Epilogue

Ita Mal sat behind his desk in his fort in his chair. ‘Mine, all mine… the fort, the office, the chair, the clay for tablets and the people from warrior to washerwoman… and of course… this.’ He tapped his false wooden hand against the desk, and pulled it free from the stump. In a woven basket on the right side of the desk there were a slew of other hands, each one in a different position. He chose one which was closed around an etching pen and stuck it over the stump. ‘At least this one is better than the first one, that other one I had to have a servant to attach and secure with straps.’ The current model had a series of rotating wooden sticks secured to a round little wheel that, when turned, would tighten into place to ensure it wouldn’t come loose. The latch clicked into place and he was ready.

His good right hand picked up a pitcher of water and he dripped the contents to spatter over the clay. The already dark material darkened further as it soaked in the moisture, and then with his sharp edged pen he began to write.

“To Your Majesty, may you endure forever, the King of Seven Hills, may it endure forever, I send greetings. Since receiving the…,” He paused and lowered his wooden hand to the table, leaned back in his low seat and stared up at the clay tiled roof. “Can I really say ‘glory’ for this task?” Ita Mal asked himself.

Hardly. There was no battle to be had and even if there were, ‘I’m no longer fit to fight anyway…’

His nominal task, command the outlying fort, send out raids to capture villagers outside the kingdom, clear the land out for city peasants to move in, and find fresh labor for mines or public works.

But in reality?

‘How long has it been since we’ve actually caught anyone? And now it’s winter and we can’t go out in force anymore…’ He chewed on his tongue and looked up at the red sloped ceiling.

“How in the world do I say I’ve had the glory of putting dirt poor peasants on fresh dirt, and everywhere we go is as empty as an unused grave?” He asked the empty room, and of course neither the tapestries or fine foods or silver platters chose to answer. The sheep’s head just looked up at him, its facemeat baked and slathered in thick sauce, its glazed eyes almost accusing, fairly daring him to make something up.

‘He’ll know something is wrong when I don’t send him any captives. But more importantly why are all the villages empty? Not even a piss pot left behind… have we been caught? Did we overstep and now word has spread?’ That was an unpleasant prospect.

He snorted and looked down at his wooden hand. ‘We overstepped at least once, that much is for sure… but that was far east of here. We couldn’t be encroaching on the Demon Lord’s domain. So why? Why are we finding so few living bodies?’ Ita asked himself, and like his wondering about whether he could call his new position ‘glorious’, he lacked an answer to that as well.

Devoid of excuses as much as he was of answers, he chose to write the plainest truth and let his cousin and the priests worry about why.

He groaned quietly, rolled his eyes, and picked up in his writing where he left off, “...the significant task of clearing land for your landless children and seeking the living bodies of foreign places to enrich your glory, we have performed our duties without bloody incident. However with that, comes the mystery of empty villages. Seven tens of times have our soldiers scouted and found people, and each time when we return to claim the labor required, we find only empty homes. As if the great dervishes themselves have swept up our prizes and carried them away from us.”

“Perhaps the invincibility of Your Majesty’s forces is now known throughout the world from the palace of Seven Hills to the mountain hall of the Demon Lord of Red Mountain. Whatever the cause, they give way before us and leave us land behind, but with neither tools to work nor grain stores to tide them over, I must ask that in your Enduring wisdom, you dispatch all future settlers with materials for work and survival, we can no longer count on it being left for us.”

“Glory to the ever enduring Kingdom of Seven Hills, and to yourself, may you endure forever, from my hand to your eyes.

Lord Ita Mal, writing”

Ita Mal spun the wheel to release the writing hand and put it back into the basket, he replaced it with another wooden hand with a matching base that could be secured into place, but the shape instead had some slightly adjustable fingers that he could work with his good hand and ‘lock’ into various positions.

He closed the hand around a bell with a thick ball attached to the end of the handle so that it would slip through the weak wooden grip, lifted it, and rang it several times.

A page boy wearing a thick goat fur shirt and hat rushed in through the heavy wooden door and knelt before the desk. “Take this tablet and have it baked, then have it sent straight away to the King as soon as it’s hardened, don’t even wait for it to cool.” Ita Mal commanded.

The boy rushed over and took the wooden slat on which the clay tablet sat, and holding it in both hands to ensure he didn’t disturb the letters etched into the soft material, he rushed from the room in silent obedience to the Lord of the fort.

“Now it’s in your hands, cousin.” Ita muttered, and then rose to his feet to go inspect his troops one more time before the snows buried the land around them and shut them all in for the winter.

“...And so with that said, we feast!” Sadrahan shouted and clapped his hands together after delivering his speech to a larger number than he’d ever imagined could be gathered into one place. Snow was starting to fall heavier on the ground, enough so that every step was a crunch of boot to white, and nobody seemed to care for it, but the cheers went up long and loud from the base of the mountain anyway.

They had little in the way of tables still, but rocks and cut strips of wood beaten into the ground over which goat and bearskins were stretched taut, made for a quick improvisation. And as an added feature, beneath each stretched skin sat a small fire pit to warm those who stood around the meal. The crackling noise of a thousand burning logs was music to the formerly starving, and the sheer numbers of those present eased the fears of those who lost everything and nearly every one to the human raiders.

The ‘captive’ humans, far from sitting apart, were scattered about in various places among the demons and each other. Between Shala’s diligent work nursing Assamo, and word that the Demon Lord no longer believed they were at all involved in any attacks on demon villages… they found their place within the population.

The fire pits where food was cooked were many in number and smoke rose up higher and higher as firewood was constantly added to keep the meals hot. Beyond the public feast where demons and humans alike now tore into flesh, bread, fruits, and various wild vegetables that had been hunted, baked, and gathered in turn, there lay houses. Some were of the communal variety, a hasty creation to house far more demons than were originally intended, enough to get them through the winter until individual homes could be built.

But there was also a nearly complete wooden wall.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

While against the mountain itself a smithy was built to completion, if with some less than perfect adaptations such as a heavy rock in place of a metal anvil.

To Sadrahan though, for all the crudity and hasty improvisation, ‘It’s all coming together… a winter rest will do them good.’

But despite some public smiling and waving, a few cheery words of his own adding to the cacophony of noisy talk while the villages blended together, the truth was… he kept turning glances back toward his cavern. Assamo was minding his daughter again while he conducted public matters, but there were ample other children, young demons, pregnant demons, infants and others on the cusp of adulthood, none of whom drew comment by their presence.

‘What if somebody hurts her?’ The question came to mind. And all he wanted was to go back to where Lamashi was no doubt still napping.

He took a haunch of roasted lamb off of the stretched out fur of a black bear and tore into the haunch while he made his way away from the crowds, but while he did his best to surreptitiously remove himself, he kept his eyes out for those who would draw him back in. Klemet was wildly gesticulating with a broken bone in his hand toward an unused portion of the field while Batagan listened with what might have been patience… if not for his ears being down.

Shala was working an iron stewpot with a group of demon women, ready to replace the empty bowls at another table, her child wasn’t far along yet, but the barest bump was beginning to show.

Sarthas had fallen into a vigorous debate with the newest arrivals about something… and Sadrahan’s pace picked up to carry himself away before he could be called on to offer an opinion. Zwei was still a bandaged mess, but made the best of it with his good arm, with a human woman acting as an attendant to provide him with food and bread until he could move properly again.

‘Did I go too far with him?’ Sadrahan wondered, and then recalled the way his daughter cried. ‘No, I was too forgiving.’ He gave himself a nod of approval at his own thought, and continued his quiet retreat.

Marcu took his food straight back to his forge, but he was closely followed by a mix of humans and demons who looked at him as if they were mere children and he was a wise and revered teacher. A half a dozen between them, it wasn’t hard to work out their goal. ‘Somehow the rumor went up that I held smiths to be of high status… oh well, we certainly need them, so there’s no need to challenge the story now.’ Sadrahan considered that while he rounded a small outcrop of rocks, he couldn’t completely hide from view when he flew to the entrance.

The various types of glowing moss cast his shadows over the stone path all the way to the hidden lake of what had effectively become the central place of his rule, his home, his room, his sanctuary, and the only place his daughter knew, and the only place he knew she’d be safe.

And of course, she was not alone. Assamo was napping against a wall while Liln clicked her claws above the broken stone bassinet. Within, Lamashi was giggling with wild abandon and reaching up to catch the clicking claws as if they were prey.

“You’re not at the feast.” Sadrahan said while he strode over to her.

Liln looked directly back at him, and raised her eyes to hold on to his when he came close. “Neither are you, and you’re the Lord.” She said, “If anyone should be there, it’s you. Not me.”

“Fair enough, but there’s only one place I want to be. I’m not much for feasts, I enjoy eating good food, I mean, but who doesn’t? No, I mean… I don’t know what I mean.” Sadrahan said when he picked up the growing infant.

Her claws immediately dug into his chest, but he didn’t wince in the slightest as she began trying to climb up his body like he was her mountain.

“I do. You had your woman, your mate… her mother. And that’s all you wanted.” Liln said and looked over toward her sleeping son, the wounds were packed with fresh moss, but less than before, he was healing with the rapidity that only the young truly enjoyed. “I felt the same way. I wasn’t in love with my mate as you were with yours, but we were a pair and bonded through our son. I preferred them to the whole village.”

“You didn’t come back this way just to tell me that, or to give Assamo a nap or to play clickity claws with Lamashi, did you, Liln?” Sadrahan asked, and she put her back to him.

“How did you do it?” Liln asked at once.

“Do what?” Sadrahan asked, he cocked his head and raised an eyebrow while Lamashi shoved two fingers up his nostrils.

“Break the stone, cut… that,” she gestured to the bassinet he’d fashioned, “and break it. Demons are stronger than humans, but not that strong, and…” She turned around to face him again, “When I first saw you, back when I thought for sure my son and I were done for and you brought us here, you seemed larger than life. But now?”

“Now?” Sadrahan asked, prompting her to go on.

“You seem larger than legend.” She finished.

“I don’t know. Perhaps it was carrying all of you into this place, maybe it is spending time here? Or maybe just being the Demon Lord makes me this way?” Sadrahan shrugged, “I don’t have an answer for that, and I don’t care. As long as I can protect what matters to me, that is the only thing on my mind.”

Liln gave a little wry smile up at him, “I suppose we’re lucky, then. And the rest of us, we’ll just have to catch up with you when spring comes again. And if I may… it was brilliant to use those long homes for the winter.”

“They’re easy to build quickly and keep warm so of course-” Sadrahan began, intending to downplay the decision until Liln cut him off with her silvery, even beautiful laughter. Her little knowing smile stayed fixed while she shook her head in denial and put her hands on her hips.

“You can’t fool me… we’re getting used to how deeply you think about these things, you put so many in those homes because you knew they’d have no choice but to blend together while snowed in. The inevitable will happen, and the tribes of our different villages will disappear. We’ll become one people… I almost missed it until I saw a couple sneaking off that came from two different villages. When winter ends, there may only be one demoness in the mountain who isn’t with child.” Liln chuckled a little when Sadrahan looked at her blank faced.

“Who?” He asked.

“Me. You brilliant idiot.” She filled in what should have been obvious and rolled her eyes.

Sadrahan plucked Lamashi from where she was clawing at his nose and set her back down at his belly to let her start her climb all over again. While she climbed he said, “Assamo will be sleeping for a while, the herbs Shala gave him make him sleep a lot while he heals, you should go enjoy the feast.”

“And leave you all alone here?” Liln replied, “Even if I didn’t see you the way I do, I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m not alone. I have what I need, sharpening her claws on me right now.” Lamashi bit down on his shoulder when she reached it, “...And sharpening her teeth.” He added.

Liln gave a small nod of understanding and turned sideways, she looked at him once more and asked, “Will you do me two small favors at least, before I go?”

“What?” Sadrahan asked, noncommittally.

Liln raised one finger up from her hand and said, “First, at least tell me what you plan on doing when Spring comes again.”

“Prepare everything. Make us untouchable by the humans.” Sadrahan replied at once, and kept it general.

“And second, if you’re set on spending all winter up here… at least let a few of us come see you. A demon alone is not good, a demon alone with only a child, only slightly better. You don’t have to lie with me to call me friend, and I don’t have to lie with you to care that you are well.” Liln insisted and put her hands on her hips, she turned up her nose and stared down its length at the towering Demon Lord, daring him to argue with her.

“I… wouldn’t object to a few… When the snows aren’t too great for you, if you want to join us for a meal, I wouldn’t hate that… I mean… I would like that.” Sadrahan corrected himself before Liln could take offense.

‘At least I can believe the second, but he has to know that even with the newcomers we don’t have enough people to do ‘everything’. Not unless… no he can’t be anticipating more working hands already… he’s always thinking so far ahead…’ Liln’s frustrated admiration ran its course and she bowed her head to the Demon Lord.

“Then I’ll go to the feast for now, then I’ll retrieve my son, go to my home, I will sleep, and I will return when the world is covered in white again… which based on what’s already out there, won’t be long. Till next time, Demon Lord Sadrahan.” Liln said and made her exit.

She was true to her word, returning barely an hour or two later with bowls of stew and extra meat that even the horde outside couldn’t consume, and leaving one son heavier and the cave one demon lighter.

Outside he could hear the beginnings of the post feast blizzard, wind whipping about and snow rumbling as it tumbled over rocks, even inside their place of safety it was obvious that the world outside had no care for living things.

Lamashi however, was oblivious to all that, she wanted only to climb, and so climb she did, over and over, until she started to yawn. Her little fangs bared and a tiny noise came out that still couldn’t even reach the walls to make the smallest echo, she hauled herself up his torso one more time. Her muscles seemingly set on growing with every tug, this time rather than shove her fingers up his nose, she grabbed it while he put his hands beneath her to catch her if she fell.

She grunted and gave one more pull, then took his horns in her little hands and dangled in front of his face, swaying back and forth with a smile on her face as she shouted as loud as she could…

“Da-du!”

And that, the cavern walls shouted back.

-End Book One-