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

“Now!” the hunter shouted, dropping his sword tip in a swipe.

Hundreds of loud popping sounds exploded into the air with clouds of smoke. Chains of firecrackers snapped everywhere, dropped from the rooftops of the village as the men cheered from their hiding places. Tia spun around, watching the shower of red paper fall like confetti in a parade that so often ran down the boulevards in Calcumum. The Goles howled in agony, scrambling for shelter back up their hill.

“Chain up the house!” the hunter shouted.

Crowds hiding in the edges of the farmyard ran up with the broken gold strands and new red paper spells to hang on them. They wrapped them around the old farmhouse, twice, and then a third time. All the while the giant man-eating demons yowled in pain. The firecrackers continued to explode until there was nothing left but ash and red paper.

Tia felt a claw dig into her shoulder. She looked over at the face of the bird demon. It grinned, pulling her back. “Now it is time we leave.”

It lifted its huge wings, flapping hard. One gust and they were in the sky.

“Damn!” the hunter shouted below. He took out his bow again, grabbing for an arrow.

“We will be out of here, and you will be my new host,” the demon said.

Tia felt his emotions surge through her. It was not just a demon but also a parasitic beast that inhabited the village patriarch. It would abandon the empty shell of the man and take over her body if she did not do something fast.

The bird demon fell with a jerk, suddenly weak. The hunter’s arrow missed, flying just where they had been in the air. Feathers, painful and poking, covered her like a wave. The demon’s claw flinched in its grip. It squawked and then cried out as a man, “What is happening?”

Two bird demons fell down toward the village square. The crowd stared upward, pointing.  The hunter readied another arrow.

A heap of feathers hit the ground. One bird demon hopped up, glaring hungrily at the people. But it did not have the advantage. The villagers encircled the open area, the demons, and the hunter, holding plowshares, swords, and muskets.

The hunter stepped forward, drawing his sword.

“Remain still,” he said to both heaps of feathers.

The prone one did not move. The other one hopped back, fluttering its wings.

“I said, don’t move!” the hunter shouted.

The conscious bird demon launched into the sky. Skimming over the rooftops, it headed back towards the mountains to the east.

Howling, the hunter ran forward swinging out his sword with a chop, lopping off the heap of feather’s head that still lay on the ground. Black blood oozed everywhere, leaving a stain in the gravel that smelled like tar. What was left after the pile of ooze melted away was nothing more than a man without a head.

Almost in synch with the cutting blade, a shriek spilt the sky above. The feathered demon plummeted, crashing to a rooftop on the far edge of the village. It grabbed its neck as if feeling the pain of the hunter’s sword slice through. The wings fluttered off, evaporating as if a dark cloud of smoke, leaving a girl that was now clinging to the ridgepole.

“I said not to move!” The hunter let out a huff, wiping his sword in a red cloth that had gold writing stitched into it. The black stain vanished upon contact. “Now get down here so we can go to Danslik.”

Tia looked up at him. Her eyes fixed on his approaching image in anger. “I am not going to Danslik!”

He shook his head, frowning at her. “Do you really want me to come up there and make you? Now play nice, and I won’t have to resort to force.”

She glared, clenching her teeth. The parasitic bird demon’s thoughts still filled her mind, and she hated everything about him. She knew what he was now. He was a Cordril hunter, a half-demon like she was. What he could do, she yet did not know, but Cordril hunters were just as feared as Sky Children were among the humans. He was human, and yet not. Demon, and yet not. And this particular one was feared by nearly every bird demon as a slaughterer of thousands of their kind. To go with him would mean her doom.

“Come on now,” he said, sheathing his sword. They were still a good distance away.

Tia recoiled.

Sliding down the roof tiles to the ground on the other side of the building, she stirred up the group of feeding doves pecking in between the houses on the road. Tia smiled with a glance at the birds on the street. The hunter would have to run around the houses to get to her, gaining her some time.

Panting, the hunter skidded around the corner, kicking up gravel. The village men followed after him, watching to see what this hunter would do to defeat yet another demon. But when they got there, they saw the hunter fall to his knees.

“Damn!”

The hunter stroked the ground full of seed then looked at the doves that fed. He gazed up at the sky. Several birds flew in formation, and some entered the forest beyond. He frowned.

Getting to his feet, he kicked the dirt as he turned. “She’s got away. Help me load my pack so I can go after her.”

The men stared at him. “The Sky Child has gone? Do you know where it went?”

Shaking his head slowly, the hunter sighed. “I only know where she is headed.”

They gathered back at the village square. As the hunter set fire to the headless corpse he received payment for eradicating their parasite problem. Twelve silver pieces. It was a fair price, especially since they had lost several men to the bird parasite, each with their heads eaten out. And since they were unable to discover where the demon had been hiding on their own, afraid it would nest; these people did not think dealing with a Cordril was unreasonable in this case. They were only sad that their village patriarch had been the demon parasite’s last victim. The tragedy of it was that it had first come to the village inhabiting the body of a demon hunter that had failed to kill the demon crow in another town. It had the perfect guise until the Cordril hunter had come.

When the Cordril hunter left with his sword on his back and his pack full, the village breathed easier.

The city of Harmas was much like Calcumum. It sloped upward in to a hill and had levels of cobblestone roads leading toward the main commerce district. It was a rather long trip by foot from the mountain pass out west, but by the main mountain road that tunneled through the range, it was an easy ride. By train, it took only a few hours. By plane it was just a hop from Calcumum. Tia took neither.

As the bird flies, the trip to Harmas was an exhausting trip. Doves did not fly long distances at a time if they could help it. Though some people still used them as messenger birds, all Tia really felt like was getting a good rest. She borrowed the life of a crow for the second stage of the flight, hoping to pass over Harmas and then travel closer to the shore at the bay city of Stilson.

Tia-the-crow landed on a tiled roof, resting on the flat top. Pigeons fluttered at her presence eyeing her darkly as competition for food and a threat to their nests. She cawed as she hopped closer to the edge, away from their perch. Looking down into the road, Tia peered at the traffic.

Food sellers had their wares spread out on cloths for people to buy. The narrow alley was crammed full of people, walking front to back. Some slowly rolled their bicycles and scooters through, honking to let others know they were coming, but they moved no faster than the pedestrians. Not until they got to the wide road would they be able to ride with their motors. Meat sellers chopped on boards in front of the buyers, showing the freshness with pride. Little paper fans spun overhead with dangling cloth strips, whipping around to bat away flies. She could smell food carts roasting meat, steaming bread and frying bowls of rice and wheat. The spices lifted into the air making her sinuses burn. Smells of curry, saffron and sesame toasted with olive oil and onion intermixed with sweet smells of candied sugar, cinnamon, and cloves. Her mouth watered. She did not realize it until too late that she was no longer bird salivating for food on the rooftop, but a girl again hungry for human food.

“What are you doing up there?” an annoyed dowager snapped, stuffing the shopping bag that was slung under her arm. “Get down this instant! You are filthying up the roof!”

Tia obeyed, but not without struggling. She slid down the tiles to the edge, dropping barefoot to the ground. She wrapped the cloak the village patriarch had given her around her prison uniform, especially hiding the numbers across her chest. Luckily it was large enough to cover everything.

The woman placed her hands on her hips with a glare at her. “Lazing about when you should be finishing your master’s marketing? For shame! Now git and do your work! Or so help me, I’ll report you to the authorities and have you shipped back to that island you slaves come from!”

Blinking at her, thoughts raced in Tia’s mind. Would they send her back? That certainly would make her journey easier. Or would they recognize her for who she was? That seemed more likely. Tia decided not to risk the exposure. She bowed politely to the dowager, as she would have done to her former mistress, then squeezed into the crowd as if to obey her orders. The woman swatted Tia with her bag to make her move faster. Tia did not look back until she was sure the woman had gone on her way.

The sellers glared at her, making deals with higher-class servants of the regular Brein Amon stock. Middle class shoppers carried their purchases, almost strutting from one place to the next with a satisfied feeling of independence. There were also a few island slaves among the buyers, but the sellers rebuffed them just for spite, often treating them like dogs rather than humans. Passing by them, Tia felt a sense of pity grow on her. Unlike them, she was free. Hunted, but free.

Watching the slaves as she passed through, she noticed that they were not very different from the ones in Calcumum. They never looked up. They cowered, bowing and scraping to get what they needed. Most did not look anyone in the eye—even each other. These people were without hope. At least with the Underlord she had been given some dignity. He had not treated her like a slave. Gazing at these, the surge of pity grew stronger. She had an advantage over them. At least she could touch a bird and fly away from the pain. 

Reaching the