I half collapsed beneath the awning. Most of the others just collapsed. The mid-day heat was brutal, as it was for almost every day I had been here. I felt strength begin to return to my limbs as I heard the approach of the water bearers. The hand cart stopped and the long handled ladle dipped into the precious cask of water.

Jenera got up, but got out of my way when seeing I was moving. I got the first go at the water. The two junior templars in their yellow robes and stone topped war clubs weren’t there to stop me. They made sure that every slave got their fair share. After guzzling down enough water to sate my thirst, I lay back down to take full advantage of the rest period.

The mid-day break wasn’t a product of Hamanu’s infinitesimal mercy or the non-existent compassion of the templars. It was Hamanu’s inflexible law that the slaves who laboured in his obsidian mines be granted water and shade to rest in during the hottest part of the day. Not out of mercy, because being sent to the mines was a death sentence, but to squeeze every last drop of useful labour from the condemned. Exhaustion, heat stroke, dehydration, accident, fights, and escape attempts killed us quickly as it was. Two quinths, one hundred fifty days, was the life expectancy of slave in Urik’s obsidian pits and the obsidian was vital to Urik. The routine corruption of the templarite was not allowed to endanger it on the pain of Hamanu’s merciless wrath. Today was my one hundred and eighty-second day in the pits.
“Galmesh!” a voice cried out. I stirred and rolled over, opening my eyes. A yellow robed templar was approaching, a woman with regulator threads in her sleeves. She was almost my height with a rough, tanned face and chapped lips. Her hair was a short blond fringe. Her eyes were as hard as flint. “Get up scum,” she said. “Come with me.”

“Your will, great one,” I replied. Managing the obsidian pits wasn’t a prestige job among the templars. They weren’t a happy lot and they had no shortage of bad ways of killing a man and the nasty tempers that went with being the lowest link on the chain of petty tyrants. I followed her to the side of the pit and up a winding foot path to a platform of lashed bone and inix hide that overlooked the side of the pit.

Inside was a higher ranked templar with silver threads in his sleeves and a boy with messenger’s threads. The high ranked templar, a brawny, hairless dwarf, had a huge human bodyguard that was half a head taller than me. He wore kank shell breastplate, greaves, and vambraces and was armed with heavy club and obsidian tipped lance.

The other two were clearly a noble and his bodyguard. The noble had lightly tanned skin and was my height, a few inches over six feet. He was lean rather than muscular and wasn’t nearly as heavily built as I was. I could kill him any time I wanted. He wore a white cloak over a white sleeveless tunic and tan breeches. Strips of brown inix hide set with bone studs guarded his forearms and a bone broach held his cloak together.

His bodyguard was taller and just as lean. Points on his ears and the shape of his eyes screamed half elf to anyone with eyes. He wore a cuirass of boiled inix leather and mekillot hide greaves and vambraces. A slim sword rested in a sheath at his waist. Like his master he was dark haired, but his skin was even darker. His eyes didn’t leave me.

“Here he is,” said the high ranking templar. “As agreed.”

The noble nodded. “Your name?”

“He’s Galmesh,” said the templar irritatedly.
“I’ll have it from his own lips,” said the noble. “Your name?”

“Galmesh, my lord.”

“And your profession?”

“A miner. I was a gladiator and a guard before that.” I had been famous once, but that had been ten years ago.

The noble nodded. “And will you serve me loyally?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, hope surging in my breast. “Yes, my lord!”

“I’ll take him,” said the noble. Silver went from his hand to that the of the templar. He approached me. The female templar didn’t move. Of course. She hadn’t been paid yet.

A ceramic coin went from the noble’s hand to hers and then vanished. She backed off. “Come with me Galmesh,” he said. I fell into stride with my new owner as he headed away from the pits.

“My lord, whoever you are, I am very grateful.” That was the truth. The obsidian mines were a death sentence to all but the few who managed to ingratiate themselves to the templars that they became personal pets. Mostly that was very pretty women and boys. It certainly wasn’t me. However, just as Hamanu’s iron law mandated that slaves be rested and watered during the hottest part of the day because of our collective value, we were collectively doomed. No one would come looking for any of us and every templar here needed money to bribe his or her way into a better assignment.

He chuckled. “Good. I am embarking on a dangerous venture and I need a good bodyguard. Kestral is good, but even he is only one man.”

I stared at him for a moment and then said nothing. It seemed the wiser course. “I know who you are and what you did Galmesh and your former lord was a fool to do what he did, as well as a monster. I suspect that the rest of his family felt the same way. After all, they sent you to the pits instead of killing you in some horrifically painful manner.”

I digested what he was saying. “And you still want me?”

“I know what it takes to get you to turn and I’ll never do that,” he replied. “I will reward brave and loyal service. It’s a rare enough commodity on Athas and one that I am in need of. You’ll give it and once, you were the best in Urik.”

“My lord,” I said bowing, “I’m your man.”

We headed south and soon came to a cluster of kanks being attended by two men. They wore inix shell armour and were armed with bows, obsidian knives, and wood and stone war clubs. The kanks had saddles and carried a substantial amount of baggage. “Are these all your men, my lord?” I asked.

“No,” he replied. “The camp is several miles away. I didn’t want to spook the templars.” There was something about his voice I couldn’t place. He approached the kanks. I followed.

This was as close as I had ever gotten to a kank. I knew about them, of course, but they were forbidden within the walls of the city. They closely resembled ants, although they were chest high and around eight feet long. The kanks were placid and their shells were a dark brown. I hesitated.

My new owner swung easily into the saddle and looked over at me. He read my hesitation. “Never ridden?” he asked.

“No,” I replied.

“Just swing into the saddle. Guide it with pulls on the antennas. Start gentle. The antenna are tough, so you won’t hurt the creature unless you try to.”

I wasn’t graceful, but I got into the saddle. The kank was pretty easy to direct. It wanted to go with the rest of the kanks. I wasn’t going to be fighting from the saddle anytime soon, but I riding with a group seemed easy.

There were several weapons lashed to the side of the saddle, as well as a shield. There was six foot long spear with a bone head, an obsidian dagger, and a flint headed battle axe. They would do. I have killed a mul with my bare hands. With weapons I could kill just about anything short of the Dragon and the Dragon was dead.

We headed south and west. After a little while of the kanks travelling over the hard scrabble ground a group of men resting in the shade of a a rocky overhang came into view. There was about a score of them and they were all armed. “You men, my lord?”

“Mercenaries,” he replied. Mercenaries? Not his household soldier-slaves? No wonder he wanted another bodyguard. Two wouldn’t be enough.

I started to ask him why he was using so many mercenaries and realized that the two men with the kanks were also probably mercenaries and that the question could wait. We joined the camp and dismounted.

A man with grey in his hair and heard approached. His muscles were still hard and he was almost my size. He wore very expensive braxat hide armour and had a steel headed mace. “Lord Barius,” he said. “Welcome back. I take it you found what you were looking for?”

“Yes,” my lord replied. “It’s getting late in the day. We’ll resume the journey tomorrow.”

“As you wish,” he said with a nod of his head. The other mercenaries rejoined their comrades, leaving Kestrel and I alone with Barius.

“My lord we are outnumbered seven to one by your mercenaries and far from any help,” I said.

“I’m aware of that,” he said. “It can’t be helped. We suffered losses in a sandstorm and I need them.”

“They may have other ideas.”

“They don’t get the bulk of their payment until we return to Tyr,” he replied, “and they get a share of the loot and I’m the only one who knows where that is. They have . . . incentives to be honest.”

“Our lord is skilled in the Unseen Way,” said Kestral. That changed things. I’m sure Kestral could hold his own in a fight and I’ve lost track of the number of men I’ve killed. With a master of the Unseen Way with us that would make us a formidable team and not easy prey. Still, why did he have so few men? I had heard that there were upheavals in Tyr since they killed their king, but the truth of such matters was unknown to me.

here was some extra gear and I managed to assemble a reasonably close fitting set of inix hide armour from what remained. I donned the armour and stretched before beginning to practice with the weapons. The skills were still there, but the time spent in the obsidian pits had left me rusty. It all came back quickly as I went through the motions. The weapons sung in my hands like living things.

The scouts had managed to kill a large lizard and so I had fresh meat for the first time in half a year. I had more than my share. It was a joy to have enough to eat again and food worth eating at that. Kestral and I took turns on watch and at dawn we broke camp. We headed south and west, towards the mountains.

The bloody sun rose in the sky, hammering us with heat as we rode into the hills. The ground was dry and parched, with clusters of weeds or patches of scrub growing here and there. Our path mostly took us on paths between the hills, which meant that sometimes we had a little shade, but the rise and fall when we had to climb or descend prevented us from making good time as did the breaks to allow the kanks to forage.

At the second forage break, about noon, I urged my kank to the side, closer to Kestral. “We’re not making good time,” I said. “We should be going faster.”

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” said the half elf with a smile.

“I know enough the longer we are out in the heat the sooner we will run out of water.”

“Relax. Two of the mercenaries have an Unseen gift for water finding. And we have our lord.”

The Unseen Way is like any other skill. Everyone can do a little, but some are more talented than others, some learn faster than others, and it takes a lot of time to become really good at it. Who has the time? Survival is hard enough. And the Unseen Way is hard. So most people don’t develop their gifts very far. Some people, like nobles, can afford the time and the training. Others are talented enough to make a living at it. And some, like me and those water dowsing mercenaries, have very useful gifts.

I wasn’t comfortable. “There’s plants so there’s water and we have plenty with us,” he said. “Kanks will eat just about any damn thing and while you can’t live on their honey alone, it’s good food. Lack of food will kill us just as sure as lack of water and we’re going toward more water, not away from it.”

I was somewhat mollified. I decided to change the subject. “You’re from Tyr?”

“No,” said Kestral. “Balic.”

That explained a great deal. I remembered the day king Hamanu returned to Urik and addressed the whole city with the Unseen Way. He told us the kings of Balic, Draj, and Raam were dead as was the Dragon. Someone he named Rajaat the War Bringer was still imprisoned. Urik though, still had her king and need not fear the changes and upheavals sweeping Athas. Urik need only fear her king’s displeasure.

So said the Mighty Hamanu, Lion of Urik, King of the World. And so it was in Urik. Raam slid into civil war and anarchy, Draj got a new king, and Balic was carved up by competing factions. It wasn’t hard to figure out that my lord’s faction hadn’t done well. Which explained how he ended up hiring Tyrian mercenaries and only have a few retainers, but not what we were doing.

“So what are we looking for?”

“Treasure,” Kestral replied. “Well guarded treasure.”

“Do we know it’s there?” There were a hundred con men who would tell you about hidden treasure. They just needed an advance to properly fund the expedition and you would both be rich. Very few fools lived long enough to be taken, but all it took was one.

“Our lord confirmed it, with the Way.”

“What is his name, anyway?”

“Barius,” replied Kestral with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

The afternoon dragged on and there was a shout from one of the mercenaries. One of our dowsers had found water. It was a feeble stream at the bottom of a shallow ravine. There was a bear drinking from a small pool fed by the stream. It was a big brute. Ten feet long and armoured in a hard, dun shell. Great claws, a fang filled muzzle, and immense strength and endurance. It was just a beast, but it wasn’t without mind bending powers. It had no desire to fight two dozen men and we had no desire to tangle unnecessarily with the bear. We let it retreat before leading the kanks down and watering them. Then we drank our fill and refilled our water skins and casks.

We settled down for the night a few hours away on a hill top. Kestral took first watch and then woke me for the second. No predators came near the camp, but one of the mercenaries moaned and twisted fitfully in his sleep.

Fool that I was, I thought nothing of it.

The next day was more travel. The merc with the bad dreams, Erwan, was clumsy, slow, and sloppy. He got ribbed by his mates for that, but not much else. There’s no shortage of things on Athas that can give you bad dreams. We kept heading through the hills. We had a few stops to allow the kanks to graze and check our bearings, but nothing out of the ordinary. We made camp and settled down to rest as evening came. We were close to the mountains now. Only a day or two away I guessed. I haven’t done much traveling.

We bedded down to sleep, with watches as usual. Three more men cried out and woke, resting uneasily. I may be a fool, but I’m not an idiot. I shook Barius awake. He blinked sleepily and looked at me. “What is it?”

“I think we’re under mind bending attack.”

He threw off the blanket and got to his feet. “What happened?”

“Three more men have nightmares.” The blood drained from his face. Oh pyreen, that wasn’t good.

“Bring them to me. Immediately.”

Shaking I woke the restless mercenaries and sent them to him. I followed in their wake. “What were you nightmares like?” Barius asked Erwan.

“I was being chased by a huge monster,” said the mercenary. “Nothing worked. It climbed cliffs and smashed through stone walls. Weapons couldn’t hurt it. It got me at the end.”

The other mercenaries nodded. “All of you had the same kind of dream?” asked Barius. They nodded again. “The beast, it was huge, four legged with red glowing eyes? Tusks and claws? Purple or dark blue hide?” They nodded again.

“Wake everyone up and get the kanks ready to move. Now.”

They hurried away. “My lord,” I asked, “what is it?” I’m an unlettered slave, but there are a few things I know. Any gladiator learns a lot about the beasts of Athas. Besides killing them in the arena I talked a lot with the beast handlers. A lot of them use the Unseen Way to hunt or defend themselves.

The attackers probably weren’t raiders because two dozen armed men with no cargo was a lousy target to stalk and attack. It probably wasn’t a predator like an id fiend or a gaj for the same reason. But whatever it was, Barius recognized it.

“Nightmare beast,” he replied. Pyreen have mercy. I’ve never seen a nightmare beast, never talked to a beast handler that knew much about them. They were too powerful and too dangerous to ever be considered for use in the arena. Of all the creatures of the Heartland, only the Dragon was worse and the Dragon was dead.

“What do we do?”

“It’s stalking us, wearing us down with the Way before it attacks us directly,” he said. “They’re almost unstoppable. We’ll have to get as much distance on it was we can and hope it gives up.” He didn’t sound convincing.

“If we can’t?” I asked.

“Then we find a good position to fight from and hope we can drive it off before it kills us all.” The camp was roused by now and sleeping rolls were hastily bundled up and the kanks harnessed for riding.

“What’s going on?” asked Hewul, the mercenary captain. His mace was in his hand.

“We’re being attacked by a nightmare beast, a powerful mind bender,” said Barius. “We’re running instead of fighting and hoping it looks for other prey.”

Hewul nodded and got back to his men. We pushed the kanks to a gallop and kept them there for a long time. We slowed after a while, to keep from killing them. Barius turned to Kestral. “How long do you think until we’re at the scrub belt?”

“We can make it before nightfall, I think,” Kestral replied.

“We had better,” Barius replied. “Otherwise we’re dead.”