Shadow’s Wrath (Demon Generals Book 1)

by Gia Tsiknas

A wide field lit by a dying sun.

  The copper tint of blood, crusty over swollen, decaying bodies. The wail of one child, drowned out by the chattering of feeding crows as they fought over their meal. No greenery, just an expanse of bodies packed over the earth.

  The final remnants of a bloody battle between empires.

  A sky transformed from blinding white to the decaying red of a setting sun.

  ***

  Zafirah blinked, and the vision faded. She bit the inside of her cheek hard, forcing the vision back at a greater speed.

  She stood in a pristine room, empty of furniture save one chair and desk facing a glass wall. The lead alchemist stood by the chair. Notes were strewn about the desk.

  Crone stood to Zafirah’s left, decrepit in her cowl and drab robes. She jerked, as if pulled from an inner thought. Her eyes narrowed, and she glanced at Zafirah, her mistress, dressed in brilliant blue and gold. The pendant that Zafirah wore was clear with the faintest tint of red in its center.

  Zafirah stared at the glass wall. Beyond it, pacing its small room, was a boy with blue-tinted skin. His eyes were a bi-chrome yellow and red, devoid of pupils, giving him a crazed look. He wore a dirty shift that came to his knees. As the boy paced, his face came into view, deformed and furred. Patchy white hair clumped around small horns sprouting from his temples.

  Zafirah’s head ached, but she pushed the pain away.

  “Report.” She ordered the scientist next to the desk. He jumped and Zafirah realized that she had already given that order, and he had already answered. “A summary of your current findings, please.”

  The man frowned but reported again.

  "B-11 has shown much more progress than the other experiments. He shows higher signs of being receptive to bison samples than lupine or avian. We expect his body to be ready for the final stage soon."

  "Mental capacities?"

  The scientist sighed. "Lower than O samples, but he shows more cognition than A-17 and L-12."

  "So a failure." Zafirah sneered. She stared at B-11 with distaste. The success she sought was still so far away. One was not enough. After a moment Zafirah turned to the alchemist. "Add factor D to his regimen."

  The scientist squeaked. "But adding dark serum to his unstable body may cause B-11 to unravel just as the others."

  Steel entered Zafirah’s voice. "Do you wish to join your precious samples?"

  The scientist stammered and squeaked assurances as Zafirah and Crone left the room. Anxiety seized Zafirah’s mind.

  Too slow. Too few. Too far away. There wasn’t much time left. The visions that took over her mind were coming more often, and they lingered. Triggered as they were by the most obtuse face or gesture, it was impossible to fight.

  Zafirah’s mouth twisted into a grin unbecoming of a monarch. She recalled her last session with Brizna. The defiance Brizna had shown was feeble and fading away.

  She came to the dungeon stairs and descended.

  ***

  Her face: smiling, laughing, crying, angry. The little things taken for granted; the way she can’t stop fidgeting when she is thinking, the way she scowls when she’s embarrassed and turns away to hide her blushing face. The softness she shows in her eyes when we talk, just talk about anything.

  Brizna knew water dripped on his cheek, knew that he was lying on straw in a dungeon where his life was not his own. He knew his resistance was being choked by the torture that woman was putting him through. But he wouldn’t dwell on it. He refused to break. With shards of his broken magic and weary mind he created a place for himself, a mental haven. He longed to see her again.

  But he wouldn’t give up; wouldn’t lament. He would hope; survive. She was waiting, and he would return.

  When Brizna opened his eyes, he saw an expanse of gray. No shapes or colors broke the depressing landscape. There were no shadows, no depth that told him if the gray spanned forever or ended scant inches from his face. He looked at his hands, the only color in the world of gray.

  Choose. A small voice whispered.

  As soon as the word broke the silence a myriad of voices clamored in his mind. They yelled, begged, demanded, and whispered. They drowned out his thoughts. He clamped his hands over his ears hoping to block it. It didn’t work.

  You can do this.

  Why must you fight?

  Traitor!

  Please help me.

  Just focus on the future.

  Who are you?

  I know this will work out.

  No need to resist.

  I’m lost.

  I’ll kill you!

  It’s futile.

  Where are you going?

  Don’t die.

  You’ll never amount to anything.

  I’m alone.

  Survive.

  Confusion warred in Brizna’s mind. Once again, the small voice spoke up. The others quieted their fervor.

  Choose.

  Brizna spun around and almost smacked into a little girl. In his disoriented state he almost thought it was Etsuko, but it wasn’t.

  Machi as he had first met her stood before him. Her wide eyes were fearful. “What will you choose?”

  Emotion filled him and he fell to his knees, head hanging. The little girl knelt before him, trying to peer into his face but his eyes were closed.

  "I choose," Brizna opened his eyes and looked up to see Machi, grown, kneeling before him, concern riddling her face. "You."

  Machi smiled and took one of Brizna’s hands, whispering.

  "Thank you." Her body blew away like smoke and a weight landed in Brizna’s hand. He looked down at a rapier. It glistened blue as if chipped from quartz. A soft reminiscent voice whispered to him, and he listened as it repeated words to him like a mantra. I will return to her. I will survive.

  Brizna closed his eyes, drinking in the words, refilling his fighting spirit. When he opened them again, he was no longer in his cell, but in a torture chamber, Zafirah standing before him.

  Her face twisted in a cruel smile, but Brizna detected a desperate edge to it. She lifted her hand to her pendant, and it shone blue. With careful deliberation she signaled forward a girl. Her skin was pale green and patchy with scales. She had introduced them a few days earlier, after his body could not endure more physical torture.

  Aalas held out her hand. Ghostly gray snakes appeared, emerging from her shadow, climbing her body and off her outstretched arm onto Brizna. He tried to move away, but leather straps held him to the table he lay on.

  The shadow-snakes hissed and burrowed under his flesh. The chains of a devastating depression and despair weighed on his consciousness and he closed his eyes, only to open them again in the expanse of gray. His worn instincts told him he would not surface to the physical world again if this continued.

  Faint whispers to his mind made him look down at his hands. He held the crystalline sword from his dream. Or was it a dream? It whispered into his mind, bolstering his wearied will.

  The snakes writhed before him, hissing in agitation. They mashed and transformed into a shifting form of shadows, sucking the vitality he had just gained.

  Fight.

  Brizna raised his sword and charged.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  RETURN

  Den. Machi grimaced as she landed between two shadowed buildings.

  She surveyed the nighttime streets as she shook out her tired muscles. She let her wings spread out and relax in the shadows. Machi had flown for a full day straight, and her body wasn’t used to it. It surprised her that she wasn’t hungry, only a little thirsty. She had eaten nothing since before her journey.

  Apparently, I’ve gained a few more abilities along with flight.

  Flying had been relaxing. Like long-distance running, once the pace was set, she felt as if she could have gone on forever with no problems. Machi mulled over her abilities.

  Okay, I have wings and loads of endurance. Maybe if I pushed myself, I could continue flying with no food or water for a longer ti
me.

  Machi resettled Brizna’s swords and her knives on her belt. Taking a breath of rich air, Machi felt dizzy from the rush of oxygen. The air had been thin the higher she flew.

  Tucking in her wings Machi secured her cloak on her shoulders. It was chilly against her warm, scaly flesh. Machi checked her weaponry one last time and prepared to step onto the empty street.

  I should get some baggy clothes so I can hide my wings easier. Until then the cloak should work.

  She stepped out from the alley and started off in a random direction, trying to get her bearings while not sticking out.

  Nice job. Raboni said.

  What, you’re back? Machi growled. I liked the silence and solitude.

  Raboni chuckled. You’re never truly alone.

  And why am I not comforted? Machi snapped.

  Ah, but you will be. Anyway, I believe you have earned the title of ‘the fastest learner’ as well.

  Yeah, well, I need to know my limits, if I want to survive.

  Don’t you tire of being so disagreeable?

  Don’t you get sick of being so ‘all knowing’?

  Raboni chuckled.

  Machi caught sight of a sign.

  “The Gold District.” Machi cursed and started marching southeast. The district was a nice-looking area, well-kept and fancy compared to two of the other three districts of Den. Most people would think fewer guards meant less danger. Machi hurried, refusing to stop as her ribs started to burn in a cramp.

  Gold was the sorcerer’s district. And sorcerers hated outsiders. They took an interest in their own twisted experiments, only noticing people if they wanted to use them as guinea pigs. People like Machi. Machi knew for a fact that death was preferable to enslavement to Gold sorcerers.

  She sniffed in disdain. Not that they are truly sorcerers. They didn’t use magic at all or they’d be doing much more damage. They were scientists, alchemists and necromancers. The only ones with true power were necromancers, and they were the most unstable of the group.

  Most people with magical potential would move to Platinum District, the richest of the four districts, for training and education.

  Machi relaxed a little as the scenery changed to that of cracked, run down streets and collapsing warehouses. Trash littered the streets and abandoned houses lined the road. Drug users lay, passed out, along the road.

  Welcome to the Silver District. She thought to herself.

  As disgusting as the people and the scenery was in Silver, Machi couldn’t help thinking this was the most preferable of the four districts of Den. Platinum may be rich and secure from bandits, but was filled with backstabbing, two-faced politicians and merchants. Science-crazy maniacs controlled the Gold district. Black was fine, if you didn’t mind mobs and pirates, and being in the center of the Black Guild. Silver was the safest. No bandits raided it. There was nothing to steal. There were no backstabbers, no one was sober enough. There’s no need to fear becoming a pet project.

  Machi spit on the sidewalk.

  She stayed on the main road, then crossed a few overcrowded parties. Red and blue explosions of light streaked up into the night sky. A man stumbled along the sidewalk, every so often falling onto the ground, screaming. He came in front of Machi, raving.

  “We are under attack! The flames of war are upon us! Run! Run for your lives!”

  “Beat it, old man.” Machi growled.

  The man refused to move, begging Machi to run as he cringed and cowered after every firework.

  Machi shoved him and left him sprawled, unconscious on the street. A twinge of pity came across her mind, but she shrugged it off. This is a place where the strong survived and the weak went mad.

  Machi made it to Eri’s shop. But it looked different.

  Gone was the clutter of items vying for attention. Instead neat rows of slates spelled out a handful of wares. Machi frowned and walked through the door.

  Colorful rugs and tapestries draped the inside of the room. A few artful tables lined the sides, with a single circled desk in the center. One of Eri’s clerks manned the desk.

  The woman cried out as Machi walked past her and straight to the door in the store’s rear that led to Eri’s private rooms. “You can’t go in there!”

  Machi ignored her and kept walking until two large thugs stepped into her path. She glared at the two men. The thugs cracked their knuckles.

  “Now, do you really want to get in my way?” Her red eyes glowed in anger. They took a tentative step backward. “Let me go see Eri, or I step over your cold corpses.”

  Machi balanced herself. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she ignored them.

  She relaxed from her stance as the door behind the goons opened. Eri stepped from it, followed by a cloaked man. The man strode from the store. She held a glass of spirits in one hand. Machi frowned again. A silver line traced Eri’s mouth.

  “Well, well, I see a rat made it into your shop, Eri.”

  Erilia froze, her eyes widening in panic. “Machi, dearest, so good to see you.”

  She gestured to the thugs who cleared the room of the two remaining customers.

  “Why don’t you join me for a drink?” Eri’s voice was a touch too high for the occasion. Machi watched as the room emptied. The two bruisers escorted the clerk away, leaving Eri and herself as the only occupants. She turned to her once friend.

  “I trusted you. We both trusted you.”

  A thin bead of sweat trickled down Eri’s cheek as she took a swig from her glass. “Come, sit with me, and we’ll catch up with old times.”

  With a shaking hand Erilia beckoned Machi to her inner room. Machi stepped inside and Eri followed, pulling the door closed.

  “You sent me into a trap, Eri. A carefully laid one at that.” Machi’s eyes glowed with her anger. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now?”

  Erilia’s glass shattered as hit the floor. She was stark white. She pulled a call bell next to the door. After a moment she requested drinks from someone on the other side, then closed it.

  The minutes dragged on as Machi glared at her old friend.

  “What secrets did a no-name Broker like you spill to get the sign of the Silver Tongue in a few weeks?”

  “Weeks?” Eri sputtered. “You’ve been gone months, and when I didn’t hear from you, I figured you had died or disappeared. Why stick out my neck farther?”

  Machi frowned. Months? “You didn’t answer me, Eri. Why do I walk into a trap and come out to find my friend wearing the silver of a snitch?”

  “Don’t you tell me that! I had to scrape and claw to earn a living here. Collateral damage, nothing more.”

  The door opened and Lua walked in holding a tray of drinks. Machi lurched to her feet, her wings flaring out, knocking the chair over.

  “Lua!”

  Lua jumped, sending the glasses onto the floor, splashing the drinks everywhere.

  Machi paled. Lua looked different, older than at the camp. Her hair was now shoulder length; her green eyes flashed. She wore only a little darkening powder on her eyelids making her green eyes vivid. Her dress was v-neck bodice with long flowing sleeves. Her loose skirt swung down mid-calf over her leather boots.

  When Lua caught her train of thought she set her face into a polite smile, and she turned to Eri. “I apologize. Your guest took me by surprise. I’ll return with more drinks.”

  As she bent to pick up the mess Machi flicked her finger. The cups and tray gathered together and flew to land on the desk. They were filled with fresh drinks. The stains on the floor dried and vanished.

  Lua froze, arranging her shock into a facade of graciousness. “I appreciate that.”

  Machi didn’t take her eyes off the girl. Emotions warred in her mind. What had happened? She bit back her questions. Did she even have a right to ask? Eri, noticing the tension between them, relaxed. “I believe you two have met?”

  Machi nodded. Feeling the cool air on her wings she pulled them under her cloak. She studied both Lua’
s and Eri’s expressions, wondering if they had seen her new feature. They both gave no sign that they’d seen anything unusual beside a flying tray bearing cups. In fact, Lua’s eyes continued to flicker back and forth between Machi and the tray as Eri took a hefty swig from one.

  Are my wings invisible?

  They will be seen by the one who needs to see them first.

  Why?

  Machi turned to Lua. The silence stretched for an age and Eri let it. Machi spoke. “I’m sorry.”

  Lua tensed. “You’re sorry?”

  “I found her rigging some of my spare parts as a trap for her pursuers and gave her a place to stay.” Eri cut in with a wink. “Like a certain fleeing couple we know so much about.”

  Machi winced. Eri sat straighter and sipped her drink this time. She was back in control and nothing else would slip.

  Machi cursed. She had been so close to answers.

  “Now back on topic.” Machi turned to Eri, her eyes fixing her in place. She wouldn’t let that control back so easily. “Explain yourself.”

  Eri’s smile was strained, and she sighed, letting her eyes sink to her glass. “You’ve made a very powerful enemy, sweetie.”

  “Who?”

  Eri turned to Lua. “You can leave. If you hear this, I can’t guarantee your safety, hun.”

  Lua’s mouth hardened, and she turned an accusing glare at Machi. “I want to hear it all.”

  Eri nodded and shifted in her seat. She seemed to deliberate on taking a drink, but she didn’t lift the glass to her lips. “As you know, the silver stops me from speaking clients’ secrets. But as this is common broker knowledge, it won’t kill me. It will get me blacklisted if this gets out, though. I’m telling you this, so you realize the risk I am taking, and so you understand that I value our relationship more.”

  "Talk." Machi sneered.

  Eri leaned back and started.

  “The night before you showed up on my shop’s doorstep I had a visitor. Gold-tier kind, and no, I won’t give you a name. She’s good enough, and she only came with a warning. She told me that someone was targeting a Hunter I knew, and that they needed to leave town as quickly as possible. When you stumbled in ranting about scare-tales and with Brizna missing I figured my informant was right.”