fabric of my workout pants and look at the cut to the outside of my thigh. I was at enough of an angle that the ax nipped me but the cut is about three inches long and freely bleeding. I can’t see how deep it is, nor do I want to as I might pass out. With nothing to bandage the wound or even pack down inside my pants, I ignore it and hope it’s superficial enough that I won’t die from blood loss.
There’s another opening in the cave wall with a torch on the wall beside it. But this one doesn’t have a short passage to another room but rather seems to stretch on into the darkness. I grab the torch, pray there are no more snakes, and step through.
The passageway I follow is wider than the others and actually meanders in gentle curves and bends. To my surprise, torches appear on the walls along the way, but I keep the one in my hand just in case.
After several minutes of careful walking, I come out into another cavern, but this one is different from the others. It’s larger in width and depth with stalagmites rising in thick columns from the floor all the way up to the low-hanging ceiling. The effect is to parcel the large cave into sections and provide plenty of places for someone or something to be lurking behind.
I immediately go into defensive mode, walking several feet away from any stalagmites lest something come leaping out from behind one. Even though there are plenty of torches, the columns of rising rock block the light depending on where I walk, so the cavern is mostly shadowed. At this point, I can’t even see the next opening I need to go through, but I try to keep walking in the same direction.
When the attack comes, it’s not in the form of a beast leaping out from behind a stalagmite.
Instead, it’s a dark daemon who casually walks around one so as to put himself in my path. It’s not overly tall, maybe five-ten or so, but he’s built like a linebacker. His aura is thick and black, but I don’t need it to see the evil intent in his eyes.
Wearing nothing but leather pants, his bare chest is shiny as if covered in oil and he’s got two brass cuffs around his thick biceps and another two around his wrists. His countenance is humanoid, much more than any other daemon I’ve seen before. He’s actually kind of handsome with a square jaw that projects strength and determination. His Light and Dark Fae parents must have been nobles or royals, I’m guessing.
“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