Demon Slave (Shadow Quest Book 2)

DEMON SLAVE

by

Kiersten Fay

Published by:

Kiersten Fay

Edited by:

Rainy Kaye

Copyright © 2011 by Kiersten Fay

www.kierstenfay.com

All rights reserved.

License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, recommend them to Kiersten Fay’s website above, where they can purchase a copy for themselves.

Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work,

And please enjoy.

Pain laced Marik Radkov’s throat as he sucked in the freezing air. His legs burned with each long stride. The indigee followed close behind, hollering with each launch of their primitive arrows and spears. Marik thought about turning to attack—he abhorred running away from a fight—but he and his comrades had come to this icy planet with diplomacy in mind.

His captain, Sebastian, suddenly cried out as if in pain, though nothing had hit him. Marik followed his line of sight to the valley below, where Sebastian’s mate, Anya, stood in what they thought would be a safe location. They’d left her there to rest, while they searched the area for her sister, Nadua. Now Anya was being threatened—by whom he couldn’t see through the blanket of snowfall, but the outline of a craft rested behind her.

His blood turned to ice in his veins as Marik watched the strange man drag her toward the craft. He became enraged when her body went limp and she no longer fought her captor. Fire burned through him, warring with icy dread. He pumped his legs harder, as did Sebastian.

When an arrow embedded itself into Marik’s calf, slicing past bone, he hardly felt it. His mind was focused on getting to Anya, and ripping apart whoever had her. The Edge was growing fast, making pain nothing more than a tickle. Horns glowing in rage, his fangs descend—ready to tear into flesh.

The snowfall, which only moments ago had dusted the ground, had grown into a furious blizzard before he realized. It must have hidden the approach of the small shuttle ship that Anya was being pulled toward.

A tug brought Marik’s attention back to the arrow in his leg. There was a rope secured to the thick end. Another hard tug and the ground came rushing toward him as his calf slipped out from under him. He clawed at the frozen terrain to keep from sliding backward. Sebastian had stopped and turned to him, pain and indecision etched in his eyes. When a demon’s mate was in trouble, nothing else mattered. The fact that Sebastian hesitated now was a testament to their friendship.

“
Go!” Marik ordered. His claws sliced the layer of ice underneath him as another pull forced him back. “She needs you more than I. You know this.” The rope went taut once more and when Sebastian hesitated again, Marik let go. He prayed that Sebastian made it to Anya in time.

The cold wetness of the freshly fallen snow, coupled with the hardened frozen ground, assaulted Marik’s exposed skin as he was yanked backward. Sebastian’s silhouette disappeared into a wall of gray and white. Marik geared himself up to meet his new friends. The pain in his leg became nothing as he invited the Edge, embracing the rage and the extra strength that came with it. He’d never been trained to use the Demon’s Edge in battle, but he’d had more than enough experience losing himself to it over the years.

Once invoked, the Edge would trigger the release of chemicals, creating an intoxicating elixir that increased strength, lessened pain, and reduced one to little more than an animal running on instinct. Relief would come from either lashing out violently, or sexual release. Neither would be pleasant for whoever was on the other end of that rope.

Voices began to rise from behind the veil of white. They spoke a language he’d never heard before, meaning diplomacy would be impossible at the moment. It didn’t matter anyway; Marik would soon be too far gone for rational conversation.

The pulling ceased when the group came into view. A small army of white haired, barely clothed warriors had weapons pointed directly at him. Some wielded arrows and others held swords that gleamed against the bright snow. They dressed as though it were a warm summer’s day, rather than standing amid the freezing storm beating violently around them.

With his claws at the ready, Marik lashed out, making solid contact with the nearest body. A yelp, and a crimson trail of blood urged him on. Though his captor’s skin was bluish, their blood still ran red. Marik needed to see more of it.

A group of the indigee leapt on him, yelling and attempting to restrain him with their hands, while others approached with ropes. With a roar, Marik slammed his body into them, successfully beating them away. A man with a sword sliced at him, the blade coming close to his neck, but Marik was quick.

Two more with swords rushed to the front. Twisting his body, Marik managed to avoid the sharp blades. At their backs, a group of archers notched their arrows, targeting him.

His vision blanched red as the Edge flooded through his veins, deadening his mind to anything but survival.

One of the assailants thrust his blade forward. Marik easily dodged, smashing his head into the other man’s skull. With a small grunt, the man dropped to the ground.

Through the fog, Marik couldn’t tell how many he was fighting, just that they kept coming—which was fine by him. He could do this all day.

Blood stained the unfallen snowflakes as Marik continued slicing through flesh. Soon he stood on a bank of red snow. He vaguely registered a few arrows embedded in his torso. When had that happened?

Footsteps charged from behind and Marik crashed his elbow into the attacker’s nose, dropping him on the spot, but more quickly took his place.

A single voice rose above the rest, yelling in that language he couldn’t understand, but the sound broke through his rageful mind. Marik faltered in his step, only slightly, but enough to lose his advantage. A barrage of hands and ropes surrounded him, and he was thrown up against a tree. He lashed out with his body and the ropes began to snap. Then that voice came at him, slowing his movements once more, only this time the voice spoke in a language he knew.

“
Stop, demon!”

Marik blinked twice. More ropes came around him, fixing him to the cold bark of the tree, but he was stunned. Before him stood a small, fur-bundled creature holding a bow, arm stretched back, ready to release the arrow trained on Marik’s forehead. The only identifying feature he could see through the thick layering of furs and skins was the eyes—ice blue, deep as a cavern, and sucking him in like a wild storm.

A heavy object knocked against Marik’s skull and his vision went black.

* * *

Nadua gazed down at the unconscious demon.

While the creature had fought, she had marveled at his immense strength and fluid movements, even as her men were being cut down with ease. His injured leg hadn’t hindered him at all.

Her gaze rolled over his powerful frame. His shoulders were packed with strength and his waist slim, the shirt under his long jacket was thick but tight against his chest. She had watched the cords of his muscles flex as he assaulted her elite guard. If he hadn’t been hurting her soldiers, she could have admired him all day.

When she had finally noticed the blood being spilled, Nadua realized she needed to end the chaos. Loading her bow, Nadua aimed for the demon and yelled in the Cyrellian tongue for him to surrender. He hesitated slightly at the sound of her voice, but continued fighting as her men gained ground against him. She knew it would be only a matter of seconds before the demon broke free of their hold. On a whim, she’d switched to a language more commonly used by space travelers that she’d learned as a child, and ordered him once again to stop. Had he not stilled when she’d ordered, she would have put an arrow in his brain.

Now, as Nadua knelt beside the fallen beast, one of her soldiers called out, “Your Majesty, you should not get so close. It could wake any moment.”

Nadua only waved away the concern and studied the demon further. His features were that of a warrior, strong, just like the rest of him. A small scar next to his ear that twisted down the back of his neck and disappeared under his collar was the only defect. His hair was reddish brown and cut unevenly short, as though he cut it himself and didn’t care how it looked. A few arrows still jutted from his arms and legs. He hadn’t even seemed to notice they were there.

Demon warriors were legendary, but this was the first one she’d ever seen. And she was impressed. She could use someone like him on her side, though she knew that recruiting him would be impossible. The last time demons came here, they had warred with the Cyrellians. The demons had attempted to claim Cyrellian land as their own, and had fought fiercely for it. In the end, the Cyrellians won, but the battle had been devastating.

“
Take him back to camp and clean him up,” Nadua ordered. “Make sure he’s secure. I will be conducting the interrogation when he is conscious.”

“
I don’t think that’s necessary, Your Highness. We can call in a translator.”

Nadua speared the guard with a look that ended his objection.

She may not be like the Cyrellians, who were able to ignore the freezing ice storms that constantly assaulted the land—whereas she couldn’t go outside without layer upon layer of thick fur—but they would respect her rule.

“
I will interrogate him,” she said firmly, then changed the subject. “What of the rebel clan? Any sign of them?”

“
No, Your Highness. The pack of demons must have frightened them off.”

They’d been hunting the rebels for weeks now. She and half her elite guard—about thirty men—had been marching through the countryside hoping to find any sign of the rebel’s stronghold.

The rebel clan had defected long ago. It was unclear exactly why, but there were whispers of political disagreements. They’d been terrorizing the kingdom ever since, invading the outer city and stealing whatever they wanted.

During their latest assault, a young woman had been kidnapped. The parents had implored
Her Royal Highness
to find their daughter Lidian and bring her home.

By the frequent caravan attacks and rumored sightings, they should be close to where the rebels made camp, but the only evidence they’d seen was a solo rebel male, spotted just across the plateau. The sudden arrival of the demons had caused her group to lose sight of him.

“
And what of the other demons?” Nadua asked.

“
It looks as though they too have escaped.”

Tamir approached, the colors of his tunic a proud reminder of his high rank. She could see he had something on his mind.

“
Your Majesty,” Tamir began. “I believe the appearance of these demons could mean another invasion.” The sneer in his voice indicated he still harbored a grudge, and she was reminded that he was old enough to have lived through it.