My Black Beast by Randall P. Fitzgerald Read Free Book Online

the same materials as the
door?
    Marka tugged at his jacket, pulling him back
from the trance the spire had put him in. It didn’t seem as though
it should be able to stand. The girl started down a smooth cobbled
path that lead out from the doorway. It was his first step onto the
path that made him realize the entire expanse of the city was lit.
He looked up, there was nothing. Rock along the walls fading into
blackness as they climbed away from the ground. It must have been
more than a few hundred feet. The spire stood that tall at least
and was nowhere near anything that could be recognized as a
ceiling.
    The blackness above meant there was no
lighting up there either. The world was being lit from ground
level. He looked down at the path as he paced along behind Marka.
He blinked at the stones, swearing there were tiny strands of light
rushing over and between them, but he couldn’t ever seem to focus
on any of them.
    Ahead, he heard a slight shuffling sound.
Marka had increased her pace and was walking with purpose. The road
forked not too far away, one path leading straight and the other
heading down into a series of shoddier looking homes that was maybe
a few hundred yards to their right.
    The walk was quiet as things with Marka so
often were. She’d spoken on her own a pair of times now. Lowell had
tried not to overreact to it but he could see her start to shake
any time she made a sound. If she meant to put on a brave face, he
would as well. He decided to lose himself in the architecture
around him. It was like a trip to some forgotten Swiss city or
something. Even the smaller, less impressive houses had pillars and
ornate statues. Each of the statues was of a different person,
dressed all in different ways. Some smiling, some well-dressed,
some children, some older. Lowell though they might be family
members or remembrances of people who’d passed on. None of the
statue people wore the cloak that Marka had on, though many of the
statues of older people had indentions in a familiar style but
unique patterns.
    He hadn’t considered it too much, but it
slowly became clear that these houses were mostly abandoned. They
hadn’t fallen into disrepair and the strange world around him had
seemed to keep them in perfect condition. It was the empty insides
of the houses that gave them away. Occasionally they would pass a
row that had taken damage. Lowell couldn’t help but imagine the
monster he’d seen Marka fight lumbering into walls and pillars and
destroying the carefully crafted statues.
    No two of the houses were alike and Lowell did
what he could to try to survey each one, appreciating what he
imagined was a good deal of work and craftsmanship. He was admiring
the carving in a stone overhang when the corner of his vision saw
Marka come to a dead stop in the middle of the narrow
street.
    Standing in the street ahead of the unseemly
pair was a short, fat woman. She was broad and pale with light
hair, though closer to a sandy blonde and wavier than Marka’s
dreadlocks. Her skin was free of any sort of markings. She stared
forward, seeming not to notice Lowell the entire time, her eyes
locked to Marka and her eyes wide. Lowell watched the scene
motionlessly for what felt like forever before a pain in his foot
forced him to shift his weight. The motion pulled the woman’s eyes
up to his face. She narrowed her eyes a short second and shook her
head, then looked back to the heavily tattooed girl. As if a wave
of realization swam over the woman, she let go a piercing scream
and turned running away flailing just about everything she could in
awkward lopes down the street.
    Lowell didn’t really have to ask. That was
definitely bad. There was a sort of universal language in the whole
running away screaming thing. It wasn’t good, but he couldn’t know
what to make of it. Maybe the beast Marka killed was some
protection monster? Maybe she was a criminal? The woman had almost
seemed more in awe than anything before she