Demon Slave (Shadow Quest Book 2)

by Kiersten Fay

  Nadua stroked the edisdon’s neck. “Come on girl, we’ve got a ways to go.”

  * * *

  The chit hadn’t looked at him all day, besides some strange gesture toward him that he didn’t think was meant to be a, “Hi, how are ya?” No doubt she was licking her wounds from the night before.

  A seductress she was not, although those long legs of hers were mouthwatering. Marik cursed. Remembering her silky thighs had his body aching again. She might need work when it came to seducing a man, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have her writhing under him in an instant, her screams of passion in his ear.

  He hadn’t meant to frighten her so badly, but her indifference toward torturing him had pushed him to the Edge almost immediately. His memories had closed in, nearly choking him with their revulsion.

  To his surprise, he had calmed enough to keep himself in check. He’d never been on the cusp of the Edge and had it stamped out so quickly.

  He wasn’t sure, but he suspected the terror in her eyes had something to do with it. In his hazy mind, he remembered feeling like it was wrong for her to fear him—which was ridiculous. Of course she should fear him. She was his enemy, and all his enemies should fear him. It was every demon’s motto.

  He’d watched her through the cold bars all morning, trying to figure out why he should be so conflicted over her. Women never enticed him this much. It had been a while since he’d last taken one, but that wasn’t unusual.

  She remained at the front of the pack, riding on top of her creature and ignoring him thoroughly. Her clothing was the same as always, thick fur that looked similar to the thing carrying her. Didn’t she realize it made her stand out among the group?

  Yesterday, she’d rode out as if on a hunt, but came back empty handed. Marik could smell nearby wildlife, even now. If they had been hunting for food, they should have come back with something. Surely they could at least hunt.

  Unless the creatures on this planet were more intelligent than he was currently giving them credit.

  Next to him, one of the guard’s overgrown rodents stopped to lower its head to the ground and began rummaging its snout in the snow. Cursing at the edisdon, the guard pulled hard at the reigns, but it didn’t budge. Another man rode past in high spirits and smacked it on the ass with the flat of his sword. The beast grunted as it jumped forward, bits of snow covering its face.

  Nope, not intelligent, at all.

  As morning shifted into late afternoon, they entered an expanse. The path dipped between a thick forest of gnarled trees with thick black trunks and empty branches.

  Something in the crisp air caught Marik’s attention. He peered past the thicket, into the snowy depths. There was movement there, so subtle he almost missed it. Marik eased onto his knees to get a better look. It could have just been an animal.

  Suddenly, the woman stopped, raising her left arm in the air. Like a wave, the solders halted and all eyes focused in the direction she was looking.

  It was the same direction that claimed Marik’s interest.

  She eased her bow from her back and nocked it with an arrow. Following her example, the guards pulled their weapons.

  For a moment, everything went still. Marik listened hard but heard nothing. Yet the woman seemed to have zeroed in on something past the trees.

  Slowly, she pulled back her bow. A few guards with arrows mimicked her, while others looked back and forth, unsure what to do.

  Then, from behind the trees came a unified cry. Bodies rushed out of the forest, brandishing swords and daggers. All were on foot. Their skin gleamed with the same blue tint as his captors.

  Finally, the woman let her arrow fly, planting it firmly in the forehead of her target. He went down instantly. She reloaded and shot again, as did the other archers. Together they must have taken down twenty men, but the swarm—Marik estimated fifty or so—were still coming.

  “Hold position!” she yelled, while continuing to fire arrows into the horde. Another three down. Those who didn’t carry a bow had their swords at the ready. After a few more seconds, she hollered, “Now!”

  Her men surged forward, slamming into the oncoming barrage. The familiar sounds of metal clanging against metal and flesh ripping filled Marik’s ears while his heart picked up speed. An odd urge to get to the woman, to protect her, nearly overcame him. But he should remain where he was. It would be wise to wait out the melee, and not let his captors know he could break from his cage.

  He glanced over the crowd, toward the woman. It seemed that she was properly guarded, a half-circle formed at her front, blocking the attackers from coming near.

  It was hard not to notice how well trained she was in the art of battle. She’d taken the high ground and was dropping her opponents with ease. For some reason, the sight made him smile, until he noticed the movement at her back.

  More attackers were emerging from the forest behind her. No one else noticed.

  Then suddenly, with a sound like lightning, a thick sheet of ice sprang out of the ground, separating the woman from her guards. Marik blinked twice.

  What the hell?

  * * *

  Nadua let her last arrow fly before she noticed the threat at her back. The damn rebels had them surrounded. She should have seen it coming: this was the perfect location for an ambush.

  Suddenly, Sweetie’s head shook and the edisdon’s footing became erratic.

  Nadua held on. “Shh, Sweetie. Steady.” A thick chill tickled the back of her neck.

  She gasped.

  It couldn’t be possible!

  But when the ice began its swift ascent, she knew it to be true. Her heart sank. A Kaiylemi was with them, a master of ice.

  As the small group of rebels closed in, another ice sheet burst from the ground behind them. A frightening sound boomed from the demon’s direction, causing Sweetie to buck underneath her.

  “Tamir!” she called, her voiced laced with panic.

  Tamir, along with all her other guards, were on the opposite side of the ice. But before any of them could make their way around it, more gleaming towers exploded skyward, their path clear.

  A glacial cage was forming around her, trapping her to face approaching rebels alone.

  Quill empty, Nadua stowed the bow on her back and unsheathed her sword, urging Sweetie toward the six attackers.

  Gathering speed, Nadua swung her sword, slashing the throat of the first she reached. Red spilled down his torso as he fell. The next one wasn’t far away from the first, and she jabbed her sword into his jugular.

  Sweetie slowed to a stop, corralled by the remaining four Cyrellians. Before Nadua could pull her blade from the rebel’s spewing neck, hands were pulling at her from both sides. Cold metal sliced through her right leg, running all the way through to the edisdon’s flesh. The beast made a horrific sound and reared back, knocking off both her and her attackers.

  Nadua landed hard, losing her grip on the hilt of her sword. After a quick sweep around the snow with her hands, she scrambled to her feet empty handed.

  Her four remaining adversaries had recovered as well. She reached for her dagger, but found the holster was empty.

  One of the rebels smiled then, holding her own dagger in his hand. “Looking for this, Highness?”

  Nadua backed away, contemplating her next move. With no weapons at her disposal, she would resort to hand-to-hand combat. With four armed opponents, she knew she hadn’t a chance, but she would do as much damage as possible while she could.

  Ava’s image flashed in her mind and Nadua wished she had told her how proud she was of her before she’d left. She mentally apologized to Fineas for failing him. Her father’s face came next, flanked by her mother. She was struck with regret that she would never again see their smiles.

  From the large opening above, a stray arrow landed at her feet, still intact. Before the rebels could react, she had her bow out, loaded, and aimed at the men. “I’m taking one of you with me, at least. So which one will it be?”


  A massive roar shook the ice walls. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a blur of motion through the translucent barrier. A harsh bang reverberated around her. Where the shadow was, the ice cracked. Unsure what was happening, Nadua kept her arrow trained on the rebels, who were slipping each other confused looks.

  Another loud crack thundered out. A section of the barricade splintered in all directions and began to crumble. An immense body stepped inside.

  A quick glance told her it was the demon, red eyed and horns ablaze.

  Stomach churning, she took in the sight of him. He looked as he had the night before and she remembered now why she had been so frightened of him.

  Great! How do I get out of this one?

  What was better: being killed swiftly by rebels, or ripped apart by an angry demon?

  One of the men called out, “What the hell is that?”

  “That’s a fucking demon!” another answered. “Kill it!”

  They all turned to him, momentarily forgetting Nadua. She glanced at the rebels and then turned her gaze to the demon. His sharp fangs were prominent, and his body seemed to have increased in mass. Bulging muscles strained through his torn shirt. He looked at her then, and her eyes met with molten fire. The unimaginable pain promised in their depths had her heart slamming to her throat.

  She released her arrow.

  “Damn it, woman!” the demon grated.

  Her arrow had landed in his neck.

  Lurching forward, he plowed through the four men. The one who had snatched her dagger used it to slash at the demon’s side just before the demon tore out his throat. In the same instant, the demon’s hand whipped out and snapped the neck of another rebel. The last two fled for the exit.

  They didn’t get far. The demon lunged after them and kicked out his leg, planting it directly in the middle of a rebel’s back. The last Cyrellian made the mistake of looking back at the sound of his friend’s spine cracking. The demon caught hold of his head with the palm of his hand, ripping it back, and twisted until a loud pop rang out.

  Nadua hadn’t taken a breath. The whole scene had left her frozen in awe and fear. Now the demon turned to her and she forced herself to gather her wits.

  Kneeling in the snow, she frantically searched for her sword.

  He was approaching her slowly, probably figuring she couldn’t put up much of a fight. And with the exit at his back, there was no way she could make a run for it.

  Sword, sword, where is that damn sword. Ah, there you are.

  Her hand gripped cold metal.

  Just as she lifted it, a voice called from behind him in the Cyrellian language. “Halt, demon!”

  More of her soldiers poured into the enclosure. The demon, whose red eyes were beginning to dull, was still focused on her.

  Speaking so he could understand, she said, “Don’t move, demon, or my men will kill you where you stand.”

  He ripped the arrow from his neck. A stream of blood began to drip. “You shot me!”

  “Of course I shot you! You may have gone for them first, but I have no doubt that I was next.”

  “I just saved your life, woman!”

  “And I’m so sure that was your intent. How did you get out of the cage?”

  The demon looked incredulous for a moment, then his gaze slid to the small, yet growing, stain of blood at her feet. “You’re hurt.”

  Some of her soldiers noticed too and began looking her over.

  “It’s nothing,” she assured them. She had always been a fast healer. Though the wound was deep, it should be healed in a couple of days. “Tell me how you got out?”

  For a moment, she thought she caught amusement flash across the demon’s face. “Faulty lock I guess.”

  “Your Highness!” Tamir approached, hauling one of the rebels along with him. “We’ve captured one.”

  “Only one? Is he the Kaiylemi?”

  “I don’t think so. We killed many, but most ran off like cowards when...” He motioned with his head at the demon.

  Outside the ice, Nadua glanced around at the carnage. Fallen bodies—some her own men—were strewn everywhere. White stained with red. They would gather their fallen before moving on, and bring their bodies back to their families.

  What a useless war this was. So much wasted life, for nothing.

  And what a perfect time for the first signs of the storm to show itself. Small flakes began to settle around them.

  Chapter 6

  The tent walls snapped as they fought the strong wind. The storm had started mild but quickly turned fierce, forcing the group to stop and take shelter.

  Marik sat in what was fast becoming his usual place, tied to the stake in the ground. The captured bandit sat across from him in a similar position. Surprisingly, he spoke Demonish. Said he’d learned it during the demon war.

  Marik had been trying to gather information from him for hours, but the bandit, Jedar, seemed disinclined to converse with him—his prejudice was just as deep as the others. But then Marik had promised to free him when he was ready to escape, and the man started talking.

  After learning that his people were called Cyrellians and that they were at war with each other, Marik convinced Jedar to teach him more of his native language. Still, he was in no way fluent, but he was able to gather a basic understanding.

  Speaking with Jedar kept Marik’s mind from drifting to that ungrateful fur ball. At the time, he’d been shocked that she had used her last arrow on him.

  On him!

  That infuriating fear back in her eyes. Later, when he calmed, he realized what he must have looked like.

  Worse, she continued to treat him with the same disdain, as though he hadn’t just taken out four of her heavily armed foes. The burns he’d received from their frozen skin were just beginning to heal. Marik thought she would have shown some appreciation. Instead, she went to inspect his broken cage and ordered him placed in another.

  Why had those bandits singled her out, anyway? And where the hell had that ice sprouted from? He posed the question to Jedar but the bandit just narrowed his gaze and jutted his chin in the air.

  “Then tell me, why are you fighting each other?”

  “The false queen,” Jedar replied. “The one you saved today.” He spat in the snow.

  “That sasquatch is your queen?”

  “She is no queen of mine. You see how she binds herself in hides. She is not one of us, yet she rules absolutely. She must be removed from power, so the true queen can lead us.”

  Marik spoke his next words in Cyrellian, testing out his knowledge of the language. “Interesting. Where they take us?”

  “You learn fast, demon.” He sneered. “So did your brothers, as I recall.”

  Marik switched back to Demonish, “I’m sure they did. So, where are they taking us?”

  “The palace, in the city of Sori.”

  “Is that where the queen lives?”

  “The true queen lives there, as well as the false queen. It’s a city of luxury and advantages, but not for us, demon. We will only see the dungeons unless you get us out of here. You’ll have a place with my people if you vow to fight for our cause. I promise.”

  “Won’t they want me dead for preventing the ‘false queen’s’ death?”

  “I can explain to them. You didn’t know what you were doing. You saw only violence and had to partake, as is your nature.”

  Marik kept his eyes from rolling. “As promised, I’ll get you out of here, but I only want to find a lost girl and to leave this planet. Have you ever heard of someone who goes by the name Nadua?”

  Jedar tilted his head quizzically. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it as the tent flap flew open and two guards entered.

  * * *

  Tamir stepped into the prisoner’s tent, followed closely by Nakul. The two captives turned a glaring gaze at them, and the demon bared his fangs.

  Tamir ignored him. If he had not escaped by now, then it wasn’t going to happen. What a disapp
ointment he’d turned out to be.

  The demon should have been able to free himself from those ropes. If he had, his primitive mind would have sought out the closest female body. And since Nadua was the only female around, it should have been the perfect plan. Even if he didn’t kill her afterward, Tamir would have done it, and made it look like the demon’s doing. Now, with the arrival of the rebel, a new plan was forming.

  Beside him, Nakul asked, “Shall we set the demon loose since he can’t seem to do it himself? I thought you said they were strong?”

  “Apparently this demon is not like the others. He’s had his chance and failed. We have a rebel here who would not hesitate to kill her if he were free to do so.”

  The rebel turned eager, watching them with hopeful skepticism.

  “When everyone wakes in the morning, she will be found with his dagger in her chest, and the rebel will be gone. The obvious will be assumed, and we will return home with the sad news of the queen’s assassination.”

  “You wish me to kill the false queen?” asked the rebel.

  Tamir scoffed. “Do you think I’d trust someone so easily captured with such an important task? The only thing you will be doing is running back to your clan with your heart still beating.”

  At Tamir’s gesture, Nakul moved to cut the rebel’s bindings. “Now leave, and tell your friends who to thank when the rightful queen is finally in power.”

  The rebel bowed. He made a comment to the demon in its crude language, before stepping through the exit. Peeking his head back in, the rebel asked, “What about a weapon?” Tamir gave him a dangerous look and the rebel backed away. “Right. Good luck, then.”

  Nakul spoke up. “What do we do with the demon? Should I kill him?” He palmed the hilt of his sword.

  “Not yet. In the morning, the soldiers will look to me for leadership, and his death will be my first act. It will raise the spirits of the men after they find their beloved queen dead.”