Warrior Demoness - TI6 Read online

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  Warrior Demoness

  Book VI

  The Illusionist Series

  By

  Fran Heckrotte

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  Copyright © 2008 by Fran Heckrotte

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-934889-28-2

  First Edition

  iSilo e-Book Format

  June 2009

  This electronic book is ePublished by

  L-Book ePublisher, LLC

  La Quinta, Ca. USA

  Email: info@ L-Book.com

  Web Site: http://L-Book.com

  Editor: Alexa Hoffman

  Cover Design by Sheri

  [email protected]

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  This work is copyrighted and is licensed only for use by the original purchaser and can be copied to the original purchaser's electronic device and its memory card for their personal use. Modifying or making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, without limit email, CD, DVD, memory cards, file transfer, paper print out or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank my beta readers who have helped me with the stories of Saira and Warrior Demoness. They have traveled with me on my journey in creating the Illusionist series and were instrumental in getting me to my destination. Thank you Alex D'Brassis, Lee McLean, and Kimberly, my betas... and Mary K. Bosshart, my alpha reader.

  To Pam, your help is invaluable in both beta reading and proofing my stories. Thanks so much for all your hard work.

  Sheri Dragon, my cover artist. Everyone who sees your creations is amazed at your ability to capture the essence of each story. The covers are phenomenal.

  Roxanne Jones... As always, I'm amazed at your computer wizardry. You continue to offer the world the opportunity to enjoy products they normally couldn't access through conventional methods. Keep up the great work.

  To A.L.... thanks for encouraging me to write.

  And yes, to Howie, who is still wondering why I mention him.

  Warrior Demoness

  CHAPTER 1

  SHE HAD volunteered for the assignment, just as she had done all of her life. The consummate warrior, death wasn't a stranger to her or to be feared. How does one fear that which will never happen? Once she had commanded fifty legions for her liege. During the Great Battle, she had lost many demons and minions to the Twin's brigades and never completely recovered from it, perhaps because she never knew where they went when they disappeared. Demons didn't die; at least, that was what she believed.

  The Underlord had been grateful for her efforts but was reluctant to release her from her oath of loyalty. Good commanders, who weren't overly ambitious, were hard to find in the Underworld. Had it not been for the intervention of his wife, Lilith, Sabnock suspected she would still be leading his legions and that would have bored her to death. Even though Dis maintained a strong force, there were no more great battles left to fight. The feud between the Underlord and his Twin had become more civilized. Neither of them seemed to take much of an interest in mankind nowadays. Each left the fate of humans to their own devices or to the mischief of the two immortals' subjects. For that, Sabnock was grateful. Being short-sighted, demons and angels tended to focus more on individuals than humanity as a whole. It gave her plenty of opportunities to keep her skills honed and her sanity intact.

  * * *

  "Sabnock! Get your head out of your ass and get over here!"

  Sabnock smirked. Sgt. Wilkins could be such an asshole but he was proficient at his job and a good leader.

  "Yes, Sergeant!" she yelled back.

  Throwing her rifle over her left shoulder, she loped gracefully over to his position and saluted.

  "Reporting as ordered," she declared, knowing her actions would aggravate him.

  "How many times have I told you not to salute enlisted men, corporal? Didn't you learn anything in basic?"

  "No sir, Sergeant, sir! That's why I'm still a corporal, sir," she bellowed, standing at attention.

  Shaking his head, Wilkins didn't know if she was serious or pulling his leg. One moment she seemed totally incompetent and the next almost brilliant. There was definitely something about her that he couldn't quite figure out, but as long as she did her job, he had no complaints; and Sabnock always did her job when it came to the important matters. Had she shown some ambition, she would have made sergeant a long time ago. It was almost as if she was intentionally sabotaging her chances to rise in rank.

  "The C.O. wants someone to check out a small settlement ten clicks to the south. Intelligence says there are several insurgents stashing weapons and explosives in one of the homes."

  "And how are we supposed to locate these insurgents, Sarge?" Sabnock asked. It was the right question to ask even though the corporal knew she had the ability to find them if she wanted to. Such were the powers of a demoness when she chose to use them. She had decided not to in order to live a more human existence. Sabnock wanted to experience their feelings and emotions as much as was demonly possible. It was the only thing that gave meaning to her life now.

  "That's your problem, Sabnock. The C.O. doesn't want questions. Only results. He knows you've been doing this long enough to get the job done right. Why you keep pissing him off so much is beyond me, but that's your business. Now, get a move on it."

  "Yes, sir."

  Saluting, she pivoted in true military form and trotted off to see who would volunteer for the mission. She knew most of the troops were gung-ho so it wouldn't be hard to get a dozen soldiers to accompany her. Everyone who knew her believed she had some magic charm that would keep them safe. Sabnock could have. She chose not to. Still, it was interesting watching everyone around her behave confidently, especially knowing that belief was the real reason for their luck.

  "Hey Sabby!" yelled a deep voice as she approached the brown camouflaged tents scattered near a partially destroyed building. The area had been secured three weeks earlier. Now, except for the occasional trusted villager wandering by, no one came within a quarter mile of the encampment without being checked. Security had to be tight to protect the troops.

  A tall, lanky soldier with sandy blond hair waved at her. Sabnock smiled. Lanny's voice didn't fit his looks. Baritones were supposed to be big stocky men, not scrawny boys like him. He was a good soldier, though, and had a nice personality.

  "Sarge wants us to check a village nearby. There have been reports of insurgents in the area."

  "Now? We just got back from a field op."

  "That was eight hours ago. Plenty of time to have rested."

  "For you, maybe, but the rest of us need more than a few hours to recoup," Lanny grumbled.

  "Well, the Sarge didn't say when we have to leave so tell the guys to get a couple more hours of sleep and report to me at 1300 hours. I'll go ahead and requisition the supplies we'll need. I imagine we'll be away for a few days."

  "Thanks, Sabby."

  Sabnock knew her buddies were exhausted from a two week stint in the foothills near Sarhadd, a small village in the Wakhan Corridor of the country. Because of its proximity to Pakistan and China and the rugged terrain, it was the perfect location for insurgents to pass unnoticed between Afghanistan and the adjacent
countries. Sabnock and her unit had been in the area for eight months, trying to eliminate the resistance. During that time she had sustained several injuries, but nothing serious enough to cause her to be transitioned out. Unfortunately, three of her comrades had been killed, something she regretted deeply, knowing she could have prevented the loss had she chosen to use her skills as a demon. Her decision not to intervene, however, was not a real problem. In order to understand humanity, she had to play the part the best she could. That meant letting fate have its way no matter how painful the consequences.

  Shaking her head, she tried to push the troubling memories aside. Reminiscing was always painful, but it kept everything in perspective — or at least helped, in a perverted sort of way. One memory in particular would haunt her forever. It was the worst decision she had ever made in her many lives.

  Walking over to a stack of crates, she slid down to the ground and rested her forearms on her bent knees. The sun beat mercilessly down on everything, causing everyone but the guards to stay in their tents. Sabnock loved these moments. It was the only time everything seemed to stop and it reminded her of home, a place she hadn't returned to in several hundred years. There was nothing or no one in the Underworld waiting for her. She had been a loner for as long as she could remember, but once... once. Burying her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and let her thoughts wander back to a time when she had been loved: not as a demon by a demon but as a human by another.

  CHAPTER 2

  IT BEGAN WHEN the messenger appeared at the entrance of her tent.

  "Lt. Lynara, sir. Queen Boudicea sends her regards and requests your presence."

  She remembered smiling when he finished delivering the message. Requests from the supreme leader were actually orders but it made the queen appear more accessible.

  "When and where is this meeting?" she asked, watching him fidget nervously a few feet away.

  "Tonight, after the third watch takes over. Her majesty wishes you to meet her at the old ruins near the druids' circle."

  "As she commands," Lynara said obediently. "Please tell her I'll be there."

  The messenger nodded respectfully and departed.

  Lynara called to her servant to bring her hot water. She would take a bath and dress appropriately for her meeting with the supreme commander. That was what was expected of her.

  * * *

  Five candlemarks later, dressed in her best breches, a doeskin slipover sleeveless tunic with a wide belt, leather boots and matching cloak, she strolled through the darkness toward the ruins. Occasionally, one of the Celtic guards challenged her, but it was merely a formality. Everyone knew the lieutenant was favored by their Queen. Few were willing to alienate the young officer. Besides, the prowess of Lt. Lynara as a warrior was legendary. Only the bravest and most intelligent became officers, unless they were from wealth or royalty.

  A few campfires burned dimly around the encampment. Shadows danced eerily amongst the trees as the flames flickered in the cold winds blowing off the moors. The druids' circle was dark and quiet. It had been abandoned for a long time, when the Romans decided to exterminate them and their followers.

  Looking around, Lynara discovered the site was vacant.

  Good, she thought. Lynara loved the night. It reminded her of home, especially when the fires burned brightly. The dancing flames brought back the nostalgia felt by those who had been away from home too long but knew it would be even longer before they returned.

  "Good evening, Lieutenant," spoke a woman's voice from the darkness.

  "Your Highness," Lynara said, nodding her head respectfully.

  "Thank you for coming."

  "I am always at your command, My Queen."

  Two women stepped from the shadows. The first, Lynara recognized instantly. No one could mistake the large woman with the flaming red hair. Boudicea was impressive as both a woman and a queen, but as a warrior she was magnificent.

  The second woman was smaller and appeared a few years older. Her long dark hair was braided into one large strand and draped over her right shoulder. Black eyes gleamed brilliantly in the moonlight. Petite, she was dwarfed by Boudicea. Still, her bearing was enough to tell Lynara that the stranger was quite capable of handling most situations.

  * * *

  "This is Constance. She is a historian." Boudicea nudged Constance forward with her hand.

  Lynara was surprised. The battlefield was no place for scholars.

  "A historian, highness?"

  "Yes. She has come to write our story. It's important our descendants know the truth about us and how this war started."

  "Truth is illusive and rarely told accurately, My Queen."

  Boudicea nodded.

  "That's why I've asked you to come. Of all my commanders, you, I trust the most to tell how we got to this point."

  "Me? I'm a warrior, not a scholar. Wouldn't it be better to get one of the tribal elders to tell your story? They are familiar with the art of storytelling and know more of your history."

  "Pffft!" snorted the queen. "They embellish everything. Even I, who have been there, don't recognize the events when they tell their stories. No, Lieutenant, I want someone who doesn't have the imagination to make up stories. I mean that as a compliment, Lynara."

  The use of her name surprised Lynara. Never had the queen referred to her by anything except her rank.

  "Of course. I am yours to command, My Queen," she replied hesitantly.

  "Good. Now take Constance to your tent and tell her everything you know to be true. The Romans are on the march and will be here within a fortnight. I want her gone by then."

  "One question, My Queen. There's much I know and a lot I've heard. Should I tell her the latter?

  "Tell her everything. She'll know what's true and what's not. Answer her questions as you would if it were I asking. Now, go. I'm late for a meeting with my generals."

  * * *

  Constance watched the Celtic queen and her young lieutenant with interest. It was obvious there was a great affection between them even though it was unspoken. Both had red hair, not uncommon amongst the Celts. Where Boudicea was big-boned with coarse features and a wild and unmanageable mane, the lieutenant was tall and muscular. Her hair was wavy with an unusual shine. Although it was cold, the warrior's arms were bare, revealing tattooed flames on both of her biceps. Even in the darkness they glowed brightly.

  She must be very confident, Constance thought. An enemy would find her an easy target.

  The historian also noticed that the woman spoke without the usual Celtic brogue and that her Gaelic was flawless. Boudicea, who had been born to aristocracy, didn't speak as well.

  Bowing slightly, Lynara motioned for Constance to go ahead. After touching her fingertips to her forehead in a salute to her queen, the lieutenant followed the historian. Boudicea laughed quietly. The gesture was unique to Lynara and had always amused Boudicea. Several of her generals thought it disrespectful and occasionally objected. Boudicea knew otherwise and forbade them to say anything to the young warrior.

  CHAPTER 3

  BACK IN HER tent, Lynara invited Constance to sit on a small chest near the bed. Although her accommodations were cramped, it was big enough for the two women to be comfortable.

  "What is it you wish to know?"

  "You don't waste time, do you?" Constance asked, tipping her head slightly as she made eye contact with the young officer.

  "I'm a warrior. Time is precious to those who may die at any minute."

  "I imagine it is. Before we begin, tell me something about yourself, lieutenant."

  Lynara stared at the historian for several seconds. The last thing she wanted was to talk about herself.

  "I thought you were to write about our queen."

  "That is my intent, of course, but to understand her, I must understand those who serve her."

  "Understanding me won't help you to know Boudicea. It will only take up valuable time."

  Constance smiled.
r />   "You're a philosopher."

  "If a warrior makes it to my age, he or she can't help but be one. It helps to make what we do and say meaningful."

  "And how old are you?" Constance asked, guessing that the young woman could be no older than three decades.

  "In years or in life experiences?"

  "Let's start with years. Then we can discuss your experiences."