WHITE DEVIL
by Janina Franck
WHITE DEVIL: Book Two of the Chronicles of the Bat Series
Second Edition
Copyright © 2019 by Janina Franck
www.janinafranck.com
Published by Snowy Wings Publishing
Turner, Oregon
www.SnowyWingsPublishing.com
Cover design: Eerilyfairdesign
https://www.eerilyfairbookcovers.com
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN (e-book): 978-1-948661-32-4
ISBN (paperback): 978-1-948661-33-1
Dear Reader,
this book in an indirect continuation from the first book in the Chronicles of the Bat, Captain Black Shadow.
This means that both storyline and protagonist differ, but the characters from Captain Black Shadow do appear and play an important role.
It can be read without prior knowledge of the first book, as there are only a few small references to it, but the story as a whole remains unreliant on it.
Now, whether you’ve been waiting for more of the Bat’s adventures, or are a new reader, I hope you enjoy Lilith’s adventure.
Thank you.
Janina Franck
NOTE
You can view and download a free map of this world at this link:
janinafranck.com/map
To Dante – thank you.
And to those who have been there for me.
I hope you know who you are.
There was a storm.
Whirling winds, forming a grey spiral that almost touched the ground, whisked through the black sky. Blinding flashes of light connected heaven and earth. No sound could be heard aside from the roaring of the wind and the rolling thunder, mimicking a beast of tremendous measure.
Chaos reigned.
Animals cowered in their burrows as trees came crashing down. People hid in their homes, trembling in fear, believing the end of the world had reached them. Only a select few knew the true meaning behind this strange phenomenon.
After many hours, the storm cleared away as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving behind a clear, sunny day. From the blue sky fell a girl in a simple white dress with imposing, white, bat-like wings extending from her shoulder blades. Only half-conscious, she tried to catch the air beneath her wings to stop herself. She continued to tumble toward the ground, though a little slower than before.
Even so, the impact was sudden and hard. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was a young face, watching her worriedly from a short distance away.
There was warmth and there was light. She could hear a voice speaking but she could not make out any words or meaning. Her body ached, most of all her wings. Slowly, she forced her eyes open to reveal a wooden ceiling above her. Where was she? The girl tried to search her mind for memories. There had to be something in there. She vaguely remembered the face of a child and the sensation of falling, the wind whipping at her wings, but nothing else.
No, wait; there was something.
She shut her eyes to reach inside, to brush away the veil in her mind which was hiding the information she was looking for. But nothing would come back to her.
Gingerly, the girl attempted to sit up. She let her gaze wander through the room. Light shone through some windows, exposing a view of a simple street to one side, a small garden on the other, and hilly meadows in the remaining ones. On all sides, nearby mountains reached up high, seemingly touching the sky.
Inside, there were some stairs that led up to another level, but here on the ground floor, everything appeared to be contained in one single room. A modest kitchen, including a big stove and a fireplace took up the space under the window facing out to the garden. The door she presumed to be the entrance was located on the wall on the street’s side. There were no ornaments on it; it was an ordinary, heavy oak door, framed by bookshelves on either side. The rest of the furniture was equally simple: a wooden table in the center of the room, wooden chairs around it, and on this side of the wall with one of the windows out toward a little wood, was an ancient-looking wardrobe and the couch she was laying on. A blanket had been carefully placed over her body to keep her warm.
There was only one thing that seemed out of place. It was a wooden figure, a bear, carved from dark wood, with bluish gems for eyes that glowed gently with a pulsating light. It was sitting on a silk pillow on one of the bookshelves. It seemed too expensive to match the rest of the décor and she couldn’t tell how it might be connected to the rest of the place. Perhaps it was an heirloom.
It was an unassuming home, but it looked warm and comfortable. Was it her home? Or was it a stranger’s place? Nothing gave it away, no items, no smells – as much as she liked the wooden fragrance in the room – and no memories.
The door opened, letting in a gust of fresh morning air and a man whose stature reminded her of the wooden bear. His nose and cheeks were reddened beneath his stubbly beard by the cold outside. His hair was black, and his skin had been tanned by the sun, but he still seemed pale compared to herself. His dark navy eyes twinkled heartily, and his smile, when he looked over to see her awake and watching him, was wide and warm.
“So, you’re finally awake. Mildred was worried you wouldn’t make it. You’ve been out for a couple of days,” he explained in a deep, warm voice. It was soothing. The girl got the impression she ought to remember this man, but nothing came to mind.
She opened her mouth to ask him who he was, but not a sound left her mouth. Shocked, she grabbed her throat.
She tried again. Still nothing. Her voice was gone. Or had she ever even had one in the first place? She couldn’t tell.
The man, noticing her panic-stricken expression, shut the door and walked over to her.
“Are you alright?” he asked. The concern in his voice and the situation as a whole brought tears to the girl’s eyes. She pointed at her throat. He understood.
“Ah, you can’t talk? That’s alright, don’t worry. My name is Colm. A little girl from a village nearby found you. She said she saw you fall from the sky and that you had wings which disappeared when you hit the ground,” Colm said, raising an eyebrow.
Wings disappeared? The girl stared at the man in shock. But she could feel them aching, couldn’t he see them? They were right there!
She tried to move them to bring them into view. With another shot of pain racing through her back, the muscles moved.
But no wings.
Frantically, she almost dislocated her shoulder in an attempt to touch the place on her back where her wings should begin.
The man watched her pensively as she realized her wings really were no longer there.
Her back felt smooth; there was nothing that even hinted at the existence of a set of wings on her body except for the pain in her muscles. Had she imagined it? Was her only memory false? But Colm had said this girl had seen her, so surely it must be true. As she fought through her panicked thoughts, Colm rummaged a little in the kitchen, only to return a minute later with a steaming beverage. He handed her the cup. It smelled sweet, soothing.
“Careful, it’s hot,” he warned. He watched her blow on the brew to cool it down with a strange expression on his face. Eventually, he asked “Do you have magic?”
The girl searched her few memories but there was nothing about magic
. Helplessly, she shrugged. Colm nodded, somewhat deflated. Upon her inquiring gaze he explained “If you had magic abilities, there would be a way to communicate without having to speak out aloud…” he trailed off. “But no matter! Tell me, what’s your name and where are you from? If there is someone I can contact for you, don’t hesitate to let me know. Here, can you write it down for me?”
He handed her a sheet and a quill. The girl looked blankly at the paper. There was nothing she could tell him. Instead she wrote the honest words: I don’t know. Colm caught on quickly. A sigh escaped as he leaned back in the chair he had pulled up for himself, one hand over his eyes as if he was trying to hide reality from them.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got amnesia,” he groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The girl shrugged, feeling as though she had done something wrong. Trying to make herself smaller, she looked down at her hands. Colm chuckled. “Hey, don’t look so glum.”
She cautiously lifted her gaze, only to see him smiling at her.
“I’ll help you figure it out. I can organize a place in a nearby village for you to stay for a while, or you can stay here if you like. But you might need a name. I feel silly calling you ‘the girl who fell from the sky.’ Do you remember your name at least? Or a name you would like?”
She shrugged unhappily. A name. How could she find a name?
After a moment of quiet pondering, Colm’s face lit up.
“How do you feel about ‘Lilith’? You see, Lilith means ‘of the night’ and well, the storm you appeared in, made day seem like night. And it’s a pretty name.”
Lilith smiled and nodded. Upon an impulse she leapt up to throw her arms around him. She wished she could speak to express her gratitude.
“Just make sure to let me know if you remember anything about yourself, anything at all, alright?” he added as she released him from her embrace.
Lilith nodded. She sincerely hoped she would regain her memory. It seemed to be something people needed. But what if she didn’t have one? A past? Had she perhaps only just come into existence, exactly the way she was? But no, her body bore marks of history. For instance, she had noticed bright pink, almost white scar that stretched from her elbow to her wrist in a straight line on the inside of her left arm. She found herself wondering why her skin was so much darker than Colm’s. Maybe he wasn’t very healthy.
For a moment they looked at each other. At first, Colm looked thoughtful, but then a smile flashed across his features.
“How about you stay with me for a while? Based on your complexion, you must be from the north, but your hair doesn’t really match that. I’ll be honest, I’m a bit curious about you,” he confessed. “So how about it?”
Lilith wasn’t sure what to say, so she tilted her head to one side.
“The people who live around here are honest and kind. I’m sure you’ll feel right at home. Although, of course I’ll try to help you remember where you’re from , but even if you do remember, you’re welcome to stay here. Does that sound alright to you?”
Lilith, who had been listening attentively to his little ramble, nodded gratefully. She was glad that there was someone there for her who knew what he was doing. She took Colm’s hands and pressed them against her forehead. She hoped this would convey her feelings accurately.
After a short, silent moment, she let his hands go and smiled at him with tears in her eyes. Then she yawned. It came as a surprise to her and a little squeak came out. Quickly, she drew her hand to her lips. Colm laughed.
“So you do have a voice! I would like to hear more of it once you figure out how to use it again. But I think you may need some rest now. I’ll make you another cup of tea when you wake up, alright?”
Lilith managed a somewhat affirmative noise.
Colm smiled. “I like your voice,” he said. “It sounds lovely.”
*****
Months passed by in a flash.
Lilith had recovered her ability to speak and she felt completely at ease with Colm. They joked around and spoke about everything. He had given her a room to stay in upstairs in Violet Cottage, and she helped him out wherever she could. He looked after a couple of goats who gave milk in turn for food, and loyalty in turn for friendship. Lilith felt that “ownership” was probably not the right term to describe it. She had noticed that Colm saw the world in terms of balance. Everything had cause and effect, and everything was an exchange of some sort. She had asked him about that after just a few days of living with him.
“It’s like breathing,” he had explained. “You don’t just keep breathing in all the time, no, you have to exhale, too. First you take, then you give. But both of them belong together. You can’t have one without the other. Your life begins with taking in your first breath and it ends with letting go of the last one. When you take something from somewhere, something has to replace it. I give the goats a home to sleep in, safety, and food, and they give me their milk and loyalty. Like light and darkness: A light is brightest in the dark and a shadow seems blackest when you came from the light. It’s all about equilibrium, you see? Without that balance, life doesn’t work.”
Lilith had also found out other things about the older man. He had lived alone until she had fallen from the sky, and he was somewhat of a person of authority up in these mountains. There had been several people who had come by to pay their respects to him, to ask him for advice or help or to bring him offerings and gifts. All of them held Colm in high regard and he accepted it without any arrogance. As the only mage in these parts, he was important to all residents since he kept them safe, could converse with the rest of the country without having to leave his hut, and was thought of as a wise and thoughtful man. His kind and compassionate nature only enhanced their respect for him.
Sometimes people asked him to come and heal their ill, and he did, asking for nothing in return. On occasion he was asked to hold an official speech, but he always declined, grimacing while scolding them for treating him like some kind of superior, instead of as an equal, because really, he was no different from them aside from his magical talent, and he had been born with that.
Usually people rebuked this by pointing out that he had been trained to be a mage by the late advisor of the recently deceased queen, may they be where they belonged, and that the current advisor came by for a visit rather a tad too often to be disregarded.
Mildred, the girl who had seen Lilith fall from the sky, also came by the cottage a lot to help and learn from Colm since he had discovered her natural talent for magic. Her specialty lay in healing and water magic. She had quickly taken a liking to the new girl in the house and whenever Colm was busy, Milly, as she preferred to be called, would take Lilith by the hand and show her the surrounding area or present some new trick she had learned. It was early on one of those excursions that Lilith found out that apparently not everyone chatted with the goats the way she did, or actually listened to a bird’s song quite the same way she could.
The two of them were laying in the grass on a hill, just watching the clouds slowly drift by, when Lilith heard a scream for help. She jumped up to look around, but she couldn’t see anyone. Wondering if she might have been mistaken, she hesitantly sat back down.
“What’s wrong?” Milly asked, confused. “Did you get stung by a bee?”
Lilith shook her head.
“No,” she said. “Did you not hear someone shout?”
Just as Milly was about to reply, the scream echoed once more.
“There! You heard it, too, did you not?” Lilith said and strode briskly toward the source. Milly hastened to keep up with her.
“Um, all I heard was a bird. Are you sure you’re alright?” the little girl inquired, concern infusing her expression.
Lilith paused for a moment, and turned to her with surprise.
“How do you know it is a bird? Do you know him?” she asked.
Milly stopped as well. Confused, she scratched her cheek. “It sounded like a bird i
s all. I mean, all birds pretty much sound the same, don’t they? I mean it was just that kind of sound,” Milly cupped her hands around her mouth and made a sound, without using her lips or teeth to shape the words.
“Tree-morning-yellow-patriarchy?” Frowning, Lilith tilted her head. “That made no sense, I do not understand what you are trying to say. Come on, we should not waste time on this nonsense, that bird might need our help.”
Before Milly could respond, Lilith was moving again. After a short moment of quiet contemplation, Milly shrugged and trotted after the older girl. A few moments later, Lilith knelt down and carefully picked up an injured raven. Its right wing was angled in an unnatural manner. The bird flapped helplessly a few times, trying to get away.
“Do not worry,” Lilith tried to reassure it quickly. “We do not mean you any harm. Could you tell us what happened? My friend may be able to heal your wing if you let us.”
The raven ceased its wriggling for a moment to assess them with black, distrusting eyes.
“Stupid humans,” he grumbled. “As if you could understand if I told you anyway. You’re all the same, you big, stupid giants! Think you’re smarter than us, just do whatever you want, why don’t you. Act as if you would actually like to hear an answer, well guess what, here it is, and you don’t even know! Just run along, nothing to see here, move along and just leave me here. I’ll be fine, oh yes, surely, I’m just one poor little injured raven, of course I’ll be fine.”
Lilith couldn’t help but smile at the sarcasm the raven’s reply was drenched in.
“I know you must be in pain,” she said diplomatically. “And I certainly wouldn’t leave you just lying around, injured as you are. It is just that I heard your shout for help, so I came. Please, let my friend heal you.”
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