by Robin Trent
Rhys was thankful for the distraction. Maeve unwittingly helped him get closer to the queen's party and also showed him that he did not want to make his presence known to Oonagh. Rhys hung back as he let the party get quite a good distance ahead of him before he started following. He traveled at a steady pace, one that he gauged would keep him at a safe distance. The woods eventually began to thin and he could see beyond the border of the forest.
There, with the property abutting the woods, Rhys spotted the house and registered surprise. What would the queen be doing with humans? Rhys looked around. He wondered if he had made a mistake and back tracked a little. This couldn't be right. The queen's party was no where to be seen. They had to have gone near or into the human dwelling. Rhys found a spot with good coverage on the edge of the woods and sat there staring at the house, waiting.
5
They waited until the moon went behind some clouds. It was easier to do the exchange under cover of darkness. Titwell remembered that the mother had good hearing. They needed to remain invisible and be as quiet as possible. These were the instructions he had given the court guard that was with him. Of course, they were slightly offended to be reminded of the importance of this mission and the need for secrecy, but Titwell didn't care. He was uncomfortable enough as it was stealing the human child. Using changelings had never fooled any mother, but they did it anyway.
They all gathered at the base of the gateway tree and then made their way into the Merkova's side yard. They moved cautious and slow, making sure they were not seen or heard. They were well aware that they could be attacked at any moment by the opposition, which was why they thought better of using magic to enter the house. No need to alert the entire countryside to their presence. With precision and well-honed timing of a group trained to work together, the guard entered the home without incident.
One guard walked up the center of the stairs first to see if any creaks would wake the household. In the middle of the stairs, it happened. There was always one creaky board, no matter how old or new the house was. The guard adjusted his position and moved to the inside beside the wall. It should be more stable next to a solid structure. He nodded down to the others, and they all took note of which step it was. The guard moved up the rest of the stairs without incident, and then the others followed with Titwell bringing up the rear.
Titwell made his way to the front of the guard so he could open the door to the nursery. He pointed to the floor and made motions with his hands to indicate the possibility of slipping. Titwell quietly pushed the door open, and they all entered. The crib and the bassinet were in the same positions as before. Titwell could only assume the children were in the same beds and hadn't been changed around. He approached the crib. The room was a lot darker now that the moon was not shining, but it was easy to make out the light covered bonnet and nightgown of the baby. Titwell leaned into the crib and reached between the bars to pull the blanket back.
This time, the baby was not all smiles. Effie's eyes popped open, and she shook with a start. She stared at Titwell's up-close face and started to wail. "No, no, no," Titwell said under his breath, as if that would quiet the baby. One of the guards became immediately exasperated and moved quickly to sprinkle the screaming babe with a cloud of sleeping dust. "We should have done that right away." Titwell was dismayed. "Oh, no!" He heard it. The sound of the mother's footsteps quickly making for the nursery.
The guard who had dusted the child stepped up to the crib and picked her up. Another guard placed the changeling in the crib. As he was covering the changeling with a blanket, the door to the nursery opened with an audible gasp. "My baby! What are you doing with my baby!" Elizabeth cried out, and she ran into the room. The queen and her guard stood momentarily frozen in place - the woman could see them. The queen raised her hand in the air, and this time they vanished. Elizabeth came up short when everyone in the room disappeared. "What?" Elizabeth could feel the panic rising in her throat. Standing stock-still in the room for a shocked second, she felt movement go past her. "Where..." She raised a trembling hand to her mouth. "Where are you? What have you done?"
Ophelia awoke and began to cry. The changeling made noises too, but to Elizabeth, they didn't sound human. "What is that thing? Where's my baby? Where's my Effie?" Elizabeth was hysterical. She began screaming so loudly no one heard the front door open and close. Helen ran into the room and took her daughter by the shoulders. "Elizabeth, you're sleepwalking. Wake up."
Elizabeth felt terrified. "No. I'm not dreaming. My baby is gone!"
"Lizzie, the babies are right here. Both of them. See?" Helen picked Ophelia up to quiet her fussing and bounced her slightly on her shoulder. She patted the baby's back. "Elizabeth! You must calm down. You're frightening the children."
"No, Mother. You don't understand. Ophelia is fine. There is nothing wrong with her. It's Euphemia! Effie's gone!" Elizabeth pointed frantically at the crib.
"Nonsense, Lizzie." Helen walked across the room, still holding Ophelia. She looked upon the infant in the crib. "Elizabeth, Euphemia is right here. Look."
Elizabeth shook her head back and forth frantically. "No. No, it isn't. It isn't. You don't understand."
"Lizzie, it was just a dream. A nightmare, yes, but a dream nonetheless." Helen placed Ophelia back in her crib. "We need to get you back in bed." She grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulders and guided her hysterical daughter out of the nursery and back to her room.
"Nikki. I need Nikki. Someone has to tell him." Elizabeth couldn't stop crying.
Rebecca appeared at the top of the stairs holding a lit candle as she watched her mistress being escorted back to her room. "Mum? What is happening?"
"Rebecca. You need to send John to town for the doctor. Your mistress has taken ill. She's hallucinating.”
"Yes, right away, mum." Rebecca disappeared back the way she came.
Alone in the room with Ophelia and the changeling, Titwell stood with his head lowered. Unseen by the women, he had not left with the Royal Guard. He was to stay behind and watch over the child. Sorrow and remorse filled his tiny frame as he listened to Elizabeth cry. He hoped the queen knew what she was doing.
Movement caught Rhys' attention. As the queen and her guard emerged from the house, one of the guards handed a bundle to Oonagh. It was small, about the size of a human baby. Oonagh smiled and stroked the side of its face as she cradled the child in her arms. Rhys knew that touch. He knew the baby would feel all kinds of tingles and immediate relaxation. However, the baby didn't respond. Rhys realized the child must be asleep. Sleeping dust? The old tricks of the trade. So, she's stolen a child. But why?
The practice was much more common in the old days. Sidhe would kidnap human children to play with them, or sometimes to keep them. But Oonagh's decree forbade harming humans or going near them. So, what would possess her to break her own edict? This roused Rhys's curiosity and caused more questions than it answered.
Strakx sidled up next to Rhys as the queen, and her guard re-entered the forest. "That was interesting."
"Oh, that is way more than interesting. That is downright peculiar." Rhys grinned.
"What now?" Strakx asked.
"Where's Groz? I think we need to engage his services."
Strakx winced. A phouka in his own right, Strakx was no slouch in the mischief department. But the redcap was not someone Strakx like to have dealings with. Strakx considered him to be downright creepy. "As it happens, Groz is close by. But he works for Maeve, you know."
"True. But all I am going to do is ask Groz to keep watch on the human house for me. He will probably report what he sees back to Maeve as well and I don't really care. I do, however, want to know why Queen Oonagh stole a human child. Whatever for? They're not particularly useful. No, there must be something special about this one. Find Groz and tell him I need him to watch the house, but don't share the reason why. Meet me back at the hill. We have some plotting to do."
Strakx sighed and shook his head as he made his way
west across the woods in search of that most disgusting creature.
The night's excitement had waned and the house was settling back down. Whimpers could still be heard coming from Elizabeth's room. In the crib, the changeling lay still, dried, leaf-brown hands clasped tightly together, listening to the sounds in the house. It lay underneath the covers chuckling to itself. The changeling was an elderly faery that had no love of humans. He agreed to take the baby's place since he could live in comfort and be waited on hand and foot by the humans as they cared for him like they would their actual child.
Covered with a glamour, a human would not be able to see the changeling's true appearance, but would see a healthy and happy Euphemia. Without the glamour, the changeling had a head like a wizened little apple, hair like yellow straw, beady black eyes that sparkled with malice, a mouth full of small, sharp, pointed teeth and long fingers and toes.
A sound began in the nursery, a sound humans would think of as nothing more than a tree branch tapping on a window as the wind blew. The changeling sat up and peered over the edge of the crib, a nasty smile forming on its lips. There in the window was a writhing dark mass that resembled smoke boiling over a kettle. A pair of glowing, yellow eyes appeared in the smoke and blinked. The changeling had been expecting his visitor and climbed over the bars of the crib, lowering himself slowly to the ground. He walked to the window and with each step he grew, until he stood face to face with the shadow and could stare into its eyes. He slowly unlatched the window and opened it, sliding it smoothly up, not making a sound.
The dark cloud poured over the window sill and floated into the room, taking up residence in a dimly lit corner where no one would ever notice, and the changeling shut the window as slowly as it had opened it. The changeling smiled to itself as it walked back over to the crib, growing smaller with each step. By the time it reached the crib, it was the size of a babe again and it climbed up the side like a monkey, swinging itself over the bars to land softly on the mattress. The changeling stared into the dark corner and whispered, "Greetings, Spryth."
The nightmare churned and boiled as it hissed out its own address, "Greetings, Melkree."
"Time to get to work." Melkree smiled as he snuggled back under the covers to wait until morning.
Strakx re-entered the clearing looking for Rhys. He had been trying to catch up to him ever since he finished talking to Groz. The slimy bugger hadn’t been super forthcoming with information, but he got enough to give something to appease his friend.
Rhys Bryhana was sitting near the cairn looking up at the moon, still in wolf form. Sometimes Rhys enjoyed being an animal, just for the pure pleasure of it. The wolf looked away from the moon and settled his gaze on Strakx. As he stared, Strakx became uneasy. There were times when he wasn’t sure that he wasn’t looking at just a wolf and not Rhys. Rhys could be vicious when he wanted to be, and the wolf form was unsettling. Cautiously, Strakx approached, feeling more like prey than messenger.
“You ok there, boss?”
The wolf bared its teeth in a ferocious smile. Strakx felt his adrenaline begin to pump. “Can you change back to yourself? We need to talk.”
Rhys transformed from wolf to fae, stretching out and becoming taller, fuller, until a naked warrior stood before Strakx. Even that was unsettling, but it was far better than the wolf form.
“Well, what did you find out?” Rhys grinned again, the wolf still there in his smile.
“Groz will watch the house for ye. He was already following Titwell for Queen Maeve anyway. Guess he’s been following the brownie for some time now, trying to figure out what he was up to. Which, by the way, is why Maeve is curious. Titwell has been very busy for Queen Oonagh and has done a lot of traveling. Now all of a sudden he’s stopped, and he’s holed up with this Merkova family. The wife at the house gave birth to twins.”
"There's something going on," Rhys said.
"Isn't there always?" Strakx quipped. That drew a glare from Rhys, and Strakx decided maybe it was best not to interject. He sat still and tried to look innocent as he waited for Rhys to continue.
"Queen Oonagh stole a child. We don't steal children anymore, so there has got to be a reason. I want to know why. So, we need to come up with a plan to gather information." Rhys donned his clothes as he continued to talk. "I think we need to hang out around the humans for a while. Maybe get to know them. The question is, how?"
Strakx cleared his throat. "If I may."
Rhys nodded.
"During my discussion with Groz, I found out that the man went away on a trip."
Rhys perked up at this bit of news. “Where did the man go?"
"Egypt, I believe. Alexandria. It will be hot." Strakx failed to keep the disdain out of his voice. He hated the heat. He preferred the cool climate of the English countryside.
Rhys perked up at the mention of Alexandria. "Hmmm. Isn't there a war going on there?"
"Ah, yes. War. Of course." Strakx knew exactly what that meant. Rhys loved war.
Rhys was a warrior, and a bored one at that; a warrior without battles was a warrior without purpose. Strakx knew they were going.
“We can pass through the otherworld and end up in Egypt in no time at all. A war. Imagine that.” Rhys was mostly talking to himself as he began to walk off in the direction of a portal.
Strakx reluctantly followed. “Fine. Then if you are going to go to war, I need to pick up someone on the way. Won’t take but a minute.”
Elizabeth tossed and turned even though she was heavily sedated. The doctor placed his hand on her fevered brow and listened to her incoherent babbling. Dr.William Barrett never professed to understand women or the workings of their minds. He was a gentle and educated sort of man, and his brown hair flecked with grey, a door-knocker beard, and spectacles perched on the end of his nose accentuated that fact. Concern etched his brow as he checked Elizabeth's pulse; it was racing.
He had given her enough sedative to knock out a horse. Even then, it had taken a while to get her to calm down. He'd never heard such ravings. In all his years of practice, Dr. Barrett had seen many things. He knew every woman reacted differently to childbirth and the stresses of new motherhood. But claiming faeries had abducted her child? This seemed more like lunacy than just a case of the nerves. She was fitful but should remain quiet now until morning. He shook his head and quietly left the room. Helen was waiting in the hallway and practically pounced on him as he exited the door. "Doctor, how is she? What's wrong with my Lizzie?"
"She seems to be suffering from hysterics. I've seen it before in women right after childbirth. It's a little late for that, but I suppose it could happen." He saw the tired lines and stress on the woman's face. The worries of motherhood never left, no matter the woman's age. He took Helen's hand in his and patted it paternally.
"Now, Mrs. Barker, I'm sure everything will be all right. There's nothing physically wrong with your daughter. I'm sure it was just a nightmare and she'll snap out of it after she has had some rest. No more stress for Mrs. Merkova. She needs peace and quiet. She's stable, and she should remain unconscious until morning. I will be back tomorrow to check on her progress. Good night, Mrs. Barker and try to get some rest yourself, or I'll soon have you as a patient as well." And with that, the good doctor tipped his hat and left.
Helen sneaked a peek at her sleeping daughter and then made her way to the nursery. She stood in the room and stared at the twins. Both appeared to be in good health. How could her daughter single out Euphemia and think that was not her baby? The doctor was right. It must just be too much stress.
Elizabeth stirred in bed, and Rebecca sat upright in the rocking chair. She didn't feel right leaving her mistress alone when she had such a fright. Helen had already gone to bed, which suited her just fine.
Rebecca was Irish and had grown up in the country, so she was well aware of the folklore of her kin. She had heard stories of faerie abductions, changelings, and possessions. But these days, in a more modern time, the old folklore wa
s treated mostly as superstition, unless you happened to be a member of one of those organizations that were always looking into mystical matters. And they had some really funny notions about the Good Folk. In fact, most people these days believed they were these little creatures, all delicate with gossamer wings and pretty little dresses. Rebecca knew better.
The Faerie were another race. They've been called the Unworthy Dead, the Children of Eve, the Good Folk, the Old Ones, fallen angels, the Hidden Folk, and the Good Neighbors. They were a race of beings that could sidestep into another reality altogether and leave the human world behind, but they were not cute. They were not diminutive. They were not delicate. They most certainly were not harmless.
They could steal your children, ruin the cow's milk, and make the crops wither if you insulted them. Sometimes people crossed over to the faerie realm, on purpose or by accident, and when they returned months or years later, they were much changed. Folklore also teaches that the faeries are jealous of humans because humans are healthier and stronger.
It is said that faerie women find childbirth very difficult, if the pregnancy even lasts until birth, and the faerie babies that survive are often deformed and stunted. Hence the changeling stories. The faerie women would exchange their deformed child for the healthy human child, and then the human mother would end up watching the deformed faerie child grow sick and die.
