Misty’s legs thudded across the purple sand. Eyes fixed ahead, she was as determined as we were to reach the Harshlands.

  The smell of Cashius’s cigar hung heavily in the thick air. How he managed to smoke them in this heat remained a mystery. Where he kept getting them was an even bigger one.

  A sharp pain made me wince. I reached around to my backside and gave it a rub.

  As I did, I complained to Sparks, who had slipped back inside my shirt pocket to spare her wings. A heartbeat later, she sent a thought through the bond.

  she echoed.

  We stopped, and a three-dimensional image emerged across the landscape, big blocky letters colored like a glass of orange juice. The words were so massive I had to crane my head to take them all in.

  When I did gaze out, I was awestruck.

  Harshlands,

  Deep purple sand stretched for miles. A flock of large burgundy birds drifted across the blue sky, clouds floating above them. Below, groups of animals tore into one another, their screams and roars carrying even at this distance.

  My guide and mentor nodded, biting down on his cigar. His jacket hung open, exposing a white shirt and frail chest.

  “This place is still special to me,” he said with a smile. “The fighting, the women, the monsters I’ve slain here. They made me who I am today.” He blew out a cloud of white smoke. “Even thinking back sends shivers down my spine.”

  I stared at him.

  “Here, you’ll get your first real piece of Orbralis and make some new friends,” he continued. “I’m kind of sad I can’t join you in some of the battles.”

  “Cheer up. Giving me advice should keep you plenty busy, Cashius.”

  “We’ll see. For now,” he wiped his brow, “let’s hurry down and see what awaits us. And make sure you scan every one of the monsters and read their descriptions. If you miss something, it could mean the end of our quest.”

  “Don’t I always scan ’em? That’s one of the reasons we made it this far.”

  He chuckled. “If you believe that,” he muttered, then kicked Spike’s side with his boot. The Atarax trotted down the steep hill, leaving prints in the sand.

  When we hit the bottom, no one expected what would happen next.

  But what can I say? Every day isn’t filled with luck.

  * * *

  Misty’s legs thudded across the purple sand. Hanging on to the saddle, I fought three creatures at once. Each jolt threatened to throw me off. With the large wound in my shoulder leaking blood, I wasn’t sure I would stay on.

  Every swing sent searing pain down my arm, but if I wanted to kill them, I had to endure it. Switching to the Gorton staff, I blasted the small, demon-like creatures burrowing up from the sand and spitting fireballs at me.

  The smell of singed hair hit my nose as I barely dodged the attack. Patting my scorched hair, I kicked Misty forward and, as we sped past, twisted halfway around in my seat to see their stiff bodies frozen in the purple sand.

  Without blinking, I pulled a potion from my inventory, flipped open the top, and downed it in one go.

  The sweet berry flavor coated my mouth, and the wound in my shoulder knit itself shut.

  HP: 7,245/9,000

  Mana: 600/1600

  Not bad, under the circumstances.

  My feet sank into the sand as I hopped off Misty, finished off the monsters, and ended their miserable lives before turning to search for Cashius.

  The ground rumbled, shaking me. From beneath the sand, more of the ugly bastards clawed at my ankle, trying to drag me under.

  [-299]

  [-134]

  I grunted, jumped clear, and pointed the staff downward as an arctic beam of frost blasted from the tip, freezing the bastards in place.

  Their frozen bodies peeked through the desert, trapped in blue shards of ice. Taking Havoc Maker, I smashed them apart, shattering each one into a thousand pieces.

  Orbs and gold circled me before disappearing, the rush of experience hitting me like a brick.

  After a few seconds of scanning the vast desert, I dropped to my knees. “Cashius!” I screamed. “Where the fuck did you run off to?”

  No one answered.

  The only sound was shifting sand and Misty grunting in frustration.

  From behind me, I craned my head and saw Sparks flying in, her wings beating furiously over the hot desert.

  Surprise surged through the bond.

  I held out my hand as she descended into it, concern etched across her tiny face. “Did you see Cashius, Sparks? Do you know where he went?”

  Stolen story; please report.

  She paused, hovered for a second, then darted eastward, beckoning me to follow.

  The warm sand heated the soles of my feet as I ran after her, hoping she would lead me to my friend.

  I glanced back at my steed, and it vanished into fine mist.

  “Where are you leading us, Sparks? Is this where Cashius ran off to?” I asked, returning my focus to my petite companion.

  A knowing pulsed between us. I scanned the field. No enemies in sight. To be sure, I glanced at the map in the lower right of my screen. All clear. But in this godforsaken desert, surprises lurked everywhere.

  “Sparks, what’s wrong?”

  More certainty surged through the bond, laced with determination, but no answer came. To find out what was bothering her, I had to follow.

  She sped up, her tiny light now a dim flicker against the blinding backdrop.

  “Slow down,” I shouted, but she pressed on.

  Frustrated, I spat on the ground. “Fucking sand imps,” I muttered. “Why didn’t Cashius tell me they don’t show up on the map? Stupid old man.”

  Hot sand filled my boots. The sun bore down like a relentless interrogator. Sweat ran into my eyes. The whole situation felt hopeless beyond measure.

  I checked my MP.

  Nearly drained. Too many boomerang tosses on those Hecklers in the last zone, and not enough potions had left me dry. A few more blasts from the staff, and after that, it would be me and my strength-based weapons.

  On top of that, my guide had vanished in the thick of battle, leaving me stranded in a place where everything looked the same.

  Purple sand. Fierce monsters.

  The ground rumbled again.

  Scrolling through my weapons, I landed on the Slugthrower and bolted for cover. Next to it glowed the ammunition.

  The Heat-Seeking Sky Launcher.

  Only two rounds left.

  If I could load the blue ammunition and fire it into the sky, the red heat seekers would finish off the sand imps lurking beneath me.

  I rolled into the hot sand, jammed the blue shell into the rifle, and fired as they emerged, fangs bared.

  The beacon pinged, locking onto every enemy within twenty feet.

  I reached for the red shell, cocked back the barrel to load it when an imp snatched my hand and knocked it loose.

  “Shit,” I hissed, switching to Havoc Maker and cleaving the fat little bastard clean in half.

  [-999]

  [SavageDisplay]

  I needed that shell, but finding it now was impossible. A horde of beasts spat fireball after fireball, scorching the sand around me.

  “Sparks, find the shell!” I shouted.

  She darted between fire and steel as if born for it, digging into the sand in a frantic search.

  “Please hurry, little lady.”

  I sidestepped, sliced, then up-thrust and cut. Two fell, but many more surged forward.

  [-999]

  [-999]

  [Dead]

  [Brutal Injury]

  I cut again. Another collapsed.

  [-999]

  The desert heat mixed with the imps’ flames, soaking me in sweat.

  I turned on my heel, slammed the tip of Havoc Maker into the sand, and skewered one clean through.

  [InstantDeath]

  The imps were easy to kill, but there were too many. For every one I cut down, two more tried to drag me under, while another five spat fireballs from the rear.

  The bond pulsed.

  I turned and saw the shell flying toward me.

  Without a second thought, I snatched it from the air and switched weapons like clockwork.

  Havoc Maker vanished in mist, and Slugthrower appeared. I knelt, loaded the shotgun, and fired overhead.

  Two seconds later, the imps exploded as the heat-seeking bullets found their targets.

  I sighed as guts and innards rained down everywhere.

  Tons of orbs and gold flowed into my body.

  Sparks cheered as the battlefield drenched itself in green goo, including her.

  “Thanks, Missy,” I said as she shook off the mess, her mouth twisting into a grin. “Now please tell me where Cashius is.”

  She clasped a hand over her face and took off again.

  I switched back to Havoc Maker, threw it on my back, and followed. “I hope this time you find what you’re looking for,” I said, panting.

  Keeping up with her was a challenge. Every two minutes, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure I was still there, then sped off again.

  Through a canyon, down a large dune, and around a bend.

  When she stopped, somehow not out of breath like me, I bent over with my hands on my knees, lungs burning and heart racing.

  A quick lift of my head showed me where she led me.

  Need raced through the bond.

  We stood before a cave carved into the side of a massive mountain. Near the mouth, large insects crawled over the rocks, their claws snapping at the air.

  Time to get moving.

  Literally.

  I ran up, raised my foot, and brought it down on the scorpion-like creatures. Their hard shells crunched beneath my weight.

  [-99]

  Between stomps, I peeked inside, seeing nothing but darkness.

  With boots covered in creamy sludge, I motioned for Sparks to lead the way, her glow lighting the blackness before us.

  she sent through the bond.

  That fueled me with more determination.

  Zigzagging at a steady pace, she forced me to keep up. At first, I didn’t mind, but the deeper we traveled into the dark, dank cave, the more alarmed I grew.

  “Where are you taking me, Sparks? Is Cashius inside—”

  Before I could finish, someone grabbed Sparks, and a hand clamped over my mouth.

  “Ssshh,” they whispered. “If you make too much noise, all will be for nothing.”

  I stiffened, not fighting but listening.

  The hand left my mouth, and I relaxed as much as I dared.

  Shuffling sounds reached my ears, then silence.

  Panic threatened to seize me, but I forced myself to remain calm.

  A clang of metal on bone. Maybe.

  Now a scuffle, then a heavy thud, followed by cheering.

  “What’s happening?” I whispered, fear gripping me.

  A hand clasped my shoulder. “Relax, boy. Nothing here but the Flish’ar and a now-dead Ganeraonom.”

  I turned, surprise slipping into my voice. “Cashius, I ought to strangle your old gray-haired ass,” I said, breaking into a grin. “Where did you go, and what is all this?”

  A crackle of flashes lit the darkness.

  Faces wrapped in rags, bodies draped in flowing robes. The smell of incense and sweat hung heavy.

  I glanced around as someone released Sparks. She flew to me, kissed my cheek, and filled me with calm and happiness.

  I wiped the tiny wet speck away.

  “Someone explain what the hell is happening before I start swinging my sword,” I said, my smile replaced with anger.

  A stranger stepped forward and pressed his thumb and forefinger against my neck, forcing me to my knees.

  “Savages like you must learn respect,” he said, pressing tighter.

  I grunted but forced myself upright. “I’m not a savage. I just want answers.”

  He smiled, clamped down again, and I collapsed. “Learn your place.”

  I struggled to rise, but his grip held firm.

  “You’re coming with us,” he growled, “to explain why you trespass on our land with the stench of Linuux. If the other chieftains approve, you live. If not—” his sneer widened, “your blood will decorate our blades.”

  At that moment, Cashius whispered in the stranger’s ear, and he released me.

  The room fell silent.

  “First you said Linuux hunted you, and then your friend arrived smelling the same,” he said. “You’re all coming with us, even the fairy.”

  He conferred with his party, then spoke.

  “Take the Ganeraonom to the women to clean, then we eat.”

  As he left, he glanced at me with disdain, his people following close behind.

  “That’s one of the chiefs of the Flish’ar,” Cashius said. “Hard-ass, but he softens once you get to know him. I remembered enough of their customs to arrange passage into their camp. Keep out of his way until he sends for you. That part of the mission won’t change, or at least, I don’t think so.”

  I rubbed my neck. “Please tell me what happened before I lose my mind.”

  “Give me a sec.” He lit a cigar. “There’s a lot to explain.”

  It went like this.

  When we were ambushed by the sand imps, which Cashius claimed hadn’t happened in his run-through, he ran for cover.

  Behind a rock, he stumbled into the Flish’ar. At first, they wanted to kill him for smelling like Linuux, but after he revealed a few remembered customs, they named him Tisshok, meaning friend. Sparks caught a glimpse of it all during the chaos and followed his trail.

  After explaining everything, Cashius crushed his cigar against a stone and walked into the chamber. I rubbed my hands together and followed, eager to see where this path would lead.