A Demon's Child

Saban

Dawn. What a lovely time of day. I yawned as I watched colors fill the slowly brightening sky. I looked down at Anita, still sleeping peacefully in my arms. She was so cute when she was asleep. I listened to her slow, steady heartbeat and her quiet breathing while I ran my fingers through her dark blond hair. Sunlight fell on her closed eyes, and she began to stir. I shifted to shade her eyes, and she settled into deep sleep once more.

I settled down to wait for Anita to awaken on her own. Hopefully, by the time she woke up, her magical reserves would be refilled, and her mind would have mostly healed. I knew she would feel a lot more secure once she regained the ability to command me. Even with our agreement, she didn't trust me. I didn't blame her. She didn't know the real reason I'd agreed to obey her of my own free will.

Anita thought our agreement was all about my desire to remain in her world. My desire to stay here was real, but it wasn't because I was bored with the demonrealm. It was because I loved her.

I sighed. In all the centuries of my existence, I'd never felt this way before. I hadn't even known it was possible. Demons didn't fall in love. Until now, I'd only known love from my observation of mortals. I'd seen it as a weakness to be exploited. I'd never expected to feel it myself.

A high, clear note of music broke my quiet contemplation. It cut off before I could figure out where it was coming from. Anita stirred. The chiming sound came again. Anita's eyes blinked open. She yawned. I sighed. So much for letting her sleep. The note chimed again. This time I could tell it was coming from Anita's pack.

Anita squirmed, trying to get out of the bedroll. "Let me out!" she ordered me. "I've got to answer it!"

I sighed again, and shifted so Anita could wiggle out and scramble over to her pack. As the chime rang out again, she fumbled in the largest pouch, cursing. "Where is the damned thing? Can never find it when I need it..."

As I slid out of the bedroll and sat up, a hair brush whizzed past my ear, followed closely by a pair of panties. As the bag chimed a fifth time, Anita dumped the entire lot out onto the bedroll. She pawed through it. "It's not here! How can it not be in here?"

As the note rang out the sixth time, Anita paused briefly, thinking, and then reached into the smaller pouch where she kept a her journal. She withdrew a hand sized mirror that shone with a soft blue light. Hurriedly she breathed on it. The blue light faded, and the glass fogged. When the glass cleared, it no longer showed Anita's reflection.

"Master Evona!" Anita exclaimed. "I wasn't expecting you to mirror me!"

The Master Wizard Evona, one the thirteen master wizards who led the Kerath Order of Wizardry, sighed. "Obviously. I was beginning to wonder if you would pick up."

Anita visibly composed herself. "My apologies, Wise One. To what do I own the honor of this personal message?"

"Disaster," Evona informed her. "One of the sixth year apprentices was tricked by his familiar into opening a portal to the demonrealm."

Anita paled. "How?"

Evona shook her head. "We have no idea. The apprentice himself is dead, and his demon is long gone. Fortunately, we were able to close the portal quickly. Only about a dozen demons got through. They, along with the apprentice's former familiar, have fled Rowan Castle."

"We need you here to help with the cleanup," Evona continued. "You are one of the most powerful wizards in the order, and when it comes to dealing with demons, you have a certain advantage others lack."

Advantage, I guessed, meant me. In addition to my combat prowess, I could force both lesser and greater demons to obey me. Without me, the Order would have to chase down and corner each demon in order to banish it. With me, all they had to do was wait for the demons to answer my call.

"Should I finish with the tower first?" Anita asked.

"Wizard Lino's tower can wait," Evona said. "This cannot."

"Ok. Anything else you need to tell me, or should I start packing?" Anita asked.

"No," Evona answered. "I'll give you more details when you get back to Rowan. Please travel quickly."

"I will. See you in a week," Anita said before breathing on the mirror again. When the fog cleared, Evona was gone.

Anita

Since Saban hadn't set up the tent last night, and we hadn't started a fire, all we had to do to break camp was repack the bag I had just dumped out, roll up my bedroll, and fill in the waste pit. Saban did most of the work. Well, actually, he did all of it, finishing the tasks quickly and efficiently while I washed up, changed clothes, and had a quick breakfast. As I finished the last bite of my trail bar, I glanced over to where Saban was waiting patiently for me to finish. Most demons hated to work. They were resistant enough to doing anything resembling a chore that it usually easier to just do it yourself. Even before Saban and I had come to our arrangement, he hadn't been as recalcitrant as most demons. Now, he did what was needed without me even having to ask.

That had essentially been the core of our agreement; Saban would do what I wanted provided I didn't order him around too much. It was still weird to see him willingly perform menial tasks, especially ones like filling in the waste pit.

I tucked the cloth wrapping from my trail bar into my pack and stood. "Ok, I'm ready to go."

Saban nodded. "Turn around. I'm going to shift."

I turned. Saban was oddly modest about his shapeshifting abilities. He didn't like me to watch when he made major alterations to his form. Not that I wanted to watch. Demonic shapeshifting was very utilitarian, with no energy wasted on grace or beauty. The demon focused on his desired shape, and his current form warped into the new one. The moments in between forms were very disturbing to look at, especially since elements of the demon's terrifying true form were often mixed in with elements of the previous form and the next.

I heard a soft snort, and turned around. Saban was now a fine looking black stallion, complete with a saddle. The saddle had come from the same place his clothes had gone. Demons could materialize simple inanimate objects, though those objects would vanish if the demon stopped touching them. Scholars still hadn't figured out how or why.

Saban knelt to allow me to mount. I could have gotten up without help, but the large size of Saban's horse form meant that this was much, much easier. After hooking my pack onto the saddle, I swung my leg over his back and settled my feet in the stirrups. "Ok, I'm ready."

I gripped the saddle horn as Saban carefully rose. There were no reins. While Saban had been fine with turning into a horse, letting me ride him, and even wearing a saddle, he had flat out refused to wear a bridle. I hadn't pushed the matter. Reins weren't really necessary; unlike a real horse, Saban could understand spoken commands.

When he was sure I was settled on his back, Saban began to walk. He picked up speed, briefly entered a fast trot, and then broke into a smooth canter. I watched the scenery fly past.

This was the main benefit of me riding Saban when traveling. A real horse couldn't canter very far without getting tired, especially when carrying a person. Saban, however, could keep up this pace all day. Actually, he could spend the whole day at a gallop if he wanted, but that would be bad for my butt. Saban's supernatural endurance reduced our travel time by two thirds. The council of masters were thinking of making use of this by having us carry mail. I hoped they wouldn't. Riding along a mail route all the time would be boring. I would hate it, and, moreover, I doubted Saban would react well to being bored.

I would have been perfectly happy staying at Rowan, the castle that housed most of the country's wizards. Saban wouldn't have disliked it enough to rebel; he enjoyed the library. The council of masters, however, had been sending us on as many distant jobs as they could. Saban made them nervous. I couldn't blame them. He was a demon lord, and every other wizard who had tried to make a demon lord into their familiar had died. I had not only made Saban my familiar, I had convinced him to serve me willingly. The council did not know what to make of our odd arrangement, and they did not like that.

Soon the small track we were traveling over met up with a real road. As it was the road that led to the only pass through the Bengeli mountains, it was well traveled. Saban carefully avoided the deep wheel ruts and the many potholes.

I felt something lightly brush my crotch. I looked down to see a thin black tendril reaching out from beneath the saddle. It felt its way up to the waist of my pants, and then began to slither inside.

I smacked it. "When we stop for the night. Not a moment before."

Saban tossed his head and snorted. The slender tentacle retreated.

I sighed. "This is something like the tenth time you've tried that. Did you really think it would work this time?"

We passed many wagons as well as other riders, some of them going in the same direction as us, some going the opposite way. As usually, everyone we passed on the road stared. It wasn't just because of the fast pace we were keeping, or the lack of a bridle. I sighed. Saban had been too vain to look like a common work animal. Instead, he'd chosen a form that looked like a warhorse. A very expensive warhorse.

The first time he'd taken this form had been not long after we'd made our agreement, when I'd been carefully exploring the boundaries of our relationship. Saban had offered to carry me, and I'd worried that, if I complained about his choice of form, he'd retract his offer, or, worse, get angry. Now I was confident that, if I overstepped my boundaries with Saban, he'd tell me, not fly into a rage. However, now he'd been using this horse shape for so long that I'd kind of gotten use to it. It would be weird if Saban started to look like something else when he was a horse.

The stares were not the only drawback of Saban's conspicuous choice of form. I'd had several people offer to buy my fine horse. Turning them down was always awkward. And once we'd attracted horse thieves.

I sniggered at the memory. Actually, the horse thieves hadn't been so bad. For me, anyways. For the thieves themselves, it hadn't been so pleasant. They'd seemed almost relieved when the watchmen had taken them away.

We reached the nearest town around lunchtime. Sometimes Saban transformed back into his human form before entering a town, but today he walked right in and stopped in front of the local pub. It was, I noted, called the Righteous Pub. Sounded religious. I wondered which religion. Hopefully, I wouldn't have someone try to convert me over lunch.

A few of the local men were hanging out around the blacksmith's shop, which was right across the road from the pub. They gaped at us as Saban knelt to let me off. They probably hadn't seen a horse do that outside of a circus, if ever. I could hear them muttering among themselves as I went inside without tethering my horse. I wondered if we should try harder to maintain a low profile.

It was nice to eat something besides trail rations, I thought as I bought a plate of the daily special. It looked like I wasn't the only one stopping here for lunch. The tiny pub was pretty full, mostly of traders on their way to or from the Bengeli pass. There weren't actually any empty tables. I was considering the situation when a large, bearded man with greying hair motioned me over. I sat across from him. He introduced himself as Werthan, and we chatted some, mostly about the weather, while we ate. When he told me he traded horses, I braced myself for what was coming. Outside of the window, Saban idly nibbled on a scraggly patch of grass.

"You've got a particularly fine animal," Werthan said. "Where did you get him?"

I shrugged. "Not one of the usual sorts of places."

"How much would you want for him?" Werthan asked, putting his fork down on his empty plate.

"He's not for sale," I told the grey bearded man.

Werthan looked at me thoughtfully. "Is that because you don't want to sell him, or because he doesn't want to be sold?"

"Both," I told him, surprised.

Werthan chuckled. "Don't look so shocked. He doesn't wear a bridle, and, despite not being tethered, he hasn't wandered away. And there's something in his eyes. Something sharp. It's obvious he's much more intelligent than a regular horse." He looked thoughtfully over at Saban, who was now investigating some real horses tethered by the water trough. "Human level intelligent?"

I nodded. "Very much so."

"Have they overcome Terak's barrier, or was he originally a normal horse?" Werthan asked, eyes alight with curiosity.

I blinked, once again surprised. Terak's barrier was the scholarly term for whatever kept wizardry from changing an object or animal's weight during transfiguration. Not many non wizards knew about that.

Werthan saw my surprise. "I'm fascinated by theoretical magic," he told me. "I may not be

able to perform spells, but I have a knack for understanding the logic and mathematics behind them. I work with one of the wizards in Marra sometimes. I come up with theories, and she tests them. Together, we've been able to create a new spell for curing warts." He shrugged. "Not the most useful of innovations, but an excellent proof of concept. I presume you are a research wizard? Or is the horse not your creation?"

Normally, I preferred not to reveal that Saban's true nature. However, Werthan seemed more likely to be curious than terrified. "Neither. He's actually a demon."

"You allow him a lot of freedom," Werthan noted, raising his eyebrows.

I shrugged, suddenly self conscious. "We've come to an arrangement of sorts. He does what I want, provided I don't treat him like a slave."

Werthan nodded, smiling. "Ah. I thought I recognized your name."

I frowned. "You recognized my name?"

"The agreement you made with your demon has made quite a splash in the academic community," Werthan said. "You've disproven a lot of theories."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"As you know, the traditional method of dealing with demons has always involved threats," Werthan explained. "Whether you threatened to hurt them, or to withhold some sort of reward, threats have always been a central part of demonology. Most academics thought demons were fundamentally unable to grasp the concept of cooperation, even amongst themselves. You've gotten a demon to work with you willingly, and, in doing so, have proven that a lot of what we thought we knew about demons is wrong."

I frowned. "Saban's not exactly working for me out of the goodness of his heart. I still reward him."

Werthan smiled. "Yes, you do, but he hasn't tried to trick you, has he? Or take the reward by force? Your demon has decided that, instead of trying to cheat you, he will treat you fairly and trust you to do the same for him. In the long run, multiple honest deals will be more profitable for him than a single double-cross, but, as far as we know, Saban is the only demon to ever realize that. Research wizards everywhere are wondering why."

With a chuckle, Werthan added, "Actually, most of the less academically inclined wizards have heard of you, too. Or at least the ones in the countries Kerath trades with. You've even made a bit of an impression on the general population. There's a song about you. It's not one of the more popular ones, but it's out there."

I hadn't expected to make this much of an impression on the world at large. I wasn't sure I liked it.

Werthan stood. "I need to get going. Can't waste the daylight. Got to be in Yeyton in three days." Yeyton was the city at the Bengeli pass, in the opposite direction from my destination.

"It was nice talking to you," I said automatically, still thinking about my newly discovered reputation.

I needed to get going, too. While a lunch that wasn't eaten on horseback was very nice, I couldn't take too long of a break. And Saban would be getting bored. He tended to make trouble when he was bored.

I mounted up, and we continued our journey. As we traveled, the gently rolling plains gave way to to patchy scrubland, which, in turn, gradually gave way to thick brush. We passed small village surrounded by cleared fields and pastures, and then the tangle of plants closed in around the road once more. Not long after that, the trees began to get bigger as the smaller plants began to grow more and more sparse. We were entering the Annuit Forest. The road was much smaller now that it wasn't a major trade route.

Not long before sunset, Saban slowed to a walk, and then left the road. After awhile he came to a stop in a small clearing, and then turned his ears toward me.

I examined the area. There was enough space for a tent and a firepit, and I could hear a stream nearby. The ground was smooth, level, and free of roots and stones. An excellent choice of campsite. "This works," I told Saban.

He knelt to let me off his back. I slid off and unhooked my pack, grateful that this day of riding was over. By this point in the journey I no longer got sore, but it was still tiring.

Most travelers only camped when it was absolutely necessary, preferring to sleep at inns if at all possible. However, Saban and I had deliberately avoided stopping in towns. Inns had small rooms and thin walls. Saban didn't really care if people heard us, but I wanted privacy.

Saban went off behind a pine tree to shift back to his human form, and I began to prepare the fire pit. I was starting to clear away some of the thin creepers that covered the ground here when I was grabbed from behind. Strong hands pushed me to the ground and flipped me over on my back. Then Saban was on top of me, pinning me down, and his lips were pressed against mine.

Normally the deal was I ate first, and then Saban fed, but, as a tentacle wormed its way into my pants, I decided to just go with it. Saban's hand slipped up under my shirt and camisole to lightly pinch one of my nipples, making me gasp. Something lightly brushed my clit, and I moaned.

Without breaking the kiss, Saban began to unfasten my shirt, and two tentacles began to tug down my pants as a third handled the buttons. Saban himself was already naked. The tentacle against my clit quivered, its tip just barely touching my sensitive nub. I quivered with it. Four more tentacles began to work on my breasts, two gently caressing them as one tightened around each nipple.

Saban deepened the kiss, his tongue gently exploring my mouth. I barely noticed him removing my shirt and camisole, and I only realized my pants were around my ankles when I felt Saban's cock gently pressing against my pussy lips. The tentacle on my clit was working hard, and I was ready, so very ready. But Saban didn't enter. Instead, he pulled back from my mouth, just a little, so he could murmur against my lips.

"Do you want it?" he whispered.

I wanted him so badly, but his firm grip on my hips kept me from shifting to take him in. I moaned, and lifted my head to press my lips against his once more.

He pushed me back. "That's not an answer, love. Tell me, do you want it?"

My clit was still being expertly manipulated, as were my nipples. Saban's cock shifted against my pussy, making it throb with need. I tried to answer, but the only sound that escaped me was a strained whimper.

I could feel Saban's smile against my lips. "Until I get an answer, this goes no further. Do you want it, Anita?"

I looked into his eyes, gasping, and silently pleaded for him to understand, to just give it to me, because there was no way I could speak.

Saban's eyes bored back into mine. "Anita, do you want me?" There was something odd behind his eyes. Something desperate, and sad. "Please."