“Great.” I followed him through the trees, and we walked until we reached the far edge of the glen.
“Ah.” Robert halted in front of a smallish tree covered with red berries; in the US, we called it mountain ash, but in the UK it was referred to as a rowan tree. Robert plucked a spray of berries and handed them to me. “Rowan berries, these are. Now, bind these wi’ a length o’ red thread, and ye will be safe from all sorts o’ beasties, ye ken?”
I stared at the berries in my hand, for once understanding how Chris felt when I told him something about sprites or elves. “What if they dry out?”
“No matter. The charm will still hold fast.” Robert eyed the hem of my sweater, which just happened to be red. Understanding that the application of thread was a crucial part of the process, I handed him the berries, then I worried a length of yarn free from my sweater’s hem. Once I’d bound the yarn around the stem of the berries, Robert smiled.
“See? Ye have a bit o’ protection now. Once we ha’ returned to the village, we shall ask about purchasing a few amber beads. Amber strung upon red thread is a strong charm against the Good People, indeed.” Even though we were standing in the woods, surrounded by monsters that we had to ignore on peril of death, and the “bit o’ protection” I was holding was nothing more than a bit of glorified trash, I smiled back at him. Maybe there was something to this placebo theory, after all.
“What about running water?” I asked. “Is it true that evil can’t cross it?”
“So they say,” he replied. “But what o’ the evil that might be trapped on the other side, just waitin’ for ye to cross over?”
I shuddered, then came to a realization. “You know what? I’m glad you made me the ointment. As horrible as the monsters can be, I’d rather see things as they are. I’d rather see the truth of the matter.”
Robert shook his head. “That attitude is exactly what got me in this predicament.”
I laughed, since I’d always been a troublemaker. Apparently so was Robert. “Tell me about a few more of these charms.”
***
By the end of the afternoon, my pockets were stuffed full with rowan berries and red thread, iron nails, plastic lighters—I still wasn’t sure about that one, but Robert was confident—and other such wards against fairies. Robert had also advised me to turn my clothing inside out in order to further confound the Good People, but I wasn’t yet ready to sacrifice fashion for safety. I mean, not that I was much of a fashion plate in my hiking boots and chunky sweater, but at least I knew how to properly dress myself.
We had just exited the local bakery when a decidedly new piece of odd happened; we had just purchased a few loaves of bread, which was yet another ward against the Good People. I’d said “who knew” so many times that afternoon, it was rapidly becoming my mantra.
Anyway, Robert and I had just exited the bakery when we saw it in the distance: a fairy, and a rather terrible looking one at that, was eyeing a young girl as if she was a nice juicy pork chop. I looked away, careful to keep the beast in my peripheral vision, but the creep just wasn’t moving on.
“Robert,” I whispered, “what sort of creature is that one?”
Robert glanced over his shoulder, then he turned around to fully face it. Since Robert was already staring at it, I decided to take a good look at the creature as well. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, and wasn’t nearly as large as the other monstrous things I’d seen of late, maybe only three or four feet tall. Its flesh was a pale, putrid pink, and it had black eyes and a few tufts of weed-like hair scattered across its head and back. Its mouth was wide, with its upper teeth protruding outward in the king of overbites. Despite the teeth and nasty skin, the aspect of its appearance that most disturbed me was the battered brown cloth slung about its hips, and the protrusion beneath it.
“Robert,” I hissed, “do they ever hurt children?”
“They hurt anyone they damn well please,” Robert stated, loud enough to get the creature’s attention. “Do no’ fash, lass, this beast will not be hurtin’ anyone today.”
The creature turned toward Robert, and got an eyeful of a tall, muscular man with his feet planted and shoulders squared, staring back at it without the slightest indication of fear. As any sensible person, fey or otherwise, would do when being stared down by a man with murder in his eyes, the creature turned tail and ran. Without a word to me, Robert ran after it.
For a moment, I just stood there in the street, staring as Robert gave chase to the creature. What the hell, I thought as I ran after them. Normally, I would have completely and totally avoided getting involved in any sort of pursuit, but my pocket full of anti-fairy charms had made me a bit extra brave. Not to mention, pretty fricken’ foolish.
A minute of running, then I stopped short; Robert had caught the creature, and was holding it aloft by the scruff of the neck. “Are there more o’ ye?” Robert demanded, shaking the critter for good measure. “Answer me!”
“More…more what?” I panted, leaning on my knees while I caught my breath.
“More children,” Robert ground out. The creature’s face was turning a sickly shade of green, so I touched Robert’s arm.
“Hey. You’re killing it.” Robert turned his wild blue eyes to mine, so I added, “If you kill it, it can’t answer your questions.”
Robert grunted, apparently unpleased by this bit of logic I’d brought up. He dropped the creature, its hide smacking against the cobblestones, its throat making wet, slurping noises as it struggled for breath.
“What did you mean, children?” I demanded.
Robert didn’t take his eyes off of the creature as he replied. “In me time as gallowglass I have uncovered—and eliminated—a fair few of these beasties. They lure human children away from their mums, and replace them with changelings.
“We serve our master,” the creature hissed. Robert hit it with his sword’s hilt, dazing it.
“Changelings?” I repeated. “You mean they’re kidnappers?”
“Aye.” Hard blue eyes regarded me. “That they are.”
“Oh. Well. Kill it!”
“I canna kill it until I know if there are more,” Robert explained, reiterating my earlier argument. “I canna leave the wee bairns to suffer.”
“Suffer?” I repeated. “I thought those switched children were sent to fairy, to play and eat candy. That’s what all the stories say.”
Robert shook his head. “They’re little more than slaves. Most don’t survive the first year after their capture.”
“Oh,” I said, cold dread in the pit of my stomach. We had to find those babies. “Can you follow its trail back to wherever it lives?”
A shake of his head. “No, but I ken a few ways to make it speak.” I must have turned green, or worse, because Robert added, “Ye do no’ need to observe this. Stand away from me, Karina lass.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but my rapidly rising gorge told me that was a bad idea. Trying not to lose what was left of my lunch, I wandered into a nearby restaurant. I ordered two black coffees and three fruit pastries, then I claimed a corner table, and waited.
After an almost unbearably long time, Robert appeared standing over my table. He was smeared with dirt, and something resembling grease was streaked across his chest and arms. I was pretty sure that those dark streaks weren’t really grease, and that I was never, ever going to inquire as to their origin.
“Is everything…” My hands trembled, so I drank some coffee and started over. “Are there more?”
“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate, and his grim face didn’t change.
“Sit.” I gestured to the chair across from me. After a brief hesitation, he did, and I shoved the coffee and two of the pastries toward him.
“What’s all this, then?” he asked.
“When I’m upset, the only things that help are something hot to drink, and something sweet to eat,” I explained. “I’m not like my brother. I don’t think whisky solves all the world’s ills,” I added, wi
th a smile that was more of a grimace.
Robert looked from the coffee to the pastries. “Ye purchased these for me, because ye worried I’d be upset after all o’ that?”
“Well, aren’t you?” I countered.
A slow, sad smile curled his lips. “I suppose I am. But I am used to such occurrences. There was no need for ye to go out o’ your way, love.”
“You brought me cookies and flowers and wine yesterday to cheer me up,” I reminded him. “Consider this me returning the favor.”
Robert’s sad smile got a bit wider. “Aye, that I shall.”
After Robert had taken a few sips of coffee, and demolished the pastries in a few bites, I ventured, “Well? It told you about the kids?”
His eyes went cold again. “Aye, and I ken exactly where the bairns are bein’ held.”
I tossed back the last of my coffee, and stood. “All right. Let’s go get them.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Robert and I stood outside of what looked like an abandoned cottage. It was eerily similar to the cottage my grant providers had rented for me in Crail, if you overlooked the untrimmed garden hedges and the elderly shingles that looked about to give way at any moment. When I mentioned as much to Robert, he only shrugged.
“’T’would no’ be a verra good hiding spot if it stood out,” Robert said. “The Good People, they prefer to go about unseen.”
Yeah, I’d figured that out after he’d slathered an ointment across my eyes that made me see monsters. “Exactly what is good about them?” I asked.
“I have always struggled with that term meself,” Robert murmured, then he grabbed my wrist. “Karina, you do no’ need to enter along wi’ me. I can handle them well enough on me own.”
“But, what about the children?” I asked. “Won’t they be scared?”
“Aye, that they may be.” Robert extended his arm to the side, and his claymore appeared. “Verra well. Ye shall see to the wee ones, while I deal with their captors. Be safe, Karina me lass.”
“And you, Robert lad,” I replied, unsure about the proper platitudes one must utter prior to a battle. I must have done well, since Robert flashed that grin of his. He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles, then he kicked down the front door.
Three creatures burst out of the doorway. I dropped to the ground and covered my head with my hands. Robert engaged two of the creatures, but a third ran past me as if I wasn’t there. Maybe those anti-fairy charms did work.
I watched the creature run across the yard and to a small shed. I had no idea what was in there, maybe weapons or even more beasts. I stood, grabbed a rock the size of a softball, and threw it at the creature. It hit in the center of its back, and he went down hard.
“Good throw,” Robert said, his hand outstretched. As he pulled me upright I saw the other creatures’ bodies lying across the threshold.
“You too. Let’s get inside before more show up.”
The interior of the cottage was anything but what I’d expected. I’d been prepared for chaos, all-out war even, but things inside were calm, almost nursery-like. There were several more of the putrid pink creatures wandering along the walls like ducks in a carnival shooting game, along with a nest of children. And when I say nest, I mean it in the purest sense of the word. In the center of the room there were six children snuggled in a circular wad of blankets, sleeping away as if all was right in their worlds. If only that were the truth.
“They look so peaceful,” I murmured, taking in their innocent faces.
“They will be a fair sight more peaceful once they ha’ been returned to their parents,” Robert growled.
One of the creatures noticed Robert and I, and said something to the rest. “Robert,” I began.
Robert raised his sword and jerked his head toward the children. “I will take care o’ them. See to the bairns.”
I rushed to the side of the nest and set about rousing the sleeping children. One by one they opened their eyes, none seeming any the worse for wear. In a somewhat but not really orderly fashion, I herded them all out of the house and into the garden. All the while, I tried not to look at what Robert was doing, but I kept catching glimpses of him in my peripheral vision.
Robert was like a scourge, his arcing blade flashing silver as he destroyed the monsters that had captured these children.
A short while after I had gotten all the children into the garden, a slightly battered Robert joined us. At least the blood splattered across his chest and arms wasn’t his.
“Are they all gone?” I asked, unwilling to expand upon who ‘they’ were and how they’d gone while in the company of children.
“Aye.” Robert’s gaze swept over the children. “They are all well and hale?”
“They are.” I stood, intending to ask him what we were supposed to do with all of these well and hale kids, when Robert crouched in front of a tiny girl who couldn’t have been more than three years old.
“Tell me,” he crooned, “where is your mum?”
She blushed—I guessed he had that effect on females of all ages—then she leaned forward and whispered in Robert’s ear. A moment later, Robert stood and hoisted her onto his shoulder.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Why, to return the wee lass to her mother,” Robert replied. “Karina, bring along the rest.”
Just as I was about to ask Robert how I was supposed to wrangle all these kids without a rope or a net, the wee ones queued up behind me, each holding the hand of the one behind. With a shrug I accepted this small bit of fortune, and the remaining five children and I followed Robert out into the neighborhood.
Our first stop was at a nondescript apartment building, containing ten or maybe even twenty flats. Robert held the young girl in his arms as he strode toward the entrance, murmuring in her ear the entire time. After a few moments, he brazenly opened the third door to the left. A rather distraught woman opened the door, took the girl from Robert and brought her inside. What the woman failed to notice was the form that exited the door, which resembled a bundle of sticks vaguely in the shape of a child.
“What was that?” I demanded, as I moved to Robert’s side.
“When the true child returns, the changeling is forced to leave,” Robert murmured, gazing upon the mother and child’s reunion with tender eyes. “When the bairn is first taken, an enchantment is laid across it, making it docile and open to suggestion. The enchantment carries o’er to the parent, in most cases, and holds e’en when the bairn is returned to its rightful home. It works out quite well, for mother and bairn alike.” Robert’s eyes were a clear, shining blue, the happiest I’d ever seen him.
“This is what you did while you were a gallowglass,” I said, as certain of that statement as I’d ever been. “Even though you were bound to her, you returned the children she’d ordered taken. You always did the right thing, even though it did nothing to help you.”
Robert’s gaze settled on me, and he smiled. “Aye. Ye have discovered the truth o’ the matter, Karina me lass.”
I watched him for a moment, my preacher-warrior who’d just proven to have the kindest heart of anyone I’d ever met. “Since I know the truth of it, may I help you return the rest?”
Robert glanced behind me at the rest of the children. “Aye, that I can allow.”
Chapter Eighteen
Karina
When Robert and I returned to the cottage, my feet ached and I was happier than I’d been in days, all because we’d returned the children to their homes. As for the changelings… well, I wasn’t really sure what happened to changelings when they got sent back to wherever they had come from. I was just happy that they were gone, and the children with their families where they belonged. My elation deflated a bit when I read the note Chris had left on the kitchen table:
Rina,
I am going to stay with Ethan at St. Andrews for a few days. There are a few conferences he wants me to attend along with him, and, since they begin
early in the morning, it will be easier if I stay over. I have taken the rental, but I’ve left my credit card in case you need transport. Hopefully, the account hasn’t been frozen yet.
Love, Chris
I stared at the note for a moment, half angry with my brother for abandoning me in an as yet unfamiliar Scotland, and with someone he thought was a serial killer, at that; half thrilled at the prospect of honing my newfound fairy seeing talent without his skeptical gaze bearing down upon me. In the end I sighed, and crumpled the note in my palm.
“What is it, lass?” Robert asked. “Bad news?”
“My brother,” I began, “he’s going to be staying at St. Andrews for a few days. It looks like it’s just you and me.”
Robert’s brows shot halfway up his head. I imagined that in his day unmarried women did not share cottages with older men, at least not without a chaperone. “Is he, now?”
“Yeah.” I tossed the note into the hearth, which was rather pointless since there was no fire currently burning in it. I raked a hand through my hair, turned around and faced Robert.
“If you’d like, we can go to the pub for dinner,” I offered. “Tomorrow morning we can rent another car. There’s a natural rock formation I’d like to have a look at, and an abandoned castle that’s sort of nearby. They say a white lady haunts it. The castle, that is, not the formation.”
Robert smiled, the twinkle having returned to his eyes. “A white lady? Any idea o’ who she is?”
“None at all,” I said, returning his smile. “But I’d love to find out.”
***
Since Chris had been good enough to leave me his credit card, Robert and I went to a local Italian restaurant for dinner instead of the pub we’d been frequenting; I hoped that the Ice Princess wouldn’t miss us too much. After the day we’d had, cavorting with wights and returning lost children and banishing changelings and such, we certainly deserved a good dinner. While it wasn’t exactly five-star dining—which was fine, since neither Robert nor I had clothing appropriate for such a place—it was very nice, and the food was excellent. Well, I thought it was excellent; being that there hadn’t been much Italian food prepared in seventeenth century Scotland, Robert had never seen pasta before. And the look on his face when my pizza arrived was priceless.
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