Read Online The Crowfield Demon by Pat Walsh - Free Book Online

hob’s antics.
    â€œThe creature should be tied to a fence post before he does himself some real harm,” Shadlok said, but there was the ghost of a smile on his lips.
    When dinner was over and the monks were safely out of earshot in the church, William played his flute for Shadlok and the hob. He had been practicing a carol that Shadlok had taught him and was feeling quite pleased with himself.
    â€œThat was an improvement,” Shadlok said, nodding. “You no longer sound like a scalded cat.”
    William glared at him. “Thank you.”
    The fay’s light blue eyes gleamed with amusement. “Again. And this time, try and play the notes in the order I taught you.”
    William lifted the flute to his lips. In spite of Shadlok’s faint praise, he knew the fay was pleased with his progress. He was an able pupil, and Shadlok was a good teacher.
    William began again. The now familiar tune was lively and quick, the kind he remembered people dancing to on the green back home in Iwele. Step, stamp, step, stamp to the right, then one step to the left and stamp again, over and over, the dancers moving in a circle, hands linked, breathless and laughing, and trying to keep up as the tune got faster and faster.
    There were no dancers today, just the sharp-eyed fay and the hob, who was sitting on an upturned pail and keeping time with the music by hitting its side with a stick. The hob’s small face was creased into a wide grin, and his ears twitched. His tail flicked from side to side, the tuft on the end brushing across the ground.
    Shadlok nodded when William reached the end of the tune. “Better. Your timing is good and you played only two wrong notes. But that is enough for today. The monks will be finished in the church soon.”
    William nodded. These smuggled minutes were all too short, but he could not risk the prior finding out what he was doing. He cleaned his flute and returned it to its leather bag.
    â€œMore music tomorrow?” the hob asked hopefully.
    William smiled down at him. “Perhaps.”
    The hob looked pleased. “That’s good. I will hide your flute in the snail brother’s hut until then.”
    After the hob had gone, William showed Shadlok the holey stone. “The hob gave me this.”
    â€œA seeing stone,” Shadlok said. “Have you used it yet?”
    William nodded. “I saw something over by the church yesterday.”
    He had the fay’s full attention now. “Oh?”
    â€œI saw the body of a deer hanging from an oak tree, and an old woman with gold bracelets.”
    Shadlok’s face was set and tense. He said nothing, waiting instead for William to continue.
    â€œI think I saw the sacred grove that grew here before the monks came,” William went on. “I think the old woman was Dame Alys’s ancestor.”
    Shadlok’s jaw tightened. His pale eyes were troubled. It was a while before he spoke. “I should have guessed . . .”
    â€œGuessed what?” William asked.
    â€œDo you remember the bird-headed creature you saw in Dame Alys’s hut last winter, and what I told you at the time?”
    â€œYou said that it was once an angel,” William said. He paused as the fay’s words came back to him in full. “You said it was evil and that the angel we found last winter had come to hunt it down.”
    â€œI believe it is one of the Fallen, banished from the Creator’s side at the dawn of the world,” the fay said softly. “For whatever reason, it came to the forest, and the people who lived here worshipped it as a god. But it did not leave this place or fade away when the monks came and cut down the trees. I believe it is still here.”
    William stared at Shadlok in growing horror. That’s what was in the church? A fallen angel? The image of the crow-headed angel in St. Christopher’s chapel slid into William’s mind, and his heart began to beat