except for Notus’ sleeping supine form in the other bed.

  “Shhh.” She placed a finger across his lips and then replaced them with her own.

  The unexpected kiss was exhilarating but did not answer his question. Gently, with his good arm, he pushed her away. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see you before you left tonight,” she whispered, her smile gone from her lowered green eyes. “Eira told me. She thought I would like to know.”

  He did not know what to say and found that he was glad that Eira had told Tarian. Glancing from her face to her neck, he saw the bandage was gone, only a single thin scab no longer than a finger was evidence to the attack. Reaching up, he cupped the side of her neck, feeling the captivating pulse and lightly ran his thumb under the wound. Surprised at his own boldness, he dropped his arm back to his abdomen and realizing his uncovered state, reached to pull up the blankets.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them from hurting you again.” He could not bring his eyes to meet hers.

  He felt her warm touch on his face and looked up. “But you did,” she said earnestly, her dazzli
ng eyes picking up the fire of her chestnut hair. “If it weren’t for you I might be dead. Everyone in the village might be dead if not for you.”

  He had not thought of it that way and then another thought came unbidden to his mind. “Is everyone else alright? Beti? Bronwen?”

  “Yes, everyone is fine.” She rewarded him with a smile. “Only Garth was killed in the skirmish. There were a few injuries, but nothing Eira could not handle. She’s an amazing healer and she’s offered to teach me.”

  A slight smile lifted his lips at her enthusiasm and with the knowledge that the people he had surprisingly come to care about were all right. “Then why are you here?” Curiosity stole the smile away.

  “Because I needed to thank you,” she stated in all seriousness. “Because no one ever has given me so much when I thought everything was gone and because I wanted to be with you without fear of anyone ruining it. You saved me not once, but twice, not because of any responsibility to me, but because you are a good person who chose to do the right thing. But most of all, because you never asked for anything in return.”

  He could not believe what he was hearing and then he could not believe what was happening. Tarian leaned over and kissed him again, her mouth pressing onto his. Opening his mouth he drank her in. When she finally pulled away, her pupils were dilated and he could hear the speeding of her heart. All this drew him, driving a need he never thought he knew before.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked shakily once his breath returned. He did not know where this was leading and was afraid that his hunger would rise up and then he would be the one causing her harm. That was something he desperately did not want to do.

  “Never before has anyone given so selflessly to me,” she smiled sadly. “You are so sad and afraid that it makes my heart ache, but then there is a fierceness within you that is good and true. I see so much loneliness in you and the only thing I want to do is take that away, if only for a moment.”