Sadia kept glancing at Oak from the corner of her eye when she thought he was not looking. The willowy girl’s sun-kissed face was still puffy from crying, and she made no effort to keep her black hair away from her eyes.

  It did not take a genius to connect the dots and guess that the young diabolist was far from home. She had the ragged look of a refugee. Her skin had a sickly pallor from lack of food, and the loose-fitting robes on her back showed the signs of wear and tear. The journey to the southern edge of the Hundred Kingdoms from the Muttalib Caliphate was no gentle undertaking. Deserts devoured the weak.

  The girl threw another poorly hidden glance his way. She was terribly skittish and the opposite of stealthy, like the world's clumsiest alleycat.

  Her skittishness did not surprise Oak one bit. He might have been a tad scared as well, if he had been in Sadia’s position at her age. It's not every day you almost hang from the gallows, after all.

  I am pretty far from a knight in shining armor. It is a miracle she hasn’t run away screaming.

  The little diabolist hugged her grandmother’s grimoire to her chest and rubbed her wrists. Oak had cut her bonds, but the angry looking red marks on her arms remained. Like most hurts, those would fade with time. It wasn’t Sadia’s physical condition he was worried about. Based on what he had heard, the girl had just lost her mother.

  There is a hurt that will keep.

  “Thank you. For saving my life.”

  Oak glanced at the girl. “Don’t worry about it.”

  The silence stretched as they crested a small hill. He looked back the way they had come. The day was bright and you could easily see the village from here. A destitute gathering of houses and hovels, surrounded by fields in all directions. If the place had a name, none of the residents had mentioned it to Oak, and he had not asked.

  It was one of those places. Insular. Suffocating. Filled with people who had never traveled even twenty miles from the place of their birth and had no intention to ever do so. A hive of small minds and righteousness.

  Sadia blew a lock of hair away from her mouth and bit her lip. There was a question burning inside the girl, but Oak did not prod her. In his experience, it was better to let people get the words out by themselves.

  “Would you kill them? If they had killed your mother?” Sadia asked in a raspy voice. The girl squeezed her black book with a white-knuckled grip, thin arms shaking with emotion.

  “Me? Undoubtedly,” Oak replied. “I would kill the bastards, burn the village, and salt the ashes.”

  “I figured. Don’t take this the wrong way, mister, but you look like it,” Sadia said. “Can we go back and do that?”

  A patch of blue flowers with long, thin stems grew next to the footpath. Oak knelt down to look at them. After the darkness of Ma’aseh Merkavah, the existence of flowers felt like a miracle. Something beautiful, just growing out of the ground, because it could. He wanted to pluck one and take it with him, so he could marvel at it as he walked, but he stifled the impulse.

  Killing a flower so you could marvel at its corpse just made the world uglier.

  “I say this out of respect. Vengeance is not the type of activity where you can be along for the ride,” Oak replied. “It is and always should be, a lonely game. By killing them for you, I would rob you of your revenge.”

  Sadia chuckled, but there was little humor in it. “Strange customs. Where do you hail from, giant?”

  “The Northlands.”

  “Are all northerners so fascinated with flowers?”

  “No. But from where I am standing, there is plenty to be fascinated by.”

  Wind fluttered Sadia’s hair, and the girl smacked her lips. “A lonely game, huh?”

  “Don’t get it all twisted now. I ain’t some old seer, giving you a grand quest to follow.” Oak rose back up to his full height and shook his head. “No matter the deed, one should do it for the right reasons. Will killing them bring your mother back from the dead?”

  “No.”

  “Will it make you feel better?”

  Sadia threw an angry look at him. “Based on the way you are asking, I suppose not.”

  He turned away from the village and started walking down the hillside. The girl had no choice but to follow.

  “I’ve buried a lot of friends. Avenged plenty of them.” Oak spat on the grass. “Believe me when I say that vengeance won’t give you any peace of mind. All It will give you is a corpse.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “What if it’s a corpse I am looking for?” Sadia asked.

  “Then, by all means, go for it. But I ain’t doing it for you.”

  ***

  Copses of trees dotted the lush plain all around them. Some trees had very thick trunks and no branches close to the ground, while others overflowed with foliage in all directions, almost like giant, thorn covered bushes. Sadia told him the thick ones were baobabs and the thorny ones were called buffalo thorns.

  Oak had never seen their like before his escape from Ma’aseh Merkavah, but then again, he had never been this far south before.

  Birds flitted excitedly between the trees, rejoicing in the warmth and the hopeful atmosphere of early spring. Towards the north, the plain slowly turned into forest proper, and the road vanished from view.

  Ur-Namma and Geezer were waiting where Oak had left them, next to a fork on the old road.

  Thank the Corpse-God for small mercies.

  The hellhound rushed to welcome him, tail wagging and tongue lolling out of his mouth. The dog had never enjoyed being separated from Oak for long.

  Sadia took a step backwards, her expression filled with alarm. “By the Hea–by the Hells! What is that thing?” She squealed. “It’s the size of a pony!”

  Oak knelt down to give the fussing hound a scratch and allowed Geezer to sniff him all over before snatching him into a hug. “See? I’m still in one piece, you overly worried doofus,” he said and buried his face into Geezer’s coarse black fur.

  “Clearly my thick-skulled friend has not filled you in yet,” Ur-Namma drawled. The ancient elf was leaning against a tree and carving a piece of wood with a small carving knife, his longsword dangling from his belt. The belt was brand new, just like the jacket and the cloak on his back. “It’s a hellhound.”

  “A hellhound!” Sadia shouted, mouth open in astonishment.

  Now that Geezer was certain Oak had suffered no injuries, the hound trotted right up to meet the girl. The dog circled her, snout twitching, and red eyes peeled. Sadia hunched in on herself and let out a small wail.

  “Oh, God.”

  “I know, right?” Oak said. He stood up and stretched his large frame, reaching towards the midday sun high in the sky. “From one demon worshiper to another, I can admit I was shocked when Ashmedai turned him.”

  Geezer poked Sadia with his snout, and the girl screamed in fright.

  Ur-Namma burst out laughing. Tears flowed from the elf’s eyes and he beat his thigh with a fist, overwhelmed with merriment.

  Oak stared at the elf in confusion. “What in the Hells is so funny?”

  “Oh, God in Heaven. That girl ain’t no demon worshiper.” Ur-Namma cackled like an evil witch. “And if she has ever practiced diabolism before, I will eat my boots.”

  “Hey, I’m a decent spellsinger for my age,” Sadia said, her fear of Geezer momentarily forgotten. Oak did not miss the fact she had sidestepped the question regarding her chosen faith. “And diabolism is in my blood!”

  “But have you ever done it?” Ur-Namma asked and showed his needle-like teeth.

  Oak stepped up to the girl, brows furrowed. “Yeah. You ever done it?”

  “Well, no? B–but I’m a quick study, and I have my grandmother’s grimoire right here!” Sadia said, stumbling over her words like a merchant desperately trying to close a deal that was slipping from her fingers. She held the large black book in front of her like a shield. “Grandma was a diabolist, and this is her spellbook.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Oak clapped her on the back and almost sent Sadia sprawling on the ground. “You’ll be a diabolist in no time.”

  Relief flooded Sadia’s face. “Yes! Of…of course I will!”

  I knew freeing her was a good idea! She is showing initiative already.

  Since the matter of diabolism had been dealt with, Oak turned towards Ur-Namma. “Are you ready to leave this place behind us?”

  “Yes.” The elf put away his carving knife, and the piece of wood he had been fiddling. “We should put some more distance between us and the village. I doubt your method of rescuing the girl left the villagers in a good mood.”

  Oak rubbed the back of his head and blushed. “I might have punched their priestess in the face. And broken her nose.”

  The elf lifted an eyebrow, conveying an aristocratic amount of condescension. “What is it with you, and punching people in the face?” Ur-Namma asked. “Need I remind you what happened in the last village we came across?”

  “Oh, shut it,” Oak said and pulled out his rucksack from where he had stashed it, between two bushes. He strapped the rucksack on his back and started walking down the road. If he took point, nobody could see he was embarrassed. “It’s not like you opposed the idea of rescuing the girl.”

  A feminine yelp of fear heralded the sound of dainty feet slapping the road as Sadia sprinted after him. Geezer had poked the back of the girl's leg with his snout and sent her running.

  “Oh, God! Don’t let it eat me!”

  The Ears of Amdusias truly are a marvel. Though I doubt seeing through sound is ever going to feel completely normal.

  Ur-Namma followed their strange procession. “Please. I never formally relinquished my rule. From a certain point of view, these people are my subjects,” he said. “It is my right to interfere with the mockery the locals call a legal system if I so wish.”

  Oak shook his head, overcome with wonder at the elf’s staggering arrogance. If I tried to tell someone Ur-Namma is now allied with Ashmedai, the Scourge of Thrones, they would think I have gone insane.

  The four of them followed the old road north. It wound its way around the copses of trees and the large rocks jutting out from the ground like a long snake made of dirt, slithering into view one moment and vanishing the next. The monotony of walking was only interrupted by Sadia’s occasional whimpering when Geezer wandered within biting distance, and the disturbing way Ur-Namma cackled whenever the girl looked in his direction.

  As luck would have it, the sun was still high in the sky when they reached the forest, and Oak led them into the shadowy embrace of the trees. If his hunch was correct, those shadows would come in handy before the day was done.

  Religious zealots rarely took the battery of their holy women in stride. Fear had kept the villagers in check when Oak stood in front of them, but it was easier to be brave when he was no longer close by.

  Honor would demand a hunt, and the zealots would answer its call.

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