A Warrior's Quest Page 6

  Were they after the warrior girl, or his brother’s current heir? The warrior girl had been with his brother’s consort; had the Shojo taken Kindara? To get to his brother’s unborn spawn? Where was Kindara?

  He would not allow failure to take root. He two-handed his bastard sword, the hilt long and made just for that purpose. He cut a path, jabbing and thrusting, running the blade through as many of the dirty little bastards as he could.

  Shojo were the dredge of demons, vicious, but not too terribly bright. Not too terribly great of fighters.

  But never before had so many attacked his brother’s castle. Because Shojo were invariably selfish and mistrustful of the others of their race. Getting more than ten or twenty Shojo—especially unrelated ones—to work together well enough to orchestrate such an attack of this was no small feat.

  Someone had to be controlling these bastards; someone with a greater agenda and enough power and charisma to convince the Shojo to overcome their natural reticence to each other and work together for a common purpose. Agmendias, perhaps? He was still a part of his brother’s staff, but he was guarded and watched covertly every moment of each day. But was it him, somehow?

  Why? Was it just to assume control of Rathan’s kingdom?

  No Shojo had ever ruled Relaklonos. And none ever would. The beings were incapable of it. Already on the outer edges of the demons separating him from the warrior girl, Shojo were fighting amongst themselves.

  It was all that kept him from being killed. And he knew it. If the forty or fifty demons turned and began fighting him together they could take him down just by sheer number.

  Two of his men were down, just in the area near him that he could see.

  They’d gone down fighting; an honorable end to the males who’d both been barely out of their seventies, partners in life as well as battle. He would mourn them later.

  But he knew what had happened to them; the bigger Shojo had targeted them first. Before turning toward him.

  But unlike his men he was not inexperienced in battles.

  There had been no real battles in Relaklonos in 111 years, long before his lost men had been birthed. But he…he was nearly two thousand years old. His life had been fraught with wars.

  And he knew how to fight off enemies of every demon sort.

  Half of the Shojo were down now. Three of his men were still standing. Him. And the warrior girl. Five to fight off twenty-five Shojo. Four and a half, considering the girl warrior’s fragility.

  Doable odds now.

  He cut down two with a single slash of his sword. The warrior girl was nearer now, and the Shojo she battled fell at her feet.

  He could just see his daughter’s black curls behind the warrior girl’s legs. Isolde was wrapped around his daughter, protecting her from the claws of the Shojo surrounding them.

  Aureliana was keeping herself between the bulk of the Shojo and the nurse. And his daughter.

  She was protecting his daughter with everything she had. He would never forget how she looked in that moment. Fierce and beautiful, despite her small size.

  He cut down another pair of Shojo. Small, weak specimens both. Their fighting styles were pitiful. Inexperienced.

  Banbolk, one of his youngest, most inexperienced warriors, cut down three Shojo with a surprising movement of his long sword.

  Two lines of Shojo were now back-to-back with each other. One line faced Ren and Banbolk. The other surrounded the warrior girl and her charges.

  Ren felt a renewed surge of fury when his little girl called out for him. When the warrior girl was knocked to the ground by four of the damned bastards.

  He would see each of the Shojo dead eventually, but he would keep a few alive just to make them suffer for what they had attempted to do this day.

  Shouting came. Then several of the Shojo went down under an assault of his guards. What had taken them so long to get to this far corner of his brother’s castle grounds? It shouldn’t have taken half the time it had.

  What had happened? Had they faced other obstacles? Were other parts of the castle under attack, as well? How many of his people, his brother’s people, going to be lost?

  The few remaining Shojo were scattering, trying to escape the onslaught of two dozen strong Warriors.

  Ren grabbed one by the neck, stopping it from running toward the far walls of his brother’s lands. He tossed the Shojo to the ground, then shoved his sword through the bastard’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground. The beast squealed like a porcine he resembled.

  He needed information; this Shojo would provide it.

  When Ren was ready. Right now he had to check on the wellbeing of his females.

  “Keep some for information. Kill the rest!” He didn’t give the rest of the Shojo a single thought. The warrior girl was on the ground. And she was not getting up.

  His heart froze its beats when he saw the blood on her forehead. The red across the white tunic.

  Shojo bled clear, not red.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ren scooped the warrior girl into his arms and her head rested on his shoulder. She was awake, but barely. How much blood had she lost? Would she be able to survive yet another blow to her body such as this?

  Her lips brushed against his neck. “I’m sorry…I need…”

  He knew what she asked. And he’d give every drop he had willingly. “Take what you need. Phelius will put you back together again. Then we will find out the purpose of this attack.”

  “Cerridwen?”

  Shame hit him as he realized he’d momentarily forgotten his own spawn. He looked over his shoulder. Banbolk had Isolde in his own arms; Cerridwen was in Rathan’s half-brother Iashcu’s embrace. She was cradling her pup, and though she was pale and frightened, no blood marred her skin. She would survive; she was strong, hardy demon.

  The Dardaptoan female was far more fragile, even than his child.

  And if she were to succumb to her injuries, they would all face a dark future. He shifted her closer. “Take what you need; Cerridwen is safe.”

  She drank from his neck until she was too weak to continue. She went limp in his arms.

  He carried her inside and to her suite. He’d considered flashing her, but in her condition that could be just as dangerous.

  Phelius met him at the door. “We have supplies ready. Come. Put her on the bed.”

  Ren lowered her to her bed as carefully as possible. Without considering her modesty he pulled the ruined white tunic over her head.

  “Stop!” A female voice told him with a sharp bite in the words. “I will do that.”

  Ren glared at the healer’s assistant. She was small, brown-headed, and not of his world. He had never seen her before. Where had Phelius found her? And what gave her the right to question a prince of this world? “Be quick. And do not hurt her. Phelius, send a servant for Kindara and the girl healer Bronwen.”

  “Already done.”

  The female assistant pulled the tunic from Aureliana’s chest. There was a gash across her chest. Her beautiful chest, with its pale purple bra. A rage filled him like no other. “Will she live?”

  The healer’s assistant stared at him for a moment with eyes of the deepest gold. Odd eyes.

  Dardaptoan eyes.

  She was of the warrior girl’s Kind then. Did he know her? “I think she will. If she chooses to fight. Which she will. If you’ll stay with her, I must go; there are others in need of my skills, while Phelius tends to her.”

  She left him just as Aureliana began to wake. His attention turned to the warrior girl, and he forgot the healer’s assistant. She was of no consequence. Not now.

  Aureliana’s eyes were open now. “I’m sorry…”

  “For what?”

  “Your men…how many did you lose?”

  “I do not know. Three or four.” He felt more shame hit him. He was the head of Rathan’s military forces. He should know how many they had lost today. “I shall find out. After you are better.”

 
“They were after me, weren’t they? Me or Cerridwen. And Cerridwen. I don’t understand why. Where is she? You should be with her now.” She tried to sit up, but Ren held her down as gently as he could. She could not afford so much loss of blood. He cursed her Girl Goddess for making her own people so weak. So damned helpless. Had they not been able to see the consequences of their earlier far-too-rash actions? Would every world suffer because of their youthful foolishness?

  “Cerridwen is fine. Phelius has ordered her taken to Danae’s suite, where the healer girl can tend to her.”

  “Bronwen is ok? She and Kinney…were they hurt?”

  “No.” He didn’t know for certain, but Phelius shook his head no. Ren nodded at his cousin. They would speak of more in a moment. “Just you. The attack was centered on our location. Kindara and the healer girl were unaccosted.”

  “I need to check on Kindara. I gave my word to Rathan that I would protect her.”

  Ren held her down on the bed. And he would be speaking with his brother as soon as possible. If anything, this stubborn girl needed far more protection than his brother’s consort. Perhaps he needed to make that more clear to his brother.

  And from this moment forward, even while in the walls of the castle, she would have a detail of his Warriors nearby to protect her. His best warriors.

  Because he knew it just as well as she did. Probably more than she did.

  The Shojo hadn’t been after his spawn. They’d had ample opportunity to get to Cerridwen if they’d wished it.

  But no; the red demon bastards had focused most of their energy on the warrior girl.

  Because it was her they’d wanted.

  Why?

  ***

  He finally left her side once Kindara was settled in the chair next to the bed. If his brother’s gamata couldn’t keep the girl alive, then probably no one could. He had that reassurance; plus Kindara had made it clear that the warrior girl had sustained relatively minor injuries at the hands of the Shojo.

  But the question still remained—why?

  He had checked with the scholars; no Shojo attack had ever been orchestrated on the Malickus line—and for good reason. The odds of a Shojo attack succeeding were so astronomically pathetic that no band of Shojo had ever been that stupid in all of Relaklonos’ history.

  So why had these?

  He would get those answers now.

  He had Banbolk bring the first of the prisoners to a room far different from the one Koios had been kept prisoner in. Shojo dirt deserved no respect, even as a prisoners of war. Banbolk stood silently at the door while Ren studied the Shojo male. It was probably large for a Shojo at nearly five feet. A full foot or so shorter than his warrior girl. Yet far more vicious and deadly. It was lean, as Shojo often were, but its claws were razors atop hands that could vise a larger species of demon to death if given the right opportunity.

  Shojo were also known to frequently kill their own Kind, just for the three hells of it. Ren had never quite understood that. They would be far more formidable foes than they were if they could just organize themselves into some sort of an army. But Shojo consistently failed at that.

  So why had more than four dozen managed to attack his brother’s lands? Banbolk had brought him an updated number of Shojo dead a few hours earlier. Attacks by Shojo of even that number had happened only a few times throughout Relaklonos’ history.

  “Why.” It was all Ren said. He knew the Shojo understood what he wanted.

  The red bastard didn’t answer. Ren walked around the desk; the only piece of furniture in the barren room. He needed little else; the desk was empty of all but a few things. Ren lashed out, knocking the Shojo’s head to the desk. It wouldn’t kill the beast; or even do much damage.

  But it spoke to Ren’s intent.

  “Answer.”

  The Shojo keened, a typical sound for one of their Kind. But he did not answer.

  The door opened and Ren paused. He hadn’t expected interruptions of any kind. Had something happened to the warrior girl? An image of how she had looked on the muddied ground earlier flashed in his head and he struck out with the back of his hand.

  The Shojo hit the stone wall and slid to the floor.

  There was approval in the her brother’s eyes.

  When had the Dardaptoan arrived in Relaklonos? Ren bowed a small bit, an acknowledgement of the other Warrior’s status as royalty—near a prince—of the Dardaptoan people. He respected Aodhan Adrastos. A great deal. The male was a true credit to the title Warrior.

  His one issue with Adrastos was how the male had coddled his sister, and allowed her to continue believing she could compete in the world as Warrior.

  Her brother had done her a great disservice with that mistake. Did Adrastos realize that?

  Ren stepped aside. “Honored to have your assistance in this matter, Warrior Adrastos.”

  Adrastos nodded. “I see you’ve begun already.”

  “Yes. My impatience got the best of me.”

  Adrastos studied the Shojo for a long moment. “They are not large, are they? And only thirty? I am surprised my sister did not kill more of them.”

  “Near fifty. Had she not been surprised, and protecting my spawn, she probably would have.”

  “Once she is recovered we shall give her the chance. Perhaps starting with this one? I can prepare him a bit more for her.” Adrastos moved lightning quick, breaking the Shojo’s left arm with ease.

  The red demon keened louder and gasped for breath, now on his knees. Ren kicked him square in the chest. “He’s not answered my questions. Yet.”

  Adrastos was quiet for a moment. He pulled the Shojo to his feet then released him. “He will.”

  Ren laughed.

  He and Adrastos had many things in common.

  The desire to make this bastard pay for the warrior’s girl’s suffering was just one of those things.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The bruises had yet to fade from her body, but Aureliana didn’t care. She had spent far too much time bedridden in this demon world and it had been four days since the Shojo attack. It was time she rejoined the living. Her progress was halting but with the wall to help support her, she made it to the inner courtyard. She hurt like three hells but she was healing.

  Ren was there, sparring with several of his top warriors. No signs of injuries were present in the way he moved. Kindara and Danae rested in the shade, Danae’s daughter sleeping in her mother’s arms. Though Relaklonos was far colder than Gaia, summer temperatures in this territory would soar far into the one hundreds with just a shift of the weather pattern. Kindara was so uncomfortable now; she preferred to just sit and rest. Cerridwen chased the canid pet her father had given her, giggling and squealing her enjoyment in the puppy’s antics.

  It was so beautifully normal. Hard to believe an army of shojo demons had attacked the castle just four days ago. Or that four of Rathan and Renakletos’ guards had been killed. Three had died defending her. Aureliana did not understand it, nor would she ever forget it.

  Wild clapping rang out from the courtyard occupants. Aureliana stopped, stared.

  They were clapping…for her.

  Why?

  She had done nothing to deserve such recognition.

  Cerridwen ran toward her, skinny arms outstretched. Aureliana hoped the child’s momentum wouldn’t send her tumbling on her ass. She bent forward, ready to catch the little girl. Cerridwen was close now, and the love and welcome on her face warmed Aureliana’s heart. This little child was fast growing to mean more to her than anyone.

  “Cerri, babe…”

  The little girl was within fingers’ length of touching Aureliana’s outstretched hand. Her laughter rang out again as the little pup scampered between them, sending Aureliana back a foot or so.

  Purple mist surrounded the child in half a heartbeat.

  Aureliana heard the shouts, recognized the confusion on the little face—and the fear on her Rajni’s as he ran toward them.

&nb
sp; Aureliana lunged, barely aware of moving, barely feeling the pain of nowhere near healed injuries. She jerked Cerridwen into her arms as the mist surrounded them both. The last sight she had of the demon world was Renakletos. And the absolute terror on his face.

  She tightened her hold on his daughter and the darkness took them.

  ***

  His heart disappeared into the purple cloud. Just gone.

  A roar escaped, drowning out the screams of his womenkin. His sword was drawn, but so useless. How could he fight such an ethereal enemy with just a metal blade?

  The cloud was gone, seconds after it had appeared. Just gone. With his daughter and the warrior girl. His roar next was one of mingled fury and agony.

  Hands clamped on his shoulders when he started to rage like the Warrior demon that he was. Rathan and the bloodsucking prognosticator—brother to young Bronwen. They tried to hold him back. Back from what? He could not fight what was not there! The warrior girl’s brother was raging at the spot where they had disappeared, his own impotent fury eerily like Ren’s.

  Kindara was crying, yelling at him and his brother. Pleading with them to find her friend. To do something.

  Sentiments he echoed in his mind.

  “What was it? What’s happened?” Bronwen asked.

  “Passage key.” Danae wrapped her free arm around her friend, and cuddled the babe in her other arm closer. “It just took them.”

  “Who?”

  “Aureliana…and my niece.”

  A passage key. And he had no idea where.

  The prognosticate spoke, drawing eyes his way. “They will be returned to you.” It was his words Renakletos focused on. “You shall be given them back.”

  Damned right he would.

  As soon as he knew where they had gone. He’d be given them back, because he was damned well going to go get them.

  ***

  Cerridwen was crying, the child’s sobs ripping through the darkness. Aureliana felt around until her hands landed on Cerridwen’s shoulders. She pulled the child into her arms. Held tightly. “Shh, baby. Shhh. I’m right here.”