Page 4 of Changelings
The boy was seventeen summers now, almost a man. He shared a special bond with Soren, the both of them bound in their secret that Balar pretended not to know. Yet, Soren could hover and harrumph worse than a wizened old grandmother.
It was why Balar had heartily agreed to send Kiri off to the new school.
The half-dragon Briseis had opened it just that summer for the handful of otherly children as well as any human children who wished to attend. A way for the communities to further integrate, it had the full support of Lady Aislinn and the Brádaigh clan, a wealthy yeoman family who’d hosted the otherlies for a time on their estate.
Soren had dourly agreed that it would benefit Kiri’s education, help him acclimate.
Balar merely nodded. Of them all, Kiri had taken to their new home the quickest. He was first to master the human tongue, first to make friends. The only one who’d yet to acclimate was Soren.
Balar could only hope that with Kiri now off on his own new adventures, with younglings nearer his own age, Soren would beleft with little choice but to find something else to do.
Perhaps Balar could make him vice-mayor. He didn’t know what a vice-mayor would do, but he could certainly findsomething.
Balar smiled as Bettie passed him a fresh tankard, the foam spilling over the sides. The buxom barmaid tossed him another one of those smiles, and Balar’s thoughts turned away from his gloomy brother. He’d return to the problem of Soren tomorrow.
For now, “Tonight we celebrate,” he said, clapping Soren’s shoulder and shoving the ale into his brother’s hands.
Although Soren’s back was straighter and stiffer than a spear shaft, Balar pushed hisseskaalong beside him, drawing him into the revelry.
Tonight was for celebrations, for new beginnings.
Balar stumbled, catching wet leaves and other detritus with his claws. He laughed to himself, feeling how the leaves slipped between his toes. Like horrid little worms.
The joke wasn’t funny, not really, but he couldn’t help laughing.
At the way the world spun around him.
How his body steamed in the cold night air.
The forest had doubled in size tonight, the trees doubling and tripling as he staggered between them.
He’d thought he was following the path back to the otherly village.
But he didn’t recognize the path he followed now.
The stars swirled above him as his head sloshed from side to side.
Kud, perhaps that last tankard had been a mistake.
What was he doing on the path again?
He could have sworn he meant to meet Bettie out back.Hadn’t he promised to do just that as he licked her neck and she pressed those glorious breasts into his arm?
He stopped to take a good look around. This wasnotthe back of the pub.
Pulling in a great lungful of night air, Balar couldn’t scent Bettie anywhere.
Histurukstirred as the cold air burned him from the inside out.
Why hadn’t he just left with Soren and Kiri?Kud, he should’ve. He wasmayor. Mayors probably didn’t get blind drunk. At least not good ones.
His thoughts came sluggish, too thick to consider more than one at a time. All he could do was put one foot in front of the other.
Histurukseemed to know where it was going, a rumbling purr vibrating in his chest.
“Lead on!” he declared, throwing out his arm.
Too much. The move sent him sailing to the left, off the path. Balar landed face down in the damp earth with a mouth full of leaves.
