Chapter 7 Sala

                Sala was dreaming of a childhood long past. It was a childhood full of both love a fear, of both confusion and support. She was dreaming of her parents and their warm smiles. It warmed her even though she saw that look in their eyes. It was the same look everyone gave her back in Essillo, one of terror, for they knew what potential rested inside her little body. Sala could one day protect their land single-handedly, but she could also destroy them utterly.

                She found herself sitting in a chair in the Zet’ine council chambers of judgment. The chair was in a small cage made from flowing black goop. She sat leaning forward as the cage seemed to grow smaller and smaller. She looked down, the entire floor of the chambers was of crystal-clear glass as strong as iron but for one small section just below her feet. It was a trap door, the only thing preventing her from plummeting to her death. The stands were filled with judging eyes. They were filled with the village folk of Tuk, her hometown. They stared at her, but didn’t say anything except one.

                Matika, a little girl she knew, was only five with long blond hair and wide blue eyes. Her eyes were always captivating to Sala, they had such depth, like the ocean itself. The child’s skin was much too pale, and there was a large gash in her side, just like when Sala had found her.

                “Why? Why did you kill us?” Matika asked.

                Sala looked up and the townsfolk were animated with angry and obscene gestures. They all cried out in wails, both inhuman and soul wrenching. They cursed her for killing them, for not saving them, and for not being fast enough.

                “I didn’t! I couldn’t!” Sala cried out to them, but they did not listen.

                “Sala!” a voice boomed over the accusations.

                She jerked to the source of the voice, but nothing was there, just more faces yelling at her.

                “You have been judged.” The voice said.

                “No…” she cried inwardly.

                “You are guilty of incompetence.”

                “I… I didn’t know.” Sala pleaded with the inanimate voice.

                “You killed them all. May the gods have mercy on your soul.” The voice boomed.

                Sala screamed out that was not at fault. Why was she guilty of her parents’ crimes? But no reply came.

                “Bye bye.” Matika waved.

                The trap door opened, and she fell to a watery grave.

                “You may want to get up now. It is the only time we can escape!” Scath shouted in her head.

                The mad demon was frantic for some reason. Her mind was fuzzy, and the dream in which felt so vivid only moments before, was now fading away. Her chest ached with a deep bruising pain that felt as if she had just been punched.

She cracked open her eyes, and saw only more forest, it seemed that she could never escape the trees which looked so much like a cage. Sala looked down examining her chest and found a long bruise just below her breasts.

                “What happened?” She asked the demon.

                The last thing she remembered was the town, they had come for her and… and then nothing. There were strangers though, right?

                “The town?” she asked.

                “We already went over this.” Scath replied. “Give me control and I will fix everything.”

                “You!”

                Bits of memories flashed in her mind now. He was showing her images of when she… when he had murdered the town, but as always, when he eventually loses control, they fall unconscious. But there was something else, there were others around her who were they?

                “What of those men?” She asked.

                What answered her was a monstrous roar that sent all the birds and forest critters scurrying away in terror filled screaks. There they were, the four men, one giant, a human, dwarf and… something that looked vaguely like the odd elf. It was taller than the giant, with wicked horns protruding from its long crimson hair. He now had a deep red, nearly maroon skin color and two massive wings growing from underneath its cloak. Looking past them, she could just see a large group of men with weapons and people… people in cages. Their attention was on the four men, or to a tree trunk crushed into the side of a cage. Sala could see a few bodies scattered on the ground around where the trunk impacted them.

                The giant let out another war cry and took off towards the bandits. The Dwarf was laughing maniacally as he leaped onto the giant’s leg. He looked like was covered in spikes and it looked like it should be quite uncomfortable for the giant, but as far as Sala could tell, the massive creature did not even notice the dwarf. The human’s hands flickered up and he whipped out two elegant swords from midair. They were not swords you normally see in battle, but long and skinny like that of a noblemen’s sport. He then crossed the two blades and a brilliant yellow light nearly three feet wide beamed out and shot into the giant’s back. When he dropped the beam, the blades were left glowing in the same brilliant light. He then also sprinted towards the bandits. Sala could not see the effects immediately, but she figured it had something to do with the many arrows not hindering the giant in any way.

                The large red demon had an incredible ax made from green flame in his hands. He then bent at the knee and leaped in the air with a hurricane of force from the wings. Rather than flying into the air, he disappeared in a portal of green flame that appeared just above him. At the same instant, another portal opened fifty feet above the largest mass of bandits. He came barreling down in a tornado, crushing a bandit under each foot and exploding in such force that sent the others around him hurdling backwards.

                The giant was only twenty feet away from the nearest cluster of disorganized bandits, when the dwarf released his grip from his leg. The dwarf was sent careening through the air in which he tucked into a ball and went slamming into the surprised outlaws. Sala swore she could hear that cackling laugh over the eruptions of magic, screaming, and death.

                She stood up and moved behind the nearest tree to observe. Who were these men? What happened to her, and whatever it was, had they been watching over her?

                “You can kill them all you know. Just let me have control. Pleeeease?” Scath pleaded.

                She ignored him and his pouting deep in the recesses of her mind. His behavior keeps changing, and it worried Sala, but she always refused to think about it.

                Sala moved closer to watch the combat. It looked like they were in a field for crops that was now destroyed by the bandits and strangers alike. At the far end of it, there stood a sheer stone cliff speckled with plants. A decrepit building, perhaps a long-abandoned farmhouse, was more rubble due to time than anything else, barely stood below the cliff. In the middle of the field nearly a third of the bandits had been killed outright and many more were in no condition to fight, but they were regrouping to put up some form of resistance.

                Mattaeo had been the last to enter combat, but rather than charging into the bewildered bandits, he had placed himself between the bandits and the caged people, including a few women that had been outside a cage at the time of his arrival. There were two bodies by his feet, and he stood there expertly defecting attacks from three others with those elegant swords of his.

 

 

                Mattaeo had seen where his companions were charging for, and he rolled his eyes. the screaming women were what fueled their anger, but rather than moving to their rescue, they let that anger control them. He felt like he was always the one left to do the real thinking in this group, but he had known this before they officially formed their little group of insanity. So, he had moved to protect rather than kill. Mattaeo never wanted to kill, but he was also realistic and knew when people went too far, and he knew these people went too far.

                The sick minded man who was dragging a little girl out of the cage and the second was grinning as he held back the crying mother. Lost in their lust, they did not hear the fighting going on not far from where they stood ruining lives. That was all good for Mattaeo and he charged in and in a flash, severed the first mans hands at the wrist. The little girl was dragged back into her mothers grasp who had also been yanked back by the second man. The result was a domino effect of those three. The first man looked at his wrists now a fountain of red live blood then he turned with eyes of black towards Mattaeo.

                “Black eyes?” Mattaeo asked himself as his blade cut through the man’s throat.

                He turned to the pile of flailing people. Mattaeo stepped in pulling the man out and throwing him to the side of the opened cage. Three of the slaves cowered in the corner of the cage but one brave little boy perked up. The bandit struggled to find his side knife and stand, but when he found it missing, he turned around. The child returned the man back his blade, eight inches of ill quality steel deep into his chest. Mattaeo heard the crunch of bone as the blade went in just above the sternum. The Bandit was not done though and with surprising strength, he grabbed the boy’s dirty black hair and slammed his head into the cage bars. The boy was knocked out cold and something in Mattaeo snapped.

                Memories flashed in Mattaeo’s mind; memories of his own enslavement torn from his family now lost to him forever. He growled, and grabbed the bandit by his hair and back. He then pulled the man back then shoved forward. The handle of his side knife met one of the cages bars and Mattaeo smiled at the terrible sound escaping from the man’s throat. The blade was now protruding from his upper back severing the spine. Mattaeo threw the man to the ground, and to his surprise, he was still breathing, but before he could do anything further, a scream full of pain and satisfaction came and the older woman, probably the girl’s mother by their resemblance, plunged Mattaeo’s own blade he dropped earlier, into the man chest. She swung and swung, sending blood all over Mattaeo and the vengeful mother. She finally paused with deep breaths that turned into sobs. Mattaeo caught her before she fell to her knees and he turned to see the daughter had joined the others cowering the cages.

                “Stay back. If any come from behind, shout for me.” He told the mother.

                He conjured a small blade, and placed it in her hands. Tear filled eyes turned on Mattaeo and with another deep breath, she nodded. With renewed strength, she moved from his arms and stood at the front of the cage. The little boy was beginning to stir, that was good. He reached into his extra dimensional storage space and retrieved a small red vial and handed it to the woman.

                “Give this to the boy.”

                Without waiting for a reply, he spotted three more bandits moving towards him. They must have seen the giant, the demon and an insane dwarf, and figured that he was an easier prey. That was an observation he would be happy to make them regret.

                Mattaeo retrieved his remaining sword and charged the bandits. Two were humans and the third was a Centoid, a short beetle-like creature with three pairs of arms down the length of their carapace. They had no neck, but a dome-like head that could rotate 360 degrees. They had a little mouth covered in sharp mandibles used to tear meat from bones. They were tough to put down but thankfully, not very bright.  

                The three were bearing down on him. Mattaeo held his left sword straight down and behind at a slight angle, where he then lifted his right hand in vertical salute. The others poked fun at him for this sign of respect, and if he were honest with himself, he didn’t know why he did it for men like these, they were not worthy of any respect. This was made more apparent when they just ignored the salute and began to try to beat him down.

                The two men each had a small ax in each hand, while the Centoid held jagged daggers in each of his six hands. Only seconds into the combat, Mattaeo knew that these fools were no match for him. Normally, he would not try and kill them outright, but he then heard the woman cry out.

                “More coming from behind!” she screamed.

                Mattaeo stole a glance back and saw that she was gripping the blade he gave her in a white knuckled grip, and three more men were running up from behind the cages while perhaps another fifty people were following from the far tree line. No, not fifty, more kept pouring out behind them. He shook his head, of course there were more than thirty bandits. For the number of slaves here, they would have needed a small army to handle them. They would have removed the slaves from their bars and forced them to move their own cages, but with nearly a hundred slaves outside their prisons, the bandits would need more hands to deal with them.

                Mattaeo could not play with his food, rather he expertly parried the first humans ax as he swung down and with his other blade, he removed the hand from his body. While the ax fell from the limp hand, he spun and smacked the side of the ax blade with the pummel of his other blade. The ax flew and smacked into the Centoid’s face. It let out its races equivalent of a grunt, and with it distracted, Mattaeo finished his attack by removing the creature’s legs.

                It fell, but caught himself with his many arms. It dropped four of his blades and began to move around him on four arms snapping its two remaining blades at him in quick succession. Mattaeo stepped back, and reached for a small brown sack on his hip. He reached inside while still awkwardly holding his sword and blocking attacks with the other. He pulled out a pinch of sand and cast a spell.

                He threw the sand up, blocked another attack, then leaped up into a growing storm of sand. What began as only a tiny bit of sand, grew into a mini whirlpool ten feet above their heads. As he leaped, Mattaeo’s body dissolved into the sand making the whirlpool grow even larger. The three bandits looked up in confusion, and lowered their guards.

                The sand exploded with such force that the bandits had to cover their eyes and were forced to brace themselves. The bandits opened their eyes and each shouted as they saw Mattaeo standing behind each of them. Not knowing a clone stood behind themselves, each of the Mattaeos lifted a blade and cut the throat of the bandits. Only the Centoid didn’t go down, and with more effort, a clone removed the creature’s head.

                Three versions of Mattaeo looked at each other and nodded. Right before they moved towards the oncoming army, one of the clones shouted out in pain, then exploded out in a puff of sand. They turned to see the headless Centoid still running about swinging his blades around him trying to hit anything. It was only luck that killed one of his clones.

                “What in the…” Mattaeo said to himself.

                “They don’t need their head to survive.” The clone replied.

                “I know that. I know everything you know!” Mattaeo shouted back at himself while watching the flailing insect.

                “I think that I know everything you know, not the other way around.” The clone said to Mattaeo.

                “Semantics.”

 

 

                Cameroon was laughing wildly as he held on tightly to TimToms leg. After the first time they tried this stunt, they had fashioned a leather wrapping to protect him from hurting the giant. Since then, this was his favorite way to enter a battle. Oh, there were other ways that were almost as fun, but to clamp on with dear life, only to let go… now that was living. Cameroon always had a hard time keeping track of whatever he was attacking this way with his heavy spiked helmet blocking his view easily due to all the thrashing about. He felt it was time, he could just hear the shouts coming from in front of them, so he just let go.

                Learning from experience, Cameroon tucked his knees and head into his chest and formed himself into an insane little spiked ball of death. He felt the weightlessness of a free fall for a few seconds and felt a moment of clarity, as if time slowed down. Cameroon always had the same thought at such times. “What the hell am I doing.” Though it was usually filled with more swearing.

                 He felt the soft impacts he recognized as his body slamming and tearing through flesh. There were screams of pain, and he just let out more laughing.

                He rolled to a rest with his head on the ground. This made for an awkward moment before he could get to his feet. During that time, he felt the feeble attacks at his thick armor, and he just shrugged it off. He stood and gathered himself under a barrage of cheap axes and rusted swords, and saw the people surrounding him. He grinned and he lifted his arm, catching a downward stride from a sword. The bandit’s eyes went wide, he was a young man, with a nasty scar on his face. He twisted his hand, snapping the blade in half.

                What followed were screams of pain and horror and the insane laugh from the little dwarf as he ran through the bandits swinging his spiked covered body in any which way. He was nearly impervious to their attacks, and it eventually devolved into him chasing the vile people as they fled.

                “I need to get back in shape.” Cameroon told himself with hands on his knees and beathing heavily.

                “You will not get away with this!” A bandit yelled.

                It was a scrawny woman with weirdly large arms. She held a blade that looked as if it would topple her over if it wasn’t straight up. She stared back at him with black eyes.

                “Black eyes?” he asked himself.

                Cameroon didn’t say anything to the woman, rather he just smiled and ran towards her. Only ten feet away, she realized what he was doing. Cameroon jumped in in the air at her. The bandit woman shouted and fell back on the ground. She screamed out as Cameroon flew with hands and legs out wide landing on her in a sickening belly flop. Her screams went silent, and Cameroon found himself stuck to her unable to pry himself free.

 

 

                “You crazy fool!” TimTom shouted as the dwarf released from his leg.

                He looked up and saw that the little man would be able to handle himself, despite his lack of magic and tiny size, the dwarf was probably one of the hardest people to kill in their group. So, TimTom turned and ran to a collection of six bandits still standing confused, having no idea what to do. That was the issue with groups like this, they took what they wanted from the innocent, but they lacked any discipline. They were bullies, and when someone bigger than them pushed back, they did not know what to do. As he ran towards the little people, they made their decision by breaking up and fleeing in all directions.  

                TimTom growled, he would not let slavers get away, not in this beautiful forest he would one day call his home. They were little people, and with his large stride, he caught up to two of them in only a moment. They screamed and stabbed at him as TimTom lifted each in a hand. Thanks to Mattaeo’s spell of invigoration earlier, the wounds were healing as fast as they were being made. Each of their heads were above his thumbs, but they were just too large for him to get a good grip, and he could feel their bones snapping under his incredible strength.

                With a victorious roar, TimTom slammed the two bandit’s heads together. He then threw the bodies, which rag dolled, into the backs of two others running away. They went down and didn’t get back up.

                TimTom looked over at Cameroon going wild in the middle of a group of bandits, and then Steff appearing from the sky above another. He knew that his anger needed to be funneled to something more supportive. So, TimTom turned towards Mattaeo, who had just lost one of his clones. Further down, he could see a much larger group of bandits charging their way. He needed to make a decision fast, and so he did. They would not be able to take this entire army by themselves.

                TimTom bolted past Mattaeo who was now finishing the Centoid; those things were hard to put down, and up to the slave cages. Even if they went down, he could have destroyed the cages enough so the innocent villagers could not be forced back in so easily. He ran down the line of cages, there were at least thirty of them crammed full of people, and tore off their doors. He was unable to get to them all, but it was the best he could do.

                “Arm yourself!” TimTom shouted at the bewildered people.

                They remained cowering in their cages, so TimTom shouted once more.

                “I will kill you myself if you don’t fight your slavers!”

                He would do no such thing, but he smiled inwardly, and they began to pour out and grab anything they could use as weapons from the fallen bandits. TimTom needed to buy more time, and so he picked up the doors he tore off and began to throw them like disks at the oncoming army. They were far enough away to move from the projectiles, but he did see a few go down unexpectedly, and that made him smile. That smile then made him grimace, killing was a dirty mans work. He thought of this pointedly ignoring that he was the one who started this fight.

               

 

                Steff vision spun as it always did when he was teleported. It was only a few moments before he could refocus, but in combat, that minus well be minutes. So, when he felt himself exiting his portal power and slammed to the ground, he swung his incredibly large ax of green flame in a large arch around him. He could feel the weapon cleave through bodies and weapons alike; simple steel was no match for Demon Flame.

                He shook his head to focus on the people around him, the explosion when landing sent most of the bandits back in heaps of flailing limbs but otherwise unharmed. The few strong enough to withstand the blast, were too busy coving their eyes and holding strong when an ax head nearly four feet long split them in two. One unfortunate was crying out as his reached out for legs no longer attached.

                Steff moved up to finish the one crying out, no need to leave someone suffering, when he noticed the man’s black eyes. Steff stepped back in shock.

                “No. She…” Steff couldn’t finish his thought; he was stuck staring at the man now reaching for him in for aid.

                Steff knelt and grabbed the man by his shirt. He pulled him up to his chest and glared down, eyes of green fire meeting those of void black.

                “Is she back?” Steff asked.

                When he was in his true form, his voice morphed as did his body. Normally an average man’s voice, maybe a little gravelly, was now deep that resonated in one’s bones. But when he leaned down and spoke to the bandit who was now beginning to go limp, his voice changed again. He now spoke with one voice made up of thousands of voices. It gave the bandit chills as the whisper cut through the pain.

                “Your master, she’s returned?”

                The man’s head, which was falling back, shot up with renewed vigor. Steff ignored the regrouping bandits heading his way.

                “She always been here, traitor!” the man spat on Steff’s face.

                Steff looked at the man who slumped once more, unconscious, and nearly dead. He looked up. They were moving on him, and he only had a second to make up his mind. He looked back down at the man he was still holding, and down at his stumps still bleeding out. He held out his palm and a ball of green flame grew in the center, he moved it to the stumps and proceeded to cauterize the man’s stumps. He did not wake up, but he did stir in pain. Steff smelled the boiling blood and heard its sizzle as the flame engulfed what was left of his legs. The Demon Flame extinguished and what was left was healed and unblemished skin.

                Steff lifted the man with one hand and awkwardly pushed him to his own back where he stretched out his wings. With the bandit imprisoned, engulfed by his own wings, Steff was left with his hands free in which his ax grew once more. He was hit with an incredible bout of self-preservation. He knew something now, and he needed to get this man to the Twins, and he would not allow the people baring down at him prevent this from happening.

 

 

                Sala watched the combat ensue; these were no ordinary people. When she had fled Essillo, she learned that only her land had heroes. Here, no one traveled the Wildlands, and the defenses around the city states were so powerful that they didn’t need anyone for that form of defense. Rather, the states warred each other for reasons she did not understand. These four must be working for one of the city states, only ones like them could become so powerful.

                Her opinion changed as the fight went on. Who were these people? And why did they have her? She remembered waking up and seeing them, but that was it, everything went black from there.

                “They are going to hurt you. You should let me free. I’ll protect you. I’ll always protect you.” Scath said.

                “They would have hurt me while I was sleeping.” She told him.

                “Not unless they wanted you awake for it.”

                She knew he would say anything to try and get control, but she would not allow it. She looked down at her golden bracelet. It was slowly turning green with tarnish; it was losing it magical abilities. Thankfully, the demon was unable to touch it when he had control, but when it was completely tapped… then she would be lost forever, only a sac for this evil creature inside her. Not only would he be free with her body, but he would be able to harness her powers also, such devastation was nearly unheard of.

                “No, you can’t.” she told him.

                Sala yelped out in pain as a sharp knife of pain stabbed into her consciousness.

                “Scath! Stop it!”

                He was trying to force his way in. She used to be able to hold him off easier, but it was growing increasingly more difficult.

                “Scaaa…”

                She fell, grasping her head as the pain grew with such intensity that she nearly fell unconscious again. After what felt like hours, but was only a few minutes, the pain disappeared as suddenly as it came. She gasped with relief and needed a few moments before getting back to her feet.

                By the time she was able to gather herself, the tides had turned. The four men were surrounded by bandits. No, those weren’t bandits, they were the ones in the cages, the slaves. It took her a second to realize that nearly half the cage’s doors ripped open, and their occupants stood holding anything they could get their hands on as weapons. They stood in a loose circle as nearly two hundred bandits now surrounded the four men and slaves. Where on earth had so many come from so quickly? They were not there earlier. How long was she recovering from Scath’s mental attack?

                This was her time to get away. But, when Sala turned to move away, she paused. Maybe she was just being suborn because she knew leaving this group was exactly what Scath wanted, but there was something else urging her to act. She looked back. There was a large cliff to their right. On top of that, she could see even more bandits with large ballistae and other heavy weaponry aimed at them. It was quiet and Sala’s ears were ringing.

                A ballista let loose, and she saw it plumet in the center of the innocent slaves. Bodies torn apart from the impact were sent flying in all directions and the noise returned in screams.

                “No!” The giant roared, the shout could be felt, even from where she stood.

                He picked up a door to the cages and threw it at the ballista, but it was too high up and too far. The bandits all laughed as it fell short, and she could feel the fear of the people growing. Sala could see one thing through the chaos, a little girl on her knees. She cried while lying over a body; her mother? She could not tell from there, but in that moment, she saw herself in that child. Someone had once saved her.

                “Don’t let the fear from others keep you from growing. Be the example that changes their minds.”

                Sala had no idea any elves lived in Essillo, but the words of Thetarla Nevermiss came back to her. She had not thought of that time in many years, but it did now, and it was exactly what she needed to hear.

                “Time to run!” Scath yelled at her.

                “No, not anymore.”

                She looked at the golden bracelet again. The magic item protected her from Scath’s touch, but it wasn’t perfect. It also severely limited her power. The further she pushed the limits of the bracelet, the further it degraded. She was fighting an inevitable losing battle; he would eventually gain control. Maybe, just maybe others could help her. They would need to not try and kill her after finding out what she is, but if saving that little girls life cost her everything again, she would be fine with it.

                “Free?”

                “No, Scath.”

                Sala stood up and walked out into the field. Silence grew once more as everyone stared at the lone, strange looking woman walking out on a battlefield. The only noise came from the crying child completely oblivious to what was happening due to her grief.  Sala spoke in the language of the wind spirits.

                “Okay little ones, are you ready?”

                The words were not of a language any other could understand. To them all they heard was the sound of wind whooshing through leaves, the sound of birds flapping in the breeze and the sound of acorns falling to the ground from a heavy gust. It was beautiful and devastating. People feared Wind Speakers. They thought they held incredible power, but in fact, they held no power. Wind Speakers just commanded the powers found nearly everywhere. Millions of the little wind spirits looking like sweeps of liquid air, spun around each other like a school of fish. They shot out and took their spot above each of the bandits, slaves, and four men alike.

                “KILL HER!!!”

Someone from the cliff top screamed at the top of her lungs, but it didn’t matter, the little girl was still crying.

A storm fell on everyone and everything. Sala stood there unaffected, and she continued to walk up to the little girl. Trees were torn from the ground and sent flying with the bandits screaming in the torrent. The empty cages crashed against each other splintering into a thousand pieces. No storm so powerful could ever be produced naturally in this world. The ground itself was torn apart, but each cage with slaves inside, each slave outside and even the bodies of the dead save were each protected by swirling wind spirits. The little creatures would dart faster than the eye could see, snatching any debris from colliding with the one Sala ordered them to protect. They even calmed the air around them, and whispered words of peace to those who found themselves on their knees crying out in fear. They were calmed, and felt protected for the first time since being taken by the bandits.

The storm died.

“Return the land how you found it please.” Sala told the spirits.

They listened.

As the wind died down, the little creatures spun around snatching shards of bark and shreds of grass and even the land itself, which was utterly destroyed by her storm. It was now being rebuilt piece by piece. The trees were put back together, and the dirt returned beneath their feet. The people only now noticed that each of them had been floating while hundreds of feet of the earth beneath their feet had been uplifted into the storm. A wave of leaves and grass floated over everything and everyone turning baren trees and a brown grown into the lush green land it was before.

Sala was on the ground holding the little girl in her hands. It was her mother’s body she was crying over.

“I am sorry little one.”

Sala knew such words would not be able to help with the pain, but she just wanted the little girl to know that she was safe now. Sala rubbed the girl’s dirty brown hair, and whispers consoling words to her. She ignored everyone staring at her, including the four men.

                “Wind Speaker…” they all began to whisper, then it went quiet once more.

                Then a wild laugh broke the silence a crazy one she recognized from earlier.

                “BY THE TWINS! THAT WAS AMAZING!!!” The little dwarf was laughing and ran up to Sala.

                He was about to pat her on the back when she pointedly looked at his spiked gauntlets. He paused then grinned at her.

                Then the crowd began to scream out. Sala flinched waiting for the attack but none came, and when she looked at the crowd, they were crying and on their knees in front of her. Some came to her and touched her long flowing cloak reverently, then they moved away. They… they were not trying to hurt her… for the first time ever, she felt… she felt love from strangers, strangers that knew what she was.

                Sala broke down in an ugly sob and held the little girl with a tight grip. Finally, someone loved her and… and it felt wonderful.