by A P Gore
The head demon continued, “Why would I punish my soldier for trying to kill a slave? You must have hundreds of them in your domain, esteemed priest.”
Rihala felt like running back out and stabbing the head demon with the fork in her hand. That wouldn’t have ended well.
“Piranda.” The high priest’s voice rose a notch. If a normal demon had raised his tone, it would have not counted as a threat, but it was the high priest who had raised his tone. He had influence over the king, and when he raised his voice, everyone listened.
“I’m sorry, esteemed priest. I’ll fire the guard right away.” The head demon’s town lowered to a whisper.
“Don’t forget, she is with me. An attack on her means an attack on me.” He paused for a moment or two. Rihala’s heart was in her ears by that time, trying to hear his words. She was so proud of her master. Too bad he had no influence in the slave auctions, and the owner of a slave’s parents were prevented from buying their kids. Otherwise, he would have bought her surely.
The high priest continued, “I don't treat my slaves as other nobles do. They are demons first, like me—like you. You can get much more respect from them if you treat them fairly. You should change your attitude toward your people, Piranda.”
Rihala smiled as she poured milk in the cup. This is why her mom respected the high priest more than anyone else. He was kind and a good-hearted master. Even though he was among the top ten most powerful demons in the whole empire, he treated everyone fairly. Even the slaves.
“That's humble of you, esteemed priest. Please forgive my disobedience.” Piranda’s voice had turned to pleading by this time.
The room went silent for a few more seconds. “Let’s discuss our arrangements,” the high priest said after the brief gap.
“I have one hundred demons ready for attack. I think we can wipe out the town of Sumara and destroy the temple, eradicating her influence over the continent.”
Rihala put two spoons of sugar inside the ceramic tea cup filled with milk and tea powder. The sweet fragrance of the tea evoked her hunger. Pressing it down with a sip of water, she stirred the tea with a silver spoon. Jethro's palace in Madurai had much better tea cups. They were made of exquisite transparent glass. Even the slaves drank tea from ceramic cups. Perhaps the border town didn't have good cups.
“I'll send a hundred more demons as a backup. I don't think your fat army can conquer the town so easily,” the high priest replied.
“Thank you for your help, esteemed priest.”
Rihala was done making the tea when she heard the head demon’s reply, but she was unsure about going back out.
“I'll take your leave, esteemed priest,” the head demon said, and after a few seconds she heard his footsteps leaving the room.
She placed the tea cup and few pieces of dried fish on a plain white ceramic tray and stepped out. As usual she tripped over the curtain. The tea cup jumped from the tray. She tried to catch her balance and save the tea cup at the same time, but she failed miserably. The tea cup hit the carpet with a clank and shattered into pieces. If not for the high priest’s intervention, she would have fallen on the sharp fragments. Blue magic swirled around her waist, protecting her from falling.
“You haven’t changed.” The high priest’s spell had saved her from falling over. Another wave of blue magic spread over the shattered tea cup and collected it together. The pieces rose up into the air and hovered next to her.
She raised her palm, and the pieces rested in her hand carefully. “I’m extremely sorry, High Priest.” Two slaves had already come running into the room, collecting the plate and dried meat spread everywhere.
Rihala turned back and went into the side room to prepare another cup. This time, she walked out carefully, making sure she didn’t repeat the same mistake.
She handed the cup to the high priest and stood there, head slightly bowed.
“Rihala, I’m not impressed with the way you handled the situation with the guard.”
She was surprised that he knew what had happened, but then he was the high priest of the whole empire. He would know everything happening around him.
She dropped to her knees, bowing deeply. Her hands shook. “I’m ready for your punishment, master.” There would be punishment. Maybe a severe one. Fear spread down her spine, but at the same time her stomach growled with hunger.
“Relax, kid. You’re not my slave. And even if you were… Anyway, just make sure you don’t feud with any of the town guards henceforward. I don’t want my helper to start a commotion. Not that anyone would dare to provoke you. And yet I want you to be responsible.”
“Yes master.”
Mom would be angry with me for this. This ain’t good.
“Now, go get a cup of tea for yourself as well.”
“Thank you, master.” Rihala glanced up, getting a glimpse of the high priest for the first time that morning. His blue eyes were fixed on a red scroll in his hands. He wore an exquisite golden jacket padded with steel inside. A golden hawk was affixed to his jacket, indicating his status. He was an elite noble.
Rihala walked back to the side room and prepared tea for herself, then returned and sat on the floor next to the high priest’s chair. There was another chair in the room, but a slave never took a seat in front of their master. If Magadha was here, she would have forced her to sit on a chair. She was a dear friend who considered Rihala more than a slave. Rihala missed Magadha. It had been five years since she’d left for further studies, and she’d only returned once in the last two years to spend time with her family. Rihala wondered what level Magadha would have achieved by now. The last time she’d seen her, she was already on the verge of gaining level 13.
The high priest set the seal on the table near his tea cup. “Magadha asked about you in her last letter,” he said, sipping tea.
Did he read my mind?
Rihala’s eyes widened in surprise. “Did she?”
“Yes. She is coming back to Madurai in few weeks, and she asked what you would want as a gift.”
“Wow! Thank you, master, for considering me worthy of a gift.” She bowed further. A flower of happiness blossomed in her heart. Magadha was more than her friend.
“She considers you a friend. Anyway, speak your heart. I presume you didn’t come here for a cup of tea.”
If she hadn’t known the high priest since childhood, she would have thought he was a mind mage—a high level one. He wasn’t. He was a high-level politician. But her mom said demons always speak highly of the High Priest’s perception skills.
“I….” She hesitated for a moment. “I wanted to roam around the town, master.”
“Go ahead.”
Here came the moment of truth. “Actually, I want to visit the jungle. Sierra was telling me about a kind of mushrooms that only grow in this jungle. My mom always says, eat the food from the local place to enjoy the taste.”
High priest chuckled. “Mahala and her tales. Fine with me. Just make sure you don’t go deep inside the forest, and nowhere near the town of Sumara. It’s a cursed town. Any female entering that town is cursed with a nasty curse like mine. Stay away. Do not go inside the town. Do you understand?”
“Yes, master.” She drank most of the remaining tea in one gulp. Her job was done. Now she just had to be prepared for whatever the druid was planning.
“One more thing, kid. Take a bow and few arrows from the weaponry. I know you played with it when Magadha was here last. If you are going into the forest, it would be useful to have a weapon for safety.”
That last swallow of tea caught in her throat. High Priest Jethro was a god for her. No master would give a weapon to a slave’s kid. If only she had waited. The whole mess wouldn’t have happened.
Red Scroll
Leaving town was like stepping into a completely different world. A moment before, she was in an urban area with a sparingly thin line of trees and dust filled tracks with trails of other demons. The next moment, the thin line of trees
changed into closely packed trees, as close as arrows in a quiver. The atmosphere changed too. A moment before, the sun was spreading its rays happily over the whole area, but now it struggled to reach even one inch of the ground. All the light was filtered through the sea of leaves overhead.
Even the bird chirping increased. A cold wind bit through her leather jacket, reminding her of the time she got lost in a jungle when she was a child. The incident left a deep mark in her mind, making her lose sleep for many nights. This jungle too felt something like that.
She froze for a moment, wondering if she was making a mistake by coming here.
But the need was greater than the fear. She couldn’t put her family’s life in danger. Her mom had gained the respect of the high priest through decades of hard work, and Rihala wasn’t going to wash everything away with a single mistake. She shoved away that haunting memory and pressed onward, keeping the map fixed in her vision. The spot marked was quite far away from her current place and walking there wasn’t going to cut it because of a lack of a good, evenly prepared track.
Even the faint dirt road available was mostly covered in fallen dried leaves. Every step crunched leaves underfoot. It was unacceptable. Sound in an untamed forest could attract predators, and she wasn’t prepared to battling them. She had to be as fast and sneaky as possible. She looked up. The trees around her were huge, and the branches, as thick as her waist, formed a web of wood over the jungle.
If the branches were strong enough, she could run over them using her Speedrunner trait, but she needed a sturdy branch below her feet, and she couldn’t identify most of the trees. She lacked herbalism, and she’d never visited such a thick jungle before. The jungles near the capital were much thinner than this, mainly used by the royal family for hunting practice. She would have to test the strength herself.
She was about to jump on the nearest branch when she spotted a honey-squirrel. Her mind flooded with thoughts of the flavors she would savor once she roasted the animal. Honey-squirrels were similar to normal squirrels in appearance. The only difference was that most of their bodies were covered in thick black scales. Sighting one was a rare surprise. Only once had she tasted honey-squirrel meat. It was so delicious that she wanted more the next day. Her mom disappointed her by saying that was the only lot they found that month. It was a rare animal, but her luck had turned. She was going to feast upon it today. She nocked an arrow and fired it at the squirrel. Nothing happened. The arrow failed to penetrate the thick black scales.
What?
She shot another arrow, and it too ended in the same way. It was as if the creature’s scales were made of steel, or some other tough metal. It was frustrating. She wasn’t a mage, but an archer—and a low level one, at that. The only magical skill available to her was Ice Shot, while Magadha had fire arrow, burst arrow, and many other useful skills.
When will I level up to gain a useful skill?
Ice Shot was slow and only added a couple of points of damage to a normal arrow attack.
Might as well try it.
Drawing another arrow from her quiver, she activated the skill. Mana flew inside the arrow, illuminating the tip with a faint blue glow. But before she could imbue the arrow fully with mana, the squirrel darted behind a tree.
“Come on!” There went her tasty meal.
Rihala, don’t forget that’s only possible once you kill the druid.
“Did you forgot about the two special arrows I picked from the weaponry?” she said to herself. Her fingers traced over the metal arrows she had picked from the weaponry. She pulled one of them out, observing the beautiful blue lines running from the head to the tail of the arrow.
Arrow of Frost
Adds +10 damage to any ice-based arrow skill.
+10 damage with every mana spent on the ice-based arrow skill.
Level requirement: 3.
She’d had to break a glass case to get these arrows. This was her trump card. Ice Shot was slow and useless, but if given time to imbue more magic in it, she could get almost 100 points of damage out of it. Between its slow cast time and hefty mana cost, she practically never used it—not that she got many chances to use it in the palace.
Today, she was going to use it. Theoretically, she could do 200+ damage if she had a full 10 seconds to imbue her Ice Shot. She was a ranger, and she planned to take advantage of her class.
Rihala put the arrow back in the quiver and jumped up to the nearest branch above her head. She activated her Speedrunner trait and zipped over the branches. She’d travel over the branches until her stamina depleted. Once depleted, she would walk while it recharged. Once full, she would zip forward, repeating the cycle until she was closer to the mark on the map.
She stopped a few thousand paces away from the meeting mark on the map. The area was quite open when compared to the thick jungle she’d traversed to get there.
Rihala picked a large tree close to the meeting place and sat on a middle height branch. She had twenty minutes left until the meeting, but she didn’t have to wait long. The druid, in his demon form, entered the open area from behind a tree and sat on the ground. He picked up a purple fruit from a nearby tree and took a bite. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry.
It was time. Rihala nocked her special arrow, activating Ice Shot and releasing her mana into the arrow. It was sucked rapidly inside the arrow shaft, but she stopped the flow midway as someone else walked into the clearing—a green-skinned goblin wearing black pants. She hated goblins, not only because her race had a long feud with them but also because they never wore shirts. Most of the time, they went around bare chested, their disgusting skin on display. She also hated their bald heads. In all, she hated the species. But what was a goblin was doing here?
The goblin stopped next to the druid and said something to him. The druid smiled at the goblin and shook his head.
This was insane. Goblins never got along with demons. They were each other’s nemesis, and yet the druid was talking with him, as pleasant as could be. Something was going on, and she needed to know what.
Rihala jumped to a closer tree, getting within hearing distance.
“Pitara, are you sure she will come?” The goblin with the small pinched nose asked.
“Yes. She has to. I got her this time. She stole a bow, and I caught it in the sceneorb. She is a slave and stealing something means death.”
“That’s interesting, but how is she going to get the seal of the empire? That seal has plans for the attack on the goblin empire, and I need it at any cost.”
“Don’t worry, my friend. She came with the priest. I think she is his mistress. Though she is a slave, she has access to his bedroom. I have seen her going in there every night.”
“A slave mistress.” The goblin’s potato shaped eyes bulged. “Tell me more.”
Rihala was shocked to hear his opinion and the lie. She was no mistress, nor did she visit the high priest in the night time. She only visited him to remind him about his antinode, and that took less than ten minutes.
How could a filthy demon speak that way about her? The high priest treated her with respect. By calling her a mistress, the druid sealed his fate. She re-nocked the arrow and pushed her mana into it.
A moment before she released her arrow, the goblin moved and stepped between her arrow and the druid. The arrow was fully imbued with mana, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. If she tried, the skill might backfire on her and she could lose her whole arm.
She loosed the arrow and pulled two more, firing them at the druid one after another.
Her first arrow zoomed through the air and hit the goblin in the head. Ice spread across his head, wrapping around it and turning it into a blue sculpture of ice. After a moment, the sculpture shattered. The goblin died in an instant. The druid began transforming into an orc while her other two arrows flew at him.
Rihala had targeted the druid’s head, but his transformation made him a moving target. One arrow hit his eye, the other his gut.
>
The druid roared in pain and looked up, directly at the branch Rihala was sitting on.
“Shit!” Rihala froze. Her body shuddered in fear. The nasty gray colored beast had spotted her and was trying to pull the arrow out of his eye.
Turning to flee, she accidently dropped her quiver. All the arrows, except the one in her hand, hit the ground and scattered. A strong cold breeze flew from the jungle, bringing fallen tree leaves along with it and spreading them over a large area. Many arrows vanished below the mess, along with the metal arrow she had fixed her eyes on.
She could jump down and collect some, but the orc was already below the tree, staring up at her with one eye. She cast a quick perception on the monster.
Orc of toughness
Level 13
Health 910/1000
This was bad. The druid had transformed into something she couldn’t beat. Collecting the last special arrow wasn’t an option, not when an angry orc was coming for her. She had only one option: run.
She zipped through the air, darting from branch to branch.
She didn’t stop until she spotted a human.
A human? How was that even possible?
Yes, a human male was sprawled on the ground beneath her. She stopped in her tracks.
Humans were the worst thing that had ever happened to this land. She hated humans, and an urge to kill the human rose.
So she dropped down and pierced his neck with her tail.
The Human
Dust jumped in a puff as Rihala landed next to the human. In the split second of time between when she landed and devised her attack, she studied the human curiously. He was on his knees and didn’t look much different from a demon. He wore a metal padded leather jacket and gray pants. He gave off a rusty smell, like he had rubbed himself in a particularly bitter herb. She had seen that herb in her mom’s herb bag. A bitter taste covered her tongue as she remembered the exact taste the herb left in her mouth when she tried to eat it. It wasn’t a good experience. She didn’t waste any more time and let her tail pierce into the human’s neck. Red blood sprayed out of the wound, spilling over the human’s neck.