Her dying parents.
The dawn was breaking behind her, to the east, as she rose from her prone position. The demons had all left a short while ago, as soon as the light of day began to make itself known on the horizon. She dropped from the boulder, landing nimbly on the packed earth of her barren home.
Her steps were halting as she stumbled forward, her suppressed grief mounting with every step as she closed in on where her parents were.
“Momma...” she whispered, her voice a hoarse mockery of its usual pure sound.
Her mother was white, an ugly pallid color that burned itself into the young girl’s mind, a color that she’d never seen in flesh before. Under her unmoving body was a huge rusty-brown stain that covered the ground. Elanthielle hesitantly reached up, gently nudging her mother’s shoulder.
“Momma?” She finally swallowed, falling back a few steps as what she knew finally became what she felt. “Oh, Creator...”
She fell back in halting steps until she bumped into something behind her and turned involuntarily. She instantly let out a shriek as she spun into the swinging body of her father. The shock robbed the young girl of her strength, and she fell to the ground, landing heavily as she stared up at the lax flesh that used to be the vibrant man she knew as her father.
“Pappa.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she whispered out the old name, the first name, the true name that she always kept inside for her father. “Oh, Pappa...”
*****
The hot sun was high in the sky before Elanthielle finished her grim work. She’d cut her father down and spent a good part of the morning dragging him into the house and trying to clean him up as best she could. Her mother was harder. Completely aside from the fact that the spikes were solidly entrenched in the wooden wall, the task was made all the more gruesome by the fact that Elan had to remove each of them in turn.
By the time she was done, Elan was coated in the thickening blood that hadn’t drained from her mother’s body, but both of her parents were resting more or less peacefully inside the ramshackle old building.
The girl then spent the rest of the morning cleaning up both bodies, methodically washing them down with water drawn from the small spring. Then she dressed them in the clothes they liked best.
Her father she placed in his armor, tucking his hefty sword in his left hand as she laid him back in his bed.
Her mother she dressed in an old dress that she’d only see her mother wear three times. It was soft and silky and made of some material that she had never known before. When she was done, Elan sat back at the foot of her parents’ bed and just sat there as the heat from the sun overhead began to seep into the house.
She didn’t move until nightfall, the heat of the day already fleeing the home with remarkable speed as the desert gave up its claim on the sun’s wealth. She got up quietly, moving with the grace she’d learned as a method to compensate for the power she lacked. Silently she backed out of her parents’ room and stopped in the open public room of the home. She strapped her small hunting knife to her hip, picked up her slim-bladed sword, and flipped the blade and scabbard over her head and shoulder, letting the weight of it settle against her back.
Elanthielle took a deep breath, her face setting as she moved, and picked up a small lantern that had served her and her momma for sixteen years. She looked at the flickering flame for a moment, then let out the breath in a long exhalation and smashed the lantern against the far wall.
The flames were already flickering behind her as Elan stepped out into the night air.
She paused, looking back at the building that had been her home for sixteen years, and spoke softly.
“I’m sorry, Pappa. I should have been stronger... I should have understood.” Tears welled up in her eyes as they reflected the dancing fires. “I understand now... I know what you meant, Pappa. I’ve chosen my cause... I’ve chosen...” She started to turn away, then paused again and looked back one last time. “Goodbye, Momma... Goodbye, Pappa... I love you both.”
Then she turned and her face darkened, as much by the swell of emotions welling in her as by the fact that the shadows of night enveloped her. She began walking to the north as quickly as she could, moving with long, even strides of purpose as she followed the clearly marked trail left by the murderers who had taken her life.
*****
As the sun set far off in the west, the man called Venadrin looked around his camp with a critical eye. Not that he let it show on his face at all. After all, it didn’t do for a mere human to go around critiquing his superiors. Not even when said human was technically ranked higher than those self same “betters.”
Even so, he had to fight to keep from curling up his lips in disgust. Demons, all of them as a race as far as he could tell, were mentally incapable of anything resembling discipline. Even the lower circle bastards who should have known better were far too arrogant to comprehend the need for piddling things like “security” and “readiness.”
Of course, even an old a hand at watching his back as Venadrin couldn’t really fault them for that, he supposed. They had, after all, been kicking the ass of every living being who dared oppose them for the better part of two millennia. At least.
Truth be told, Venadrin suspected it was a lot longer than that. So it was understandable that they be a little...confident.
Which only made the situation worse, from the human’s point of view. It actually galled him that these lowborn bastards had actually succeeded in keeping down every attempt by human armies to fight back. Even a human like Venadrin, someone who had long ago thrown his lot in with the demons, found it...aggravating to be exposed to such contempt.
He sighed, mentally purging his mind of the unproductive thoughts as he prepared to speak to his demonic “advisor.” That complete, he walked over to the towering hulk of a creature that was calmly eyeing the blood red setting of the sun.
“Skorra...”
“Yes, human?”
Venadrin bit down his anger at the contempt he heard in the demon’s rumbling tones. “We should be moving again soon.”
“What rush?” Skorra, the huge, leathery demon, didn’t even deign to look at the collaborator as he casually asked the question.
“We’ve done our job. It’s time to get back to the city,” Venadrin pressed. “Damasc had allies...friends. We shouldn’t allow ourselves to be caught in the open like this...”
“He was alone.”
“He was not.”
“Female don’t count.”
Boy, you can tell that he’s never been married. Venadrin mentally curled his lips, but outwardly was careful to remain neutral. “Perhaps you’re right. But why risk it?”
Skorra shrugged, then nodded reluctantly. “Very well. Gather them.”
Venadrin nodded, still being careful to monitor his emotions as he turned away. Stupid bastard. Almost makes me wonder why I switched sides. Almost.
Aloud he raised his voice, catching the attention of his “lieutenants.” “Get everyone up and ready to move! You have five minutes!”
*****
Elanthielle had been walking for hours, moving as fast as she could and still maintain a steady pace. Her best guess was that she had been moving for three hours when she found the campsite. It was a pretty bad mess, even for a barren land like her home. The local terrain had been ripped up in a dozen places and soiled in a hundred more. She grimaced as she moved past the waste and refuse that marked the demons’ camp and continued to follow their trail.