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I like this one.
Several Trolvor soldiers meet me at the border, where the battle has sufficiently died down. “Honorable Giroth,” one says in an outward show of respect, his slitted eyes straying only briefly to the woman over my shoulder. I suppose it is better than ‘hound master’. “We have their leader waiting for your judgment.”
“And what of the battle?”
“It is over,” says the other with a sharp nod, sheathing his wicked scimitar at his side. “We have rounded up the remaining viable humans, and are awaiting the Soz’garoth summons from Ti’lith.”
“Very good,” I say, rubbing out the delicious pain in my jaw.
She has a mighty strike, I’ll give her that.
They escort me to the center of the settlement, where a bloodied dark elf trembles on the ground in a fetal position, as if he’s already been beaten within an inch of his life. Beside the reclined Gilak sit what must be two dozen human women chained hand and foot, pale with fright and weeping loudly as if I have any empathy for them.
This one did not weep, I think, clutching her limp body closer.
My soldiers wait for my orders, and I look over the crowd, glad we did not lose any today. The King will be pleased. “This is their leader?” I say of the trembling dark elf who hasn’t dared move from his childlike pose in the grass.
“Yes, Honorable Giroth.”
At his mention, he finally looks up at me, his pupils pinpoints in beady black eyes so big, I think they’ll fall out of his skull. “Demon,” he whispers reverently, scrambling up to his knees though the action seems painful. “Please. Have mercy on an old elf! I can get you more women, money, land. Whatever you want! Just don’t kill me.” He crawls forward on hands and knees, reaching for my boots with bloody fingers. “Master, I’ll do whatever you command.”
I step out of his reach, disgusted. “Were they all like this?”
“Most died with our boots to their throats,” one of the Trolvor replies. “Their magic was useless against the chaos.”
“As I saw.” I circle the leader. “This is pathetic, dark elf. I have met Ur’gin pups with more self respect than you.”
His bloody grin angles up at me, desperate and thin. “Who needs self respect when they have money? I- I have connections! I know the Sorcerer King, himself! You’d be a fool to spurn my friendship, o powerful demon. All that I have can be yours, if you spare me my life. I know people…” He prattles on about his precious connections, but I tire of his excuses.
“The only connection you should be worried about is that of your head to your body, elf,” I spit at him. Then, to my soldiers, “Take him away and drown him in that great lake to the south, then have his body given to the Naga. I’m sure they’ll make good use of such a generous gift.”
“Yes, Honorable Giroth,” they say in unison and drag him away.
He goes, kicking and screaming like a petulant babe. It is an honor to die for your people, but he has no loyalty to his, that is plain to see. I look down at our haul, of the women that the King demanded for me to gather. I am pleased with how many there are, though we’ll soon learn if they’ll be of any use.
One of the women raises her head, her eyes strangely clear compared to the other's. She watches me, her gaze straying often to the woman draped over my shoulder. Do they know one another? And if so, what connection do they have?
I forget the curiosity, eager to be home.
“Stand up,” I demand, and they do so slowly, as if their bodies are heavy with grief. Surely, Ti’lith will be a better place than this slave camp, filled with dead dark elf soldiers, even if they will be used as mere vessels for the Demon King’s spawn.
I have no pity for them.
The storm overhead swells in intensity, and I know our return journey is imminent. Those that set off to drown the leader have returned, and I number their heads again to be sure everyone is accounted for. Twenty three women, and fifty one demons are shrouded in the heavy chaos magic of our home continent that floats leagues above us.
The massive Gilak grunts in displeasure as he is the first to go blind in the swirling vortex because his head is higher than the rest of ours. Then the others go blind too, who accept the curling darkness like a mother’s embrace.
Before my eyes darken with magic, I let the human woman slide into my arms and cradle her unconscious form against my chest. I don’t want anything to happen to her during the transfer, and I feel she is safest here, with me.
She has promise.
The soft, innocent expression on her face is precious. It is a side of her I never saw when she was lucid, her eyes shadowed with fear and defiance and anticipation. Like this, though, I am taken by her beauty and gentle strength. My jaw still aches from her resounding strike from before, and I find myself grinning down at her like a fool.
I’m glad the others can’t see me. They would never stop talking about it.
I look up at that thunderous cloud that envelops us all, closing my eyes to ease the passage between the ground continent and Ti’lith, and when it clears, I sway in the courtyard of the royal estate and breathe the fresh clean air of home.
The other humans sob with more emphasis, their wide eyes panning the high city with fear and disgust. There is much to do before I can give my report to the King. These women will have to be processed, documented, and vetted thoroughly so that we can properly account for them. At least below, I could have a little fun and kill some dark elves.
