Ominous Odyssey (Overworld Chronicles Book 13) Page 32

  My stomach tightened in apprehension. Mother would not be happy. I straightened the mattress, looked for the sheets, and found them neatly folded in the closet. I placed them on the bed.

  "What are you doing?" Mother said from the door.

  Startled, I spun to face her. "Preparing the bed, Mother."

  "Is it bed time?"

  I almost looked at the floor, but forced my eyes to stay on hers. She despised looking away even more than Mr. Goodleigh. "No, Mother."

  Her eyes caught on something and hardened. "You damaged the floor."

  "An accident, Mother."

  She stepped into the room and approached me until her nose was only inches away. "An accident," she hissed. "What did I tell you to do?"

  "Change into work clothes and go to the farm."

  "What did you do?"

  "I prepared the bed."

  Her lips pressed tight. When she spoke, her voice was low and cold. "Nearly twelve years of age and you are still as stupid as the day you arrived here. Are you incapable of learning, or do you simply not care?"

  I didn't respond because I knew from experience she didn't want me to answer.

  "I believe you are guilty of incompetence and apathy." She turned and walked back to the door. Without turning to face me, she said, "Put on your work clothes and go to the farm. You will be punished tonight." With that, Mrs. Goodleigh left.

  I shivered. The room felt cold from her anger. I tried not to think about what form of punishment awaited me. The Goodleighs were very inventive. Sometimes the punishment was psychological. Other times it was painfully physical. They seemed to know what worked best on each child in their care.

  After quickly putting on my clothes, I walked as fast as I dared—Mrs. Goodleigh didn't allow running in the house—and left by the back door. I felt cold prickles on the back of my neck and looked over my shoulder at the house. I saw the Goodleighs watching me from a second floor window. Averting my eyes back to the dirt road, I forced myself not to shake.

  I always end up back here.

  The dirt road led between several wooden buildings. Stands of oaks bordered the area. Between the trees, I saw open pastures where the livestock grazed and wondered how pretty it would look in full color.

  The chicken coop stood to my left. Hens pecked in the dirt while a bantam rooster colored with several shades of gray kept a watchful eye. He had long spurs on the backs of his legs and liked nothing better than to fly at anyone who dared come too close to his abode. Gathering eggs required a quick hand and agile reflexes. I had neither, and usually resorted to swinging a metal bucket to keep the vicious cock at bay.

  Pigs snorted and rooted in the mud in their pen on the right. They were huge creatures, some of them with long curving tusks like wild boars. Thankfully, their feeding trough was easy enough to reach by standing on the fence. From there, I could pour the slop along the length.

  Brickle enjoyed telling new residents a story about a boy who enjoyed snorting and throwing things at the pigs. He would climb atop the fence and antagonize them into a frenzy. One day, he'd fallen in and the pigs had eaten him, bones and all. I didn't know if it was true, but had little doubt the pigs could tear me limb from limb if I did fall into their pen.

  The sheep and goat pen, now empty, stood next to the pigpen. I saw William and Stephan mucking it out. Their wheelbarrow held a large pile of dung.

  William looked up and saw me. He nudged Stephan. "Hey look, Killer Conrad is back!"

  "How did you kill your fosters this time?" Stephan asked. He jabbed his pitchfork into the ground. "Did you stab them?"

  William made a whooshing noise. "I'll bet he set them on fire."

  Brickle exited the brown barn behind the two boys. "No talking during chores." For someone so large, his high voice always surprised me.

  The two boys immediately got back to work, shoveling dung as if their lives depended on it.

  I approached Brickle. When I drew near, I stopped and waited.

  He looked me up and down. "Still puny." He poked me in the shoulder, nearly knocking me over. "Still weak."

  I recovered my balance but said nothing. My fists wanted to clench and my jaw wanted to tighten, but to do so only invited more pushing. Brickle saw such body language as a challenge to his superiority. He enjoyed putting me in my place. I kept my eyes straight ahead and waited.

  "The chicken coop." Brickle pointed to the building. "Clean it."

  "Yes, sir." I turned and went to the red barn across the dirt road from the brown barn. Though I couldn't see the colors, it was what everyone called them. From inside I took a pitchfork, a small shovel, and a metal bucket. I hoped to slip past the rooster and into the coop so he wouldn't chase me. I could probably close the door, but the fumes inside would quickly overwhelm me without fresh air.

  I stepped back outside the red barn and turned toward the chicken coop. The sound of a stomping hoof pulled my attention back in the opposite direction. At the end of the dirt road near the compost pile, I saw the old bull staring me down. What is it doing here? It was either supposed to be in the pasture with the cows, or locked inside its own pen.

  Thankfully, the bull had never been aggressive, except for the time William had mistaken it for a cow and tried to milk it. The bull had not taken kindly to the attention.

  I wondered if I should notify Brickle. A strange light seemed to dance in the bull's eyes. The animal bellowed loudly and, without further warning, charged me. I froze with shock. Why was it coming for me? What was wrong with him? Dimwitted as I was, even I knew to run from the path of this raging beast. I dropped the tools and pushed against the door to the red barn but it wouldn't budge. I rammed my shoulder against it, but the door didn't move an inch and only made my shoulder ache.

  The bull sped past the other outbuildings. I turned toward the sheep pen and ran. I climbed over the fence and ran through the mud toward the opposite side. William and Stephan were gone, perhaps into the brown barn. I went to the barn door and tried to open it, but like the red barn, it was also sealed tight.

  I wondered if someone was playing a prank on me, or if this might be my punishment. The Goodleighs had used the farm animals many a time to punish me and the others. I heard a loud cracking of wood and turned as the bull crashed through the fence. I cried out with fright as the beast veered toward me.

  Bos Taurus. Temperamental.

  "What?" I shouted. The strange thoughts couldn't have distracted me at a worse time. I jumped to the side an instant before the bull gored me. The beast rammed into the side of the brown barn hard enough to make the building shudder. Its thick, curving horns plunged through the wood.

  I heard a loud pounding from inside the door of the brown barn and Brickle shouting something. There wasn't time for me to hear what it was, for the bull was already working its horns free.

  The manor was too far away. The barns were locked. As a last resort, I might be able to run into the oak trees and dodge around them until the bull tired or help arrived. I turned toward the trees and saw dozens of bovine eyes looking back at me. The cows stood behind the wooden fence. They pushed forward as one. The fence cracked and fell over. The line of cows moved forward in lockstep. With an angry moo, the bull jerked its horns from the barn.

  I ran straight across the pen. There was only one force mighty enough to take on the cows. I simply had to hope they didn't eat me before the bull reached me. I climbed the fence and leapt into the pigpen.

  A large sow squealed and ran from me, a group of piglets trotting in her wake. A large mound of mud shuddered and rose to reveal a monstrous boar. It snorted and pawed the ground. With a loud squeal, it raced toward me on stubby legs. The bull crashed through the fence behind me. When I turned, I saw its eyes flash bright. I had never seen such a thing. I might have stood and stared, but common sense prevailed.

  I ran for the boar. Footing was treacherous in the thick mud. My breath came in ragged gasps, my legs wobbled with fright. I felt certain I would die.
Why should I care if I die? Nobody else in the world cares. The thought nearly made me pause. Perhaps this was the fate designed for me, crushed between a boar and a bull in a muddy pen. The others would remember me if only for the entertaining story.

  Weak as I was in mind and body, my survival instinct proved strong. As the two beasts thundered my way, instinct took control of my legs and leapt me out of the way. The bull and the boar crashed hard into each other with an awful bellowing squeal. Something hit me hard on the back of the head. My face burrowed into the muck and I slid forward several feet.

  Strange symbols flashed behind my closed eyelids. I remembered seeing some of them during a math lesson. Others looked completely alien. I might have wondered longer at this strange sight, but my mouth and nose were buried in the mud and I suddenly realized I couldn't breathe. I jerked my face up and spat while scraping the mud from my face. My hands were so muddy it took a little while.

  I felt warm liquid mingling with the cool mud. When I finally cleared my eyes, I saw thick crimson blood pooling where I knelt. I turned. The bull and boar lay in a huge heap. Blood poured from the bull's mouth. The boar lay on its side, its mouth hanging open, tongue lolling in the mud.

  Red blood? I can see color?

  The sow squealed and rooted at the boar. Her piglets danced around her feet, each one trying to reach one of her many nipples. Her skin looked quite pink beneath the coarse hairs on her hide. The oak trees looked bright and full of green leaves. It was as if someone had taken a gray landscape and painted the world.

  The herd of cows meandered aimlessly within the pigpen while some of the other swine dashed for freedom through the broken fence.

  Suidae suinae sus. Swine. Most notable for bacon.

  The strange words I'd been hearing in my head suddenly made sense. They were scientific classifications for animals.

  Yes, it's a pig. They are very tasty.

  We hadn't learned these classifications in school, so how did I know them? I closed my eyes and saw strings of mathematical symbols flowing like a river of nonsense. The schoolwork at the orphanage was rudimentary, nothing so advanced as this.

  I heard the mud sucking at someone's feet. Before I could turn to see who it was, I was lifted by my scruff and jerked into the air. Brickle held me in front of him, face red with anger. It was so interesting seeing the color in his face, I nearly forgot I was in trouble.

  The Goodleighs stood on the dirt road outside the pigpen. I could tell by the looks on their faces that the blame for this debacle rested squarely on my shoulders.

  My first day back was not going well at all.

  But at least I can see in color.

  ###

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  More books by John Corwin:

  The Overworld Chronicles:

  Sweet Blood of Mine

  Dark Light of Mine

  Fallen Angel of Mine

  Dread Nemesis of Mine

  Twisted Sister of Mine

  Dearest Mother of Mine

  Infernal Father of Mine

  Sinister Seraphim of Mine

  Wicked War of Mine

  Dire Destiny of Ours

  Aetherial Annihilation

  Baleful Betrayal

  Ominous Odyssey

  Overworld Underground:

  Possessed By You

  Demonicus

  Overworld Arcanum:

  Conrad Edison and the Living Curse

  Conrad Edison and the Anchored World

  Conrad Edison and the Broken Relic

  Stand Alone Novels:

  No Darker Fate

  The Next Thing I Knew

  Outsourced

  Seventh

  Mars Rising

  Chapter Meet the Author

  John Corwin is the bestselling author of the Overworld Chronicles. He enjoys long walks on the beach and is a firm believer in puppies and kittens.

  After years of getting into trouble thanks to his overactive imagination, John abandoned his male modeling career to write books.

  He resides in Atlanta.

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