The Changlings (The New Earth Chronicles Book 2)

by J. J. Thompson

  He'd been amazed at the place and had wandered through each room in awe, wide-eyed and delighted. Sarah had not wanted anyone else to stay with her except her best friend and Bobby had been honored by her invitation.

  “There is no way that you just happened to find this place,” he'd said as he had glanced at the painting of the old man with suspicion. “Something wanted you to live here.”

  “Like what? God?” Sarah had asked derisively. “There is no God, Bobby. If there was, He wouldn't have let the dragons destroy our race. No, it was just luck, and I'm good with that. So what do you think? Do you want to move in?”

  He'd stopped and looked at her in disbelief.

  “Are you serious? Of course I want to move in! But, you know what the others will say. They're not gonna be happy that you won't share the camp with anyone except me.”

  “I don't care,” she snapped. “I may only be ten, but I'm my own person. And all of them know what I can do,” she had added ominously. “They had better not try to take over my place or there's going to be trouble.”

  Sarah smiled to herself at that memory. She'd been a rather pushy and loud-mouthed girl back then. She would never admit that to anyone except Bobby, but it was true. Now though, she had learned to be patient and she worked better with others. Mostly.

  She searched through the debris under her feet as she walked and picked up a half-dozen round pebbles. She slipped them into a pocket for later.

  “Going to make some of your magic rocks?” Bobby asked as he watched her.

  He had taken off his sunglasses once they had descended into the garage and his eyes were huge in the shadows. They reflected the light of Sarah's stone like a cat's.

  “I'd better. We need a faster way to talk to the others, with the goblins crawling around again.”

  She sighed tiredly, holding up her glowing stone as the two of them slipped through the last tight gap before reaching their camp.

  “But that means that we'll have to do that whole trip to the others' camps again in a day or two. Ugh.”

  “It's the only way to give them the stones,” Bobby said practically. “So that's what we'll have to do.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  They reached the bottom of the garage, the deepest section that ended at their hidden door. Sarah held up a hand to stop Bobby before he could walk past her.

  “Wait. I want to make sure that it's safe. Hold this, please.”

  She handed him the stone and he raised it high, illuminating the area as much as possible. Sarah walked forward slowly and turned her head to the left and right, feeling her way as she extended her power ahead of her.

  The magic wafted past her like a delicate, unseen breeze. She closed her eyes for a moment and sniffed lightly. Of course, there wasn't really a scent to magic, but it was her way of feeling the power.

  Nothing. Cement dust, cobwebs, rust. But no feelings of malignancy, no threats.

  “It's clear,” she stated as she opened her eyes again. “So far the goblins haven't found our place.”

  “That's a relief,” Bobby told her and gave her back the stone. “Let's hope they never do. Some of the camps have an emergency exit, but we don't. If those creatures find us, we'll be trapped.”

  Sarah smiled at him mischievously.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. There's always a way out of a bad situation. At least, that's been my experience. Remember Madam and her undead army? We were cornered a few times by them, but we always got away, didn't we?”

  She walked across the open space, about thirty feet, to where the door was. It looked just like the rest of the cracked, discolored cement wall on either side of it, but Sarah and Bobby knew it well.

  “Yeah, we got away, but that was mostly luck,” Bobby said as he followed her. “And the fact that the undead were really slow and stupid. Goblins may not be very smart, but they sure aren't slow.”

  Sarah laughed derisively. She put her hand flat on the proper spot on the wall and pushed firmly while she summoned her power. She had added her own magical seal to the origin locking mechanism, making the door even more difficult to find and open. She hoped that it would be enough to stop the goblins, if they ever reached this area.

  “No, they aren't slow,” she said as both of them stepped back to watch the door slowly open outwards. “But I think that they are even dumber than the zombies were. And since they don't have a lot of mages and wizards, who actually are smart, I don't think that one of them will show up down here, poking around in the rubble for a couple of street rats like us.”

  Bobby chuckled at that comment and nodded.

  “Yeah, you're probably right. But let's get inside and talk about it. It's gotta be dark out by now, and they'll be out sniffing around soon.”

  Chapter 8

  Bobby slipped through the narrow doorway and Sarah followed him. She grabbed the handle on the inside of the door and pulled it shut. The hinges squealed and she frowned at the shrill sound.

  “We're going to have to oil those soon,” she told Bobby as she magically re-sealed the door. “Goblins have very good hearing.”

  “Ah, right. I'll do it before I go to sleep, so that I don't forget.”

  “Cool. Let's go.”

  They walked down the short hallway, climbed down the metal rungs that descended the long cement tube and walked through another door into their home. Bobby hurriedly grabbed a box of matches on a table next to the entrance and began lighting candles and oil lanterns.

  Sarah put away her magic stone and took a deep breath. She smiled as the painting of the old man was illuminated by the candlelight.

  “Hello, old man,” Bobby said cheerfully. “Did you miss us? Sorry that we were gone for so long.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes, but said nothing. It was her friend's way to speak to the picture as if it was a person, and she found it kind of endearing. Weird, but endearing.

  While Bobby went through the rooms, lighting the candles and lamps, she walked over to the fireplace and knelt down to make a fire. A pile of scrap wood was always sitting next to the mantelpiece, and both of them brought back more pieces almost every time they came home from a scavenging incursion. Considering the amount of wreckage that there was up on the streets, and how much wood was used in the construction of the many houses and buildings that had been destroyed, they would never have to worry about running out of fuel.

  “What do you want to eat?” Bobby asked as he came back in and crossed to the storage room.

  “What have we got?” Sarah replied as she carefully piled scraps of wood into the proper shape for a fire.

  “Lemme take a look.”

  While he rummaged around in the storeroom, Sarah finished with the firewood and lit the kindling beneath it. All of the wood was very dry and ignited quickly and she sat back on the ground, hugged her knees to her chest and just watched the flames as they danced.

  “It's good to be home,” she murmured with a dreamy smile.

  “What?”

  “I said, it's good to be home,” she repeated louder.

  “Oh right. Yeah, I agree. Hey, we have a couple of tins of beef stew that look okay. Not dented so they should be fine. Do you want cola or orange soda with it?”

  “Orange, please.”

  One thing that never seemed to go bad was soda. The Changlings became used to drinking them warm, because refrigeration was only available in the winter, when they could leave food and drink out in the snow to cool.

  Bobby brought out the cans and the plastic bottles of soda and went back into the storeroom to get a saucepan and the can opener. Sarah did her part by getting up and walking into the bedroom to fetch plates and utensils. They stored all of these things in a small cabinet next to the bathroom door. It made it easier to wash them in the sink and put them away again.

  She noted with a stab of guilt that they were still low on plates.

  I have to stop having hissy fits and smashing things, Sarah thought as she carefully pulled out two plate
s and a couple of spoons from a drawer. It scares Bobby a lot. Scares me too, actually.

  She had only really had anger issues for the last year or so. Before that, she could be touchy, but not to the extent that she was now.

  Bobby indelicately suggested that it was because she had finished growing and was having 'woman issues'. He had spent a few miserable days sleeping outside in the garage for that ill-advised comment.

  Poor Bobby, Sarah said to herself. He has more patience and is more loyal than anyone I've ever known. I really don't deserve him.

  She walked back into the main room and found her friend kneeling in front of the fireplace, setting up an iron grating over the flames. Then he emptied the cans of stew into the pot and set it on top of the grate to heat it up.

  Sarah stopped and smiled at him, watching as he cooked their meal. Bobby's tongue stuck out to one side of his mouth as he concentrated on his task, something that she'd never seen before. It was adorable.

  He turned his head and looked at her in surprise.

  “What are you staring at?” he asked a bit nervously.

  “Nothing. Just thinking how nice it is to see your face again. Why we waited so long to take off our head coverings, at least in private, is a mystery to me.”

  He grinned and shrugged.

  “Habit, I suppose. You do something for ten years and it becomes second nature, don't you think?”

  Sarah walked over and sat down on the floor next to Bobby. She put down the plates and spoons and watched the pot heating over the fire.

  “I suppose so. Or we were just too scared; still little kids inside, afraid of insults from people long dead.”

  Bobby looked thoughtful. He took one of the spoons and stirred the stew to prevent it from burning.

  “Maybe so,” he replied. “But there is something else that's changed in the past year or so.”

  “Really? What?”

  He smiled at her as he took the pot off of the fire.

  “The magic has returned. It brought the goblins back, possibly, but it's also allowed you and the other magic-users to use your powers again. Maybe you're all just more confident now.”

  He poured the stew on to the plates while Sarah stared at him in astonishment.

  “My goodness, you're right,” she exclaimed in surprise. “How could I have been so stupid? That must be the reason.”

  Bobby sat cross-legged and began eating his stew with enjoyment.

  “Mm, this is good. It might be the reason, Sarah. Or one of them. The main thing is that we're different now, whatever the cause may be. We should move beyond it and focus on the more important things. Like those damned goblins.”

  Sarah began eating as well, slowly chewing as she nodded in agreement.

  “Yeah, that's the main problem right now. I'm not as worried about ordinary goblins, even the warriors, although they are incredibly dangerous. It's the mages and, even worse, the wizards that they might have brought with them. They might have ways of searching for us that we aren't even aware of.”

  Bobby stared at her in surprise.

  “I never thought of that,” he muttered. “With magic as strong as it is now, maybe they can sniff us out. Uh-oh, that would be bad.”

  “Let's not jump to conclusions,” Sarah warned. “I just said that they might, not that they can. We'll have to wait and see.”

  They finished their meal in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and Bobby took the dishes and cutlery to the bathroom to wash them.

  Sarah walked over to a couch, sat down and took the small pebbles she had gathered out of her pocket. She laid them down next to her and counted them out.

  “...six, seven,” she said aloud. “Perfect. One for everybody. Bobby?”

  “Yes” he answered from two rooms away.

  “Could you bring me that special nail when you're coming back in, please?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Sarah picked up each stone and rolled them, one at a time, between her palms. She kept her mind still and pictured her magic seeping through her hands and into the structure of the stones. She tried to bind herself with them, make them a part of her.

  How the magic actually worked was a mystery to her. She had invented the process back when the Changlings were still on the run from Madam and her zombies. They had been in desperate need of a way to stay in contact with each other without coming out into the open any more than they had to. And then the idea of using the stones just...came to Sarah.

  Bobby had thought she was crazy, of course. Everyone did. And she hadn't blamed them. Whoever heard of using pieces of rock as if they were cellphones? It was crazy.

  “Why do you even think this will work?” Bobby had asked her.

  That was back when none of them had found permanent homes yet and they were constantly on the move, trying to stay one step ahead of the lich and her followers. Sarah and Bobby had been hiding in an upstairs room of a tavern. Like many buildings in Ottawa, the dragon attacks hadn't actually destroyed all of it. There were no windows left in it, but all of the interior doors still closed and locked and the roof only had a few holes in it.

  They huddled together at night while the undead were active, staying as quiet as they could.

  “I don't know, Bobby,” Sarah had answered as she used a heavy, steel nail to slowly etch a symbol into the surface of a round stone. “Okay? I just don't know. But I dreamed this. I dreamed this symbol and I was told that it would let us talk to each other. So I'm going to try it. Why, do you have a better idea? Did you suddenly find some working cellphones? Or maybe you want to use smoke signals to communicate with the others? Or flags? Hmm?”

  In the darkness, and with his face fully wrapped up, she couldn't see Bobby's expression, but he sounded embarrassed when he replied to her.

  “No, of course not. It just seems so...weird, that's all.”

  “Oh? As weird as this?”

  She pulled out a round, fist-sized rock from inside of her robes and a blue glow, almost blinding in the total darkness, lit up the room.

  “Hsst! Put that thing away!” Bobby exclaimed fearfully. “Someone will see it!”

  Sarah smiled in satisfaction as she hid the rock again.

  “You see? If I can do that, then maybe the idea of speaking through the stones isn't crazy after all.”

  “I never said it was crazy,” Bobby objected. “I just said it was weird.”

  “If it works, then I don't care how weird it is. Now hush, I'm trying to concentrate.”

  And of course it had worked. Sarah had created the stones and given them to the leaders of all of the groups so that they could coordinate their movements to stay ahead of Madam and her undead army. And they had, mostly.

  A few of Sarah's friends had been caught. It was inevitable. There had been a lot more zombies than there were children and, unlike the Changlings, the undead never tired. The only thing that could stop them was daylight. They were creatures of the night and could only roam freely when the sun went down.

  And people made mistakes. They were, after all, only children. Even Zack, sixteen at the time, had little life experience. He had led them as best he could and had saved many of the Changlings from making fatal errors. But not all of them.

  Bobby walked back into the room and handed Sarah a nail. It glittered in the candlelight, it's tip wickedly sharp. He had spent a long time honing it for her, back before the magic had faded away, and it was ready to be used again.

  Sarah accepted it without comment and stared at the nail without really seeing it.

  “Do you remember Cindy?” she asked as Bobby sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

  He frowned at the question.

  “Cindy?”

  He looked blank for a moment before his eyes widened in surprise.

  “Oh, Cindy! Right. Sure, I remember her now. And Patrick. They were...”

  Bobby looked at Sarah with a grave expression.

  “Why are you thinking about them? What
happened to the two of them was horrible. And it was a long time ago.”

  “'Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it',” she quoted. “Remember Mr. Wells telling us that in the bunker, back in History class?”

  “Wow, this is quite the trip down memory lane, isn't it?” Bobby said with a crooked grin. “Yes, I remember the quote. Do you remember who was supposed to have said it?”

  Sarah tapped her lower lip, thinking hard.

  “Hmm. Hang on a sec, I used to know this. He had a funny name, didn't he? Yeah, um... George Santayana! I remember!”

  She giggled.

  “I just have to think of Santa Claus and his name pops into my mind.”

  “You got it,” Bobby said with a smile. “But your quote wasn't quite right. It's 'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it'. Mr. Wells drilled that into my head and kept correcting me until I got it right. So why are you saying that, anyway? There are no zombies left in the city, and we aren't as young as Cindy and Patrick were back then either. They made a fatal mistake because of their age and inexperience. We won't do that.”

  “Bobby, they were torn apart,” Sarah said bitterly. “As a lesson from Madam. She could have turned them into undead soldiers easily enough, but instead she had them killed horribly and then left a note for us on their remains.”

  With a loud swallow, Bobby turned away and looked at the dancing flames in the fireplace.

  “I remember. Why are you reminding me of that? Zack made us all come and look at them. As a lesson of his own, he said. I think that I actually hated him that day, especially because of what it did to the younger kids.”

  He looked back at Sarah.

  “And what it did to you.”

  “Me?” Sarah said, startled. “What do you mean, what it did to me?”

  “You changed that day,” Bobby told her. “You may not have realized it, but I did. Before you saw what Madam had done to those two innocent kids, you were still the old Sarah. You laughed a lot and liked to play games and, well, you were different, that's all.”

  Sarah was flabbergasted. This was the first time that Bobby had ever mentioned her reaction to that dreadful day. Not that it was surprising. Very few of the Changlings talked about the early days anymore, and how hard it had been just to survive.