Emancipation

Chapter 1 : Clouds on the Horizion

Chapter 1

Fiona Maken was raised in a family of secrets. The knowledge she was adopted was not one of them. Neither was the fact that she had been discovered, newborn, in a half-melted snowbank. What her family did not share was the fact that Fiona was not an average little girl. Fiona had the ability her family kept a closely guarded family secret. She had a way of learning by touching people.

At what her parents assumed was three months old, Fiona shocked her father completely when she said, “Daddy, I am really sorry I pooped myself.” He had just finished changing her diaper, and he nearly fainted.

“Excuse me? Where is that voice coming from?” He searched the changing table for a speaker or other device.

Fiona giggled, “Daddy, it’s me! You’re silly.”

This time he had been looking at her mouth when she spoke. He froze. Fiona smiled at him unsure of what she had done to upset him. She could feel his anxiety verging on panic. He opened his mouth, “Fi? Are you really talking?”

Fiona giggled again, “Yes daddy, why? Everyone else does it.”

He dropped the dirty diaper on the floor, “Not at three months old…”

“Why not? It’s easy.”

Her father blinked and then noticed the diaper on the floor. He bent to pick it up and Fiona tried to push herself over to look off of the changing table at him. He dropped the diaper in the trash and stood up. “Oh my god! Fi! Stay where I put you! You could have fallen.”

“Sorry daddy,” Fiona decided not to surprise him anymore without warning. Like she wouldn’t tell him she felt every bit of his terror at her falling.

Within six months she wasn’t just walking but running and dressing, sometimes it was more of a case of undressing herself. For two weeks at around seven months old she decided nudity was the most natural and correct state of being. Fiona had potty trained herself as soon as she could stand and walk, so she wouldn’t even wear a diaper. She wouldn’t be convinced nudity was inappropriate even under the pressure of her parents’ shame and embarrassment. Her parents finally let her have her way, taking her for a picnic in the park. It got cold and wet. Her parents explained that you never knew what the weather would do for sure and that being dressed was insurance against it. She went back to wearing clothing that afternoon.

The Makens were an upper-middle-class family, with five sons and one daughter. Fiona was the focus of all their world, and what she could say and do was a family secret they all kept. Stories of extraordinary people were rare, and they had all heard rumors of bad things happening to people who could do unusual things and their families. Disappearances had happened.

By kindergarten, Fiona was fully indoctrinated in the reality that she could not reveal how special she was. It took her full effort not to reveal she read at a college level when the teacher asked what sound a “G” made. She slipped up and revealed her ability to read shortly before Christmas break. The teacher had been amazed. Fiona faked a third-grade reading level when quizzed and regretted the mistake because she was moved into a school for gifted children on semester break. School got more difficult after that. Mainly becoming a minefield of remembering what she was supposed to know and what she supposedly didn't know.


* * *

Chaotic swirls of light flashed and shimmered around her. Vertigo gripped her stomach churning it and what little it held. Abruptly darkness and stillness dropped on her like a heavy curtain. Her universe contracted around her. She felt the barest whisper of fresh air flowing in her nostrils. A tiny bubble of moisture wet her lips. She sucked at it and drank deeply fresh cool water. She persisted in this state for a long time, beyond her sense of measure, save for the growing hunger in the pit of her stomach.

Raen Davis woke from the dream hungry. She was always hungry. Even with everyone in the pack sharing the food they scavenged nobody ever finished the evening meal satisfied. As a pack of unwanted orphans, they had no regular source of income or food. Second oldest in the pack, at around ten years old, Raen had been around the block a lot longer than the younger kids. Fred was a couple of years older, he and Raen had been together since she could remember, at least half her life. He was the one that took her in and showed her it was easier to survive together than apart. The rest of the pack was all much younger. Some of the other kids benefited from a cuteness that meant they acquired more food begging than some of the others. The rest begged borrowed and when necessary stole what they could.

The pack would gather at dusk in the cardboard and plastic shelter they shared down Behemoth Alley. They would all put in what they had gathered. As the eldest, Fred would assemble it into a meal of sorts and divide it among the group. By agreement, he and Raen gave up part of their fair portions so the younger kids had a chance of getting fuller.

Breakfast would come if the Sisters of Charity chose to push their cart through the neighborhood. Dawn wasn’t far off, and if any of them was going to get a morning meal then they needed to be waiting at the distribution point the sisters used in this neighborhood by dawn. She began gently waking the others. Some cried for mommies that only recently abandoned them.

“Shh Constance, mommy is here,” Raen soothed the youngest. She petted Constance on the head and hummed a little tune Fred used to soothe the youngest kids. Raen stayed by Constance’s side until the child had awoken to the reality that the warm loving home was no more than a memory. Constance cried a few moments and then dried her eyes before the rest of the pack could tease her for it. Raen envied the girl’s memories. Raen’s only real clue to her origins was the thin silver plaque on the ID bracelet around her wrist. Etched in it was her name. She felt for it and ran her fingers over it like a rosary. It was looser than it had been yesterday. She rapidly counted the links in the chain, one more link was there. The revelation wasn’t as disturbing as it had been the first time that it happened.

The other kids lined up to head out and Raen realized that her bracelet had distracted her for several minutes. She hopped up into her place in line, at the rear. Fred smiled at her and the group began the short walk out of the alleyway to the distribution point. When they arrived the sisters were beginning to pack up their cart and the other packs of orphans had drifted off to enjoy their meals.

Fred rushed over and held out his hand. The sister placed a compact nutritionally complete loaf on his palm and muttered their usual blessings. The rest of the pack was close behind. The small loaves were barely filling but gave one-third of the nutrients recommended for the day. Raen broke hers in half and handed one half to Constance. She then began breaking off crumbly bites for herself. The bread was very nutty and just a hint sweet.

“Look out! Escaped snake!” Someone from behind yelled, at the same moment a green blur snapped towards Constance. Time slowed. The blur froze in the air, resolving itself into a bright green snake launching itself fang forward at the littlest of them. Raen didn’t pause, she dropped her loaf and snapped her hand around the head of the snake from behind. Immobilizing the jaw and forcing the mouth closed. Time snapped back to normal and the snake struggled in Raen’s grip.

A man ran upon them from behind. His greeting was a sharply indrawn breath, “Dear lord! Goodness, you caught it?”

Raen nodded and held the snake out in his direction. He wore an insignia marking him as a senior journeyman of the Apothecary Guild. “Is this yours?”

He nodded, “An apprentice attempted to milk it unsupervised. It bit him and got away. We found him and got the antivenom in him in time. I came out here fast as I could to find the snake.” He held a long stick with grasping pincers on one end. “You caught it mid-strike? You must have a great deal of experience dealing with snakes for one so young.” Raen shrugged as the man carefully placed a small hood over the snake’s head. “You can let go now. It’s safe to let me take it. Would you like a job? It would be on an as-needed basis. Unfortunately, this is not as rare an occurrence as we would like. Snakes get away during milking or transportation pretty often. Most of them aren’t dangerous, but their bites can be outstandingly painful.”

Raen eyed the man suspiciously as he took the snake and tucked it into his messenger bag, “So you want me to wrangle snakes for you?”

“Well, to start out we would have you hunting down escapees. Perhaps occasionally you might be invited on snake gathering expeditions in the wild. I can’t guarantee anything steady… but you would be affiliated with the Apothecary Guild.”

Raen thought of being bitten by those fangs on a regular basis, “Pass.”

The man stared at her wide eyes and reached into the front pocket of his messenger bag. He pulled out an embossed card. Raen read it, “Honor Baggood, journeyman apothecary, Rand Apothecary Works.” Raen took the card and watched as the man left.

“You should have taken the job Raen! It could have been your ticket!” Fred stated. He offered her half his breakfast loaf.

Raen looked down, hers had shattered into a pile of crumbs when she dropped it. She wasn’t hungry enough to debase herself by licking crumbs from the sidewalk. Fred gestured with his loaf. There was a tug at Raen’s ragged sleeve. Raen turned. Constance held out the half of Raen’s loaf that Raen had given her. Raen smiled she took the loaf from Constance, broke it in half again, and gave half back to Constance. Fred broke off half of the half he offered and pressed it on Raen. The pack had already begun to separate for the day and Fred quickly left Raen to eat her breakfast. Raen tucked Honor’s card in her pocket and ate her loaf before anything else could happen.


* * *

From the moment she opened her eyes Beaoul knew she was different than her siblings. They clawed their way from their mother's womb like rabid alien parasites. Beaoul tumbled out of the empty carcass only struggling against being devoured by her brothers. She possessed something they seemed to lack, a certain sense of self-awareness; and she lacked what they possessed, a certain portion of male genitalia. She didn't know how remarkable any of that was. In her bleary newborn vision, all she could really see along her bloody muzzle was that she and they were all covered in their mother's blood. The scent of what was left of their mother's corpse dug a savage hole in Beaoul's stomach she realized must be hunger.

Beaoul delved into the raw meat with her muzzle and fought for the bloody hunks of her body. From some well of natural reverence Beaoul silently thanked her mother for the gift of life. She could sense that her brothers felt none of that reverence. All of their hunger was terrible and when their mother was picked clean Beaoul's siblings set upon their smaller weaker siblings. Beaoul sat on her haunches and let loose a mournful howl. This preying upon one another was wrong. Beaoul pressed that idea outward from her chest towards her brothers. Slowly, with a reluctance clear as the light from the bare light bulb illuminating the cage of their birth, her brothers stopped eating and sat in an arc facing her. She could feel her own hunger multiplied by theirs.

Almost to the point that she was ready to relent, relief came in the form of a new creature that walked upon two legs. The creature opened the cage, "What do we have here? Why are you pups setting point on that big one? You have three runts to finish off!" He shrugged and sighed and tossed a bucket of rotting meat into the cage.

It was Beaoul's siblings' turn to howl mournfully. They squirmed in place. It was clear they wanted to eat. Something about Beaoul's shared disgust kept their eyes focused on her. She continued pressing her will on them and the sense of power it gave her almost distracted her from their combined hunger. She caught each of their eyes in turn and released them to feast. They ran to the pile of meat and began devouring it. Beaoul realized her own hunger but went to the pile of rotten meat at a more subdued pace.

"That big one is strange!" The two-legged creature told a companion that had just arrived.

"Yes, he is. He either possesses some kind of higher thinking or he is somehow flawed. Don't leave him in there they might eat him," The second creature was female like Beaoul. Why did she insist on referring to Beaoul as he?

The first creature reopened the cage and reached in to grab Beaoul. He wrapped his paws around her and lifted her abruptly. Beaoul whimpered in fear. Her brothers turned from their feast and began snarling at the creature. They backed him out of the cage. He took her with him. "So, Mira, what do you want me to do with him?"

The second creature, Mira, held her paws out to claim Beaoul. "Hmm, where is his? Klugg this hellhound is female!"

"Mistress, that can't be. There is no such thing as a female hellhound!"

Mira glared at Klugg radiating displeasure like a focused heat that Beaoul could clearly feel, "Excuse me, did you just contradict me? This hellhound has the wrong configuration to be male. She is unique, but apparently not impossible."

Klugg fell to his knees and placed his paws on the floor at Mira's feet. He pressed his face into the grimy, blood-stained floor, "Mercy, Mistress, I see my mistake and will never speak against you again! She is clearly female!"

Mira kicked the man in the face with her pointy paw coverings, "Get up! You are to personally raise this one. Provide her with ample meat and stimulation. Pup, do you have a name?"

Beaoul wagged her puppy tail and pressed, Beaoul, towards Mira with her gut.

"Hmm, Beaoul, it has potential. Beaoul you are to follow this withering slug's instructions until you are grown. I will be monitoring your progress. I think you will mature into a fearsome creature." Mira kicked Klugg in the shoulder, "Get up Klugg! Take your charge and get her a clean kennel and a pile of meat!"

Klugg leaped into action. Beaoul could see a purple bruise spreading across his face. He seemed to have been lucky Mira hadn't kicked him in the eye. Klugg held out his hands to accept Beaoul, "Mistress, do you want me to feed her fresh meat?'

Mira handed over Beaoul and then wiped her hands against each other. The blood and filth that clung to her clothing from holding Beaoul disappeared. "Feed her the normal diet. Just make it abundant. I do not think she needs the benefit of a hunger regimen for her to follow instructions. Do you Beaoul?"

Beaoul did the most natural thing she could think of and shook her head no.

"See, Klugg, she is a smart little creature isn't she," Mira punctuated her statement by scratching Beaoul behind her right ear, "Hurry up and get her settled then get back to these pups and feed them so they don't eat each other." Mira disappeared like a mist dissipating at dawn.

Klugg repositioned Beaoul in his arms. He examined her carefully, "If I weren't already, I'd be damned a female hellhound." He carried Beaoul through the room, there were cages on both sides, some had gorging hellhound puppies, some had enormously pregnant canines. Their stomachs writhed with the litters of hellhounds yet to be born. He carried her from the room full of cages into another with larger cleaner cages holding what Beaoul had to assume were adolescent hellhounds. As they walked through the center of the room the other hellhounds pressed on the door of their cages, sniffing. Then they would sit silently. Klugg came to an empty cage and opened the door. He put Beaoul down and closed the gate. His path through the room was announced by the vicious snarls of the adolescent male hellhounds.

Beaoul sat unmoving examining her new surroundings, which were not much different than her original ones. The bars of her cage were set close enough together that not even her diminutive muzzle could fit between them. The door of her cage had another smaller door at the bottom. Klugg returned shortly and opened that door to slide a pan of rotting meat into the cage with Beaoul.

"Eat up, you have a lot of growing to do."


* * *

Fire, swirling flames, it was heat just shy of what would destroy her encased as she was in a shimmering silver film. She spun and tumbled feeling a growing unidirectional pull. It was disorienting to the woman already empty of understanding and memory. With a crash and bang, she burrowed into the soil of a field and the shimmering silver film retreated to where it had come from. Unsteady, dizzy, and still disoriented she uncurled herself from the ball she had been wrapped in during her descent.

Scorched shreds of fabric hung from her shoulders and waist. They did little to hide her otherwise nude form. She was in a cooling crater at the center of some kind of cultivated field. People arrived, dressed in fabric much coarser and more hand-spun than the tatters she wore. All of them were significantly shorter than she was, and where her skin was pale theirs was all an even tone of light brown. Her hair was light as well, nearly white where theirs was just a shade lighter than black.

The crowd began mumbling amongst themselves. The woman understood little more than it was some form of communication. It occurred to her that individuals of her apparent type used sounds to convey meaning. She wished she knew those patterns and symbols.

A group of individuals dressed in fabrics of a finer weave, though not as fine as hers, arrived and approached her cautiously. She made note that they were slightly taller than the rest of the crowd but still all but one were much shorter than her. As she made these observations, a bright light at the least equal to this world’s sun illuminated the night sky. They look up to the sky and the woman heard them say, “Supernova!”

At last, some meaning she could attach to something, She looked up too and saw the remnant of an exploding star. She wasn’t sure how she knew that was what it was. She couldn’t put it into words, but she knew. The sky was peppered with bright burning streaks of light. Some impacted the ground as she had. She could feel the staccato vibrations of impacts smaller than her own through the ground.

The well-dressed newcomers circled her, chanting and waving books and burning incense over her. Finally, one dressed in elaborate layered robes of only the finest weave stopped in front of her and slapped his chest, “Ian.”

He tapped her on her chest and his language filled the empty places of her mind, “I don’t know,” She answered the implied question in his language.

“You can speak?”

“Apparently, but I have almost no memory prior to falling from the sky,” She stated.

He stepped back and conferred with his fellows. Then he stepped up to her again, “We shall call you Nova. After the supernova your arrival heralded.”

She nodded, “One question, where am I?”

“You are on Plymouth. Our world was settled by the holy founders in the name of the creator!” He stated.

“Founders?” Nova asked.

“The ones who came before and left. Surely as their emissary, you know of the founders,” He stated.

Nova picked up on the sense that it would be better for her if she were an emissary, so she improvised. “Of course but that isn’t what they call themselves. They call themselves travelers or wanderers.”

“Our mistake Emissary,” He stated. He turned back to the men who arrived with him, “Bring her robes to cover her nakedness.” One of the men who had come with the leader began furiously writing in one of the books they had brought. Several of the others scuttled off. They returned fairly rapidly with robes resembling the inner layers of what Ian wore.

“Emissary, many apologies, we have little for you to wear. We neither expected you nor expected you would be so, tall,” One stated holding the robes out to her.

Nova smiled her thanks and began removing the tatters of what must have been her old outfit. The clothing they offered was harsh and coarse against her skin as she began putting on the robes. Part of her was aware that the clothing was considered utterly inappropriate for women by the surrounding people, but the local leadership was the ones putting her in it so nothing was said. “Many thanks, Ian,” Nova said.

“Let me introduce myself properly, I am Bishop Ian Lourdad, of the village of Covetton. We are the second-largest still occupied settlement on Plymouth.” Nova sensed he thought of himself more as the bishop than as Ian.

Nova nodded, “Do you have anything to eat? I feel like I haven’t eaten in ages.”

The bishop turned to his underlings, “Prepare a feast in the central market square. Take the founders' tithe from each of the merchants to do so! Today shall be a festival day, in celebration of the arrival of the emissary from the founders and the creator!”

Nova felt awkward, and uncomfortable with the role they seemed to be putting her in. She didn’t know what machinations or purpose they had for her but she was certain that there was more to this Emissary business than she could see on the surface. “Is there somewhere I can rest until the feast is prepared?”

The bishop gestured for her to follow him, “I will find you some rooms in the temple.”

Nova followed him, a shiver went up her spine like she was making a devil's bargain. Funny, she didn’t know who she was or where she came from, but “devil’s bargain,” she knew. Who was she before she fell to the ground, in a flaming ball?