Lamashi was growing quickly, goats’ blood mixed with the water of the mountain’s inner lake was doing her good. Her little legs were building more muscle every day, and the same was true of her arms and back, suggesting she would have strong wings when she finally came into her own. Her dark red skin was well colored and she smiled and laughed often. ‘It would be better if she could have mother’s milk, but we have no nursing mothers who can offer that.’ He thought and closed his eyes to keep the scowl away from his daughter’s vision. ‘How many of our very young died…?’ There was no certainty in that, not yet, but so far except for a few small children and adolescents, he’d recovered no others, no babies, no infants. The question of whether that was because none escaped, or because none survived? That question haunted his dreams and nightmares. None of those who survived the mine would speak of it.

When Lamashi opened her mouth with a big smile, the first hint of sharp teeth was evident. “Soon you will be ready for meat. I hope you like goats and bears.” He said to her, and she giggled a little, cradled in his palm as he drew away the skin filled with her daily meal. He rocked her back and forth in silence before returning her to her stone cradle when she began to drift off, and then left her for the exit again.

When he emerged he could see the sun was starting to set on the horizon, its bright yellow glow becoming a steady fading orange and shadows creeping quickly in from the distance and racing toward his mountain stronghold. Down below, he could hear the common wails of those he’d saved who were mourning the dead. A few from other villages added their voices to Liln’s own.

Sadrahan almost went down himself to join them, even taking one step toward the edge, ready to soar down, but thought better of it. ‘I have no right to share in her sorrow. I returned only a corpse.’ He contemplated that and then launched himself into the air, beating his wings with practiced ease, he ascended to the sky and began the search for the place that held his people captive.

The air was growing cooler around him and down below, the leaves were starting to turn, ‘I should be harvesting my own crops now, readying myself for winter in my house. Lamash should be cooking up something hot, and we should be thinking about the Festival of Flames.’ Thoughts like that ran wild through Sadrahan’s mind until they steadied themselves into a progression of dreams and plans over the span of hours until the dying light left the world shrouded in darkness.

The two moons and all their stars were covered by the clouds, rendering him invisible in the darkness. It was no true barrier to his own eyes, and that was why he could see it. ‘My… village? My village is alive?!’ He wanted to shout for joy, a smile spread out wide over his face and he halted his flight to hover in place, savoring the sight of cookfires… until he caught sight of someone emerging from a surviving home. ‘Human?!’ No horns, no wings, paler skin closer to the shade of a peach. ‘Human…’ He thought again and looked around the village further, his own home was mostly gone, but it was obviously partially rebuilt, the roof was new and several of the logs were replaced. The fields were harvested and there were some of the four legged animals the humans favored, ‘horses’ set outside. ‘I planted those crops… I built that house… they took it all from us…’ Sadrahan’s fury grew by the second.

Every fiber of his being demanded that he swoop down and snatch the wayward figure walking through the darkness. But he didn’t. A low growl rose in his throat, and he soared on, racing toward the direction of the human village he once called neighbors, his blood ran hot in his veins, uncooled by the steady falling temperature, he followed the vague and ill maintained paths used by the seasonal pass of merchants who roamed from village to village, peddling in small goods or bringing travelers along, guiding them to places they might start new lives.

He avoided the familiar place of humans, banking his flight so that he would never look over the hill where it lay, and instead searching the far horizon for something else.

‘Forts. That will tell me I’m close.’ Sadrahan reminded himself, the racing blood in his body left him feeling tense as a freshly startled cat, his claws twitch, and for a time he wondered, ‘Did I miss them?’ But when he began to truly fear he had, he saw it.

‘No homes?’ He wondered at first, the wall was obvious, but as he went above it, there was nothing but a collection of buildings that didn’t look at all like any home he’d ever seen. The walls were wooden and spiked at the top, and on the interior of the walls were long wooden raised paths over which humans walked and stood looking out. The buildings themselves were round with a high point at the center and while clearly wood, were not the usual stacked logs, rather the wood had been cut into thin strips that were hammered together. ‘Strange.’ He thought, but went on watching the way the humans moved. Atop a number of poles, a ‘banner’ flapped in the wind, a banner he knew from description if not by experience. A red banner with a long pale serpent with many eyes painted along its body.

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They looked outward, walking in slow back and forth fashions holding long spears or bows, with torches along the walls to provide them with light and to keep from being crept up on.

After he’d watched them for several minutes in which his wrath and curiosity ran together like stirring wind in a rising storm, he leveled off and flew away, ‘I’m close, I must be close if the fort is there… and a small mountain can’t be hard to find.’ He reassured himself, and flew on, scanning the horizon every second until at long last…

‘There it is.’ How long it took to find it, he wasn’t sure, but it felt like an age, and there truly was a hole in the ground. A deep gash in the world like an open wound, surrounded by walls twice Sadrahan’s own height, made of thick logs cut to a sharp point, the lines of which connected to a gray mountainside.

Down below, there was a constant, steady tapping and scraping noise, ‘Cutting rocks for the humans…’ Sadrahan realized and hovered in place, watching the human guards yawn and trudge about. They had no eyes on the sky, nor even really below, instead they were mostly just leaning on their spears and standing by their torches. ‘They don’t think they’re in any danger.’ He realized, his claws itched at his sides as he searched the area for something he could use. Something he could do.

The camp ‘outside’ the wall was notable, with more of the long buildings of wood, but a few of stone. Tents lay scattered here and there, along with what he recognized as granaries to store food. ‘I see, I see.’ Sadrahan told himself and searched with his eyes from up above.

That was when he saw it. “Barrels.” If the humans were anything like what he remembered, those barrels held only one thing. And even better, there was nothing and no one near them.

Sadrahan drew his arms across his chest so that each hand grabbed the opposite shoulder and then closed his wings around them making himself as aerodynamic as possible, and dropped like a stone. Wind raced past his body, roaring in his ears until he was close and then he popped his wings out, caught the gust, and lurched to a sudden slow fall that felt like a punch in the gut for a moment. He popped the top off of a brown wooden barrel and the smell of alcohol hit him full in the face.

He yanked a loose cloth free from where it hung and tore it into strips, his sharp ears flicking about, searching for any approaching noise and finding none, he stuffed the strips of cloth into the alcohol and then shot up into the sky again. From far above, he began to tilt the barrel over, the buildings were wood and used pitch and straw to seal them against the elements. From building to building, he poured it to splash down on the rooftops, the barrel growing lighter by the moment until there was nothing within but the limp, alcohol soaked strips he’d stuffed into place.

‘Now… I just need…’ He searched the area for fire, a stray torch, spark stones, anything.

It proved easier to find than he thought, in the midnight hour the area used for cooking was filled with glowing embers, and nobody awake was near. He descended to the world again, dangling strip after strip of alcohol soaked clothing from the rooftops of darkened buildings in areas out of view of any passerby, and from there it was to the spits and dead cookfires of sleeping humans. His demonic flesh was heavily resistant to fire, and so after dropping the barrel at his feet, he thrust his hands into the coals and raced away to the backs of the long wooden buildings.

He touched the embers to the soaked cloths which caught like candle wicks, the flames sprang to life, in rapid succession one after the other, building to building, and after one brief moment to crouch, Sadrahan shot up into the sky to watch.

The cloth wicks ignited the rooftops into a conflagration that itself ignited consternation, roaring like a storm of flame, the screams of men went mad beneath his wings.

“Fire! Fire! Fire! Get the water! Form a bucket brigade!” The shouts went wild and humans ran to and fro without any discernible aim or pattern, like ants whose nest was kicked over and had no idea what was to blame.

“See how you like it.” Sadrahan snarled, and as the fortification turned its attention to containing the blaze, he went over to the now abandoned deep gash in the world, and dropped again like a stone.

He landed in a kneeling position beside another pair of his kind, one known to him, one not. “Sarilith, and stranger, there is no time. Grab on to me if you want to survive.” He said to the pair of demon women, Sarilith was the first to respond, wrapping an arm around his neck, while the stranger, another young demon woman riddled with marks of cruelty, grabbed his other side the same way a half an instant later.

He shot up into the air, dragging them after him just as others stared at the spot he’d been only moments before, confusion was written on their faces, but he gave them no chance for questions.

Sadrahan’s now powerful wings bore the weight of the underfed pair with practiced ease, crested the ground level, and carried them into the sky and out of the fort.

They remained silent, staring at him and each other as if to ask, ‘Is this a dream? Have I finally gone mad?’

But they said nothing until he finally landed out of view of the fort. “You survived?” Sarilith asked. He covered each of their lips with his fingers before whispering…

“Shhhh. Start toward the mountain where the rubies came from. My home is there. Do not wait for me.” Sadrahan told the pair and put his back to them.

“Where are you going?” Sarilith whispered in defiance of his instruction to be silent.

He looked over his shoulder and went to a crouch, “Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to go get more.”

His powerful legs tensed, and then he shot into the air while they watched in disbelief as he left them behind.

“You know him?” Sarilith’s companion asked her, “Was he your chief or something?”

Sarilith responded, her black eyes following the distant dot of her former neighbor as he went down out of sight again, “He was not our chief, our chief is dead… and him, I know him, but I never knew him well enough to imagine this…”