Changeling: Prelude to the Chosen Chronicles

by Karen Dales

  “Sorry is not good enough, boy. You could have killed us both!” She shook her mane of straggly grey hair as she unfastened the leather belt that cinched her dress closed. “I thought I had taught you never, ever to come out into the open. I hoped I would never have to do this, but you must be taught to stay far, far away from strangers.”

  His crimson eyes widened in horror, tears forgotten, as Auntie sat down beside him. Grabbing his wriggling tiny form, she held him firmly face down on her lap and pulled up his kilt, revealing soft white young skin.

  Stinging pain riveted through his body as the leather contacted flesh over and over. Howls escaped unbidden. He could taste tears.

  FLASH!

  Cold darkness forced shivers.

  The rough bark of the tree felt unbearable to his bare flesh and he stood.

  Night had fallen yet he could see everything, even the two figures steadily approaching him. At this distance he could only make out that it was a man and a woman and decided to stay put, waiting for them to come to him.

  Closer they drew until the light of the full moon allowed him to make out the features of Auntie and Geraint. A bright smile formed and quickly fell from his face at the sight of their expressions. Anger and hurt filled their faces as they came to a halt before him. He was much taller than both, but he felt smaller.

  “Why did you let this happen?” cried Auntie. “I told you to stay away from strangers; that they would kill us if they knew of you.”

  “It was because of you, that we were killed,” stated Geraint matter-of-factly. “If you hadn’t been so different I could have taken you and I would still be alive.”

  The boy could not believe what he was hearing. It was then that he noticed the bloody wound seeping from Geraint’s eviscerated abdomen as bruises and burns blossomed on Auntie’s face, her leg and arm turning crookedly. The two spectres stood in death and he tried to back away. The tree halted his escape.

  In unison Auntie and Geraint pointed bloody arms and bellowed, “It is because of you that we are dead!”

  FLASH!

  The void surrounded him.

  He knew this place.

  “Ssssseal the covenant,” ordered the hissing voice.

  “No!”

  His shout rang through his body and pounded between his ears. He did not remember sitting up. Groaning at the remembered dream, he put his sweat soaked head in his hands and wept. The nightmares were back. Goddess help him, they were back. He had hoped they were gone for good, and this time they did not seem to disappear from memory.

  He shivered in the damp cool air, as outside thunderous rain pelted down, not because he was cold, he was not, but because of the images from his dream that flashed in his conscious mind.

  It was not the sound of the rain that pulled Notus out of his deep slumber. He always enjoyed the sound of water droplets striking leaf and ground. It always soothed him, giving him a cozy, comfortable feeling. He figured that it had something to do with when he was a child, but that was so long ago that that part of his life seemed more myth than reality.

  No. Something else tugged him.

  Sitting up, letting the hides that served as his blanket roll down onto his lap, Notus rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. The sound came again. He had not heard it in a dream. It came from the other pallet. He could not mistake the sounds of the lad in the grips of a nightmare. Notus tested the connection between them and found it solid enough to traverse. Maybe, with the boy being asleep it would be easier to make the connection to read each other’s thoughts, to find out what was going on with the lad. Notus did not like the idea to take advantage of the situation, but he did not think he would have a better chance.

  Carefully, gently so as not to be detected, Notus followed the linkage. This time he was rewarded with a very slight opening. Taking a deep breath, Notus prepared himself to manoeuvre through this crack, but before he could enter he was snapped back through the link as the boy sat up and cried out. Notus’ tearing eyes widened at the impact and he rubbed the centre of his forehead. In all his life as a Chosen he never had a headache. Now he did.

  Serves me right. Notus pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger.

  A sound not caused by the rain, drew his attention back to the lad. In the darkness illuminated only by the glowing coals of their small fire, he could see the boy hunched over, head in his hands, and shoulders occasionally shuddering. Something was wrong. Notus doubted that he was the cause, but centuries of pastoral care dictated that he should provide comfort. Climbing out of his bedclothes, Notus walked over the few steps and knelt down beside the young man.

  The boy did not notice his approach and started at Notus’ gentle touch to his shoulder. In those blood coloured eyes, Notus witnessed a deep soul cutting sadness that took his own breath away. It took a moment for the lad to register the memory of the monk, before staring back into his lap.

  Notus did not need the link to know what the boy was feeling and did not object when the boy pulled away as he stood. Notus wanted to ask what was wrong so as to help him, but instead asked, “Are you alright?” He did not want to press with too much of a personal question at this point.

  The boy, hugging himself, turned and walked to the front of the cave, watching the pouring rain in the deep twilight of sunset.

  “I killed them.” The boy’s whisper broke the strained silence.

  This was not the answer Notus expected. He quickly rose to his feet and went to stand next to the boy, but not so close as to invade the lad’s space. “Pardon?”

  “I killed them,” repeated the boy, his cracking voice barely audible over the sizzling rain.

  “What are you talking about?” demanded Notus, aghast at the confession. Was this the reason why the boy was forced to live in solitude in this cave? Could it be that was why the boy had been so terrified of him at first? That he would take him to the authorities to suffer the consequences of his actions? Had Notus turned a killer into one of the Chosen?

  Sure there were some Chosen who relished killing in their quest to satiate their hunger, but if they did it in a way to draw attention to their kind then he would be summarily dispatched. Notus chose not to associate with that kind. Only those of pure heart and ideals would be Chosen, or at least that was what he had been taught. Things were changing among the Chosen, but Notus was a consummate traditionalist. To have broken his Oath on a killer would be even worse than being judged and rejected by God when, or if, he finally died.

  The lad took a deep shuddering breath and sniffed. “If it wasn’t for me Auntie and Geraint would still be alive.”

  Notus did not know who these people were, and the boy’s confession made it all the more confusing, but he could not mistake the anguish in the boy’s eyes. Something told him that this was not the visage of a killer but he needed to be sure.

  Clearing his voice, Notus asked, “How did they die?”

  The silence grew between them once again. Notus stood patiently watching as the lad, still hugging himself, squinting up into the early night sky hidden by heavily laden clouds.

  At last the boy spoke. “Geraint was killed in battle. Auntie was killed because they believed she consorted with a devil.”

  The boy was not a killer, but he had taken the guilt of one.

  Notus grabbed the lad’s arm and turned him. “Then why do you say that you killed them?”

  Disconcertedly, the boy’s crimson eyes landed on Notus’ bewildered expression, his long white hair falling to brush against and hide his forearms.

  “Because.” It was obvious the lad was having a hard time catching his breath. “Because if I had not been different, Geraint could have taken me and…and—” Crimson eyes closed and his white face screwed up in guilt.

  So this was it? Notus nodded to himself. “Listen to me, my son.” He stared into the boy’s now open eyes. “People die in war. Soldiers die in battle. To play these what if games do you and this Geraint no good. You obviously hold
a great love for this man.” The boy nodded as he stifled a sob. “Would you think he would hold you responsible when it was his choice – his duty – to go into battle? Would you not think that he would be happy that you were far away from such things and thereby live a fruitful life?”

  Notus watched the boy’s mouth open and then close a couple of times, searching for a retort. Not able to find one, the boy turned his head to gaze out of the cave. The rain was lessening its impact on the grass and trees. Notus could see the perplexed expression. It seemed that no one had ever brought this point to bear. He could almost see his words working on the boy’s thinking.

  “But it is because of me that Auntie is dead.”

  The boy’s angry response through gritted teeth made Notus’ eyes widen and before he could think, he blurted, “Now how could that possibly be?”

  The bloody red glare sent a foreboding of dread through Notus’ being. It was plain that the lad was angry, not at Notus, but at himself.

  “I wasn’t supposed to be seen.” Notus could not be unaware of the sadness tingeing the boy’s self loathing. “Ever.” The monk’s eyes widened at what was being revealed. “I was supposed to be kept hidden. She made it clear. If I was ever seen, they would kill us both.”

  Here the boy’s voice faltered and he had to take a few steady breaths before he could continue. “I was seen once when I was a child. We were lucky that time, but I was punished. The second time…” The boy closed his eyes, his face betraying the pain of recollection. “I was hiding. But they found me.”

  His watery eyes opened. The faint glimmer of the fire made his eyes dance like flames. “I was lucky to survive – just barely. The last time I had warning. I was told that I had been seen in the woods at night. They thought I was something else. I thought I was safe. I was wrong. They came on horseback and on foot, while I was hunting, and they killed her.

  “They had come because of me. They said so when I arrived. They burnt my home. They killed Auntie. They would have killed me, but I ran away. She had always told me that if I were seen we would be killed. Oh Don, she was right!” The boy closed his eyes, releasing a flood of tears, before turning back to stare out of the cave once more, his slender body trembling.

  Notus rapidly blinked and closed his mouth. He had not realized his jaw had dropped. What could he say? There were no words of comfort ready to burst forth. No smart remark to help assuage the boy’s guilt. Resolutely, he turned back to his pallet and sat down.

  The slight cool breeze wafted into the cave, bringing with it the moisture from the easing rain. It went unnoticed by the boy, tears trickling down his face as he stood staring into nothingness. Beyond the cave, the night was shrouded in grey mist, the trees and bushes stood as silhouettes even to his changed eyes. A tear collected on his chin and dripped onto his folded arms.

  Saying the words he had held buried within him for so long wrenched the wound, he thought was closed over, open. He could accept and partially understand Notus’ argument about Geraint’s death. He knew Geraint had loved him and knew that he would not be coming back from the battle, but it was his fault Auntie was killed and there was nothing Notus could say to change that. He had not even tried.

  The boy felt the man’s eyes on his back. He did not know why he had told Notus what he did. Maybe it was because of the nightmare. Maybe it was because finally he was not alone. Whatever the reason, the boy knew that he had radically altered this man’s perception of him. He could feel it as solidly as the stare. He would not blame Notus if he wanted to pack up and leave. If the situation were reversed, the boy would probably do just that.

  The pain in the centre of his forehead briefly blossomed and then was gone. He was not one to have headaches, but he was getting them now. Maybe Notus was wrong about him being one of the Chosen. That would make Notus leave for certain. After all he was there only because he was accidentally Chosen. Even that may not be enough to keep the monk around.

  A dull pain grabbed him in the gut and he hugged himself harder, recognizing the hunger, before it faded away.

  He wished he could be with Auntie and Geraint, but that was no longer possible. They did not want him with them. That thought brought new tears down his cheeks and now Notus would undoubtedly leave and he would be alone again, so desperately alone.

  A hand gently lowered on his arm and he turned his head to gaze down on the monk. There was worry and concern in those gentle brown eyes. “It has stopped raining, my son, and the sun is down. It is time for us to find some nourishment.”

  “You’re – you’re not leaving?” stammered the boy.

  “No. Not without you.” Notus shook his head, his salt and pepper hair glistening with moisture from the air.

  He could not believe what he was hearing, and found he could not catch his breath.

  “You and I are not too different,” explained the man, quietly. “It is not easy to live among humanity and not to be part of it. For hundreds of years I have had to conceal my true nature, as have those of our kind.”

  This man had been alive for more years than he could count.

  “To be caught has, and I imagine, will, cause the death of others of our kind. Mortal man fears us because they do not know us. You, unfortunately or maybe fortunately, have learned lessons that only the strong ones who survive learn. It may be that God has placed us in each other’s path to help one another.

  “I will not leave you, unless you want me to leave.”

  The boy found himself shaking his head. No, he did not want this man, who so readily accepted him, to leave. The realization astounded him.

  “Then in that case, if you wish, I will teach you what I can.” Notus patted his arm before lowering it. “And when it is time I can show you more about this amazing world that is beyond this little cave.”

  A smile lifted the man’s mouth and set a glimmer in his eyes as he continued. “I can teach you how to read, how to write and I can teach you numbers. Would you like that?”

  “What are they?” Curiosity piqued the boy’s interest.

  Notus smiled and nodded. “I will show you. But first we have to feed.”

  He followed his Chooser into the night mist. For the first time he had a sense of hope. Auntie had always said that the Goddess always provided for Her children and that if one path shut She would create a new one. It was highly possible that Father Paul Notus was sent.

  “How’s your hand, my son?” Notus continued along the muddy path, his sandaled feet squishing in the mire.

  The boy inspected his hand. There was no trace of the burn. His skin was flawlessly white and soft as he his fingers caressed the back of his hand. “It’s fine,” he said, astonished.

  Chuckles drifted in the mist to his ears and he hustled to catch up to walk beside the monk. “See, I told you it would be well upon waking,” Notus beamed.

  Yes. Yes he had, and a hint of smile tugged at a corner of the boy’s mouth.

  They walked in silence without their preternatural speed, the darkness dancing with sparkles of floating light.

  The silence between the two of them had drawn out, giving the boy time to come to terms with the changes in his life. He was not at all sure if he would be comfortable with everything, but he finally found the courage to ask, “How did you become Chosen?”

  Notus halted for a brief moment, surprising the boy before he too came to a stop a few paces ahead. “That’s a very personal question.”

  Abashed, the boy hung his head. “Sorry.”

  “No, do not apologize, my lad.” Notus came to stand beside him and patted him on the arm once again. “It is usually considered indecorous to ask that to one of the Chosen as each person’s story is very personal. In many instances it is tantamount to asking a couple what they do behind closed doors.”

  “What does a couple do behind closed doors?” asked the boy in all seriousness. He was rewarded with an incredulous stare and thought maybe that definitely was not the right question to ask.


  The boy took two large steps and fell in beside Notus as they continued their journey to somewhere. He found that he quite easily trusted this man. It felt natural to do so.

  Notus glanced up at the sky, not to look and see if the clouds were parting, but to find the distant threads of his memory. “I was younger than you are now, having recently passed my fourteenth autumn, when my father left Ynis Witrin to go to Mona. He took me with him on that long trek through the land. He would do this every seven years because he wore the mark and that time was to be my first.

  “I was naturally curious about this place where my father had learned the old ways and became a Bard. I remembered the stories he used to tell me and my brothers and sisters. Out of the twelve of us, he chose me to go. I guess it was because I was the eldest.

  “When we arrived it was during the festival of Cofleu. Bonfires glowed upon the hills. It was the first night of my life in the training of the Way of the Oak. I spent the next twenty-five years or so on the Holy Isle before the Romans came and destroyed what we had.

  “It was a joyous time for me. I learned the lore of our people. Some of the others taught me to read and write, but most of the teachings were oral. We served the Old Gods the way they had been served for thousands of years. It was a peaceful life. It was a fulfilling life until the Romans came.

  “Hoards of them crossed the low waters and attacked. I remember I was wounded, but somehow I managed to flee.

  “I was found by Seddewyn the Astrologer. He was the one who Chose me. No one knew that Seddewyn was Chosen. It was only after my transformation that everything he did made sense. I remember him asking me if I wanted to live. I did.

  “I awoke whole the next night. I did not know where we were, but we were far away from Mona, in a cave by the sea. It was Seddewyn who taught me about being one of the Chosen. We were together for many years before he decided that the stars had heralded our parting. I have not seen him since. That was about four hundred years ago, give or take a decade or two.”