Demon Retribution (Shadow Quest Book 3) (45 page)

Cale followed her studying gaze and asked,
“What is it?”

“I think my magic protected him.”

“Why?” Cale didn’t sound happy.

“Not sure.” She needed time to think. “How
long was I out this time?”

“About a day and a half.”

Not as long as usual, she thought. Evlon
must have helped her to bounce back. “Do you think the dragons have
arrived yet?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know where we are. And
with the Serakian’s cloaking spell on the ship, it might be
impossible to find our way back.”

Ginn interjected, “You should move on
quickly. The destruction of the lab will not go unnoticed. In fact,
there are probably troops on the way now. They have ways of
tracking Faieara.”

Kyra tried to tamp down her alarm. “If we
can get to a high point, we can try to spot the palace. Then we’d
be able to—”

Cale shook his head. “I tried that. It’s
mountains and trees for miles.”

Her shoulders hunched.

“I know the way to the palace,” Ginn
offered.

She and Cale went silent, and she knew they
were thinking the same thing. Should they trust him? What choice
did they have? She glanced at Cale, who stood rigid with his arms
crossed over his chest. He said nothing, but aggravation rolled off
him.

“My magic must have saved him for a reason,”
she told him.

“So he could betray us later?”

Ginn gestured with his head. “It’s that way.
A good day’s walk at least. Leave me. What do I care? I’m ready for
my life to end. I’m just glad it won’t be in a lab.”

Kyra scraped a hand down her face and paced
in a small circle. “Alright, untie him from the tree but keep him
bound for now.”

Cale did as she asked, removing the vines
around Ginn’s legs as well. Ginn made no protest to being
restrained around his torso and arms as they headed off in the
direction he’d indicated.

Their progress was slow with no clear path,
and Ginn lacking the use of his arms, but eventually half the day
had passed. When they reached a stream, they paused for a break. As
Cale bent to splash his face, she plucked a large leaf and folded
it into a bowl to capture water. The stream water was fresh and
crisp and soothed her throat.

Ginn slumped on a boulder, visibly
exhausted. It was obvious that the trek had taken its toll on him.
She scooped up more water in her makeshift cup and offered it to
him. He hesitated, a little surprised, and then nodded. Tilting the
leaf, she let the liquid spill into his mouth.

“Thank you, little Faieara, you have a kind
heart.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him another drink
before discarding the leaf and perching against a wide tree
trunk.

“After getting to know some of your people,
I have a theory,” Ginn proclaimed. “Had we merely asked for
assistance, it would have been given freely.”

“Probably,” Kyra agreed. Then she mumbled,
“Woulda, coulda, shoulda.”

“What language is that?” he asked.

“The language of regret.”

“Ah,” Ginn said and then let out a breath.
“We attempted it with the demons, you know. We promised them
technology in exchange for test subjects.”

Cale took a menacing step forward. “Do not
talk about my people! I will rip your head off!”

She pushed out of her seat, making herself a
barrier between the two. “Let’s not fight, boys.”

“Shh,” Cale replied, putting his palm to her
mouth. She bristled.

He did not just shush me!

She was about to rip away from him when she
heard a sound in the distance.

“Do you hear that?” Cale whispered.

The sounds were heavy and muted by distance,
as if the gods were engaged in an epic game of billiards.

Cale cursed. “Sounds like the war has
begun.”

Her stomach dropped and a sudden wave of
devastation made her crumbled to the ground. “We should be
there.”

Cale knelt beside her and pulled her into
his embrace, but did not comment.

A loud splash called them to attention,
followed by a grating, “Oh, dammit!”

Portia lumbered out of the stream, shaking
water from her boots. Beside her, two strangers appeared from thin
air, coming into being with a brief distortion of the surrounding
air. The unknown males moved to flank Portia. They were taller than
she was and could be brothers with their similar blond hair, pointy
noses, and dark eyes.

“For the love of the gods!” Portia
chastised, looking exacerbated. “Where have you been?”

Kyra shot to her feet. “What’s going on? Has
the fighting started?”

“Big time,” Portia replied. “The dragons
came, but we were unable to cloak them all, then an army of
mercenaries, pirates, and whoever else got the message showed up.
Chaos ensued. Kayadon are coming from everywhere.” Portia looked at
Ginn, and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“He’s with us,” Kyra rushed out. “No harm is
to come to him.” The only response she received was a pack of
surprised faces. Kyra gestured to the two men. “Who are they?”

“Serakian guards. I called on my people for
help as well, and they sent a small brigade. But there’s no time
for introductions. They need you.”

Before Kyra could formulate a response,
Portia grasped her arm and energy shot through her, giving her
sensation of falling. Her first instinct was to reach out for
something stable, but there was nothing. Her vision faltered, and
suddenly she was racing over the land, through the trees, and past
mountains. The speed was unfathomable. Once her feet met ground
again, she wobbled and struggled to regain her equilibrium.

Bodies rushed around her, yelling and
grappling, but she couldn’t make sense of any of it.

“Cale!” she yelled. Her sight began to clear
and she could only gape at what must be the seventh circle of
hell.

She stood at the edge of a low cliff,
overlooking the town that surrounded the palace. Parts of the
palace were on fire, the flames spreading quickly. Patches of land
burned, stinking of ash, soot, and something else—her mind tried to
block the smell, but it was too late. Flesh.

In the streets, people scurried in panic as
Kayadon gunned them down in groups. A woman clutching a child
screamed as she was overrun by a pack of hellhounds. Kyra let out a
gurgled cry.

A shadow momentarily blocked the sun. The
shape of it was distinct, with wings reaching wide. Her eyes
followed the massive dragon as it progressed toward the helpless
woman below, huddling to protect her child from angry, snapping
jaws. The dragon landed hard, yet graceful. Its scales glistened in
the sun and shook as a terrifying roar cut through the air. The
smaller creatures had time to cower before the dragon tore into
their flesh with teeth and claws.

Kyra’s attention drew upward. The sky was
littered with crafts of all shapes and sized, some shooting at each
other and some bombarding the ground. More dragons mingled in the
mix, maneuvering through the crafts as though they were but
inconvenient obstacles.

An explosion rocked the ground at her back,
and she swiveled to see a mass of trees engulfed in flames,
toppling to the ground. Cale appeared then. He reached to grip her
shoulder and his lips moved as though he were speaking. She
strained to hear what he was saying.

“Kyra, say something! Breathe!”

Was she not breathing? She felt her lungs
jump to life, gasping for air and fighting against the icy shock
that suffocated her. While trying to regain the ability to speak,
she continued to survey. Opposite them on the cliff, Ethan and the
demons fought to push back a wave of Kayadon and hellhounds. Some
of the dragons were there as well. King Mar and two of his sons
battled in their humanoid forms. Another dragon appeared—this one
red—landing near the group. Great burgundy wings spread as its
chest pulled in a deep breath. Then the dragon spewed a stream of
boiling fire at their foes.

From the corner of her eye she spotted Ginn,
still tied and lying on his side. The two Serakians who had brought
him blinked out of sight, along with Portia—to where, she didn’t
know.

My people are dying. My planet is burning.
My nightmare, come to life.

She realized Cale was holding her up, but
she couldn’t gather the strength to stand on her own. Tears
streamed as she sank deeper into utter devastation. The end of her
race, played out before her eyes. She had failed. Her father had
been wrong.

Hopelessness consumed her, sucking away more
of her strength.

Cale must have sensed it in her because he
yelled in a harsh, grating voice, “Don’t you dare give up on
me!”

“I can’t do this,” she rasped. “I’m not
strong enough.” Her gaze traveled the destruction.

“Fuck that,” Cale growled, shaking her
shoulders. His fingers dug in harder than he probably meant.
“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

She let the lie pass without a reply.
Another explosion pushed hot air over them. The sound hurt her
ears, but she barely flinched. Any second, one of those bombs would
strike true. Then it would be over.

“Kyra?” Anya called, hurrying to her side.
“Thank the gods you’re alive.”

The gods? Her mind raged. Where were the
gods now? Where have they ever been?

“What’s the matter with her?” Anya asked
Cale.

“I don’t know.” The concern in Cale’s voice
tugged at her heart. She blinked, finally realizing her eyes had
been frozen wide.

Nadua moved into her line of sight. Her
fiery red hair matched the flames in the background. “Is she
hurt?”

“I’m not hurt,” Kyra managed. “I’m just
freaking out.”

She placed her hands on Cale’s shoulder and
planted her feet. With effort, she buried her fear as best she
could. Cale stayed close as though afraid she would collapse again.
A very real possibility.

Her heart rate slowed, and she regained an
even enough breath to ask, “What’s the plan?”

A ship blazed to the ground, crashing into a
cluster of ruined homes.

Nobody spoke for a moment. The demons and
dragons still fought behind them on the plateau, keeping the
Kayadon from closing in. Their position was well chosen. The land
jutted out, making it impossible for attackers to come at them from
the sides.

“I saw us here in a vision once,” Nadua
informed her. “I don’t know more than that. I don’t know what to
do. There are so many of them.”

Anya said, “Our people are confused and
scared. The battle started so fast.” She trailed off as if at a
loss.

A few yards away, Marik fended off two
Kayadon at once. Sebastian took on a group of hellhounds. Sonya and
Ethan shot into the horde, dropping Kayadon left and right, but it
seemed as though two more popped up to take their fallen comrade’s
place. A never-ending stream of them poured from the thick forest.
Did they somehow know royal blood was just feet away? Eventually
they would break the line and find out.

Anya and Nadua’s features became bleak. They
looked to Kyra as if she had the answer. As if she were the one to
save them, but she only ever had one good blast in her and it
wouldn’t even cover the full length of the cliff.

Anya frowned, grabbing her by the hand. Kyra
blinked at her little sister. The gesture was meant for comfort,
but it gave her an idea.

“We need to make a circle,” she said.

Nadua understood instantly. Anya took on a
confused expression.

Kyra turned to Cale and gave him a quick
kiss. “I’m sorry I lost it for a second, but I’m okay now. Well,
better, at least. Go help your family and send Ethan over here,
okay?”

“I should stay with you,” he insisted.

“And miss out on ripping Kayadon to shreds?”
she forced a tentative smile.

“I don’t care about that any longer. I just
care about you.”

“Well, I need you to keep those Kayadon off
of us. We’re going to do something to intensify our magic, and we
can’t be interrupted.”

He gave a tight nod and then pulled her in
for a kiss teaming with heated promises. Her hands lifted to wrap
around the sides of his face, and she put a few of her own promises
into it. When he let her go, she saw red beginning to flood his
irises. “I will bring you their heads.”

“You do that, big guy.” She watched him go,
oddly turned on by his brutal pledge.

Below, two more explosions crashed near the
palace. The ship that had caused them was being tag teamed by a
group of smaller, swifter crafts. Smoke billowed from its
thrusters.

Ethan joined Kyra and her sisters, looking
bloodied and bruised, but already in the process of healing. “Cale
said you needed me. Are you hurt?”

“No. We’re going to form a circle.”

Still clasping Anya’s hand, she held out her
other to Nadua. Without hesitation, Nadua took it and then Ethan
closed the circle between her and Anya.

Kyra explained mostly for Anya’s benefit,
“You’re going to funnel your magic into me. Do you think you can do
that?”

They all nodded.

Nadua yelled over the noise of yet another
blast. “I’ve only done this a few times.”

“I know, me too. We’ll just have to do our
best.”

With that, they went quiet, concentrating on
activating the circle. Booming vibrations slithered over the
ground. Screams wafted up from the village below. Gunfire echoed,
and dragons roared. Kyra tried to push all of that to the back of
her mind as she worked on rousing her magic.

It didn’t take long. To her magic, the sound
of carnage was like opening a tin can to a herd of cats. She let it
shake and stretch and lick its chops. Then, like a lion on the
plains, its ears pricked up. Anya squeezed her hand, and Kyra was
flooded with her power. The strength of it nearly knocked her off
her feet, but her magic ate it up.

Heat surged, followed by an influx of
energy. Her magic flared, swirling inside her. She kept it caged,
expecting resistance, but it seemed to understand that it would
soon be free. In the next instant, with the help of Anya’s magic,
the demon’s rage took on a new level, and Kyra got a glimpse of
what Anya must constantly live with. She could actually taste their
fury on her tongue. She could sense the anger roiling off the
Kayadon, the fear of the townsfolk, the confusion of the
surrounding animals. Every molecule of energy created a different
impression, and it all stole a place inside her.