fighting in war as you did. I had never thought them to be true." Clapping his shoulder more firmly, "You, my friend, are a constant source of surprise. Where did you learn to shoot like that? Who taught you the blade?"
"It… just felt natural." He shrugged, "I… just reacted."
Scepticism, then respect filled her gaze, "If all your kin are such as you, I pray we never anger them. No one I know could ever learn the blade in battle by instinct. No one, Aurifyr." Her respect deepened, "You saved my life – all our lives – a dozen times over. I don't know what we would have done without you, elf. I… suspect there is much you are not telling me, but keep your secrets. I am just grateful you have chosen to stand by our side."
He smiled. This time he was able to; she mirrored it.
"Commander," one of her men called, "Mortak and Tarrant have fallen."
Her smile fell. The mantel of command returning to her, she turned, "Let us leave this place. Gareth, you go on. The rest of you, tidy up here. Aurifyr, if you would please?" She waited for him, ignoring his awaiting look; "there are some tents. I would have my own rummage through them, but your eyes may see what they do not. After if you would fire them…?"
"Of course," he inclined his head, instantly knowing what she asked of him. "We shall repay their gesture in kind, and leave no trace of their camp – beyond a blackened scorch." He glanced at the clearing, "I'll set it when we are far enough away that should the wind pick up, it will not fan the flames onto us."
She gripped his shoulder again, and nodded her thanks.
There were only four of them left now, he realised, watching as Vai rode out. He barely even recalled her men falling. It was as if one moment they had been there, and the next, they had not. Life could be counted in heartbeats, but for now, it had stilled. There might be more of them hiding out in the trees, waiting to ambush them, but if they came, unless they could overwhelm them, they would fight their way free.
The taint within his blood danced, elation at carnage. This was who he was, what he was born for: an avatar of destruction, an avatar of death. No mere mortal could dare stand before him. Today had been a lesson, an exercise in flexing his abilities; a chance to test his prowess. He had passed, with flying colours. The dreamself was proud of him; even the cold logic approved. And this? This was but the first taste. More was promised.
In his mind's eye, the mountain of corpses grew. The skull atop the throne was still grinning. The slaughter had gone well.