“My boy, she has no shadow, and thus little will of her own.”
Roel stopped pacing and turned to Geron. “Why did he choose her?”
“First, she was near the temple ruins, where she made a wish, one overheard by the Changeling Lord. And second, she suited his needs, for he requires someone virginal, someone who has not lain with a man nor an Elf nor any other male.”
Roel threw himself into his chair. “Then he has already defiled her?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not, for lore says not only must she be a virgin; it further declares he cannot force her, for unless she enters his embrace without resistance, the seed will not take. Yet if she resists, in time she will come to his bed, her will sapped, her defiance at last gone.”
“How much time?”
“That, I do not know.”
“Then perhaps I am already too late.” Geron shrugged. “Mayhap.”
Roel slammed a fist onto the table, Geron’s teacup and saucer rattling in response. “Nevertheless,” gritted Roel, “I will free her.”
They sat in silence for a moment, and then Roel said,
“What of the children of these matings?” Geron straightened his cup in its saucer. “The Queen of the Changelings, she woos her humans and they go willingly to her bed. And the children born of their matings are blessed.”
“And the Lord of the Changelings?”
Geron shook his head. “He does not woo, but instead steals shadows, takes something of the soul; hence children of these matings lack full souls of their own.” Roel groaned, “And when these babes are swapped for human children. .?”
“Both factions exchange their newborn offspring for humankind newborns, and they raise the human children to live among them. In the queen’s realm, some become bards and poets and thespians and artisans beyond compare, and others become warriors and they protect the queen’s borders. Some, a few, return to the mortal lands and become folk of renown. For those who stay in the Changeling realm, eventually they take mates, and thus the populace is strengthened for a while. But for some reason I do not understand, at last the vigor wanes, and more humans are required to restore the vitality of the Changelings, and so both the Queen of the Changelings and the Changeling Lord must bring in new blood.”
“I see,” said Roel. “And what of the babes who are raised by the minions of the Changeling Lord?”
“Ah, those,” said Geron. “Even though they are human, hence have the souls they were born with, most are raised to become frightful warriors or other dreadful beings, and those who return to the mortal land live in infamy.”
Roel sighed and then said, “And what of the Changelings who are raised by humans?”
“If it is a blessed child from the queen’s realm, then only good things come to those whose lives they touch, but if a nigh-soulless child from the lord’s realm, then dreadful things befall not only those in that foster household, but all who come in contact with the Changeling.”
“Then, if my sister has mated with the Changeling Lord, the chances of her child turning out good are. .?”
“Lad, you do not want to believe her children will be evil, yet I say unto you they will be.” Again Roel slammed a fist to the table. He sat in brooding silence for a while, but at last he said, “And you are certain that it was in fact the Changeling Lord and not the Elf King who stole my sister away?”
“Yes, Roel, I am certain. Let me tell you what he looked like: he was tall and had black hair and black eyes, and his features somewhat resembled those of a hawk.”
“How dressed?” asked Roel.
“Dark clothing, an ebon cloak limned in scarlet.”
“Limned, or instead lined?”
“Limned only,” said Geron.
Roel sighed. “You have described him exactly as I remember.” Geron nodded. “It is as I say: ’twas the Lord of the Changelings himself.”
“How know you this?” asked Roel.
“I myself saw him long past when we sages banded together to destroy that temple of his, the place where he captured your sister.”
“Those ruins were once a temple to the Lord of the Changelings?”
“Oui,” said Geron, nodding. “A most wicked being, he was and is.”
“Then that is why people avoid those ruins?” asked Roel.
Again Geron nodded, but then shook his head in rue.
“Other than a handful of sages such as me, I suspect no others yet live who know it once was used thus and still holds remnants of power. Hence the ruins are now avoided out of tradition rather than from sure knowledge. It’s unfortunate you didn’t know better than to loiter about such a place. Unfortunate as well your sister made a wish there.”
“Mistake or no, what’s done is done,” said Roel, though regret tinged his words. “What is important now is to retrieve my sister. -My brothers as well.” The sage took a deep breath. “As to your brothers, Roel, I would not hold out hope that they are yet alive, for when I told them what they must do, they would not wait.”
“Wait for what?” asked Roel.
Geron got up from the table and stepped to a chest.
He opened it and took from it a sword in a scabbard and turned to Roel and said, “They would not wait for this.”
“And that is. .?”
“Coeur d’Acier,” said Geron.
“Heart of Steel?”
“Oui,” said Geron. “It is a special weapon, years in the making, for there are powerful runes bound in the blade and covered with silver flashing. It was not finished when your brothers rode through.”
“Were not their own weapons adequate?” asked Roel. “They were forged from good steel as well.”
“Ah, but you see, the Changeling Lord lives in Faery, where steel is forbidden except under special circumstance. After all, one must not affront the Fairies and Elves and other such beings therein; else the transgressor might find himself forever cursed.”
“Did my brothers take their steel within?”
“I do not know,” said Geron. “I advised them to trade their arms and armor for counterparts of good bronze.”
“Trade?”
“Oui. You see, from here, the city of Rulon is on the way to Faery, and for a fee the merchants of Rulon will trade bronze accoutrements for those of steel; travellers can then retrieve their own when they come back from Faery. . assuming they come back within a year. Rulon is just one of several cities of such welcomed trade.
After all, good steel is harder to come by than good bronze, and so the merchants gain rather handsomely in the exchange with those who are fool enough to venture into Faery.”
Roel took a deep breath and slowly shook his head, for his brothers had been gone well beyond the required year. Finally he said, “Tell me what I must do.” Geron nodded, and he handed Coeur d’Acier to Roel. “Bear this blade into Faery with you.”
“Is it not made of steel?”
“Oui, it is; yet recall, I said it was steel bound with runes of power and flashed with silver. This blade will not twist the aethyr; hence it is safe to take into that mystical realm.”
Roel frowned in puzzlement, but then shrugged in acceptance and said, “What else must I do?”
“But for Coeur d’Acier, rid yourself of all iron and steel-as I say, you can trade for arms and armor of bronze. Shoe your horse in bronze as well, and change out the tack-all fittings must be of bronze instead of iron.”
Roel nodded and said, “And then what? How do I find Faery?”
Geron laughed. “Ah, lad, somewhat straight on beyond the city of Rulon you will come to a wall of twilight looming up into the sky. The wall is there whether or no it is day or night, for it is one of the many bounds of Faery. Simply ride through, and you will find yourself in that wondrous but oft perilous place.” Roel nodded and asked, “And
