But of whom?

This story speaks volumes. But of whom?

She could hear the cheers all the way at the western gate. The triumphant warriors return. He was a skilled warrior and a devout follower of the God of Fire. A war-priest had to be both to sruvive the trials of Sert and become one of the chosen warriors. He was even a good man. He was, once. That had changed long ago.

She frantically threw her clothes into a bag at the foot of her bed. They had returned more than a week early. She shuddered at how easy it must have been for them to dispatch their targets for them to have returned so early. After her clothes she bagan to pack her few possessions. A music box her father had made for her, a jade elephant passed down to the daughters of her mothers family and a small wooden figurine Malakai had carved for her.

Her eyes filled with tears as her fingers ran over the surface of the small figurine. She remembered a time, many years ago, when she was happy. When they were happy. A time before the drinking, a time before… tears streamed from her eyes as she jammed the figurine into the pocket of her breeches and shouldered her bag. He would stop by the tavern first, he always did. If she made haste, she could be clear of the gate before he knew she was gone.

She was just outside the southern gate when she heard it, her name echoing on the wind. She pulled her cloak tighter and ran. The sun was setting but that would do little to impede a war-priest’s ability to track their prey. It wasn’t long after the moon began to rise in the sky that she heard horses pounding through the hills behind her. She would never reach the village her family lived in before they caught up to her. She had only one hope. She changed course and headed east towards the heavily forested mountains.

The forests on the norther end of the Xaliah’s Wrath mountain range were cursed, home to unholy beasts but more importantly it was the only place that Malakai and his war-priests might not follow. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her. Pushed herself as hard as she could bare. The trees were in sight when the bad of war-priests descended upon her.

The horses surrounded her. Malakai dismounted. “And just where is my wife trying to run off to?” the reek of alcohol saturated his breath. Her eyes darted to the forest then back to him. He looked to the trees. “you know that forest is cursed. The things that call those trees home,” he shook his head and chuckled, “would you really prefer that to a warm, safe house?” She scoffed, “I would rather be anywhere else when you’re drunk on that swill.”

His hand struck her fast and her across the face, knocking her to the ground. “how dare you!” he growled, an all too familiar rage burning behind his eyes. Tears soaked her red, swelling cheek. “the things you’ve done to me,” was all she could say. Was all she had to say. “Lies!” he bellowed as he brought his knee to her face. She fell into darkness.

When she came to her hands were bound to a tree in front of her. The band of war-priests were all passed out around a fire to her left, bottle in hand and breeches unfastened. She sobbed, naked against the tree. The moon was sinking behind the mountains when she freed one of her hands. She quickly freed her other hand and took off into the forest. Branches tore at her bare skin, mud splashed up her back and legs.

She ran through pits of mud and over sharp rocks. Branches whipped her face and chest, briers shredded her legs and she collided with more than a few trees that were concealed behind thick foliage. The only thing keeping her warm was running. So she continued to run. When she finally collapsed at the mouth of the cave, she was bloodied, bruised, exhausted and covered in muck.

As she lay face down in the dirt trying to find the strength to pull herself into the warm air of the cave she heard a strange sound from deep within the cave. A tapping. Like knives on stone. As the sound came closer she began to notice more. A slapping sound like someone walking barefoot on stone accompanied the tapping and then a dragging sound. Like scales across stone. What manner of creature produced such sounds? The answer became terrifyingly clear as a massive reptilian creature emerged from the inky blackness of the cave.

It walked on two stocky legs. Its wide feet each had three chubby, talon tipped toes. Its disproportionately long arms were as thick as tree trunks. Though it stood up straight and tall, easily ten feet tall, its massive five fingered hands hung almost to its knees. Its torso was easily as wide as it was tall and sported a bulbous pot belly. Atop its shoulders sat a vicious looking dragon head. Every inch of its body was covered with scales ranging from a deep shimmering purple on its shoulders to a faded blue on tis belly. She knew a demon when she saw one.

Despite its terror inducing visage it was incredibly gentle as it lifted her from the dirt. Its scales were not cold as she imagined they would be, but rather radiated warmth as it cradled her to its chest. She fell asleep in its arms. When she woke up she was laying on a bed of supple furs. The air was warm and clouded with steam. A few feet away the creature was squatting, messing with something on the floor in front of it. A thick tail curled around its feet. Well, that explains the dragging sound. It stood and walked toward the back of the cave revealing a pool of steaming water. She coaxed herself to her sore feet and walked over to the pool, looking into the water. “it’s a hot spring,” It said from the back of the cave. Its voice was a deep rumble that reminded her of an earth quake. More than that though, Its voice sounded ancient, like it carried the weight of a thousand years.

“I added some oils that will help clean your wounds, so they won’t get infected,” It continued. “you drew me a bath?” she asked. It shrugged. She slowly lowered herself into the warm water. At first the water stung her cold skin, but after a few moments her skin adjusted to the water and the warmth seemed to sink into her bones. She breathed in the warmth. that’s when she noticed the pleasant scent rising with the steam. “Did you add scented oils to the water?” she asked as her face turned a bright shade of red.

Again it shrugged. She sank further into the water. After a few minutes she rose out of the water feeling clean and refreshed. As she stepped out of the hot spring a heavy pelt was draped over her shoulders. “you should rest Little One,” the demon said, guiding her back to her bed of furs. Just as she lay down she heard her name echo through the tunnels. Her heart fell into her stomach and tears welled up in her eyes. Seeing her reaction, the demon knew that whoever was calling her name was the cause of her pain, both physical and emotional. He didn’t like that, he didn’t like that at all. He stood and began walking out of the cave. “please don’t go...” she whispered. He turned around and knelt by her side. “he will never hurt you again,” the demon whispered as he lay a massive hand on her shoulder.

The demon turned and made his way to the entrance of the cave. She could hear him moving though the tunnels. Slap, tap, drag. “surrender my wife and we will spare your wretched life demon,” she heard Malakai’s threat. She was afraid. For all of his faults, Malakai was a skilled warrior. As was every man is his bad. A bellowing laughter came as the demons response, “show me what power the god of fire bestows upon his lapdogs.” A flash of red light illuminated the tunnel. More laughter. More bursts of light. Screams. Silence. She feared the worst.

Slap, tap, drag. Relief flooded her body. Relief? She was relieved that a demon had killed her husband. What did that say about her life? What did that say about her? The demon placed a ring next to her on the bed of furs. A gold band that matched the one on her hand. She cried. Not for the man who had just died, but for the man who had died long ago. The one who rode out of their village all those years ago and never came home. Then she slept. Deeper than she had in years, knowing that she was safe. Safe under the watchful gaze of a hulking demon. Those thoughts spoke volumes. But of whom?