Sadrahan watched them disappear behind him, showing his back to the distant human settlements, he took a deep breath. “Great, Sadrahan, great. You wanted a crack at the humans, didn’t you?” He held out his claws at waist level with his palms up and curled them inward several times. The broken bones seemed to have healed completely. The knuckles cracked with comfortable familiarity, their steady snap repeated with each curl of his fingers.

‘Strange, I’ve always been pretty strong, but somehow it feels different.’ Sadrahan thought, then set it aside with another dismissive notion, ‘I’ve been carrying people back and forth for a while now, why shouldn’t I get stronger?’ He asked himself, and then stepped aside into the woods, ‘A rest, a short rest…’ Sadrahan yawned and set his back against the nearest tree, the trunk was thicker, but the bark felt almost soft when he set his body against it, closed his eyes, and wondered, ‘When was the last time I really slept?’ He finally slipped into unconsciousness and dreams of a vanished life.

When he awoke, the sun was past rising and already high in the sky, the canopy of dying leaves cast their shadows over his red flesh, mottling him in the colors of blood and night despite the hour. Sadrahan rose to his feet and stretched his limbs with a low, predatory growl as his memory returned to him and the fog of heavy sleep lifted from his mind. ‘I did say I would think of something. And I do have my advantages. But how many will they send?’

The more he thought, the more Sadrahan realized, ‘I know so little, too little. I haven’t seen one of those ‘city’ things. How did Midas put it? A hundred villages gathered together? And he probably meant ‘human’ villages, which are larger than ours.’ That now familiar chill that warned him of danger, ran up and down his spine. ‘That fort had enough men in it for at least a large village, and I saw no women or children.’

That had some unpleasant implications on its own.

Implications that hung over his head like a dark cloud while he waited for the possible human pursuers and the coming of another night. He crouched well back from the open grassland, hidden deep within the trees he could only see so much. His view was obscured by a sea of bushes and trees that gave him only finger widths to see through, the breeze caused the branches and leaves to dance back and forth, giving him sometimes fleeting glimpses of the path of pursuit, but it also served to hide him from anyone’s eyes. ‘I wasn’t serious before, but maybe it ‘is’ like hunting deer, take them unawares, be unseen.’ It was a hopeful thought that calmed his heart.

So he remained ready, standing and stretching periodically, relieving himself nearby when he needed to, and waiting for an uncertain threat to appear. ‘It would be better if there were no one… gods of our fathers, I’m begging you, please let this boredom continue.’ He cast his eyes skyward when he prayed, though he was never especially devout, participating in festivals more for the fun than for any faith that they would really call down any divine favor, but now he meant what he asked for… mostly.

His claws did not agree with his anxiety, they tensed and twitched, the memory of those destitute and starving, the recollection of Liln’s words about what was done to their smallest and weakest numbers… ‘I want to make them suffer.’ A sullen anger was a steady undercurrent to his more rational mind, and it held its own against the tide of reason as the hours slipped past and the sun made its way across the sky until it began to make its final descent on the far horizon…

And he heard the first indications of humans.

“This way!” A distant voice shouted, and a village boy crested the hill, he was holding leashes secured to a pair of dogs with long gray fur and floppy ears, their steady high pitched yelp promised that they were on the trail.

Behind the jogging peasant came a pair of horses ridden by metal clad men, and behind them, a line of metal and leather clad warriors on foot. Their clothing was studded with metal bits, rather than the chain shirts Sadrahan had seen before. ‘Lighter, faster, and I suppose they’re not really expecting starving demons to put up much of a fight.’ The armored men on foot were ten in number, plus two on horseback and a villager with his two dogs. ‘Two of the humans have bows, the rest spears except for the men on horses… those things they use must be ‘swords’.’ He realized when he saw the long flat metal they held in their hands to gesture the way forward.

‘Thirteen, plus dogs, so I’m outnumbered. I knew that was a possibility. What did the heroes do in those stories I loved when I was little?’ Sadrahan scratched his horn as he tried to recall half forgotten tales from decades before, ‘Oh yes, Gorgoron the Strong stepped in front of his enemies and charged them with such fury that they tucked tail and ran…’ He shook his head, dancing his black hair behind him, ‘No, I won’t be doing that. That would probably just get me an arrow in my chest and a spear in my liver.’

‘Ambush then.’ He settled… again, on his previous decision, still wondering, ‘Is this the right choice? If I’d just gone back and forth I could have gotten a few more at least… What if I lose? What if I fail? Then everyone there is going to die or be dragged back to work until they do.’

It turned his heart to ice to think of it, ‘There’s no time for regret now, don’t be stupid, you made the choice, now live with it if you can.’ He told himself. Every fiber of his being told him to spring up, charge, and just get it over with. The tension in his body pulled him tight, like the stringed instruments used by people without claws.

And still Sadrahan waited while darkness enveloped the world, the racing shadow swept the land, and the clouds that covered the world still, began to rumble with the ominous promise of a hard rain ahead.

Minutes came and minutes went as the little party of humans went past where Sadrahan lay hidden and darkness deepened, and only when they were well ahead did he emerge from his hiding place, far at their backs, spread his wings, and launch himself to fly behind them.

The horses trotted forward and the dogs followed the steady scent, tugging the leash taut, ‘They’ll catch up in a few hours, depending on whether or not the others stopped to rest.’ Sadrahan was guessing, and he knew it, but he wanted to believe that chance existed even if he couldn’t be sure, and his heart froze every time they crested another hill, fearing that he might see the rescuees huddled helplessly within sight of the human pursuers before the deepest dark of night gave him the cover he needed.

Luck however, held, and the riders were pushing their followers hard. “Come on! We’ve got to be close! If we just catch up then we can all go back before sunrise!” A horseman snapped, seemingly oblivious to the weariness of those who had to carry themselves rather than be carried by another.

And the line began to stretch out.

The rumbling picked up, and Sadrahan felt the first drops of rain on his back.

He beat his wings harder, faster, his speed picked up.

A soldier stopped at the rear, his gloved fingers fumbling for a waterskin at his side, he was raising it to his lips and started to drink.

Sadrahan bit his own tongue to keep himself from shouting anything as he soared in, his hand came out, and the waterskin dropped out of the human’s hand to land with a soft thud into the ground, the noise buried under the first crack of lightning and a roll of thunder.

The human’s throat was soft in Sadrahan’s grip, his demon wings carried him high into the sky on sheer momentum, the way the weight of a thresher carried itself back and forth in his hand in the life the humans stole from him.

The human’s eyes bulged first with confusion, then with shock when he saw the red face of the demon. The human’s legs kicked and his hands flailed, pulling at tight fingers that choked the life out of him and stole his cry of alarm.

Sadrahan growled, carrying his prey up into the cover of the clouds, and then he said, “Goodbye.” The human’s expression of terror was proof of his understanding, and he was no longer trying to free himself, but instead was grasping at Sadrahan’s body, his hands caught the shirt, and the sound of ripping fabric followed as the human fell, his coughs and hacks kept screams at bay as he tumbled end over end, grabbing at nothing in the air, still clinging to the ripped shirt up until the moment he landed on the ground with a dull thud.

“That’s one human down. Twelve to go.” Sadrahan said to himself and raced after the column, the rain was coming down harder, adding its own steady roar, and threatening to drown the ground below. The pace of the humans slowed as the soft ground became soaked and turned to mud beneath their feet.

The line became more stretched out, and Sadrahan swept in at the back of the pack, two humans paused, struggling in the muck, letting their spears fall to splatter in the mess. Their cursing went unheeded by their comrades who slumped over, pulling hoods over their heads to offer some protection from the rain.

‘Two?’ It was a gamble, Sadrahan considered, they were heavier than a small demon, thanks to their leather and metal clothing, but they weren’t wearing full metal shirts. ‘I can manage.’ He told himself with confidence that was as much hope as knowledge. He nodded, granting himself permission, and swept in from behind them just as their comrades crested a low hill that took the front out of sight of the rear.

His hands closed around the two from the backs of their necks, and taking no chances, he closed his claws into their throats. The flesh gave in easier than he expected it to, and the warmth of their blood ran out over his fingers and spurted onto the grass. The pouring rain diluted the thick red fluid quickly and swept it away down the hill to vanish out of sight, but there was plenty more coming when their grasping fingers came up to pull his hands away.

They spasmed and kicked as he picked them up, and launched himself skyward, abandoning their spears and carrying them out of sight in case anyone came back for them. ‘I doubt they will, that’s a tired lot. Tired prey is always easier to kill.’ He considered as he carried them back to where the first human fell, and dropped their corpses over that of their late comrade.

‘Three down. Ten remaining.’ Sadrahan counted, then spun around in the air and went after the party again.

The remainder of the party continued to stretch out, and Sadrahan made it a death sentence to pause to drink or to stop to relieve one’s self. Until there remained only the two archers, horsemen, and the peasant with his dogs.

Regardless of his willingness to wait however, time stretched out for an hour at least with no more chances to ambush an isolated man, as the two archers seemed to be made of sterner stuff and kept beside the horses and just behind the peasant.

Sadrahan’s pulse throbbed as his impatience grew. ‘Damn them.’ Sadrahan thought, and took up two dropped spears from his previous slayings before chasing the remaining quintet down again, circling far around them in the dark so that they would have to pass him by.

The rainstorm darkened the already inky black, and from a hidden place in the shadows of the trees, Sadrahan vaguely heard a clipped exchange. “Too dark! We could… pass them and not see.” A horseman shouted to his comrade and pointed behind them and finally saw that their party was entirely gone.

“See?! Slowed down! Wet… heavy… wait for them!” It wasn’t hard to put it together, and for several long minutes the peasant, the horsemen, and the archers on foot waited and watched the last little hill they’d crested, waiting for someone to come over it.

But no one did. “Lazy! Go get them!” The horseman shouted and smacked the flat of his blade against the arm of one of the archers, “Tell them… Up”

‘As if the dead are ever in a hurry.’ Sadrahan thought with a contented snarl, watching the archer from within the line of trees. ‘If he goes down there, I can add one more to the total…’

But Sadrahan’s luck didn’t hold, the archer stopped at the top of the hill and began to shout, his hands held up to his cheeks, he bellowed, “Hurry up! We’re going to take a break!”

There was no answer.

There never would be.

The archer stood waiting for a response, even turning his head and cupping a hand against his ear.

A flash of lightning split the sky behind them, briefly turning night into day, and the archer finally saw the truth.

He was shouting at nothing, he whirled around where he stood and began running at a desperate sprint toward his comrades. “They’re gone!” He was pointing back the way they’d come as he ran, “They’re gone! There’s no one there!”

Sadrahan inched closer to hear them better, the rider’s alarm however, was loud even against the driving rain, “What do you mean gone?!” The rider bellowed.

“I mean there’s no one there, sir! No one! I saw for myself!” The archer shouted up at the horseman, who wheeled his mount about to face the way they’d come.

“What nonsense!” The horseman snapped and trotted his horse back to the hill, and waited. Tentative eyes went toward him while the peasant crouched and tended to the dogs.

“It’s true!” The archer shouted his plea to be believed, and as he took tentative steps toward the waiting horseman, “See for yourselves!” He exclaimed and repeatedly stabbed his pointer finger back to the rear, urging them on until the warriors at least, chose to do as he said and left the peasant to do as they were bade.

Sadrahan hefted his stolen spear, and as the four argued and waited for the darkness to lift with a lightning strike, their shouting and gesticulating toward the way they’d come, captivating them all, Sadrahan threw.

“They’re just slow! I told you they needed more training!”

“They can’t all be that slow!”

“Then go get them yourself if you’re so sure!” One horseman shouted to the other.

“Fine!” His companion yelled back, and began to ride down the hill.

Sadrahan rose into the air, ‘The trick is… mostly up, now.’ He acknowledged as the rider reached the base of the hill and his companions turned away.

Sadrahan swept down toward the rider, coming from high and behind, he said nothing, shouted nothing, as he drove the spear through the man’s back, it came out the other side, exploding through his chest in a spray of blood before it embedded itself into the horse’s back.

The horse screamed, fell, and kicked in pain as the corpse was pinned to it, and Sadrahan let go and took off again, leaving the dying to their fates in the rain and in the mud.

‘That’s ten now.’ Sadrahan counted when he saw the surviving three shouting at each other over the body of the villager with the first spear embedded in the unfortunate.

The dogs lay by the corpse whimpering over him, the spear pierced the village dog handler clear through his chest and toppled him onto his back, dead almost immediately.

The dog pair however, evidently loved their master and whined with sadness, laying down in the rain with their heads pityingly over his belly and chest. A twinge of guilt touched Sadrahan for depriving them of their handler, but it was only a twinge.

“Go get Ita! Call him back up!” The last horseman shouted, but rather than waiting for his orders to be fulfilled, he went with the two archers back to the hill.

A crack of lightning returned and revealed the body of horse and rider at the base of the hill, and without prompting, all three rushed down the slope, forgetting the dogs and the villager, they splashed, slipped, fell, rose, and rushed again down the slope toward the one they counted as a comrade.

Sadrahan beat his wings and hovered at their backs, their shouts barely reaching him.

“The slaves didn’t do this you fool! They didn’t have anyone this big, or anyone with wings! Something else did this!” The horseman dismounted and pulled the spear from the corpse, “It’s one of our own spears!”

“A ghost?!” One archer shouted with alarm, their eyes darting to and fro.

“Ghosts don’t use spears!” The horseman snapped.

Sadrahan beat his wings and headed toward the trio when a moment of inspiration hit. [Cutting Claw] He activated the skill he’d used for chopping wood, and as the trio argued, he came close.

By the time he was seen… It was his claws that the dismounted horseman saw, penetrating the backs of his archer’s necks and mostly severing their heads from their bodies. Still secured by a stretch of ‘lucky’ skin, the two fell with open mouths into the muck with silent screams, dying with the taste of rain water and mud on their tongues as their bodies fell limp and useless to the ground.

The last horseman… no… the last man fell backward in shock, grasping for his sword and proving that he had a warrior’s heart in him with the response, but the slippering mud and shock carried him down into the muck, stumbling over the body of his comrade to splash into the rising puddle.

Sadrahan wasted no time, he brought his claw down and struck the wrist, a scream of pain went up which threatened to drown out the storm, and the human rolled over to grasp at his now handless wrist.

The severed hand retained its gruesome grip over the blade, but neither could help their master on their own.

Sadrahan raised up his foot, and brought it down on the human’s back. Once. Twice. Three times, cracks greeted him with every blow, and as he felt the human lose strength, he kicked the human over so that he was lying face up in the muck.

“Who are you?!” The human screamed. “What are you?!” His yowl of terror went up as he took in the face of the towering red demon.

‘Do I answer him, or kill him like the others…? It might be best if they all just disappeared. But… maybe?’ Sadrahan thought, and placing his foot on the human’s chest, he asked, “Who are you to ask that?!”

“Ita Mal! An officer of Kashasan! And I’m valuable! I’m a cousin to the King!” The human screamed, holding his bleeding stump with his good hand.

At first Sadrahan almost simply raised his foot to stomp the human’s head into the ground and be done with it. But the word ‘valuable’ caught his ear. He bent down and grabbed the human by the throat, his claws digging into the flesh, the human’s choked gasps and kicking legs did nothing to force Sadrahan’s grip to loosen.

“Will they trade you for my kind?” Sadrahan demanded.

“Yes!” The human squealed, his kicking legs scraped against Sadrahan’s body, but he found no purchase, no leverage, and no hope that the choking would stop.

Sadrahan gave him that hope, he released his grip, dropping the wounded human into the muck where he collapsed to his knees. “We go to your place. You give me what is mine. I release you alive.”

“Yes! Yes, they’ll do that for me!” The human gasped and vomited, adding foulness to the red pool into which he’d been dropped.

“Then I will bandage your wound, you will strip, and you will come with me.” Sadrahan commanded with a low rumble in his throat.

“But… who… who do I say you are…” The human asked as he looked up at the looming figure that had wiped out his unit.

‘What did they say about humans… they like titles, and what was their title… yes, Lord, that was it.’ Sadrahan recalled, and as the storm around them began to fade when the clouds finally rained themselves out, he answered, “I am Sadrahan Hamash, the Demon Lord of the Red Mountain.”