Changeling (Illustrated) Read Online Free PDF

it.
    “ . . . Have to get a wise man to exorcise the demon now,” he overheard a woman saying. “Don’t no one touch it. You kids stay away!”
    “Fools!” he muttered, and he struggled to rise.
    A small hand on his shoulder pushed him back.
    “No! Don’t draw attention to yourself! Just lie still!”
    “Nora . . . ”
    He looked up. He had not at first realized that she was there, holding a compress to his head.
    “Yes. Rest a moment. Gather your strength. Then come back this way between the houses.” She gestured with her head. “We’ll move quickly when we do.”
    “They didn’t understand . . . ”
    “I know. I know. It was like the horse, when we were children . . . ”
    “Yes.”
    “ . . . Something you just thought up because you think that way. I understand.”
    “Damn them!” he said.
    “No. They just don’t think the way you do.”
    “I’ll show them!”
    “Not now you won’t. Let’s just get ready and slip away. After that, I think it might be a good idea for you to stay out of sight for a time.”
    He stared at the burning wagon and at the faces beyond it.
    “I suppose you are right,” he said. “Damn them. I’m ready. I want to get out of here.”
    She took hold of his hand. He winced and drew it back.
    “I’m sorry. It’s burned,” she said. “I hadn’t noticed.”
    “Neither had I. It will be all right, though. Let’s go.”
    She clasped his other hand. He rose quickly and moved with her, past shrubs, beyond the houses.
    “This way.”
    He followed her down a lane, through a barn.
    When they paused to rest, he said, “Thank you. You were right. I’m going away for awhile.”
    “Where?”
    “South,” he hissed.
    “Oh, no!” she said. “That’s too wild, and—”
    “I’ve got the name,” he stated.
    She stared into his eyes.
    “Don’t,” she said.
    He reached forward and embraced her. She was stiff for a moment, then relaxed against him.
    “I’ll be back for you,” he told her.
     
    The trees were smaller, the land was drier here. There were fewer shrubs and more bare areas. This land was rockier and much, much quieter than his own. He heard no birdcalls as he walked and climbed, no insect-noises, no sounds of running water, rustling boughs, passing animals.
    His hand had stopped throbbing several days ago, and the skin was peeling now. He had long since discarded the bandage from his head. His tread was firm despite weariness, as he neared the anvil-shaped peak through lengthening shadows. He wore a small backpack, and several well wrapped water bottles hung from his belt. His garments were dirty, as were his face and hands, but he smiled a tight smile as he looked upward and plodded on.
    He did not feel that there were demons and assorted monsters in the area, as some people believed. But he bore a short sword across his pack—one he had forged himself years before, when he had been shorter and lighter. It seemed almost a toy now, though he could wield it with great speed and dexterity. He had spent months practicing with blades to obtain the feeling for edged weapons which alone would ensure his producing a superior product when he came to forge them. He had picked his up at the smithy when he had returned there for the supplies for his flight. Now, hiking closer and closer to the forbidden area, he felt no great need for the blade in what he took to be a dead place, but its presence made him think of the effort which had gone into its manufacture, yet had still produced an item inferior in quality to some of the strange fragments of metal he discovered imbedded in the ground here.
    He carried such a scrap in his hand and studied it now and again. He saw it to be some sort of tough, light alloy, once he had scraped and rubbed the dirt from it, uncorrupted after all these years. What were the forces that had formed it? What heats? What pressures? It told him that something peculiar had once existed nearby.
    That evening he walked