The Anzu's Egg 2

  The Anzu’s Egg — Part 2

  A Relic Hunter’s Story

  J F Mehentee

  A note from the author

  The Zadrinesian Archipelago is set in an alternate world filled with much of our world’s Twentieth Century technology. There are, however, two exceptions: the archipelago lacks fossil fuels and semiconductor technology.

  You’ll soon notice the Relic Hunters Series is written in British English and is dotted with British expressions. George Bernard Shaw said, The United States and Great Britain are two countries separated by a common language. It’s my hope that, by the end of this novella and the others in this series, American readers won’t feel compelled to agree with him!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Another note from the author

  Fancy keeping in touch?

  1

  A crash from downstairs woke me.

  I opened my eyes to grey dawn light. I sat up from the table, my back stiff from falling asleep while perched on the edge of a dining chair. My first thought was that Leyakians had broken into the practice. But then I spotted the empty shoebox in front of me, and it took a few seconds for my sleep-addled brain to remember why Biyu had lined the bottom of the box with a hand towel.

  Cubchick has escaped, I told myself.

  I pushed my chair back and searched under the table, and then I scanned the living room diner and the spaces between the bookshelves. On my left, the bathroom door was closed while the bedroom door was ajar. I lifted my chair so as not to make a noise and got up from the table with its assortment of saucers, spoons and bowls. In case of intruders, I tiptoed to the bedroom for my lightening revolver.

  Biyu slept on her side and with her back to me. I checked the anzu hadn’t trailed after her. With no sign of the creature either on the bed or hidden under it, I let her sleep. The cause of the crash downstairs was most likely the anzu and not intruders. Just in case, I searched for my gun and found only an empty holster. I’d forgotten the Leyakians had taken it from me in Kazera. A kitchen knife, for peace of mind, would have to do.

  Close to the stairs, I glanced back at the living area and the mess on the dining table. In the eighteen hours after hatching, Biyu and I had spent hourly shifts feeding the anzu goat’s milk and, in the last four hours, milk and mashed chicken. The anzu hadn’t yet slept.

  Biyu had named it Cubchick—we found nothing in her books on how to determine an anzu’s gender. Based on how much the creature ate and grew, Chubbychick would have made a better name.

  I descended the stairs, curious at how the anzu had made it down them without hurting itself.

  Below in reception, dawn light poured through the practice door’s frosted window. I saw small tears down one side of my tee shirt. The little bugger must have climbed out of its box and then used me as a ladder to reach the floor.

  A metallic clatter came from the examination room.

  I checked the clock on the wall beside the door. It was six in the morning. Before entering, I flicked on the examination room’s light.

  The mobile shelves I used for holding sample pots, sterile instruments and acupuncture needles lay on its side. Thankfully, the box holding the needles remained closed. A lion cub’s face looked up at me with large guilty eyes, a wooden spatula in its mouth. The blue-grey of its irises had changed to an orangey brown, and its pin feathers were longer. More pin feathers replaced the down on its back. Since yesterday, it had doubled in size and looked to be a foot long from head to tail.

  ‘Look at the mess you’ve made,’ I said. Had I just scolded a mythical creature thought to be long dead?

  The anzu ignored the question. It turned. Its front paws padded on ceramic floor tiles while its scaled rear feet failed to find traction as it scrambled across the smooth surface. Its stubby wings, still covered in down, flapped while its paunch skimmed the floor. I decided Chubbychick looked sweet and ridiculous when the thief disappeared beneath the examination couch.

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ I said.

  I lay the kitchen knife on top of the couch and dropped to my knees.

  From the ring of cotton wool and spatulas beneath the couch, it had built quite a nest for itself. A paw rested on a pair of scissors. I reached in before the anzu could hurt itself.

  Chubbychick’s hackle’s rose. It opened its mouth and pulled back its lips to reveal black gums. Its hiss didn’t cause me to pull my arm back. The shelves rattling and the floor shaking did.

  Back in the temple district, Toojan, an ancient sorcerer and sage trapped in the body of an eight-year-old monk, had said the anzu had been the god Yahata’s pet and weapon. The creature caused earthquakes.

  ‘Did you do that, Chubbychick?’ I straightened my arm—this time, slowly. ‘Those scissors are dangerous. I’m going to reach for them—all right? I don’t want you to harm yourself.’

  Chubbychick meowed. Like me, it extended a paw, its claws out.

  ‘Don’t you dare. After all the food I’ve stuffed down your gullet. Don’t even—’

  ‘Sanjay? What are you doing?’

  The anzu scrabbled out of its nest. On its way past me, it left a greasy green calling card on my tee shirt’s sleeve.

  ‘You little…’ I complained.

  I crawled backwards, the ammoniacal smell of its poop burning my nostrils.

  ‘There you are, my cheeky chick,’ Biyu cooed.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Although I’d peeked in when the anzu first cracked open its shell, Biyu’s was the first face it saw. And, so, the anzu imprinted on her.

  I emerged from under the couch. Biyu held a contented Chubbychick in the crook of her elbow as if it were a human baby.

  ‘I dreamt there’d been an earthquake,’ she said.

  I rose, conscious of how Biyu wrinkled her nose.

  ‘Chubbychick thinks it’s a magpie,’ I said, pointing at the debris.

  The anzu held out a paw—its claws retracted. Biyu held the anzu closer to her and rubbed her cheek against its fluffy ear.

  ‘Cubchick, not Chubbychick,’ she said.

  I shook my head.

  ‘We shouldn’t even be using names,’ I said. ‘It’s an anzu, a living relic, an unprecedented discovery. Its mother might have been a god’s pet, but it isn’t ours. That earthquake you dreamt was real.’ I explained why. ‘It’s dangerous and now it can move around on its own, we have to get it to the Ministry. They’ll protect it from the Leyakians.’

  Biyu gave the anzu a squeeze, causing it to chirp.

  ‘Isn’t it adorable?’ she said, rubbing its ear with her chin.

  That word again. With all the excitement and feeding, I’d forgotten about Biyu’s declaration inside the cave back on Kazera. Biyu had adored her mentor and supervisor, Yeong-tae Pak.

  I strode round her and towards the stairs.

  ‘I need a shower and a change of clothes.’

  Upstairs, I stripped off and stepped into the bathroom. I gazed at myself in the mirror and saw how the bruise on my forehead from the Leyakian’s pistol butt had developed a yellow edge.

  Pak was a collaborator.

  That must have shattered any adoration Biyu felt for him, I said to myself.

  After I’d showered and changed, I entered our living room diner to discover Biyu had taken the remains of the chicken carcass from the refrigerator and left it on the table. The anzu lay on its back with its snout
squeezed into the chicken’s butt. From the carcass’s cavity came the slaps of licking. The anzu flapped its stub-like wings in time to the sound.

  I found the sight funny, although I knew the head-up-a-butt joke forming in my mind would result in Biyu calling me juvenile.

  ‘I was going to use the leftover chicken for lunch,’ I said, instead.

  Biyu continued to mash the chicken and goat’s milk together in the pestle.

  Without looking up, she said, ‘We haven’t anything for breakfast.’

  I scowled at the flapping anzu.

  ‘And it’s my turn to go shopping.’

  Biyu extricated the anzu from the chicken before it pushed the carcass off the edge of the table. She picked up the anzu, nestled it in her arm and plucked pieces of fat and meat from its snout.

  ‘The market doesn’t open for another half hour,’ she said.

  After eighteen hours of being cooped up in the practice, I fancied some fresh air and the chance to stretch my legs.

  ‘It’ll take me fifteen minutes to get there,’ I said. ‘And I’ll get a drink from the tea seller. He always opens before the other stallholders.’

  Biyu’s transparent third eyelids slid across her eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong, Jaybird? Are you jealous?’

  My mouth dried. Earlier, in the examination room, had I let down my mental shields? How did she know?

  Biyu stared at me, her mouth slightly open. The anzu raised a paw to touch her jaw.

  ‘I adore Cubchick,’ she said, and caught the anzu’s paw before it caught on one of her needle-sharp teeth, ‘but I adore you so much more.’

  I walked over to her, kissed her cheek and smiled.

  My being jealous of Pak had played havoc with my imagination. Pak had been a collaborator, and he was gone now. The sooner we figured out what to do with the anzu, the sooner I could get back to figuring out how to turn Biyu back into a human.

  2

  A third of the way down the stairs, a knock on the practice door made me halt. I glanced at the clock by the door. The practice didn’t open for another two hours. The door’s frosted window let in light, but it was impossible to distinguish any features other than a head.

  Whoever it was knocked again.

  I continued down, unsure of what to do. It couldn’t be a patient, and the hospital handled all emergencies. Perhaps it was Rahmat. Could the antidote have worn off so soon? I stepped past the reception area’s open counter, reached the door and stopped, my hand about to touch the topmost ward.

  Leyakians wouldn’t knock.

  I shook my head. It could be the Shani intelligence officer, Susilo Tarigan. I tapped the top, middle and then lower ward to unlock the door. Neither Tarigan nor Rahmat stood in the doorway when I opened it.

  ‘You!’

  The goatherd, the young woman Biyu and I had met on Kazera, swaggered past me. She still wore the homespun shawl, and a sheathed knife hung from her hip. There was no sign of the kid with the propeller tail, Tuki. I closed the door and sidled round her before she could step past the counter.

  ‘What are you doing here? How did you—’

  My voice hitched. Framed by the door behind her, I realised why I’d recognised the goatherd on Kazera. She’d appeared in the practice moments after Rahmat had arrived and his freedom fighter, Juddha, had pointed his gun at my face. Her repeated appearances couldn’t be a coincidence.

  ‘Who is it, Sanjay?’ Biyu called.

  The goatherd shook her head, and her eyes turned a bloody red.

  ‘It’s Mrs Thida,’ I said. ‘She says she’s forgotten which of her tablets she’s supposed to take before breakfast. No need to worry.’

  There’s a demoness down here.

  I’ll come—

  Stay there, I said. Keep Cubchick under control. If there’s trouble, I’ll let you know.

  I heard Biyu’s heavy footsteps above me as she dashed around the living area and tried to catch the anzu.

  The demoness’s eyes returned to dark brown.

  ‘You outwitted Pak,’ she said, taking a step forward. ‘I knew I’d made the right decision selecting you and your wife.’

  ‘Who are you?’ I said, keeping one eye on the knife hanging from her belt. ‘What do you want?’

  Disappointment crossed her face.

  ‘I expected better than that.’ She tutted. ‘A demon’s name is a word of energy. I have no wish to be summoned when you say it. Next time we meet, I might tell you a name I’m known by.’ She took another step. Her smooth round features had become angular, and her skin had turned the colour of ash. ‘I told the Leyakians about the anzu’s egg, and then I told them about Yeong-tae Pak.’ She raised a finger. Her fingernail grew, curled and darkened. Her arm straightened so swiftly, I didn’t see it until her talon stroked my chin. ‘I’ll tell the Leyakians to keep their distance, stay out of your lives, if you and Biyu find a relic for me.’ She lowered her arm. ‘Here, let me show you.’

  She tore the talon from her finger and dropped it. Blood the colour of ichor dripped from the finger and spattered onto the floor and talon. I had removed many damaged and infected fingernails from their nail beds, but I’d never seen a finger bleed so much.

  The demoness squeezed her finger to staunch the flow. Between us, the talon had disappeared to leave a pool of blood. The pool congealed, and its sticky edges began to furl. It caught the morning light and changed from black to tarnished copper. The pool continued to wind around itself until it resembled a foot-long bar. An inch in diameter, the ends tapered and terminated with an onion-shaped knob.

  The demoness held out her hand. The rod flew up. She caught it.

  ‘This is a copy of my father’s sceptre. Find the original and return it to me.’

  A fluctuation in temperature, coolness, brushed my cheek. Such variations often occurred when a patient lied about their condition or how it had occurred. This demoness wasn’t being straight with me, and I didn’t like being blackmailed.

  ‘And if I refuse?’

  A red glow burned behind the demoness’s eyes and grey smoke emerged from their corners.

  The demoness hissed and reached for my throat. My tattoos flared. I used an open hand to bat hers away. Her hand continued forward. Mine felt as if I’d tried to backhand a brick wall. Her hand clamped around my throat. She lifted me. Only the tips of my shoes touched the floor.

  I’d inhaled a lungful of air in shock. Her grip made it difficult to exhale.

  ‘If you refuse,’ the demoness said, ‘I will kill everyone you hold dear to you.’

  Bright dots of light appeared before me. If I didn’t do something fast, I’d pass out.

  The demoness’s grip tightened, and she raised me higher. My feet no longer touched the ground. She levelled the sceptre at me. Above me, footsteps dashed for the stairs.

  ‘Get me my father’s sceptre,’ the demoness said, untroubled by the sound. ‘You have three days.’

  The demoness’s eyes turned blood red again.

  Biyu don’t, I called. The spots of light grew bigger. She’s too strong and too fast.

  The bright globes floating past me merged, and I fainted.

  Something warm and wet touched my forehead and woke me.

  I opened my eyes and saw a pair of orangey-brown eyes. They scrutinised me for a second before the anzu returned to sniffing me.

  Slippered feet appeared.

  I pushed away the anzu.

  A hand slipped beneath my neck and helped me sit up. Biyu’s third eyelids swept across her green eyes.

  ‘She’s gone—hasn’t she?’ I said.

  Biyu nodded. She pulled me into a tight hug. The force of it knocked my head back. I swallowed a yelp of pain

  ‘Who was it?’ she said.

  I described my third encounter with the goatherd, the demoness.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Jaybird,’ Biyu whispered into my ear. ‘Cubchick went crazy. It kept trying to reach the stairs, like it needed to get down here. The
little devil even clawed me.’

  We stood.

  ‘What’s that?’ Biyu said. She picked up the sceptre I’d lain under.

  I rubbed my throat and had to cleared it before I could speak again.

  ‘It’s a replica of her father’s sceptre,’ I said, ‘and she wants us to find it. At least that’s what she said. It isn’t the truth though.’

  ‘I don’t care what she says,’ Biyu said. ‘I won’t let her get away with hurting you.’ Her fingertips brushed my neck. ‘We’ll find her,’ she continued, ‘and then I’ll put this sceptre to good use.’ Biyu led me towards the stairs. ‘Go up and rest,’ she said. ‘I’ll be in the vault to see if this’—she waved the sceptre—‘offers any clues.’

  I shook my head, and a bolt of pain rippled down my neck.

  ‘No—I’ll come down. I want to know who she is. She said she’ll kill everyone dear to me if we don’t find the sceptre.’

  Biyu activated the ward hidden beneath the third step and opened the door to the vault. She swooped up the anzu and carried it under one arm. Chubbychick pawed at the sceptre. Before descending the stairs, Biyu faced me.

  ‘Do you think she’ll do that?’

  This time, I kept my head still.

  ‘Demons don’t make idle threats. She was strong, Bee. Physically and magically. And she’s cunning. She’s pulling Leyakian strings for her own ends. That makes her extremely dangerous. We have to be careful around her.’

  Down in the vault, Biyu waited for me to sit at the table. She placed the sceptre on the tabletop and the anzu in my lap.

  ‘Hello, trouble,’ I said to the anzu.

  Seated on its haunches, it looked up at me with sleepy eyes. I stroked the fur between its ears, careful to avoid its pin feathers. Chubbychick yawned, the tip of its tongue curling, and then it flopped against me.