Outsider, pt 5

"So this is the site?"

"This is the place."

Charlie looked around. The spot Tara indicated didn't seem any different than the rest of the forest, but maybe he just couldn't see it. They had walked up a slope to get here, so it could have some kind of strategic value. With the trees blocking the view all around them it looked nothing like the look-out spot they were ostensibly building, but the way the landscape tended to shift and change under their feet with every step, Charlie couldn't even be sure these trees would stick around. He could only be sure of one thing. This was where Tara said he should build the Hollow, and that's what he would do.

Some hours later, Rita had cleared away most of the trees and thorny bushes, with some help from Cale -- or Mikhail, as Tara called him.

"OK, I think I know which ones we could use. These five trees, see?" Charlie pointed them out to Rita. "I think they're tall enough to reach each other and thick enough to bear the load. What do you think?"

"Me?" Rita looked non-plussed. "Sure, I dunno."

"They would need some support. Is there any way you could strengthen them?" Tara asked.

"Me? I dunno."

"All right. Charlie?"

"I have some ideas," Charlie said. "I don't know if they'll work. We'll just have to try."

They started working, suggesting strategies as they went along. Charlie soon found himself caught up in the creative work, the fluid improvisation, ideas surging back and forth among them like waves against opposing shores, shaping and reshaping in their minds while their physical surroundings were reshaped in response. Hours of gruelling, repetitive tasks were broken up by flashes of inspiration, new ideas to try out.

Then, Charlie couldn't breathe. He was on hands and knees, feeling like his eyes would pop out of his head and his heart would explode. Inexplicably, Turner was by his side first, even though the strange little man kept out of sight for most of the build.

"What happened?" That was Tara's muffled voice coming through a haze of darkness. Charlie wanted to run, get away from some imagined aggressor, but his vision was receding into pinpricks of light. A detached part of him realized he was delirious with fear, but once again it was impossible to stop the torrentuous onset of emotion. He felt someone holding him, and something in his mouth.

As soon as he came to, Tara spoke.

"Did you use your Contract?"

"I... ah, ow." Charlie's right hand was sore. He was sitting up.

"Sorry, you were kind of violent," Mikhail's unmistakable voice said behind him.

"Oh. I... I just, there was a crack in one of the trunks. I think, I panicked and I held my finger to it, and it, er. It was just fixed."

"Sounds like Artifice," Turner remarked, somewhere to his left. "Doesn't explain why he freaked though."

"Your Contract was bound to dredge up memories, sooner or later." Tara sat on her haunches in front of him and gave him her best look of understanding, which seemed uncomfortable on her wooden face. "Just remember, we will be here to take care of you if it happens again, all right? We took an oath."

"Tell that to my hand."

"It is fine. You would have hurt yourself much worse if we had not stopped you. We could not let you do that. The oath forbade us to stand idly by and let you destroy yourself."

"Destroy- You don't mean- I wouldn't do that."

"Maybe not physically."

Several days passed in a flurry of activity interspersed with frozen moments. Mikhail precariously balancing a tree trunk on his back while Tara and Charlie tried to wriggle it into place. The ominous snap of wood echoing like a gunshot when Rita lost her concentration. Going back to the drawing board. Eating strange berries that Turner brought them. Butting heads with Tara over the plans. Charlie became unsure which moment followed which, or if chronological order even meant anything in the Hedge.

After what could have been weeks or months, they were a well-oiled machine. The work came so easily to him that it began to appear to Charlie that the reshaping of the Hedge was no longer a physical task. No sooner would they agree on an idea or a solution to a problem than the Hedge would bend to fit their needs.

Charlie opened his eyes. They were sitting in a circle, on a floor of packed earth. The walls around him seemed to have grown out of the earth. Trees and branches were ensnared above him, some of them conjoined as if having sprung from the same roots.

"What's... going on? Are we done?"

"It certainly looks that way."

"But how? I'm not sure what we did."

"Wow. Man, this is awesome!" Rita started standing up, but Turner's spindly fingers quickly locked around her elbow and pushed her to the ground.

"Everyone be quiet," he murmured. "There's something in here with us."

Outsider, pt 4

"Sit, Charlie, sit!" The king gestured magnanimously towards a chair. Charlie noticed that every time Braggart moved, he aimed to embrace a whole room, take a single step from one city to another, or shrug off the weight of the world. From a certain point of view, maybe to mere mortals, Braggart looked patently ridiculous, but Changelings could see the real force behind those grandiose gestures. Although the king often adopted a gentle fatherly persona and seemed to laugh off most disputes, Charlie wouldn't want to get on his bad side. It was the eyes. They reminded Charlie of a shark's eyes, and it chilled every bone in his body when Braggart smiled.

Braggart smiled. They were in his office at Fishmonger Joe's, a company that according to Tara supplied most of the restaurants in Harmon with fish and seafood. Apparently, the Spring court wasn't the only organization Braggart headed. Charlie sat down next to Tara, and Braggart took his seat behind the desk.

"So, Charlie, how is the court treating you so far? I hear you were quite a hit with the poetry crowd."

"Well... Yeah, that was nice, meeting some people. Also, Rita helped me a bit with my powers - er - contracts."

"Oh? She's a teacher now? That's quite impressive. What did you learn?"

"I have some kind of luck contract?"

"Hearth."

"Yeah, that's what she called it. And I can fix things. Rita said she'd never seen that before."

"I'm not surprised, you're talking about the Artifice contract. That's something the Wizened are particularly proficient in, and you're the only one in Harmon as of yet."

"Wizened?"

"Charlie, you bear all the marks of being one of the Wizened. I'm sure you can figure out how they earned their name?"

He didn't need to be reminded. On the way to the meeting, Charlie had tried to avoid looking into any reflective surface. His weathered and jagged parody of a face looked more like a mask someone had grafted onto his skin. He knew he would probably get used to it in time, but a small part of him was sure that his real face must still be under there somewhere.

"Yeah, I seem to have spent a lot of time in... Arcadia."

"Actually, many Wizened lead a long and fruitful life after their escape. I'm sure you have most of your life ahead of you, Charlie."

"So what are the Wizened? I mean, is it an actual group or a- a race or something?"

"It's more a category. Depending on how we led our lives in Arcadia, and depending on who brought us there, we all adopted different seemings. That's really just another way of saying we all look different. I share certain traits with animals. I'm of the Beast seeming. Tara is one of the Fairest."

Charlie turned to look at her, but when Tara's unwavering gaze pierced his, he had to turn away. He settled on her shoes again. He was almost certain now that no matter what clothes she was wearing, she always wore the same soft pair of shoes. He'd only noticed today because they clashed rather severely with her police uniform.

"So, Charlie, we have a project for you," the king announced. "People have been disappearing at a disquieting rate in the Hedge. We need to know how and preferably why, and to learn that we need a base of operations there. We need you to build that base."

"Like a house? That's- I've never been involved in anything like that. I don't know anything about construction."

"I'm sure you can manage. If there's anything you need to know, there's always the library."

"They use the internet for that now," Tara interjected.

"Of course, how silly of me, ha ha." Braggart laughed, but then his face turned abruptly serious. "Charlie. I realize all of this is new to you, and you're probably confused. You might not trust us, and that's fine, that's what pledges and oaths are for. But you know I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't a serious situation, you understand that, right? Our friends are disappearing, they may even be dead by now." He glanced at Tara, then looked back into Charlie's eyes. "Do you think you can help us?"

"Does it- The house has to be in the Hedge?"

"Yes, this sort of thing is usually called a Hollow, a sort of sanctuary for Changelings in the Hedge."

Charlie sighed. "Er... I suppose I could try. It shouldn't be impossible. Plenty of people build houses without any sort of education."

"That's the spirit! Of course, you'll have all the help you need. And I think you'll find that your newfound talents will come in handy as well."

"Oh." Charlie rubbed his chin. "Can it be a wooden house?"

"Whatever you think is best."

"Then, er, could Rita help? She has a way with trees and wood."

"See? That's smart thinking, that's exactly why I chose you for this job! Of course she can join your team. In fact, I think she'll be thrilled!"

The next day, Charlie found himself standing in an abandoned playground with four other people. Tara was there, making sure that everyone had what they needed. Rita was talking too much as usual. The other two he thought he recognized vaguely from the party. One was made of stone and several heads taller than anyone Charlie had ever known. The other was short, with gaunt features and long arms. All of them were wearing backpacks with tools and other items Tara thought they might need. Charlie's backpack had extra bullets for his gun. How Tara had found them or was even sure they'd fit he had no idea. In the backpacks were also envelopes with a wax seal depicting a pair of antlers.

Tara turned to face them all.

"Open the envelope. Read the pledge to yourself. If we all agree to the terms, we'll read it aloud together."

Charlie opened his envelope and read through the text. At first, he started skimming, as reading a license agreement for a new piece of software, but realizing the gravity of the situation, he stopped and reread it carefully. It seemed reasonable. Looking up, he nodded to Tara, who looked from face to face, tallying up the votes. Finally, she nodded, and they started intoning the pledge together.

"I swear, on my allegiance to the Spring Court, I shall aid in the creation of a Hollow, and during this undertaking, but no longer than a year and a day, to protect my fellow Hollow makers, from the dangers of the Hedge, and not let any harm befall them, whether by my own action or inaction. Together, our swords shall be sharper, our arrows fly true, and the Hollow we build shall stand for ages to come. This I swear, and this I hold true, for fear of judgement of the Fates."

As the last word passed over his tongue, Charlie was filled with an intense sensation that boiled his blood, turned his skin to ice and set his heart racing. For a brief moment, the world seemed to be spinning too fast, and everything around him seemed brighter and bigger. Then the feeling subsided, withdrawing its tendrils from his veins and nerves, rolling itself into a tiny ball that settled somewhere between his throat and chest. The world seemed to have settled back into normality. They all exchanged sombre looks mixed with relief. They could fully trust each other now. Tara cleared her throat.

"Turner. Can you go in ahead of us, please?"

The small man nodded and shuffled forward to an old playhouse, the once cheerful paint on its walls now flaking around the tiny windows. Charlie glanced at Tara, who was watching Turner open the door to the small house. Inside it was filled with rotten debris. Turner carefully held out his hand to an exposed nail in the door jamb, and then pricked his finger on it. Then he closed the door and stood motionless for a second before opening it again and stepping through.

Charlie drew a sharp breath. He had half expected the door opening up to something else, but the sight on the other side was too strange to comprehend. At first he thought there were tree trunks stacked on top of each other inside the house, but then he saw that they weren't really touching. It was a forest where all the trees grew sideways.

When he passed through the opening, Turner had put his right foot next to the nail in the jamb and turned 90 degrees. Now he was walking away from them with his feet firmly planted on what looked like a vertical drop. Turner had literally earned his name. Charlie started giggling at the thought, but stopped himself upon catching a stern look from Tara.

A while later, Turner came back and poked his head through the door.

"Looks clear, come on. Watch your step."

Rita and Tara went through, both of them doing a half-crawl through the doorway to keep their balance rather than mimicking Turner's mid-step gravity switch. Charlie followed suit, feeling his internal organs rearranging as down became left and right became down. He was still lying on the ground fighting the urge to throw up when the stone man threw his backpack through the door and proceeded to squeeze himself through. Seen from within the Hedge, the doorway lay down on its side, leaning against a boulder. The wooden frame groaned as their giant friend fought to join them. It looked like the stone was giving birth.

"Aw shit." He was finally through, and Turner had closed the door behind him.

"What?"

"Look." The stone man pulled out a rusty nail that had been lodged between two stone plates in his abdomen. Turner's face fell.

"Not your fault, Cale. We won't be going through there anytime soon though."

"Wait, you mean we can't go back through?" Charlie asked.

"That's what I said."

"Why didn't we use the big gateway, the path Rita and er- Gertude and I used a couple of days ago?"

"Precisely because we used it a couple of days ago," Turner replied. "We can't go through the same way too often, or they'll track us. Besides, the plan was never to go back the same way, for exactly the same reason. Sure, it would have been good to have this gate in an emergency, but I guess you can't have everything."

Charlie's heart sank. They didn't have an escape route. If someone, or something, stood between them and the path out of the Hedge, they'd be trapped.

Outsider, pt 3

"So what're your contracts? I mean, have you noticed any powers? There are some that a lot of people have, like Hearth. Have you felt lucky or anything?"

"Not lately, but Felix usually was."

"Who's Felix?"

"It's- uh. Never mind."

"Those dice right there, try getting a lucky seven."

Charlie picked up the dice and rolled them. They landed on the chair, showing a one and a four.

"Well, not like that," Rita complained. "You have to mean it. Do it with a bit of flair, something that puts some power into it."

Sighing, Charlie picked up the dice again. He did his best high roller impression, holding the dice cupped in both hands, blowing on them, and shaking them behind his head like a baseball pitcher. As he rolled them, he felt his whole body straining against something, as if moving through water. He struggled to breathe. There was a prickling sensation on his hand, growing steadily into a burning pain as it moved and opened slowly, releasing the dice. When they landed on the chair, the unseen force subsided.

"Ow!" He checked his hand for burn marks. Nothing.

"Cool, you can do it!" The dice showed a five and a two.

"That's... That doesn't mean anything, it's just a question of probability. I- Let me try that again."

"No!" Rita snatched the dice.

"What? Why? If I don't repeat it, I won't know if I really did anything."

"No, you can't challenge fate. Look, if you do it again so soon, fate will notice. And fate gets real mad." She looked truly concerned.

"Uh... Fine, all right. So when can I try again?"

"I dunno, maybe wait 'til tomorrow to be safe. Let's try something else now. What else can you do?"

"Well. I used to be good at building machines, that was my research. But that was a long time ago... or- You know."

"OK, so maybe you built things in Faerie, but I dunno, that seems like a big job though. Maybe you fixed things? Hey, my watch is broken. Maybe you could fix that?"

"Not without the right tools." Charlie smiled. "I can't even open it."

"Just take a look." Rita had already taken the watch off her wrist and dangled it in front of him. Shaking his head, Charlie took it.

"What am I supposed to do with it? OK, fine. I'll look." It was a cheap analogue time piece in garish colours. The second hand wasn't moving. He held it to his ear. Nothing. "It's completely stopped." He tried winding it. Still no movement. When he held it to his ear again, he thought he heard something. He shook the watch. "That's not right. Something's come loose in there." He looked at it, and suddenly he knew exactly how the watch worked, or rather how it didn't. He blinked. If he concentrated, he could imagine the internal workings of the clock overlaid on its face. He launched into an odd dance, the watch in his hand above him, then to his side. He turned it. He shook once. Then he carefully tapped the face twice, and waited. Finally, the second hand began to turn.

"Shit Charlie, what did you do?! That was amazing, it works!" Rita shrieked, grabbed the watch and put it back on. "It's good as new! Thanks!"

"It won't hold for long, there's a piece that's still loose, it's just in the right place for now."

"How did you know? Do you know a lot about watches?"

"I've... Heh, I've worked with similar stuff before, sure, but... Yeah, there's no way I could have known what was wrong."

"You can fix stuff! I have no idea what that contract's called. Maybe Rita or Braggart knows. Hey, isn't it amazing that you had dice here and I had a broken watch, so we could discover your contracts? I think that's amazing! I know this one girl who only has one contract, well that she knows of..."

"Yeah. Amazing." While Rita prattled on, Charlie experienced the all too familiar feeling of one thing after another falling into place. Meeting Gertrude and the others, who led him to Tara. That in turn led to joining the Spring court and miraculously discovering his contracts. One thing after another, like teeth in a cogwheel, as certain as night follows day. It was a familiar situation, but Charlie was different now. So much had changed in his life, and changed him to the very core of his being. Maybe this time it would be different.

Outsider, pt 2

Someone was knocking on the door, but Charlie wasn't sure what to do about the blood on his sword. He blinked. No, of course there was no blood. He was alone. Why would there be blood? He sheathed the sword and answered the door. Rita beamed a smile at him from the hallway.

"Hi! I figured you'd be here." A strand of flowers slid over her face, and she brushed it away. "Thought you might like some company." She barged into the room unbidden. "Oh wow, I totally forgot about how depressing these rooms are."

"You lived here?"

"Well yeah, a lot of us lived here, it's like the half-way home. It's usually empty, I guess 'cause the Hedge is kinda thick here, and so not a lot of people come through? I heard that in some towns they get like four or five every day, but I'm not sure I believe that, I mean geez, it'd be crowded in like a week! Can you imagine? This girl, Esmeralda - you don't know her, she's a Winter - she said she's been to New York - I think it was New York - anyway, big cities are totally packed with Changelings, and the courts are lots more glamorous than here. Are you listening?"

Charlie realized that he was staring out the window. He cleared his throat and closed the door.

"Sorry, I was just thinking how different you are from Tara. You two are pretty much the only people I talk to now, and you're both in the Spring court, right? But you're so different, she's a bit... private. She doesn't talk much."

"Yeah, she kinda keeps to herself." Rita sat down on the bed.

"Why?"

"I dunno. Why does anyone do anything? Maybe something happened when she was locked up in Faerie. She doesn't talk about it, but you know, not a lot of us do if you stop and think about it."

"But she said something about how courts are supposed to represent how people are, and the king asked me about my feelings, but I don't really see the connection. The three of us are pretty different."

"Well we're all people, not some kinda zombies. But you know, everyone in the Spring court has some kinda flair, and most of the people I know here can be kinda cocky and always, like, riding this wave of danger, living on the edge. Plus we all love to party."

"Even Tara?"

"Yeah, in her own way."

"How about the other courts?"

"Well, Summer is mostly all these really angry guys. Also they have the most members I think. They keep saying we should go fight the bad Fae, but I dunno, that sounds kinda stupid."

"Wait, the Fae?"

"F - A - E."

"Like faeries?"

"Kinda, it's like Gertrude said, it's like the bogeyman, except much worse. OK, so Autumn are these really stuffy types, they usually talk about stuff I don't understand, but most of them won't even talk to me. Queen Sheana has the throne right now though, so all the get togethers are usually about some new kinda way to harness the power of Arcadia or whatever. I dunno, seems like what we already got is alright."

"What's that?"

"What?"

"What have we got exactly?"

"Oh, I totally forgot you have amnesia! Oh shit, that was like a pun or something, sorry!" Rita giggled, and Charlie had an increasing desire to strangle her for never getting to anything even resembling a point.

"Yeah, no problem," he forced himself to say. "Now, what is it we have?"

"We have contracts. Like, to climb a tree or to hide in the shadow or swim, stuff like that. They're really useful in a pinch, but some people think they're the shit just because they have a lotta contracts. I say they're useful, they're not everything."

"Contracts? Who with?"

"With anyone."

"To climb a tree?"

"Well, I can do that, I don't know what you can do. You don't really look like any Changeling I know, but I don't know a lot yet."

"I... Anyone can climb trees."

"Yeah, but the contracts is what makes us special, that's our power."

"So... We can sign a piece of paper that says we can climb just like anyone else?"

"No!" Rita laughed, and Charlie's hands itched.

"But that's what you just said! You're talking like I already know this stuff, you have to explain it."

"Right, yeah sorry. Well, how do I explain it? Well, what it is is this. Promises and oaths and stuff work differently for us. Well, actually if you stop and think about it, I think it's the only thing that works in Faerie."

"Is that a place?"

"Yeah, Faerie, Arcadia, it's what's on the other side of the Hedge. I mean you wouldn't, but I remember having to get used to that place, where the sky was up and the ground down just 'cause that's what they promised. Things, like, only worked because there was a deal. I dunno how it works, but we became a part of some deals when we started living there. I dunno if that's something they gotta do to bring us with them or something, but there it is."

"OK... Deals like what? Between people? I don't understand."

"No, I mean deals between anything. Like, a Fae can make a deal with water. Actually, they have to make a deal with air just to breathe. And if they get a good deal, if they're smart enough, they can do more. Maybe make the air hard and walk on it, that kinda stuff."

"But, it's air. There's no changing the laws of nature." But as Charlie said it, he heard his voice quiver with anticipation. This concept of things just agreeing to be the way they were instead of following a unified theory of immutable laws felt too familiar to disregard. It seemed so deeply rooted, as if it was something he'd heard as a child. He remembered his handshake with King Braggart. The oath.

"Like I said," Rita continued, "Faerie doesn't have laws of nature. It's like... It's like when you're dreaming, right? You can maybe fly and monsters are there and all kinds of shit. I think that's actually part of what Faerie is, it's like it's built from dreams or something, or maybe our dreams come from that place. Thing is, it's like this, even when we come back through the Hedge, when we're in the real world again, our contracts still work. Well, I mean, like Gertrude showed you, it's the reason you see how we really look, but normal people don't. That's a contract. That's a deal that someone made."

"I- OK, so what can you do?"

"Um, well you probably noticed how I'm basically a flower tree person kinda girl?"

"Yeah?"

"Check it out." She tensed slightly, and the chair jerked a few inches to the side. Charlie stared as the dice rolled from the sudden movement and then settled. He wondered if he should pinch himself. Rita laughed.

"You should see your face right now!"

"But what the-? How?"

"Well, it's easy, it's made of wood. I have a contract with wood, so it does whatever I say."

Outsider, pt 1

A short while later, Tara entered the back room carrying a shopping bag. Charlie felt something lurch in his stomach, something akin to fear, when he caught sight of her. It was like seeing her for the first time. Her long red hair was draped immaculately over her shoulders. She was wearing a very sombre black suit, like she had just attended a funeral; if not as a grieving friend, then maybe as a bodyguard. Charlie nudged the person sitting next to him.

"Hey. You know Tara?"

"In passing. She's a bit of an outsider to the Spring court, that one. That's not to say she's any worse a courtier than the rest of us, mind. Her heart is in the right place, and her desires as strong as many of ours put together. It's just that her desires are of a different kind."

"What do you mean?" asked Charlie, but now that Tara was approaching them the question went unanswered.

"Charlie. I have some things for you." She plucked a wallet out of the bag and proffered it. "You will find an ID card, a credit card and some cash."

"Thank you."

"In here are some clothes." She gave him the bag. "The ones you have on will attract attention."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Charlie changed quickly in one of the pub's bathroom stalls into the jeans and t-shirt Tara had provided. There was also a long coat, which he left in the bag along with the weapons and uniform. Then he took a deep breath, opened the stall door and caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. It felt good to no longer be weighed down by that strange gun and the anachronistic uniform. Charlie felt lighter, unrestricted, ready to start anew. He glanced at the bag. On the other hand, he also felt naked and vulnerable. He imagined Prearis shuffling around in the woods with no tongue or eyes.

"Dammit." He fished out the uniform belt, strapped it back on, holstered the gun and sheathed the sword. With the coat on, he hoped the weapons were somewhat concealed. He would have to avoid getting frisked of course. Frisked? He paused and reflected on the fact that the new Charlie felt more at ease when armed whereas the old Charlie hadn't even touched a blade, let alone a gun. Instead of feeling like he was becoming someone he no longer knew, the situation was reversed. He was beginning to feel that the old Charlie was somehow stuck in a life that wasn't his and that he was more familiar with this new incarnation. If that meant having to avoid the long arm of the law, then so be it. He looked at himself in the mirror again, and the wrinkles on his face deepened as he smiled.

The back room was empty, save for Tara standing in the middle of what had passed for a dance floor the night before. She was completely immobile. If Charlie hadn't met her before, he would have thought she was a mannequin. Then he noticed that her eyes followed him across the room, those soft and expressive eyes. Something in his chest seemed to snap apart, or perhaps fall into place.

"Have you had breakfast?" he asked. "Let's go get some coffee."

"I am busy. There is a room for you upstairs. I will be back tomorrow; the King wants to see you."

"Tomorrow? What am I supposed to do until then?"

"I am sure you can find a way to pass the time."

"And where are you going?"

"I have business in the Hedge. A motley emerged this morning, but there is one person missing. I am going to see if I can find her."

"That sounds dangerous."

"Do not be concerned, I have wandered the Hedge many times. This is what I do."

"What, find missing persons?"

"Among other things. I help in any way I can." She raised her hand to adjust the collar of her shirt, absent-mindedly brushing against her black bird pendant in the process.

"OK... I guess I shouldn't keep you then." Charlie wanted to offer his help, but right now he couldn't even bear the thought of entering that horrible maze they called the Hedge. He followed Tara through a back door and she indicated a flight of stairs.

"See you tomorrow."

"See ya."

At the top of the stairs were two doors, one of which had a lock that fit a key Charlie discovered in his coat pocket. The room turned out to be sparsely furnished, with only a bed and a chair next to a window. At least the bed was made, and there was an adjoining bathroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed and noticed that someone had left a pair of dice on the chair. He examined the empty wall opposite him. This sudden isolation was exasperating. He had hoped to learn more about Tara and the other Changelings today, but now he had no one to talk to. His palms began to itch with the need to stay occupied, and his mind began to race with unanswered questions.

Finally, Charlie decided that there was one subject he could research on his own, and that was himself. He drew the sword, a short strange thing that looked almost home made, as if someone had taken a file to it. He stood up and waved the blade in the air, testing its weight. He found that it fit rather well in his hand, but he had no clue what to do with it. He tried something like a karate stance with the blade thrust in front of him, but it only made him self-conscious. Realizing that he really had no idea what he was doing, he sheathed the blade, unexpectedly smoothly and on the first attempt. This was apparently a motion he was used to. Bolstered, he drew the blade again and tried to imagine an enemy bearing down on him. How would he defend himself?

"Click! Clack!" The blade flew through the air, apparently of its own accord, into an overhead block followed by a slash. In his mind's eye, Charlie could see the intruder sprawled on the floor, bleeding out of a deep neck wound. Charlie's hands, both now gripping the hilt of his sword, began to shake uncontrollably.

Acquaintances, pt 4

They moved to a large back room that someone had sprinkled with couches and settees and filled with blaring music and flashing lights. There were all manner of strange people dancing everywhere, most of them with drink in hand. The air was acrid, it smelled a bit like licking a battery. The walls were clad in art, some of it quite disturbing, some highly abstract and some depicting things or places that Charlie recognised vaguely. He felt the rhythm try to ensnare his limbs, but they suddenly felt so heavy. He wanted to dance, but instead he sagged down onto a couch, clutching his beer with both hands. Around him, people slithered and moved as in a trance.

Rita brought people to where he was sitting, introducing him to quite a lot of the assembled ladies and gentlemen, but he found that he forgot their names almost instantly. It was all just too much to take in. One person had green skin like a frog, another had eyes without whites, completely black, some looked monstrous, and some were the most beautiful people Charlie had ever seen. Most of them were clothed in extravagant attire, or something that didn't look like clothes at all. One person seemed to be dressed in a suit of armour made of soda pop cans. Someone else had something very translucent on, and had a loud voice that could always be heard over the din, no matter how far away from Charlie.

He slowly began to drift off, exhaustion and alcohol taking over his body and mind. The lights flashed, and he saw a red devil dancing with an angel. The drums boomed, and he saw a wolf dancing with a deer. Flash. A knight with his sword drawn. Boom. A demon with two heads. Flash. They followed him into his dreams, chasing each other through a garden maze. Boom. Round and round they went, fireworks lighting their way.

When Charlie woke up, a woman draped in layer upon layer of silk was standing in the middle of the room, telling a story. Daylight seeped in through shuttered windows. Someone had taken his beer.

"Away, foul beast! He brandished his sword, but the raven stood fast, perched atop the broken body of Azalea. He made to move closer, to reclaim his love, and the raven turned its one eye toward him. Prearis was suddenly overcome with guilt. The Singing Sword felt a thousand times heavier, his Helmet of Lucidity suddenly constricting. Fighting for breath, he dropped his sword and threw off his helmet. And thusly disarmed and unprotected he was beset upon by the raven, now a black streak of lightning, snatching his eyes and his tongue. The story, I am sad to say, does not end here. It is said that Prearis still wanders the Hedge, now and always following the flowery scent of his true love, searching for her body to be united in the life after this, and woe anyone who would stand in his way, for he will steal their voice and their sight so that they may suffer as he, forevermore."

The men and women around the storyteller applauded. It seemed odd to Charlie that a civilised group of adults, even if they weren't necessarily human, would be entertained by ghost stories. Then it struck him that maybe it wasn't a story. Maybe it was the truth. The storyteller settled down on a couch, and they all began talking, perhaps a dozen all counted. Not many had stayed since last night, or indeed maybe none. Charlie didn't recognise anyone. When he thought about it, he wasn't sure he could remember exactly what Tara looked like, or Rita for that matter. The day before seemed a lifetime long and ages ago. He had seen so much and was still trying to make sense of half of it. His mind was a jumble.

"It's Charlie, right?" someone said. "Do you have any new stories for us?"

Before he knew it, Charlie was talking. His thoughts just spilled out of his mouth, but he was still confused. There were blanks.

"There was a child once. I don't remember his name, what was it?"

"Felix?" a voice ventured.

"Yes. Good. Felix was a good boy. He never caused any trouble, but trouble had a way of finding him. There was this one time I remember, there had been a raffle at school, and Felix won. He often had that kind of luck, in games of chance. The prize was so lovely, it was a glass figurine, a-uh... It was a small..."

"Bird?"

"A cat?"

"Yes, a cat. This cat had many different colours, the tail was white and the eyes were yellow, but the body was a kind of deep azure, almost hidden within the glass. Felix wondered if that was simply the natural colour of glass he was seeing or if someone had tinted it that way, in some ingenious way using some chemical process that one could learn. He showed it to all of his friends. He bragged about it. He couldn't wait to show his parents what a brilliant prize he had won. On his way home, Felix came upon a... an old..."

"Dog!"

"No, a man, of course!"

"A witch?"

"I don't... Did someone say dog? I think it was a dog. The dog was barking, and Felix was scared. He had to take the long way around to get to his house, and that took him through a garden. But the garden was no good either, there was a..."

"Another dog?"

"A bully."

"Here's where the witch comes in!"

"No, bully. Yes, it was a group of bullies. Felix didn't want them to take his glass cat, so he came up with a plan. There was a big tree that had a long branch that stretched all the way over the street. If he could climb into the tree and over that branch, he would make it to safety. His cat would be safe. So he climbed the tree. The trunk was easy climbing, and the bullies didn't notice him. They were busy playing, or screwing with some other kid, I don't remember.

"The point is, Felix was up in this tree. The branch was thinner than he'd thought, and he was afraid it'd break under his weight. There was a noise like something cracking, he was sure he was going to fall. And he almost did, he scrambled to keep his balance on that branch, crawling along it. And when he did, he got the feeling that something dropped out of his pocket. He panicked and his hand went into his pocket without thinking. The cat was still there, but now he really lost his balance, and with only his left hand holding on to the branch, he fell. Right down on the street, where he was hit by a car.

"The doctors said later that the fall hadn't broken his leg, it was the car. It was crushed under the wheels. Felix's father, who drove the car, blamed himself. If he hadn't decided to come home early, he had said, then he hadn't crushed Felix's leg. Felix knew better. Felix knew that if he hadn't climbed that tree, if the dog hadn't scared him, and if he hadn't won that cat, he would still be out playing instead of being confined to his bed for months. So he lay there, staring at that damned cat that was still somehow in one piece, sitting triumphantly on a bookshelf, and Felix swore never to trust his luck again."

To Charlie's surprise, his jumbled thoughts were met with applause. Everyone was smiling, and went on to analyse the story amongst themselves, picking it apart and talking about the interactive elements. As if that was something Charlie had done on purpose. Charlie stayed lost in thought for the duration. He could still feel the weight of the wheel on his leg, and the pain as it seemed to explode. He had never stopped hating that fucking cat.

Acquaintances, pt 3

"Hey, Charlie." Rita was at his side, smiling. "Tara found you, huh? She's good at finding newbies."

"Rita." Charlie was relieved to see a familiar face. "Where are the others?"

"They wouldn't be caught dead here, it's boring! I dunno why I came, I guess I was just kinda looking to meet some people, or something. So far it's a dud. All this stuff is way over my head."

"Rita, have you seen Braggart?" Tara asked.

"Speak of the devil!" someone bellowed, making Charlie jump with shock. "Whoa, easy there. Your friends are always so skittish, Tara. Is that a new face?"

"Braggart, this is Charlie. He is new."

Charlie turned around and saw a large man with the biggest smile he'd ever seen. It was uncomfortably big and seemed to have an undertone of violence. Of course, it might just be a smile. Charlie understood that he could be imagining things; maybe he was indeed skittish. The rest of the large man was dressed in a three-piece suit that looked to be weaved of silver strands. From certain angles, it caught the light and nearly blinded you. Otherwise, it seemed to have a phantasmal sheen about it, like it just might be its own source of light. Or perhaps the light emanated from Braggart himself.

"Charlie, this is-"

"No, allow me!" Braggart exclaimed, his smile growing impossibly wider. "I am King Braggart of the Antler Crown, King of the Emerald Court, Gilded Aspirant of the Sacred Band of the Golden Standard, Shatterer of Ivy Bonds and Restorer of the Fortress Elemental," he said, punctuating his list of titles with raucous laughter. Rita giggled as if to a joke she couldn't get enough of. Charlie noted that Tara's face didn't change one bit. His own face flushed when her eyes flicked to meet his before returning to King Braggart.

"Charlie here seems to have forgotten all about his time in Arcadia." She looked to him for confirmation.

"Uh. Arcadia? If that's, yeah, I mean, I just remember walking into a forest, and then the next thing I know I'm being chased by this monster, a, uh."

"Ravager," Rita offered. "And that's when we found him." The four of them started walking together, the king laying his hand on Rita's shoulder in a fatherly fashion.

"Interesting. So he's of no use to the Leaden Mirror then. I'd say he has no way to move but forward. The question is how. Let's go have a drink, Charlie! You look like you could use one."

"No kidding, I'm parched."

A short walk later they were settled comfortably in a booth at a quaint pub with a colourful name. Charlie had already downed a cold frothy beer and was making short work of another when he became aware of the others talking. When he looked up, Tara left them and went to sit at the bar, fingering a black bird pendant. Before Charlie could get a handle on what was happening, Braggart fixed him with what seemed like an uncharacteristically solemn stare.

"What are you feeling, Charlie?"

It seemed a very peculiar question, but judging by the look on Rita's face it was a very important one. Charlie thought back and realized it had been an emotionally exhausting day. He'd never been more afraid in his life than he'd been in the last few hours. He'd also been sobbing like a child. Carefully searching within him after the concentrated knot of emotion he had accidentally loosened then, he felt it was now wound tight, but waiting to burst out of his chest at any given moment. It wasn't fear. He felt safe, even with a giant who called himself king and a girl made of lacquered wood. The sudden grief for losing his old life was oddly absent. He wondered for a second whether he was still in shock, but there was an undeniably profound comfort in the thought that there was no turning back. Now that he'd had some time to think and not just react, he found he didn't really want to think about the university. Instead, something else was vying for his attention, something bubbling up to the surface, a movement like butterflies flapping, something just on the edge of anxiousness.

"I'm... curious." This seemed to catch the king's attention. "I want to know how all of this works, what's keeping it together. I'm a man of science, and today I've seen things that can only be described as magic. It's titillating. I want... more, I suppose. I have a thirst for more." He looked from face to face. "And I think I'd like to get to know you all better."

"I think there'll be plenty of time for that, boy. You're welcome to join my court. We'll set you up with a new identity, some money, get you started on a new life, keep you safe. In return, you will come to the court's aid when we call."

"That's... That sounds good."

"Do you swear fealty to the Spring Court, Charlie?"

"I swear." They shook hands, and in that moment something stirred, some force that was very familiar to Charlie, as if the world aligned itself around their handshake. He knew then, and the knowledge came from his heart, as natural as in a dream, that he had just made an unbreakable oath.

Recommended listening

Just rediscovered this song. I think it fits perfectly.

Acquaintances, pt 2

The thing that looked like Charles Holcombe frowned, and stood up. Terror gripped Charlie, and he ran, wondering what the thing might be capable of. If there was anything he'd learned today, it was to not trust appearances. He quickly made his way back to the park, hoping the others would still be there. Hoping against hope that the impostor wouldn't follow.

He found himself cowering behind a tree in the middle of the park, feeling exposed, looking over his shoulder. Somehow he could feel the impostor's eyes, its gaze on his neck. Gertrude and the others were nowhere to be seen. Charlie was alone in a world that had become alien to him. In a world with no place for him.

The next instant, he was fighting for breath, sagging down onto his knees, his vision blurring. He only caught on when he felt the tears roll down his face and heard himself sobbing. There was no stopping it, he had somehow tapped into an endless source of raw emotion that had laid dormant somewhere deep in his gut.

What was he going to do? Where would he go? His old life was gone, the Charlie he knew might as well be dead. There was nothing for him here anymore.

"Hey. It's going to be all right."

He looked up. Standing over him, the sun casting a halo around her face, was a girl. She offered him a bone white hand. He grasped it, still hulking. It was cool to the touch, but not unpleasantly cold, like a stone in the shade on a sunny day. She helped him stand, and with the sun out of his eyes he could see her face.

"You're a..."

"A Changeling. Gertrude told me you'd be here."

"Oh. I see. But..." Her face was a painted and polished mask. The glaze had peeled off under her eyes, where he could make out finely worked wood. The nose was extremely delicate, and he could just make out hairline gaps around her mouth that shifted as she spoke, an intricate mechanism that folded in on itself in sections. He was immediately taken in, as much by her superficial beauty as the fascinating design and workmanship. She was a living wooden doll. He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands and sniffed. "Uh... This is going to sound stupid, but... Have we met before?"

"Let's not dwell on the past. What's your name?"

"Charlie."

"I'm Tara. Follow me, Charlie."

They walked through town, past the university towards the south end of Harmon. Charlie caught himself inspecting every minute detail of the doll woman. Tara had a fascinating gait. It was so consistent, as if it were choreographed or programmed, more like a dancer mimicking a walk than a person walking. He felt a sudden impulse to push her, just to see if she would regain her balance or continue her walk cycle lying on her side.

"I should introduce you to the courts." She was suddenly looking at him, holding his gaze firmly. Her eyes were distinctly human. "You're a Changeling now. You should become acquainted with Changeling society."

"Changeling..."

"Yes. Did Gertrude tell you about the courts?"

"No."

"Our society is divided into four courts, one for each season. I am a member of the Spring court."

"What does that mean? Is a court like a political party or something?"

"Not quite. One's court is part of one's identity, as well as being the ruling faction during its season."

"Sounds... interesting. Are all the courts represented in Harmon?"

"If we didn't have a Summer court, who would rule during summer?"

"Of course."

"As you can see, all four courts are needed for a Changeling society to function."

"How many Changelings are there in Harmon?"

"No one is keeping count. Maybe a hundred or so. We're here." They were in a back alley. A waiter sat slumped on a loading dock, smoking a cigarette. Apart from the three of them, the place looked deserted.

"Where?"

She motioned for him to follow and opened a door leading into a big building to their right. They went inside and walked through a dimly lit hallway with a few doors on either side, a flight of stairs down into a dark cellar, and a set of swinging double doors at the end. Charlie was beginning to wonder why he trusted Tara. She said she'd spoken to Gertrude and the others, but where were they? Gertrude had mentioned some other side, some sort of enemies. What if Tara was one of those, whoever they were? He must have been too fascinated by her to critically consider what he was doing. He was probably making a huge mistake.

"They are just through here," she said.

Charlie didn't bother asking who. He wasn't sure he'd get a straight answer anyway. She pushed the double doors open and they came out in a conference hall dotted with tables where people were conversing amicably. At least they seemed like people at first glance. Then Charlie saw a man with horns, a woman enveloped in fire, a giant made of stone, and that none of the people in the room were human. They were all Changelings.

Acquaintances, pt 1

They showed him the park. The grove was there, but it looked a lot less intimidating. It was just a few trees, nothing out of the ordinary. The rest of Harmon was just as Charlie remembered it. On their way to St Abraham Park, they'd passed the train station, almost got run over by a few trams when crossing the street, and then his heart had leapt when he saw the clock tower of the university. He was still looking longingly towards it across the park when he noticed that something was off. He looked around. The leaves were yellowing. It was autumn. Last time he had been here, it had been high summer. He remembered deciding to stay over the holiday to get better acquainted with the school grounds and preparing his courses.

"I've been gone for months." The other three avoided his gaze, even Julian, who had kept a watchful eye on him ever since they reached town. "You knew?"

"Man, I'm sorry. You probably been gone longer than that. How old are you?"

"31, why?"

"Rita?" She took a compact out of her pocket and handed it to Julian, who gave it to Charlie. Gertrude, back to her butterfly self, winced and turned away.

Frowning, Charlie opened the compact. "Wha- Fuck." Staring back at him from within the tiny mirror was some decrepit parody of himself, an old man with wrinkles criss-crossing his face. His hair was still black, but longer and unkempt. His nose and oddly hairless chin jutted out more than usual. His whole appearence was jagged and worn. He looked like a walking warzone. Charlie had become a completely different person. He didn't know who he was anymore, but one thing he knew for sure. This kind of change didn't happen in a few months.

"They'll wonder where I am."

"Who?"

"My colleagues, at the university, I have to go there and tell them I'm OK, that I'm alive, I've been missing for years, they probably think I'm dead! Oh shit. Mom."

"Charlie..."

"She calls me every week, she must be so worried!"

"Charlie, you can't go back."

"I have to find a phone. Do you guys have change? I'll pay you back."

"Listen to her, man!" Someone grabbed him by the shoulder. It was Julian. Gertrude was standing next to him.

"Charlie, they leave someone else. To take your place, you've been... exchanged. Like the bogeyman, you know how they tell you when you're a kid, where they would scare you and tell you the bogeyman would come and take you? It's true. It happens. That's pretty much what happened to all of us. And with each of us, they leave someone, something, behind. Something that looks just like you, talks just like you. So that no one misses you, no one will come looking."

"That's impossible."

"Charlie-"

"No, enough, fine! I'll go there myself, what time is it? Never mind, there's the tower. OK, if I hurry I can catch them between classes." He walked off, pushing every doubt and nagging question to the back of his mind, but they kept popping back up. Why hadn't anyone come for him? They must have, but how would they find him? Not even he knew where he'd been. And for how long would they keep searching? How long had it been? He looked at least 20 years older. His heart sank when he thought of the face in the mirror. All the time he had lost, all the things he could have accomplished, should have accomplished by now.

He stalked across the school grounds and past the gymnasium to the administrative building. He pulled open the front doors and was right on the doorstep when someone called his name.

"Charles Holcombe! Where do you think you're going, you rascal?"

It was a woman's voice he didn't recognize, and he couldn't place the source. The reception was milling with people, students queuing for exam results and teachers pushing past him to get to their next class. Someone else spoke, right next to his ear.

"What you got for me, Mary?"

One of the teachers turned away from the door and walked over to the receptionist's desk. He leaned over the counter to speak with a blonde girl. Mary. Charlie remembered her now. She had offered to show him around when he first got here. He looked at the man again, and his stomach turned. It was him. It was someone wearing his clothes, looking exactly like he had done when he moved to Harmon, as if no time had passed at all. He even spoke like him, in his voice. It was Charlie's job, Charlie's life. Charlie felt like he was in free-fall, he felt sick. He hurried out, afraid someone would see him, afraid someone would notice that his sword and gun were real.

Just as the doors closed behind him, he looked back. For some inconceivable reason, Charlie was compelled to look back. And the Charles Holcombe stared him straight in the eyes through the glass doors. Charlie saw a spark of recognition in its eyes. It knew.

Out of the Hedge, pt 4

"My way? My way where?"

"Back to the real world," Gertrude explained.

"This is real too!"

"Geez, I know, Rita, I'm just explaining so Charlie understands."

"Actually, I remember where I live."

"Really? But you have amnesia!"

"Rita!"

"What, he totally does!" She pouted, turned her back, crossed her arms and stomped off demonstratively, but only a few steps, not really putting any distance between them.

"Anyway," Charlie said, breaking in. "Like I said, I just don't know what I'm doing here, I never said I forgot who I am or where I live. I mean, I did tell you my name. Last thing I remember, I was in St Abraham Park, and there was this grove of trees..."

"Abby park? That's-"

"Rita, shush, he's remembering something."

"Yeah. Yeah... I went to the park, I mean, I just moved here, so I was just kind of exploring, but there was a grove of trees that I recognized from somewhere. I don't know that I ever saw them before, they just seemed so familiar. I remember the sun was up high, it was lunchtime, and the trees, there were just maybe four or five in the middle of this huge lawn, but they cast this really dense shadow. It was like a pitch black shade on the ground in there. I remember thinking it felt so weird, and so familiar, it felt... so out of place."

"Did... did you go in?" Gertrude whispered, and it was only then that Charlie noticed he was speaking in hushed tones himself.

"Yeah. And I don't remember anything after that."

For the first time since he'd met them, the three fell silent. Julian sniffed the air and scanned the forest around them. Rita stared at her feet. Gertrude's eyes went unfocused, looking at a point somewhere through Charlie's head. As he should have known, Rita was the first to speak.

"I know where Abby park is, we can take you!"

"What? I never agreed to babysitting."

"She's right, Julian, we have to help him. Plus, he's so close, and it's on the way."

"And then what? No. This is a bad idea."

"Come on, would you rather he went to the other side? Because if we don't bring him back, they will. Or if he gets lost again, and..."

Julian sighed. "Fine. If he tries something, I'll break his neck." Charlie had the feeling it wouldn't be the first time.

"Then it's settled."

"Yay!"

They set off alongside a wide trail that looked wheel-worn. The sun was out again, which made no sense to Charlie, but he refrained from bringing it up since everything he said only garnered strange looks. Julian led the way, keeping them off the trail itself, but with his eyes trained on it at all times.

"Why don't we walk on the trail instead?" asked Charlie as he kicked a root in revenge for stubbing his toe on it. "Ow."

"Julian says it's bad luck," Rita answered, slightly out of breath.

"Oh." He let it rest. In the short time he'd observed them, Charlie had noticed that they all seemed to have their own little fixations. Rita, who seemed otherwise very friendly, had ignored his offered hand twice, first when he tried to shake hands and later when she had tripped and fallen and he tried to help her up. Julian trusted no one and nothing, least of which the trail they were following. After his own run-in with the ravager, Charlie couldn't blame him. Gertrude stopped approximately every 100 meters to turn ponderously around full circle while the others waited. Charlie thought to himself that having one of these people in a class would have driven his colleagues back at the university insane inside a week, but he didn't mind at all. In fact, he found their antics oddly soothing. He felt safe with them.

Strangely, the trail ended in the middle of an alley. Charlie started. He had been so focused on not being tripped by protruding roots that he hadn't noticed the forest receding, but now when he looked back it was on the horizon. He followed the others through a large stone archway, and now he heard the cars going by, people yelling, a dog barking. He took in the atmosphere and filtered out Gertrude and Julian.

"Was this open?" she said.

"I saw Turner go through ahead of us," he reassured her.

"Hey guys, I never even noticed us getting out of the woods." Charlie pointed back, and then turned to look down his own index finger through the archway at an inner yard with an outdoor cafe where people appeared to be having tea. There were buildings all around, and no forest or horizon in sight. Charlie quickly brought his hand back down, but forgot to close his mouth.

"What the- Move! What are you doing?"

Someone grabbed him and pulled him further down the alley, where he fell flat on his back.

"Julian, he didn't know, he's a newbie! And look, it's closed now!"

Sprawled on the ground, Charlie looked up at the sky framed by brick walls rising towards it. The goat entered his field of vision, bent down and scowled at him. Then he left, leaving Charlie to pick himself up. He brushed off some dirt, and then realized what he was wearing.

"Oh." Then he looked at the others, heading out onto a busy street. "Wait! You can't go out there!" They stopped on the sidewalk to turn back and face him, and he caught up. "People will go nuts, I mean, you guys don't exactly blend in."

"See?" said Rita and pointed out this apparently ludicrous behaviour to the others.

"So maybe he is new," Julian conceded grudgingly.

"Charlie, it's alright, they don't see what you see. Look." Gertrude indicated a few passers-by, and sure enough, they didn't as much as glance at her. "They can't see what we really look like, they only see the mask. Here, I'll show you."

Gertrude took a breath, closed her eyes and wiped her hand over her face. Suddenly, where an alien butterfly girl had stood, was a lanky and rather ordinary looking 20-something with dyed blue hair. She had colourful tattoos down her forearms where her wings had been, and now that he thought about it, she'd always worn those dark leather jeans, t-shirt and chains, he had just been too focused on the rest of her appearance to notice. She just looked like she was really into punk. Or maybe in a band.

Now that he had a human comparison, he looked at the other two, who were still in their non-human forms, and connected the dots. Julian was barechested and his mask most likely had a goatee. Drummer? Rita was curvy, extrovert and would probably make an attractive human. Lead singer?

"Hey, you guys need a bass player?"

"Aw hell no! He is not joining the band!"

"Haha, I'm joking, Julian, I don't play."

For a split second, they just stared at him. Then they laughed.

"Shit, man, you had me. Hey, maybe you're alright." Julian slapped Charlie on the shoulder and walked past him, leaving the girls wide-eyed in disbelief.

Out of the Hedge, pt 3

The staff swung upwards with such force that he could barely hold on even with both hands. His adrenaline-addled brain had time to think that his arms would just be ripped out of their sockets, leaving the rest of him to be cleaved in two by the monstrous wolf. Then he finally followed the staff into the treetops where someone held Charlie around his waist and draped him unceremoniously over a sturdy branch, knocking the wind out of him.

"You OK? He seems OK," someone said in a low gravelly voice. Charlie tried to breathe and get his bearings. He wanted to make sure he knew which way was down before he moved. Propping himself up against the treetrunk, he looked around and saw three people. Deformed, strange people. One had blue skin and resembled a butterfly, down to the little antennae and wings protruding from his or her arms. Charlie couldn't tell if it was male or female. The second one was definitely female, with skin like a birch sapling and a multitude of flowers growing from her head and down her neck. The third looked like a big grey goat, the only mostly human features being his furclad torso and arms. He was handing the staff, which Charlie could now see was a highly polished baton, to the butterfly. They all seemed rather young, and they were all smiling.

"That ravager almost had you, but you're a pretty good runner," said the butterfly, and now Charlie could hear she was a she.

"Nah," the flower teased. "It did have a limp."

"I know, I wasn't going to say anything!" the butterfly said, and then the three of them burst into heartfelt laughter. And Charlie laughed too, because he was alive.

Back on solid ground, the goat handed Charlie the gun.

"You dropped this," he said and grinned, which looked odd on a goat's face. Charlie mumbled something in thanks, and then looked back and forth between the three, wondering when exactly he'd fallen through the rabbit hole. Was he going crazy? These people couldn't actually look this way, he had to be hallucinating. And that monster, had that been real? Now that it wasn't standing right in front of him, he could scarcely believe it hadn't been a dream.

"He's a newbie!" the flower suddenly said.

"Rita-" the butterfly started.

"What? It's obvious, look, he's staring at us."

"And he obviously never dealt with a ravager before," the goat chimed in. "He had a gun, should have just turned around and shot it."

"Come on, I remember you running a lot," said the butterfly.

"Just saying."

Charlie felt left out of a conversation of which he couldn't make heads nor tails, even though it somehow concerned him.

"I'm sorry, new to what?" he asked. Six eyes turned to him.

"Um," said the butterfly. "I'm not sure how to explain this..."

"I do!" the flower, Rita, exclaimed. "You just got away from the bad Fae, right? You're on your way back to the human world, right? So now you have to-"

"Wait, wait, stop. Who's Fay, and... excuse me, may I?" He held out his hand towards the goat's shoulder. The goat shrugged, and Charlie carefully stroked the fur. "Holy shit, it's real."

"Great, he's hopeless."

"He's just a newb!"

"Shut up, both of you!" The butterfly was fuming. "This is very important! We could screw him up if we don't do this right!"

The goat shrugged again, and Rita pulled a face. The butterfly turned to Charlie, and tried on a smile.

"Hi. I'm Gertrude, this is Rita and Julian. What's your name?"

"I'm Charlie." They shook hands. Her skin was very dry.

"Hi Charlie. We're just like you. We were all kidnapped and brought to some weird place, just like you, and then we managed to get out of there, some of us together, like Rita and I, and some of us on our own, like Julian here. Oh that's right, was there anyone else with you that you want to go back and help?"

Charlie must have looked puzzled, because he was.

"I mean, were you alone when you got out?" She spoke in soft sing-song tones, as if speaking to a child.

"I uh... I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's OK if you don't want to talk about it. In fact, we don't talk much about our time in Faerie either. We just prefer to talk about other stuff."

"No, I mean, I don't know what I'm doing here, I was just suddenly here with these clothes and the gun, and I don't understand how I got here. I don't understand, I don't, it's, I don't know..." His face was hot.

"He has amnesia!"

"Rita, shut up." Gertrude looked concerned. "Well. Um, if you really don't remember..."

"Then how's he supposed to find his way?" Julian finished.

Out of the Hedge, pt 2

Later in the evening, he summoned the energy and courage to start walking again. Because St Abraham Park was to the north of the city, he kept the sun to his right, reasoning that since he'd walked here it couldn't be that far. He was still struggling to explain his strange outfit. He'd found that he had some kind of short sabre as well as a type of firearm he didn't recognize. At first he'd thought it was an antique or at least a replica of something Napoleonic, but it had a revolving cylinder like a six-shooter. For lack of anything better to do, he had taken out the rounds and seen that one was spent. That probably meant a bullet had been fired from the gun that was now hanging from his belt. That scared him. What scared him even more was that he seemed to know how to handle a gun. He'd never touched a gun in his life before today. He wasn't some sort of lone gunman, he was a scientist.

Thinking back to his laboratory, Charlie let slip a sigh. He wanted nothing more than to be back there, perusing an abstruse white paper and absent-mindedly sipping a camomile tea. He could almost smell it now. A cautious smile spread across his face, easing the wrinkles between his eyebrows, as he took a long whiff of the imaginary tea. Exhaling, he even thought he could hear some of the more rambunctious students chase each other down the hallway, laughing and screaming. He opened his eyes, stopped cold and cocked his head. The laughter was real. His ears only caught snatches of it carried on the wind, and most of it was drowned out by the whispering trees, but he was most definitely hearing the sound of laughing children. They seemed to be somewhere straight ahead. Charlie forged on through the undergrowth with renewed strength.

He felt affirmed when he stumbled across a path going roughly the same direction he was. Now in high spirits, he followed it. He was getting close, he could feel it. He was sure that the forest changed around him as he moved down the path, another sign of nearing civilization. After a short while, he realized that he no longer heard anything other than the wind in the trees, and the path ended abruptly in unusually dense vegetation. Thinking that it might have grown over, Charlie pushed against the leaves ahead of him, but only managed to open a large and painful scratch along his left arm against the unyielding thorny branches. Cursing, he held his other hand against the bleeding wound and turned around. He froze. Before him was something like a wolf, but with jet-black skin and mandibles like an insect. It padded soundlessly towards him on single-taloned paws, the waning sunlight through the leaves mottling its slick skin, and suddenly Charlie's eyes adjusted to the perspective. His blood turned to ice. The thing was huge, its startlingly blue eyes level with his own. It opened its mouth, clicked a pair of mandibles the size of his forearm, and laughed like a baby.

Before Charlie could react, he heard a loud crack echo through the forest. Then he smelled the smoke, saw the gun in his hand and the wolf-thing recoiling in pain, an oozing hole in one of its hind legs. Adrenaline took over, and Charlie ran. Somehow he found an opening beside him and squeezed between the branches, holding up his arms to avoid poking out his eyes on the thorns, the gun still in hand. He could hear something crashing through the bushes behind him. His neck stiffened and his arms flailed, trying to gain momentum. From somewhere in the back of his panicked mind, the math of four legs against two screamed for attention. He crouched down, almost going into a tackle against a tree ahead, but then shoved his foot down hard against the grass and turned at a right angle, hoping to outmanouevre the large beast. He heard a deeply satisfying thud and a grunt, a moment's silence as he gained some headway, and then something breaking into a gallop.

He was stuck on a straight stretch bordered by trees and high thick bushes. There was no way to go but forward, and the wolf-thing was sure to catch up. It was making that sound again, the sound of an innocent child's laughter coming from that dark glistening maw hungry to rend his flesh and break his bones. Just as he thought he would be impaled on the beast's mandibles, hoping for a quick death, he saw a red staff dangling from a treebranch.

"Grab on!" someone bellowed, and Charlie did.

Out of the Hedge, pt 1

Charlie had been running for a long time. He could tell because his throat was raw, his legs were numb and his heart seared with pain. A single thought burned like a white hot star in his mind: Keep running. No notion of running from or toward something, there was no past or future. Right now, Charlie had to keep running. He ran through brambles that tore at his skin, eager to spill his blood and drain him of determination. He raged through the mist that made him lose his way, plotting to keep him going in circles and steal his sanity. He fought through marshes that shackled his feet, trying to root him to the ground and break his spirit.

Through it all Charlie began to feel the taste of blood and the tension in his jaw, set square against the bile. He felt the sting of cuts and bruises on his arms and legs, the ache in his joints with every jarring step. Slowly, his mind strayed and he became vaguely aware of his surroundings. It dawned on him that he had been running for a very long time without getting anywhere. Everything in these woods conspired against him. He was stuck in a maze.

He stopped and doubled over, hands on his knees, gulping down air, filling his burning lungs. He couldn't breathe fast enough, his heart was trying to crack his ribcage, and his eyes swam in a sea of stars. He sagged onto the ground to catch his breath and looked around.

"Where the fuck- Where am I?"

Untouched wilderness stretched out in all directions. Trees and thick thorny undergrowth, with neither any sign of civilisation nor any lights in the distance. He must have somehow got out of the city, way past St Abraham park. He blinked. The park. His memory was fuzzy, as if it had happened years ago. He remembered that it had been sunny and warm, and he'd decided to go for a walk during lunch. Now it was getting dark, which meant he must've been away for hours. What in the world would possess him to wander off aimlessly? Why had he been running?

Rubbing his legs, trying to get some life back into them, he looked down and stopped. These weren't his clothes. Someone had dressed him up as a soldier. He looked like something out of a war re-enactment or like a tin soldier. Charlie sat back and just stared down at himself for a while, half hoping that the explanation would jump out at him, that something would trigger a memory. Nothing came. He couldn't recognize any of the things he was wearing. His mind was totally blank. Had he been drinking? Apart from being exhausted, he felt fine; no nausea, no headache. There had to be an explanation. Feeling his pulse rising and his face flushing, he ordered his brain to start working, start thinking, start remembering, to do anything. The thought went on and on in a loop, becoming a mantra that he focused on in a last-ditch attempt to collect his thoughts. Instead, he felt his mind go into overdrive, the one thought spinning out of control, which only got him more worked up. Now he wanted to punch something.

"Shit! What the fuck am I doing here? Hello! Help!"

His voice didn't seem to carry far. There was no hint of an echo.

"Hello?"

It was like screaming into a pillow. A sour tightness formed in the pit of his stomach. Charlie suddenly felt very alone.

Antagonist

I think I have a good idea for an antagonist that might give the story some depth.

Click for spoilers

Time in Arcadia isn't necessarily linear. Charlie experienced this first-hand, and although he now remembers nothing, it has definitely left its mark on his personality. His True Fae Keeper manipulated and molded him using the image of a girl made of porcelain.

When Charlie is first abducted as a child and brought into the Hedge by his Keeper, he is saved and freed by the Porcelain Girl, who in this instance is a grown woman and a mother figure. She thanks him for protecting her and returns him to his home.

Adult Charlie, with no memory of being abducted, unwittingly tries to recreate his ideal of the Porcelain Girl by studying artificial intelligence and robotics. Then he ventures into the Hedge and is recaptured. His Keeper puts him to work protecting a young Porcelain Girl. He fails every day and is forced to watch her shatter into a thousand pieces. Even when he thinks he's succeeded, she destroys herself (using his gun, throwing herself off a cliff, etc), and when he finally manages to save her from herself, he finds that he has to destroy her himself. That's just how the story goes.

After realizing the utterly hopeless nature of his task, he escapes. Charlie the Changeling is hunted by a nightmare version of Porcelain Girl. In this incarnation, she's all teeth, blades and blood, resembling a giant praying mantis. Charlie's Keeper has linked the two, and the plan is to use Charlie as a beacon for the Porcelain Girl. Charlie is emotionally unable to fight her, for reasons he can't remember, and instead repeatedly and apparently unintentionally sets traps for his fellow Lost, who are picked off one by one by the Porcelain Girl.

And now, more and more amnesiacs stumble out of the Hedge and join the Freehold.

First chapter outline

I like the Storytelling tips in Changeling, especially the tips for outlining sessions for a chronicle. So I wrote five bullet points and filled in the first and last with what I had already decided on for the Spring chapter in the synopsis. Then I worked backwards from the end, filling out the three middle bullet points, making sure to use something from the following sentence. I got these five sessions for the Spring Court chapter:

Click for spoilers

• Charlie escapes and is found in the Hedge by members of the Spring Court.


• Charlie gains a friend in the Spring Court and joins her motley.


• Charlie is introduced to the other courts by going to various functions with his new friend.


• His motley faces off with a rival motley from another court.


• Charlie's motley is wiped out by his captor's minions.

As it turns out, the fourth bullet point is the only new one to me, and I think it ties the story together pretty well.

Planning stages

I have some ideas for a Changeling chronicle, and decided to play it out on my own and write it down as a serialized story on this blog. I'm currently outlining the first part. If you want to follow the planning, here's a synopsis for the whole story.

Click for spoilers

Charlie was abducted as a child, but only spent a short time in Arcadia. He has since blocked out his memories of the True Fae, but they still visit him in nightmares. Through most of his life, he's been half changeling, half human, living with one foot in the Hedge. He has bouts of incredible luck followed by the worst luck imaginable. He works his way to the top, only to fall all the way to the bottom.

One day he recognizes a grove in a park he's never visited before. He steps through a gateway to the Hedge and is recaptured. After what seems like an eternity, he escapes, forever changed.

In his life as fully fledged changeling, Charlie has trouble finding a place in his new world. He lacks any clear memories of Arcadia, and thus can't identify with the other Lost. Everything is so very strange, yet it all feels strangely familiar. He changes courts roughly every year, seeing from the inside how each court rules during its season.

Following his instincts, Charlie suppresses his memories of Faerie once again and falls for the allure of the Spring Court. Having lived a most magical life, he regales his fellow courtiers with tales of poetic justice, echoing his own experiences in the mortal world. He grows fond of another Lost in the Spring Court, and joins her motley. They go to various functions throughout the year, introducing him to the other courts and the various Freehold members.

His motley is wiped out, and gripped by sorrow and paranoia, Charlie goes to ground. He finds solace when a member of the Winter Court takes him under her wing. He learns to blend in and returns to living as a mortal under an assumed identity. He starts to blame himself for his motley's unfortunate fate; he should've known better, recognized the danger and warned his friends. While remaining unseen at the edges of the Hedge, he learns a secret that piques his interest in the art of magic.

Charlie decides to stop repeating his mistakes, and to face his greatest fear: his memories. He turns to the Autumn Court, who find that his newly acquired secrets make him the perfect candidate. Charlie learns that his memories weren't suppressed, they were blocked by his Fae Keeper, to use him in an attempt to destabilize the changeling courts. After finding his true changeling identity and doing some soul searching, Charlie begins to disagree with the Autumn court's methods. He is shunned.

Fear gives way to wrath as Charlie regains his confidence. He wants revenge, and he has no patience for anything other than a direct conflict. Shedding his borrowed mantles, he unlocks new abilities that manifest during a Summer test of strength. The Summer court recruits him due to his newfound physical prowess, but will they help him in his campaign against his Keeper? Can Charlie convince the four courts to band together against the greatest threat they have ever faced?