Newly Summoned Demoness 2 - Chapter 23 – Shattered Serenity (Patreon)

“Get back!” Henri’s voice cut through the air with commanding urgency as the black-robed figures surged forward.

Yolani stumbled backward into the shop counter, her heart pounding. She barely registered the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood as the cultists swung their cudgels at the shop while they approached.

The shopkeeper cursed and bolted, sandwiches falling to the floor in a sad display of ruin as he disappeared through the door to the back.

Henri engaged with swift precision, his sword a silver flash as he parried the multiple attackers. It was not a fair fight, and the attackers were skilled at using their numbers.

Yolani pushed down her panic and grabbed her combat wand. She needed to help him before they surrounded and pinned him! Deciding on a simple kinetic attack for speed, she leveled the tool at the closest cultist and activated it.

The crystal on the tip of the wand flared, then spluttered with interference before going dead.

She realized what was wrong immediately; there was an anti-power field! They had prepared for this ambush ahead of time, knowing about her abilities. She didn’t have her main tool bag and there wasn’t anything she could do to disable the field without smashing whatever artifice they had directly.

Panic hit her hard; Henri wouldn’t be able to use his telepathy in the field, either! They were on their own.

The clatter of sword against clubs filled the shop, items went spilling everywhere and Henri shouldered one of them aside before parrying a strike from the side. A third club hit him in the back, but instead of going down, he made a wide slash that caught one of the cultists in the arm. Muttered grunts and curses filled the air.

Yolani whipped around, spotted the shopkeeper’s knife that he had been making their sandwiches with, and grabbed it. By the time she turned around, Henri was cornered between the wall and one of the counters.

She charged.

The men didn’t spot her until she was close, swinging his heavy metal banded length of wood for her head. She ducked down and jumped forward, her deli-knife streaking towards his torso. There was a brief moment where it felt like the blade had snagged and didn’t want to pierce, but then it slid in easily, a hot wash of liquid erupting over her hand.

A loud curse from her target heralded a back-handed strike to her face.

Somehow, she kept a grip on the knife, though, and it caught on something hard: bone. As she went down, he shrieked and went with her, his weight slamming her into the floor while his fists and knees struck wildly.

Everything went fuzzy, but she slipped the stuck blade out of him and then stabbed him again, this time under the armpit. He went rigid, and she pulled the weapon free, and this time stabbed him in the side of the neck.

The man’s blood poured all over her, the rapid spurting sprays turning into a slow river. When she reached to grab his torso and shove him off of her, she felt metal—chain mail underneath his robes. By the time she got him off of her and sat up, it was too late.

Henri had fallen to one knee. He made a swing at their feet, but two of the cultists pinned his weapon with their cudgels while the third one stepped forward with an overhand strike. Henri raised his forearm to block, but the weapon crashed through and slammed into the back of his head.

He went limp and collapsed forward.

Rising to her feet, Yolani glanced at the front door and then pushed forward into a sprint for escape.

Her heart pounded as she passed the three men by, but as soon as she reached the door, a new enemy appeared in the doorway without warning, reaching forward to grab her shirt and shove her backwards. She realized she was screaming; a rapid swing of her knife plunged without hesitation, but the man captured her wrist.

A series of blows with his free hand stole the wind out of her and she realized that her body’s strength had deserted her. The only reason she hadn’t fallen to the floor was because he was holding her up by her wrist.

“She killed Mark,” one of the men called out.

The man holding her spit in her face and tossed her to the ground. “Whore.”

One of the other men stepped forward and swung his cudgel at her.

The world blacked out.

Consciousness returned in fitful waves.

Each surge brought with it an acute awareness of pain. Her body ached, her head throbbed with the rhythm of her heartbeat, and her jaw… she could barely think for the agony that seared through her on her first attempt to move it. It felt wrong, misaligned, swollen to the point of immobility.

Cracking an eye open, she found herself in some type of dungeon cell.

The chill of the stone beneath her was a stark contrast to the burning pain that enveloped her. Slowly, with an effort that seemed to drain what energy she had, Yolani pushed herself up and leaned back against the stone well. Her breaths came out in shallow, ragged gasps that did nothing to ease the pain from each inhalation.

Her vision began to clear, revealing the small, cramped cell that oozed with humidity. The air was moist and cold, carrying with it the scent of mildew and decay. Maybe they were near one of the city’s waterfalls?

A heavy iron chain was clasped around her ankle, its links cold and chafing against her skin. Following the chain’s path with her eyes, she saw it was secured to a ring on the wall. There was no keyhole or other unlocking device, hinting that it was an artifice-controlled restriction.

She tried to move her leg, but even that small action sent a jolt of pain shooting up from her ankle. There wasn’t even a memory of how it had been hurt.

The chill seeped into her, and she realized with a start that was stripped down to her undergarments. Were they trying to freeze her to death? With the chill and dampness, that was a real possibility.

Her injuries prevented her from balling up to try to conserve her heat. Doing her best to focus on her surroundings beyond her immediate pain and discomfort, she studied her surroundings.

Through her cell bars, there was another cell, and she spotted another figure, unmoving. It was Henri—sprawled out on the ground, his gear and equipment stripped. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. His face was turned away from her, hidden in the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight that filtered in from outside their cells.

“Henri,” she tried to call out, but the sound came out as nothing more than a pained whimper aborted by her injured jaw. She doubted he could hear her even if he was awake.

A sense of helplessness settled over her like a blanket. They were restrained, injured, and at the mercy of their captors. The memory of the attack flashed through her mind—the black-robed figures, the ambush, the brutality. Anger flashed within her, but it was quickly smothered by a wave of despair.

They had been targeted with precision and trapped with nowhere to run. The knowledge that she had taken one of them down did nothing to alleviate the dread that filled her now.

She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. Her thoughts turned to Elania—they had obviously waited until they were separated to make their attack.

What would the other girl think when she came home to an empty shop, instead of sandwiches and smiles?

Yolani swallowed and did her best to bring her knees up to hug. The contract would tell Elania that she was still alive.

The City Watch and her friend would be looking for them.

She eyed the metal bracelet around her ankle.

She couldn’t give up hope yet.