Glass or Diamond: Fairy's Wish

Some believe a name is all a person has with any real value. It is their very definition in the world; how the world sees them, how people speak of them, and the legacy of their existence when they pass.

To some, a name is as good as gold when making deals. It carries with it reputation, and that reputation can be exchanged for tangible goods and favor.

One man possesses a legendary name in a world full of monsters. He is the slayer of those monsters, regardless of what they are. He fears nothing and can defeat anything that brings dread or terror to the innocent.

And, he never mentions his name unless he’s asked.

Another man bears the name at every chance he gets, living in the shadow of the legend, but reaping the benefits of the fame.

One has a beat up helmet, scrapped-together armor pieces on his arms and legs, and a shovel in his hands.

The other has a legendary sword -probably enhanced by magic-, shining, polished armor splattered with blood and dirt from only the most recent events, and a long flowing knight’s cape.

Everyone else present is rooting for the man with the shovel; the true owner of a legendary knight’s name. Especially rooting for him is the young fairy named Lykha.

“WHERE IS IT BURIED!? SHE BURIED IT SOMEWHERE! WHERE IS IT!?”

Several more poor-looking villagers with basic tools have been cut down as they march through town. They find the group, consisting of a bunch more of the villagers armed with simple tools as a crazed human warrior holds a dagger to a young woman’s neck with his sword across her chest.

Lykha whispers, “You tracked him here… didn’t you?”

“I hoped to tell him the job’s done.”

The man holding the hostage is none other than the imposter calling himself Murtoa of Lakia.

Coco whispers, “‘E’s a goob, sure, but why this?”

Maerin replies softly, “Wealth and power make people monsters.”

Lykha asks Mury, “Mury… W-will you help her?”

“No.” He looks at the trio. “I’ll deal with him, though.”

She smiles. “I understand. Coco, try to get me as close as possible. And when I start saying my spell, cover your eyes.”

Coco nods.

Imposter Murtoa shouts ferociously, “I’M DONE PLAYING THIS GAME! TELL ME WHERE IT IS NOW, OR SHE DIES!”

“We don’t know! Please, sir! Calm down!”

“I know where it is.” Mury steps forward with the shovel. “I was on my way to tell you.”

“Really? You must think I’m stupid.”

“On my way to dig it up now.”

Murtoa stares at Mury with hateful and skeptical eyes. The warrior takes his normal stance; “If you’re busy, I’ll be going now. Just thought I’d do the courtesy.” Mury starts to turn away, and Murtoa growls, still refusing to release the woman. The imposter keeps the woman close, and some of the villagers accusingly accost Mury.

But, even Lykha can see what he did. Murtoa’s focus is now entirely on the mysterious man wearing a beaten up helmet.

This gives Coco the opportunity to move to the front of the crowd, and Lykha murmurs her spell quickly, readying her hands.

She claps them together, flashing the blinding light.

Surprisingly, Maerin flies forward using her wings. Most of the villagers and Murtoa flinch from being blinded. It won’t last long, but it allows enough time for Maerin to reach the dagger. The mature fairy, who has no reason to get involved, bites the man’s hand, causing him to sling his hand away.

And, loosen his grip on his dagger. This gives the woman enough leverage to free herself from his sword arm, launching herself to the sand and crawling away. She’s blinded as well, but she is able to escape the imposter Murtoa.

Mury grips her by the arm, and she starts to panic, but he simply launches her into the crowd to get out of the way. He waves Maerin back, and she flies back towards Coco, landing on the ground when she can no longer stay in the air. She jogs clear of the brewing fight arena.

Lykha says quickly, “Coco, get your shocker and-...”

“No,” states Mury sternly. He looks over his shoulder to shake his head at her.

Murtoa shakes his head clear, squinting as he holds his dagger and sword each at the ready. He snarls angrily, “I’m going to kill all of you.”

Mury readies the shovel like it’s the same as his polearm. He retorts, “Better start with me, then.”

“I’m a knight, you pathetic peasant. A monster slayer. You’re nothing!”

“Yep.”

Lykha is enraged. She wants to scream, but Mury’s simple answer disarms her. As always, he’s neither worried nor afraid. There’s no doubt imposter-Murtoa is a skilled fighter, and that he’s likely earned at least some of the fame he claims from Mury’s name. He’s also much less injured than Mury.

Several villagers charge forward, and Mury calls out, “NO!”

He’s unheard as the angered villagers think they have their chance and numbers.

Murtoa is hard to follow with his fluid, fast motions that slash through the villagers like wheat. The six men that charged him fall in almost as few seconds, and a grim silence falls over the crowd.

Murtoa says coldly, “I’m walking away with every coin of that million if I have to take it one coin at a time from every villager in this god-forsaken desert.”

Mury’s gaze is on the youngest villager cut down; a teen boy who tried to defend his village from an attacker.

A human knight of Lakia grips a shovel with determination. His resolve is solid. And, for the first time, something feels off about him.

He is angry.

His voice is almost alien with how viciously cold his tone is.

“You’re not walking away.”

Lykha’s heart pounds as the two warriors stare each other down.

Murtoa makes the first move. He lunges forward with a roar, swinging his sword wide. Mury’s counter isn’t a direct parry. He instead swoops the shovel quickly and fluidly, batting the sword upwards as he swoops himself low. Mury’s motion brings him dangerously close to Murtoa’s dagger, which the imposter brings downard. But, Mury never stops moving. His spin carries him around, and he slams Murtoa in the back with the shovel, placing Mury behind Murtoa as the latter stumbles.

Murtoa hums angrily, and he whirls, swinging his sword viciously. Mury skillfully ducks backwards, careful to only parry the flat edge of the sword with the shovel. The two trade several swings before Mury strikes a powerful blow on Murtoa’s left hand with the dagger. However, as he tries to spin back around to swing another powerful blow, Murtoa surprises him by throwing the dagger with a quickness.

Lykha gasps when the dagger slashes past Mury’s neck, drawing blood. But, he stays focused, swinging the shovel down. Murtoa manages to catch the shaft, but Mury pulls the blade hard, yanking it free of the imposter’s grip.

Coco cheers, “Merc this goob, ‘Bando! He go’a gol’water for a thinkin’ blob!”

Murtoa, with a free hand now, shakes his left hand briefly to relieve the pain, and then grips the sword with both hands. Mury shifts his grip to a quarter-staff grip and waits.

Murtoa taunts, “Your little tart’s pretty new to fighting, isn’t she? Sure you don’t want to switch to your sword?”

“You’ve insulted a lot of people.”

Murtoa cocks his head, obviously expecting a taunt or rebuttal.

Lykha instinctively grips Coco’s hair. She wishes she could have Coco’s confidence in Mury, but she’s worried for him. He’s the core of her survival and her closest friend right now.

Mury earns the reputation of the legendary knight, however. He and Murtoa trade more daunting blows, with Murtoa relying on his armor and the strength of his sword, while Mury relies on his agility, speed, and conserving energy. None of his attacks have been full-power swings. Murtoa has more than once tried to cleave Mury or the shovel in singular swings, which Mury only barely avoided.

A flash of hope brightens Lykha’s outlook when Mury parries the sword down into the sand before swinging an attack of his own that chops into Murtoa’s underarmor at the right collar, causing the imposter to curse and stumble back.

Blood appears, quickly staining the undersuit from a fairly large-looking wound.

“Lucky hit, peasant. But, luck can take you only so far.”

Coco taunts, “‘Luck’ yer pantcheeks, goob! ‘Bando gon’ make monsty bait o’ you!”

Murtoa spits, “Quiet, fulge. I’ll deal with you next.”

“No’ happ’nin’! ‘Bando yer worst sleeplife, goob! Nice knowin’ you!” The teen snickers deviously.

Murtoa grits his teeth in anger, glaring at Mury, who -other than his air of cold anger- shows no concern.

Murtoa roars and kicks sand towards Mury. Mury’s helmet easily protects his face, but he also doesn’t fall for the diversion. He hops sideways, swinging outside of Murtoa’s attack. Murtoa whirls and swings again.

This time, he predicted the rugged knight’s movement. The shovel snaps in half with ease, leaving two pieces of shovel in Mury’s hands.

Again, Lykha gasps. She grips Coco’s hair instinctively.

Mury is far from defeated, though. He throws the handle-only end of the shovel without hesitation, and Murtoa deflects it with a short swat of his sword. He then dodges when the shovel blade spins by like a thrown dagger.

Just as he’s readying to move, though, Mury kicks a long-handled tool up into his own grip, twirling it much like his polearm. This tool has a sickle-like blade, but at an angle, and its blade has mud stains on it as well.

Mury keeps the sickle moving in twirling motions, flowing all around him. This takes some of the confidence out of Murtoa’s posture, and the imposter shifts his stance. His left hand has the dominant grip on his sword now, given his injury. Still, though, his skill is ambidextrous, and he parries Mury’s first attack. Mury’s rhythm is fast, though, and he keeps the blade bouncing and swooping in, forcing Murtoa to defend continuously. He tries several times to stop Mury long enough to slash the sickle blade off, but Mury’s aim is impeccable. Blades ping and shriek with sparks. Murtoa’s is the superior blade by a lot, but the thick metal of the sickle is holding up.

Mury, however, is clearly the better improvised fighter. Just as Murtoa blocks a swing of the sickle, a sand rake nearly clubs his face. Mury drove the imposter knight back and skillfully kicked the rake up into his hand, even as he kept the fight fluid with the sickle. Now, Mury is wielding two long weapons, and his skill seems to shift. He swings each of the long weapons at varying heights with continuous motions, and again, Murtoa has to switch how he was defending.

Deciding he can’t simply parry and defeat Mury, Murtoa dives away in a roll, spinning back to his feet. Mury doesn’t charge, possibly expecting Murtoa’s defense. The imposter knight attempts to lunge and spear his sword forward, but Mury is able to avoid by lunging back.

Murtoa manages to take the offensive, and Mury tries to avoid blade strikes with his improvised weapons. The rake falls first, chopped clean off by Murtoa’s blade, and Mury twirls the sickle across his back, gripping it to slash at Murtoa from the other side. He gets another wounding blow on Murtoa, and the swordsman stumbles back, clutching his side. He checks his hand with a groan, finding blood from his waist. He growls angrily, returning his grip to his sword as he flexes.

“I hate you.”

“Yep.”

Another short bout, and this time, Mury takes a slash across his left shoulder. Lykha cries out, “Mury!”

“Your fairy’s wish will make a nice consolation, you pathetic wannabe.”

Mury says nothing, but this time, he engages. With a quickness, Murtoa parries and slashes, and the sickle loses its blade. Murtoa follows with a whirling slash, and Mury narrowly dives backwards onto his back, though his forearm gauntlet gets slashed clean through and blood sprays to the side.

Murtoa doesn’t hesitate to pin Mury to the ground with a boot, and Coco, Lykha, and Maerin all cry out this time, “MURY!”

The imposter stabs his sword down, piercing through Mury’s shirt with ease into his chest, given pause only by the warrior’s ribcage. This halts Mury with a grunt before he could wrench Murtoa off of him.

“I told you, I’m going to kill you all. You should’ve brought real armor. Not that it would have helped.”

Lykha cries out, “Coco! Do something!”

Murtoa points, “You three are next, you tramps! I am Sir Murtoa of Lakia! Monster slayer and conqueror of armies!”

Mury murmurs through pain, “You… really should… stop insulting people…”

“Yeah? What are-...”

Mury’s movements weren’t necessarily hidden, but no one was paying attention. He pulled something out of his pocket. And, when he touched it to the back of the imposter Murtoa’s knee, the armored warrior’s joint became a fatal weakness.

A loud crackling pop snaps the air, and it interrupts Murtoa’s taunt. He is launched forward in a helplessly-compelled step from his muscles tightening, and Mury’s body also jumps in response. Murtoa falls to his knees, crying out in infuriated pain.

Meanwhile, Mury barely resists the sword puncturing much deeper, shoving it up into the air while he spins acrobatically back to his feet. He catches the sword’s hilt, swinging powerfully with both hands at the back of Murtoa’s neck.

Murtoa’s neck armor absorbs most of the blow, saving his life.

But, only his life.

Blood splashes across the blade as the neck plate shatters, and Murtoa is slammed face down into the sand. He coughs, spitting out blood. He catches his breath a moment, but it quickly becomes clear that he can’t move his limbs, and his breathing is labored.

Mury exhales in a controlled manner. He states more normally, much of his chilling anger having cooled, “Insults tend to return.”

“W-... What did you do to me…?”

Mury coughs as Coco runs to his side with the other two in tow.

“What else? Your own sword to the back of your neck.” He coughs again, adding, “I meant to take your head in one blow, though. My apologies.”

Murtoa wheezes. He whimpers softly, “Please… heal me… I know I don’t deserve it, but please… don’t let me die like this. I’m a monster slayer. I-... I’ve protected many people.”

Lykha looks at Mury.

Coco hisses, “You’ nothin’ bu’ a tur’blastin’ coward! You lef’ yer frien’s to be gobbled by the solaghoul!”

Maerin grumbles, “If we’re tallying offenses, his crew never paid me…”

Lykha murmurs, “We can be the merciful ones, though. I… I can heal him… At least stop it from getting-...”

Mury states bluntly, “It’s not a vote.” He steps over Murtoa, straddling his shoulders. He lifts the sword, holding it with the point down.

“Mury, wait…”

“I’ve said it many times. Who I am doesn’t change.”

Murtoa pleads, “Please, don’t… I’m sorry! Y-you can have all of my stuff! Please let me live! I beg you! Y-You know me! I’m the legendary monster slayer Murtoa of Lakia! I can’t be killed like this!”

“Everyone dies. And, there are too many monsters in the world.”

The girls all flinch and look away, and the coup de grace is finished with a tell-tale sound of the blade piercing sand.

But then, a voice that isn’t Mury’s coughs.

When they look, they find that Mury speared the sword into the sand next to Murtoa’s neck.

Mury explains, “You murdered eight villagers for greed. Your fate belongs to the survivors, not to me. I won’t kill you, but I won’t help you.”

Mury takes the sword with him, disarming Murtoa of any blades he has. Murtoa can do nothing to stop it.

Mury fastens the scabbard for Murtoa’s sword next to Kolaya’s and wipes the blood off on his sleeve before sheathing it. He walks calmly past the few villagers that approached once the battle ended.

Lykha calls after him, “Wait! C-can I heal him?”

“Do what you want.” He keeps walking without looking back.

Coco starts to follow him, but Lykha says, “Wait… Can you put me down next to him, please?” She points at the imposter.

The teen sighs, but she complies, though not without attitude, of course. “Dis goob deserves worse ‘an he go’.”

Lykha replies calmly as she walks weakly to the human imposter, “I know.”

She performs her healing spell on his neck, which works to close the wound. She explains, “There, you shouldn’t bleed out now.”

“I wish I was all-powerful…” murmurs the imposter.

Lykha cocks her head. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

She scoffs and snickers, “No.” She stands up, and the human tries to rise aggressively, saying menacingly, “You will grant my-...”, but his arms give out like wet noodles.

“I’m new to magic. You won’t bleed out, but I would need more time to heal your paralysis.”

One of the villagers walks up. Anger is clear in his voice, but he says coldly, “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of him.”

Maerin asks dryly, “Anyone going to judge me if I search his pockets?”

Lykha starts to gasp, but she halts herself. Coco is a little more honest, “I don’ like griftin’, but we all gotta keep our ticka’s tickin’, righ’?”

Lykha nods in agreement, and Maerin says, “Thank you…” The villagers nod as well, and Maerin hops down to search the imposter.

“Get off of me, you harlot…”

“That I may be, but I’m one that finally has some muscle.” She finds his coin pouch, taking only a few of his coins -including a single gold coin- and then returning the pouch to his side.

“You might as well take all of it,” advises the villager that is standing over them.

“No. Just what he owed me. That’s all.” She smiles and bows. “Take care.” She then walks with Coco as the teen carries Lykha again.

“Don’t leave me here! Th-These peasants will-...”

“Mury was right,” warns Lykha. “You really should stop insulting people.”

She murmurs softer, “And he really is far greater than you could ever be.”

Coco nods in agreement. “‘Bando ge’s more an’ more goobable every day.”

Lykha chuckles warmly, petting Coco’s head gently. She remarks to Maerin though, “No offense, Maerin, but I’m kinda surprised you helped that woman.”

Maerin looks down, replying, “Believe it or not, Lykha… I was an adventurer when I learned alchemy. Got lucky for many years.”

Lykha retorts gently, “Mury isn’t like that.”

“I’m a fairy, Lykha. I know…”

“I know you are. But, this is more. You didn’t see what I saw when we met… Mury’s always like… Mury. But… he cares…”

“Just… be careful, okay? Trust is a fairy’s greatest weakness.”

Lykha nods.

The three find Mury sitting on the hood of the sand rail while being briefly sutured by Gyrryth. Coco says, “‘Ey! Da’s ‘Bando’s futu’e wifey’s job, Gyrryth! Hands off!”

The lizardman scoffs and chuckles. “Apologies, Fiery One. I prioritized our dear Mury’s safety.”

“Mury?” asks Lykha.

“Hm?” He looks at her.

“Thank you… for sparing him… Even if it was meaningless…”

He nods once.

She smiles. “Did… you hate him? For… using your name?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just a name.”

“But…”

The young fairy sighs. She knows the conversation won’t actually go anywhere. “Then… Why were you worried about him insulting us?”

The warrior stares at her for a moment. He seems dumbfounded. “No reason to be disrespectful.”

She smiles, while Coco says, “Gab no hur’ me, but it was awesome how you bea’ him wit nothin’ more than ground whackas and landscapas.”

Maerin asks, “Why DID you do that? Why not use Kolaya’s sword? And why did you wave us off?”

“He wasn’t a bandit. You were lucky you were able to save the girl. Good work, though.”

“Thanks. You still haven’t said why no sword, though.”

He sighs.

Picking up Mury’s hesitation, Gyrryth replies, “Perhaps, Murtoa did not want sully the honor of a family blade with the blood of a coward.”

The three girls look at Mury, and he looks away. Is he ashamed? Or, is he embarrassed?

“Mury?”

“A blade forged in honor must be drawn in honor, or it loses all meaning.” He draws Kolaya’s blade, holding it up to study the inscriptions. “I don’t know her father, but I now know her.” He returns the blade to its sheath, finishing, “Not my place to dishonor an honorable blade.”

Lykha murmurs, “I didn’t take you for the honorable type. Kind, for certain, but…”

“I’m not. Honorable man wouldn’t have disrespected a man with his own sword.”

Maerin remarks, “Taking concern over something like that kinda proves the point.” Lykha and Coco nod in agreement.

The warrior scoffs. He pulls out the shocker from his pocket, and he hands it to Coco, “This served me well. Thank you. If you would, ensure the batteries are replaced. In the meantime, you think you can drive that?”

The other four look at the sand cruiser Mury gestures at. It’s a sand cruiser painted blue and equipped with advanced gear.

Coco asks skeptically, “You askin’ me ta grift ‘at, Love?”

“Is that a problem?”

“You askin’ me ta jump a desert sprou’, Love.”

Gyrryth replies ironically, “Technically, it does belong to Murtoa of Lakia.”

Mury adds, “And, I suspect the owner no longer needs it.”

“Gyrryth has him a fine think. I’ll do it.” She steps up to point sternly at Mury’s helmet, “But keep ‘is in min’ Love.”

“What’s that?”

She smiles, kissing the forehead of his helmet. She grins and says, “Okie, Bae. Time to…”

“You three can ride in the cruiser. It’ll be safer from the elements and a smoother ride. Gyrryth and I will drive the sand rails.”

“You intend to sell that, don’t you?” asks Lykha.

“The sand cruiser? Was planning on it.”

“Every town in the desert is broke right now. Who do you intend to sell it to?”

Gyrryth replies, “If we stay on this north-bound course, we should find the trail of a Great Snail, if memory serves. Are you thinking one of the cities, Sir Murtoa?”

Mury shakes his head, “Not specifically. We’ll move out of the desert. See if we can find a broker before we reach the northern hills. I’d prefer to avoid the cities themselves, if we can.”

“Any particular reason?” asks Lykha.

Mury replies quietly, “Of the five of us, only one will be welcome; him.” He nods at Gyrryth.

Surprised, Gyrryth asks, “You think so?”

Mury nods. “I’m sure.” He redirects the conversation, “So, you’ll drive it?” He looks at Coco.

“Leave it to me, Love! Nothin’ the bes’ techromancer can’t han’le.”

“Good. We’ll leave in a few minutes if everyone’s ready.”

“Are you?” asks Lykha.

He nods, “Of course. Not my first duel.”

Coco asks, “Serious ask, Love; if Boss-machen’s slasha too goodie-shine for goobs, is fake goob’s slasha your shineless slasha?”

“Why would it be? It’s just a sword.”

“How’s hers no’, then?”

Mury doesn’t know how to explain himself, and Lykha murmurs tenderly, “She asked for it to be.”

He nods, and she feels a warm well of pride that she knows him this well already.

Gyrryth remarks, “A mighty fine sword, I might say. Sharpness enhancements, it seems.”

Mury nods. “Armor breaker, specifically. Probably for armored monsters.”

“Indeed. It could come in handy if we face off against a dragon.”

Lykha growls with irritation, “Don’t even joke about them, Gyrryth. That’s not funny. Mury said they’re not real. Right Mury? Dragons aren’t real.”

“I never said that…”

“LIE TO ME MURY! Please?”

He stands up, saying with a small sigh, “We don’t have to worry about dragons. Even if there are still any, we have nothing they would want.”

Maerin asks curiously as her cheeks start to fill with color, “You ever face a dragon, Mury?”

“No. And I wouldn’t want to. By the tales, they’re worse than anything I have.” He then climbs into the sand rail, saying, “We’re heading north, Coco. I won’t leave until the cruiser runs.”

She grins, “I woul’ hope no’, Love! Give me but a half a tock!”

Lykha says to the human warrior, “Be careful, Mury.”

He nods, and Coco jogs for the imposter’s sand cruiser. Mury says to Maerin as she starts to follow, “Take care of them. Lykha’s good with Coco, but Coco can be headstrong.”

Maerin pauses for a moment in surprise. “They’ll probably be fine, but… If you would…”

She nods, “We’ll be fine.”

He nods again as well. She makes her way onto the sand cruiser, and Coco is already hitting buttons and switches.

Gyrryth asks quietly as Mury watches the three until Coco manages to close the ramp, “What is north that we are destined for?”

Murtoa replies, “Distance.”

“Distance? We are fleeing something?”

“A hydrophilic colossus was driven into a desert. The southern mountain range isn’t a defended position.”

“You think the southerners will try to invade again?”

“I don’t think they have a choice.”

“What’s down there, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Nothing our companions want to deal with. We’ll work our way northward towards the forestlands.”

“Hmm, I see. A little easier to survive, I suppose. Not much left here in the desert for a professional colossus slayer, hm?”

Murtoa nods.

“Do they know?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re the only true one?”

“Anyone can kill colossi. It’s not easy, but I didn’t slay the solaghoul alone.”

Gyrryth nods, “But you must realize, your name carries weight for a reason.”

“Even if I am the only one who accepts the task, I will accept it. Someone has to.”

“Indeed.”

Coco is able to get the imposter Murtoa’s sand cruiser running, and they embark northward, headed inevitably for the next town, and then further still.

During the break in this next town, Murtoa trades for some plating that he works into simple plating to reform his armor -baffling to his companions for why he won’t just trade for armor itself-, but he does it during their breaks. They replenish supplies, though the sand cruiser was well stocked for a party of over five.

The next sight is the impressive one, though. As they continue on their northbound path, Mury slows the group to a stop at what appears to be a wide valley with a shimmering bottom. The bottom is almost perfectly flat and smooth as well, almost as if the valley floor is formed of glass and is seemingly miles wide.

Lykha -whose back is finally feeling well enough for her to move around more normally-, asks Murtoa, “What is this?”

“An obstacle.”

She puffs her cheeks in irritation, but Gyrryth replies, “It’s the trail left behind by one of the Great Snails."

Coco’s and Lykha’s mouths both drop open. Coco asks skeptically, “You gabbin’ a monsty cut the desert li’e tha’!?”

Gyrryth nods, “They carry entire cities on their backs, and are believed to be the largest creatures in the world.”

“I mean… I get tha’ Mury’s monsty’s are big… but…”

Lykha asks breathlessly, “How can… What does something so big eat?”

“Everything,” murmurs Maerin. “‘S’why towns don’t grow very big on the ground.”

Murtoa nods in agreement.

“Edge doesn’t look that steep, though. Won’t we be able to cross?” asks Lykha innocently.

“Depends how long ago the snail past. Last rainfall in the area. And…” Gyrryth is wise, but one of the group focuses on one thing.

“Lernaetodes.” Murtoa points, and Lykha nearly misses it entirely. A small-looking mound of sand moves briefly before the sand flattens back out.

“Wh-What is it?” asks Lykha cautiously as the others watch the sand diligently.

“Parasites to the snails, typically. They shed with the slime. They can live for about two weeks, and will attack anything that touches them.”

Gyrryth adds, “Indeed. They’re often nicknamed ‘Ambusher Hydras’ or ‘Desert Caltrops’.”

“They’re… gigantic, aren’t they?” Lykha would swear the sand mound she saw move was no bigger than her head, but it was so far away, it could be as big as a human or more.

“They’re not small,” states Murtoa bluntly.

“So… do we cross? Turn back? Try to find a way around?”

He sighs. “No. There won’t be any villages to make it viable. We need to cross.”

Maerin sips from the small flask she got in the last town, asking wearily, but drunkenly uninterested, “Any reason we can’t camp ‘til they die off?”

Murtoa looks down, thinking. He replies, “There’s the risk they might discover us, but it’s lower than the risk one of our vehicles will hit one trying to cross.”

Coco asks unusually seriously, “Wha’ if we jus’ head back to that las’ bundle and wait it out?”

Gyrryth replies, “Until we can exchange items for coin, we can’t afford an extended stay at an inn.”

Murtoa says plainly, “Probably our best bet is to move away from the trail, whatever we choose. Lernaetodes don’t often venture out of the trail, but it’s not unheard of.”

Lykha says with a smile, “Sounds safe to me.”

“Are you three still comfortable in the cruiser?”

Coco scoffs, “Comfy? We ridin’ in lux’ry, Love! Be a nice hidey to snug in.” She winks deviously at him.

“Good. Let’s get moving then.”

The human warrior climbs back into the sand rail as Gyrryth makes for his, and the three girls walk towards the sand cruiser.

That’s as far as it goes, however.

A deep, foreboding groan fills the air as the sand rumbles under Murtoa’s sand rail. He looks at Lykha for a split second.

And then, he’s gone.

************************************