Sky Lord by Rowan Erlking (that summer book .txt) 📕

The three hours were nearly up, but she could still hear his thoughts in her head—all his envies, all his darkest wishes. After knowing what was on this man’s mind, she didn’t want to stay on his land longer than necessary.

Herself once more, Tia crossed through the grain, walking barefoot though she wished she could have kept that farmer’s clothes. She still had the food but nowhere to put it now. The prison suit did not have pockets.

With the sun high, sweat dripped down her neck. Tia reached yet another field, leaning to rest on the wooden post that acted as a border. She sighed, feeling her bare feet throb from tramping over rocks and sticks. They had callused for city work, but it really was not enough. Looking up, she took a bite out of the chunk of cheese she had removed from the cupboard.

“That is stolen,” she heard a voice say to her right.

Tia jerked around, looking upward and squinting in the sun. His face was in shadows, and his silhouette was obscured by the brightness behind him. The man stood on the fence pole, drawing a long broadsword from an enormous sheath strapped to his back.

“Who are you?” Tia took a step from the fence.

The man pointed his sword down at her, making the tip not farther than three inches from her nose. “I am the hunter. You will come with me now.”

Tia dropped her cheese and dashed into the high grasses.

The dark shadow leapt down from his fence, his boots scraping into the soil as he tore after her.

“You cannot run, Sky Child!” 

She did not need to run. The tall grass hid her well enough and walking was preferable. Tia crouched, listening to the air. His boots crunched in the soil, but not loudly like a soldier’s or a police’s would. He was indeed a hunter. Just the way he followed let her know that no simple escape would get her out now.

“You are coming to Danslik with me, as planned.” The man walked slowly with his sword brushing the grasses aside where he looked. Tia could not see him. She could only hear his voice and his movements. His shadow got nearer. Her heart started to pound in real fear.

“Do not fight me. Fighting only leads to despair.” The hunter swiped some grass to her right. His shadow was tall, taller than she was—and forbidding.

The grassed rustled to her left. The hunter crossed, shooing out pheasants where they had been feeding. Upward the birds scattered. One landed near her knee. Tia quickly placed her hand upon it.

“Come out, and I won’t hurt you,” the hunter called again. He swiped the grass over Tia. Nothing but a pheasant flew out. He looked down. Another pheasant lay as if dead on the ground.

He sheathed his sword.

“So that’s how you want to play it.” He pulled out his bow, stringing an arrow onto it.

The arrow zipped into the sky, shrieking with a piercing whistle. The entire field of birds scattered, including Tia who found that her bird ears were ringing from pain. She fluttered further across the field, anything to get away from this madman.

“Ah, ha!” The hunter tucked his bow onto his shoulder, leaping through the grass and slinging stones into a leather strap. “Let’s have some pheasant, shall we?”

The stone rocketed, striking the clump of grass to her right. She could hear his feet thunder over the grass towards her. Flapping high once, Tia lit to the opposite fence.

“There you are,” his low voice murmured.

Her bird heart was going a mile a minute now. She did not fly far, spotting the one thing a pheasant did not want to see—a cat. But instead of fleeing the stalking animal in the grass, she dived straight towards it.

On four legs, Tia dashed through the grass, flicking her cat tail as she sped away to the clump of bushes not far from the fence.

“Why you sneaky little…” she heard the hunter murmur. She saw him standing where she had left the cat’s body. He lifted his head, brushing back the hood of his brown traveling cloak. Peering out with periwinkle blue eyes so unnaturally vivid, the man turned around to survey the scene.

“And where would a cat go?” His voice had a lilt to it, sounding like he was having fun. Her cat heart beat as she watched from her hiding spot. This man was definitely no ordinary person. She could see him now. Sandy brown haired, nearly white skinned, leanly built—he was not a native to Brein Amon. His bright blue eyes were as foreign as hers. And his lack of rough features made her think he was perhaps from the colder country above Greater Gull, in the fiords of ice and snow. They had no mountains there.

The hunter turned his head and then walked straight for her bush clump. Leaping out, Tia clawed his face, pounced on his head then jumped over into the grasses. She ran for the nearest tree.

“That was uncalled for!” He wiped the bloody scratch that ran across his forehead. “You are making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Tia climbed up the trunk, clinging to the bark with her claws. He lifted his bow, taking out an arrow again.

The tree was full of birds. Big ones, small ones, black ones, blue ones, ones with brown feathers and ones that were pure white. It was a cat’s restaurant. However, as he drew back the arrow, Tia knew he would try to drive the birds away. She scrambled her way up as he pulled back the string. He smirked, narrowing his eyes at the cat in the tree that was climbing up with a jaguar’s ferocity. Then he let the arrow go.

The air split with a shriek. The birds scattered, left and right, and many straight up. The cat jumped against its nature, leaping into open space, reaching out with its claws.

The hunter stood back to watch.

No cat fell. A bird fell.

“Damn!” she heard the hunter shout, running below—but not fast enough as the bird flies. This time, not bound by weight or size, Tia flapped off into the blue sky, heading towards the mountain gap, singing as she went.

 

Chapter Four: The Fence

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sky was getting rough. As a bird, the wind currents made it difficult to go anywhere.  She had hoped she would make good time, reaching through the southern mountain pass before nightfall. Tia had flown over fields and houses until the land was barren of human settlement and now filled with only wild growth and woods. She rested once in the trees, looking for another bird form to take. Her three hours had been spent and switching for another fast bird was her only option now that a hunter was on her trail. He would catch up to her if she went on foot.

The storm tossed her as the wind pressed against her feathers, blowing and yet not at its full strength. She fluttered over a medium sized village below, clustered near the mountain pass. Doves huddled on the rooftops near their hutch. She saw a woman look up into the sky in the middle of the village square, holding her shawl to herself as the wind pushed the dark clouds closer.

Tia-the-bird flew over, fluttering to the farthest farmland to rest her weary wings. She looked down as she flew, glancing once at the strange ramshackle fence that surrounded the hill the home stood alone upon it. The fence glittered gold with hanging chains and tattered red paper that had black and gold writing on them. There was no gate. It was curious to see, but she was too tired to inspect it closer. Instead, Tia flew over and landed on the gabled roof.

“Ah! What a pretty bird,” a chocolate-coated voice said from below.

Tia twittered, looking down at the figure below.

It was not the hunter, which brought her relief, but it was not human.

The owner to the chocolate sweet voice had a large boulder-sized body, slumped shoulders with hanging arms that could drag on the ground if he stooped any lower. His skin was the color of ash, and his eyes were beady black pebbles sunk into his carved face. He grinned at her with its broad teethy mouth, cooing thickly as he reached out a gentle, yet fat, finger. “Pretty bird.”

She had only heard of them in stories. But the stories she had heard made her remain on his roof.  It was a Gole.

“Come on. Come down,” the Gole said. His voice was as sweet and tempting as all the desires in her heart for comfort, food, shelter and love. Her birdish side wanted very much to land on his finger, her mind filled with visions of food and company. She did not move.

The Gole lowered his hand. “Stubborn, ain’t ye.”

His voice no longer sounded like it was offering chocolate.

He narrowed his beady eyes at her. “Come on down, ye thing. I’m hungry, and ye ain’t flying off in this wind.”

Tia felt her body shudder. Her birdish form was melting off, and she knew that it was not want she wanted to happen so close to a Gole. The feathers shed first.

“Well, I’ll be,” the Gole murmured, placing his chunky hands on his tanned leather hips. “What kind of demon do I have here for dinner?”

She still clutched the top of the house, clinging to the ridgepole.

The Gole tilted his head. “Be she vegetable or mineral, I ain’t never seen a bird demon like you before. Whereabouts are you from?”

Tia swallowed, peering down at him. “North.”

He laughed, sticking his thumbs under his belt. “North she says! Come on down south, my sweet.”

His voice was now peaches and cream. Tia felt her heart race in her chest. Her mouth watered for some food, and he sounded so nice. Still, the old memories of the many lives she had borrowed shouted out at her that he was deadly.

“Ye look tired. Ye need rest,” he said. His voice was like a warm blanket with a cup of hot chocolate waiting for her.

Tia slid down the roof side, dropping to the ground at his feet.

The Gole smiled down at her. His feet were all she saw. They were shod with leather, laced with woven hair in shades of black and brown. The animal skin was tan—and not a species that she was familiar with. Looking up at his knees she saw his breeches were also leather, as was his waistcoat and tunic. All of it was sewn together with human hair.

He placed his heavy hand on her shoulder, his thumb against her neck, lifting her up onto her feet. The Gole’s smile widened, his black eyes sparkling, and his tongue peeking out through his rough jagged teeth. “Come into my home, sweet thing.”

His voice was like warm bread.

But shivers ran down from where he touched her, livening Tia’s senses. His skin against her skin, she started to hear his thoughts. She looked up at the creature, watching his eyes as they sparkled, reflecting his ten-thousand-year hunger that had yet to be sated. She was his next meal.

In that moment they looked eye to eye. His eyes glittered at first, and hers looked up in fear. But then his