The Changeling

by Helen Falconer

  ‘I am hanging on! Does it look like I’m doing anything else?’

  She wrenched a long branch from a yew, hooked him by the front of his shell suit and dragged him down towards her until she could get hold of his legs and pull him the rest of the way. She hugged him tight. ‘Oh, Ultan . . .’

  He pushed her away, fumbling with the rope tied around his middle. ‘Don’t squeeze me – this yoke has me cut in two as it is!’

  ‘Here . . .’ As soon as Aoife touched the knot, it came undone and jerked out of her hand, shrinking up into the misty air like elastic contracting. ‘I can’t believe that rope was long enough to get you down.’

  Ultan was sucking in lungfuls of relief, visibly expanding around the waist. ‘I know! Me too! I’m telling you, that’s the last time I ever let myself be seduced by a lenanshee.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Talked me into it! Said he could lower me to the next pool, then he’d dive after us and lower me to the next, but soon as my feet were dangling in the air, down I went like a stone and I was that sure the damn yoke had snapped on me – all I could see was the ground coming up to meet me and— Mother of God, here they come!’

  A wild shrieking signalled the rapid descent of Shay and Caitlin on the rope, Shay with his arms firmly around Caitlin’s waist. As they nearly hit the road and bounced back up again, Aoife could hear the changeling girl screaming: ‘Quit hugging me, ya sick lenanshee! I told you I can fly!’ And the next moment she sprang free of Shay’s arms, double-somersaulted through the air and crashed face-first into the water beside them, fire spurting from her hands like she was a malfunctioning Catherine wheel. The heaving flood extinguished her in a cloud of steam, spun her round, then swept her down the river where, just before disappearing round the far bend, she managed a desperate doggy-paddle to the bank. Climbing out, she pulled off the kitbag, and stood with her back to them, grimly emptying it of water.

  Ultan jogged off towards her, calling, ‘Great lepping, ya mad rabbit!’

  Shay untied himself and dropped – he tried to catch the end of the rope, but it sprang back up into the watery air; he watched with a frown as it shrank from sight. Then he stuck his hands in his pockets and turned his gaze to Aoife, saying, with an uncertain smile, ‘Wahu . . .?’ like he wasn’t certain whether she might do something utterly crazy if he spoke to her – like kissing him then flinging herself off a cliff. Before she could think of what to say or even what manner of neutral expression to adopt (cool? friendly?), he had transferred the same warm smile to Eva. ‘Hello there. What’s your name?’

  Eva had crossed onto the bank from the road and was regarding him from a cautious distance, hands in the pockets of her dirty pink dressing gown. She said in her shrill north Dublin voice, not coming any nearer, ‘I’m Eva O’Connor and I’m from Dublin.’

  ‘Well, it’s nice to meet you, Eva O’Connor. Have you been here long?’

  The little girl drifted closer to Shay. Her distrust of strangers seemed to have melted in his presence. ‘Ages and ages. But she’ – she jerked her chin at Aoife – ‘she says she’s going to take me home.’

  ‘Is she now.’

  ‘Yes, she promised.’

  ‘Then I’m sure she will. She’s pretty reliable.’ He squatted down in front of Eva and brushed his right forefinger across the locket that was now clasped around her neck. ‘I see she lent you her special necklace.’

  ‘It’s not hers, it’s mine.’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  Aoife said, ‘Seriously, it is hers. Her parents gave it to her.’

  ‘Ages and ages ago,’ said the little girl. ‘For my last birthday. When I was four. So as I don’t forget them ever.’ And as if practised in so doing, she flicked open the heart-shaped locket with her finger and thumb and kissed the faces of Maeve and James O’Connor.

  Shay’s hazel eyes caught Aoife’s, astonished. ‘Is she . . .?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Aoife knows my mam. Do you know my mam?’

  He said, still looking at Aoife, ‘Not as well as Aoife does.’

  ‘Aoife’s bringing me home. Are you coming home too?’

  ‘I am, of course . . .’

  ‘To Dublin?’

  ‘No, Kilduff.’

  ‘I don’t know Kilduff.’

  Shay’s eyes switched towards the yew forest, and darkened with shock. He sprang to his feet, snatching up the child while grabbing Aoife’s wrist and yanking her hard against him. He hissed, ‘Don’t run. Keep still.’

  ‘What the . . .?’ She craned to look over her shoulder. ‘Oh . . .’

  The dogs had followed her; they were stealing out from under the shadows of the yews, taking up position in a line on the dusty road, twelve of them, heavy-shouldered and thick-necked as bulls, and all of them smiling their grim, spit-dribbling smiles. Thirty metres away, down the bank, Caitlin and Ultan had their backs turned, oblivious. Eva pressed her face into Shay’s smooth brown neck. She said in her high voice, ‘They’re just stupid dogs. We’re not scared of stupid dogs.’

  He set his cheek briefly to the child’s light blonde hair. ‘Good girl. Now, we’re going for a swim, so hold tight . . .’

  Aoife said, ‘I can sort this.’

  ‘This is not the time for doing something crazy.’

  ‘I’m not crazy.’

  ‘Aoife . . .’

  With one quick twist, she wrenched her wrist out of his grip and ran forward, screaming at the lead dog: ‘Sit! Sit!’

  The beast cocked its elongated, bony head and lowered its haunches to the ground, settling them carefully. Once sitting, it raised its snout and fixed its pale eyes on hers – their whiteness had a rainbow shimmer, like monstrous opals. A high, rustling whimper rose from the dog’s throat – a sickly whine.

  She said, ‘Stay, dog.’

  The dog wrinkled back its dark lips to reveal its clusters of thin yellow teeth, edged in thick white spittle.

  She said, ‘Lie down.’

  He lay down. Another dog, younger and smaller than the rest, flesh puppy-soft, his head only as high as Aoife’s waist, followed suit. She snapped at those still standing: ‘Lie down!’ Each one, as it met her eyes, drew in its tail between its legs and pressed its belly to the ground, laying its drooling head on the dusty road between its mighty paws; massive ribcage rising and falling with its foul panting.

  ‘You’re not scared of dogs, are you?’ the little girl was saying to Shay behind her. ‘Dogs are just stupid.’

  ‘Twelve cooshees, Ultan. Twelve! We’re marching home to Falias with twelve demon dogs! This is way impressive. Who knew it could be so easy? All that time chasing after the cats, and we could’ve just whistled for these thick eejits. You’d think it’d have been in the book! Useless piece of druid crap.’

  ‘Maybe cooshees don’t act so easy around everyone. It’s Aoife they seem to like.’

  ‘That’s just ’cos they met her first. Dogs are all the same. If you show no fear, they know well who’s boss.’

  Clearly unconvinced, Ultan said, ‘Right.’

  The dogs had formed a tight guard around Aoife – heads tossing, tongues lolling, tails in the air like flags. Night was falling, and the low hills of yews rose dark green against the sunset to the west, and the sky above was a deepening turquoise pricked by stars. Shay was striding along on her left, his old silent self. Eva was riding on his back, her skinny arms locked around his neck, legs dangling down to his waist, little feet jogging up and down. Her bedroom slippers were decorated with Sleeping Beauty motifs.

  Caitlin and Ultan were half running, half walking along in front – keen to get to the city, now that they were so close. The changeling girl was still expounding cheerfully on their good luck: ‘We’ll make the zookeeper give us money as well as passes. Sure, twelve cooshees must be worth a fortune.’

  ‘Yay – then on to Falias and spend, spend, spend!’

  Aoife called to them, ‘What sort of things do you do there?’

 
Ultan turned to jog backwards for a moment. ‘Music! Craic! Magic competitions! Ah, we can have great fun all together. What d’you want to do first – eat or go dancing?’

  ‘Eat! I’m starving!’

  ‘Good stuff. The food is mighty – pork, roast potatoes, cheese. No more burned rabbit!’

  Aoife glanced at Shay. ‘I really am starving – maybe we can grab a quick bite to eat while we’re passing through?’

  He glanced at her and shrugged. ‘Sure, while we find out where is this road home.’

  Caitlin jeered over her shoulder, ‘Falias is her home, hey! No one’s going to be giving a changeling permission to leave paradise; not until the war. Link up with your own kind, lenanshee boy – they’ll show you the way to the surface. I know you lot have a famous grá for humans.’

  Shay paused in mid-stride, stared at the changeling girl, then at Aoife.

  Aoife was trembling – shocked, but at the same time pleased for him. ‘That’s so brilliant for you – you can get home whenever you like!’

  He said coolly, falling back into his stride, ‘I told you, I’m not going anywhere without you.’

  ‘But if it turns out I can’t and you can, at least you can tell my parents I’m safe.’

  ‘Could you take a message to mine as well as hers?’ asked Ultan quickly.

  Caitlin scoffed, ‘Give over, the two of ye – cut your human ties. Your aul parents don’t care a damn about you, they’re just delighted to be rid of ye.’

  Eva, who had been nodding off, raised her head suddenly. ‘Are we home yet?’

  Aoife said to Shay, ‘And that’s another reason for you to go. You can take Eva with you.’

  ‘I told you, I’m not—’

  Caitlin shouted, ‘Hey! He’s not taking that kid anywhere: sheógs belong to the banshees, not the lenanshees! Soon as we get to Falias, you’ve to give her back!’

  Aoife snapped back angrily: ‘I’m not giving her to anyone!’ and the guard of dogs suddenly rushed at the changeling girl, bristling and growling. Aoife ordered hastily, ‘Down. Quiet.’

  Caitlin, who had instantly sprinted for the trees, came back snarling, ‘Just get your stupid beasts under control, all right?’

  ‘Shay’s taking Eva home.’

  ‘Grand so. Whatever you want.’

  Ultan said, ‘That’s the way, Caitlin. Show no fear.’

  The road had turned away from the edge of the river and they were climbing rapidly uphill through the trees. The fallen needles made a soft carpet beneath Aoife’s bare feet. The sun was gone, and the sloping woods were heavy with shadow. In the distance, above the pitch-black trees, the rose-gold sunset seemed to increase in strength as the night behind them darkened.

  The child sat resting her chin on Shay’s black hair, watching the darkening world with her ice-blue eyes. Seeing Aoife gazing at her, she smiled and stretched out her small hand.

  Taking it, Aoife cupped it in her own. And had a weird, chilling moment of recognition. A straight, pink, diagonal line across the palm. She looked at her own hand. A single faint silver line: the scar from that forgotten accident on her first bike. She peered again at the much fresher mark on Eva’s hand. ‘How did you get this, honey?’

  ‘The nurse said if I kept still, she could make me better. The other little girl cried, and her blood came out shiny. The nurse pressed our hands together. It made me better.’

  Aoife placed her palm on Eva’s. The scars would have been the same length, except that her hand was much larger now.

  The child said sadly, ‘The nurse took me away and kept me for ages. Then she said I had to go home and get back the other little girl.’

  ‘I know, honey. I saw you.’

  ‘No, she sent me to the wrong place. It wasn’t Dublin, it was an empty, lonely place, and I couldn’t find the fairy child.’

  Remembering – re-experiencing – that first violent tug on her heart, Aoife said, ‘You did find her, honey.’

  ‘I didn’t – a big girl came running after me instead. And I was scared and ran away up the hill and I lost Hector.’ She started to cry.

  ‘Hush, hush – that was me, and I found Hector for you.’

  ‘You did?’ The tears dried instantly.

  ‘He’ll be waiting for you, honey, just as soon as we get you home.’

  The child jogged along on Shay’s back for a long minute, then said, ‘After I came back, they said to go this way instead. But then the dogs chased after me and I got lost and I never did find her. Do you think they’ll be cross? Maybe I should go back and look for her.’

  ‘Honey, you found her – she’s me.’

  The little girl looked at Aoife dubiously, then gave her short-cropped head a violent shake. ‘No. You’re a big girl, and she was only little, like me. I think they’ll be cross and take me away in the cart.’

  ‘No one’s going to be cross with you. My friend here is going to take you home.’ Aoife looked at Shay, who said nothing; his eyes were more black than green in the dusk, like the rough coats of the dogs.

  The track had narrowed to a path, barely wide enough for two to walk abreast. The yew trunks twisted, thick strokes of charcoal in the dark emerald light. Up ahead, through the branches, the sky was the same rich fiery crimson.

  Caitlin stopped and said quietly, ‘Ultan, look at that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ssh . . . Keep your voice down. Lights on the river.’

  The water, now far below them, had been a ribbon of blackness, but suddenly there were lights – dull, flickering lights that drifted fast beneath the overhang of trees, alternately hidden and revealed. A unpleasant, nauseous perfume drifted on the breeze.

  Ultan said, ‘Good stuff – it’s people on boats, with lanterns. We must be nearly at Falias.’

  ‘Ssh, I don’t think it’s people, I think it’s them.’

  ‘What . . .?’

  ‘Them.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Book says they travel in groups and smell like day-old puke . . .’

  ‘Ah Jesus!’ He made to run for it, but Caitlin grabbed him by the arm. ‘Stay quiet, don’t move – they’re not stopping, we don’t want to attract their attention.’

  The procession was passing directly below them now and Aoife could hear the faint splash of oars. She whispered, ‘Who’s them?’

  ‘Headless dullahans. It’s all right, they’ll go on by.’ But even as Caitlin said this, the first of the boats slowed and drew in to the shore.

  Ultan took a sharp breath. ‘What are they stopping here for?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Caitlin’s voice was panicky. ‘They can’t want anything with us. We didn’t do nothing wrong – not me anyway. I’m not trying to steal the sheóg.’

  ‘Let’s run—’

  ‘No, they’ll think we’re trying to escape! Just stay still and keep quiet!’

  The rest of the boats were clustering in behind the first, the lights disappearing now, hidden by the trees. The splash of oars had also ceased. The four of them stood silent on the path above, holding their breath, listening and watching.

  One by one, the lights began to reappear – this time not on the river but coming up through the steep woods. Three points of orange light . . . four . . . The smell grew worse. The pack of dogs whimpered and scuffed at the path with their heavy claws, snuffling loudly.

  Aoife hissed, ‘Quiet!’ gripping the nearest two by the scruffs of their necks.

  Ultan whispered shakily, ‘They’re getting closer.’

  ‘If they call the sheóg’s name, I say we dump her and run.’

  ‘I want my mam!’

  Aoife snapped, ‘Stop scaring her, Caitlin! Hush, honey, no one’s going to hurt you . . .’ Eva, weeping, was struggling to get down from Shay’s shoulders. Aoife let go of the dogs to comfort the child – and in an instant, the pack was gone, howling and snarling, hurtling downhill through the ancient yews.

  For a moment they stood shocked into frozen silence, star
ing after the rampaging dogs as they disappeared into the trees. The deep, fierce barking echoed back and forth in the dark woods, ranging from side to side and down towards the river. Yet there were no other answering sounds – no fighting, no shouts, no running of feet; even the orange lights had suddenly gone out. It was as if it were only the beasts themselves running wild in the forest – frightened farm dogs on a windy night chasing imaginary ghosts around the yard.

  Ultan said, relaxing, ‘Nice one. I think they’ve frightened them off – fair play to— Mother of God!’

  The cries of the cooshees had abruptly changed – several of the dogs were not barking now, but screaming. Then yet another changed its tone, then another, from courageous challenge to hideous howls of pain. Eva shrieked shrilly and covered her ears with her hands.

  ‘Quick, let’s go!’ Caitlin took off at full speed up the path, followed by Ultan. ‘Quick, now, while they’re busy ripping them cooshees to bits!’

  Aoife groaned, ‘The poor dogs—’

  ‘Leave them!’

  Shay touched Aoife’s arm. ‘Come on, she’s right – nothing we can do.’

  ‘The poor brave dogs.’ Swallowing her grief, Aoife ran after the others.

  The path climbed and twisted, narrower and rockier. Roots caught her feet. Behind in the woods, the beasts were screaming. Ultan cursed and fell. Aoife sprang over him, and turned to help him up. Shay waited for them, Eva in his arms, her frightened little face buried in his shoulder. ‘Are ye all right?’

  Ultan gasped, hands on knees, ‘Grand. Are they following us?’

  The three of them stood listening for a second – the sounds of ghostly battle were still ebbing and flowing through the woods, but more sporadically and further back. Aoife thought she saw a lantern flare briefly, but only as the faintest orange spark. At the same time, a deep, ferocious barking started up down near the river, before mutating into a high-pitched, almost ethereal scream – a blood-chilling, gut-wrenching death-cry.

  Shay shuddered. ‘Come on.’

  As they ran, Aoife dropped a little behind the others, listening. The canine screams had ceased now; all she could hear was the breathing of Shay and Ultan and the scuffing of their feet as they mounted the hill ahead of her, up through the dark woods towards the crimson sky.