Read Online My Black Beast by Randall P. Fitzgerald - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Randall P. Fitzgerald
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not
pronouncing it right. “— you have made for us a bad time. You
cannot be put to fault, I think. Not so much. More Marka. She is
trouble.”
“ Because she brought me here? It’s
not her fault. I followed her down so don’t do anything to her. I’m
to blame.” He pointed to his chest. “I followed her.”
The old man sat in silence for a short while,
processing the unfamiliar words and then spoke again.
“ No. There is difficultness with
your understanding of us. Marka is Brant. She must go with her
Brant so the other may come.”
“ The other?” He thought hard. “You
mean the boy?”
“ Boy! Yes! Brista. Is Brista. Of
his Brant. Marka must go with her Brant.”
The words all meant nothing but Lowell guessed
there was some group that Marka must have been a part of. He’d
already assumed as much from the tattoos but the old man at least
gave some broken context to the idea.
“ And where is her
Brant?”
The old man turned the words over for a long
time but did not answer.
“ Well?”
“ Gone.”
Lowell narrowed his eyes. Gone? What the fuck
kind of answer was that? Did he mean dead? The old man
continued.
“ She must also go.”
He fucking did mean dead. This son of a bitch.
Lowell lurched forward and swung an arm but the pain caught him and
dropped him harmlessly on the floor five feet away from the Elder
Werra.
“ Maybe you also go.”
Lowell looked up and caught the hint of a
smirk on the old bastard’s face. The door hummed again and slid
open. The guards returned, the old man stood, and they all left in
the little row they had come in, chair included.
The room turned quiet again except for the
occasional faint sound through the slit that let light into the
cell. Lowell wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Whatever
kind of magic these people were made of, he wasn’t, so opening the
door was a no go. The wall was made of stone or at least an
impressive facsimile. That ruled out punching his way out even
without the injury. He rolled from his stomach back onto his good
side. His skin had flushed hot in the fit of anger and the cool
stone was nice against it. He sighed, pulling a hand up to grab at
the locket through his shirt.
The floor got uncomfortable after a while so
he rolled to his back, hoping for some comfort. It didn’t much
help. The pain was a low ebb and he bore with it for what must have
been a few hours. The unchanging light made it hard to tell
anything about the passing of time and the soft white of the cell
made his brain feel like it was slowly melting.
At some point amidst Lowell’s slow descent
toward human goo, the hum returned. He thought maybe he was
imagining it at first until the light shifted at the bottom of his
vision. He moved as best as he could manage to stand up properly.
Maybe there was a chance. He hadn’t seen an overabundance of
guards.
The door was mid swing and Lowell took a step
to meet it. His intentions fell flat as the opening door revealed
only a slight girl in maybe her early 20s. She was dressed in a
thin light grey robe with long sleeves and a red stripe down one
side of the garment proper. He took a step back.
“ Uh, hi?”
She hadn’t looked up until he said something
and when she did she seemed almost startled as though she had half
expected the room to be empty. She said a single word in the
language he didn’t know and bowed her head. Behind her was a cart
that she turned to pull into the room. It was really more of a
dinner tray than a cart and it was made of flimsy wood with a thin
stone top.
He failed to get a good look at what was on
the cart as she stepped toward him, the door closing behind her.
She pointed to the bed and said some words he didn’t understand.
When he just stared back at her, the expression she wore grew more
apprehensive. She said the words again, more softly, and pointed
meekly at the bed.
There wasn’t a great reason to give this girl
a hard time so he moved over to the bed and sat down
pronouncing it right. “— you have made for us a bad time. You
cannot be put to fault, I think. Not so much. More Marka. She is
trouble.”
“ Because she brought me here? It’s
not her fault. I followed her down so don’t do anything to her. I’m
to blame.” He pointed to his chest. “I followed her.”
The old man sat in silence for a short while,
processing the unfamiliar words and then spoke again.
“ No. There is difficultness with
your understanding of us. Marka is Brant. She must go with her
Brant so the other may come.”
“ The other?” He thought hard. “You
mean the boy?”
“ Boy! Yes! Brista. Is Brista. Of
his Brant. Marka must go with her Brant.”
The words all meant nothing but Lowell guessed
there was some group that Marka must have been a part of. He’d
already assumed as much from the tattoos but the old man at least
gave some broken context to the idea.
“ And where is her
Brant?”
The old man turned the words over for a long
time but did not answer.
“ Well?”
“ Gone.”
Lowell narrowed his eyes. Gone? What the fuck
kind of answer was that? Did he mean dead? The old man
continued.
“ She must also go.”
He fucking did mean dead. This son of a bitch.
Lowell lurched forward and swung an arm but the pain caught him and
dropped him harmlessly on the floor five feet away from the Elder
Werra.
“ Maybe you also go.”
Lowell looked up and caught the hint of a
smirk on the old bastard’s face. The door hummed again and slid
open. The guards returned, the old man stood, and they all left in
the little row they had come in, chair included.
The room turned quiet again except for the
occasional faint sound through the slit that let light into the
cell. Lowell wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Whatever
kind of magic these people were made of, he wasn’t, so opening the
door was a no go. The wall was made of stone or at least an
impressive facsimile. That ruled out punching his way out even
without the injury. He rolled from his stomach back onto his good
side. His skin had flushed hot in the fit of anger and the cool
stone was nice against it. He sighed, pulling a hand up to grab at
the locket through his shirt.
The floor got uncomfortable after a while so
he rolled to his back, hoping for some comfort. It didn’t much
help. The pain was a low ebb and he bore with it for what must have
been a few hours. The unchanging light made it hard to tell
anything about the passing of time and the soft white of the cell
made his brain feel like it was slowly melting.
At some point amidst Lowell’s slow descent
toward human goo, the hum returned. He thought maybe he was
imagining it at first until the light shifted at the bottom of his
vision. He moved as best as he could manage to stand up properly.
Maybe there was a chance. He hadn’t seen an overabundance of
guards.
The door was mid swing and Lowell took a step
to meet it. His intentions fell flat as the opening door revealed
only a slight girl in maybe her early 20s. She was dressed in a
thin light grey robe with long sleeves and a red stripe down one
side of the garment proper. He took a step back.
“ Uh, hi?”
She hadn’t looked up until he said something
and when she did she seemed almost startled as though she had half
expected the room to be empty. She said a single word in the
language he didn’t know and bowed her head. Behind her was a cart
that she turned to pull into the room. It was really more of a
dinner tray than a cart and it was made of flimsy wood with a thin
stone top.
He failed to get a good look at what was on
the cart as she stepped toward him, the door closing behind her.
She pointed to the bed and said some words he didn’t understand.
When he just stared back at her, the expression she wore grew more
apprehensive. She said the words again, more softly, and pointed
meekly at the bed.
There wasn’t a great reason to give this girl
a hard time so he moved over to the bed and sat down
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