Realmwalker: Kerrigan

CHAPTER ONE

KERRIGAN

The key turning in the lock woke Kerrigan. That click had long ago become an alarm she couldn't afford to ignore, or it meant a bad day. She reached for the lamp, didn't find it, and stretched an arm out to grope atop the nightstand. A lantern. She tapped the glass to switch it on, blinking in the sudden brightness. As she took in her surroundings, her groggy thoughts cleared, but her spirits sank. It might be a bad day anyway.

The bare wooden walls and floor of the small, windowless room reminded her they were in a cabin, not her house in the city. Her uncle would be nearby all day. While her house was big enough to avoid him, this place was not.

She rose, made her bed, and opened the door. Down the hallway to the right was the bathroom, where she found her clothes issued for the day and her instructions.

There was never a choice in what she wore or her routine for the day. It had been so long since she'd had a choice, she only vaguely remembered having options.

Shower and breakfast -- one slice of toast and one egg -- fifteen minutes. Guests arriving in two hours. Have the cabin clean and stay out of sight.

Kerrigan took a hurried shower and put on the jeans and long-sleeved shirt. No shoes. There rarely were since the third time she'd tried to escape her uncle's care. He'd not let her have pants for a while after the fourth attempt. When he found her after her fifth try, he'd put a collar and leash on her and threatened to amputate her feet.

She didn't taste the food as she chewed mechanically while cleaning the mess her uncle had left in the kitchen. Guests arriving? Stay out of sight? Normally, her uncle enjoyed ordering her around in front of his Unseelie friends.

There wasn't much tidying to do. A door leading off the kitchen was locked, and she knew better than to ask about locked doors. As she wiped a window clean, she eyed the forest on the other side of the yard. She'd been unconscious when they arrived. That was the norm when her uncle took her somewhere. He never left her with any clues as to where she was or how far away help might be.

How far could she get into the trees? Far enough to get away this time? Was this a normal forest or a Fae forest? Some things found in Fae forests were more dangerous than her uncle, but without venturing into the woods, there was no way to tell.

She rushed through her chores twice, making sure everything was just so, exactly how her uncle insisted things be kept, and slipped into her room as a heavy fist pounded on the door. The guests were arriving.

A red dress lay on her bed. Red shoes on the floor. Foreboding filled her as the decadent silky material slid through her fingers. Although her uncle wore expensive garments, he didn't clothe her in the same manner. The edge of the dress slipped off the bed, and matching, lacy undergarments fell to the floor.

Her hands shook as she folded the jeans and shirt and pulled on the lacy panties and bra. Her uncle had always been free with his fists, but he'd never left her underwear like this, or given any sign he wanted their relationship, such as it was, to change. He didn't even like her. She swallowed hard, hoping her thoughts were heading in the wrong direction, even though she couldn't imagine why else he'd give her things like this to wear.

But, as usual, she didn't have a choice. There was no escape for the moment. She pulled the dress over her head, tugged the zipper closed, and slipped on the strappy, high-heeled sandals with dread. There were guests. Was this outfit for them? The frock cinched at her waist and the low neckline, combined with the bra, displayed her breasts. The hemline hit her mid-thigh. There was a lot of her body on display. Although she had shoes, she'd break an ankle if she tried to run.

Several more fists pounded on the door. How many people were coming?

Heavy footsteps on hardwood planks stopped outside her door. Two men she didn't know burst into the room. They were big, scarred, and horned. Members of The Hunt. She stumbled back from them, falling onto the bed, but they hauled her up by her arms and dragged her out. She'd had no instructions about this.

"Who are you?" She hated the quaver in her voice. "Where are you taking me?"

A slap served as warning she wouldn't get answers. The blow wasn't hard -- more shocking than painful. No one other than her uncle had hit her before.

They opened the door off the kitchen that had been locked since her uncle brought her here two days ago and forced her down some stairs into a room carved from the earth. Lanterns hung on the walls.

More men waited at the bottom. Big, leather-clad men wearing capes and helmets. Some had horns. Others hooves. More of The Hunt. All of them must be here. The worst of the worst. They enjoyed chasing their prey down and inflicting pain.

Hot eyes roved over her body in a way that made her feel like she wasn't dressed at all. In the middle of the room, a hook dangled from the ceiling above a wooden post. A coiled whip hung on the wall, next to manacles, canes, and knives.

Her blood ran cold as her heart pounded and her breath came in short pants that did nothing to provide her with oxygen.

"Here she is." Her uncle, blonde hair and short beard immaculately groomed, wore a custom-made blue suit and shiny black shoes. He flashed white teeth in a smarmy grin as he approached and used the end of his silver-tipped walking cane to lift her chin. "Get a good look, everyone, and don't insult me with any low bids. If you don't like her black eyes, just keep her blindfolded. Or have them taken out."

Sheer disbelief froze Kerrigan in place. Surely she had to be mistaken. What her uncle was saying couldn't be right. What had she done that deserved this treatment?

He nodded to the man on her left. "Bind her."

Panic kicked in. Kerrigan wrenched an arm free and punched her second captor in his gut. Startled, he loosened his grip.

She ducked a fist but caught a hard slap to the face that spun her around. She kept to her feet by sheer luck and bolted up the stairs, swearing as her ankles wobbled and twisted one way, then the other.

Her uncle laughed. "You know, running doesn't help. Doesn't help you, anyway."

He was right, and it was pointless to run from the men of The Hunt, but everything was different now. The beatings were expected. He used his fists often. Today there was a whip. And a crowd. A post. Ropes. An auction.

For her.

He lived in the house she'd inherited when her parents died. Spent her money. Treated her like a slave. She thought he'd already taken everything from her. It had been that way for years. What changed?

Kerrigan darted through the kitchen and out the back door, racing over the grassy expanse of the backyard and throwing herself into the woods. Her heels sank into soft earth, but refused to slow. Branches and thorny bushes tore at her flesh and dress.

What now? She knew nothing about the forest. But being sold, beaten, and raped would not end well for her. One of her heels snapped, and she lurched, hitting the ground on her hands and knees. Rolling to her side, she ripped at the thin straps of the sandals and kicked them off. The Hunt whooped and shouted behind her.

She'd probably done what they wanted when she ran. They were closing in. Scrambling to her feet, she bolted toward the bright light at the end of the forest.

Stay on the path, Kerrigan. If this was a human forest, the path would lead to the exit. If this was a Fae forest, leaving the path could get her lost, so she never escaped.

Kerrigan had hardly gone ten more steps when a leather-clad and caped man stepped out of the trees in front of her, bringing her to a skidding halt. Dark-haired and blue-eyed, he had a kinder face than the other men in the cellar, but it could be a glamour. How had he found her so quickly and got in front of her? A scream welled in her throat as he stepped toward her.

"I won't hurt you." He held up his hands. "Come with me. I'll take you somewhere safe, but we have to go now." His body shimmered, and a black horse stood before her.

A puca! His offer was tempting. Too tempting. His magic tried to lure her closer, to run her fingers through his mane and climb onto his back. Often as not, they led people astray, or took them for terrifying rides, but brought them back to where they'd started. She couldn't return here.

He knew the right words to say, and Fae couldn't lie, but if he was Unseelie, or with The Hunt, he could twist his words. Take her somewhere safe, but for how long? He wouldn't hurt her, but he might take her straight to others who would.

She was better off on her own. Shaking her head, she held her breath and took a chance, plunging off the path into the trees where he couldn't follow -- at least not as a horse.

"No! Don't --" he called.

Kerrigan ignored him. He'd just try to trick her with his words. Sharp rocks and twigs dug into her soles, and she winced as she passed him. Branches snarled in her hair. Three more steps and she angled back onto the trail, where she sprinted. This had to be the same path. She'd only taken a few steps and kept her eyes on it the whole time.

Ahead, the end of the forest came into a sight -- sun shining on a grassy expanse. She put on a burst of speed. Freedom was so close!

A heavy weight came out of nowhere and collided with her. She grunted as her chest smacked into the ground and something inside her cracked. Her breath whooshed out. Hands were on her, grasping and groping as she tried to scramble away. The material of her dress tore. She clawed at the dirt, sure the next inch she gained would be enough to pull herself free.

The man she'd punched in the cellar flipped her over and pinned her with his bigger body. His foul breath wafted into her face.

She threw soil into his eyes and clawed at him. If she didn't get away this time, she might be killed. Or have a fate worse than death.

In return, she received a fist to her stomach and a hand around her neck that cut off her air. All thoughts of escape vanished as she fought just to breathe. Spots formed in her vision as the edges darkened. Her arms weakened and fell to her sides as starbursts went off in her brain and her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

Giddiness made her want to laugh. If she died this way, she would ruin her uncle's plans. Maybe that was worth it. She felt herself drifting away on a painless cloud.

Footsteps pounded toward them. "Let her go," a man ordered. "You can't kill her unless you buy her first. That's the deal."

The hand disappeared from her throat and the heavy weight pinning her down disappeared. No! She was so close to an escape. Despite her fervent wish to keep floating away, her body gasped to take in a life-saving breath. Tears streamed down her cheeks as hopelessness and the pain of her torn skin and broken ribs returned.

They hauled her up, ignoring her scream of pain as her ribs grated, and easily kept her lifted so her feet didn't touch the ground. Their grips on her arms this time left no room for an escape attempt. Their fingers dug into her skin all the way to her bones.

The cabin loomed in front of them. Going off the path must have triggered the magic and turned her around. She should have gone with the puca. She'd ended up back where she started anyway.

Kerrigan fought back the urge to weep as she struggled and kicked, but her captors laughed. They manhandled her into the kitchen and back downstairs to the cellar.

Wishing for her parents to not be dead never worked. Yearning for freedom to live her life did no good. Hoping for someone to care for her, or even about her existence, was useless.

Her uncle tutted disapprovingly at her disheveled state. "This is why I don't give you nice things. You clearly don't appreciate them." He smacked his walking cane into the post. "Let's try this again. Bind her."

An eerie sense of calm took over. She closed her eyes and went limp as they shoved her against the post to shackle her wrists. Maybe she could send her mind somewhere else so she didn't have to be present for what happened next. Desperately, she wished for that cloud she'd just been drifting away on to return.

Cold metal slid over her neck, its sharp point tracing a line across her skin.

The back of her dress fell to her sides as the blade slide down her spine.

"Make her open her eyes!"

"Did you hear that, niece? Open your eyes."

She kept them closed tight. At least she could deny them that much.

'I thought you said she was obedient."

"Punish her."

Their voices jumbled as they called their demands.

The whip cracked through the air. The first lash took her by surprise and didn't hurt immediately. A moment later, white hot agony seared through her, too keen to let a sound escape her throat. Why couldn't she have just died and found her parents?

The lash struck again. Kerrigan bit her tongue, filling her mouth with the taste of blood.

A third strike, and her scream escaped.

The Hunt laughed. Rage that they were enjoying her torture mixed with her pain.

A hot, churning feeling spun in her stomach. As the lash struck again, the sensation spilled from her abdomen and spread through her body. Her blood burned, the inner pain distracting her from the agony on her back.

The whip landed another line of suffering.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. I don't want to be here.

Another strike. She wished for the cloud. That avenue of escape that had been so close.

I want to go! Anyplace but here. Please, take me somewhere else. Anyplace but here.

The next impact tore her skin, and blood flowed. Her head fell forward against the wooden post.

Searing agony rushed from her limbs to her chest. A volcano of fiery pain erupted, dissolving her from the inside out.

Anyplace but here.

Everything went black. Not unconsciousness, which would have been a blessing, but she couldn't see. Jeers and laughter faded to nothing. Blood no longer coated her tongue. The rank smells of lust and sweat vanished. The pain of the lashes on her back and the ropes cutting into her wrists disappeared.

Did she have a body anymore? Had it worked? Was she dead?

That thought made her laugh. Or try to. She felt amusement, but there was no sound. Her uncle wouldn't like that she was dead and had cheated him out of his fun and the money he expected to get for her.

She embraced this new sensation and floated, satisfied to feel nothing. Want nothing. Be nothing.

Kerrigan drifted, free for the first time in her life.

A gentle tugging at her mind tried to disturb her newfound peace. She ignored it. Another pull tried to get her attention. She let it brush past her. The third, fourth, and fifth at the same time were harder to ignore, and like the sensations were aware, once a single one had acknowledgement, the rest became more real. A dozen. Twenty. Fifty.

The soft draws on her attention grew more insistent -- more like yanks. They pulled her one way then another, and she felt herself stretching. There were too many. They'd tear her to shreds!

Let go!

They didn't. Terror set in. Kerrigan flailed and spun, trying to escape grasping pulls.

A sound caught her attention. The first thing she'd heard since everything went black. Rumbley and rhythmic. Like the purring of a contented cat.

All her pain returned as she regained her other senses. She fell, and this time, the blackness that came for her was unconsciousness.

CHAPTER TWO

ELIGOS

Eligos shoved the maps covering his table to one side. There was no reason to look at them. He knew the terrain and had fought this battle before. Just yesterday, in fact. And the day before that. And the day before that. There was no way around another stalemate. Nothing would change.

Even without his gift of foreseeing the future of a battle, he already knew how this would end. They'd been fighting over the same ground for hundreds of years.

He crossed to the window and stood next to his armor, arranged on its stand. On the north side of the plains below his keep, the bivouac of his legions spread east to west in grey tents that had once been white. On the south side, the flesh eaters had their encampment. The skirmishes took place in the middle.

Despite the lack of progress for either side, the battle had to be fought. Without this outlet, a chance to fight enemies, his men would fight each other, and no good would come of that. Soldiers full of aggression didn't fare well when there was nothing to do, and there'd been nothing to do for hundreds of years. Without the daily battles, his army would implode.

Eligos didn't actually want to take the plains, or the swampland beyond. It would just mean more territory to defend and spread his forces thinner, but it had become a matter of pride not to let the flesh-eaters have this ground. They would only grow bolder and try to take more. First the town that had grown up around his keep, then the city beyond.

He ran his hands through the hair constantly falling into his face and glanced around for the band he knew he wouldn't find. Where the things went, he had no idea, but there was never one around when he wanted it.

Jirdris, his second-in-command, knocked on the open door as he entered the study. Only one demon knocked on an already open door with a fist like a battering ram. "Any changes you want to make today?"

Eligos turned from the window. "No. Same again."

Already in black battle armor except for his huge horned helmet, Jirdris turned a wooden chair backward and sat in front of Eligos' desk. The black-skinned demon made an imposing figure even without the segmented tail and curved stinger that lay on the floor behind him. Some demons preferred to hide what they were. Jirdris mostly didn't bother, keeping his scorpion nature on display. Sharp fangs flashed as he raised one hand and tossed a hair tie at Eligos. "What about the other fronts? It's about time to rotate the troops."

Snatching the tie out of the air, Eligos wondered for a moment if Jirdris went around stealing the things so he could dole them out. He shaved his head, so he had no need of the bands, yet always had one to hand. Maybe it was just the trait of an excellent second-in-command, anticipating his commander's needs. But...

Eligos turned back to his armor to hide a grin as he dismissed the ridiculous image of the huge scorpion demon skulking around the keep committing petty theft.

Fighting a war on one front was complicated enough. But he had to split his legions over three. After the Anejas disappeared, the world had erupted in war overnight. The city went from a bustling center of trade to under siege, and had remained so for five hundred years.

He caught his hair in a queue and tied it off as he mulled over the logistics of moving thousands of men from battlefronts miles apart, while ensuring no ground was given. "I'll go to the northern front after the battle today, and the western tomorrow to see how many want to shift." He pulled his breastplate over his head, settling the plate on his back in between his wings and buckling the sides. "Do you want to relocate?"

Jirdris shuddered. "And be wet and salty all the time in the west, or constantly half-frozen in the north? No thanks."

Eligos strapped on his greaves and vambraces.

A furious banging on a door below resounded through the keep.

Jirdris grinned. "Your ill-tempered brute is ready." He rose and strode toward the door.

Uxon didn't like anyone except Eligos, although the warhorse made an exception for the only boy she allowed to saddle her, depending on how many treats he gave her as bribes.

Picking up his gauntlets, Eligos followed Jirdris through the stone hallways. Unlit torches lined the otherwise unadorned walls. "The other side?" No need to ask about his legions. If they weren't in place, Jirdris wouldn't have come to the study.