The Rise of Fortune and Fury (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 5)

“Hello,” I say genially, not really feeling genial at all. But I’m always one to try conversation first, even though I take a step back and squat slightly for leverage in case he attacks.

“Aren’t you a sweet little piece of meat?” he growls back, flashing a perfectly straight smile.

“Not your piece of meat,” I retort with a shake of my head. He’s got no weapons I can see so if this is just a case of fighting him with bare knuckles, I’m feeling okay about that. I’ve had years of MMA training, and I have taken down bigger men than him.

“Think I’ll roast you first,” he taunts and I frown, thinking that’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard. Then he lifts his arms, strikes one wrist over the other so the brass cuffs clang and flames erupt from his fingertips. When he curls them into fists, I’m staring at an overly muscled dark daemon with flaming hands who is ready to pummel me.

“Crap,” I exclaim as I scramble back a few feet.

He charges, swinging a left roundhouse that I easily duck, and then a right that I also manage to evade. I scurry back several more feet as he growls in frustration.

If he lands a strike, I’m going to catch fire—especially my hair. Which means I need to stay out of his way, yet somehow land some type of knockout strike.

Or… maybe I can use magic.

It didn’t work in the last chamber, but it did in the one before it.

Dropping the torch to the ground, I thrust my hands out, calling upon nature to help me out this time. As I envision it, jets of water shoot toward the daemon, extinguishing his fire-engulfed fists with a hiss.

For a moment, he’s stunned, but then he snarls with fury. He raises his hands to strike the brass cuffs again—presumably to ignite them.

Without hesitation, I hold out my hands. But this time, I don’t call forth water.

I call forth a cyclone of wind that kicks up dust, dirt, and small rocks as it spins toward him. He glances up as it barrels his way, eyes growing wide with shock. The daemon actually starts to turn as if he’s going to try to run, but it’s too late for him.

The funnel encircles his body, locking his arms tight to his side. For a moment, it just spins there while serving as a prison. This is my task that calls for some ethical thought. I fully understand that death can and should be expected to occur once the gauntlet starts.

But I’d prefer not to kill if I don’t have to.

I can’t keep the cyclone on him permanently as I need to move on, so with the thought in mind to spare life if I can, I sling my arms to the side—right toward a stalagmite—and the cyclone obeys my command. It goes hurtling in that direction, then slams hard into the column of stone.

Rather, the daemon slams hard into it while the wind dissipates into nothing. He slumps to the floor, a large knot on his head and a trickle of blood from his nose. I watch him carefully. While he’s out cold, he’s thankfully still breathing.

I don’t wait around to see if he wakes up. Instead, I take off at a run toward where I hope the next passageway is.

I find it easily, seeing it’s short and leads into another cavernous room. I nab the torch affixed to the wall to light the way. The cut to my leg is throbbing, but I’ve regained some of my strength since the swinging axes. Expending the magic I just did back there didn’t even wind me.

I run through the passageway, sensing I might be getting to the end, and come to a skidding halt that kicks up a puff of dust in the next room.

It’s more circular than the others, and the walls are smooth but still slimy looking. I immediately spot the opening on the other side, but I can’t discern any obvious obstacle for me in here. I’m considering a mad dash when I hear a low growl from behind me.

In horror movies, people slowly turn around to be shocked that a monster is standing right there. I immediately jolt forward several paces to get away from the growl. As I’m spinning, I conjure my whip as a weapon, immediately going into a slight crouch with my arm poised and ready to let the thong fly.

To my surprise, there is indeed a beast, but he’s chained to the wall to the left of the entrance I’d just come through. I literally ran right past him without a thought. Had he been unchained, I’d probably be dead by now.

This creature is fae and not daemon, and I open my senses up slightly to see what vibe I get. It’s dark and malicious, but I never let the feelings decide anymore for certain if they are Light or Dark Fae, because that’s just species designation. So, for now, I reserve judgment from whence he descends and merely accept the vibe says he clearly wants to kill me.