Chapter One: The Monster

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her name was Tia. And she had been taken to the prison weeks ago for an unspeakable crime.

All the guards who handled her wore long hard collars and gloves, and were equipped with deadly weapons—but she mostly sat in solitary confinement. She was not a local of the land, obviously having come from a distant island some said where demons still practiced rites to the Sky Lord and worshipped him. Her skin was dark, a deep island tan kissed from the sun. Her hair was a mild brown, though, and not black like the island natives, and her eyes were blue as sky itself. Some said she was a demon. Others, a monster. But the only truth known about her was that she used to work for the lord of the underworld, the crime lord of the city Calcumum, and she was found standing over the body of a dead police officer, breathing heavily as if she had been in a long race, clenching her teeth, blood dripping out of her mouth. The man below had his throat bitten out.

No one talked to her in the prison. On the rare occasion when she was let out for exercise, she remained in chains, surrounded by guards. The other inmates moved away to the farthest edge of the yard when they saw her, afraid that even her glance could kill.

Once a bird flew into the prison yard when she was there. A pigeon. Tia cooed at it, and the bird flew towards her looking for food. But the moment the guards saw her do this they chased the bird away, yelling and screaming. As soon as the bird had flown off for good, never returning, they turned, shook their heads at Tia and said, “Oh, no you don’t.”

She glared at them with clenched teeth.

There was a rumor throughout the prison that the underworld lord wanted Tia back and was planning a jailbreak to get her out. What she was to him, no one knew. She was not fabulously beautiful, though she was exotic. She did not seem strong or capable of any skilled fighting like the famed demon hunters, though some guessed that she could possibly be a witch though it was very unlikely she was a wizard. Some people said she merely passed messages for him or stole things for him. Either way, rumor had it, the lord of the underworld picked up Tia when she was just a child, ragged and begging in the streets for food, not even ten years old.

The only reason there were such rumors going around at all was that she was still alive. It wasn’t just the law in the city of Calcumum that those that kill are immediately executed. It was the law for the entire nation of Brein Amon. The death penalty was what kept killers in line. It was swift and fierce justice. The people feared it, and even the lord of the underworld did not dare murder unless it was untraceable. So the other prisoners wondered why Tia had left alive? That was the question. That was the fear. She was a of the slave race even. No one would hesitate to stone a slave to death in Calcumum. Besides, they also wondered why did the lord of the underworld want this girl back when it would obviously implicate him in that murder?

That was what the girl herself was thinking, leaning her head against her knees in her freezing cell that autumn day, pulling her legs to her chest and shrugging her arms to her sides to keep warm. The police transporter would come soon to transfer her to the higher fortress prison in the capitol city of Danslik, over 300 leagues from there. They hadn’t told her what would happen after that.

Her mind went over and over it. 

Why did they let her live? It would have been more merciful to kill her then, rather than having her languish in the prison, shivering with cold and wondering why she did it.

Why had she killed that policeman? Why didn’t she run away?

Tia closed her eyes and tried to re-live it in the back of her mind. What made her do that evil thing? Why did she bite out his neck?

Then she remembered.

She had been a dog, more wolfish than tame, and she was roaming the streets on business from her lord. He told her not to assume an animal shape, but no suitable human came by. In the end this dog came along, and he seemed right for the task. No one would notice her as a dog.

But that one policeman did notice her just as her time was nearly up. She would be human again, and he would see her. But why did she kill him?

The image of those last moments flashed in her mind. She lifted her dead eyes to the bare wall across from her. He had struck her, deciding to torment a stray, and he would not leave her alone. She had been a dog, and she bit out his throat with a dog’s fury. But then she was human again, tasting his blood with the realization of what she had done. So she let them take her. She believed they would kill her for her crime, and her cursed life would be over.

However, here she was in prison, and of course the guards would not let her near any other people. What did they think of her? What did they know of her? Did they know what she was? Did they know of her curse?

Tia closed her eyes and hugged her knees tighter. Her earliest memories were dim, but she recalled living in a happy place, a warm place once. What drove her from there? Why did she leave that heaven?

That memory was faint. She only remembered running away and ending up on the streets of Calcumum. How she survived, she didn’t know. Perhaps she lived on pure light. There were times she felt like that. But she did remember when the lord of the underworld found her. She was begging on the street, petting a cat that had just eaten a mouse. Then she became that cat and chased mice for her supper. The lord saw her scampering about and called to her, “Tia. Tia.” And she ran to him. How he knew who she was, she did not know. But he took her home as a cat, and she remained with him as a girl.

He always told her never to turn into animals. So she obeyed, thought it was tempting to touch a bird when she wanted to fly away. That’s what she tried to do in the prison yard. Tia wondered if those guards had thought she was going to eat the bird. She smirked. As a human, she had human appetites. But as an animal, she felt and desired as an animal. Hers was a gift, the Underlord used to say, patting her on the head. She had smiled and listened to him since he fed her and never beat her.

Looking up at once, Tia recalled it. That was why she ran away from home. Someone beat her. A mean fat woman with lots of rings on her hands. Tia had not cleaned something well enough. Was it her mother that beat her? Closing her eyes and trying to focus on the woman’s face, Tia shook her head. No. Her mother had black hair. This woman had brown hair. This woman was also fair skinned.

She blinked. She had been a slave. Tia recalled it now. A pale man bought her when she was three years old, taking her from her warm island—the home of her dreams. She was then taken north to serve a lady in some city, but not Calcumum. It was here that she learned about her curse, or her gift as the Underlord said.

She had been feeding one of the pigs, and she patted it. When she touched it, a feeling surged in her, and she wondered, rubbing the back of the pig as it ate. The feeling grew and suddenly she knew what it was like to be a pig. And touching it, she felt as if she could almost be a pig—in fact, be this pig. Desiring to try it, she had put both of her hands on the pig. The pig itself fainted under the strain, but she was no longer Tia the slave but a large sow standing outside the fence.

Absolutely happy, Tia the pig ran around the farmyard, digging around for truffles, digging in the garden for carrots—fresh ones—for potatoes, for anything she could get her snout into. She ran through the mistress’s house, squealing for joy, and she saw the mistress run at her with a broom, shouting, “Tia! Tia! The pig’s got out you wretched girl! You did not close the gate!”

But as a pig she scampered into the barn, trying to hide from the mistress’s broom. And there she started to feel that she was coming back into herself.

That was where the mistress found her, dirty and wretched and lying on the straw. Her mistress beat her severely that night. Tia did not have dinner or breakfast, and she had to do her chores, smarting painfully—being hit every time the mistress saw her.

But that was only the first. Another day she became a chicken, and with feathers flying everywhere, she gave the mistress quite a chase. It became Tia’s new game to change into what animal she liked, putting the animals to sleep each time as if sucking out their life for that moment and replacing them. They never died, but the farm animals feared her a great deal once she set her fingers on them, skirting away from her thereafter. Of course, she also had been beaten so much for her defiance and disappearances when an animal would run amok and the mistress had to chase it.

But soon all the animals were afraid of her, and even the cow would not let her milk it. And when she tried, the cow kicked over the bucket each time. So, at ten years of age, the mistress beat her and hurt her for the animals’ fear of her. But on that last day, Tia looked at her mistress and thought, I have not yet tried this one.

So, after a hard beating, Tia gripped her mistress’s arm as if to beg for mercy. Yes, she remembered it now. But she did not beg. Instead, Tia became her mistress, and her mistress stared in horror as she saw her own figure grow from her slave, strong, fat and with her same dress and rings. Then Tia saw her mistress collapse to the floor.

Looking around, she thought she could play mistress now. But in her head she heard the thoughts of the woman. She felt the woman’s pride and her conceit. She also knew the woman’s fears. The woman was terrified of Tia. That was why she beat her so often. The woman knew from what people Tia had come from, the Sky Children, and Tia never forgot it.

But her childish heart also fled when she became that woman. Her desire to play mistress and beat the woman that had abused her changed to a desire to flee for her life. The woman had dreamed of coming to Calcumum since she was a girl, so Tia decided to go there herself. According to the woman, it was city of opportunity—paved with gold and silver, and even the rats on the street were fat and happy.

She arrived in Calcumum as a little girl once more barefoot and sore and very hungry, the duration of her gift only lasting a few hours. Tia looked for those fat rats and saw nothing more than dirty stone streets and a strong division of people in the hill top city. She first tried to find work as a servant, but the people turned her away because of the color of her skin—usually saying, ‘We don’t take runaway slaves.’ Some said, ‘Go back to your island.’

They all seemed to know where she had come from, and all regarded her with disdain. The people of the city had higher respect for the lords of Maldos—who were richly dressed men with charcoal black skin who sold jewels and pearls to the merchants in the city. Even the sly copper skinned barterers from the distant land of Hann were treated with more respect. Tia had seen some slaves, all islanders with the same rich brown skin as hers, but unlike her they had hair as black as coal and brown eyes as dark as wells. They ran errands on the road wearing the worst rags. None of them looked her in the eye.

So she fell to begging. She also resorted to scrounging in the form of an animal. She found she craved transformation at times, so perhaps all the rumors around the prison were true. Maybe she was a demon or a monster. Everyone she touched she hurt. Every animal she used ran from her in fear afterward. From every animal, or from every person, she drew away thoughts, feelings and experiences. Tia often wondered what she gave them in return.

She knew the lord of the underworld loved her gift, but Tia had come to hate it. She hated the world being afraid of her. She also hated some of the thoughts she absorbed when she drained people and became them. Their malice, their jealousy, their lusts and petty thoughts all swarmed around in her head, sometimes indistinguishable from her own identity and hopes. Her lord had her steal hours from people then hide them in closets. Then she would sneak about their homes and steal from them, knowing combinations to safes and locations where things were hidden. He had made her a thief. His tasks grew more dangerous day by day, and the people of the city talked of a demon that stalked them, making people lose hours and have nightmares. She often wondered what she made them see when they were unconscious.

Leaning against the wall of her prison cell, Tia closed her eyes and wished once more the police had killed her. Her head was so full now of other people’s pasts; their own foul deeds, their own corruption. Though she purposely forgot most of their personalities and lives after committing the act and returning to herself, some memories remained because they were so poignant. Often she did not know when her own thoughts ended and theirs began, and she felt relief when she could drain the simple empty thoughts of an animal just to clear them out.

But the Underlord did not like her clearing those thoughts out. He wanted to use them for blackmail. A double theft. He had become most powerful using Tia as his sneak thief. So perhaps that was why he wanted her back. But why did the government keep her alive after she had committed that murder? And further, if they truly thought she was a demon?

It kept tormenting her.

Why was she alive? Why was she alive! Why didn’t they execute her?

She stood up and walked to the window. It was only a slit in the stone. She had to stand on her tiptoes to see out. It was sealed with a glass and doubly sealed on the outside so that the room itself was nearly airtight. No insect could get in. Tia had never tried being an insect before, but she had no doubt they figured she would attempt to become one to escape.

Outside, through the glass, she could see the gray sky above. She could not see the city towers below. She could not tell if the police transporter was coming up the steps or was even within the prison walls. The seconds stretched into hours in her mind. Tia fell back to her thoughts as she stared out into the gray sky, wishing more than ever she had caught that bird in the prison yard. But of course, then they would have seen what she could do and known for certain she was not an ordinary slave. That alone frightened her. After all, the police themselves had not seen her transform, only those on the streets.

The door opened. Tia turned, hearing the creak of the brass hinges, lifting her eyes to the man in the crisp suit and high collar standing with the door guard. He looked her over, staring mostly at her shining bright eyes that stood out against her dark skin.

“You will come, and keep your hands at your side,” the man said.

Tia let out a resigned sigh. He had arrived.

The door guard wearing long gloves as well as a hood to cover all his flesh except for his eyes, stepped forward and pulled out his prod. They never touched her except with that prod, and it sent a jolt of electricity through her each time they did.

“I’ll come,” she said and stepped forward.

The guard stood between her and the police escort, keeping a fixed eye on her as she walked through the doorway. 

But Tia kept her arms down. She kept her head up. Looking around and trying to remain aware of ways of escape without looking too conspicuous, she walked into the hall. The walls were stone. The steps were tiled rock. The corridor was entirely filled with soldiers armed with prods like a gauntlet. Seeing that, she knew for certain they were taking no chances with her.

The police escort walked behind her with the door guard. Ahead of her, another guard, carefully hooded, walked. There was no way she could even slip a hand under his collar with how perfectly sealed up it was.

Through the compound they went, down the stairs, through the long corridors, and out into the other prison areas. The other prisoners watched from their open caged cells, clenching the bars as they stuck their faces between them to get a good view of the captive. Tia felt a twinge of jealousy that they at least had each other to bicker with in the late hours of the night. She had no one. She had nothing. Not even normal human contact.

The procession passed by the cells. The prisoners inside threw out jeers, brave under protection. The calls echoed against the stone, mingling like enormous crowds of contempt for her. Of course, had Tia been free those jeers would have been screams of fear. She had heard those in the outside yard when she had been let out for exercise. But that thought brought her no satisfaction—only pain and sorrow. Her gift was a curse.

They passed the guards’ many gates and then the warden’s office, walking down the last bare corridor to the outside. Emerging into the open courtyard, she saw guards standing along the walls to lead her to the very car they were to enter. They opened the door to goad her in. She gripped the top edge of the doorway and paused.

Tia looked up at the gray sky above Calcumum, drew in a breath and sighed. There were clouds in the sky. On the roof she could hear the cooing of doves. She looked up at the gray tile where she saw a flock on the roof of the prison—very common for most big cites in Brein Amon. Sitting among the doves was a small man.

He grinned at her.

His grin widening, the man threw down a shower of grain into the courtyard, sprinkling over the guards and Tia. Many of the guards ducked, cursing as they as the white and gray cloud of feathers and feet fluttered to the ground around them.

“Get her in! Get her in!” the guards shouted, one shoving the prod in Tia’s side with a large jolt.

Tia toppled inside onto the back seat of the car, reaching out for anything to hold on to. Kicking her legs in, they slammed the car door shut, locking it.

“Ow!” they heard Tia yelp, glaring up at them through the thick glass.

The police transporter ran around the vehicle front, yanking open the door and jumping inside. He glanced back once to see Tia pounding with one hand on the window that divided them. Shoving in the key, he strapped on his seat belt then swiftly turned the ignition. The vehicle engine rumbled, the car shaking. Rolling across the open prison square, he drove off. The birds scattered away from the charging car.

The police transport car roared down the main road from the center of town, hastily turning with the winding curves as it spiraled down to the main gates. The driver glanced back only once to see their prisoner still pounding on the window. Satisfied, they passed the guards to the city gates, rolling out onto the road highway. But the pounding soon changed to tapping. Tapping, tapping of the beak of a bird. A pigeon had somehow got inside the car. Tia had gone quiet.

The driver blinked, staring through his rearview mirror. He slowed to maintain control of his vehicle as looked back for better inspection, but Tia was not there.

Slamming his brakes, he then quickly pulled on the emergency brake and stared at the back seat. The girl was gone and only this bird remained. He looked out his rearview mirrors, hastily unbuckling his seatbelt. And with a shiver of fright, the man struggled with his door handle with a jerk to it open. The moment he hopped out of the car he ran back down the road, drawing his gun as he looked over at the tall fields of grass that grew in the farms around the vehicle.

“No hiding, girlie!” the police escort called aloud.

Nothing but the swishing of grass answered.

Shaking his head, he turned and walked back to his vehicle. His eyes on it, he halted on the road. Then he ran.

One of the windows in back was entirely shattered. Pawing the side window, he then peered around and inside. Nothing was in the back seat but one unconscious pigeon.

Getting into his car, he cursed loudly. Immediately he released the brake, committed a U-turn and drove back into the city to inform his superiors of her escape.

Two men crawled out of the grass, watching after him. One petted a pigeon, and then released it to fly away.

Chapter Two: The Underlord

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The lord of the underworld was a powerful man, a lean man, and a shrewd man. He did not look rich, and in public he did not live rich. The people of the city of Calcumum thought he was but a humble bread maker. In private he was a different sort.

When he lived as a baker, he dressed commonly. He looked jolly and kind, and he went the name of Hil. Everyone knew him as jolly Hil Baker, the son of Bunn Sweets—a sweetshop owner a generation ago. His reputation preceded him as a simple man who wouldn’t blink wrong at a policeman, let alone cheat on his taxes. No one suspected him of anything worse than tossing out old bread to the beggars.

The government of Brein Amon knew how dangerous the Underlord was. Hunting him here and there, looking among the dirty wretches of the city as well as among the aristocrats, they always missed him. His identity was safe simply due to one fact. No one knew his true name. Not even his own lackeys in his organization. Even if one or several of his operators had been caught, Mr. Hil Baker could never be identified as the Underlord. They had never seen him as that man. No one had, except Tia.

Tia had learned his identity by accident. In fact, it was how she first met him. She was a cat at the time and was sneaking mice from his baker’s cellar. In the age when Tia was starving and begging as a little girl, Hil Baker gave her a bread bun and told her to get away from his shop because she was bad for business. She had gone to his cellar as a cat several times, and each time as a different cat so she could still catch mice unsuspected.

One day she had followed him as a cat down the street hoping to get some fish or a piece of old mincemeat pie. But the day she followed him, she learned that he was the Underlord. She had overheard him meeting with one of his thugs who had just returned from harassing a local shopkeeper. That was also the day he picked her up and called her by her real name.

She did not know how he knew she was the cat. But he did know, and he picked her up to take her home—but not to the baker’s shop. His underworld dwelling became Tia’s new home. There he fed her and cared for her and claimed her as his own.

His underworld dwelling was greater than anything Tia had ever seen before. Not even the mistress’s home had been that nice, and her home was nearly a palace with rooms and land as far as could be seen. It took her an entire day to cross the mistress’s land on the way to Calcumum. But this place was more than a palace. It was a city under a city, and all the Underlord’s.

Tia wondered as she flew back over the city as a pigeon if perhaps he freed her because she knew his name. Not that she would tell, and not that the guards asked, but she wondered it all the same. Tia knew the government of Brein Amon would kill to know the whereabouts of the Underlord so they could put an end to him. And when she flew home among so many of the city’s pigeons, she wondered if possibly the Underlord might kill her too. 

She landed on a roof then peered over the streets where the barterers sold and bought. It was also where many of the men that worked for the Underlord passed by. She knew most of them. Her memory never let her forget anything she saw.

Down on the street, there were two walking with a heavy basket between them, carrying potatoes. Tia knew that under those potatoes was probably a stash of stolen goods, or possibly illegal imports from the Hann. She followed them, fluttering over the rooftops though she also listened to the cries of the city soldiers looking for her.

They turned into an alley.

Fluttering her wings, she perched on the potatoes and waited for them to notice her.

“Shoo!” One of the men waved his hand, trying to scare her off. “Get off! Go away!”

Tia fluttered up and settled on his head out of spite. She didn’t like him much. Never did.

“Get it off! Watch it!” that man yelled to his partner. He put his end of the potatoes down. Tia heard it clink on the stone. Flying up, she perched on a sign hanging near a door. She knew now that he was hiding some liquor, probably from Comar Bay.

The man picked up his side and continued on his way. Tia could already feel her birdishness falling from her, and she fluttered down near a rat she saw on the ground. This rat squeaked to get away. Possibly it was one she had touched before but she grabbed a hold of it with her suddenly human hand. Her feathers vanished. She was kneeling on the street now, holding the rat.

It took Tia some effort to catch up with the men. As a rat she had to run to keep with their long strides, but as a rat she also had lots of energy. However, also as a rat she had to work harder not to be seen, especially at the gates of the underworld.

Catching up with the smugglers, she jumped into the basket, this time squeezing in with the potatoes unseen.

“My Lord,” Tia heard a servant say to Hil as they neared his hall. “The Sky Child is free. They set her loose, and she has flown towards the city.”

“Good,” said the Underlord. “She will either come here, or they will find her and kill her. Either way that is good.”

Tia-the-rat shook. Of course he would consider both good. She knew he was right. She knew she was feared enough that the police would not halt at killing her. But then why didn’t they kill her in the first place?

“But sir, why didn’t they execute her in the first place?” The servant voiced her question.

“I’m not sure,” the Underlord said.

“We know,” one of the men carrying the potato basket answered.

Tia-the-rat listened.

“Well, speak. Why did they not kill the demon that has been haunting their city?” the Underlord said. “These days the hunters kill them on the spot.”

Peeking out and sniffing the air, Tia looked at the man to see who he was. It was man she did not know personally.  She crawled back down in the potatoes so they would not spot her.

“They know what she is, and they think they can get the treasure of Sky Lord,” the man said.

“The treasure is a myth,” the Underlord said dismissively, flicking his hand as if to shoo them away.

“The merchants of Hann don’t think so. And for that matter, I heard that the Patriarch of Brein Amon wants her to help them find it,” the man said.

The Underlord laughed. “Then the Patriarch of Brein Amon is a greater fool than I thought.”

He dismissed the men.

Hefting up the basket again, they carried their load to the kitchens straight away, potatoes, sloshing bottles of wine, rat and all.

As soon as they put the whole load on the table and started to unpack it the rat jumped out of the basket. She started to run for a crack in the wall to hide in, but upon seeing her, the cook screamed.

Both men in the kitchen scrambled to get brooms, whacking the table and chairs and anywhere else she ran. Tia scampered faster than they could strike, but unfortunately the underground room was nearly seamless and she could find no cracks, no holes and no escape from their attacks.

Still, something filled Tia like fire. Now that she knew why she was alive, she wanted to know more. There was a treasure. Fine. But even the megalomaniac Underlord did not consider it worth his while to find it. That was not what fueled her flight anyway. It was what Hil said, what he called her. Tia had to find out why.

They tried everything they could to kill the rat—pots, pans, rolling pins, broom handles—but this rat jumped, running fast as if it had rabies and wanted to infect the world. She ran up the broom handle as one of the men tried to swat her with it. Pouncing she jumped on his shoulder, biting his ear.

“Ow! You stinking rat!” He batted her away, but the rat jumped off as quickly as she had bitten him. He clamped his hand to his ear, pressing against the bloody welt.

Scurrying out of the kitchen, the rat’s little claws scraped on the stone tile. She squeezed under the door into the hall. They chased her out, running right back to the main hall where the lord of the underworld sat, commanding business to go forth before he went off back to his bakery.

Going to the one she hoped would save her, Tia scurried to the base of Hil’s throne then scrambled up with her claws. She jumped onto his lap and then clawed up to his shoulder, clinging and shaking for life.

“Rabid rat!” one of the men shouted, still clutching his bleeding ear and swinging his broom.

But Hil got over his shock, blinking at the rat that rested there. He reached up to pet her. “You have returned.”

Rat Tia nodded and climbed down his arm.

“I told you not to do animals, Tia. It frightens some of my men,” he said.

Tia nodded again with a squeak, climbing now onto the arm of the chair.

“Is that rat her?” the man with the broom exclaimed. “I thought she was going to escape as a bird?”

The Underlord smiled as he glanced at Tia. “You changed early. It seems your gift has increased. Doesn’t it usually take you hours to change back?”

It was true. Tia had only been a bird for a half hour. She had chosen to be a rat. Then the thought occurred to her—still a rat in mind, but herself also—possibly she did not have to wait until it wore off.

Taking a breath, she concentrated. In front of their eyes, Tia reemerged from the rat and stood before them, climbing off the arm of the chair, blinking her shining blue eyes at the men as she shook out her prison attire.

The Underlord nodded in approval.

But Tia no longer trusted him. She looked into his brown eyes, seeing his underhanded desires behind them.

“You do realize they will hunt you,” Hil said to her, speaking some of his thoughts aloud.

Tia blinked and then nodded. “You said they wanted me alive for some treasure.”

The Underlord laughed, but the laugh did not reach his eyes. “Myth, my dear.”

“Who

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 21.02.2018
ISBN: 978-3-7554-7865-2

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