The man screamed in pain.

Blisters erupted on the thug’s face as he panted, his eyes watering as he tried to focus on his attacker.

Tamia stood, frozen. The pot that had been, until recently, boiling broth over the fire hung heavily from her hand, dripping slowly the remains of its contents.

Wordlessly, the bigger man turned and grabbed the slim woman standing to the side, viciously slamming her into a simple wooden shelf, sending spices and jars tumbling to the packed earth.

Watching her mother crumple to the ground, Tamia’s face went slack with shock.

Turning back to the staring girl, the thug grinned, revealing cracked and yellowed teeth. Taking a small step towards her, he made a show of drawing his long dirk, twisting it between his thick hands.

"Now come on, missy. I didn’t come here to hurt anyone… if you would be so kind as to tell me where it is…”

Tamia blinked, her foot edging backwards. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She inwardly despised herself for the tremor in her voice. Here I am, in the face of danger, and I just break down into a cowardly little girl? How proud my mother would be now.

Trembling, she held her ground, determined not to be intimidated by the attacker, in spite of him being many years her senior and about three times her size.

“Don’t play stupid. Where is it?”

“What are you talking about?” Tamia noted with satisfaction that her she had regained her steady exterior.

“I have no time for this. Just tell me!” All pretence at calm had left the man now; his shoulders hunched and tense, his deep voice quivering with rage.

Saying nothing, Tamia watched the man carefully. Ducking aside, she missed the wild swing he took at her head.

Stepping behind him, she danced out of the way of another attack. Lashing out with her foot, she swept the feet out from under the attacker, watching him crash to the ground.

He sprang back to his feet, advancing on Tamia slowly, more warily. Tamia slowly edged back, searching for a weapon.

"You are a shame to humanity… if you could be included in that.” He glared at her, and turned, kicking the limp form of Tamia’s mother.

Tamia couldn’t believe it. Not only had he knocked her out, he kicked her. Tamia felt the anger rise like bile, burning the back of her throat, clouding her vision. It ran through her veins, fire reaching her fingertips. Of it’s own accord, her mouth framed strange syllables, and she realized she couldn’t control herself anymore. She watched her hands rise, anger overriding her uncertainty.

A strange power woke, leaving every bone in her body humming, singing, until tamia was sure she could not bear it any longer.

The attacker looked up just as the power was unleashed, a wave of raw energy, surging throughout the room.

Clay jars cracked, precious glass shattered, and the man was tossed like a discarded scrap against the hearth, unconscious.

As her senses returned to normal, uncertainty flooded Tamia. What had just happened? What had she just done?

Her muses were interrupted by a sense of her energy being sucked away. She swayed, nausea sweeping her frame in great waves.

She dropped in a dead faint.

Tamia blinked. She wasn’t sure where she was, and tried to remember.

She squinted, raising her hand, glancing at her surroundings. Only, there wasn’t any surroundings. Just soft cream light, everywhere she looked.

Ahead, there was a light, brighter then the rest. Tamia peered, but couldn’t make out the source.

The light wavered, and twisted upon itself. Tamia looked on, her mouth slack and her eyes wide.

Suddenly a man stood before her.

His face was delicate, almost feminine, with a pale green shade to it. A laughing yet compassionate mouth was centred beneath eyes the same leaf-green as Tamia's own. He was clothed in a simple robe of undyed cotton.

A wave of recognition swept her to her very soul, yet she knew with a terrible certainty that she had never seen him in all her fifteen years.

"Father...?" She ventured, uncertain. "Where am I?"

"Hush Tamia, all will become clear in time." Her father's voice was warm and tender, yet guarded.

"But father..." She took a step towards the lost parent. He waved her back, regret showing in his eyes.

"I cannot. Not here. There are... others." he looked away, tears shining. "You look just like your mother." He shook his head slightly, as if bringing himself back to the present.

Turning to her, her raised a hand. "You must go. We will meet again when we are unobserved."

Tamia's head burst with unanswered questions. She looked at the pale ivory clouds far below her.

Where had he gone?

Why?

Those days of sitting at the window wondering haunted her. She looked up at him, a protest forming on her lips.

He was gone.

Behind her, the shadow leapt.

****

Tamia sat bolt upright, unable to say what caused her heart to race and her mind to panic.

She held her head as overwhelming pain hit her, wave after wave, in time with her heartbeat. “Argh…” She tried shaking her head to clear it, but it just caused the pain to sharpen.

Glancing upwards, her reflection caught her attention, distorted in a polished brass plate.

Had she really seen her father? Where was he now? Was it merely her over-active imagination, brought into sharp focus by stress and fatigue? Tamia frowned, watching her reflection respond. Could it be real?

Tamia fingered her small, pointed ears. Her hair, the pale colour of driftwood, was straight and fine. Her mouth was set and determined, yet slightly curved upwards as if she was smiling at some jest no one else could hear or understand.

Then recollection hit her.

"Ma!" She cried, spinning on her heel, panic swamping her mind, pushing out all thought of her father.

She rushed to the bruised and bleeding woman, a cry tearing from her lips. Her mother was breathing shallowly, blood dripping down her cheek from a head wound. Her tunic was torn and pulled up, exposing a large blue-purple bruise across her chest and ribs.

Tamia fell to her knees beside her mother, disbelief written all over her features.

Was this it…? Was she going to die? It couldn’t be. Tamia rejected those thoughts. Shoved them into the back of her mind, denied their possibility. Mother was going to be alright, she just needed some help. And rest.

“Mother… can you hear me?” Tamia called softly, certain she would wake, sit up, and everything would be alright. It was unthinkable, that anything else would happen.

When she got no response, Tamia placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking gently. “Ma… wake up!”

Tamia’s Mother stirred slightly, groaning.

“….Tamia….?”

“Yes, Ma? Do you wish for some wine? Or a blanket? Shall I take you to bed, Ma…?” Tamia’s voice shook slightly, silently begging her mother to sit up and comfort her, to tell her that everything will be fine.

Her ma did no such thing, however. “Tamia, you must leave. Now.” Her voice was strong, in spite of her evident pain.

“What? I can’t! I have to help you, now, come on…” Tamia tugged at her mother’s arm.

“No, Tamia. You have to go. Take-” Tamia watched her mother gasp for breath, her eyes glassing over at some hidden pain. Her voice shaking, she continued. “Take the pack stashed in the cupboard. It has what you need.”

“But, Ma-”

“No buts, Tamia! Take the pack, and, take…take my necklace.”

Tamia frowned in puzzlement. “Your necklace? Why would I need-”

Her mother laughed weakly, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. “That’s my Tamia, all right. Can’t take an order on good faith… Take the necklace, Tamia. You take it… need to give it…give it to your father.”

Tamia was confused. Why did she need to take a necklace to her father?

Who was her father?

“Ma-”

Tamia paused. Her mother didn’t blink, or gasp for her next breath.

She didn’t breathe at all.

“Ma??”

Tamia shook her mother hard. No response.

Here I was, asking stupid questions, and my mother dying at my feet…

“Ma! Wake up! Please wake up…” Tamia pleaded, staring into her mother’s eyes.

Slowly, she let her mother slide to the floor.

***

In the mountains, there is a city.

Not many know of this city, and of those that do, most avoid it.

The winding streets and alleyways are covered with filth, rubbish, and the occasional rotting body.

Here, you are either careful, or you are dead. Maybe not right away, but it is only a matter of time.

The city of Satia. The City Of All Things Unholy.

A figure crept down the dark streets. Tired from his long journey, he could not rest yet. Underneath his down-turned bucket hat his eyes searched the shaded and rundown buildings carefully. Force of habit made sure him scope out all the possible escape routes, ready to make a quick getaway.

He passed a sneering whore, raising her eyebrow suggestively, but he had no time for such things.

Maybe later, he mused. If I still feel up to it, after this.

Eventually he came to a door, much like any other door, unless you knew what you were looking for. Etched over the rusted hinges was a tiny inverted 'Y', insignificant on its own, except to those who knew what it stood for.

Opening the door, the scent of incense hit him like a wall. Flowers, spices and oils combined into a potent eye-watering mix. The man was sure the occupant chose such a potent insence purely to make visitors uncomfortable. Once inside, he lifted his hat and shoved it in his grey jacket pocket. He shook out his messy hair and sighed, anticipating the next short period of his life to be painful.

"I trust you are well, Mr Forsonn."

Ryn Forsonn made sure the door was locked and turned to the figure sitting by the fire.

"I am sorry sir, but the Idiot fail-" The figure cut Ryn off.

"I know. Why did you not finish her? or are you too weak?"

Ryn looked away. "Sir, you know I cannot. Not until I have recovered from the magic. You know that!"

"Serves you right for going too close to those stinking elves! Though I trust you saw to the idiot?"

"Yessir. The girl had fled. But at least she cannot return. Her home is in ashes."

"Good. Rest here in the city. Then once you can stand to be within striking distance, Kill her."

The figure in the shadows watched Ryn leave, jamming his hat on his head and passing back through the door without another word.

The dark figure sat motionless for a while longer, staring into the depths of his own mind.

"Idiot."

With this he stood to his full six feet and turned up the lamp. He had dimmed it when he had sensed Ryn coming.

It wouldn't do for Ryn to know who exactly he was dealing with, after all.

He ran his fingers through his short coarse hair, wincing as his claws caught in a snag.

"They never think past the next pay. Too bad for them."

An intoxicating aroma came from the next room. "Ah!" He smiled. "Dinner!"

* * *

Tamia was sore. Her feet ached, her head pounded and she was weary beyond imagination. She had walked for nine days, eating berries and roots she found in the woods.

Her shortbow was slung over her shoulder, useless. She had snapped her last string three days ago, stalking a young hare. Berries and grubs were fine, in small doses, but what Tamia hungered for was real meat.

Apart from her physical ailments, she was reeling inside. After her mother died, she packed in a daze. The prone body of the attacker was still slumped against the hearth. She had taken out her hunting knife and drew it across his throat, all emotions numb.

Then she had turned her back on her mother, her home, her life. Unsure what to do, she had just chose a direction and walked.

Looking back on the day now, Tamia almost vomited in guilt and shame. Not only had she killed a man, she had left her mother's body to rot, without the proper rituals demanded by the dead.

That night, she started a fire and stared into the flames. An owl flew overhead, its mournful call echoing Tamia's grief. It was always the worst at night, when labor was no longer distracting her. Her mind buzzed with thoughts, and her emotions boiled inside her.

If only he hadn't come.

If only she hadn't froze when he grabbed Ma.

If only she could go back and preform the rituals.

If only...

No! Her mind rebelled. She wouldn't think of this. She can't feel like this. No more self-pity. As she lay down to sleep, she resolved to not look back.

So, in the morning, she mechanically ate some tubers she had cooked the night before. She packed up, and she walked.

Where? She didn't care.

True to her word, she had locked out all emotions. In the weeks after, she reverted back to natural instincts. She ate, slept and walked, never allowing herself thought or emotion. An observer would have thought her insane, her eyes glazed and a strange half-smile on her face.

Her once healthy hair was falling out of a much unkempt ponytail. She was filthy, dirt staining her fair skin a dusty brown. Her leather vest was torn and a leaf was snagged in her loose trousers.

She pushed through the undergrowth, moving slowly, awkwardly, eyes darting and searching for danger, or a meal.

"Oi! lady!"

Tamia span like a startled animal, hand on the hilt of her hunting knife, eyes searching the dense bush.

A figure dropped out of the trees, landing in a crouch.

"No need f' the knife now... just wanna talk."

It was a child... Tamia blinked. No. Not a child... He was too well proportioned, as though four feet tall was his intended height. His large brown eyes were dancing in mischief, and his chestnut hair looked untameable.

Tamia's eyes focused, and a light in her features was relit.

"Who... who are you?" Tamia's voice was faltering and rusty after her days of solitude.

The boy grinned, exposing bright grin, full of good humor and trouble.

"Me? I'm your savior.”

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Okay, I decided to rewrite my story, as I was re-reading my earlier parts and decided they needed a polish. I will now be posting in chapters, rather then parts.

It still needs polishing, though. All comments are welcome