Setting the book on the table, Synar opened it to the list of contents, scanning until he saw where “demon healing” was written. It was still a shock to him that Ania had done a merging, on her own, without the sacred constraints, without a guide. Malachi could have done any number of horrendous things to her. Yet he had not.
Why had the demon spared her?
Synar leaned back in the chair, looking at the sacred books, the amulet, and the chest containing the “reminders” as his father had called the evidence of the early uses of Malachi’s enormous power. The worst of which was a square container with the micro dust of over a thousand soldiers inside it.
How could he not be disturbed that Ania had aligned herself permanently with the being responsible for those deaths?
Synar leaned his head forward in his hand, feeling again the weight of his burden, of the responsibility he carried as the demon’s current master.
Did he now share that with the angry female who had just left him?
The intercom lit up and someone called his name. Sighing, Synar walked over to it.
“Captain, Ensign Whun just checked in. He said Commander Jet drank something at dinner that evidently made her almost pass out. Whun said he saw her to her room and she was sleeping now. He was returning to the dinner to avoid being rude to his host. They are still scheduled to complete the mission tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” Synar said, his mind easing on at least one matter. “Leave word to wake me when the next report comes in.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Synar let go of the intercom button and walked over to the desk again. His gut still churned in alarm, but he concluded it was because of the fight he’d had with Ania.
He sat down and went back to reading, trying to determine exactly what Ania had brought on herself by what she had done.
Chapter 15
Early the next morning, Synar sat heavily in his Captain’s chair, cursing himself for not following his intuition sooner. “How long has Commander Jet been unreachable?”
“Twelve Earth hours now, sir,” the communications officer reported. “Her last check-in was at dinner last evening, and she said the officials were cooperating. There was no sign of the hostage, but they were supposed to be releasing them both this morning. She failed to make the last two check-in times arranged, although Ensign Whun’s report was approximately at the time of the second one. He has not checked in this morning either.”
“Any word from the planet—from their host Fener Sel?” Synar asked.
“No. We have been unable to hail anyone from the planet to take our calls about it. There are no shields and no weapons aimed at us. They’re just ignoring us sir. We wondered if they’re all just sleeping off their dinner indulgences this morning.”
Synar’s gut rolled with the words, his instincts warning him clearly that Gwen was in great danger. He should have listened to his intuition last night regardless of how things had seemed. Dorian would have gladly gone to check on them.
“Have you contacted Lieutenant Zade and Peace Keeper Looren to check on their progress?”
“They’re both on their way to the shuttle dock now. Are you not going yourself this time, sir?” he asked.
“Worried, Ensign?” Synar looked at him.
“We’ve never had any of our crew captured before, and you usually go on rescue missions,” he said carefully, not wanting to seem disrespectful.
“I’m sending two very unusual crew members highly trained in the level of recovery needed for this sort of investigation and rescue mission,” Synar explained, frowning himself at letting Ania and Dorian talk him into them going alone to minimize the chances of Fener Sel marshalling a bigger attack.
His misgivings were magnified because he was still playing his argument with Ania in his head. What if something happened to her before he had a chance to talk to her again? Did she care there was so much unresolved between them? Could he trust Dorian’s insistence that Ania was far more capable of the mission than Synar believed?
“Sorry, Captain,” the Ensign said, trying to erase the trepidation he feared he had caused in his superior, judging from the captain’s scowl. “I wasn’t meaning to question your judgment.”
“No offense taken, Ensign. Just keep me posted on their communications,” Synar said stiffly.
“Aye, sir,” the Ensign answered, moving quickly to return to his post.
Synar stared out of the bridge’s viewport at the planet of Lotharius. Dorian was too compromised by his own concerns to predict the outcome. Good predictions wouldn’t have stopped Synar from worrying about his mate or his best friend anyway.
Malachi, take care of them both, Synar sent, chanting the command in his head and sealing it with the sacred words of commitment that Malachi had to heed.
Liam, you worry too much about the wrong things, was all Synar heard in reply.
***
“Dorian, we’re going there only to rescue Ambassador Onin, Gwen, and Ensign Whun. I would prefer not to kill any more creatures than we have to in the process of getting our targets out,” Ania said, feeling Malachi restless inside her.
At the thought of Gwen in danger, her blood boiled almost as much as Dorian’s. She had grown quite fond of the young commander.
“Gwen is my mate. I will do what is necessary,” Dorian said coldly, stalking onboard the shuttle. “She is my first concern. I should have listened to my intuition last night. My dread was about her. The Siren’s call has even fallen away in the face of my concern.”
“You did listen. We all listened. Nothing seemed amiss until this morning. Think about this Dorian—as the next highest contracted officer, in Gwen’s absence you are the first mate. You have an obligation to that as well,” Ania reminded him. “I can’t control both you and Malachi in a rage. You will have to control your own instincts and do what is right.”
“Then let us hope for their sake they have not harmed Gwen—I mean them,” Dorian corrected, reminding himself of the ensign. “Something is definitely wrong. I feel it so clearly now.”
Knowing no way to appeal to Dorian’s logic when his very being was focused on finding his mate, Ania settled in to the first passenger seat and set her mind on discovering as much as she could intuitively determine before they landed.
***
Dorian flew the craft and put the shuttle down just outside the city gate. Walking through it virtually unnoticed, they passed many male-female pairs traveling. Since both of them were wearing nondescript gray uniforms, they blended in with the other drab residents. Ania was very glad now that she’d made that hasty trip to see the bursar last evening, though her new appearance had shocked him as much as her request for all the mirrors had.
Trivial things to think about, Ania knew, but it helped relax her enough to separate herself from Dorian’s chaotic emotions, which were being broadcast as they walked.
Subduing the resistant guards outside Fener Sel’s receiving area turned out to be little effort for either of them. Malachi was sulking for not being allowed to help. Two unconscious guards slumped at their posts as Dorian and Ania walked inside.
When she and Dorian reached the receiving gallery, they were met by a large number of male guards armed with laser weapons which were all pointed at them, likely set to kill when fired.
A laughing male sat in an embellished chair at the front of the room, obviously enjoying their surprise at the unusual welcome.
Not bothering to worry about the number, Ania focused her energy, closed her eyes, and opened them again to set free the power Malachi had given her. Her eyes glowed red as she held out her hands and spoke the ancient word to evoke mass surrender. The energy from her palms flashed around the room and everyone with a weapon fell instantly to the floor unconscious. Those without weapons shrank away from the fallen bodies in terror.
Dorian walked undeterred then to the male at the front who seemed to now be squirming nervously in his chair.
“Your crew members very rudely disappeared after dinner last evening. We haven’t seen them since. Why are you asking me? It was my assumption they returned to your ship,” Fener Sel said with a shrug.
“Then what was the purpose of meeting the two of us with an army of guards with weapons?” Dorian asked, seeing the lie for what it was.
“We saw you land a shuttle outside the city without permission. You and your companion seemed potentially hostile,” Fener Sel said carefully.
“Hostile?” Dorian said, feigning surprise. “On the contrary, the person I have brought with me is our peace keeper. You haven’t met her yet. This is Ania Looren.”
“Peace keeper? That female carries a demon,” Fener Sel said, looking at Ania with disgust. “She is one of the walking dead.”
“I assure I am very much alive,” Ania said calmly. “And you are right that I both carry and command the demon. Would you like to meet him?”
“No, I have met enough demons in my time. Would you like us to help you search for your crew?” Fener Sel offered, hoping to distract them long enough for the work to be finished on his prize.
“Why search? Ania and I are both intuitives and know you have them. Now this is the last time I will ask you politely to produce the ambassador and our crew,” Dorian said softly. “If you refuse, we will find them ourselves even if it means walking over the dead bodies of your entire household to do so. You are now in direct violation of your Alliance agreement, and your lack of cooperation is an act of war. Of course, dead creatures cannot carry on a war. Make a careful decision, Fener Sel.”
“You threaten to use a demon against us and accuse us of acts of war?” Fener Sel asked, his tone as scathing as he could make it.
“The demon at least serves the Peace Alliance and its goals. Do you?” Dorian asked.
Fener Sel looked uncomfortable and then resigned.
“The ambassador is dead,” he said flatly. “I was afraid to tell your captain the truth. There was nothing we could do to extend her life. I’ve been trying to figure out how to report it to the Peace Alliance without them thinking poorly of us.”
Malachi, does he lie? Ania searched the male’s energy herself while she waited. He was not as calm as he was working to seem.
The ambassador lives still, Malachi sent back. The deceiver has Gwen hidden as well. Ensign Whun is no more.
Ania turned to Dorian. “Fener Sel is lying. He is hiding the ambassador and Gwen. Malachi says the ensign is dead.”
“I will not be insulted by you believing the deceit of a demon over my words,” Fener Sel said bitterly, rising to his feet.
Dorian walked to Fener Sel and shoved him back into the chair. He spoke the word of restraint in the ancient tongue and walked away as Fener Sel struggled, unable to move. Ania wielded the words without consequence, but it had always hurt Dorian to invoke the words of power. At the moment, the personal pain meant nothing because he would do anything to find Gwen.
“What demon magic is this? Release me,” Fener Sel demanded.
“Pray to the creators of all to forgive your transgressions,” Dorian said tightly. “You may be about to join them if you have harmed our crew.”
He walked to Ania. “Other than killing all of these creatures and looking for ourselves, is there any other way to find them?
The women here are prisoners. Question them and they will help, even if it costs them their lives, Malachi sent.
Ania looked beyond Dorian to see a variety of beautifully dressed, frightened females huddled against the wall watching the events with curious eyes.
She walked to stand in front of the nearest group of them. “Any of you willing to help us?”
They looked at each other fearfully, and then one straightened to meet Ania’s gaze. “We can tell you nothing because to tell you is to die,” she informed them.
Ask who holds her fate in his hands, Malachi suggested.
“Who holds your fate in his hands?” Ania asked her, not questioning Malachi’s guidance.
The female said nothing but looked directly at the male next to her who curled his fingers into his palm.
Ania watched the female wince, grab her stomach, and fall to her knees. She didn’t call out, and yet she was obviously in agony.
Malachi—what is happening to her?
I believe he controls her with a device in his hand. Remove his hand, but do not kill him. If he dies, she may die as well. I do not know exactly how it works.
Ania walked back to Dorian and pointed to the large standard-issue fighting knife in his belt.
“May I use that?” she asked.
Dorian removed the weapon and handed it over. She walked back to the male standing by the writhing female and grabbed his right hand. Feeling justified taking action, Ania sliced his hand off above the wrist with no regard for his scream of pain and shock.
Her acceptance of it being necessary did not even shock her. Thanks to Malachi, she well remembered feeling no remorse as a warrior for doing what must be done. She looked at the male screaming on the floor, but felt no guilt even though he was the first creature she’d intentionally harmed in eight hundred years.
Instead, Ania looked at female he had been hurting who was now able to stand again without pain. These males were obviously doing something evil to their mates. Until they gave up Gwen, Ania decided, she would continue to do what was necessary.
Now you can kill him, Malachi told her gleefully. I see that the female will be safe.
“Don’t tempt me,” Ania said out loud, looking in disgust again at the squirming, crying man clutching his bleeding wrist and begging for help.
She took out her weapon and calmly stunned him to shut him up. It was a relief to everyone, but also a shock judging by their expressions.
Her gaze swept the other males still standing. “If you hurt any of these females while I am present, I will cut off your hands while the demon feeds on your screams. Do you understand me?”
At their nods, she turned back to the female who originally spoke up to help.
“Now—you are safe from him,” Ania said, meeting and holding the female’s gaze, the bloody severed limb still in her hand now dripping onto the floor. “Will you help us?”
“May I have that?” the female asked, holding out her own hand and motioning.
Ania handed over the severed limb, noting the female didn’t flinch at all. She held it up to her gaze and looked it with fascination and a kind of morbid pleasure as she spoke.
“My name is Boca Ador. I was captured and forced into slavery to serve this male as his mate. No females are born into this culture. It is punishment for their transgressions against the creators of all. At the request of the Peace Alliance, several females of my planet volunteered to come and see if amenable matches could be made as a solution to their problem. Instead of receiving us in peace and friendship, Fener Sel enslaved us all and forced us to say we were content in our lot. The penalty of disobedience is pain or death. After death, they just mate with another female that is brought here by traders. Your female crew member is even now being prepared for Fener Sel personally. You were tricked into sending her.”
On hearing this, Ania turned to Dorian.
“Here,” she said, tossing him back the bloody knife. Fener Sel was dead anyway. She was not going to be able to keep Dorian from taking the deceitful male’s life.
Dorian caught the knife and walked back to Fener Sel.
“Which hand were you going to use to control her?” he asked.
When Fener Sel just glared and didn’t answer, Dorian looked back at the female who had been talking to Ania.
&nbs
p; “I do not know which hand. As ruler, Fener Sel keeps more than one mate. It could be either or both,” Boca said, lifting her chin and glaring at the male in the chair, pleased to see him finally getting even a fraction of what he deserved. “He can only manage a few at a time, so when he tires of one, Fener Sel kills her so no one else can have her. It is high sport to torture a mate until she dies. They celebrate the event with a feast, and we are forced to watch. They killed your male crew member for trying to stop them from killing off another female last evening.”
Dorian reached out and lifted one of Fener Sel’s hands.
“You made a grave mistake in your greed this time,” he said, pulling an arm taut and lifting the knife in the air. “Commander Jet is my mate. You sealed your death when you had the first thought of hurting her.”
Bringing the knife down, Dorian cut off the first hand with a single swipe and threw it down in front of the chair.
Fener Sel’s scream broke the silence of the room, causing the rest of their captives to flinch, and Dorian waited until it had echoed off the walls for a moment to make sure their point was being made.
Then he spoke a word and pushed between Fener Sel’s eyes watching his head slump forward as he went silent.
Dorian then lifted the other arm and cut off the other hand, knowing the unconscious male did not even know it happened. Dorian’s mercy at rendering Fener Sel unconscious was only to spare the females who had already suffered enough.
“Now where is my mate being held?” Dorian asked softly, looking at the females.
“I will tell you all you wish to know and even help,” Boca said. “Just do not leave us here.”
“Agreed,” Ania said firmly. “Consider yourself rescued. Now show us before we are forced to kill more. My demon longs to be set free. He is not so merciful.”
Boca bowed her head respectfully.
Ania looked at the remaining row of females. “There is a shuttle just outside the walls of the city. Go there immediately and wait for us.”
The Demon Master's Wife (Fantasy, Space Opera, Science Fiction Romance) (FORCED TO SERVE) Page 14
