Neoni's Saga: the Awaening

I may have posted this story a while ago, but I can't seem to locate it anywhere, so here it is again. It's set in my fantasy world of Thystra, about 200 years after my Wulf stories. I wanted to write a story from a female POV (and if I got anything wrong, my apologies, and feel free to tell me about it), as well as my demons, or demari as they call themselves -- sexy crimson-skinned humanoids with horns, hooves, tails, armored skin, and insatiable libidos. I want this to be the first of a series about Neoni and Onyx, so hopefully we'll learn more in the coming days. Enjoy!

It was a busy day at the Leviathan. A storm raged outside, transforming the grey waters of the Deeping Sea into a wilderness of foam and crashing waves. The tavern was crowded with mariners, doxies and merchants, all shouting for ale and food. My fellow servers and I were hard-pressed to care for them all, but we were managing, and our purses were stuffed full of coppers and even a handful of silvers.

It all began when a drunken shout echoed across the crowded common room.

"'Ey! Who let the damned demon in here?"

***

Once, they called us demons. Perhaps it was because the name we used for ourselves -- Demari, or "only people" in our native tongue -- resembled the Imperial word for "demon." More likely it was our appearance and nature, for we Demari are a race of both fearsome strength and savage beauty. Outwardly we resemble humans and elves and the other upright apish races of Thystra. But in other ways we are different -- our skin is crimson, though in some it varies from pale red to almost violet. Our heads sprout horns, variously like goats, rams, even antelope. We bear tails that move in accordance with our emotional state, our legs bend backwards like animals and in place of feet we have cloven hooves in what priests say is the manner of infernal beasts. And Demari are uniformly beautiful, with alluring eyes that flash gold or green or darkest black and rich thick hair, most often dark as raven's wings.

We came to this world on accident, swept from our own homeland by the terrible disaster that shattered Thystra, millennia ago. Part of our chaotic homeland was drawn along with us, and there we dwelled in isolation until the great wars with the dark elves and the Serpentai destroyed both of our realms and scattered the Demari across Thystra. Today, savage beasts, creatures of chaos and the Serpentai snake-folk rule our lands and we Only People are refugees, dwelling in small communities, neighborhoods or even ghettoes of large cities, trying to make our way and dreaming of the days when we ruled our own lands.

Much about the Demari seems strange, exotic, sensual and even frightening. We live and love violently, many painful things give us pleasure, and we are not known for forming long or loving bonds with others or each other. At the same time, we are adventurous, enthusiastic, and ready to experience new things. Our sorcerers are masters of the wildest magics, our warriors are among the finest in the world, and as lovers we are always in demand by the discriminating and decadent.

Yet we are creatures of chaos, and now -- separated as we are from each other -- the Demari act independently, unable to unite or work together for long. Refugees, wanderers, loners, strangers -- these things we are and always will be unless the Lords of Disorder deign to change our natures.

My name is Neoni, and this is my story. It has been 15 years since my family fled the anti-Demari riots in Xysha. My parent perished in the flames, leaving me alone and lost but for a sympathetic orc, who protected me until we reached the city of Visala in the Border Kingdoms. There, I was left with the humans who would become my new family -- the innkeeper Seb and his wife Kenna. Kindly and childless, they took me in and raised me as their daughter, teaching me the trade of innkeeping.

I learned gladly and grew to young womanhood on the crowded streets of Visala. My life reflected my nature -- wild and unrestrained, always open to new experiences. Seb and Kenna were simple folk, unfamiliar with the ways of the Demari and they despaired of my character and my innocence, but I did not care. Despite their concerns for me and their frequent lectures, I did as I pleased, though all the time I knew that they loved me as I loved them.

When Seb passed in the early spring we struggled to carry on without him. Kenna did the best she could, but without the man who had been her friend and partner for five decades she was overwhelmed, leaving the work to me and her other employees.

Then at last, on the stormy spring day when the ships huddled in Visala Harbor and their crews sought the comfort of the taverns and inns and bawdy houses along the waterfront, came the day when a burly sailor with a scar on his face shouted at me, loudly inquiring who had let the demon in.

***

He was a big human, tough-looking, with a brutal cast to his gaze. His table was covered in cast-off ale mugs and his companions were men of similar demeanor -- scarred, muscular, tattooed. They regarded me with the same hateful stares -- looks that I remembered from the mob that had killed my parents. I had not seen such expressions in more than a decade, and now they frightened me.

I froze at the word "demon," staring wide-eyed at the man as he rose to his feet, upsetting his chair, wiping foam from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Did you hear me?" he bellowed, exposing a mouthful of yellowing teeth. A gold ring glinted from his nose. He was hairless and his bare pate was covered in black tattoos. "Did anybody hear me? Who let this fucking demon in here?"

I stepped backward, my tray swaying. Ale sloshed from the crowded mugs.

Silence spread out from the man like ripples on a pond. The other patrons looked at him either uncomprehendingly or curiously. Many had been coming to the Leviathan for years and knew me, but had never given much thought to my heritage. Now they simply stared, perhaps vaguely interested in what was going on. None moved to help me.

"Here, here." Tymus stepped up to the man, holding out his hand in a friendly gesture. He was a young man, and I knew he was fond of me. "There's no need to cause a fuss. Sit down, have another ale on the house."

The sailor and his companions fixed Tymus with angry glares.

"Mind your business, pup," the hairless man growled. "This is between us and the demon bitch."

"We know their kind," snarled one of the other sailors. "Whores and thieves, the lot of 'em."

Tymus' expression hardened. He was not a small man, and on several occasions I'd seen him eject men much larger than himself.

"If you can't keep civil tongues in your head, I have to ask you to leave," he said, quietly. "Now can I get you --"

The man moved with blinding speed, reaching toward his boot. I saw a flash of steel and screamed out a warning, my tray of ale crashing to the floor.

I was too late. The man slashed his knife mercilessly across Tymus' throat, there was a jet of crimson and the luckless young man crumpled to the floor.

The entire common room erupted into chaos, filled with shouts and screams and motion. The man's two companions rushed into the crowd, swinging chairs and flinging mugs, adding to the commotion. Murro the barkeep ducked for safety while my fellow servers Alia and Shani fled, screaming in fear. Other patrons ran this way and that, tripping over each other, upsetting tables, spilling ale and food across the floor.

The hairless man fixed me with an even more blackly hateful stare.

"Come here, little demon," he rumbled. "I have something special for you."

My paralysis was broken and I turned to flee, but he was on me in a moment, overwhelming me with his massive weight, pinioning my arms painfully behind me. I cried out in terror, struggling to escape, but his grasp was like iron and I felt myself being dragged through the fractured chaos of the room. I gasped when I felt the touch of his knife across my throat and felt the sting of cold iron. It was a heartcutter -- a blade designed to kill Demari and others like us.

A scream echoed from the stairs and I saw Kenna, my human foster mother, small and grey and frail, gaping at me with an expression of utter horror, eyes wide, mouth open. Then one of the other sailors struck her with a closed fist and she collapsed in a heap.

I stared at her still form in disbelief, scarcely resisting as the big man pulled me through the doors and out into the wind-whipped darkness. Behind us the sounds of shouting, fighting and breaking wood faded, lost in the howl of the gale from the sea.

The rain soaked us both immediately, and for an instant I was able to tear myself free and race blindly away from him. But he was on me again, overbearing me with his terrible weight, sending me crashing to the cobbles. I struck my temple against a stone, sending my head spinning. I scarcely resisted as the man pulled me behind the inn. The fearsome knife flashed in one hand.

Sheltered slightly from the wind, the rain still poured down in a stinging rush, but the man did not seem to notice -- he was a sailor and well-used to such things. The look of hatred mixed with lust in his face was truly terrifying as he seized my bodice and slashed at it with his knife, leaving my breasts bare to the elements. I knelt before him, trying to cover myself.

"Demon bitch!" he bellowed, a scrap of my bodice clutched in his fist. "Strutting around, flashing your tits! A slut like all your kind!"

"I'm not!" I cried, desperate but also certain that nothing I said would stop him. "Please! I've done nothing..."

"You've done nothing, bitch?" He struck at me with his open hand, slapping me across the face and sending me back to the ground. "You and your kind have been scheming and killing and cheating for centuries and now it's time to pay!"

He brandished his knife. "I killed two of you demons at Danner's Mill and I'll kill a thousand more before I'm finished! But first..." He licked his lips, water dripping down his forehead, and began to loosen his breeches. "But first you have something I want, bitch."

He was on me, one hand seizing me roughly around the throat. With his knife hand he slashed at my clothes, tearing my skirt away, then pressed my legs apart with the sheer weight of his body. I felt the hardness of his sex against my thigh. I'd felt such things many times before, certainly -- but never in the face of such horror and brutality.

I screamed then, my voice rising above the howl of the wind. The hand on my throat tightened, cutting off my cries. I continued to struggle, getting one foot underneath him and kicking desperately. The ball of my foot stuck the soft tissue between his thighs and he swore, yelping in pain.

"Bitch! Slut!"

I tore away, trying to flee back toward the relative safety of the inn, but the knife flashed and I felt steel stab up under my chest, sending cold pain shooting through my entire body.

Gods, no... Please... Not like this...

With the pain, fire seemed to explode inside my head, fear and rage and desperation all fouled together in a single outburst. My vision flared yellow-white as bright as the sun and I heard another scream join my own.

It was another moment before my vision cleared and I found myself lying against the wall of the inn, naked save for a few tatters of clothing, rain washing down upon my bare skin. Blood gushed black from the ugly slash in my abdomen. I could barely see for the red flashes that threatened to overwhelm me.

Gods and ancestors... Am I going to die?

The other two sailors stood above me, glaring in rage and hatred, each with a knife in his hand.

Their companion lay motionless on the ground, his clothes smoldering in the rain, his face covered in burns.

"What have you done to him, demon?" demanded the first, stepping toward me.

"Nothing," I cried, terror and confusion swirling inside me. "I did nothing. Please..."

He brandished his knife. "Tell us, demon. Tell us what you did, or we'll..."

A cloaked figure emerged from the rain-filled dark behind the two men and I saw the flash of a blade. The first sailor stumbled, his cry of surprise fading into a dying gurgle as blood gushed from his slit throat. The second began to turn, knife at the ready, but fell just as swiftly, a dark stain spreading across his chest. Both fell motionless into the mud.

I screamed weakly as the newcomer loomed over me, throwing its hood back.

Vision faded and cold darkness rushed up, but I could see the stranger's face. She was beautiful, with rich ebon skin and silver-white hair. Her eyes burned with deep violet fire and her lips were the color of black roses. She looked at me with a strange mixture of anger and compassion.

"I..." My voice faltered. I felt the last of my lifeblood leaking away. I was to die here in the rain, never even knowing my rescuer's name.

"Sh." The woman knelt down beside me. "You're hurt, girl. Let me help."

Some compulsion made me try to reach up to touch her black-skinned face but I was too weak. I did not resist as she lifted me up and embraced me.

"I give you of my life," she whispered, then her lips pressed against mine. I felt her mouth open and a warm, tingling sensation as her tongue slipped into my mouth. Comfort flowed from her and I felt sleep -- not death -- sweep down over me, covering me in a soft, sensual blanket.

***

Dawn touched the warped glass window of my little room upstairs at the Leviathan. I felt stiffness in my limbs and a distant ache where the man had stabbed me. I pushed back the coverlet and looked at the spot, just beneath my ribs. To my surprise all I saw was unbroken crimson skin, as if a knife had never touched me.

"You're awake," said a voice. "Take care. You've been though quite a lot."

I looked up. She sat at the foot of my bed, regarding me with an appraising but at the same time strangely reassuring gaze.

My brief glimpse of the woman the night before had revealed little. Now I could look at her and see what a vision she truly was. Her skin was uniformly black -- the humans called the men of the Veldt Lands "black," but they were actually a deep and rich brown color that I found beautiful. This woman was truly black as night, and her long, braided hair and eyebrows gleamed silver. Her eyes were just as impressive as I remembered, staring at me lit with inner light, glowing pale violet. Her face was soft save for high, aristocratic cheekbones and a delicately pointed chin, with full, pursed lips of rich and dark royal purple. She was clad in black silk traveling clothes that revealed little about the shape of her body, but some unbidden desire made me want to see what she truly looked like.

I realized suddenly that I was naked and that in casting off the bedclothes I had revealed most of myself to her. Many have told me that my breasts are large and well-formed, and that my stomach is a soft and gentle thing of beauty, but my immediate impulse was to cover myself. To my own surprise it passed and I found myself comfortable and even slightly flattered by the woman's approving gaze.

"You're the one," I said. "You saved me last night. I'd have died if you hadn't come along."

"You were doing well enough," she said. "That first bastard was dead and if he hadn't stabbed you, you'd probably have treated the other two the same way." She smiled. "I've come quite a way searching for you, Neoni Seaborn."

I frowned. "You've been looking for me? You know my name? And I have no idea what I did to the sailor last night. After he stabbed me I screamed and then he was dead."

"So you don't know." She nodded. "I'm not surprised. Living in a backwater like this you won't often find cause to use your innate talents. Well that's all over now. I'm here to tell you about your heritage. And your destiny."

My frown deepened. "What destiny? What are you talking about? And who are you, anyway?"

She lowered her head slightly. "Call me Onyx," she said. "I've come a very long way to find you."

***

The rest of the day did not go as well as its beginning. I dressed and went downstairs only to find the Leviathan closed, with Alia, Shani and Murrol sitting in the shadows, drinking and weeping quietly. I soon joined them when they told me that Kenna had died from the blow she had suffered in the brawl. The woman who had raised me as her own child, who had taught me, who had stayed awake nights worried for me and my safety, and had helped me become the young woman I was today, was dead. That her killers were also dead made little difference to me. The bright light that had guided my entire life had gone out.

She lay in state at the town's small temple of Kybor, and funeral services were scheduled at sundown. I spent most of the day crying and remembering the old yet beautiful woman whom I had called "mother."

The newcomer, Onyx, kept her distance and did not interfere with my grieving. For that much I was grateful. Her mysterious pronouncements and strange suggestions could wait another day for resolution.

Perhaps a dozen of us gathered that night to pay tribute to Kenna -- I and my fellow workers at the inn, of course, as well as some of the local folk with whom she did business, and a handful of friends. It was a small gathering, for the Leviathan had been her home and her family.

There was nothing left for me but painful memories and the horror of that last night. Kenna had willed the Leviathan to me and the other employees, but for some reason I had no desire to carry on. Without Kenna my jobs would be empty and pointless, and the tiny town of Visala would seem little more than a prison. After the ceremony I spoke with Alia, Shani and Murrol and they agreed to buy my share of the tavern from me out of Kenna's savings. What I would do next I did not know.

It was long past sundown when I returned to my little room at the Leviathan. The light of two moons shone through my window as I undressed and crawled into bed, weary and saddened.

I dreamed strange dreams that night. I wandered a blood-soaked battlefield that was covered with the corpses of men, elves, dwarves, orcs and other even stranger creatures. The moons hid behind purple clouds. In the center of the field an ancient pile of ruins burned with black fire, and a great shape emerged, darkness spreading about it like a cloak.

A fearsome voice echoed from the shape and yellow eyes burned, staring at me with malevolent intent.

I am Onyx.

I awoke with a start, alarmed, heart pounding. I lay on my bed, naked, and my arms were stretched out over my head, held immobile against the posts, bound by black leather straps with big iron buckles. Beyond my bed I could not see the familiar shapes of my room -- my table, dresser, bookshelf, the windows -- but only a vague purplish mist infused with the same dark colors as the sky in my dream.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Neoni," echoed a voice from near the foot of my bed. I started and tried to cry out, but only muffled sounds emerged. I felt the harsh touch of leather across my mouth -- I had been gagged as well as bound.

Onyx emerged from the swirling clouds like a statue carved of shadow. She was all but naked, clad only in a brief leather halter that barely restrained her ripe and overflowing breasts, and a belt of silver coins supporting a violet breechcloth that revealed a pair of lithe, muscular legs. She wore silver slippers that were laced up to her knees, and she moved with the graceful sway of a dancer. Her stomach was flat but the flesh looked soft and a delicate silver ring flashed at her navel.

"And I'm sorry that I must treat you in this fashion," she continued. "But you will understand soon enough."