Iktchi-Chi stiffened, all contentment banished in an instant. And with that banishment, the realization that she hadn’t yet seen to her wing. She did that now. Thanks to the twin full moons of the previous night, she had mana enough and more to heal the broken bones.

Now another problem. She withdrew the small knife from her belt. It represented the only weapon she possessed in this world. She’d been forced to leave her Hellish Glaive in the armory on Tarr when she’d been given the assignment to learn about the hero. She had one other weapon, but it was Earthian, and it wouldn’t do to test it in battle only to find that it didn’t work.

She had her magic, of course. She was, after all, a level fifty-six red mage. Unfortunately, she was also an escaped slave of the dread lord of Tarr, and bound by the accursed collar fused around her neck. Any use of higher order magic outside the boundaries of the control monitor would result in considerable pain, even unto death should she attempt anything too powerful. And that in addition to its other debuffs.

Taking a firmer grip on the knife, she crouched and thrust herself into the air.

It was a farm, or had been. Set beside a dirt track that ran north/south on the far side of the central yard. The fields were trampled and fouled, seemingly for the sake of it.

The remains of half a dozen cows lay sprawled in a fenced area beside a half-burned barn, hide and flesh torn from them in patterns attesting to their having been alive and struggling as they’d been eaten at. Not eaten, of course. That wasn’t the way of goblins. They never finished a carcass unless they were starving, preferring instead the bitterness of terrified and living prey.

The house had been set alight as well, but had burned no better than the barn. That was the way of goblins. Haphazard in every respect.

Of the goblins themselves, there was no sign. Going by the conditions of the carcasses and the buildings, they’d long since quit the scene. Days ago. Possibly as much as a week.

Chi landed in the center of the yard, already sure of what she’d find. She sidled up to the farmhouse door, which hung askew on one leather hinge. Inside... inside, she found what she’d expected to find.

Humans, they were. A man, a woman, and three children of varying ages. Impossible to tell whether boys or girls after the goblins had been at them. There was much less left of them than of the cattle. Goblins were very fond of human meat.

She’d done worse in her time. Far worse. Had been made to do worse by her foul master. It hadn’t been like she’d had a choice, had it? Had she not followed commands on her own, the demon lord would carry them out with her body as she struggled helplessly within it.

Even death had been no escape from following orders — the demon lord would not allow it. Such was the power of the collar.

These thoughts ran through her head as she stood in the center of the farmhouse’s main room staring at the remains.

Looking around, she examined the room. More than a house, this was. She could see. It had been a home. She made her way through the broken furniture and scattered debris to the stone mantle —the heart stone of the dwelling— and laid her head against its surface. Houses were clusters of stone and wood. Homes were something more.

She mumbled an intricate spell in a soft voice. A calling to the soul in all things. She’d no idea at first whether she’d get an answer.

Within her mind at first, and then manifesting in ethereal form without, she beheld the farmhouse as it had once been. The lumber of its walls raw and fresh. The stone nearly white, unmarred by the smoke of cooking or warming fires. Its floors not yet worn smooth by the footsteps of its family.

A man and a woman entered through the front door, arms about one another, beaming with happiness. The man turned to the woman and spread his arms, saying something the memory of the home couldn’t convey. The woman brushed an open palm across her man’s cheek and moved to the mantle.

The scene changed. The walls grew darker with age. The couple more work-hardened. A cradle appeared, and a child. Then another. And another.

Tears were squeezing from Chi’s eyes as these memories played across the desolation of the current tableau. The home couldn’t truly communicate. It could only show the memories that had given it birth.

It took some time before the morning of the attack manifested. Goblins, alright. At least a dozen, it was difficult to tell with the way they surged about, cambering over one another in their haste to destroy and devour.

She gave special attention to the larger creature that seemed to lead them. Something like an orc, but not altogether the same. Dark, nearly black skin and slitted eyes. It was a creature of darkness and the pits. Even with such a translucent portrayal, she could see that.

The memories merged with the scene before her, and at last, the image of her entering through the broken door.

She remained beside the hearth for awhile, sniffling as she mourned a family of another species whom she’d never known. Mourning at the same time all of those other innocent families she’d had a hand in the slaughter of.

At last, she lifted her head, raised her chin. Yes, slaughter. She’d done that in plenty. But something was different now. Now, she was free. Now her actions were her own.

“I will not allow this to this stand,” she told the home. “I will see to the murderers, and then I will see to your family.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Ice was a much more difficult element for Chi to wield than fire, but she was moderately proficient. Still, she was gagging from the constriction of the collar by the time she’d frozen the last body. She sagged to her knees, bracing herself against the floor on outstretched palms as she waited desperately for the collar to loosen sufficiently for her to breathe again.

“Do you know which way they went?” she gasped as she made her way to the broken door.

The home wasn’t much help. It could only remember, and that, only what it had seen. A vague shadow of movement showed to the north, almost no definition to it. Still, it was a start.

First things first, though. Though it was foul, she cut a few slices clear of one of the dead cows, well clear of any goblin bites. Holding the meat in both hands, she concentrated, bringing forth a searing flame. Well done was the only way you survived goblin leavings, even if you were a devil.

The well was fouled, so she’d do without water for now. Perhaps when she returned she’d find a way to clear it.

Iktchi-Chi flew the better part of the day in wide loops. She knew roughly the pace goblins could make overland, always assuming they were the brand she was familiar with or close to it. With a bird’s eye view of the countryside, she was watching for blotches of destruction. More ruined farms. Savaged animals.

She struck them near to evening. There were fifteen of them and that larger creature, scuttling along in an unruly mob. Climbing higher, she cast a wider eye on the area. She didn’t see much of anything. Much. Contrary to her first day, however, she saw several ruins. Glaring down at the noxious green rabble, she snarled. They’d been busy little vermin.

* * *

Ungroth Ur, the drugand, was in a foul mood. Fouler even than was his norm. the grublings were unruly to the point of being nearly useless. They created such havoc wherever they went that any sort of secrecy was impossible. Rather than sowing the seeds of the grand lieutenant’s plan, they were far more likely alerting the locals to it.

His scowl deepened as a shadow fell over him, momentarily blocking the sun. He looked up to behold a flying humanoid creature he recognized instantly as a demon. What in the northern wastes was a demon doing out here? Was it mad?

The demon circled twice more and landed fifty or so paces before Ungroth Ur. It was quite small, Ur noticed. Female. A devil of some sort, he thought. Had it been sent to convey a message?

* * *

Iktchi-Chi slammed into the ground hard, taking the impact with her knees, and going into a deep crouch, braced on one hand. One look at the naked hatred in her face had the drugand reaching for its jagged backed sword.

Still crouching, she thrust a clawed hand towards the creature. “Deep within the withered center of your putrid soul,” she hissed out in a guttural language never before heard on this world. “BURN!”

Ungroth Ur stiffened, surging rigidly upright and dropping his half drawn sword. His eyes went wide, his mouth gaped. His whole body began to swell, his skin blacken and crack. His heart exploded within his chest, and he crumpled to the ground, his body smoldering.

The goblins broke, squealing, in all directions, mad with terror, so fast as their spindly legs would carry them.

Iktchi-Chi dropped to a knee, the one hand still holding her upright, the other scrabbling at the constricting collar that was suddenly choking the life out of her. After a moment, she collapsed, both hands now at her throat as she writhed in the grass.

It took three full minutes before the collar loosened sufficiently that she could drag in a tortured breath. Another five before she could stand again. But the instant she had the strength, she surged to her feet and snatched up the dead creature’s sword, leaping into the air as her fingers closed around its grip.

Straight up she went, not yet quite steady, but driven by her hatred. From several hundreds of feet up, she was able to spy out the trails of the fleeing goblins in the tall grass. She tracked and dove on them one by one, slashing with the jagged backed sword showing neither pause nor mercy. Each and every one.

Some time after dusk, exhausted and blood soaked, she dragged the last of the bodies to the place where she’d killed their leader.

Ravenous, she drew her knife and slashed at their chests, gouging out their cooling hearts and tearing at them with sharp teeth. She hated goblin meat. It was as foul as the creatures it came from. But it, and most particularly the heart, was filled with both nutrients and mana.

Rooting through the corpses, she found no cores. Alright, she thought. Maybe this is one of those worlds. The annoying ones with extra steps. That posed a problem. While the release spell was neither high level nor particularly difficult, it was somewhat fussy. And while her bare hands were good enough for gross attacks such as soul burn, release wanted a focus of some sort. Such as her wand, for instance. Wherever it was. She’d lost it somewhere between being strapped to the bus and landing in that tree.

Sighing, she did the next best thing and started going through their pouches. And hit upon a stroke of luck. The big, orclike thing had somewhere acquired a smattering of jewelry, some of it quite nice. Among these treasures, she found a pair of silver rings with a familiar flavor.

Grinning impishly, she clutched them tight and took wing for the nearest copse of trees. Willow, she wanted, but the best she could do was cherry. On the other hand, the tree was bearing fruit. She stuffed her face while she selected a nice branch with a few leaves and sliced it free with her knife.

Back at the bodies, she quickly shaped the branch into a serviceable wand, running a soft flame along its length to both harden it and burn the leaves into the surface.

Once she had the shape she wanted, she slid both silver rings over the narrower end, muttering a quick spell to alter them just enough to hold to the wood. She held the wand out to admire it. The rings were pressed against each other, and she ran her fingers softly along the junction, smiling.

Okay, she thought. Now what?

She found a simple necklace, although it probably wasn’t high quality silver and bore no gems. Another ring, this one chunkier and with a smoothed shard of agate. A brooch, a smattering of coins, and a freshwater pearl.

One of the goblins had acquired a tangled mess of wire that had probably once held some sort of fancy trinket together. That was the final component she’d need.

By morning, with a few winks of sleep through the night, she’d fashioned for herself a serviceable wand. Oh, nowhere near so good as her lost one, with its ancient willow shaft, emeralds and golden braided wire, but functional enough for her current needs.

She consumed the last three goblin hearts, fighting back the gorge rising in her throat as she struggled to swallow. She really had grown spoiled by the wonderfully cooked food on earth during her stay.

Taking a deep breath, Chi grabbed one of the corpses, dragged it clear of the pile, and tried a release spell. Nothing happened. She tried another. Still nothing, and now she was starting to feel grumpy.

A third and a fourth attempt netted similar lack of result, and a fifth. But the sixth try was different. Midway through the sixth incantation, a soft, golden glow enveloped the body, and the corporeal form dissolved into a drifting cloud of glittering sparks.

“There we go,” she sighed. “I wonder if the whole system here is type seven or if it’s a mix?”

On the ground where the body had been lay a scattering of five silver coins and a muddy green chunk of bloodstone.