Fell (The Sight 2) by David Clement-Davies Read Free Book Online Page A

a fine silken dress in a hazel thicket, left by the fairies, and been seen by the handsome son of the village elder at festival, who had searched for her and taken her away to a better life. The boys had laughed at Alin cruelly for telling such a stupid, girly story, but wise old Ivan never laughed at Alin.
    Alina’s remark about a changeling might have made Mia think of the mysterious parchment, but she was feeling very sorry for her friend, and instead she had another thought entirely.
    “Well, if you really are a changeling, Alina,” she whispered, with a grin, “a goblin child, I mean, then perhaps you should teach my aunt and uncle a lesson.”
    Alina looked up in surprise.
    “A lesson? What on earth do you mean, Mia?”
    “Oh, nothing too bad, Alina. But couldn’t you use your powers to stop them? Cast a spell or something. To make them kinder.”
    Alina sat staring back at Mia, little knowing how badly she needed such a power that terrible night. If the sense of things that sometimes really did happen was a power, it was a very faint one. And though Alina had no idea where all the stories she wove came from, she didn’t see it as magic as some of the other children did.
    Yet when she had been sad or hurt or frightened, she had often had the same thought herself. She would tell herself then that she was the daughter of a goblin queen, born in the heart of a magic flower, and suckled on honeydew, and could punish any who wished her harm, at will. That she could make their noses grow longer or their hair turn blue, that she could stop their voices with a wave of her hand, or make weeds sprout from their ears.
    Yet Alina was fifteen now, and with time she had realised that she could do none of these things. She still asked herself whether that meant that she was no changeling, or simply that there was no magic in the world at all. In truth, at times she didn’t want there to be any magic, because the one thing that Alina Sculcuvant wanted above all others, and with all the strength of her passionate heart, was to be a normal girl.
    “No, Mia. I couldn’t do any such thing,” she whispered gloomily. “Besides, do other children fare any better than me?”
    The two children wondered at that strange thought. They had no idea how children beyond the village lived their lives.
    “But they never stop scolding you,” said Mia indignantly, with all the deep sense of injustice of the young. “Even when I do something wrong, they punish you for it. It’s just not fair, Alina. It’s wrong. My parents would never … ”
    Mia’s little blue eyes were suddenly wet with tears, and Alina sat up and hugged the little girl, feeling bitterly resentful that children should so be in the power of adults.
    “We’ve each other, Mia,” she whispered kindly. “Always remember that. And I’m fine. Really. Don’t you trouble yourself about a changeling. I’m no more important than anyone else.”
    Mia sniffed and wiped her eyes.
    “You are. And at least you get to learn some wonderful things as a boy,” she said encouragingly, as Alina lay back again, and Mia reached down gingerly to touch Elak’s nose. “Things that ordinary girls never usually do.”
    That was true enough. Malduk had taught “Alin” to count sheep on the mountains and read the seasons, to slaughter a lamb for festival and make Teela and Elak herd the dumb sheep about the valleys. To Mia these things made Alina seem as special as any goblin maiden, or the hireling of a fairy king. But although Alina always told herself that she should be grateful for it, with such useful knowledge came Malduk’s constant criticisms and threats, which only added to the deep sadness in poor Alina’s heart.
    “Though who would really want to be a boy?” added Mia hotly. “They’re always arguing, or fighting and bullying each other.”
    Alina smiled again. As she had sat by their fires listening to the shepherds, and deepening her voice to convince them she was a