Sky Lord by Rowan Erlking (that summer book .txt) 📕
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- Author: Rowan Erlking
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“What?” Tia stared at him, not entirely understanding what he just said though she was growing irritable at how casual he spoke.
Jonis leaned forward. “Ok. I take it that was too much information for you. Let me sum up, my people and your people are not too different. My people hunt your people, because we both come from the same place.”
“The island?” Tia looked at his pale skin and fair hair, shaking her head.
He grasped his head with a light moan. “Eat the bread. It is obvious that your blood sugar is too low for thinking today.”
She glared at him, but she did as he said. Her hunger agreed with his command, so much to the point that she no longer felt lethargic but angry.
Sisrik returned only once. He glanced in at Tia who was sleeping on the ground, laying her head in her arms, and then at Jonis who took his old watch posture with his sword on his legs, hilt grasped in his fist. That hunter crossed over and laughed. “She can’t run off you know.”
Jonis raised an eyelid. “Do I look like I’m watching her?”
The bounty hunter snorted, grabbing a few things from his pack. “I don’t know what it looks like. Do Cordrils get their thrill being so close to their prey?”
The Cordril hunter stood up, propping his sword in his hand like a cane. “Thrill? Sisrik, how many other Cordrils do you know?”
“Oh, uh,” The man scratched his chin, rubbing the length of his neck. “Maybe four.”
“Maybe four?” Jonis repeated shaking his head. “You don’t know for sure?”
Sisrik snorted. “I’ve suspected many to be Cordrils, though you are the first I’ve met that actually admitted to it.”
“There is less than that still alive,” Jonis replied darkly. He then looked over at Tia. “She is the first Sky Child with abilities in generations. Cordrils don’t lose the ability. We just die out because people are too scared of us to join our numbers. The fact that she exists intrigues me.”
“Are you thinking that she is a sign of things to come?” Sisrik asked him, walking over and peering at Tia who was indeed deep asleep now.
Jonis twisted his mouth in thought. He slowly shook his head. “No. My ancestors killed off those that could pass on the gene. I think either she is a new Sky Child of another generation, or we missed a few.”
“New generation?” Sisrik’s eyes grew wide. He stared down at Tia. “Are you saying that the Sky Lord has returned?”
That received a snort from Jonis. “The original Sky Lord? I doubt that. He should have died thousands of years ago. No. Not that. But maybe another one.”
“Another one?” Sisirk looked back at him. “You mean from up there into the darkness out of this world, don’t you?”
Jonis said nothing, looking down at Tia.
“We never did find out what is up there beyond the atmosphere curtain.” The bounty hunter scratched his chin again. “The magisters say that space flight is impossible. Just imagine having to bring air up into space and then running out.”
“Yes,” Jonis murmured ruefully. “Just imagine it.”
He slumped back against the wall. Sisrik watched him though he also glanced at Tia sleeping. The slit of her skirt lay open, allowing her legs to just hang out with no protection. A smirk spread across his face. He walked over and hissed into Jonis’s ear, “I think you sit and watch her because secretly you want get a little bare skin time with her.”
“Touch her bare skin, and you’ll be staring at your own face,” Jonis replied, closing his eyes.
“Yeah, the police picked up a man that apparently tried to have a go.” Sisrik walked back to the door. “They arrested him on indecent exposure charges because he was out in the buff next to a family diner, screaming a demon stripped him.”
Jonis chuckled, folding his arms across his chest as he gazed on Tia. “Good for you.”
Sisrik paused, watching the Cordril hunter close his eyes once more. The bounty hunter narrowed his gaze, murmuring to himself. “Two demons, one bounty. If he weren’t a government hunter, I’d chain him right now. He’s gotten too dangerous.”
Tia awoke sore and not at all rested. She used her bag as a pillow. Sisrik did not take anything of hers away until the second day when he pulled long cloth tubes onto her arms, securing them to a halter then strapping them crosswise around her body in a hug.
“There,” the bounty hunter said, standing up while lifting the end of the gold chain by the bell. “Now you can’t touch anyone. Not that you can sneak off, anyway. This chain works regardless of the form you take. Now come with me and don’t dawdle or the chain might choke you.”
He led her by the thread thin gold, pushing aside the curtains so she could pass. Jonis had taken her bag, peering in at the cloak and then also the knife. Jonis smirked, stuffing both articles under his arm. He followed Sisrik to the car outside.
“Sorry, Jo—only room for one,” Sisrik said with a snort, opening the passenger side to climb next to Tia. The driver was a policeman of Harmas. With him was the first transporter Tia was supposed to have traveled with from Calcumum. That man turned to look at her.
“So, you thought you could escape the law.” The police transporter smiled triumphantly, giving Sisrik an appreciative nod. “The Patriarch of Brein Amon has been kept waiting too long.”
Jonis stuck his head next to Tia’s side. His blue eyes did not have the usual mischievous sparkle. He stared at her and said, “I will join you all up at Danslik.”
He then looked directly at the others so they could not mistake his intentions. Jonis put on a pair of sunglasses as he stood back from the vehicle. Tia saw an involuntary shudder run through the police transporter.
Sisrik only snorted, calling to the driver. “Drive on then.”
No one spoke the entire ride. Tia had nothing to say, feeling her doom strangle her like the gold chain about her neck. Sisrik snored on the seat next to her, clenching his bowie knife in one hand and the end of her chain in the other. The police transporter and the driver kept their eyes on the road, making sure no one got in the way this time.
They traveled out of the city then down into the valley. Heading back to the north, they did not take the mountain tunnel that crossed into Northern Brein Amon. Their route was up the switchbacks winding around the mountain leading directly to Danslik, past the cities of Marchal, Gibbis and Roan. Danslik was at the top.
At the skirts of the city they slowed down. The roads into the city were many, but each had gates that closed at night. As they approached the city, they halted only twice: once when the police transporter paid the city toll to enter, and the second time when they passed through the gates to the Capital Hall. Tia had never seen a city quite like it. Not that Danslik was organized differently than Calcumum or Harmas, but that its walls were cut from white stone, shined and smooth like the snow on the peaks. She had to squint from all the white blindness she was experiencing. Sisrik put on sunglasses.
Tia could not see when the transporter opened the door. She only heard the bounty hunter call for her to get out. Sliding across the seat, still led by the chain, Tia scooted until she could place a spiky heel onto the stone.
“Did you bring the Patriarch a demon or a whore?”
Tia could not see the source of the voice.
“A demon dressed as a whore.” Sisrik’s voice joked, laughing. The chain pulled tighter. Tia staggered forward to keep from choking. She suddenly saw his shadow near her face, blocking out the blinding light. He loosened the chain around her neck with his gloved finger. “Your eyes will adjust.”
They crossed the square. Tia still couldn’t see. And when Sisrik pulled away, he called for her to follow. Doing the best she could, Tia walked where she felt the chain tug.
Her sight was suddenly restored when she found herself on the threshold of a large open door. Blinking, she noticed that all the men had sunglasses on.
Tia’s face burned, feeling cheated for having to stumble around sightless, but she soon forgot it, staring into the most amazing place that even the Underlord could not conceive of.
Enormous. Marble. Smooth. Tall. Elegant. Opulent. Towering.
Even these words could not brush upon the impression that flooded over her. This was her nation’s capital? It was beyond imagination. Why in the world did the Patriarch want more? He had everything.
Sisirk pulled the chain forward.
Tia jogged to keep up, tapping on the tips of her toes to stop herself from slipping. Her heels eventually clicked against the smoothed stone, echoing in the chamber like applause for her arrival. Down at the end of the hall was a long table set width-wise across the dais. A metal chair lined with pouf pillows stood in the center of the row. No one sat in it. All places behind the table were empty, but a man with a clipboard stood at the left end scratching notes out in pen.
“The Patriarch will see you in his advisory room. He is taking tea there.”
The policemen clicked their heels and bowed. Sisrik merely turned with a nod, pulling her along.
They passed through the left doorway where they entered the long hall. Pristine and carpeted gray-blue, the hall had many off-shooting doors. Some were open. Others were sealed shut with a cross bar set down. The open ones had a few workers inside discussing politics, raging in debates, and few were actually getting work done, agreeing on resolutions and signing documents. In one room they passed, Tia saw a flute quartet playing while a performer danced to the tune. The dancer was adorned in traditional festival clothes with long sweeping sleeves that dragged on the ground. She could not even see her hands they were so draped. Tia recognized the dance. In Calcumum, they performed these near winter festival. She blinked as they pulled her away, wondering if it was already that time of year. It couldn’t have been that long ago since she had left Calcumum. Tia frowned, wondering what else she had missed.
“Make her sit over there.” A servant at the door motioned to a spot in the center of the long room.
Tia blinked, feeling the chain lead her past a doorjamb. She glanced around, blinking at the bright light that shone through the curtains along the wall. Along the opposite wall were paintings of all the previous National Patriarchs that ruled before this one. Sitting in the end of the long room was the Patriarch himself.
Sisrik forced her to kneel, dropping the bell to the floor. It tinkled, adding weight onto her shoulders as it pulled her down.
“Pay the man,” the Patriarch said, waving his hand towards Sisrik.
A servant standing next to the Patriarch marched forward, handing over a tray with a red velvet bag on it. The bounty hunter lifted it off, happily feeling the weight.
“That is the sample. The rest will be placed in your bank account in Sundri as you requested,” the Patriarch said, resting his wrists on the arm of his chair.
Sisrik bowed his head low. “You are too magnanimous, Your Grace.”
The bounty hunter took
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