The Wanted Child – Chp 1 – part 2

Posted on October 23, 2012 by

Aneeka Posted in Chaos Series, Uncategorized, Wanted Child

She glared up at the tree as though blaming it for the lack of help. The true culprit would be her god—he loved giving her the hardest, and sometimes most pointless, missions—but he also kept her parents safe. She had to complete every mission, no matter how difficult, or she’d never see her family again. She stomped the ground in frustration.

A hollow ringing answered back.

Two quick glances across the barren, darkened land confirmed she was alone and unwatched. Her right hand formed her god’s sign while she stretched her other hand out, palm down and fingers spread. Her scar flared bright red, and she swept her left hand upward.

Clumps of dirt flew up like startled pheasants and hovered a foot above her head. In their wake sat two slabs of wood covering an entrance. A triumphant smile spread across her lips. Keeping her left hand up, she reached down and dragged one of the slabs open, revealing a narrow staircase and a red haze blocking the entrance. A barrier—a rather powerful one, too.

Not happy to decipher a barrier, especially if designed by an intelligent demon, she hovered her right hand above the red haze to analyze the energy. To her relief, it was god-based—Tsui, the Low Fallen god—and the barrier’s purpose was to keep out demons, something she was not. At least, not yet.

Ignoring the barrier—which ignored her just as equally—she eased down the steps with her left hand still up and dragged the slab closed. Once it clicked shut, she let her hand fall. Instantly, thunder roared as the clumps of dirt buried the entrance again.

Once the dirt settled, she faced the darkness, the scent of moist dirt and tree roots flooding her nostrils. No sound drifted up the staircase; neither the scent of human, demon, or anything else. Frowning, she reached up to her scar and tapped it thrice, then once more. It flickered with light and a red glow shimmered over the dirt ceiling and narrow stairs. Roots from the tree above bulged in the dirt walls and dangled in front of her face like an army of miniature sea jellies. Ducking below the roots, she navigated down the steps until they ended in a small landing. Before her stood a simple wooden door wedged into the dirt. She frowned as her light danced over two wooden figurines pressed into the dry soil above the door. One tall and straight while the other fat and round, they represented the Fallen gods Nak and Tsui. Their glassy eyes stared down at her just like their counterpart statues had when she’d groveled for their help four years ago—cold and without pity.

Squatting on her heels, she brushed dirt from the foot of the door. To her relief, she found a piece of wood etched with a picture of a gagged mouth below sightless eyes—the symbol of her god. Tavk, the third and last brother of the Fallen Gods. Only he, out of the nine gods, had agreed to save her family. The second worst god to serve, but then, the best and highest god had sought her parents’ demise. Tavk was the only one willing to defy that decree. Even if his missions were deplorable, she’d do anything to keep their bargain.

Kissing two fingers, she pressed them to her scar and laid them upon the carving. Air rushed as though the room had sighed; a loud crack followed. The wooden door swung inward, and firelight spilled out. Boisterous laughter and deep voices echoed from within, and the scent of hot food drifted to her nose.

Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of the several meals she’d skipped the past two days. Straightening up, she tapped her scar; its light died. Satisfied, she pushed the door’s opening wider and stepped into the short and brightly lit tunnel.

At the end lay the real tavern. Smaller than the sagging building above, the room stood eight feet tall and easily encompassed five tables, a bar accompanied with shelves loaded with liquids, and a small stage. Lamps swung above the tables, shedding surreal firelight—a demon’s power. She drew back into the shadows and glanced at the bar. Behind the massive shelves, lay a hint of a door, presumably leading to a kitchen and most definitely a demon’s lair. Yet the air lacked the vibe of fear. This tavern must have found a calm demon. That’d explain why they hid underground. A calm, human-friendly demon was a prize worth killing for and these humans didn’t want to attract such deadly attention.

She stepped out of the tunnel and focused on the occupants of the room. Gaunt men in easy conversations huddled around each table, mugs either in hands or on tabletops. A thin, middle-aged bartender with white hair stood behind his bar, absorbed with cleaning the rack of used mugs in front of him. Unsurprising, she noted she was both the youngest as well as the only female there.

“Whoa,” one of the men called out, raising his mug to the bartender. “What you put in this? I’m seeing a girl!”

“This the entertainment you’ve been promising?” another called out.

“I haven’t seen a woman since I got banished here!” “Here here!” I bet it’s a demon trick!” “Should we kill it?”

The bartender whipped out two long knives that gleamed blood-red—god-blessed metal—from beneath his apron. “Hey missy,” he said as he strolled around the bar, both knives pointed at her. “Either you’re very lost or soon very dead, but we don’t handle little girls here. This is a private guild. For Fallen Tsui.”

Her hand edged toward her bag, where her own knife lay. “My god directed me here. For business. I won’t leave until I’m done.”

The men hooted at her defiant reply. The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Claiming to be a Servant, eh?” He shook his knives; their crimson gleam glowed brighter. “I serve Tsui and I’ve controlled this tavern a long time, nearly twenty years now. You still want to fight me?”

She gripped her knife handle, her legs bending to a slight crouch. “No. You can keep your tavern. My god wants something else.”

“There’s nothing else here, missy. To which god do you dare claim?”

“Tavk.” She touched her nose with her right hand and covered her mouth. Her scar flared a bright scarlet while his knives dulled to a pitiful red, justifying her claim.

A shocked hush swept through the room. Hands flew as each signed a prayer to their god. None signed to hers.

The bartender swallowed hard, and his knives disappeared beneath his apron. “R-right, then, come on in.” He waved vaguely to one of the tables and bustled to the false safety behind his bar.

Holding her head high, she strode calmly and deliberately toward a table with an empty seat. It soon had five as the former occupants abandoned the table, scampering for other seats. She hid her grimace and slid into a chair. For their sake, she pretended to fix her hair and stare at the empty stage as though fascinated by it. A tense silence resulted, but as she continued her disinterest in them, the air lost its chilled hush. They got the hint—she wasn’t after any of them. As another moment passed, chuckles echoed from a table near the wall while another table resumed its earlier conversation.

Still fussing with her pigtails, her eyes darted to the table nearest the stage. One of the men playfully punched another, his eyes teasing. Across from them, another man ruffled his friend’s hair while the others laughed.

Envy rose, unbidden. Friends.