by A P Gore
She picked up the next bow; it was a medium bow.
Crude medium bow
Durability 15/15
Damage 7
Attack speed 1.1
Required level 4
It was better than the short bow but lacked the damage of the bow Magadha had shown her a few years back. The last time Magadha had visited, she’d taught Rihala some advanced archery techniques, like Precision Shot. Rihala had missed every shot on day one, but by the end of Magadha’s one month vacation Rihala was proficient in hitting her target with just one shot. It was too bad Magadha had to go, and she couldn’t give a bow to her. It was forbidden for a slave or his family members to use a weapon in Madurai.
She tried picking up the next bow, a long bow. It was the black bow that had attracted her attention on her previous visit. Unfortunately, it had a level requirement of 6, so she couldn't pick that up yet. That sucked, and ultimately her choice was made by her low level. She slipped the medium crude bow in her bag of holding—another gift from the lady Magadha. She had given Rihala her used bag of holding, which had 10 slots. Rihala hadn’t been able to sleep that night. She kept placing heavy things inside it and wondering where they went. Magic.
Next a pair of arrow tucked behind a glass box caught her eyes. They looked special, so she put them in her bag of holding.
She slipped a crude arrow quiver into the bag too before sneaking back out of the room and heading for the slave quarters.
Rihala, go back and put those arrows down. Mom wouldn't like you stealing. Her subconscious ordered her.
But how could she do that? She was turning 21 next year, and that meant she would be put in auctions. Nobles and merchants would line up to buy her for a few hundred pieces of gold, and once sold she couldn't even kill herself, as her parents would be forced to take her place. It was the curse written on the heads of slaves in the Empire of Zedusania.
The only option to save some dignity was to train up and prove her ability in the Art of Slaves show that happened before the auctions. It was a show run by the high priest to let slave kids show off their talents in front of the huge audience. No one questioned how a slave acquired an ability. If someone displayed good enough combat skill, he or she could be picked up by the noble responsible for the minor slave city force. Being in the slave city force would increase her chances of not getting raped by the nobles and their guards.
There was another advantage too. Displaying her abilities would increase her value. If she would fetch a good price for her mom’s owner, her mom would be freed.
She held these happy thoughts close as she entered the tiny room she shared with another demon female slave. She had only gotten these shared accommodations because she was traveling with the high priest. If she had come with a noble, she would have been given a place in the storage room.
Rihala had barely slipped between the sheets when a hand clamped down over her mouth.
Druid
The sheets were soft and cool against Rihala’s warm skin. Just as she was about to close her eyes, she heard a rustle and a sneaky footstep around her head. Before she could react, a hand covered her mouth, pushing her head into the lumpy pillow.
She tried to resist. It didn't work.
The intruder’s grip tightened.
The strong stench of orc entered her nose. All the delicious honey coated goat meat she’d had for dinner threatened to come up as the disgusting smell choked her. Her tail moved involuntarily to strike the intruder, but it was caught by a rough hand.
The intruder coiled her tail around his hand like a string, then bent forward, revealing himself.
Two reddish eyes came first, followed by a disgusting gray face tattered with wounds. Two fangs protruded out of the orc’s smelly mouth as he tried to speak.
Rihala couldn’t hear a word. Her heart tried to beat its way out of her rib cage, while her tail frantically struggled against her attacker. She had forgotten she had hands, and legs too.
Stupid me!
Spurred into motion, she clawed at the orc’s face, trying to scratch his eyes. It didn’t stop the brute though. He pushed his face closer to hers, overpowering her hands. His mouth widened in a smile as he stopped, inches from her eyes.
“Shush. I know your secret,” he whispered.
Rihala froze. What secret was he talking about? Did he see her stealing the bow? If she was caught with a weapon, her whole family would burn.
No, that's not possible. I didn't sense anyone near me when I stole the bow.
The smile on the orc’s disgusting face widened further as she completely stopped resisting him. He was uglier and smellier than any orc she had seen in her whole life. She hated him.
“I’m taking my hand off your mouth,” he said. “But if you shout, I’ll tell everyone that you stole from the weaponry.”
The orc released her, but then something happened to his face. It started changing. Two horns protruded from his gray forehead, and then the color of his face changed too. It turned brown. She couldn’t see the transformation clearly in the dim light of the room, but it still wasn’t pretty.
Rihala sat up as she watched the horrific transformation of the orc into a demon male. He was almost six feet tall and wide as a pine tree trunk. He wore cheap leather armor and gray pants. The symbol of a black hawk was embossed on his chest armor. He was a guard of the town of Xynnar.
Rihala glanced at her roommate sleeping on the other bed. A strange light encapsulated the orc's transforming body, and she feared the other demon girl would wake up.
“Don't worry. I cast a spell of sleep on her.” The now demon man had a grumpy voice, much more annoying than his voice in orc form. It evoked another thread of disgust in her heart. Yes, she hated this man.
“But you are a guard. My mom says…”
He put his now smaller hand back over her mouth. “Meet me in the forest outside of town tomorrow afternoon.”
“Why?” she asked as soon as he lifted his hand again.
“I have a task for you.”
She quickly cast perception on the guard.
Level 6 Druid
Life 500
Spirit 350
He was druid. That explained his shapeshifting ability. It also told her she couldn't beat him in a straight fight. He was too strong for her.
He bent forward, invading her personal space. The nasty smell of what he had eaten in his orc form lingered on his breath. “If you don’t come…” His face inched closer to her. His lips brushed past her ears. “I’ve captured your act of theft in a sceneorb. I can always show it to the head demon and ask him to put you in the dungeon.”
She gulped the bile that rose in her throat. His words were full of threat, and if he had a sceneorb there was nothing that could hide her thievery.
“Take this map with you.” He handed her a piece of parchment.
As she looked at the parchment, it turned into dust and a map of the forest of Xynnar appeared in her own map view. The magical view of the map and other sections in it was something no one could explain to her. Everyone said it was the gift from the gods to let them use the magic to participate in the Battle of Faiths, an ancient battle when every goblin and demon nation of the continent fought against each other. But the only winners of that battle were humans and elves, who were in the minority before the war between goblins and demons, but they seized the opportunity and expanded their territory everywhere. There were ten demon empires before the war, but now only four remained.
“Do you understand, Rihala?” The guard once again brushed his lips against her ears.
She cringed and pushed him away. She wasn't strong enough to kill him, or she would have done it by then. On the day she entered adulthood, her mom warned her that she would face such creeps, and that she must stay strong and fend them off. But how was she going to fend this creep off? If the proof got out, no one would be able to save her and her family.
She nodded to him. There was no other option.
> The guard patted her shoulder before leaving. When he was gone, she wanted to wash her whole body to get rid of his disgusting smell, but she couldn’t take a bath in the middle of the night. She went back to her bed instead, but sleep wasn’t going to come to her. She was doomed forever.
Decision
A rough, cold hand was touching her cheeks when Rihala opened her eyes the next morning.
“Rihala, wake. It seven in morning. Master need tea. He won't happy.” The soft sound of her roommate Sierra’s voice echoed in Rihala’s ears as she gazed up at the patchy wooden ceiling. It was much worse than the slave rooms of the palace where she lived in Madurai.
“You awake, Rihala?” Sierra called her name once again.
Rihala tilted her neck to gawk at the nice friendly woman standing next to her bed. Friendly and caring, like her mom. Sierra had been working in the council kitchen for the last twenty years, even before the town was annexed by their king. She was a head slave who put her faith in the master of the council hall, not in her previous owner. Behind Sierra’s dark brown eyes, Rihala could see some pain. Pain that never showed in her actions in the last four days Rihala had been sharing the room with her. She had every quality of the demon Rihala's mom would call a perfect slave.
Rihala wasn't a slave, not yet. She would be soon, but that was the law of the land.
For now, she was still a minor, and minors were owned by their parents until the day of auction. Her mother and father worked for High Priest Jethro. Her mom was responsible for the high priest and his wives’ food, and when Jethro had to travel to the border town for some official work, her mom had asked her to accompany him. Her mom put her in charge of the special medicine required by the high priest after dinner. High Priest Jethro suffered from a nasty curse and needed an antidote every night after dinner, and she was here to remind him of that.
“I don't need to serve tea.” Rihala focused her eyes on Sierra’s petite figure. Strong and composed. If she compared herself to Sierra, she would call herself a desired fat demon female. Something she started understanding after turning sixteen.
“You talk good. Kid.” Sierra brushed her fingers through Rihala's long silky black hair, reminding Rihala of her mom once again.
“Level up, and you would have a good tongue too.” Rihala smiled at Sierra. Despite being fifty years old, Sierra was only a level two maid. She had forgone her warrior base class and chose to progress in her profession instead, like thousands of other slaves. It was all good when it came to serving their masters, but it also meant they would not level up in their base class and wouldn’t get stat points. Without stat points, getting a good tongue was impossible.
Rihala's mom was different. She had progressed in both her base class as well as her profession. Maybe that's why she was in charge of the high priest’s personal needs. Because of her, her family enjoyed renowned status among the slaves.
When Rihala turned twelve, her mom told her about the importance of leveling up, and from that day onward Rihala pushed herself to level up. She was going to level up more, maybe even reach level 7 by the time this month-long trip ended.
It all sounded good, and she was on track. The only issue was the demon guard that visited her last night, tossing her plan out the window.
Thinking about him made her good mood deplete in no time.
“You got High Priest. You can do. I can't.” Sierra scattered Rihala's hair once more. “I go. My master not like delay. Get ready.” A beautiful smile spread across the old lady’s freckled face before she left.
Rihala forced a smile at Sierra's back, then dropped her head back on the rough pillow.
Now what?
Rihala checked the map. The location of her meeting with the druid was marked on it. It was off to the south of the town, and looking at the distance she would have to do a four-hour trudge through the jungle to get there. If she used her Speedrunner trait sparingly, she could get there in three hours. So, she had a couple of hours before she would need to leave. She could get lunch in that time, but she lost her appetite while contemplating the horrors she might face in the jungle.
Last night before going to sleep, she had thought and thought and thought about what she could do to avoid the meeting. But not going was out of the question. Her parents’ safety was more important than her own life, but she didn't want to get raped either. Though she doubted the druid wanted to rape her. If he wanted that, he could have called her to his room or somewhere else in town. Why the jungle? And in the afternoon?
What if she could kill the druid? He was level 6. She was level 5. She had learned some skills while training with Magadha. She had done some close combat practice with her friends. That's how she had gotten to level 5. Though, it wasn’t enough to beat the druid in his orc form.
Then there was something odd about the whole meeting, and she wouldn't figure out what unless she went to the meeting.
She studied the map once more, and spotted another town—the town of Sumara—near the meeting point. She had heard rumors about this town. A friend once said that the town was cursed, that no demon female could enter it. She wasn't planning to, anyway.
After spending fifteen more minutes deciding her next actions, she got out of bed. She had decided to go prepared, and if something went south, she would just run away. She had the Speedrunner trait, and she bet she was faster than any animal form the druid had. Now, she just needed to make some excuse to the high priest, and she would be good to go.
With that thought in mind, she took a quick cold bath. Xynnar didn't serve hot water to slaves.
Fools.
In Jethro’s palace, every slave received a bucket of hot water in the morning. Being close to the high priest, her mom and father could get hot water any time. Any time. Her slave friends from other houses even bribed her with food to get a bucket of hot water for them. She always provided it free of charge.
After the bath, she slipped into her second set of clothes—another black leather jacket and gray pants. These were hand me downs from Magadha, but they were practically new. Rihala and Magadha had almost same figure, so Magadha's cloths fit her perfectly. One more thing for her slave friends to be jealous of.
Once she was okay with her looks, she left the slave quarters and headed directly to the high priest’s chamber. He was staying in the town's head demon's house. It was a small house built next to the council hall. Compared to Jethro’s palace in Madurai, it was as tiny as the slave quarters. Though small, it was a quite beautiful two-story house pained burgundy and surrounded by lots of noble trees.
The guard standing outside the slave door on the south of the house flashed her a smile as she passed. She could have walked through the main door of the house, and the guards would have let her through, but she preferred not to use her leverage in such places. Her mom had told her to act like a slave every moment she was away from home.
“Is High Priest Jethro inside?” she asked the guard standing next to Jethro's room. He was wearing shiny metal armor which didn't suit his fat stomach. He held a pike in an upright position, but looking at the bend in his back, she doubted he would be of any use if a real attack occurred.
“He is talking with Head Demon,” the warrior with the pike and red eyes replied. “What do you want?”
She crocked her brows together. How dare he stop her. Did he forget she was with the high priest himself? Perhaps he was a new guard. “I'm his personal helper. Straight from Madurai. He's expecting me.”
“The high priest, expecting a slave? Are you joking? Your place is here,” he thumped his thighs and made a vulgar gesture.
“Let me in.” Rihala’s tail hovered over her head. He might have mauled other slaves, but he couldn’t do it to her.
The guard’s eyes turned black, his grip on the pike tightened, and he jabbed his weapon toward her heart.
Jethro
Rihala activated her Speedrunner skill and zipped through the air, instantly appearing behind the guard. Her t
ail hovered an inch away from his exposed neck.
As expected, the guard reacted slowly. His eyes bulged when he realized Rihala wasn’t in front of him anymore. A drop of sweat hung by a thread on his cheek. Even his eyes had gone back to normal.
She knew it was surprising for him. No slave should have dared to do something like this with a citizen, especially not with a guard.
“Rihala, is that you outside?” the high priest asked from inside his room.
“Yes, master,” Rihala replied.
“Come in, child.”
Rihala smirked at the guard. He remained frozen in place, unable to retaliate once High Priest Jethro was in the picture. She strode past him into the room.
“Master.” Rihala dropped to her knees, bowing forward without even looking at the high priest. His familiar musky perfume, only available to the royal family and a few high level demons in the capital, permeated the whole room.
“Piranda, I want the fat soldier standing outside my room dismissed. Put him in the dungeon after our meeting is over,” he said, angrily. “Kid, get inside and prepare a nice cup of tea for me. The milk and sugar are already available there.”
Rihala spotted the high priest’s gold-plated index finger pointing to a side room. She rose and walked to it without even looking at the duo. It was a custom of slaves; they never looked at their master when he is busy in a meeting.
“But, esteemed priest, she is just a slave,” an unknown voice said in annoyed tone.
She realized that in treating her fairly, the high priest must have hurt the head demon's ego, but the man didn't know that the high priest treated every slave in his domain fairly. Every slave.