The Changeling

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “Stay where you are,” Owen said, feeling for a small rock. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The man smiled. “You would if you had to, for you are a fierce warrior, committed to the King. But I have come to help.”

  Snarls from outside snapped their heads around. A panther prowled at the entrance, its teeth gleaming.

  The man raised a hand, and an opening appeared in the cave wall. “Hurry,” he said.

  Owen had only one choice.

  The supernatural exit closed behind him, and Owen found himself in chocolate darkness. He heard the panther through the wall and knew that if he had stayed in that cave, all he would have had to defend himself was the rock in his hand, and he would surely have been eaten.

  “Are you here?” Owen said.

  “Yes, I’m sorry,” the man said, opening his hand to produce a bit of light. The chamber had just enough room for both of them.

  “If you’re the Changeling, I’ll fight you to my death!” Owen said.

  The man laughed. “I am not.”

  Owen wasn’t convinced and was prepared to fire the rock between the man’s eyes from point-blank range. “How did you know about this exit?”

  “I didn’t. I created it for your safety when the panther appeared.”

  Owen shook his head. “How?”

  The man moved toward Owen, hands out, the glow increasing.

  Owen raised the stone. “Stay where you are.”

  The man stopped. “I understand your reserve. The Changeling tricked you, and now your friends have been taken.”

  How could the man know this if he wasn’t the Changeling? “Where have they been taken?”

  “Moving toward the Castle on the Moor when last I saw them. The Dragon’s forces were marshaled to intercept you.”

  “How do you know all these things?”

  “I am Nicodemus, messenger of the King. I have known you for some time. Even in the Highlands.”

  “Known me?”

  “It was my job to follow you, make sure you were safe, ensure you would survive. I knew you were a Wormling before you did.”

  Owen lowered the rock. “You were the arm in the night that kept me from falling.”

  “And I was in the school when you were attacked.”

  “What about here? I’ve cried out for help a thousand times.”

  “I was there when you faced Dreadwart, with you on the islands of Mirantha, in the Badlands, and at the White Mountain—”

  “I was nearly killed by the iskek. Why didn’t you help?”

  “Believe me, I wanted to, but I was not allowed. I shudder to think what might have happened had it not been for your Watcher.”

  “Why would the King not allow you to help?”

  “Mine is not to understand but to obey, the same as you.” Nicodemus sat and Owen joined him. “Perhaps it was so you could grow, Wormling. Though you have not yet completed your mission, you stood up to the Dragon, injured him. He sees you as the primary threat to his plans.”

  “He’s afraid of me?”

  “He fears the King and those who follow him. And he fears the Son. You are the key, and he wants you dead. But you aren’t, are you? In fact, you are close to reaching your goal.”

  “How can you say that?” Owen said. “I’ve lost everything I was given.”

  Nicodemus leaned close. “The King himself told me to wait until you had lost the book, the missing scroll, Mucker, your sword, and your friends. Only then could I intervene.”

  “The King knew all this was going to happen?”

  “He knows everything. The beginning and the end. Even the Dragon’s next move. He sent me to your father long ago.”

  “What? You spoke with my father?”

  “Yes. And he was just as frightened as you when I spoke.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  The being smiled. “I cannot tell you now. But the words were from the King himself. You see, Wormling, it is up to us to follow and obey him. If we do, we can be on only the winning side.”

  “Are you an angel?”

  The man shook his head. “I have powers you might think angelic, but everything I do is subject to the King’s approval.”

  “Where is the Son?” Owen said. “I’m desperate to know.”

  “Even if I knew, I could not tell you, as the King has forbidden it.”

  “But the Son is alive?”

  Nicodemus cocked his head, as if surprised at the question. “Of course. The King wants you to find him. That is your mission.”

  “What about my father? my mother? Can you tell me the truth about them?”

  Nicodemus frowned. “I regret that I cannot.”

  “Because you don’t know?”

  “Because I cannot.”

  “What good are you if you can’t answer my questions?”

  “Instead of lamenting what I cannot divulge, focus on what I can.”

  “Such as?”

  “The meeting you discovered between the Dragon and the king of the west will take place. Soon. The Dragon is on his way.”

  “What else?”

  “You must go back to your world, for the darkness encroaches it just as it does here.”

  “But how can I if I’ve lost Mucker? And isn’t finding the Son my priority?”

  “Yes. And discovering him will be next.”

  “In this world?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is my mother alive?”

  Nicodemus stared at the ground, and when he lifted his head, he had a smile. “She is.”

  Owen’s heart leaped. “In this world or the other?”

  “That I cannot say. But she is eager to see you.”

  Owen drank in the news. “And what about my father?”

  “Eager to see you as well. But that is all I am at liberty to say. You must not tempt me to go against the King’s wishes.”

  “How do I know you’re not just another trick of the enemy to send me off course?”

  “Can a house be divided against itself? Would I use the Dragon’s trickery to tell you how to defeat him? Courage, Owen. You have been given a great task, greater than you yet imagine.”

  RHM, the Dragon’s trusted aide, met the old beast at their appointed place not far from the Castle on the Moor. The Dragon seemed preoccupied with a spot on his leg. He couldn’t stop scratching.

  “What news from the Highlands?”

  “Quite good, sire,” RHM said. “I have personally seen the urchin you spoke of and have confirmed her whereabouts.”

  “Still imprisoned, as it were?”

  “Yes. No one would believe she is royalty. I doubt even her father would recognize her. Is the meeting with him still scheduled?”

  “Yes, the preparations have been made. Have you heard from the Changeling or the raiding party?”

  “More good news, sire. The Watcher and the horse have been abducted.”

  The Dragon sat up. “And the Wormling?”

  RHM cleared his throat. “Still being hunted, sire. Our sources believe the Changeling has the sword, the Mucker, and a scroll, but—”

  “But not the Wormling?” the Dragon thundered, again scratching at his leg.

  “He is defenseless, Great One, without a weapon. With no access to a Watcher, he is susceptible to demon flyers. He has no magic weapon and no instruction from his powerless leader—”

  “Who is dead!”

  “Yes, you have nothing to fear from this one. If the Changeling does not bring him to you, we will find the Wormling and crush him.”

  The Dragon looked away, scratching, clearing his throat (which caused black smoke to escape from his lips), and grinning. “If the Changeling does not bring him, we’ll crush them both.”

  When the screams of the panther subsided, Nicodemus disappeared for what seemed like hours, then returned to say they could leave. A door again appeared in the rock, and Owen was amazed at Nicodemus’s power.

  The sun was up now as the two walked a sand
y path between towering trees. Owen feared they might be seen by invisibles, but Nicodemus assured him that he could see what Owen could not.

  “Like Watcher,” Owen said, missing her and hoping she was all right.

  “You could not have had a more trusted companion,” Nicodemus said, “though she is prone to loquacious speech.”

  “You mean she talks a lot? You sure have a big vocabulary.”

  “The King’s is much more extensive than my own, though I noticed as you read The Book of the King that he kept it in check. He seems to have chosen words that make his meaning clear.”

  The sun shone orange on the rippling water. Nicodemus took a long breath. “Do you smell that, Wormling? Water mixed with earth and plants. A sign of good things to come.”

  “I thought you said the darkness encroaches.”

  “Shadows must fall before the light invades. You know that from The Book of the King.”

  “It’s hard to remember,” Owen said. “It seems so long since I held it.”

  “A fresh wind is blowing; I can feel it.” Nicodemus put a hand on Owen’s shoulder, and Owen felt warmth flood through him. “You will hold the book again, my friend. And the Son will complete it. And everything written in it will come to pass.”

  “With all that the Dragon will surely throw against us, how can you be so sure? He wants me dead. He wants the Son dead. And he says the King is already dead.”

  “He is a liar. The truth is not in him. I believe what the King says, not the way things seem. If we looked only at appearances, you would not have been chosen as the Wormling, would you?”

  “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been.”

  “You would not have been chosen if the King did not believe you would succeed. He would not have given you the power, the book, the sword. Take heart. You will see them all again, along with your friends. While I was gone, I saw Humphrey in a holding pen outside the castle. Watcher was being interrogated.”

  “You got inside? How?”

  “I was given special abilities by the King. Their demon flyers are poor attempts by the Dragon to duplicate what the King did with me.”

  “Do you have access to the Dragon’s realm?” Owen said as they neared the water.

  “Yes, but I have been charged with watching you.”

  “Could you find out where the book is?”

  “I could, but again, I have not been given that option. I’m to stay with you.”

  “But if you’re not allowed to protect me, why would you stay?”

  “There will come a time when you will need me. I cannot go against the King’s orders.”

  “What good does it do if I find the book and my friends and defeat the Dragon, but the Son is dead?”

  “Why think that? I’ve already told you—”

  “I’ve seen bodies,” Owen said. “On the battlefield, through my travels. Many have died.”

  Nicodemus focused on Owen, his eyes like fire. “Where did you see bodies?”

  Nicodemus felt a pang of concern. He trusted the King completely and believed what he had been told, but the King had never actually said the Son was alive. He knelt beside the Wormling, his eyes burrowing deep into the lad’s soul. “Tell me about the bodies you saw.”

  The Wormling told him of many they had buried. “People were also killed in the flood and in the battle with the vaxors. And there was a body at the top of White Mountain—the father of a young man I found inside.”

  Nicodemus stroked his beard. “Did any stand out to you as possibly the Son?”

  “Qwamay was the best candidate, but he turned out to be Mordecai’s son.”

  Nicodemus calmed the boy with his voice. “What do we know about the Son from those passages in The Book of the King?”

  “He will be filled with virtue. He will vanquish the Dragon, so he must be a warrior. But he will also bring peace, so he is not just a warrior. He is a man of the people, because they will honor him. And he was taken and imprisoned.”

  “What about his stature, his physical makeup?”

  “It doesn’t say. Perhaps you could sneak into the Dragon’s lair and find the book. Maybe I’ve missed a clue.”

  Nicodemus shook his head. “We need no more information. We simply need to put together what you have already discovered.”

  “But I’ve looked everywhere for him. I’ve been diligent, followed the King’s instructions. I honestly did the best I could.”

  “I know.” Nicodemus sucked in his lower lip, then turned. “It is time I show you something.”

  He pulled a shining gemstone from beneath his tunic and placed it in the water. An image spread, as if on a liquid crystal display. Nicodemus waved and the display changed. The water blazed orange.

  “This is the fire that covered the land after the Dragon stormed the castle.” Again he waved, and the display showed the Castle of the Pines, where the King used to live. “This is the room where the fire began and Mordecai was injured. There—at that exact moment the Dragon blasted him, and there the child is taken.”

  The Wormling sat as if transfixed.

  “The King and Queen became like peasants as they retreated from the Dragon. Here is the burning of the books and the edict by the Dragon that no one should again read or sing.”

  “Did the King and Queen ever return to the castle?”

  “Yes. Sometime later it became safe, though the Dragon kept watch through his invisibles. While the Dragon thought he had the King under surveillance, he was writing The Book of the King and making his plans.”

  When the Wormling saw the Queen crying and running for her life, he wiped his eyes. “Why didn’t the King stay and fight? Why did he flee when he has such power and authority?”

  “It is not always prudent to use all your force,” Nicodemus said. “You must use it at the right moment. The King fled, knowing that if he stayed, his Son might be killed, and with him the hope of a new generation. Through the Son shall all in the Lowlands, the Highlands, and the realm above be blessed, if they remain loyal to His Majesty.”

  * * *

  Owen marveled at the face of the Son. He had brown hair and a mischievous smile, even as a baby. Owen shuddered when beings shrouded in darkness carried him away.

  “Where did they imprison him?” Owen asked Nicodemus.

  “The vision becomes cloudy at this point. I believe they take him to the Highlands.”

  “Why didn’t the Dragon kill the child?” Owen said. “Wouldn’t that have brought the King to his knees?”

  “It would have meant the sure destruction of the Dragon,” Nicodemus said. “The King would have poured out his wrath on him.”

  “Which is what the Son will do eventually, right?”

  “True. But beings such as the Dragon cannot imagine their own demise. He will do anything for another moment of life, another moment to torture those loyal to the King.”

  Nicodemus waved, and over the water came the scene of a young girl whisked away by the same dark beings. “This is the princess betrothed to the Son even before her birth.”

  The father of the girl appeared in anguish.

  “That’s the king of the west?”

  Nicodemus nodded. “Who still lives in the castle and has his own agreement with the Dragon.”

  “So both the King and the king of the west have agreements with the Dragon?”

  “Correct.”

  “What sort of agreement?”

  The scene shifted, and the Dragon and the king of the west stood over a treaty, the king signing. The Dragon puffed black smoke that clouded the vision.

  “Only the two of them know the details. I believe it concerns the princess, but we can’t be sure.”

  “What can we be sure of?” Owen said.

  “That the union of the Son and the princess will culminate the King’s plan. And what a union it will be! What a celebration!”

  Owen found himself more puzzled than ever, and it must have shown.

  “What concerns you now,
Wormling?”

  “It doesn’t make sense. Why did the King allow any of this? If he knew it would happen, he could have stopped it. The Son should be with him right now, without any involvement from me. And who am I?” Owen stood, raising his voice. “Why was I chosen? It all seems so random.”

  Nicodemus spoke kindly, but Owen heard fierce determination. “What seems is not what is. What appears is merely a shadow of what is to come. Trust what the King has put in your heart, Wormling. One day you will understand. Maybe sooner than you realize.”

  Darkness covered the sun so it shone like blood on the water. Nicodemus looked up, his eyes weary. “The Dragon approaches. I am not permitted to stay with you.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I will obey, though it may seem an inopportune time to go. Those are the King’s wishes.”

  “What am I to do?” Owen said, suddenly feeling the loneliness again. “What of Mucker and my sword?”

  Nicodemus gave final instructions and then vanished.

  In his place lay a long strand of rope, which Owen picked up. “Why would you leave this?”

  A stirring of the water surprised Owen, and he turned around to face the lunge of the most gigantic crocodile he had ever seen.

  Watcher sat, her legs tied, as RHM questioned her. Worse than his threats was his smell. “If you walk in front of me again,” she said, “the contents of my stomach will be on your legs.”

  “Sensitive, are we?” RHM croaked. “Then tell me what I want to know, and you can enjoy a nice meal of greens.”

  “I would not tell you the Wormling’s whereabouts even if I knew. Which I don’t. We were separated early this morning, and I haven’t seen him since.”

  “He’s being helped, isn’t he? That’s what the Changeling said to our scouts.”

  Watcher gritted her teeth. The Changeling. They should have killed him when they had the chance.

  RHM paced before her, and Watcher felt the bile rising again.

  “We now have his sword. We have his precious book of gibberish. We have the missing scroll. We have you and the horse. We even have the tiny worm. Everything but the Wormling himself. Perhaps hearing his beloved friend beg for her life would bring him. Help us, and you won’t have to suffer.”