Amirra

by Coralyn Umber

  Amirra:

  Book 1 of the Outerworld Chronicles

  By Coralyn Umber

  Copyright © 2018 Coralyn Umber

  All rights reserved.

  Cover designed by MatYan

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For my daughters the lights that will always shine in my universe

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  X

  XI

  XII

  XIII

  XIV

  I

  The rocky ground was creating sensitive places under me as I lay facing the strange sunset. The green striations, which were purple before my time, unsettled me. The golden hues of the sun were a distant memory. Through the noxious clouds everything had a sickly green color. But tonight, hints of blue, indigo, and red had flashed across the sky just before the sun had fallen behind the mountains. I wondered if it was a sign. Was the pollution finally beginning to clear from the atmosphere? The air was still breathable, but just. The exposure to the Outerworld’s weather and pollution was beginning to alter those few descendants of survivors living on the surface. My mother had been of Outerworld stock while my father was from the Catacombs. He had been sent to the surface because he had defied the direct order of the Council in the New Amsterdam Catacombs. He had wandered alone for years, just as I am now, before he found my mother and her people. My mother had defied her own village’s council to mate with my father. They did not wish to mix their blood with the blood of those in the Catacomb’s. The Catacombs refused to accept change, her people refused to accept the past. Before long they chose to leave the village and wander the Outerworld together. Though they found many villages that were willing to take them, my parents refused to stay, even when mother was pregnant with me. They finally settled in the Great Mountains that faced the rising sun near the Great Sea.

  The Great Mountains were longer than I ever imagined. Though we traveled while I was a child, it was typically only to go to a town to trade for supplies. Now, as I wander these mountains alone, I realize how small I am. There is no one to care for me, no one who even knows that I am here. The mountains to my back are the only comforting presence I know. Though most of the plants and animals died many decades ago, there were a few that were still unchanged and edible within the protecting arms of the mountains and in the waters of the great sea. For five years now I have explored the cliffs and peaks of my home but a sense of foreboding was growing in my breast. I knew that soon I would leave these familiar crags and venture back out to the towns along the sea. It had been five years since I had uttered a word to any soul other than myself, at least no other human soul. The foreboding feeling was getting stronger each day and this night it finally accompanied me to my dreams.

  II

  I woke suddenly feeling un-rested, agitated, and alarmed. My pelt was standing on end, just like it did before a lightning storm, only the skies were clear. The sun was rising. The greenish glow seemed to be aimed directly into my eyes. Fear suddenly washed over me. It filled my mind and my heart. I scrambled to grab my few possessions and slip-slide down the mountain ledge. Every part of my being was screaming for me to move, to run, and to get away. I had to obey. My limbs seemed to move of their own volition. I was blinded by the urgency to move. I did not see where I was going only that the scene was moving quickly by as I ran full pelt down the mountain. When I had switched from running upright to running on my hands and feet, I do not know. I was quicker on all four; my father had called me his cheetah girl. I liked his nickname for me but I had never seen a cheetah. He said they were extinct.

  As the fear began to abate, I slowed my forward motion until I slid to a halt. Breathing so hard that I was dizzy, I turned to look at the ledge where I had spent the night. A shadowy figure stood there, looking down at me. It was too far away to discern any individual features but I knew there would be none. I knew that it was one of the ones that had taken my parents. It was one of the Shadow Walkers; a new mutation that was starting to appear; it seemed they were coming down from the mountains. Where exactly they came from I did not know but I knew as sure as I could breathe that they were responsible for the disease that had taken my parents. The last sane thoughts my mother had before her own mutation was complete was to tell me to run, to find my father’s people and her people. She said that I needed to tell them of the Shadow Walkers. Then she became one of them, a walking shade. Why I did not catch the sickness, I do not know. Those last moments with my mother haunted me always.

  I turned back toward the sunrise and the sea and began walking briskly at a pace I knew wouldn’t tire me nearly as quickly. The Shadow Walker would not follow me as quickly now. They still seemed to be confining themselves within the mountains and I had reached an open plateau with full exposure to the dawning sun. I unconsciously watched for edible foods as I continued along my path. For five years I had been traveling north along these mountains. There was no easy path because the ancient roads had been covered in landslides, collapsed, or led into the nests of the Druin. Though largely harmless, the Druin had an uncanny way of delaying travelers. After my second encounter with a nest, I saw what became of those who stayed; they slowly changed into Druin themselves, a largely unintelligent but socially friendly mutation. After seeing the children that were slowly mutating, becoming less energetic and less independent, and also speaking with their parents who were changing but in different ways, I began to avoid the nests.

  A harsh wind began to blow in from the sea, making my progress slower. Though my pelt kept me warm when it became cold enough to snow, it did nothing for wind and rain. I had not been to a town in almost a year. In that time I had outgrown the last of my clothes. What little I was still wearing was in rags. That was going to be a problem when I reached the next town. Most of the towns had funny beliefs about nudity. Though I was never technically nude, because of my pelt, many towns had turned me away because they felt clothes were a sign of intelligence. I had been treated little better than a poaching animal. I knew I did not look like my father nor did I look like my mother. My mother had always assured me I was made the way I was for a reason. Father had a dark cast to his features; I always thought of his skin tone was beautiful, allowing him to blend into the shadows of our mountain home. His coloring was common among his people and in many of the towns. His hair, even when allowed to grow, was a tight, wiry curl. My mother had the coloring of a typical Outworlder. Her skin was a pale green, her hair long and straight. Her eyes, like mine, had an inner membrane that was used to protect our eyes from the corrosive air and for short periods allow us to see underwater. My nose, like hers was small, almost feline in appearance as it tapered down our face to stop just above the upper lip. From my father I had inherited my height and my sleek build. Beyond those few features I looked nothing like my parents.

  I drew out of my self-reflection in time to see a shadow move to my right. I did not alter my stride but instead became more aware of my surroundings. I did not want whatever it was to know that I had seen its movement. There it was again, just briefly, I saw movement by the rocks that were in front of me to my right. To make it seem purposeful I veered slightly towards the rocks. They were still more than a 500 strides in front of me. I stopped by a small shrub that contained edible nuts. I began to pick them and put them in my carry-sack, pretending that this was the only reason I stopped. I had a keen sense of smell and sight. I could
smell the faint odor of smoke and fish. I casually stepped away from the bush and sat down, legs crossed. I slowly chewed on a few of the starchy, astringent nuts, seemingly unaware of what was happening. Just there, behind me to my left I saw movement. I sprang to my feet once the figure was within three paces. I knew that the one by the stones in front of me was waiting until I turned to face this second figure. I turned quickly but executed a standing leap over the second figure and landed in a defensive crouch. He turned back to me, stunned. It was at the same moment that I jumped that the first figure finally withdrew from the stones. I now faced both. They were raggedly dressed Outerworld men. The one from behind me had a green cast to his skin while the other had a slightly pink-blue cast, like a pale, but fresh, bruise covered his body. Their hair matched their skin tone.

  “What do you want?” My voice sounded raspy, probably from disuse.

  “A pretty thing like you, wandering out here alone, we just wanted to see if you needed any help,” coaxed the first one. His slimy voice put me on edge.

  “Yeah, ‘course. You know it ain’t safe up here near the mountains. We just wanted to see if you needed protectin’,” agreed the green man. He smiled a greasy smile while his greasy eyeballs surveyed me from head to toe.

  “I don’t believe you,” I said simply eyeing both. It wouldn’t do to turn around while they were within easy reach. “I am fine. You may move away.” I could sense that they were about to make a move towards me, so I slowly backed away.

  “Now,” the blue man hissed. They both lunged for me but I was already running ahead down the plateau. The blue man was faster than his bulk suggested. I was within grabbing distance. I felt his tug on my tunic. The flimsy, worn fabric gave. I could hear the man cursing as he was thrown off balance. I knew that with the amount of travelling I had already done that day, I would not be able to sustain this fast pace. I was nearing the edge of the plateau. Both men were still following me. My legs were screaming in protest to the sustained sprint. I stopped as I saw the plateau suddenly end. It was disconcerting to one minute see ground in front of you and the next nothing. I could hear the men behind me but I could see no way down. It was many, many lengths to the floor below. For the first time, I saw the sea but had no opportunity to appreciate its beauty. The men slowed, their breath heaving. They both began to chuckle a deep, menacing chuckle.

  “Where are you going to run now girlie?” This time the blue man stayed back far enough that I would not be able to jump over them. He motioned for the green man to close the distance, “Quick, grab her and tie her up. We’ll take her back to camp.”

  I fought and kicked but with cliff at my back I was subdued quickly for fear of both of us tumbling over the edge. Only once my hands were bound did the blue man step closer. He directed the green man to hold me while he walked up; I could feel my hands beginning to numb from the bindings. The blue man ran rough, dirty hands over my breasts and down my legs. He tore away what was left of my skirt and continued his rough inspection of each part of my body. When he reached between my legs, I tried to kick him but the green man grabbed me at the apex of my now exposed tail and twisted. I screamed in pain and then blacked out.

  III

  “Cral, I don’t know that we can get much for her.”

  “Maybe we can cut off her tail or we just find the right Madam to sell her to. There are some men that want beasts like her to do with as they please.”

  “I don’t know Cral.”

  “Shut your mouth, she is coming ‘round.”

  I am not sure how he noticed that I was awake when I had only just opened my eyes. I was faced into a fire so couldn’t see who was speaking, though I could guess. Cral’s voice had no hint of accent, obviously he was educated.

  “Back among the living are you,” I was yanked roughly into a sitting position. Only then did I notice that my feet had been bound as well. He forced a dirty canteen to my lips, jarring my teeth, “Drink. Now.”

  At first, I refused because the smell of the liquid was stale and coppery. I felt his hand claw at my hair and yank my head back. He poured the foul liquid down my throat. When he let go, I was roughly shoved back to the ground. I knew from the taste that he gave me some kind of nutrient fluid that was laced with something, probably a sedative as I could feel my limbs turn to lead and my thinking become foggy. Just as I drifted away I heard a voice slur, “We should take her to Analy.”

  I think what finally cleared my body of the last of Cral’s drug was the cottony, dry feeling in my mouth and the need to relieve myself. I was laying on something wooden; it seemed to be a wagon that was jarring with every rut or rock in the ground. I could feel two other bodies near me, one in front and one behind. I tested the movement in my hands and feet. I was still bound in both locations; I could feel my fingers and toes again so they must have loosened the bonds at some point. I could hear people shuffling beyond the wagon. There were no walls on the makeshift wagon. There were people walking, bound next to the wagon. Those that I could see were dirty, wearing rags or sometimes nothing. A coating of dust almost obscured their hair and body colors. I could tell that most were Outworlders by the thin film that was covering their eyes to keep the dust out. The person on the wagon directly in front of me was obviously from the Catacombs. His skin was pale and his hair was a fiery red-orange. Though I couldn’t see the rest of him well, I got a sense that he was young, probably in his teens, around my age. I wiggled my fingers behind me to see how loose the bindings were. I felt the distended mid-sections of the person behind me. The midsection was taught and firm. Then I felt a slight movement underneath my fingers beneath the skin of that abdomen. I realized then that the one behind me was pregnant. That didn’t guarantee it was a woman because there were several mutations where men were also able to gestate.

  I could sense the despondency, the depression, and the fear that was emanating from the other prisoners. Their anguish tore at me. I wanted to help them, these people in a situation as desperate as my own. What could I do? I was more bound than the walkers. Thankfully they did not gag me but caution dictated that I wait to speak. The sun was obscured by smog but I could feel the temperature rising and decided it must be nearing mid-day. I tested my bonds more but felt no give in the ties. Eventually I dozed off, feeling pressed in by the bodies and the humidity. In the evening, those that had walked had their feet bound and many were bound to trees. Those that were on the wagon were untied and walked about with two guards to restore circulation and prevent crippling. “They needed their stock to be in good condition when it arrived at its destination,” I thought acidly. The guards never talked to any of the captives except to bark orders nor did they converse much with each other. The days continued to drag on. I spoke in whispers to my fellow prisoners as we rode. Some days we were drugged, others we were not. The boy called himself Red. He said that his real name was meaningless. The pregnant woman was despondent and refused to say more than that her name was Carra. She was far along in her pregnancy. Not yet far enough to go into labor but I hoped for her sake we made it to our destination soon. I too grew weary of my bindings and began to wonder if I would ever be free.

  The week it took us to reach Analy seemed like eons of dust, grime, and hunger. I was never given proper clothes for our trek nor was I ever allowed to walk. Only on the final day were the bindings on my feet cut.

  “It is dangerous to let them walk but they will be considered damaged or too dangerous for sale, if we do not let them walk,” Cral’s voice was harsh in the quiet hours of dawn. “The pregnant one will continue to ride but you will unbind her feet. We will be looked on as good slavers if we allow the woman to ride.”

  “Cral, what about her?” One of the guards indicated me by the nod of his head. “She will be taken from us to be killed if the town sees her. Publicly they despise such as her.”

  “Yes, we must cover her in a cloak,” grated Cral, “She will bring the best price at a private auction but only if she is not seen in the open.”<
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  I felt a heavy, rough material dropped over my shoulders and head. The hood was large and hid my face from observers. The cloak was just shy of scraping the ground where I walked. My hands were left tied behind my back but I was given freedom to walk, though I noticed that an extra guard was stationed near to me. I wondered what they were so afraid I would do. Perhaps simply that they knew that I had shown how agile I was before; I was more agile than any normal human I had met but now I was exhausted and near starving. The heat of the sun was oppressive. The cloak did nothing to save me from its grip, if anything the cloak made the humid air cling closer to my body. More than the oppressive heat, the cloak held in the odors of the tainted air. The odors of the unwashed bodies in front of me seemed to collect in the folds of the cloak. Despite all this, I was somewhat glad that I had been covered. My reception in towns had not been good enough for me to look forward to facing the crowds. If this town was one that killed mutations, I would definitely do well not to be seen. Though I was not by any means the most extreme mutation, I was very obviously different. I had not yet met another like me as I had traveled the mountains and the towns that bordered them. Some of the more extreme mutations were accepted better than those that still looked human.

  As we neared the city gates the guards lined us up two abreast and spread themselves along our length to both sides. I had not realized until now that there were more than 30 prisoners and one third as many guards. The walls of the city were made from a hodge-podge of materials. I could make out sheet metal, wood, stone, and even junk. One part of the wall was made entirely of stacked rubber wheels of all sizes. The smell given off by the hot rubber served only to oppress the air with stench further. I almost couldn’t breathe for the sheer stink of humanity. This was no small town I realized. The length of this side of the palisade was evidence enough that it was inconceivably bigger than the small mountain towns I had been in. Cral led his human trade-goods to the gate, his stride as confident as ever. He seemed to know the guard on duty because there was only the barest of nods before we were ushered into the city. As we passed I saw Cral pass something to the hands of the guard. The guard gave no indication that something had been added to his hands and continued to count those that were led inside, hands bound. When I passed in front of him he seemed to busy himself with checking his sheets and resumed counting after I had passed. The situation for mutations must be bad here indeed if the guards had to be bribed just to let me walk into the gates.