Part 4

Malkemen had spent the day helping the innkeeper's wife prepare a newly killed pig. There was a small celebration in the pub; a pig was a rare treat and preferable change from fish. He had been slicing, boiling, smoking and packing the thing, and although I tried to help, after only half an hour it was apparent I was more of a help simply watching, as usual. So I had sat and watched, etching in the dirt and stacking rocks to enliven my day, and now, after his full day of work, we were both rewarded with a wholesome meal and piece of silver.

My main concern, as it was most days now, was to stay awake. My eyelids were so heavy I could feel the invisible demons pressing on them, urging me to let go so they could take me. I had discovered that they came to me more easily when sleeping, so I now spent my nights staring at the jagged rock ceiling of our cave until I dropped off into oblivion. And often, when I held out long enough, they did not come to my dreamless slumber until the sun rose; a morbid wakening.

So we sat quietly in the pub, watching the villagers have a bite or drink, Malkemen with attentive wariness, me with a will to keep myself occupied so I didn't drop off. The room itself was filled with the odor of different pipes, each mingling with one another to make a horrid thick atmosphere. We of course got a few glares as we always did, but today a group of them had obviously drunk more then their usual, and were boldly proclaiming over the racket how our presence dirtied the town of Nove.

"Them two!" belched Talcum, the same man who had come into our home the night it burned down. We often stayed away from him, for he never gave us jobs anyway. However, at times like these he could not be completely avoided. "Sitting around, beggin' for jobs. Them bastard children ruin it, suck the happiness right outa the place. Dirty little rags, with their lice and dirt in this here pub, eating as though they belong to Nove. That boy's gonna turn inter a lyin' thief, and she's gonna grow into a lil' whore. I still say we kill 'em, they ain't no use!"

I was used to such death threats, especially from him. However, I still looked over at Malkemen and said, "Mahkemn, what's a 'lil' whore'?"

He looked sharply at me. "Don't listen to em, Kinya. Don't look at 'em, don't do nothin'. They say nothin' but lies. And don't ever repeat anything they say!" He went back to tearing at his ham, and I turned back around to look at them again.

Demper, a grouchy old widower with half his teeth and hair fallen out growled, "I don' like 'er especially! She's a creepy one, her. Got a devil in her, I say." He looked right at me, and I turned back around pretty quickly.

"Told you," Malkemen whispered, kissing my temple. "Just eat, little one." I ate, but couldn't block out Demper's voice. I was almost sure none of the villagers knew about the demons, but nonetheless he had frightened me. Had Malkemen not been calm, I might've fallen out of my chair.

"Tis pure evil, that one." He continued. I kept my back turned, and Malkemen took my hand. "One of my chickens died last night, an' I know who killed him! Stealing from us all they are, how else have they stayed alive this long?"

Several boisterous comments followed. We had finished our dinner, and Tilby, the innkeeper's wife, called in Malkemen to help with a last chore to earn another piece of meat to take home. He turned to me. "I'll be back soon. Stay here, and don't do anything." I nodded. I was used to waiting.

Moments after he had departed, their jeers reached a climax, and I started to hear shouts of "You there!", "Girl" and "Hey, bitch!" I stated shaking and breathing hard. Stay here, Malkemen told me to stay here…don't leave. I really wouldn't have moved but for a pair of strong, callused hands that grabbed my few whips of hair and yanked me over to their table. It was a small place, which made all the gargantuan people even larger- I hardly came up to some of their knees. I squirmed at first, but Raschk, who I knew to be the one holding me by his smoky aroma and thick arms, only yanked my hair up so I was standing on my tiptoes to try and relieve some of the pain. He released me- I did not relax, but stood there trying not to cry and trembling slightly at their leering faces.

"You, girl!" shouted Talcum. "Refresh my memory-what's your name?"

I looked at the floor, studying the foot prints and patterns as I often did while waiting for the day to be through and a meal awarded. It wasn't working.

"Ey!" another remarked. "You'll respond when we tell ya, lil' bitch! Or are you happy with that name?" He came up and roughly pushed my chin up so I could see him. Instead of letting him see how scared I was, I allowed myself to glare at him as only a three year old could. This brought up only more laughter among the bar.

"Girls' got fire!" proclaimed one of the bearded farmers. "That'll be a handy gift when she's older!"

"That's rrright!" My unused voice was amazingly shrill against their deep and rough ones. "I'll use it when I'm olterr when Mahkemn and I are elping children like us and killing bat people like you!"

The roar in the tavern was deafening at this proclamation. As it subdued, Talcum continued. "Yes, well, we knew your brother's name was Malkemen. Always thought that was bit high for the bastard. Sounds elven. He's a bit high for any name, if you ask me. And you! Bet you've got yourself the name of a queen!"

"My name is Kinya!" My voice was as loud and true as it could be, but my boldness resulted in more laughter, causing a dramatic change in tone when I added, "Muter said it sounded like falling leaves."

"Never thought it was inappropriate for one such as you?" inquired the blacksmith.

"I like my name," I murmured.

"Don't think we can go on calling them by such wondrous names," pondered Demper. "Can't call these rats by elven names and 'natural wonders'. Should shorten 'em. Call 'em Rat en Face."

"Naw, got to make it understandable. Can't have 'em responded to any words, we need to be able to call 'em. Need to have a name, sommat to whisper in the dark…" This remark was followed a large number of rude guffaws, and someone tweaked a piece of my hair painfully. "Call 'em Mal n' Kin. No…..Ya's more crude. Mal sounds like a dying goat and Ya a screaming cat; much more appropriate."

Drunken chortles vibrated throughout the pub. An unsynchronized chorus of mocking 'Ya''s quivered all around me. I was so frightened, but there where so many of them, all large and hairy and strong. And then the demons came again.

A mother watching her children on a beach far different from the one we inhabited, for it was devoid of rocks and filled simply with mounds of sand. There are three children, all around my age, and I thought vaguely of how it would be fun to play with them. All of the four's wispy red hair curls about their faces after escaping the binds that still holds the majority of their locks. The older three are splashing in the waves, one moment in complete control of their bodies and the next helpless to the wrath of nature. The youngest, however, stays in the sand, although his hair is wet, giving away past experiences. He sits constructing a sand castle with his mother, and giggling as she cunningly places a seashell on the highest tower to represent a flag…

Peasants living in a wavy grassland run to their homes in desperate attempt to bar their doors against the oncoming soldiers. They are a black mob, hungry for slaughter and fire in their eyes. The soldiers are not men. They are bigger then men, and their skin is dark and slimy and their faces are painted with crude symbols. They wave their weapons and hack through doors and people the few still unsheltered, their triumphant howls not overriding the blood curdling screams that accompany them…

One man, a farmer, standing in front of his home. Three of the monsters in front of him, but he has a spade in his hand. A small girl, only a year or two older then myself, is standing behind him, screaming, "Daddy! Daddy!" Her mother, the man's wife, must have heard her daughter and had already opened the door to grab her, and screams before…

A bed, a little child. A man sitting over it. Her face is tight and pale, his almost as draught but still healthy. She coughs and reaches up to him. He holds her hand softly, wiping her hair back from her temple…

A few moments later, the same room, same bed, same people. Only she is quiet, and the man is standing. He has a knife in his hands, and is about the plunge it down into his throat…

My own cry resonated over the hubble of the tavern. I had only been overcome for but a moment, but in that short moment I had seen heaven and hell, and every villager had seen a distinct silver glow flash within my pupil which was the demon that showed me them. I had done what Malkemen had told me never to do.

The villagers all stood stock still, staring at me with frightened eyes. A few whispers broke out near the bar, and Raschk suddenly pointed and cried out. "Demons! That child is damned! Get her away, quick!"

Raschk had been the start of my doom. The voices picked up and carried throughout the pub, each one of them screaming at me to die and stop my evil presence. My sobs, which were so labored that I could hardly breathe, where not even audible amongst the clamor.

Behind it all, I heard a thin voice crying "Kinya, Kinya!", and I cried "Mahkemn, Mahkemn!" in return. Someone must've grabbed him and brought him forward. Several people spat at him. He struggled a bit, but soon found it hopeless, just as I had. I suddenly realized that although he was bigger then me, he was so much smaller then all of them. Instead of feeling relieved because of his presence, I was more deeply frightened, for now we were both in a circle of drunks with murder in their eyes.

I started to run to him, but now Talcum's hand came out and grabbed me around my chest and legs so that I was immobile. "You know," he whispered, "the only reason we're keeping you alive is cause of the good morals of our wives. Point is, we can kill ya-" he laughs to himself, "any time we damn well please. Especially after your little secret- the wives will be pleased to get rid of a demon child. We're just saving you for another night. Actually, we'll probably jus' kill your brother, and wait an see how pretty you turn out. We won't mind keeping ya alive much then, cause you'll be damned no matter what you do, don't matter to us if you're lower in the town then before. Just like your mother. She's in hell now- burning and burning cause she was an evil woman, just like you'll be. You knew she was an evil woman, right? You know what she did? You know that she used herself, Ya, to get and indecent living?" He glared down at me, basking in my terror at his looming face. "Anyways, if you're looking promising, we'll let ya have the same job she did, that is till ya start getting' wrinkles and begin to sag." With that, he took a swig and fell backwards. Amidst the fresh laughter, several people got distracted enough where we could slip away at a run.

The distance kept getting shorter every time we ran back to the cave, but on this occasion seemed much to stretch and stretch as we slowly passed every rock, every blade of grass. By the time we got there we were both panting and shaking. Without a word, Malkemen stored his piece of silver on a little shelf which was previously empty, and I was sure would be again soon in a matter of days, when we could find someone who would accept money from us. I grabbed my little doll Nima and hugged her tight, watching Malkemen as he determinedly got ready for bed. Seeing no other option, I took my blanket, waited for him to lie down, and lay down next to him, as I did every night.

He didn't say anything, and I was afraid he'd gone to sleep. I was too frightened to go to sleep. I didn't want nightmares, didn't want demons, didn't want to see the villagers or what was really there. I didn't really want anything, and to get rid of it all, I asked Malkemen a question that was burning inside me.

"Mahkemn, was Muter bad?"

He tensed up and jerked violently, before slowly turning around so we were face to face on the ground, his expression soft. "No, Kinya, Mother was not bad. What they told you were all lies."

"But-but—"

"Kinya." He took both his hands and cupped them around my face, placing his own close to mine so that our noses were touching. "I promise you, Mother didn't do what they say she did. She wasn't bad, and you won't be bad, either. I promise." And without another word, he lied down and went to sleep.