We set off on our dreadfully slow way; the marsh was no friend to the wounded. Each step was a slow negotiation with earth that shifted and sucked at my sandalled heels — impossible to know whether the swamp’s black water hid firm ground or open water. Alator shouldered most of my weight, with a hand on my hip. As we stepped, I felt his effort as well. The wounds on his back and sides had mostly closed, but were shining red and beaded blood whenever we missed a step. My spear doubled as a crutch, biting into my palm as I leaned on it to move forwards.

  // SYS : You gained 79 XP for defeating the Gloaming Angler. You now have 108 and need 144 total for the next Level. //

  For some time, even this far into the day, the fog clung stubbornly to the low ground, curling into gnarled tree roots and dense reeds. Above, the suns burned red and yellow, but their warmth was accosted by the dour foulness of the place, as if the hate filling the place shunted out their light.

  Lenya stayed close, her sharp, bright grey eyes scanning the still pools for movement, her robes, still quite damp, hung heavy on her small frame. Akishen took point, the thin blue lines on her face moving as her thin nose sniffed the air, always alert, her unburdened and fresh movements deft and noiseless. Mostly, she found us a safe path.

  I heard nothing beyond our own sludgy trudging, but every so often a faint ripple or hollow splash teased the edge of my hearing and had me strain to turn. I never saw anything.

  “Stick to the reeds,” Akishen muttered back to us. “Dryer ground . . . usually.”

  We veered closer to a line of thin, spindly trees. In the distance, through the thinning haze, I saw the faint line of the trade road — worn and sunken, but blessedly solid.

  Almost there.

  The last half mile passed hard. Multiple times either I or Alator stomped into deep water and had to pull the other out. A deep cut on his side beaded red and streamed blood onto his white loin cloth, but he just shrugged it off and kept moving.

  Lenya’s mood switched from genuine and almost cloying concern to a dark, brooding silence.

  She was utterly useless in that fight, my thoughts were tinged with irritation, and my attempts to go easy on her came up against the brick wall of pain and discomfort with every step. She needs to be more careful. She’s four levels above me and has two Skills above Level 3. Maybe she needs to be less careful. . . . She needs to pull her weight.

  At long last, the ground dried, firmed up, and turned to dust and wheel-rutted ground once more. Stepping onto the trade road, I bathed for a few moments in the suns’ light and felt the warmth quickly turn to itching heat. Still, I felt soothed, like a weight had lifted from my shoulders and a miasma had cleared from my mind. It was slightly easier to settle my emotions, but I still felt daggers from the wounds and the prickling of anger.

  An hour or so later, Lenya came to my side and tugged bashfully on my Linothorax.

  “I —” she started, but didn’t finish.

  “I know what you’re going to say, Lenya. I may put it in less stern words than I’m sure your own admonishment has, but it’s true: we need to work better as a team.”

  Her bright grey eyes lit up, imagining what I said was tantamount to forgiveness.

  “You know, you’re less blunt recently,” she said. “I quite like it.”

  “I’m choosing my words carefully,” I shot back. A bundle of impatient energy welled in my heart, and I took off ahead.

  I heard a light, “Oh. . . .” from behind me.

  With the marsh far away to our left, the suns moved down overhead to the east, settling down over the jungle trees. The trade road stretched ahead, and though we stepped mostly onto packed dirt, there were some stone paving slabs underfoot. Its uneven surface was riddled with cracks and half-swallowed by tufts of dry grass. The Korr Jungle had become more sparse, its dense canopy thinning as the terrain subtly shifted. Thick-rooted trees with sprawling, heavy branches gave way to slimmer trunks and sparser foliage.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The undergrowth around us dwindled to low shrubs and patches of red, wiry grass that clung loosely to the drier soil, dark brown but almost red, with golden patches like the land between the Breathing Sands and the Korr Jungles. The air grew less humid, carrying dust and a faint metallic tang of sun-warmed stone. Rocks, small at first, soon dotted the path in irregular clusters. The ever-present chatter of the jungle faded, replaced by the occasional caw of a distant bird and the sighing whispers of a faint, cooling breeze, which I was very grateful for under the suns.

  Soon, our shadows stretched longer, and the setting suns cast the horizon ahead in a hazy orange light. There, rising gently, was the faint outline of the mountain pass that would eventually lead to Uruk. It called us onwards, and the party trudged on, weary yet buoyed by the firmer ground and clear skies, and a haze of security that I knew — knowing Barbican as I did — was likely false.

  Only twice through the eight hours or so we walked along the path did we run into other people. First, a group of Vyneshi who eyed us suspiciously as we passed. They called to Akishen in their tongue but, receiving no response, muttered darkly amongst themselves and passed us by.

  Second, an hour or so before twilight, a caravan drew close to us — two ox-drawn wagons, laden with crates and barrels and bundles of woven fabrics under thick jute covers. Leading it were two figures, one clearly a felid-folk from Uruk — the first I’d seen; sleek black fur and piercing green eyes out of a panther-like face. She moved quickly, as if prowling, every step and motion quick as she barks orders to the labourers driving the oxen.

  “Hail,” I raised a hand as they neared. I shrugged Alator off and leant on my spear.

  The trader flinched, not expecting any interaction. City-folk are the same here, I thought with a sigh.

  “Grreetings, trravellers,” she purred with a false smile. She spoke with a melodic voice, hard syllables and rolled ‘r’s.

  “Coming from Uruk? How’s the way?”

  “Fairr. . . . Look, this mission has already been delayed too much and we’re trying to make up time, so . . .”

  “Guess Uruk didn’t go untouched by the Scouring,” I said.

  The felid-folk blinked, long black eyelashes shuddering. Her eyes were yellow and bright, even in the dimming light of the setting suns.

  “The same happened in Ith-Korr, then? . . . Untouched? Hardly.” She stopped fully next to me and patted her travelling clothes down, then split her black-blue face in a wide, salesman grin, showing long fangs. “They came during the Games — bat-demons swarrming the skies like shadows made flesh. But Uruk is no stranger to warr. Our council was ready. We finished them without too much bother.”

  “You fared better than Ith-Korr,” I said, frowning. “The whole city nearly came down.”

  The trader sighed, though it was more like a passive growl. “Ith-Korr is pretty, but jungle-folk architecture makes no sense. The city is also too isolated — no allies close enough to call upon.”

  I gritted my teeth and narrowed my eyes. Having spent so much time there, and grown close to a few of them, I felt the insult as if it were directed at me.

  “And what of Uruk? Do you think it’ll stand if they come again?”

  The trader’s broad yellow teeth were shown as a grim smirk.

  “Let them try.”

  Alator scoffed from beside me.

  “We’ll see if that pride holds when the skies darken again.”

  The trader turned to him incredulous, but widened her eyes.

  “You know more than you say.”

  “I know it does not end with one attack,” Alator spat.

  “I see,” the trader brought herself to full height and indicated to the ox-drivers to carry on, then shrugged. “Then may the gods give us strength.”

  Once they were far behind us, Alator made to lift my weight again, but I pushed him back.

  “I’m fine.”

  He nodded. Then he blew out his lungs. Agitated, he mumbled, making a short prophecy:

  “The surety of this place. . . . This kindling world will burn.”

  I tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Lighten up. That’s what we’re here to prevent.”

  He scoffed again and started off on the trade road again, leading the way.

  “We’ll settle near here,” said Akishen as the last light was thrown stark red over the dome of the world. “Don’t enjoy the prospect of being accosted on the road, but the wilds here are fully untamed. Choice is yours.”

  Lenya was lost in thought and didn’t hear. Alator pretended not to. I shrugged.

  “Okay. . . .” Akishen gazed around for a moment, I imagined making use of her [Survivalism], and pointed to a rocky outcrop, shaded beneath one of the last broad trees. I thought that I should start using mine — could barely suppress the excitement — but I decided she knew this land much better than we did, had done this journey a bunch of times before, and regardless, it was better to let her have it. . . .

  Setting up camp for the second time on the trail was much like the first, with Akishen and Lenya making their beds, and Alator and I gazing on longingly at the soft wool and linen.

  I again cursed my lack of preparedness. Could have given it a moment’s thought, idiot. . . . In fairness, the most I’d hiked back on Earth was a little trail that the MegaCorp had carved out of an old industrial site, with fake trees and little corporation-approval team-building activities to do. That was before I was fired. I chuckled a little under my breath.

  To think I’d be more suited to killing than data analysis.