The Changeling Read online

  “Who are you?” I finally asked. The stranger offered a regal smile, before tipping her head forward in a formal Noge salute only practiced by those of royal blood. Aunt Kessa’s arduous lessons in etiquette left me in no doubt that I was gazing upon a fellow queen. The cloaked woman started to answer, but one of her soldiers spoke instead.

  “I apologize for interrupting, my Queen, but we’re out of time,” the rider she called Shiroane announced to her. The white-haired woman took a step toward me and then enveloped me in a tight embrace. She smelled of mint and moss, and the deepest pine forest. My heart was racing again. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had actually hugged me. The experience was unsettling.

  “I’m M’Tek of the House Tannuk, Queen of Faeland and the Eastern Noge Territory. You, Lore, will call me M’Tek,” she whispered next to my ear before leaning back to meet my gaze. Her hands held my shoulders gently. “We are destined to be the most formidable of allies, and the closest of friends. You need only ask, and my assistance in reclaiming your rightful throne will be given readily,” she assured me. She then released me, turning her back as she approached her horse. “Send a courier through Smugglers Pass into my realm when the time comes. The full might of Faeland is at your command,” she continued, speaking over her shoulder.

  “And what will you require of me in return?” I asked, once she was again astride her big black horse. “Such alliances are made through bargains. What could I possibly have that the Fae Queen wants?”

  “Through your reign everything I’ve striven for my entire life will come to pass. The usurper’s line will be removed from the Vilken throne, and we can have peace, finally. I’m weary of this eternal war, and tired of slaughtering Vilkerlings by the thousands. I want to see you safely sitting your rightful throne, Queen Loredana. This era of violence must, finally, come to an end. By the grace of Deus, I want to live to see Nogeland whole again,” she replied in a wistful tone, while lifting the hood of her cloak forward to conceal her striking hair. Her exotic eyes showed only sincerity as she gazed down at me. “You see, my motives are noble, Lore. When you realize that, I’ll have your trust. For now, I’ll content myself with having gained your curiosity.”

  “Wait!” I demanded, stepping toward her.

  “I can’t. I’ve risked too much already,” she replied. “We’ll meet again, when I can be of real assistance to you.”

  The circle opened to allow her through, and then directly disbanded as her soldiers followed her departure. I was left standing alone under the apple tree, bewildered and slightly tense.

  I ran back toward the lodge with every intention of sharing my strange experience involving the Fae Queen, but when I arrived Uncle Toblin was too angry with me to listen to what he termed, my tall tales. Aunt Kessa also refused to hear a word from me, so concerned was she with preparing me for a visit with some influential relatives of hers, more potential allies.

  So, the most important moment in my life passed without note. I held the memory in my mind though, over the following months, as war was planned, and I was trotted out for exhibition to the many ladies who would groom and polish me, preparing me for my role as their Vilken Queen.

  Meeting M’Tek that day, in the orchard, was a watershed moment in my life. Without her gift, all of my careful preparation would have been for nothing. It’s clear to me that without her, I would never have survived to claim my throne. After her intervention, I was no longer the quarry of my uncle. More effectively than any number of guards, or even an entire army, with those strange words, M’Tek had protected me. She had made me invulnerable.

  The first occasion in which I credit her with saving my life occurred not long after our meeting. On that particular morning, I slipped from my room in the lodge, out through the window, to run barefooted amongst the apple trees. In that moment, I thought of the white-haired queen, with her enchanting smile, and strange words. The memory of those nearly colorless, shining eyes sent a thrill of expectation down my spine.

  When I reached the tree where she had captured me, I eased down to the ground and leaned back against the trunk, settling in the cool damp grass. It was fall in eastern Vilkerland, and within a few weeks the dew would form frozen droplets in the grass. Soon the snows would come, but for those waning moments of warmth, I could sit there alone in the orchard, reliving the instant in which I knew I was the true Queen, destined to have allies and companions, not just grasping supporters of my claim.

  As I imagined my future, M’Tek was always with me. She was walking at my side as I approached the throne for the first time, and riding with me into battle against my uncle. Likewise, she was there for the mundane moments of life, helping me dress for balls and sitting beside me during my council meetings. My education was intended as preparation for those demands to be made of me when eventually I sat my throne, and though I could never really picture a council meeting, or a bloody battle, or even a glittery ball, I could easily picture the Fae Queen by my side. Her assumed presence made my future less daunting, and more real.

  I was musing through this childish fantasy about the Fae Queen, and paying no attention to my present situation, or the peril in which I was perpetually living, when I heard the thundering sound of hoof beats echoing through the orchard. Several riders rode through the lane between the orchard and the lodge. I quickly found my feet and took a few steps in flight before M’Tek’s words came to me. “A better question would be, what can kill you,” she had said. I stopped and turned to watch the riders as they approached. They’d not yet spotted me, and would no doubt head for the lodge where Aunt Kessa and Uncle Toblin were still sleeping. The thought of my guardians’ fate, tortured and eventually killed for sheltering me, halted my retreat.

  Instead of fleeing, I began walking calmly toward the soldiers. When I called out to them they changed direction, turning away from the lodge. Once I was certain they were focused on me, I stood and waited in one of the neat lanes between the apple trees. The first rider approached me at a dead run, her arrow aimed at my chest. A stride after she loosed her arrow she was knocked back, as if by a blow, and fell from her horse to the ground. The single arrow embedded in the ground at my feet. A strange scorched smell filled the air around me, reminding me of the charged scent of a lightening storm. I stood my ground and waited for the next soldier’s approach, curious to see what would happen.

  I reached down and caught the arrow in my grip, tightening my fingers around the shaft, realizing I was no longer without a weapon. I rose up as the soldier leveled his sword at me, charging. His sword failed to make contact, but flew from his hands as I raised the arrow up under his arm. It struck deep under his armpit. Dark red blood began leaking down his side, coloring his armor as he continued past. Instinctively, I went for the sword on the ground a few feet from where I stood. I lifted it as the next two soldiers raced toward me in tandem, swords raised. I was knocked to the ground with the force of their blows, though neither actually touched me. They both fell from their horses, landing hard on the ground not far from me. Only one of the two rose. He grasped his helmet in both hands to remove it, before flinging it away, and then approached, bleeding from his nose, mouth and eyes. When he turned his head to search out his companion, I noticed blood trickling from his ear.

  “I’ve no wish to kill you, soldier,” I said softly. “But if you attack me again, you’re likely to die.”

  “You’ll kill me?” he laughed. “A skinny girl who can barely lift a sword will kill me?” he jeered.

  “Please, keep back,” I replied. My voice sounded too young, too fearful. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Look around you, sir. If these soldiers died so easily at my hand, what makes you think you won’t?” I asked sharply. “You can’t kill me, at least not with a sword.” He ran at me with his sword raised, swinging at the precise moment he should have. I raised my cumbersome weapon in a weak attempt to block him, and he fell to the ground as if I’d landed a vicious blow. I could hear him breathing,
with difficulty, those few feet away from me.

  “Stay down,” I whispered to him. “Please. Don’t make me kill you.”

  The fifth and last rider approached at a hesitant pace, his mount halting every second stride as if he were deliberating the prudence of approaching me. As he passed the first soldier on the ground he circled her with his horse, studying her. The fallen soldier was obviously dead, her neck positioned at an impossible angle. The fifth soldier moved on to the second of the fallen. This one also appeared dead, or close to it, bleeding out from the wound under his arm. The third soldier was gurgling softly between gasps, as if he were unable to breathe the air. And the fourth, the one I’d asked to stay down, was struggling to stand again. This forth soldier was horrible to behold, with blood leaking from the orifices of his face, his hair dripping with it. The skin of his face appeared slightly wilted or loose, as if it were sliding from his skull.

  When that fifth soldier reached me, he dismounted and dropped to his knees in front of me. He then lifted his helmet from his head to reveal straight almost black hair. His eyes were lighter than those of the typical Vilkerling, almost yellow, rather than brown or black. His lips were plump and pink, and I guessed him to be less than ten years older than my fourteen years. He unsheathed his sword and held it in gloved hands as he offered it up to me where I stood.

  “Queen Loredana,” he said softly. “Please, forgive me. I’m sent by your uncle to kill you.”

  I stared at him, waiting for him to make some sharp movement or strike at me. He didn’t. He only gazed up at my face, with an expression that might be described as stunned, or captivated.

  “Why do you hesitate?” I asked. “Won’t you obey your King?” My lip curled as I asked him. “Or have you witnessed enough death today?”

  “I’ve no wish to die for a false king,” he said in reply. “We both know that is what he is.”

  I took a deep breath and dropped the sword I still held. Turning my back to the supplicant soldier, I walked over to the bleeding man, as he struggled again to stand.

  “You should see to your companion,” I suggested. “He appears to be dying. If you try, you might save him.” The bleeding man tottered a step, flailing his sword in my direction, but then he fell back down again.

  “He’s dead already. They all are,” the fifth soldier said in reply, dismissively brandishing his sword in a gesture meant to encompass all four of his comrades. “They were not the most skilled soldiers I’ve led, but they died well enough.” As my gaze moved from one to the next, I couldn’t help but notice that two, at least, were still breathing.

  “At least two of them have some dying to do still,” I observed. “You might help them if you try.”

  “I’ve never seen a warrior such as you, my Queen,” he commented, ignoring my observation. “I only marked two blows you dealt. Your other movements were too fast for my eyes. I still don’t comprehend how you killed my archer.” I stared at him in wonder. I’d only dealt two blows, and they weren’t good ones, and yet these soldiers had fallen. “You’ve no reason to trust me, and I wouldn’t blame you if you struck me down,” he added. “Still, I’d like to offer you an alternative that might benefit the both of us.” My gaze shifted from the dead archer back to this fifth soldier. “You must allow me to serve you, my Queen.”

  “But you came here to kill me,” I pointed out, shocked.

  “Yes, I don’t deny that was my aim,” was his reply. “But I’ve no intention of doing your uncle’s bidding now. I only wish to serve you. Please, accept my offer of fealty.”

  “If you wish to serve me, remove these dying soldiers from the orchard,” I replied sharply, feeling bile rising in my gut. I wanted to refuse responsibility for the deaths of the soldiers, but there was no denying I’d been the cause.

  “Of course, my Queen,” he said softly. “But is there nothing else, no other way I might be of use to you?”

  “You could remove my uncle from my throne, if you feel up to it,” I replied under my breath, distracted by the carnage around me.

  The kneeling soldier nodded when my gaze returned to him. Again he offered his sword to me, more insistently this time. Finally, I wrapped my fingers around the hilt of his sword and lifted it from his hands. It seemed accepting his offer of fealty was the only way to get him up from his knees and busy cleaning up that mess.

  “I pledge my fealty to you, the true Queen of Vilkerland,” he said softly. “I’ll serve you faithfully all of my days. When I have proven myself and aided in delivering your throne, I hope you will consider allowing me to serve you more closely. Perhaps I might become a member of your royal guard?” I stared at him, stunned that he could make such a request after leading a party assigned to execute me. “I never raised my sword to you, my Queen, only offered it in supplication,” he pointed out, apparently reading the skepticism in my expression. “You will find me a worthy ally,” he added softly, apparently still bargaining with me. “My people are of the House of Darthrue. I offer the allegiance of one of Vilkerland’s most powerful families.” I swallowed back my shock at the mention of such a hateful name.

  “Stand, soldier,” I said, uncomfortable with his dramatic stance. I turned away from him as I spoke. “There have been nearly two and a half centuries of feud between the House of Castelyne and the House of Darthrue,” I replied. “We are unlikely allies.”

  “Our feud ended when you accepted me into your service, Your Royal Highness,” he replied, obediently standing again and moving off to collect the first of his fallen companions. “You are the true Vilken Queen. This feud between our houses was based on the belief your family were usurpers. I now know, we were wrong.” I watched him as he seized the nearest dead man by the arms and dragged him over to his own horse. He then struggled to lift the dead weight across the flanks of the animal.

  “You doubted the purity of my blood?” I asked.

  “I did. I acknowledge it freely, Your Royal Highness. I was not alone in my skepticism. No one believed Queen Sarane had survived long enough to produce the Demon Prince. We knew him to be a changeling, the bastard son of her king-consort’s mistress. It is said the Demon King had the same black eyes as his mother, not the pale blue eyes of your family.” I nodded. “At home at Darthraine Manor, a portrait of Queen Sarane, the last true Queen, hangs in our great room. After seeing you, I know the truth. Those Fae creatures are correct. You are Queen Sarane reborn, or else her blood daughter, born hundreds of years late. With you, the true line is restored.”

  “I see,” I said softly. His words triggered a memory in M’Tek’s voice. ‘You’re her perfect twin,’ the Fae Queen had said. M’Tek also believed I resembled Queen Sarane. I suddenly felt compelled to see a portrait of this long dead Queen I supposedly resembled.

  The horse of one of the fallen soldiers was standing a few feet from me, breathing heavily and sweating. I walked cautiously toward the animal and gathered his reins, then led him over to the fifth soldier. “You have told me your house, soldier, but not your name,” I stated, holding the reins out to him.

  “That horse is yours by right of battle, my Queen,” he replied. “You unseated his master. You unseated all of their masters. These animals are your rightful spoils. I can’t take them back with me. It would be dishonorable.” I found his concern over honor a bit skewed, considering he and his party had come to slaughter an unarmed girl. The moment wasn’t right for pointing this out.

  “There’s no dishonor,” I said uncomfortably. “I give him to you freely. After all, I don’t need four warhorses. What I need is for these bodies to be gone from Master Toblin’s orchard.”

  “But my Queen, it would be improper. These are your horses,” he insisted.

  “Yes, they are mine, to do with as I please,” I replied. “You will carry these men away on them, or at least on the horses we can catch in the next few minutes. Once they have done their work, I give them to you, to help build my army.” I offered a half-hearted smile. “Truly, I’d r
ather not upset Uncle Toblin this morning. He wouldn’t relish the sight of gore, especially in such proximity to me. And, he usually rises an hour after dawn to walk the orchard. We need to hurry.”

  “Queen Loredana,” he started, as he was accepting the reins of the fallen soldier’s warhorse from my grasp. “My name is Lord Roland.”

  “Very well, Lord Roland, I’ll help you gather your archer,” I replied moving toward the fallen woman. He offered a perfect formal bow before heading me off, easily lifting the dark haired woman across his shoulder. For some unfathomable reason I actually smiled at this man, knowing he had intended upon killing me, as I wandered unarmed in an apple orchard. Puzzled, I moved off to try to catch another horse.

  -CH 2-

  Within a couple of months the first battle to reclaim my throne was fought, and narrowly won, by those loyal to me. I watched that battle from a hilltop not far from the lodge. I fought, quite well, in the subsequent battles. For the following two years, Vilkerland was embroiled in a bloody civil war, as lines divided behind my uncle and me.

  Walking on a cold evening before the start of the most significant battle to date for my throne, I found myself with a rare moment of solitude. I used this unexpected respite to drift through the disquieting realities assailing my peace of mind. We were in position, but the remaining soldiers from all of the houses that had rallied to support my claim were worn-out. Many were injured, and we had fewer weapons, and horses, than we needed. My only consolation came from the mouths of spies, informing me that my uncle fared only slightly better. The backbone of his military had been the House of Darthrue, which had betrayed him, as promised.