Shadow’s Wrath (Demon Generals Book 1)

by Gia Tsiknas

  GIA TSIKNAS

  SHADOW’S

  WRATH

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events

  are entirely coincidental.

  SHADOW'S WRATH

  First edition. November 20, 2019.

  Copyright © 2015 Gia Tsiknas.

  All rights reserved.

  Dedicated to my all in all.

  May this story never contradict

  the words you have spoken to me.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE: HUNTER

  VENGEANCE

  TAKEN

  CARAVAN

  CHAINS

  POACHERS

  CAMP

  SHAME

  CROSSROADS

  DEMON

  TRUTHS

  KNIGHT

  ESCAPE

  FREEDOM

  LAMENT

  GIFT

  FALL

  HERITAGE

  WINGS

  DESPERATE

  RETURN

  BETRAYAL

  OBSESS

  DRAGONS

  ICHAM

  SHADOW

  BONDED

  HUNT

  COUNCIL

  CHAINS

  RETRIBUTION

  FIGHT

  PLAN

  ZAFIRAH

  MARIONETTE

  PROGRESS

  PROLOGUE

  HUNTER

  The summer moon shone large and faded, filtered through the mist that blew from the harbor. Machi’s dark cloak sheltered her slender, adolescent physique from the light-posts standing sentry over the long, straight streets of houses in Den’s Silver District. Brizna followed, glancing between the buildings, his lanky legs awkward from sudden growth as he tried to keep pace with his best friend.

  Shadows danced between the poles and the wicker lamps atop them, briefly illuminating a lock of hair that had fallen from Machi’s hood. She flinched, then took it between her two fingers. It wasn’t her natural white but dyed black. Hopefully the dye would throw off anyone interested in a red-eyed girl. They would think her a bastard, or an anomaly, or a half-blood.

  Anything but Drakian. Machi turned to examine the worn two-story abode. A balcony jutted out above their heads. She sprinted, kicked off the wall, snatched the veranda’s railing, and flipped to safety. Brizna paused only a second before clumsily following her then shuffled to the doorway to check for any traps.

  He nodded and Machi slid a thin, dark-steel knife into the latch and pried it open. Her mind reeled, listing the steps of her training. They had one chance at entering the guild. If they failed…

  She slipped into the dark house. Brizna followed. The plain room spoke of past wealth tainted by recent Bags, Black Guild moneylenders, claiming their unfair debts. They snuck to the bed. A man lay sprawled on the wide expanse of the straw mattress. The blanket coiled around his limbs like a snake. Brizna glanced to the bedside table and saw a portrait of the man holding a rambunctious toddler. He bit his cheek and shifted his eyes to his friend.

  Machi stood over the man. Her gaze fixed on the rhythmic shift of his chest.

  Too simple. Machi observed the knife in her hand. Months of training, weeks preparing, and in one moment; one slip of the dagger and it was done. The man snored in front of her. Images flashed in her mind of the Gray Demon, a scare-tale come to life, stabbing her screaming mother. His horned dog tearing through flesh as her father tried to stop the assault. She ground her teeth.

  Brizna touched Machi’s shoulder, and she jumped. She took too long. Every second she did nothing risked discovery. Machi pried the coiled blanket away from the man’s chest and held the blade over his heart. One push and she could do it; she could find her parent’s killer.

  Machi willed her hands to move, but couldn’t. She clenched her eyes her parents’ screams echoing in her ears. Their deaths as she ran from their killer weighed heavy on her back. She pushed the images away.

  Today I am an avenger, a bringer of justice. Today I start my Hunt for the Gray Demon. She vowed and opened her eyes.

  Machi punched the dagger deep into the man’s heart. He jerked then lay still. Machi pulled the knife from the body. Now all she needed was a token for proof.

  Machi stared at the man’s hand, a silver cuff wrapped around it, etched with the dragons of her people. It was a heritage band made for the chosen prophets of Raboni. A god who had abandoned them. Her heart grew colder.

  She severed the man’s hand at the wrist and placed it in a dark leather bag around her waist. She then carefully pulled the silver band from the stump. Machi cleaned her blade on the man’s blanket before putting it back into its sheath. She stowed the bracelet in her cloak, then stepped backwards, vigilant for any splatters of blood. As Machi turned to leave, she spotted Brizna staring at the corpse his face ashen.

  What was he thinking? His own initiation was complete. He had found the man she was targeting. Trackers did not have any part in a Hunter’s kill, but Brizna had insisted on coming with her on her initiation. Was he regretting his choice to be here?

  She gripped his arm and pulled him to the veranda. She forced Brizna to descend first before following him. Her heart fluttered as her thoughts strayed to the stab, the warmth of the blood, the icy feeling of control.

  One step closer. She reached the bottom swiftly enough.

  “Machi, why are you smiling?” Brizna’s voice quavered.

  Machi tried to school her face to stoicism; to the face a Hunter would wear. She checked her cloak to give time to form a suitable reply then pulled up her hood.

  “It’s nothing. Your mind is playing tricks.”

  “Right.”

  Machi could tell Brizna did not believe her, but there was nothing to do about it now. Not while her power stained every thought.

  “Let’s return to the inn. We will report our success during the Black Boast tomorrow, then swear in after they confirm our work.”

  Machi moved down the quiet streets, listening for Brizna’s quick steps behind her. Images of the past plagued her now; of their escape, their struggles, their pain, their promise. As she heard him follow, Machi sighed. She noticed a lone lamp swaying in the wind, its protective glass walls shattered and open, the wick no longer aflame. Machi smiled and continued on her way.

  ***

  The midday sun hid behind the clouds casting Brizna in shadow as he strode through the lower markets of Den. Machi followed as they walked past boarded shops.

  It was fall solstice, the marking of a year’s turn to the dark chill of winter. However, the residents of Den knew this day as a different occasion, the Black Boast. The capital’s underworld roamed the streets unharried, free to conduct their illegal affairs with no cover of darkness. Anyone, be they resident or foreign, street-urchin or gold-citizen, who dared profane the Boast were skinned and hung atop the Guildhall. It was a brutal but clear message of the Don’s power in the city.

  Tension crackled in the air as hundreds of folk dressed in black roamed the streets, mingling with a smattering of normal citizens. The design of black cloak or dress labeled the individual as one of the Black Guild’s professions.

  Brizna, in the lead, glanced at a group of thuggish men idling near a woman, trying to entice her to part favors. He pulled his stained, brown travelers cloak closer. His hand traveled to his empty belt, gritting his teeth. Machi followed closely on his heels.

  “Calm down, Briz, you know those who attend the Black Boast must come unarmed.” She gestured to the empty sheaths and belts on the thugs’ waists. “We’ll be fine.”

  “I know.” Brizna snapped.

  His hazel eyes scanned the stree
t. Black-cloaked people filled the cobblestone pathway despite the closed shops. The group of thugs sported the single-layered cloaks of Tanners, boorish hulking men hired for added muscle, if the price suited them. The woman wore a black lace dress with a plunging neckline marking her a Maid, although the generous amount of skin was enough for Brizna to know her profession.

  He blushed.

  Machi pinched him hard, her red eyes flared in anger.

  “Pull your thoughts from the gutter, we have work to do.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything!” Brizna rubbed his arm. Machi already turned away. Her own travel-weary cloak covered a small sack.

  A tall, thin Hunter passed, as silent as the death he dealt. The man’s face and physique was shrouded with a deep hood and a multi-layered, mottled black cloak. Machi’s eyes followed the man.

  Now it was Brizna’s turn to pinch.

  “Stop gawking like a farm-girl.”

  Machi rolled her eyes and followed Brizna as he continued down the street further into the crowd.

  They passed a slave market, the gruff auctioneer belting out the value of a young female slave on the wooden dais. A line of children stood to the rear of the stage shivering, their eyes dead. Only one still held the spark of life, untamed and vibrant, waiting for an opportunity. The girl’s hair was the vibrant brown of autumn leaves, fringed around gray-green eyes as cool and unperturbed as the forest itself.

  Brizna glared at the Poacher holding the chains. He remembered the day their village was attacked. When they were run down like dogs by Poachers and marked for slavery. He took a step forward.

  “We can’t make a scene.” Machi caught his arm.

  “They’re children.” He snarled, trying to tug free, eyes still trained on the guard. “No one deserves this.”

  “No one cares.” Machi hissed, glancing at the crowd. Once the auctioneer sang out the final bid they marched the girl to her new handler.

  Brizna cursed. What would have happened if his godmother, Erilia, hadn’t taken them in when they escaped the caravan? Would they have been paraded about like cattle for all of Den to see? Brizna seethed but let Machi pull him away.

  The girl with the forest eyes stepped onto the stage, her smile impish. A Poacher whispered to the auctioneer as the girl surveyed the crowd. With a shrug the auctioneer addressed his audience.

  “Today we have a catch for you fine city men. Before you stands none other than a child of the Wood Folk.” The crowd shifted uneasily.

  “There ain’t no Wood Folk. They be tales for children and simpletons. Next you’ll be sayin a Drakian with their pet dragon be in your grip!” A squat man yelled.

  A few of the crowd tittered in amusement. Others murmured curses and spat on the ground. Drakians from the northern mountains, with their red eyes and snow-white hair, had disappeared overnight. At least, if you believed the town drunks. Everyone else called them demons and claimed they were fairy-stories. Nobody had seen one in over a decade, and few believed dragons existed at all. Although, sometimes you would see a shock of white hair or the flash of red eyes in a newborn. Stories would circulate of a great-grandmother or a long-lost aunt that once claimed to be from Drakia, their blood muddying the line of Denarians.

  Brizna frowned and glanced to Machi. She stood stock still, fingering her hair as her red eyes stared resolutely at the ground.

  “Shut up, Handon, th’ man speaks true. I’ve seen Wood Folk ‘fore, and I can vouch this is one.” A Tracker in his knee-length black and gray cloak drew the shadow’s eye on his forehead and spat on the ground.

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd as Brizna stared at the girl. She looked to be only ten with pale skin and features that fit a porcelain doll, absent the Denarian’s signature angled jawline or brow. The auctioneer pulled back the girl’s brown locks revealing the telltale point that marked the Wood Folk. He gave her ear a sharp tug to prove its authenticity. The girl yelped, spitting out a series of words Brizna couldn’t understand.

  “Bidding starts at 3 gold pieces,” The auctioneer bellowed.

  Brizna flinched. That was three years’ wage for an average worker. A fortune for homeless vagabonds like him and Machi.

  “We break her free.” Brizna whispered so quietly Machi almost missed it. His mind built and discarded multiple plans as he spoke. “Then take her to Eri, and—”

  “No!” Machi snapped. “Eri is good enough, for a Broker, but she’d be the first to tell you this was foolish.”

  Brizna ground his teeth as Machi took his arm and pulled him away. Perhaps he could persuade Eri. She seemed to hate the trade as well. But these were sanctioned Poachers. What if the guild banned her? As a Broker she sold information as well as goods. Would her livelihood be destroyed? Could he risk her life in Den after all she had done to help them? For strangers?

  A small crowd moved away from the dais. Some Hunters drew the shadow’s eye on their foreheads and turned to leave. Few people wanted to mess with the Wood Folk and their curses. Word had it they lasted for generations.

  Machi and Brizna dodged through the waning crowd, heading for the main drag that led to the Guildhall.

  Brizna turned back to the stage and froze, slipping from Machi’s grasp. Machi growled as she turned to see Brizna staring into the slave’s eyes.

  “Heed the call, weary searcher, and you shall not fall to the shadows.” The girl’s whisper was melodic, drowning out all other sounds.

  “What call?” He whispered back.

  The slave girl smiled. “Time is not a friend to those targeted by a demon.”

  Machi stepped between them and slapped Brizna.

  “Wake up!”

  Brizna blinked.

  “Shadow take us, I will kill you if you let that witch hex you without a fight.”

  “Why’d you slap me?” Sound came crashing back to his ears. He put his hands to his head as the noise pounded at him.

  “You wouldn’t answer anything I said. You’ve just been staring at her witch-fixed, as she mumbled on stage.”

  “You didn’t hear her?” Brizna dropped his hands as he became accustomed to the bustle once again.

  “No.” Machi snapped. She looked spooked. Machi sighed and pushed him with one hand toward the street. “Let’s just keep moving.”

  They knocked into someone and Brizna winced. The woman, dark-skinned and clothed in the draped garb of the southern people, flicked raven-black hair off her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. Her sapphire eyes flitted between Brizna and the slave before resting on Machi.

  “Don’t be hard on the boy.” The woman’s smile was open and disarming. “When she deigns to speak it’s hard not to listen.”

  “We have business.” Machi tugged Brizna’s arm as he stared at the southern woman.

  “You know her?” Brizna gestured to the girl on the dais. “What did she mean about a call?”

  The woman smiled and shifted the pack slung over her shoulder. She pulled out a bell from a pocket and handed it to Brizna. “Perhaps our paths will cross again. Raboni bless.”

  Brizna took the bell, and the woman pushed through the mob closer to the stage.

  “Superstitious, freaky southern—”

  “Machi!”

  Machi glared as the woman walked away then continued pushing Brizna through the crowd.

  “Raboni this, Raboni that. Doesn’t anyone get tired of talking about an invisible god?” She pulled her hood higher, hiding her black-dyed hair in its depths.

  Brizna frowned as he watched her furtively glance around. Why was she so touchy about the Temple of Sevens and their teaching? Raboni was considered a benevolent god who fought and sealed the Shadow and his demon generals. He may not be popular in the science-driven capital, but people didn’t fear him. Not like in the past.

  Brizna and Machi passed quickly through the streets, making their way into an ever-growing sea of people.

  “Throw that in a ditch. Who knows what magic she put on the thing.” Machi broke through his
musings.

  “It may come in handy.” Brizna slipped the bell into his pocket.

  “Shadow take me, you will kill us both.” Machi pulled Brizna aside as they came to an ornate three-tiered mansion, the Black Guild. “You ready?”

  Brizna’s face was ashen. Machi looked tense. Her smile was painted on and fake. He took a deep breath and nodded.

  They stepped inside.

  ***

  The interior of the mansion was exotic woods, expensive furnishings and polished floors, but Machi could see little of the grandeur through the mob of people. Tables were stacked neatly along the walls, making more room to pack in the building. Along the far wall sat the Fingers of the Don, the heads of each profession in the guild. A line of Crusaders, the Don’s personal enforcers, pushed back the crowd, calling order to the proceedings. They wore gleaming black armor, a dark parody of Aguden’s silver-clad military.

  One by one, a bald Crusader would pluck a person from the crowd and place them in front of the Fingers.

  “Did you hear bout the demon’s latest?” Laughed a man to her side. She froze, trying to listen in without looking too interested.

  “Don’t tell me you believe those rumors.” Another man scoffed. They both wore a Tanner’s cloak.

  “Tis true!” Insisted the first man, his words slurring a bit as he guzzled a flask of spirits. “My cousin’s own sister swears by it. Her neighbors up and disappeared overnight. Could only be the Grey Demon.”

  Brizna flickered his eyes to the two men and back at Machi.

  “Mayhap they ran from a Bag, or Poachers.” The second man shrugged. “No need to stir up talk of a scare-tale.”

  “But the house is untouched!” Insisted the man, sloshing drink on his friend. “Seen it meself. Everything in place like they went out for a spell and never returned. Bags won’t leave the house with all the valuables, and Poachers leave a struggle.”

  The Grey Demon was here? In Den? Machi seethed. She would find him. With the guild’s help she would find him and make him pay. Machi turned and took a step toward the pair of Tanners. A hand touched Machi’s shoulder. She turned to glare Brizna full in the face.