Read Online Fell (The Sight 2) by David Clement-Davies - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Clement-Davies
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thought of the mountains didn’t make her feel safe at all, yet there was a strange excitement in the girl’s heart too.
“But I promised never to leave you, Mia.”
“Promises only matter if you try to keep them, Mother told me. Sometimes you can’t, that’s all,” the little girl said with the strength and practicality of a born peasant. “I’m safe with my aunt and uncle, at least, but you’ve got to go, and quick.”
Alina nodded, finding courage in her little friend’s brave words, then started moving about the barn, gathering up her few humble possessions. The little girl helped her pick up her bits of clothing, a pack, and the parcel of food she had brought her earlier, and at last Alina was ready.
But with that they heard two more voices outside. The children peered through a crack in the barn door and saw Malduk running back into the yard and, trotting alongside him, one of the soldiers they had met earlier. The one who had spoken of Achil.
“You’re safe from the Turk, for now at least,” said the soldier, bringing his horse to a stop. “And Stefan’s men are roused. But you must look to your loved ones.”
Malduk was regarding the man very nervously, for he hadn’t expected to meet him on the track at all.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
There were shouts and the group of villagers from neighbouring Moldov, the men Malduk had spied before, came crowding down the path, and into the yard. They had burning tapers in their hands and their mood was ugly. They were hunting. At their head was a shepherd Alina recognised, called Barbat.
“What’s wrong, men?” cried the soldier.
“Sculcuvant,” answered Barbat, “the changeling. Where is he?”
Alina’s heart was suddenly pounding fast enough to burst. What now?
“I … I don’t know,” answered Malduk. “He was sleeping in the barn, but now he’s gone. Perhaps into the fields. Why, man, has he stolen something?”
The villagers had often accused Alin of stealing things.
“Stolen?” cried Barbat scornfully. “What do we care about theft, Malduk, when this is murder?”
In the darkness of the barn, Alina’s knees went weak.
“Murder?” hissed Malduk, with glittering eyes. Ranna’s plan was coming good.
“We found Bogdan on the edge of the village, facedown in the snow,” said Barbat, “with this in his back.”
Barbat reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife with an antler-handled dagger—Alina’s own dagger. In the barn the girl felt as if a thousand furies were suddenly rushing at her, and she clutched at Mia’s arm. Ranna and Malduk had murdered Bogdan.
“It’ll break his wife’s heart,” said Barbat. “It’s his, ain’t it, Malduk? Alin’s.”
“It looks like his, yes,” answered Malduk slowly, feigning reluctance and shock, “but he was using a different one today, Barbat. He left it in the barn.”
Malduk reached into his pocket and pulled out the curving Turkic blade Alina and Mia had seen in the house, before Ranna had wiped that blood off her hands. He held it up innocently.
“That’s Bogdan’s!” cried Barbat. “I’d know it anywhere. The changeling’s the killer, all right. He must have murdered Bogdan for his knife, or simply because the changeling hates humans.”
Alina couldn’t believe her ears—or her eyes. The villagers began to shout and curse, and the soldier put his hand to his sword and in the barn Mia could see that Alina wanted to go outside, to confront the injustice of it all and speak up for herself. The little girl grabbed Alina’s hand and shook her head furiously.
“I can’t believe it,” whispered Malduk outside. “After all our kindness, and with my little niece Mia in our home too. We’ll hunt him down all right.”
“No,” cried a voice suddenly. “It can’t be Alin. He wouldn’t. I know him too well.”
Alina’s heart leapt. It was her friend, the old shepherd Ivan, who had pressed forwards from the throng. Ivan had a wise, open face, which
“But I promised never to leave you, Mia.”
“Promises only matter if you try to keep them, Mother told me. Sometimes you can’t, that’s all,” the little girl said with the strength and practicality of a born peasant. “I’m safe with my aunt and uncle, at least, but you’ve got to go, and quick.”
Alina nodded, finding courage in her little friend’s brave words, then started moving about the barn, gathering up her few humble possessions. The little girl helped her pick up her bits of clothing, a pack, and the parcel of food she had brought her earlier, and at last Alina was ready.
But with that they heard two more voices outside. The children peered through a crack in the barn door and saw Malduk running back into the yard and, trotting alongside him, one of the soldiers they had met earlier. The one who had spoken of Achil.
“You’re safe from the Turk, for now at least,” said the soldier, bringing his horse to a stop. “And Stefan’s men are roused. But you must look to your loved ones.”
Malduk was regarding the man very nervously, for he hadn’t expected to meet him on the track at all.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
There were shouts and the group of villagers from neighbouring Moldov, the men Malduk had spied before, came crowding down the path, and into the yard. They had burning tapers in their hands and their mood was ugly. They were hunting. At their head was a shepherd Alina recognised, called Barbat.
“What’s wrong, men?” cried the soldier.
“Sculcuvant,” answered Barbat, “the changeling. Where is he?”
Alina’s heart was suddenly pounding fast enough to burst. What now?
“I … I don’t know,” answered Malduk. “He was sleeping in the barn, but now he’s gone. Perhaps into the fields. Why, man, has he stolen something?”
The villagers had often accused Alin of stealing things.
“Stolen?” cried Barbat scornfully. “What do we care about theft, Malduk, when this is murder?”
In the darkness of the barn, Alina’s knees went weak.
“Murder?” hissed Malduk, with glittering eyes. Ranna’s plan was coming good.
“We found Bogdan on the edge of the village, facedown in the snow,” said Barbat, “with this in his back.”
Barbat reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife with an antler-handled dagger—Alina’s own dagger. In the barn the girl felt as if a thousand furies were suddenly rushing at her, and she clutched at Mia’s arm. Ranna and Malduk had murdered Bogdan.
“It’ll break his wife’s heart,” said Barbat. “It’s his, ain’t it, Malduk? Alin’s.”
“It looks like his, yes,” answered Malduk slowly, feigning reluctance and shock, “but he was using a different one today, Barbat. He left it in the barn.”
Malduk reached into his pocket and pulled out the curving Turkic blade Alina and Mia had seen in the house, before Ranna had wiped that blood off her hands. He held it up innocently.
“That’s Bogdan’s!” cried Barbat. “I’d know it anywhere. The changeling’s the killer, all right. He must have murdered Bogdan for his knife, or simply because the changeling hates humans.”
Alina couldn’t believe her ears—or her eyes. The villagers began to shout and curse, and the soldier put his hand to his sword and in the barn Mia could see that Alina wanted to go outside, to confront the injustice of it all and speak up for herself. The little girl grabbed Alina’s hand and shook her head furiously.
“I can’t believe it,” whispered Malduk outside. “After all our kindness, and with my little niece Mia in our home too. We’ll hunt him down all right.”
“No,” cried a voice suddenly. “It can’t be Alin. He wouldn’t. I know him too well.”
Alina’s heart leapt. It was her friend, the old shepherd Ivan, who had pressed forwards from the throng. Ivan had a wise, open face, which
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