We exited the tent and stepped back into the warm air. This time, I was armed with information that made me eye the man I had considered a friend suspiciously.

  He was holding back the things I needed to know. Things that could get me killed. What would make a grown man do such a thing?

  Sure, the game told him to, but he could have at least warned me, given me a heads-up, or something. But not Cashius. He would follow every rule, no matter what, even after being fooled into playing the game again.

  One thing about me was that my trust was hard to earn. I told him things about my family, shared stories of my upbringing, everything. And what did he do? He held back important information when I needed it most.

  Sparks hovered around me as I pushed my way through the large crowd gathered before the sandworm. Their faces were little more than blurs, people I would never remember.

  While they celebrated, full of newfound zest for life, I wanted to be left alone to sulk and rethink my friendship with Cashius.

  “Stupid, old man,” I half mumbled.

  I walked, fiddling with Fang and Viper, and looking over the map. Sparks sent me an emotion through the bond, something that felt like forgiveness and regret.

  I glanced at her buzzing around and ignored it. The feelings I had were too fresh to forgive. That went for Cashius and anyone else who thought they could fuck me over.

  I dropped into an abandoned chair and let out a long breath. My mind drifted home again. I wished I could be there right now, playing a game or maybe making money doing deliveries instead of being stuck in this crazy place.

  I pictured myself on my comfortable couch, smoking some weed, catching the munchies. Or better yet, swiping on Tinder, trying to line up a hookup for the day. But no—I was here, with a battle fairy who wanted me to forgive my worthless, won’t-tell-his-partner-a-damn-thing guide.

  A hot breeze blew over me, carrying purple sand and heartache. I unequipped Fang and Viper, leaned back in the chair, and closed my eyes while Sparks flew off as she sometimes did.

  Where to? Who cared.

  Feeling thirsty and restless, I glanced around for water. What I found instead wasn’t wet, but sharp and pointy, pressing against my neck, cold enough to make me forget about my thirst.

  “Who are you, and why were you inside talking with Jessa?” a female voice demanded.

  I tried to turn around, but an arm snaked around my throat, and the blade pressed tighter against my skin. “Please don’t make me kill you,” the stranger whispered.

  I raised my hands. “I mean you no harm.”

  Blood trickled down my neck. “Tell me,” she hissed, “before I end you.”

  I stuttered. “I—I have to perform a test,” I explained. “A trial to see if I can be an honorary member of your tribe and to learn the technique to keep Linuux from invading my thoughts.”

  The blade eased back, and her arm slipped from around my neck.

  “The Covenant of Blades?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I said, standing letting my arms fall. “So who are you?”

  “My name doesn’t matter,” she said, giving me a once over. “But the Covenant of Blades isn’t for outsiders. What makes you think you can pass their trials?”

  “I don’t want to,” I said, wiping the blood from me. “but if I’m going to move my quest forward, it looks like I don’t have a choice.”

  She nodded and folded her arms. “What quest?”

  “To gather the Stones of Orbralis. To do that, I have to defeat Linuux.”

  Her left eyebrow lifted in surprise. “Noble, yet foolish,” she breathed. “Linuux and his psychic powers have plagued me and my people for centuries.” She paced around me. “One moment of weakness and you’re done. But,” her voice rose in pitch, “if you must do this, let us pray the Maker guides your blade.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” I said, eyeing her as she walked around me.

  She was a foot shorter than me, with long black hair and eyes the color of amber. Her face was beautiful as the sun, skin dark like mine but lighter, and unlike the other women I’d seen in robes, she wore a skintight leather pantsuit that showed every curve of her body.

  “Do you have a name? Or are you gonna leave me guessing?”

  She stopped. “Nefa, sometime assassin and protector of my people,” she said, twisting the knife in her hand before sliding it back into her waist with a flourish. “I apologize for the rude introduction, but I had to make sure you weren’t an enemy,” she added with a smile. “You do understand, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “So what about you? Do you have a name, or am I not important enough to receive it?”

  “Oh, my name’s Lamont. No moniker or anything, but I do get busy with this,” I said, summoning Havoc Maker into my hand and giving it a twirl.

  Sparks joined us and settled on my shoulder, her face scrunched up. Anger, then curiosity, passed between us.

  “This is my battle fairy,” I said, introducing her. “And if she hadn’t wandered off, she would’ve alerted me to your presence,” I added, smirking.

  Nefa stared at Sparks with interest. “Respect is shared,” she said, stomping her foot.

  It was impossible not to notice the way her body moved in the sunlight, her very large breast bouncing with each step.

  A few moments passed with me admiring her beauty, thinking of something to prolong our exchange. She leaned back on one foot, watching me.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Why are you staring like a child?” she asked.

  I held my head low, embarrassment eating me. “The heat is getting to me,” I lied.

  She giggled and placed a hand on her hip. “Well, if you’re not going to tell me the truth, I must be off,” she said. “Maybe we’ll meet again.” She turned on her heel and jogged away.

  I threw a hand up. “Wait, I have to ask you a few questions,” I called after her.

  She turned, eyes gleaming. “Those will have to wait. For now, I have something else to see to. Peace and respect are earned,” she said, putting a hand over her ample breast, then bringing it down with force.

  Then she took off, her legs gathering speed with a jolt of acceleration. The next thing I saw, she was moving as fast as a car, weaving around whatever obstacles were in front of her.

  I shook my head, questioning what had just happened.

  Sparks turned her nose up at Nefa’s departure. “What’s wrong, lil lady? Don’t you like her?”

  A strong “no” echoed across the bond, followed by distrust.

  “Oh my god,” I said. “You’re jealous of her?”

  She shook her head.

  “Yes, you are. I can tell,” I chuckled. “There’s nothing to be jealous about… yet,” I winked at her. “And besides, we may never see her again.”

  Sparks harumphed, turned red in the face, and drifted back into her orbit around me as I walked and inspected the area.

  I found it amusing that she was jealous of the mysterious woman. But once that wore off, my mind circled back to the anger I felt for Cashius. Foul old man with his secrets, tangled up in some bogus scheme, while my happy-go-lucky ass wouldn’t have a clue what he had planned.

  I looked up and realized I was passing places I had already seen. Besides, the sun was setting. If I wanted to eat and celebrate with the natives, it was best to return before it got too late.

  With a half-cooled mind and a stomach beginning to growl, I headed toward the big tent, dreading my reunion with Cashius.

  * * *

  What was this madness? I wondered, pushing my way through the crowd.

  It felt like the entire caravan had crammed into this small space, yammering and screaming with excitement.

  When I made it to the front, the scene had changed. Instead of the thirty-foot sand worm sitting in front of the golden tent, there was now a long banquet-style table, draped in exquisite cloth and set with plates and drinking utensils.

  How?

  Some trick the game probably allowed.

  The air carried a divine scent that made my empty stomach twist with hunger for whatever was cooking.

  The crowd drank what I assumed was liquor, gripping chunks of grilled flesh in their hands. “Here,” someone shouted, shoving a greasy, rubbery piece into my hand. “Eat and praise the Maker!”

  I glanced around and saw people grilling thick, white slabs of carved sand worm in the crowd. The smoke curled in the air like mustaches. I focused on the meat, curious about what the game would say about it.

  Sand Worm — Meat

  Grilled in thick, savory chunks, this delicacy is tasty for a creature of its size. Eating it grants sharper vision and a modest boost to strength. It can be stored for later or consumed on the spot. It boasts a long shelf life and serves as a vital staple of the Flish’ar diet.

  The locals treat it with reverence, often gathering around fires to grill and season the meat with herbs and desert spices. Each bite carries a hint of smoky flavor and a subtle zest from the seasonings, making it more than just sustenance. It is a celebration of survival and community. Consuming it not only nourishes the body but also connects one to the traditions and resilience of the Flish’ar people.

  I inspected the piece, noticing the leaves and seeds sprinkled across the surface, the color of the flesh, and the perfect grill marks. The smell alone confirmed it was the same mouthwatering aroma drifting through the air.

  Closing my eyes, I tossed it into my mouth.

  The taste reminded me of roast beef, with a slight fishy undertone. The texture was very chewy, but the longer I chewed, the softer it became. And the stat buffs gave it pep, making me feel a bit stronger and sharpening my eyesight.

  Now I could see the people even more clearly, and let me tell you, when I say they were partying, it was no exaggeration. These folks were getting wasted like it was a playoff baseball game, and their team was up by four runs.

  At the table, elevated a few steps above the celebrating crowd, sat Jessa. Next to her were Zeviir and the other chiefs. At the far end, on the left side, was Cashius, and beside him was an empty spot meant for me.

  I made my way up, bowed my head, and sat. The cushions sank beneath me, their soft fabric as smooth as silk. I rubbed my hands over them, careful to avoid Cashius’s gaze.

  Jessa looked over at me, dressed in a fresh outfit that made her look like royalty. She placed a hand over her chest, followed by Zeviir, who nodded in acknowledgment.

  I smiled, hand covering my face. “It’s all very nice,” I said over the festive noise.

  “Enjoy,” she shouted, tipping her jeweled cup toward me.

  We ate and drank for a bit, me ignoring Cashius’s pleas to talk, Sparks sitting there with a face full of grease and a small leaf filled with drink.

  Moments laster Jessa rose to her feet, the smile she wore radiant. The looking accompanying it solemn.

  “Please, join me,” she said.

  I rose and took my place beside her, head held low as nervous energy radiated from my body.

  She grabbed my chin and lifted my head.

  When her hand left my face, I looked out at the crowd. They stood silent as a calmness enveloped me.

  Sparks drifted to my shoulder and took a seat, as she liked to do. Relaxation pulsed between us as Jessa addressed the tribe.

  “Today, we celebrate a gracious kill that will feed us for months, supply us with fabrics for more tents, dyes to color our cloths, and poisons to administer to our enemies. But today is different. This day, we welcome a stranger among us. Though dressed in clothes we don’t see often, he comes with a wish we all hope he can fulfill,” she said.

  “This young man promised me and the other chiefs that he would slay our greatest foe, unite the Stones of Orbralis, and purge the land of the malevolent one with no name.” She paused, glancing in my direction. “But to do that, he needs both protection from Linuux and knowledge of his location. Though I could tell him where Linuux is now, without protection from that creature’s mind control, he wouldn’t survive a single day. Once he passes the Covenant of Blades and proves himself worthy of our trust, he will be granted the necessary protection.”

  It was so silent you could hear the other chieftains breathing.

  “If he succeeds, we will reveal the pathway, and he will be off to face Linuux. If he fails, the desert will kill him. To wish him luck, I ask that you lift your drinks to him and show him both respect and support.” She lifted her cup. “To Lamont, the visitor from afar. May he move like a sand viper and slay every beast on his path of righteousness. Respect is shared.”

  “Respect is shared!” the crowd shouted back.

  I picked up a cup, letting the sound of the crowd wash over me, then I downed it in one go.

  The tribe erupted in celebration, tossing swords and shooting arrows into the sky.

  When they calmed, I gave my thanks and returned to my seat.

  That was when the alcoholic drinks started flowing, a potent brew made from the juice of desert plants and some other substance I couldn’t name.

  At first, I thought the brew was weak, but after a few cups, I couldn’t stand on my own.

  Sparks sat on the table, drinking from an empty nut she had flown over with, her head bobbing on her shoulders like a bobblehead.

  She lifted her drink, and I mimicked her, and together we toasted to life and freedom.

  Through it all, Cashius and I never shared a word. Only glances conveyed everything about how we felt toward each other in that moment.

  But that soon changed.

  Now drunk and far more open, I spoke about how I felt, even shedding a few tears over his keeping things from me.

  He clapped me on the back. “Boneheaded boy, I didn’t do it on purpose.” His head drooped. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to upset the Mir—,” He cut himself off and handed me a drink. “From now I will try to speak up from now on.”

  I hiccupped and grabbed the cup, slurring. “Okay, Old Man, but with this being the second time you pulled this, if you do it again, we are splitting up, and I will go at this game alone.”

  He looked at me. “Agreed.”

  For the rest of the night, the crowd sang songs until a commotion broke out.

  I squinted, trying to focus, and could just make out a young woman dressed like Nefa, arguing with Zeviir. Their words were too quick, laced with idioms I could not follow, but their faces told the story well enough.

  The young woman smirked and stormed off. Too drunk to do anything but smile, I collapsed onto the table and blacked out.