Demoness 2 - Chapter 31 – Descent (Patreon)

Yolani’s breath came in ragged gasps.

Joren’s promise of someone coming to take her back to the cell never materialized. Instead, West had returned with bindings and a whip.

The ropes bit into her wrists as she was tethered and then hung from the ceiling, the scent of sweat mingling with her fear.

She screamed at the first lick of the lash, but now everything was hazy and muted in her mind, the pain having turned into a numb throbbing.

She’d lost track of time, but the pain had begun to ebb, leaving her feeling a mounting anxiety. He’d strike again, soon.

Her fears materialized with a slap across her face, jolting her from her grim reverie.

“Repent,” West demanded, his voice as cold and unyielding as the stone walls encasing them. She didn’t answer. She’d already pleaded with him to stop, having been willing to answer or do whatever he wanted to make the torture stop.

That had only encouraged him to try harder, so she’d become mute.

She knew she had passed out several times already, each time being splashed awake by a bucket of freezing cold water.

The dried blood that had smeared down her arms was joined by fresh rivulets when the man decided to beat her more thoroughly.

Once she’d been healed by one of West’s men, although she had wished they’d left her to pass out.

West slapped her again when she didn’t answer. She inhaled and sucked the blood in her mouth into a ball and spat it in his face.

It was a bad choice. He would hurt her more for it.

West calmly stepped back, walking to the table where he had laid out his tools and picked up a white linen already stained with various stripes of her blood to wipe his face.

He was still looking over the tools when the door to the interrogation room burst open. For the first time in what felt like forever, Yolani’s blurry vision cleared enough for her to see. She recognized Joren.

Confusion appeared on his face as he took in the sight of her, and it slowly morphed to horror. Surely she didn’t look that bad?

Well, maybe she did.

“Why is she still being interrogated?” he asked, his voice strained.

“H..help,” Yolani croaked.

The monk winced.

West’s eyes were hard, unforgiving. “She’s still connected to the demon,” he said, gesturing with the crop in his hand. “I’m severing that connection.”

She wanted to blink, but the blood crusting her eyes made that painful. Not once had he mentioned severing the contract with Elania. He’d lambasted her for her sin of murdering one of his men and for consorting with demons plenty, but her contract had never been mentioned.

It wasn’t something she wanted to do, but she wasn’t going to be able to handle any more ‘attention’ or correction. She could barely even speak.

“I end the contract, amicably, with no penalty,” she croaked out, loud enough to be heard clearly.

Both men froze and stared at her.

A magic circle flashed into existence in front of her, a whirling clockwork of blue runes and light. There was a sensation of warmth and then a presence before an audible click filled the cell.

The contract magic ignored the suppression wards and magic defenses the monks had built into their fortress and made its determination. The contract, and Elania, had been a centerpiece of her life since they’d connected and the circle spun for almost ten seconds before it made an audible and visible proclamation.

[Contractee Initiated Contract termination.]

[Contract Completed]

[No violations have been assessed.]

[All clauses fulfilled. System-termination of Contract completed.]

The circle vanished, and Yolani’s body sagged in the ropes, her head lolling forward. She could feel the little tug of mana that Elania had been draining steadily suddenly rebound back to her, making the pain of her injuries more... vivid.

West snarled and stepped toward her, raising his crop to strike her, but Joren’s hand shot out and snatched the Lightbringer’s wrist.

“She has done as you asked. The contract is broken,” Joren insisted.

“She deserves it,” West spat venomously. His leg lashed out, and he delivered a kick between her legs.

Pain lanced through her groin and middle, all the way to her wrists where the ropes cut deeper into her skin. She choked on her own breath and whimpered.

Joren’s words cut through the air with a hostile authority. “No more. She’s under my care.”

West’s laugh was devoid of humor as he grasped Joren by the robe, his words a poison-laced whisper. “Your precious elders don’t care if the whore lives or dies, only whether you make us happy. Me, happy.”

With a forceful shove, he pushed Joren aside and stormed out of the cell.

Her eyes fell on the tools still sitting on the interrogation table. He’d be back for them. She needed to be gone.

Sucking in a breath, she drew Joren’s attention. “Please. H..help.”

That broke Joren’s shock, and he approached her. It took several minutes for him to figure out how to undo her tether. When her feet finally touched the floor, she collapsed into a heap.

Healing magic seeped into her back, but she didn’t respond to his words, she needed a moment of rest. At some point, the monk took off her restraints and healed her wrists.

Yolani sat up. She realized her hair was matted with her own blood.

Joren smiled at her. “There, you’re looking better. We need to get you back to your cell and then I’ll find something for you to clean up with. I’m sorry this happened.”

She smiled back. “Thank you. You’re a good man.”

She’d never spoken a lie so convincingly before.

Even if he was seemingly nice, even if he’d got her away from West, and helped her... he was still her captor. He was partly responsible by association, and she’d never forget that.

Joren led her back to her cell, and she was surprised to find that he didn’t bother to secure her with the artifice chain. She didn’t know if it was a small mercy or a cruel joke.

“It will take some time, but I’ll find some cleaning supplies and fresh clothes for you,” Joren promised. “It might take a few hours, but I’ll be back before the noon-day meal.”

Yolani nodded absently... then stood up and hugged him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He blushed and patted her back awkwardly. “You’re welcome.”

He left, and she sat down on the straw pallet.

Across the hall, Henri’s voice broke the silence. “Yolani? You’re back.”

She looked up to see him gripping the bars of his own cell, his face bruised but his eyes alert. Relief flooded through her, warming her despite the chill of the dungeon. “Henri, you’re alive,” she blurted.

“Yeah, the monk healed me,” Henri replied. She could almost hear the grimace in his voice.

“We’re in the Conclave Fortress,” Yolani replied. “I don’t know what the Lightbringers and Conclave are doing working together, but they’ve got us.”

There was a minute of silence before she asked a question she already knew the answer to. “Can you contact the Guard?”

“No,” Henri replied. “No connection... everything’s silent.”

Yolani bit her lip and then closed her eyes. “I was afraid of that. I think the others will know we were taken. Elania... I had to break our contract. I couldn’t take any more.”

There was a creak, and she saw that Henri had stood up and come to the bars of his cell, gripping them with both hands. “What... what did they do to you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’ll kill them,” Henri’s voice was low and dangerous.

She shook her head. “We need to focus on getting out of here.”

“Nothing in my cell for that. Even if we get out, we’re in the middle of a fortress,” Henri pointed out.

“I have a plan,” Yolani stated. “But it’s going to rely on our monk friend.”

Henri’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?”

“He has the keys to our cells,” Yolani replied.

***

Elania tightened the strap of her pack and looked up at the stone staircase that zigzagged up the side of the cavern wall. The Conclave fortress was built into the side of the city-cave, the opulent district thinning out into larger open areas until all the approaches to the fortress were easily watched.

She’d seen the area from across the city, but she’d never realized what it was.

For all the wealth and luxury on display in the district, the fortress was almost nondescript, as if the Conclave didn’t want to draw attention to it.

It made more sense why Magister Bannon and the others hadn’t been eager to consider attacking it.

Heck, it was right there in the name. Fortress. She’d not really processed that until now.

There were multiple entrances, and their guide picked one that she hoped wasn’t at random for them to ascend. The stairs reminded her of the ones that had once led her out of the deepest caverns and into the Mushroohum fields, but these were much less ancient.

And much more often used.

When they reached the top of the climb, there was a small landing with two monks on guard in front of a small portcullis. The long hallway behind it was lined with dim torches.

“Brother, state your business,” one of the guards demanded. The wary look on the two men’s faces made Elania wonder if they were even going to make it inside.

The other guard spoke first. “You know the rules. No general entry by the port gate.”

The guide nodded, then pulled out a parchment. “Elder Gant had several... special requests. We have his seal and approval for special entry. So it’s not... commented on.”

One guard took the parchment and looked it over, while the other stepped forward to examine them more closely. His gaze settled on her and she felt a mild panic as he walked right up to her.

His hand went to her hood, and she had to forcibly keep herself still as he pulled it back. “Special requests, huh? Can’t believe Gant is being so brazen.”

“The seal is legitimate,” the other guard said, handing the parchment back to their guide. “You may enter.”

The man touched a stone that lit up with magic, causing the portcullis began to rise. She wondered how it was keyed or locked; she doubted just anyone could press it and get through.

Gaston reached over and pulled her hood back up, and the small party of spy, lieutenant, demoness, and guard entered the fortress.

It was too easy. She didn’t like it. Didn’t trust it. She tightened her hood around her face and then let her hands fall to her sides, the comforting feel of her dagger at her hip and latent energy in her worn mana shards reassuring her.

She’d was ready for things to go sideways.

And there was no way she would be retreating out of the fortress without finding Yolani and Henri first.

No matter how many monks she had to kill to manage it.