[ASC 923.7.15]

  193 cycles since the Xolarii Purge.

  The twin suns drifted sluggishly across the horizon. Two heavy-lidded ruddy eyes, endeavouring to open against the haze of sleep.

  Xaryk Foe had no such luxury: his eyes were wide, and his head on a swivel.

  Though the town was barely at his flanks, he couldn’t run the risk of dropping his guard. In a small town such as Longshadow, enemies were easy to make and hard to kill.

  The bounty hunter held no illusions he’d made more than a few the previous evening.

  A shrill whistle sent Mayweather into a canter, dust billowing from her wide-set paws.

  It was fortunate Repo had done well training her: Xaryk detested spurs.

  The pair devoured clicks in a monotonous blur of dust roads and mountain ranges.

  As the twin suns reached their zenith, their rageful glares demanded they stop and rest.

  Warm water splashed down his gullet before a hefty portion was donated to Mayweather.

  Xaryk had to bat the quadral away several times to prevent her from snatching the water sack from his hands.

  “Easy girl,” he chided, hiding the container away. The last thing he needed was to become stranded in the desert with no water.

  Twice the suns meant he would expire twice as fast.

  The xolus surveyed the small map he’d purchased that morning.

  Swift strides had devoured a great distance during the morning, yet the heat would slow them down as the day grew longer.

  Should they keep their pace, he surmised they would be within a few clicks of Crescent Moon Gulley by late afternoon the next day. After which they would rest in the evening and strike early the next day.

  Pocketing the map, Xaryk mounted Mayweather and steered her off-road and into the yawning maw of the desert.

  Pain lanced through the bounty hunter’s back and he groaned. He gingerly rubbed at the spot, stretching his stiff shoulders.

  As the trail had diverged into the desert true, hard road had given way to soft sand.

  The constant shifting under Mayweather’s paws meant staying in the saddle was a constant balancing act.

  The quadral had evolved to survive here; Xaryk had not.

  While his body ached for rest, the xolus was set on sticking to his deadline.

  The sooner I’m off this sand trap, he thought irritably, the better.

  Intrusively, thoughts of Rannit and Violja rolled through his mind like a tumbleweed across the horizon.

  Even the mount beneath him elicited a pang of regret.

  That’s not for you, the bounty hunter thought, wringing the back of his sunburnt neck.

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  Xaryk hadn’t thought xolus even could get sunburn.

  Takal had proven him wrong.

  Xaryk squinted irritably as a harsh light found his gaze.

  Bright hues of blue, green, and pink danced across his vision in a dazzling display.

  Gold eyes searched out the source of the light, puzzled.

  The burning at his back declared the location of the twin suns: it should be at least two hours before one of them found their way into his sightline.

  It wasn’t long before Xaryk identified the source of the light: a ball of rainbow luminosity less than a click away.

  It was moving fast.

  “Hyah!” Xaryk urged Mayweather into a dash, eager to put as much distance between himself and the prism as possible.

  The light veered, changing its trajectory to intercept their path.

  Dying light! That thing’s fast!

  It wasn’t long before it fell into step behind Mayweather.

  The gap was quickly closing.

  A long snout lined with rows of gleaming fangs thrust forward from a wedge-shaped head. Beady black eyes glinted beneath massive ears swept back along a sleek neck. Powerful shoulders surged forward, level with Xaryk’s head, as six lithe, muscled legs—four fore, two hind—pounded the desert floor. A spiked tail lashed, twitching with anticipation.

  Most striking of all were the opaque scales that ran from gnashing jaws to tail. They shone with rainbow light in the blinding rays of the suns.

  Without hesitation, Xaryk drew his revolver and pulled the trigger. Gold energy spat from the barrel with a metallic chime.

  A direct hit.

  The blast hit the creature right between the eyes—and bounced off, soaring harmlessly into the sky.

  The predator’s snarling jaws seemed to smile…

  What is that thing made of?!

  The unforgiving heat of Takal must have forged its scales to reflect light, and heat.

  Energy, Xaryk realised, similar to that expelled by magus-class weapons.Shit.

  The monstrosity lunged, forelimbs outstretched.

  Xaryk heaved on the reins. Mayweather skidded across loose dirt, paws kicking up a spray of dust.

  The beast overshot. It reared, snarling as it spun back around.

  “Go!” Xaryk hissed, driving Mayweather into a full sprint, surging past the creature’s flank.

  The pursuit continued as the creature ran adjacent to Mayweather, snapping at her slighter form.

  The bounty hunter’s gaze darted over the creature’s body, probing the shimmering hide for weakness.

  He found only one.

  A rocky formation rose to the creature’s left. If they’d had the advantage of size, he could have bullied it into the side, crushing it.

  To their right, only open desert beckoned.

  The creature was fast. Too fast to outrun.

  Mayweather screeched in pain as a snapping fang clipped her shoulder.

  Xaryk’s rage peaked with Mayweather’s shrill cries.

  He leaned in the saddle towards the creature, using his body as bait. His right foot slipped from the stirrup.

  Closer!

  The predator’s black eyes locked on him, sharp as a fired bullet.

  It lunged.

  Xaryk leapt from the saddle. He launched himself upward, boot slamming against the creature’s skull.

  The momentum carried him up and over, allowing the beast to pass through them like thread through the eye of a needle.

  His boots slammed back onto the saddle. He wobbled, arms flung wide, fighting for balance as Mayweather raced beneath him.

  Shifting his gun hand, Xaryk looped the reins around his arm, mindful of the solid wall of rock rushing by on their left.

  The beast roared in frustration. It had been denied its trophy for too long.

  It struck again, hoping to catch the xolus off balance.

  Xaryk yanked Mayweather hard toward the rock wall. She leapt, pushing off the stone in a desperate kick.

  They sailed over the creature’s lunging form.

  Xaryk levelled his gun mid-air: he’d needed height and a single moment to hit his mark—the only unarmoured part of his prey.

  The bolt lanced through its eye, continuing out its open jaw.

  Black ichor fountained.

  The beast staggered, limbs tangling beneath its bulk. It flipped, crashed, and skidded to a halt, blood staining the sand.

  Mayweather landed from her acrobatic leap hard, knees bent to absorb the impact.

  The force travelled through the quadral to where Xaryk stood astride his saddle.

  This won’t be pleasant…

  Thought travelled a split second faster than the momentum that tore him from the saddle.

  He hit the dirt, sliding, rolling. Each impact rattled through his bruised and battered body until, mercifully, he stopped.

  “...Ow,” he groaned, sprawled in the dust.

  The xolus had been content to lie in the dirt and dust until the throbbing pain subsided, yet the crunch of boots on sand heralded a stranger’s approach.

  On Takal, all strangers were a threat until proven otherwise.

  Move!

  He forced his limbs into motion, staggering upright—

  —just in time to come face-to-face with the barrel of a gun.

  Hey epic readers,

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  thirty chapters of —an atmospheric, slow-burn epic fantasy full of intrigue.