ã€ŠMaster of Cards: A Deckbuilding LitRPG Adventureã€‹


 Chapter 1

    Cookware and cutlery are meant for sustaining life, not saving it, though I suppose the end goal is ultimately the same. On the day I, Griffin Gunnar, gained my first card fragment, my cookware did save my life in a literal sense.

    It was a foggy morning, cool and wet. My makeshift fire still smoked from the night before, a tiny whisp of gray rising from the ashes. I had meant to put it out, but I¡¯d fallen asleep.

    Unwise? Foolhardy? Believe me, I agree wholeheartedly. I shouldn¡¯t have fallen asleep as easily as I did, what with all the monsters that roamed these parts. I should consider myself lucky I wasn¡¯t gutted in the night.

    I should have convinced one of the duelists in town to accompany me and cover my back while I tried to get my first card so I could finally set out to find my brother Gareth. There weren¡¯t many people left in Parroia that I knew and trusted, but there were a few. My uncle Deebo had been one of the best, but he had been dead six years at that point. There was Snyder, a surly man who stank of smoke and had a mouth of yellowed teeth and blackened gums, but he had a deck full of [Rare] cards emblazoned upon his skin, and he was a master with his powerful javelin.

    The twins, Marken and Melli, were a tag-team hunting duo who kept the town supplied with card fragments from the monsters that roamed the Badlands. They could have moved on to greener pastures, earned better gear and stronger cards, but they seemed content with their lives in Parroia.

    I couldn¡¯t even begin to hazard a guess as to why. Neither was married or had a family other than each other. What kept them in that last call of a town, only the gods beyond could say.

    Point being, they were capable and would have helped me in a heartbeat. So why didn¡¯t I ask them or Snyder¡ªeven if he stank worse than a skunkmite?

    The answer was simple. I had to do this myself. I had to earn this myself. Not with someone else¡¯s help. Maybe only a gentle nudge from my uncle Deebo¡¯s spirit, may he rest in abundance.

    ¡°I earned my first fragment myself,¡± I remembered him saying, ¡°As did your father, and your brother Gareth too. That¡¯s the way it¡¯s done, my boy.¡±

    Sure, you could buy fragments with money. The whole economy of Western Dominance was predicated on the card trade. If I had been born with money, I could have purchased good card fragments or even the cards themselves. Indeed, many privileged folks who never worked a day in their lives did that. Nothing inherently bad about that. That¡¯s how economics work. But to me, it felt wrong to do it that way. I was determined to use my own two hands to claim my first card fragment.

    No matter how stupid that might have been.

    That said, I wasn¡¯t off to the best start. As the smoke listed in the air over the fire, I searched my meager camp for my knife, the one weapon I had in this world. I didn¡¯t have a card for it. So, I wasn¡¯t imbued with the immediate skill of being able to wield it like an expert¡ªor even a journeyman with some training¡ªbut I had worked with it some. I knew how to hold it, how to defend and attack at least a little bit.

    If I¡¯d had a card, it would give me an instant skill, whether it was weapon proficiency, how to smith, how to cook, how to sew, or anything else that took knowledge and skill. But you could also learn how to do those things on your own. This just took time, patience, and perseverance. Most folks didn¡¯t have those things, so cards were coveted by pretty much everyone from every walk of life.

    I liked to think that I was patient, hardworking, and willing to learn critical skills. For starters, I could cook. Sure, I wasn¡¯t a gourmet chef with the skill of a legendary class culinary artist card, but I could whip up a mighty fine breakfast, and I could take a rabbit or a pigeon and cook it a dozen different ways. I had also taught myself how to care for shoes because leatherworking was expensive, and I didn¡¯t have a cobblery card nor the funds to go to one. Everyone should learn the simple things in case they didn¡¯t have the cards.

    We all had our limits though, and that was why I was out here. It was high time I finally started my journey. If I waited any longer, I¡¯d never be able to find my brother. He had enough of a head start on me as it was.

    First, though, I needed a good breakfast. So, I scoured the woods around the small rocky clearing I¡¯d called home for the night. There were plenty of spare sticks and pine needles around, so I carried them in two big bundles back to my fire. I worked them into the ashes and the still-hot embers beneath. With some coaxing breaths, the flames sparked to life again, jumping into the pine needles and sticks. Within a few minutes, a good-sized fire bathed me in warmth. It felt awful good in the cool morning air.

    After that, I delved deeper into the woods to check the traps I¡¯d set out the night before. Just some simple snares, nothing as complex as what a [Master Trapper] card would give me, but my uncle Deebo had taught me and my brother a thing or two about hunting and trapping before he¡¯d died.

    The first few snares didn¡¯t reveal anything, but the fourth one was where my luck lay. A big brown hare was caught in the trap, its legs tied tight together. It squirmed as I came close, making a pathetic keening sound that made my heart twist.

    I knelt at its side and freed my knife. ¡°Sorry, little one. May you find place in the great warrens beyond.¡±

    One stab and twist of the blade, and the hare went still and silent. I always found it disrespectful that some people just hunted without any regard for their quarry. All creatures were living beings with emotions, and there was no reason to let it suffer.

    Now the monsters that came through the Fissures, the cracks in reality that lead to their home realm? That was a different conversation.

    I took the hare back to my camp. There was an iron pan in my pack that I¡¯d used the night before. I cleaned it off, then placed it over the fire, and the flames licked the belly of it. While the pan heated, I quickly skinned the hare, dressed it, and then carved it up. Only a third of it was for now. The other two-thirds, I salted to keep it fresh.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    As the hare cooked in the warming morning air, I sighed, content. My stomach growled, but it would be sated soon. My hands went to my pack, where I grabbed a small hunk of wood and a whittling knife. I began to chip away at the pale and pliant wood, though I didn¡¯t make much, nothing pretty to look at. I didn¡¯t have a whittling card¡ªif such a thing even existed. Whittling kept my hands busy, and that was better than what they often wanted to do when they were bored.

    The delicious scent of the hare cooking wafted over the fire and into my nostrils, and I couldn¡¯t help but smile. My stomach growled in anticipation. Almost done . . .

    A branch snapped behind me. My body swiveled, and my head whipped around. And I found a little beasty standing there.

    The creature had pimply red skin covered in warts and growths, and the color reminded me of a quilt of bruises that stretch the length of its entire body. Of course, that¡¯s just what they looked like. The monster had a wide and angular face with a knife-like chin, ears that jutted out as wide as its shoulders, and fleshy flaps that fell along its jaw. Beady yellow eyes that looked malevolent and sickly stared back at me. They were not void of intelligence though.

    I had heard stories of these creatures before, but seeing a monster for the first time sends a shiver down your spine like nothing else.

    <blockquote>

    Monster Detected: Bodokin

    Bodokin are the scourge of the Badlands and have a propensity to attack and eat anyone and everything, including their own species. They are marginally intelligent but cannot be reasoned with as their instinct to maim, kill, and consume controls their every action.

    </blockquote>

    That was also the first time that I¡¯d received a monster notification, and the information was instantly seared into my mind as if I¡¯d always known it.

    The Bodokin raised a deadly-looking stone axe and pointed it at me, then spat out a gibberish of words that I couldn¡¯t begin to understand.

    I imagine it had threatened my life and made some pretty vile promises as to what it was going to do to me.

    The thing was a right nasty sight. Bodokin were members of the goblin line of monsters, and this one was about half my height, barely taller than where my naval sat. Height was never an issue for them though. They were quick and feisty and fought with a ferocity that was sickening. Their muscles were compact in a way that was different than we humans. So even though this one had leanly muscled arms, I knew it could probably pick me up and toss me around if it wished.

    And boy, did it wish.

    The monster ran at me, faster than it had any right to be, little legs quickly scampering over the gravel. My hands shot to my hip and fumbled for my knife, but I was too jittery and panicked from the sudden attack, and it slipped right out of my grip as I pulled it free. It hit one rock and then bounced away. Before I could even think to retrieve it, the Bodokin was on me.

    It swung its axe with a flurry of gibbering curses, a diagonal swipe that would have cleaved me in two from shoulder to hip. Luckily, I stumbled back and fell right over the fire, pitching onto my butt on the other side. The flames only licked my trousers and made my legs flare with tiny stinging needles of pain. The hard landing on my tailbone was probably worse.

    That put the fire between me and the monster, but the Bodokin ignored the flames, jumping right over without hesitation, and attacked me again as I continued to scramble backward.

    The creature lunged at me, stone axe swinging at my head. I yelped as I threw myself to the side and damn near knocked a tooth out as my chin smashed against the ground. Blood filled my mouth, and pain raced through my skull. Curses swam in my noggin.

    The Bodokin made a chittering¡¯ sound that I reckoned was some sort of taunting. Or maybe it was cursing at me for not dying already. I didn¡¯t speak the Bodokin language or any goblin, troll, orc, or any of their various subspecies and their many different tongues. I wished I did, though, because I would have given the monster a good verbal licking. If my mouth hadn¡¯t been full of blood and feeling like I bit a rock.

    I didn¡¯t have time to really contemplate that as the Bodokin slashed down with its axe again, and I had to roll away or get decapitated. The axe slammed into the rocky earth, sending sparks and making the Bodokin stagger back from the jarring impact. That was the opening I needed.

    I pounced to my feet and lunged for my knife, but before I could reach it, the axe flew over my head and knocked the knife even further away. Both it and the axe then tumbled down the hill, impossibly far and way out of reach.

    ¡°Damn it all,¡± I said.

    The Bodokin, like many of the vicious, semi-intelligent monsters, was packing more than a single weapon. The creature freed two stone hammers from its leather hip holsters. Each one looked more than capable of bashing my skull to smithereens.

    I swallowed. ¡°Come on, then.¡±

    The monster took the invitation and ran at me, swinging and flailing the hammers with the grace of an angry child. I dodged them fairly easily, though the erratic attacks made it hard to predict the Bodokin¡¯s next strike. It was more luck than skill that I wasn¡¯t bashed to death.

    We did this dance for several frantic seconds. The creature gave me no openings for a counterattack. I couldn¡¯t anyway, since I didn¡¯t have my knife anymore. I stayed on my feet and evaded as best I could.

    Then I tripped again.

    My heel caught on a particularly stubborn rock, and I spilled onto the ground next to the fire. Not in the flames this time, nor did the landing hurt beyond a jarring jolt through my bones and teeth.

    But my fall gave the Bodokin all the opening it needed to finish me off.

    I wasn¡¯t ready to give up and die though. I had too much to do still. I wasn¡¯t about to let my life just be over.

    The hammers came down upon me. I didn¡¯t think. My hand moved on its own. It grabbed the scalding handle of the iron pan. Normally, I grabbed the handle with a wool cloth but no time for that now. I swung the pan up in front of me.

    My hare dinner went flying.

    The stone hammers met the pan with a resounding bong!

    And cast iron beats rock, because the hammers rebounded with such force that both the Bodokin and I yelped and recoiled. I somehow kept my hold on the pan despite the searing pain¡ªa pain that didn¡¯t even register in my mind at that moment.

    The Bodokin staggered, and its two hammers joined the hare in sailing away. I didn¡¯t wait or hesitate. I lunged for the beast and brought the pan down on its pointy head with all of my adrenaline-fueled strength. The black cast iron smashed the whisps of greasy hair down flat onto the creature¡¯s skull with a thump.

    Then I smashed it again and again.

    And again and again and again and again and . . .

    The pan hit solid rock with a loud clang. The reverberation sent a shockwave through my arm and caused me to yelp and drop the frying pan. I suddenly became aware of the burns on my hands, but I didn¡¯t care.

    My eyes were transfixed on what lay on the ground in front of me. The pan had hit rock, not because I had bashed that stinker¡¯s head in so thoroughly, but because, like most monsters, it began to crumble upon its death.

    Monster corpses were very valuable, and their parts could be used for weapons, clothing, apothecary stuff, and more. But always, a section of the monster would crumble into dust and reveal its magical heart in the form of a card fragment.

    Card fragments, the building blocks of all cards, could be merged with others to forge the bedrock of the magical skill trade that made the world run. And now, this defeated monster was offering me its spoils, and I was beside myself.

    A white glow emerged from within its remains, and a silvery fragment floated up from the head, past the crumbling ash of the monster¡¯s essence.

    A card fragment. My first card fragment. I had finally earned it, and I could truly begin my card-wielding journey.

 Chapter 2

    With shaky hands, I cupped my palms around the fragment as it floated up from the remains of the Bodokin with the slow grace of a leaf listing in the breeze. I didn¡¯t dare touch it at first. It wouldn¡¯t hurt me, but I did hold it in reverence. These magical pieces of a card were everything. In this primal form, still fresh from a slain monster, the fragment was magic in its rawest form. It was quite literally raw power.

    Many people don¡¯t hold that with the proper respect, I fear. Too many buy and sell cards and fragments wholesale without truly earning them, so how could they appreciate the true value? Not me. I was going to do it right.

    The fragment was bright, but once it settled into my cupped palms, the shine dulled, and I was left holding a thin, sharp gray shard.  One end was rounded, resembling one corner of a playing card. Mind you, not all card fragments took on the shape of a card. Some looked like chunks of crystal or sharp needles or everything in between, but most looked like the one I held.

    The dull gray color, taken from a lowly Bodokin, marked it as a [Common] card fragment. These were easiest to get, either by killing a weak monster or by buying them. They weren¡¯t cheap compared to a lot of things in the world but compared to higher-tiered card fragments or whole cards, [Common] card fragments were practically a steal.

    I could have bought my first fragment as soon as I turned sixteen, the accepted age when card powers became viable, but I wanted my first to be one I earned. I made enough of a living helping around town, but my uncle had done it that way, and he said my dad had too. My brother Gareth did as well, so I wasn¡¯t going to shirk that tradition just for an easier and faster head start. That¡¯s not how I was built.

    No sooner did the fragment touch my palms than the searing pain of my burn wounds flooded through my brain. I cried in pain as I dropped the fragment and hugged my hands to my chest.

    ¡°Son of a . . . Motherfu . . . I just had to grab the pan. Grrrrr!¡±

    I stifled the groan that did its best to escape as my teeth gnashed. Hands and feet were the worst place to be hurt but it was either that or a bashed-in skull.

    ¡°Buck up, kiddo,¡± I told myself, echoing the words uncle Deebo and my brother would say to me whenever I faced some adversity.

    I pocketed the card fragment and hurried over to my backpack. Inside, I removed a roll of medical tape that I¡¯d packed at the last minute on the chance that whatever monster I found might gut me. Score one for being prepared. Every little movement hurt, but eventually, I snagged the tape with my teeth, pulled, and was able to wrap it tightly around my right hand. With the burn bound and secured, I did the same for the left hand.

    Once they were both wrapped, I downed a small vial of fast-healing elixir I¡¯d snagged from Granny Twellin in reward for helping in her garden while she was out of town. Once I started feeling better, I realized I probably should have taken the potion first.

    With my wounds taken care of, I was itching to get back to town but allowed myself a few breaths. With each lungful of air, I could feel the elixir work its way through my body. It soothed my pain drastically and boosted my body¡¯s healing ability. although it would still take days for the burns to heal completely. Meanwhile, the elixir dulled the enough for me to actually use my hands.

    My stomach rumbled, and I cursed, remembering my nearly cooked meal. The hare had gone flying, and even if there were more catches in my other snares, I didn¡¯t want to eat out of the pan at the moment. Not when it was still covered in Bodokin blood, skull fragments, and brainy bits.

    I collected the rest of my snares, gathering a squirrel and a tree ferret. I skinned and gutted them the best I could, then put them in my salt bag for later. I could sell them to Mr. Reid, the butcher, or store them. Then, back at the fire, I gathered up my bedroll and all of my things and located my knife. I¡¯d had to use my poor whittling knife to slit their throats, and that was a right mess¡ªbut I found it not too far away, along with the Bodokin¡¯s stone axe. I collected that, too, and the stone hammers. I could sell or trade them. Finally, I put out the fire and wrapped my pan in my greasy towel. It needed to be cleaned desperately, but I didn¡¯t have time or water to do it just then.

    I hefted everything onto my back, heavier than before, but I had strong legs and a strong back, and even my injuries and my empty stomach weren¡¯t enough to stop me.

    Nothing was going to stop me.

    Fortunately, the town wasn¡¯t too far away, maybe half a day¡¯s journey back to Parroia. Probably less now that I could mostly go downhill.

    With that said, the terrain didn¡¯t help things. It was mainly rocky and dry with sparse grasses and shrubbery, plus an occasional cactus, until you eventually came to the woods. There weren¡¯t a lot of animals about for the tanners, and the hunters and trappers went to the hills north and west of town where there was more and better game to be had. They avoided the southern hills where most of the monsters lived because they weren¡¯t interested in life-or-death battles. The real adventurers and monster fighters ventured further out into the Badlands to find bigger, more profitable monsters. That¡¯s why I¡¯d pretty much had the region to myself.

    My feet were sore after the first few hours, but I didn¡¯t let that stop me. The intensifying stomach pain was driving me mad, so I sucked on some dried sugarbark. It was too hard to chew unless you wanted to break some teeth, but the flavor was near endless until you sucked it down to a crystallized pebble. So, I did that to sate my appetite for the moment.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    I heard Parroia before I saw the town. Men and women shouting and cursing down at the market. The bustle, the whistle of hawkers, and the strumming of Ole Jem¡¯s guitar as she busked on the corner by Putrid Pete¡¯s Saloon. The chime of the shift-change bells at the mines on the east side as the men took their lunches and a new batch went in to mine iron and coal, and maybe occasionally kill drillmoles, which would produce some card fragments. The only thing missing was a blaring train horn pealing through the noonday air¡ªsometimes they ran behind. They usually came every day around noon.

    It was the sound of home, and I was glad to be back. I crested one last hill and then saw her spread out before me on a wide plain surrounded by hills.

    Parroia was a decent-sized town, especially for the Badlands. A couple thousand people called her home, which might be nothing compared to the big cities back East, but for the Badlands, they had it better than most. Busy enough to keep everyone employed and small enough that you didn¡¯t feel suffocated by too many people.

    Mines were dug into the cliffs on the eastern border of the town. On the north side lay a small lake, more a large pond than anything, that was the main water source for the town, though you could fish in it. Deputies constantly patrolled to make sure no one polluted or dumped trash in the lake. You¡¯d think people would care for their only good source of drinking water, but people were stupid and selfish.

    The train station on the southside of town welcomed only one train a day, and that never had too many people on it, beyond traders and supply runners. Other people occasionally passed through, but card fiends usually went further west near the Fissures where the real monsters came into the world. We didn¡¯t get the serious types around here often, and that was fine by me. Parroia was just a whistle-stop to bigger and better things for most people, but she was my whistle-stop.

    I walked along the train tracks for a while, which more or less represented the boundary of the town. I¡¯d say the twelve-foot sand-and-limestone wall around the bulk of the town represented the boundary, but that had been built a long time ago, so a lot had been built outside of it, like the stables, the grain silos, the entire mining company, and the train station. The lake was there too.

    Most towns had huge walls. Some further west supposedly had walls as tall as trees because they had more frequent monster attacks by much stronger breeds of monsters. The closer you got to the Fissures and their scars, the stronger the beasties tended to be. Here, we weren¡¯t very close, but that didn¡¯t make things truly safe like they were the further east you went.

    It took me about five minutes to get to the train station, which was near one of the wide-open entrances into town. Stalls and merchants hawking their goods lined the road from the station to the town. Places like Mabel¡¯s Coal Sculptures and Monster Oddments, Harrick¡¯s Straw Goods, and Madam Emely¡¯s Elegant Trinkets¡ªall with fake jewels for the most part. I loved it all. I smiled and nodded as I passed them, and most of them did the same if they weren¡¯t busy with a customer.

    I stopped at Twellin¡¯s Potions. The old witch had a stall here run by her assistant while Granny worked at the main store inside the walls.

    Only pretty Tannis, Granny¡¯s great granddaughter and current assistant, was present. She had a heart-shaped face with a smattering of freckles across her nose, light auburn hair a bit messy no matter how much she tried to wrangle it, and always a kind word to say.

    As I approached, she was reading an old leather-bound tome beneath the embroidered quilt that covered the top of the stall. From my perspective, it looked like a logbook. Maybe she was checking inventory, but I couldn¡¯t say for sure.

    She heard me approach but didn¡¯t look up. ¡°I¡¯ll be with you in a moment, sir, madam, or individual.¡±

    I cracked a wide grin. ¡°I don¡¯t think Granny would see this as very customer focused. She¡¯s written you up for that before.¡±

    Her eyes snapped up, and the book snapped closed. ¡°Griff, you¡¯re back!¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡±

    She smiled shyly. She always was a bit shy or at least seemed that way around me. Although nineteen and a few years my senior, she was already a very capable assistant to her grandmother. As always, my eyes lingered on the swirls of ink that traced their way across her bare hands and arms. She was carded. Several cards, at least.

    There was a tattoo of a needle and thread on her left hand¡ªa [Common] card for [Sewing]. On the opposite hand, she had a small windy pattern, an indicator of a [Speed] card. In practice, it let her use her hands in a faster manner, good for writing faster and longer, among other things. Twisting up the same forearm as the windy tattoo was a swirling pattern of runic flowers with a faint blue sheen to them. The more elaborate pattern meant it was from an [Uncommon] level card, the next tier up from [Common]. That one was for [Gardening], an essential skill for an Apothecary.

    I knew she had more cards hidden away. Some I knew of and some I¡¯m sure I didn¡¯t. Many people had hidden cards tattooed on them. In fact, people often wore gloves and long sleeves to hide things they didn¡¯t want discovered, though that was less common in a town like this where everyone was friendly and mostly used their cards for work and trade.

    ¡°You¡¯re alive, so I suppose that means you succeeded?¡±

    I nodded and pulled out the gray card fragment from my pocket. ¡°I did! A bit unorthodox but a kill is a kill. I¡¯ll tell you about it at the saloon later if you¡¯d like?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡± She smiled sweetly, her cheeks flushing a shade. ¡°Now, I assume you need something?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, one sec.¡± I put the fragment back in my pocket and retrieved the squirrel from my salt bag. I presented it to her. ¡°I had to use one of Granny¡¯s elixirs on my hands. Burned ¡¯em something fierce. Would this get me another bottle? I need to save my coins for the Cardsmith.¡±

    ¡°Normally, I¡¯d say no,¡± she began, but she gave me a wink. ¡°But for you, and considering this momentous occasion, I think I can offer a discount. So yes, you got yerself a deal, Griffin.¡±

    ¡°Thank you kindly, Miss Tannis.¡±

    I handed her the squirrel, and she gave me another small vial of elixir. We both packed our prizes away and smiled at each other. She waved me off.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re excited to get your card, so I won¡¯t hold you up. Good luck, Griff!¡±

    I tipped my hat to her. ¡°Appreciate it, Tannis. I¡¯ll see you later.¡±

    And then I was off again, my pain and soreness, even my hunger forgotten. I supposed I should¡¯ve bartered for something to eat. There were plenty of food stalls around, and I had one spare copper I could have used for some jerky at the general store, but I was too excited now that I was back in town.

    No more delays. No more obstacles. It was time to see the Cardsmith of the town, Master Elloy, so I could get my first card forged.

 Chapter 3

    The smithies were clear on the other side of town from where I¡¯d come in, which was fine. I wasn¡¯t in any hurry beyond the self-imposed excitement of my own dreams, so a few extra minutes wasn¡¯t going to dampen my mood. I walked those streets every day, and I knew them as intimately as I knew the scars that danced across my flesh and the stories they told.

    There were two smithies, one right next to the other. On one side¡ªleft as you faced the two shops¡ªwas a more traditional shop. Master Elijah was an expert metallurgist and Master Forger. He could make you a sword or a revolver, a blunderbuss or a poleaxe, and everything in between and beyond. Leather smithing, bone crafting, metal weaving¡ªhe did it all. He once studied at the fabled Tophana University of Smithing in Verdana City back East, where you had to be recommended by three Master Smiths to even apply. You really had to prove your worth.

    Master Elijah had my respect as well as that of everyone in the town.

    Next door to him was his brother, Master Elloy, a Cardsmith.

    Cardsmiths were vital to the economy of the entire world, so though scrutiny, training, and certifications were required to become one, the selection process was not as rigorous as Tophana University¡¯s. In fact, a fair number of Cardsmiths that didn¡¯t go to a university at all, especially out in the Badlands. Master Elloy had been trained somewhere, but I didn¡¯t know exactly where.

    Elloy knew some metal smithing, and Elijah knew some cardsmithing, but they each had their expertise and generally stuck to it. People looking for cards and all related things went to Elloy, and if they received a brand-new skill and wanted a weapon for it, he¡¯d direct them next door to his brother.

    When I arrived at the smithies, I was dismayed to see that there was a line in front of Elloy¡¯s shop. That made sense because everyone and everything ran on cards, whereas you needed a good amount of money to afford Elijah¡¯s best stuff. It wasn¡¯t the worst I¡¯d ever seen though. One time, over thirty people were waiting for Elloy over the course of a whole day, but that was a lot for our town. Right then, it was about eight.

    Most of the town was made of wood siding, easy to mass produce quickly from the forests in the region. But buildings like the bank, the mayor¡¯s office, the sheriff¡¯s office and lock up, and¡ªof course¡ªthe smithies were all made of either brick and mortar or some sort of stone, like limestone or sandstone.

    A trio of men I¡¯d never seen were waiting on a bench near the entrance of the card shop. They all wore wide-brimmed leather hats, brown and black. One wore a red-skinned leather vest that likely came from a fire hog, and one wore a bright green bolo tie that was secured with an emerald-like gem, but I doubted it was real. Anyone who could afford an emerald that big wouldn¡¯t wear something so gaudy. The last man was young like me, and he had a nasty scar down his jaw. Two revolvers hugged his hips, and I glimpsed a bit of ink on the pale skin of his wrist between his sleeve and his gloves. All three men wore chaps. They could have been ranchers or mercenaries; it was hard to tell which.

    They regarded me with little interest as I went inside. I tipped my own hat¡ªa ratty, wide-brimmed straw thing that my father supposedly had made for me¡ªto them in greeting and walked past.

    I¡¯d been to the smith before. Several times, in fact. Many times, even. I was banned from the premises now though. Well, not banned in the purest sense of the word. I could come if I actually had business with Elloy. In the past, I¡¯d come all the time just to see him work his magic and work the cards and to see all the interesting skills that people gained from them. It had been fine when I¡¯d been a little kid¡ªwho didn¡¯t like kids? Plus, my uncle had still been alive back then, and he was a well-respected man from what I could recall.

    Then he¡¯d died, and people weren¡¯t going to kick out the orphan with nowhere to go, and that had suited me just fine. I wore out my welcome in most places, but the Cardsmith was where I went the most. Even Elloy, who was a very patient man, lost it with me eventually. So, about a year ago, I was banned.

    Despite that banishment, this was not my first time returning from exile. I was an errand boy for many of the shops in town. If you needed some chores or something delivered for you, I was your guy. So, I¡¯d delivered one thing or another to Elloy several times in the previous year.

    The inside of the Cardsmith¡¯s shop was simple yet elegant in its own way. It was a wide-open space, a huge room supported by wooden beams along the sides and studded with metal to keep them strong and sturdy and to prevent fire damage as much as possible. The few powerlines that did run into the town had some wires to spare for the Cardsmith, unlike much of the town, so the space was brightly lit compared to others. Dim bulbs in foggy glass lamps hung along the walls and from the support beams that crossed the room from the rafters. Electricity still fascinated me since it was relatively new to these parts, though I¡¯d heard that Verdana City and the capital back East glittered with electric light at all hours, and I longed to see this with my own eyes.

    I wasn¡¯t alone, of course. On a bench to either side of the door were a few more customers waiting. Mostly men, but also a couple of women, and I only recognized two of them. So, people passing through, it seemed.

    Ahead of me and directly across from the door stood a small desk encased by a semicircular wooden counter. Sitting behind it was a young man, Landrid, who was in his midtwenties and served as an assistant for both smiths. He had a mousy face and pale hair that always seemed too dry. Often, his face was smudged and dirty from helping Elijah and Elloy, though today, he seemed clean. The glint of the pale electric lights on his glasses hid his eyes temporarily from view.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    As soon as I stepped in and the bell above the door jingled, Landrid looked up with a bored expression.

    ¡°Howdy, welcome in. If you don¡¯t have an appointment with Master Elloy then you need to . . . Griff?¡±

    I put on my best smile and gave him a wave. ¡°Awful nice day out there, ain¡¯t it? How you doing, Landrid?¡±

    He scoffed. ¡°Get out, Griff. As you can see, we¡¯re busy today, and neither I nor the master have time for your foolishness.¡±

    ¡°Well, as much as I¡¯d love to follow that command, I¡¯m actually here as a customer.¡±

    That got Landrid¡¯s attention and his disbelief. ¡°Oh, really?¡±

    Before he demanded for me to prove it, I pulled the card fragment free from my pocket. That was enough to silence any further retorts that he had loaded in the chamber. His eyes narrowed for only a moment before he sighed in acceptance.

    ¡°Okay, Griff. I guess it¡¯s about time you actually came with something we can help you with. That said, you don¡¯t have an appointment, so take a number.¡±

    I would have liked to argue, but Elloy had a system, and he didn¡¯t like people messing with that system, so I resigned myself. There was a small roll of paper on the desk next to the little brass bell that I had often loved to ding. I pulled one, and the segmented end broke off from the rest. I gave it a look. Printed tall and thin was the number seventeen.

    I pocketed it. ¡°How many people are ahead of me?¡± I asked.

    Landrid pushed his glasses up the bridge of his skinny nose as he looked down at the logbook behind the desk. ¡°Master Elloy is servicing number nine at the moment, so there¡¯s eight customers in front. I reckon it will take a couple of hours to get to you.¡±

    ¡°Okay, gotcha. Thanks.¡±

    As eager as I was to stay, a couple hours was a lot of time to kill, and in that exact moment, my stomach decided to roar and remind me¡ªand everyone in the room¡ªthat I was starving. The sugarbark had staved off the hunger for as long as possible, and there was no more waiting now. I thanked Landrid, then left.

    A part of me wanted to go straight to one of the saloons or to the inn, but I really needed to save my money for the smithy, so I hightailed it back home so I could unload my stuff and cook up some grub.

    By all rights, I shouldn¡¯t have even had a home. A lot of the homes in town were technically owned by the bank, which I always thought was an awful system. I mean, if you build a home yourself, even with the help of the bank, it should be yours. Well, thankfully for me, Uncle Deebo had paid off what he owed the bank before he passed, and he¡¯d named me the sole owner in his will, so I had somewhere to live.

    That was all he¡¯d left me, really: just whatever possessions of his were left in the house and the house itself. I had to fend for myself when it came to provisions, but I was able to survive, and in those first few years after his death, the people of Parroia had been kind to me.

    The house wasn¡¯t overly impressive, mind you, but it was enough, and it was a home all the same. I lived on the north side of town, near the retaining wall next to the lake, so I often snuck out and sat by the water. The house was a simple little number, just four square walls with a single room and a slightly gabled roof. Nothing fancy, but it was my world.

    I put away all of my things, fished a can of beans from the cupboard, then started a fire on the stove with some matches. I¡¯d need to replace the starter oil soon. My can opener was rusty, but it still got the job done after some effort. I placed the can over the open fire to heat them, as I wasn¡¯t gonna dirty my one good pan on a can of beans.

    While that got started, I put the meat I had packed in salt in the larder for later and gave myself a quick wash in the back. That consisted of wiping off the sweat and dirt with a wet rag from the cold-water basin behind the house. It got the job done. I changed my clothes when I was finished, as they stank, and I didn¡¯t want Elloy to be disgusted by me, even though I knew full well that he dealt with dirty customers every single day. But he knew me, and I was a young man of good repute. Mostly.

    The beans were cooked by the time I was dressed again, and I poured them into a metal bowl. They slid easily and landed with a kerplunk in a single heap.

    I ate my fill and let the time roll by, though I was by no means being lazy. When I was sure more than an hour had passed, I hurried back to the smithy, which took around ten minutes at a brisk walk.

    When I got there, the three men on the bench outside were gone, and in their place was one of the deputies, Mr. Harris, reading a paper. I didn¡¯t know him too well beyond his name and face and a few pleasantries exchanged as he was relatively new. He lowered the paper as I approached, tipped his cap, and wagged his thick brown mustache with enthusiasm at me. Then he carried on reading.

    Inside, the people that had been waiting were gone. Two of the men from outside earlier now sat on the left of the entrance, the man with the fire-hog vest and the other with the fake-looking emerald bolo. They were both bent over the edge of their seats as they played with some dice and dominoes, none of which looked to be of any fine make. Their words and curses were hushed, as if they were trying to be quiet. Not so unusual, as people held Cardsmiths in high esteem and usually didn¡¯t want to do anything to piss them off. Usually. Landrid was still reading behind the desk, looking bored. If it was busier, he would have been running around between the two shops, but it seemed like a slowish day.

    There was no one else waiting. I looked to the two men. ¡°What numbers y¡¯all got?¡± I asked them.

    They stopped their game and looked up to glare at me. Neither of them shot me a reprimand, however. Instead, they both raised the same thin pieces of paper as I had from their pockets. Fifteen and sixteen. I nodded my thanks and then sat on the other bench.

    Even though I knew it wasn¡¯t very long in reality, the time went by in a slog. Only a few minutes after I arrived, the other man in their trio returned from the back, grinning from ear to ear as he buttoned up his shirt and vest. I glimpsed a new glowing tattoo on his chest whose light was slowly fading. It was impossible for me to tell what design it might be. On his back, however, were two gleaming metal clubs that had not been present when I saw him outside. So, perhaps a [Strength] buff? Or maybe a [Blunt Weapon] skill card. Impossible to know for certain. And I wasn¡¯t about to ask, even if my curiosity was screaming at me. It was ill form and rude to ask people about their cards and tattoos if they were deliberately hidden. Sometimes it was outright dangerous. These gentlemen didn¡¯t look very savory, so I wasn¡¯t going to push my luck.

    He left, and then Landrid waved bolo tie through. Another twenty-odd minutes elapsed, and he returned as well. Fire-hog vest went back next, and then it was just me waiting.

    I was sure an hour had passed by the time it was my turn. I was bored out of my mind and burning with excitement and anticipation, and there was no way I was going to wait any longer.

    I stood as soon as the man in the red vest left, my grin as wide as the valley. The door jingled to my left, but I didn¡¯t even spare a glance. I looked to Landrid and started to walk to him and to my ascension.

    And then I got pushed aside by whoever had come through the door.

 Chapter 4

    The man shouldered me out of the way with complete disregard for my very existence. I liked to think that I was a somewhat sturdy fellow, but the abject rudeness of the gesture caught me so off guard that my legs got twisted as he pushed me, and I fell to the ground. My tailbone smacked hard against the floorboards, sending a jolt up my spine.

    ¡°Hey, friend, watch it!¡± I cried, and already, my anger was rising to the surface, though I did my best to tamp it down. I didn¡¯t want to upset Elloy, but I also didn¡¯t want to let this slide so easily.

    ¡°Sit down, boy,¡± the man said with a sneer.

    I looked up at him at last. He was a well-groomed man with a shaved face, a soft jaw, and a twirling brown mustache that was oiled to perfection. The man wore a fine velvet suit and vest that probably cost more than my uncle¡¯s house, and he walked with a solid-wood cane¡ªa deep red and fine as wine, definitely high quality and expensive.

    Alarm bells were chiming around my head, telling me to stay calm and let it pass, but there was no way I could do that. I shot to my feet and stood up to him. ¡°You think you can just go around knocking people down like it¡¯s nothing? Maybe you can do that mess back East, but not here.¡±

    He sniffed at me and had such a look of disgust on his face that I was almost flattened a second time by the sheer audacity of it, as if he didn¡¯t even think of me as human. This wasn¡¯t a unique experience for me, sad to say. More than a few wealthy men and women who¡¯d passed through the town on their way west or east to check on investments had treated me and other lower-born people with contempt and disgust. To them, anyone born out in the Badlands was lowborn and unworthy of their respect.

    My hands clenched into fists, though I knew I wouldn¡¯t win this. How could I when the man surely had a wealth of cards up his sleeves? Quite literally. The sleeves were fine, supple silk, but I had no doubt that there were powerful cards tattooed underneath.

    Still, I didn¡¯t cower to people like him. I brushed myself off, knocking the dust from my trousers and shirt. Of course, that was there already and not this man¡¯s fault, but the theatrics helped my point.

    ¡°That was quite rude of you,¡± I said, feigning one of the posh accents from back East that these hoity-toity rich folks liked to affect upon themselves. It was uppity and pretentious. I stood tall, very unlike most people from these parts who generally got on their hands and knees to cater to the rich folk that passed through town. Not me.

    The man cast a contemptuous glance my way, then brandished his cane like a sword. Then he pulled it apart, and it became twin batons, one in each hand. And the long rods began to crackle with electricity.

    My heart nearly leapt out of my chest, both from fear and from excitement. Elemental magic was a trait that only a [Legendary] card could achieve! I¡¯d never seen elemental magic before, and I was more flabbergasted that it was right in front of me than anything else. Sure, there was the rational voice in my head telling me that this man who thought I was scum was about to end my life and go about his day, but I was too bewitched by the crackling energy to heed those thoughts.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough of this nonsense!¡± roared a voice.

    The man hesitated, turning his gaze from me to the newcomer. It was none other than Master Elloy. He stormed out from the back, swirls of smoke trailing after him as he emerged from the curtain that led to the forging room.

    Elloy was a large man of immense stature, tall as a pine and broad as an oak. He had a long graying beard that fell down to his chest and was braided with several different beads and doodads. It was a far cry from his clean-cut brother, showing the difference in their learning. Elijah had gone to the East where grooming standards were far different.

    Unlike his brother, who wore a thick leather heat apron for his forging, Elloy wore a flowing robe of velvet or corduroy, I wasn¡¯t sure which. It was dark green with golden tassels on the hems of the huge sleeves and gold trim along the collar, waist, and down the middle. His arms were covered, but his strong hands that were large enough to palm my whole head were studded with rings. A tattoo on his right hand showed a swirl of smoke with three small rectangular cards floating over it. It was a skill card tattoo for [Card Creation], one that all Cardsmiths possessed. The only difference was that his had three cards, which meant it was in the third tier of its progression and made it a [Rare] rank. This meant Elloy could forge just about any card below [Transcendent] cards, and I wasn¡¯t even sure that level of card could be forged¡­ or even existed.

    Elloy was a kind man for the most part, though he had his rough edges, and like I said, he had been courteous when Uncle Deebo died. He ran a tight ship and was a shrewd businessman on top of his cardsmithing skills. I¡¯d never known him to be unfair.

    But when he looked at me in this moment, he frowned so deeply that the hair on the back of my neck stood on edge.

    ¡°I can¡¯t deal with you right now, Griff. Are you harassing my customers?¡±

    ¡°Me? I am a customer, and I was here first! He didn¡¯t even take a number.¡± I showed him my number and didn¡¯t care that my voice sounded a bit whiny. The other gentleman harrumphed indignantly.

    Elloy didn¡¯t dispute my claim, but he did something even worse: he ignored me. He plastered on a pleasant smile for the man, his whiskers wriggling as his wide leathery lips turned jovially upward.

    ¡°Ah, Mr. Jadewell, a pleasure to see you again. I wasn¡¯t expecting you today.¡±

    The man, to his credit, did not show the same disdain to Elloy as he had to me. He might have viewed Elloy as someone beneath him, but Elloy was a very necessary someone with a skill you couldn¡¯t get everywhere.

    ¡°I never announce myself, Master Elloy. Would you curse a god for an unexpected summer shower?¡±

    ¡°No, I reckon I wouldn¡¯t. Come on back. Let¡¯s see to what you need.¡±

    And the two men left. No number, no appointment, no waiting. All smiles and no worries. And not a single glance back my way. They disappeared to the back, the curtain fluttering in their wake.

    Landrid looked sympathetic. But only barely. He shrugged and went back to his reading. ¡°Sorry kid, that¡¯s how it goes sometimes.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t even spout a word in argument before the door on the far-left wall banged open, and a ripped young man about Landrid¡¯s age barged in, his face and bare arms covered in soot and dirt. He had a clean-shaven face, though the ash and soot made that fact less obvious.

    ¡°Landrid, we need an extra set of hands, pronto,¡± said Leiter, one of Elijah¡¯s apprentices. Landrid groaned, but he didn¡¯t put up an argument. He simply stood from the desk and trudged over to where the apprentice waited.

    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s hurry it up then, or Master Elloy will tan my hide.¡±

    I was suddenly by myself.

 Chapter 5

    I was all alone in the card shop. Ignored, forgotten, invisible. It wasn¡¯t a feeling I was wholly unused to. It wasn¡¯t a pleasant feeling, but at that moment, I pushed through the anger and resentment and used it to my advantage. With Landrid gone and no one else in the room waiting for an appointment, I was all by my lonesome, and thus, no one was there to watch me. Or stop me.

    I was a sneaky lad. When you¡¯re all alone with no one to care for you in all the world beyond the kindness of your neighbors and fellow townsfolk, you sometimes have to sneak about to get things done. I wasn¡¯t a thief, not really, but I could have been one. I could have been a good one, too, but Uncle Deebo always reproached me and my brother about good morals and virtues.

    ¡°Stealing is a bad thing,¡± he had always said, but usually added. ¡°Unless you are starving or dying, and no one is willing to give you food or medicine. Then it¡¯s fine, because survival trumps certain moral misgivings.¡±

    Well, there was nothing amoral about this. I wasn¡¯t going to steal anything or do anyone harm. All I was going to do was sneak a peek in the back. Sure, I¡¯d been back there before, but Elloy never did his magic around me, and any other time, there had always been someone around to keep me in line.

    Not now. And not when my curiosity and impatience could no longer be quelled.

    My steps were silent as I padded over the wooden floor. They could have squeaked under my weight, as I was not skinny, but I had deft feet, and I knew how to move light on my toes. Not that I thought Elloy would hear me. Already I could hear his words with the snooty rich client, and his own weight crunched and groaned on the wooden floorboards ahead. Jovial laughter resounded.

    ¡°It was a gift from your father?¡± Elloy asked incredulously.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the blueblood replied.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite generous of him.¡±

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s a wealthy man. What can I say, he spoils me.¡±

    I had to keep myself from gagging with annoyance. I kept my mouth shut and any noises muffled. When I finally stood at the edge of the curtain, I allowed myself a moment to steady myself with a deep inhale before sticking my head through.

    Despite all the times I¡¯d been in and around this place, I¡¯d only ever been back there once, and that was at Elloy¡¯s own invitation. That had been right after my uncle died, and I was all alone in the world. He showed me around, but that was it. I was still in my grief, so I hadn¡¯t asked all the questions I should have, and he didn¡¯t show me one of his card creations. I still knew how it worked, more or less. There¡¯d been books and articles ad nauseam written on the subject, and though I wasn¡¯t well learned or read, I could glean some things well enough.

    That said, there was a difference between reading about something and seeing it for yourself with your own two peepers.

    The room behind the curtain was small, just four walls of wood, and not a window to be found. All along the walls on tables and shelves and displays were candles on top of candles, mounds and stacks of wax that melted and shifted as their wicks burned brightly. The room was a whirl of smoke that danced and twisted around the Card Master and the blueblood, more smoke than there ought to have been even, with all of the candles.

    Standing near the center was the blueblood. He was rigid, and I could tell he was nervous. I wondered how much he¡¯d actually done for himself. This seemed like something a servant could have done for him, but then again, it did seem like Elloy knew him and his face.

    The Card Master stood at the center in front of the man. He held a long thing cigarro stick in his lips, and the end glowed with an odd blue-green glow that was not reminiscent of any tobacco or smoking product I¡¯d ever seen. He brought it away from his lips and released a puff of smoke that swam and joined with the rest of the haze. In his other hand was a tool I did recognize. It was a rod of cool black metal, etched with similar swirling designs as seen on most card tattoos. A creation stylus.

    He placed the cigarro back in his mouth then thrust out his free hand to the man. ¡°You know the cost.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    The blueblood nodded. ¡°Two fragments plus my [Uncommon] fragment.¡±

    Master Elloy nodded.

    And my heart sank. That was more than I¡¯d expected. All I had was my one [Common] card fragment. I didn¡¯t have any others. Would I be turned away after all of this time? Could I pay him in regular silver or gold? I had some money saved up, which was why I was finally ready to do this, because I knew my journey would require coins.

    The snob produced the fragments from what looked like a gilded velvet coin purse. First came two silvery [Common] fragments that were even smaller than my own. Then the [Uncommon] fragment, which was probably the size of mine if not a bit bigger. The difference was that it gave off a green glow.

    The stylus shot out and snatched them out of the man¡¯s hands with such speed that I almost jumped and blew my cover. The man flinched even though it seemed he was expecting it. Elloy had a theatrical flair about him and he did a twirl with them, letting them float in the smoke. Then he took his cigarro and let it tease the smoke, twirling it with the cards. They became more incorporeal, melding into the haze all around them. I wondered if the cigarro was just for show or if it played a hand in this whole process.

    I wasn¡¯t sure the exact reasons why it was this way, but I knew enough about cards and their making to know that smoke played a part in it. Something about the realm of monsters beyond the Fissures being a realm of smoke and magic and that the stylus would bend and infuse the smoke with magic that allowed the creation of a card. It would join with the fragments and form something new.

    At least, that¡¯s what the books said.

    I¡¯d never seen the process done before.

    Elloy¡¯s mouth moved, his beard and whiskers trembling with the movement, but I couldn¡¯t make out exactly what he was chanting because he was whispering. The words I could hear were foreign to me. They were words of magic, words from the realm of monsters. They were commands, words of binding and of power, and each one seemed to infuse the smoke with more and more power, until I could feel the charge of magic in the air. The hairs on my arms and neck stuck out straight.

    The Card Master¡¯s arms moved and danced, weaving a tapestry in the very air. He waved his hands with grace and confidence, and finally, he brought the fragments together like puzzle pieces, each one collecting smoke as he did so. They coalesced together, growing brighter and greener, until finally the job was done, and a fully formed card floated between the two men.

    The air was hot, thick with humidity and formless magic. It made me sweat, made my skin itch like being too close to a fire. But I didn¡¯t move. I was transfixed.

    Elloy guided the card into the blueblood¡¯s gloved hands. I couldn¡¯t see what card it was. The back was to me, and it held the same foreign, swirling interlocking pattern that most cards had on their backs, save for the green aura of it.

    ¡°And there you have it,¡± Master Elloy announced, flourishing his arms above his head, stylus and hands parting the smoke before he took a bow.

    ¡°Magnificent as always, Elloy. Always a pleasure to witness your work.¡±

    Elloy smiled, nodded, and took a long drag on his cigarro before exhaling a huge cloud. ¡°Was that what you hoped for?¡±

    The blueblood turned the card around and studied it, but from this angle, I still couldn¡¯t make out what it was. He hemmed and hawed. Then shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I might keep it. But if not, I have a well-connected card trader within the family that will be more than happy to take my business.¡±

    ¡°Merriweather, right?¡±

    The blueblood put a hand to his chest, but it was in mock shock, not real. ¡°Our little secret is out, but I suppose that¡¯s how it must be. Not much of a trader if people don¡¯t know you and don¡¯t trade with you.¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± said Elloy. ¡°Plus, as a smith, I need to be connected to the traders in the area. It¡¯d be bad business not to be, and I¡¯m not in the business of letting my cards get sold on the black market.¡±

    ¡°I understand precisely, my good man. Now, I must be on my way. I have an appointment and a train to catch. A pleasure, as always.¡±

    ¡°The pleasure was all mine.¡±

    The swanky bastard pivoted on his heels as he pocketed his new [Uncommon] card with a smirk and started for the curtain¡ªand for me. I stifled a curse and immediately ducked out of the way. There was no time for me to run back to where I¡¯d been seated at the front by the desk, and they¡¯d hear my boots making the floorboards groan. I was light on my feet when I was sneaking, but there was no way I could move that fast without noise.

    All I could do was hope and pray. I pressed myself against the wall beside the entry and made myself as flat as possible. I held my breath and hoped my heart wasn¡¯t as loud to others as it seemed to me.

    The curtain was thrown open, and it fluttered over my face and snagged on one of my shirt buttons. It left me with one eye clear, which allowed me to see the blueblood stride out with his cane, making a rhythm with his steps. He began to hum a tune I couldn¡¯t identify. He paused by the desk when he saw neither Landrid nor me there, but that didn¡¯t seem to bother him because he immediately continued on his way.

    In a burst of blazing light, he strode into the sunny day and was gone. I stood there a moment longer, not daring to move or even breathe.

    A full minute probably went by before I finally allowed myself to exhale. That was close!

    ¡°Griff? Get on in here, boy. I know you¡¯ve been lurkin¡¯ out there this whole time,¡± called the powerful voice of the Card Master.

    I cursed, still a whisper. I¡¯d been had. My previous excitement had abandoned me, and all I was left with was dread.

 Chapter 6

    I slowly stepped into the room. The curtain still shrouded most of my face, and I was too scared to grab it. Of course, I did eventually. Silly antics like this were funny and endearing when I was a kid, but now, I doubted Master Elloy would find it amusing. I yanked the curtain away and let it fall back to where it stood sentinel over the entryway, shrouding these inner chambers in mystery.

    Elloy had his back to me. Which was good because I wasn¡¯t prepared for the conversation just yet. I had to come up with some excuse, and the longer he kept a silent back to me, the more time I had to formulate a response.

    Unfortunately for me, back or no, he was gonna speak, and he would be heard. ¡°Why you skulkin¡¯ around out there, boy? Cardsmithing is a deeply private thing, and a privileged matter between smith and client.¡±

    I swallowed. ¡°It is?¡±

    In response, Elloy belched so loudly and forcefully that a few of the candles almost went out, their flames trembling on their wicks. Then he laughed and turned to face me.

    ¡°I take it you aren¡¯t here just to spy on my clients. You succeeded, then? You earned your first card frag the good ole-fashioned and honest way?¡±

    I stilled my trembling hand as I pulled my card fragment from my pocket. Next to the fully formed [Uncommon] that Elloy had just forged, my measly [Common] frag didn¡¯t look at all impressive. The light wasn¡¯t as lustrous or shiny. Its aura seemed to have lessened. Or maybe that was my enthusiasm that had dimmed.

    Elloy picked up on this. Naturally, he expected me to be a lot more excited about finally having a card forged. After all, it wasn¡¯t a secret that I had kept. I blabbed and yapped to anyone and everyone about my desires. And I¡¯d had plenty of people offer to buy me fragments or even whole cards, but I didn¡¯t want that charity. I wanted to earn it myself. I wanted to find my brother with my own strength and will. Otherwise, how could I hope to stand side by side with him as an equal?

    Point being, Elloy could see my hesitation and apprehension. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Griff, my boy? You have the fragment, and you earned it, yes?¡±

    I folded my fingers closed over the fragment, snuffing out the dull silvery glow. ¡°I thought I had enough, but I was wrong.¡±

    Elloy frowned and folded his arms after putting his cigarro into his mouth. ¡°What are you blabbering about? I didn¡¯t tell you my price yet.¡±

    ¡°But he had to pay you two extra fragments. That means I ain¡¯t got enough . . .¡±

    Elloy furrowed his eyebrows at me in confusion until it clicked in his head what I was talking about. Then he leaned back and let out a monstrous bellow of a laugh, his hands clutching his large belly.

    ¡°Oh, Griff, my boy. That wasn¡¯t the regular price. Mr. Jadewell is rich and a bit of a pompous ass, to be quite frank. But his money is good, and he can pay what I charge. For him and his lot, I upcharge for my services. So, for him, it¡¯s two fragments as payment, but for you and the good citizens of this town and the many travelers that come through here, it will usually just be one fragment. It isn¡¯t in my purview to cheat honest folk.¡±

    That was good news to an extent. But I still only had the one fragment that was the foundation of my card. I didn¡¯t have an extra.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad to hear that, and I think that swanky bastard shoulda¡¯ had an even bigger charge, but I only have one fragment, Master Elloy. I can¡¯t pay you an extra fragment.¡±

    He looked me over, his lips pursed as he thought. He brought his cigarro to his lips and took a drag before blowing smoke in my face. I coughed, waving a hand to ward off the smoke. He laughed at that.

    ¡°You know, I do have a lot of spare fragments, and when someone can¡¯t afford the trade-in cost, I do take silver and gold. Or coppers if you have a truly insane amount. Not everyone in this town trades in fragments, so I accept coins too. One fragment is fifty silvers. Do you have that much saved up?¡±

    ¡°Fifty?¡± I asked, dismayed. I did have fifty silvers. I actually had about eighty in my bag. I had maybe another sixty at the house, and together, that was going to fund my journey for a time as I traveled. Fifty silver was a big hit, but I also knew I didn¡¯t want to go out and try to get another fragment.

    ¡°Yeah, I got it,¡± I told him.

    ¡°Good. Then we can proceed.¡±

    He turned his back to me again and went over to one of the tables against the wall that didn¡¯t have any candles on it. There were supplies that I couldn¡¯t really make out and jars of herbs and potions much like what you¡¯d find in Granny Twellin¡¯s shop. He uncorked a large glass vial containing what I thought might have been tobacco, but as soon as the cork came free and he took a pinch out, the dark herb had a reddish mystical glow to it. He snapped his cigarro in half with one strong hand and poured the glowing stuff inside. I jumped when he snapped it because I thought he¡¯d just broken the cigarro for no reason, but I realized it could be opened from the middle. A neat trick.

    Once it was packed, he clicked it back to normal, held the end over one of the nearby candles, and took some drags before it reignited. As he did, the smoke puffed around him, and he turned back to me.

    ¡°Now, before we begin, listen closely, because I suspect on your journey, you will go to other cardsmiths across the Badlands, and you should know how card creation works before you do, so you don¡¯t bother them.¡±

    I nodded, eager to learn, though I had a good basis of knowledge already.

    ¡°For a [Common] card, you only need the single fragment to form the card, of course. Most Cardsmiths also charge a fragment for that service. But from just a material requirement standpoint, you only need the one fragment for the actual process. The same goes for an [Uncommon] card, though the fragment has to be [Uncommon] too. You can also take four [Common] fragments to make an [Uncommon] card. Now, for [Rare] cards, you need a [Rare] card fragment and two to three [Common] card fragments to be able to forge them. From there, it grows at about the same rate, so you can probably guess how much you need for what level of card you desire. Most Cardsmiths¡ªand even general stores and bookstores¡ªcan give you a conversion chart.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°And do you have a conversion chart?¡±

    Master Elloy put his hands up. ¡°Fresh out, I¡¯m afraid. I have my original copy, but I use that to make more copies at the printing press. Before you leave town, I¡¯d advise you to head over to the printer. Mr. and Mrs. Calbuck might have a spare. But for now, I think you should be fine with what I told you. I¡¯m not expecting you to be getting [Epic] or even [Rare] cards anytime soon.¡±

    I supposed he was right. It had taken me forever to muster up the courage to go and get a measly [Common] card fragment. Getting anything more would take time. Baby steps and all that. Of course, it was possible to work for cards and fragments, but I could go down that route later if need be. For now, I wanted to get my first card, then hit the road at long last.

    ¡°Any questions?¡± he asked.

    I blinked. ¡°I . . . I don¡¯t think so.¡± I actually had a million questions, but none were super important at this moment, and with my excitement returning to me, I wanted to get this done.

    Elloy nodded. He took a long drag as he held his hand out to me. I looked at the open palm that indicated for me to place something in the center. So, I fished out my fragment again and was about to hand it to him, but his hand recoiled as if I had held out a snake about to bite him.

    ¡°Not the fragment, your money. I told you it was fifty silvers . . . unless you plan to give me five thousand coppers or half a gold.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right. Sorry.¡± Cheeks heated, I found my coin purse, opened the metal clasp, and fished out most of my money, which hurt, but it was what it was. At least now, I knew. Going forward, get multiple fragments before doing anything.

    Elloy didn¡¯t count the coins, which I appreciated. I paid him the full amount, but it was nice that he trusted me not to rip him off. He pocketed them within the folds of his robe.

    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s begin, shall we?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more.¡±

    Master Elloy smiled. He grabbed his stylus from the small case on the same table as the herbs and potions, and then we got started.

    The procedure was much the same as what I¡¯d seen when I was sneaking around and snooping on Elloy and the blueblood. Only this time, I had a front row seat. My fragment floated from my palm and glided into the air with delicate grace before Elloy used his cigarro and stylus in tandem as he took hold of my card fragment, plucking it out of the air with a flourish.

    ¡°Is the cigarro part of this or is it just for added flair?¡± I asked him midcreation.

    As much as I¡¯d read about cardsmithing and talked about it with other people, I¡¯d never heard of a cigarro being used. I supposed it could help add smoke and guide it. I had heard some Cardsmiths used other devices like that, so maybe that was it too.

    He promptly shushed me, and I zipped my trap shut. He put his cigarro to his lips for a moment so he could retrieve another fragment from his numerous bags beneath his robes. That fragment began to glow in earnest as it was picked up within a swirl of smoke, floating upward. Then, Elloy grabbed the cigarro and began to speak the creation spell.

    Even up close as I was, I couldn¡¯t make out the words that he was speaking. He muttered under his breath, and they were unintelligible for the most part. I did hear some sounds, but I gathered that he was not speaking my language, so I stopped trying to guess what he was saying or glean the meaning of the words. It was part of the process, and I trusted him to get it all done. Besides, the precise wording of a creation spell was a guarded secret. Also, functionally useless even if you knew the words unless you had a stylus and a card-making tattoo of your own.

    To be honest, I was a bit mad at myself for snooping earlier. This might have been a lot more meaningful and magical to me if I hadn¡¯t just seen him perform the same act for Mr. Jadewell. It was the end result that mattered. The card in my hand, the feeling and burn of it as I placed it on my skin.

    When the card began to form in earnest, I did become more excited, and that sense of wonder returned.

    My card fragment floated in front of me, large and gray. The one he¡¯d pulled out spun around us with increasing speed as he turned in the smoke, the haze twisting and dancing like figures in the dark. It felt more dramatic than what he did for the rich guy, but I didn¡¯t mind. Maybe it was just theatrics, but I appreciated the effort.

    As the creation reached a crescendo, the spinning fragment slowed and came to join with my own fragment. They combined in a flash of bright silver-and-white light that had me covering my eyes with my hands for a moment before the brightness finally dimmed. When it was done, Master Elloy let his arms drop at his sides, and his breath slowed.

    ¡°And it is done,¡± he said.

    He guided the card with his stylus toward me. I put both hands out in front of me, cupped together, as the card came to rest in my palms. It was bright, but the glow slowly faded until the image of the card formed, and I was able to make out what it was.

    <blockquote>

    Common Card: Combat Skill: Polearm Proficiency, Tier 1

    </blockquote>

    The image on the card was a stylized illustration of a figure wielding a halberd against some sort of monster, though the image was shadowy and formless, so I couldn¡¯t identify the monster. Even the person didn¡¯t really have any defining features. Just an inky approximation of a human. But the image was clear, and I smiled.

    ¡°This is awesome,¡± I said, breathless. My words were almost reverent.

    Elloy bowed to me, and I returned the gesture. When we both straightened, he was smiling, and it was so warm and genuine, I was almost taken aback.

    ¡°Is that what you want? I can guide what a card will be if it¡¯s a fragment, but I can¡¯t nail down what it will be exactly. There are some masters who can, but it requires the highest tier of the [Card Creation] skill card and even more knowledge on top of that. The card trader will give you a good deal. We have an arrangement, so you¡¯ll get a discount so long as you use the secret codeword.¡±

    I arched an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s the codeword?¡±

    ¡°Smithereens.¡±

    I guffawed. ¡°Okay, I love that.¡± Then I scratched my growing stubble. ¡°Um, I¡¯m not sure. I was hoping for [Pugilism] or [Swordsmanship], like Deebo and Gareth.¡±

    Master Elloy nodded. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure Mr. Lyles will have those and others to choose from. If you want to know a secret, [Polearm] cards are a rare find. Everyone wants swords or guns, but I think staffs and spears and the like are very underrated.

    I stared at the card for a long moment. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±

    ¡°Good, good, take your time. There¡¯s no need to rush it, eh?¡±

    He was right, of course. There was no reason that I needed to trade for the card I wanted and leave town that very day. I could take another day or two, and maybe I would, just so I could be doubly prepared for my journey. I¡¯d have to think it over.

    The two of us left the backroom and returned to the main foyer. Landrid was back behind the desk, whistling a tune and leafing through a book. There weren¡¯t anymore clients waiting their turns. Typical. Of course, I¡¯d be last, but that was fine. It was done, and I had my first card! Landrid didn¡¯t even bother looking back at us.

    I bowed to the Card Master again. ¡°Thank you, Master Elloy.¡± And as I said it, I knew it was for more than just this card that I was thanking him. It was for being kind to me all these years, for not throwing me out the first moment I skulked into his shop. We didn¡¯t have a perfect relationship. I didn¡¯t have one of those with anyone, but he and the other townsfolk had been kind and neighborly when they didn¡¯t have any reason to be.

    ¡°No problem, Griffin. We¡¯ll miss having you around.¡±

    I swear, I did not tear up. I didn¡¯t.

    He smiled. ¡°Now go. Think on what you want to do. And if you do end up keeping the card, my brother can get you properly outfitted. If you have the coin.¡±

    Well, that was a big if, but I nodded.

    I pulled the door open, letting sunlight flow into the space. Landrid basically hissed at the sudden light, but he grabbed his hat and covered his eyes and continued on with his reading. I eyed Elloy one last time. He was smiling, his cheeks large and plump and jolly. He waved, and I returned the gesture, and I was gone.

 Chapter 7

    I was humming with excitement as I strode down the road away from the smithies. My grin spread from ear to ear as I looked at my card. Despite what Master Elloy said, I was on my way to the Card Trader. Not necessarily to trade it for something else, but I wanted to see my options so I could make the right decision. Maybe I¡¯d keep it. Maybe I¡¯d trade for Pugilism or Swordsmanship, or maybe there would be another card that spoke to me that I could trade for.

    This card represented possibilities, and that made me giddy.

    The Card Trader was on the other side of town. I cut through the north side of town near my house and traveled past a row of tall wooden town houses and shops, including a barber and a cobbler, though both of those were currently unoccupied as the owners had died or left. During the walk, I only spied a few of my fellow Parroians out and about.

    Until a bunch of hooligans sauntered out of the saloon to my left. The Angry Donkey was a dingy little joint that no self-respecting lady or gentleman would frequent, and most locals didn¡¯t go there either, even if it was less crowded than the busy saloons near the train station. It was an unsavory place for unsavory types who passed through town a lot, and I didn¡¯t want to go where they congregated.

    That bunch fit the bill to a T. Except for one, whom they dragged out with them. The man was better dressed than the others and was clearly not a friend of theirs. The other four men were all dirtier and looked really drunk. They dragged the better-dressed man into the alley. It looked like they had roughed him up already. I could see that blood stained his face and his shirt as he pleaded for them to stop.

    The man wasn¡¯t familiar to me, but that didn¡¯t mean I was going to ignore it. Since he wore a white shirt with a tight, pressed collar and a clerk¡¯s vest, I wondered if he was a traveling salesman. His type passed through town a lot. He was a young man with soft features, a hairless face, and a small nose that was now red, bruised, and bleeding profusely. His glasses were already cracked, and one eye beneath was cut and bloodied.

    I did, however, recognize some of his assailants. Two of the four were rough types that lived around Parroia: Elryck and Thoman. Both fatherless young drunks who liked to harass urchins, vagrants, and women when they could get away with it. They spent more than their fair share of nights in the clink, but for some reason, they weren¡¯t kicked out of town or locked up for more than a night or two. Probably because they were often shanghaied into working the mines or manning the walls when there was a monster incursion from a nearby Fissure. It¡¯s always good to have people who will do such things, but that also meant tolerating human scum like these two.

    The other two men, I didn¡¯t recognize. They were a few years older, but they had the same cruelty to their eyes. Maybe they were bandits or just drunks who liked to cause trouble. Why they were beating up this man, I couldn¡¯t begin to guess, but I had a bad feeling that if I didn¡¯t do something, the man was going to wind up dead.

    I glanced about, but there was no one else around, which wasn¡¯t too surprising. It was afternoon, and everyone was either taking their noon naps or busy working. This part of town was mostly storehouses or homes, so they didn¡¯t get a lot of foot traffic during the day.

    No one would be coming to help this man.

    I looked at my card. I wished it was a [Strength] card, which would have imbued me with enhanced strength. Even a [Common] level [Strength] card could be an ace in the hole. Or a [Swordsmanship] or [Pugilist] card, like I had wanted. Unfortunately, all I had was a [Polearm and Staff Proficiency] skill card with no weapon. Even if I had a weapon, once I used a card and burned it into my flesh, it cost a whole lot to get it removed. If I used it, there would be no trading it in for what I wanted.

    But if I did nothing . . . then I wouldn¡¯t even deserve that stupid card. If I did nothing, how could I ever face my brother? How could I face my parents one day in the afterlife, or my uncle?

    I wasn¡¯t a coward. I wasn¡¯t selfish. I had plenty of flaws, for sure, and I wasn¡¯t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but my uncle Deebo had raised me better. I stood up for what was right, and I tried my best to help people when I could. And I could not abide bullies. Hell no.

    And then I saw it. As my eyes took in the men and the alley, I glimpsed a long metal pole leaning against the wooden wall, wedged between some boxes and old sacks of rotten food. I realized that it had to be one of the long iron rods they used to brace walls. They occasionally popped up around town because the walls needed reinforcing. It wasn¡¯t exactly a polearm or staff, but it was close and I knew it would be far better than being unarmed. Why it was there, I will never know, but I chalked it up to some divine serendipity or another.

    I had no other option other than to make the hard choice.

    There would be another time for me to get the skills that I wanted, but right then, a man needed my help, and this was the hand I was dealt. So, I would play it.

    I rolled up my sleeve to the elbow. Then, after a heavy gulp, I slapped the card to my skin and held it there.

    The jolt was immediate. There was a searing pain like getting branded, but I¡¯d have to guess not quite as painful. I was breathless for a moment as the shock tore through me, and the pain made my arm tingle, a lot like a regular tattoo. It was a pain I had experienced before¡ªI had a rooster tattoo on my leg in remembrance of Uncle Deebo.

    It felt hot and cold at once, and the shocking sensation made me vibrate with energy.

    And then, just like that, the pain and the new sensation were gone. I looked at my hands as if they were brand-new. They didn¡¯t look any different, nor did they feel any different, but I knew they were.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    <blockquote>

    SKILL SYSTEM ACTIVATED: ASSESSING . . .

    </blockquote>

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile. I had waited my entire life for the message that came when you used your first card, unlocking the magic system that broadcast signals and information to card wielders. It was a valuable tool when fighting monsters¡ªor people. It let you know basic details about visible card tattoos on people plus more detailed information on monsters. There were more benefits, as well, but I was pretty ignorant at that point, so I didn¡¯t know what else exactly I was getting. It also gave all the information about your personal cards.

    <blockquote>

    <u>New Card Activated: Polearm and Staff Proficiency</u>

    Level: Common, Tier 1

    Grants card holder basic proficiency with pole and staff weaponry such as spears, staffs, halberds, and poleaxes. Provides the additional benefit of enhanced reflexes.

    Focus: Hands, Arms

    Incompatibility: Feet, Legs

    Synergy: Stacking.

    </blockquote>

    Cards didn¡¯t all convey the same uses and benefits, and those varied further by where they were placed. The skills they conveyed often corresponded with where they would be most useful. When put in the optimal spot, you got more of a boost with the skill. For instance, a [Hand-to-Hand Combat] card would obviously be most effective when placed on the hands. A [Speed] card was best placed on your legs or feet. There were also places you couldn¡¯t put certain cards. A [Pugilism] card couldn¡¯t be put on the legs, and [Speed] had to be on the lower body or the torso, not the arms or head. The farther you placed a card from its optimal placement, the less benefit you would get from it.

    I¡¯d have liked more time to analyze my new card. A part of me was so excited about this new feeling, even if there was another part still disappointed that I didn¡¯t have [Pugilism] or [Swordsmanship] like I¡¯d hoped but that was okay.

    I had to deal with these goons first. My eyes flew to the one closest to me, Elryck. There was a bit of text over his head, and when I focused my gaze on it, the text appeared crystal clear and close in my vision.

    <blockquote>

    Card Detected: Pugilism, Common, Tier 1

    </blockquote>

    From these words, a silvery line of light pointed to the stylized inky tattoo of crossed fists on his right hand.

    The card-scanning system inside me could see any visible active cards on a human opponent and assess them. I had to be able to see the tattoos, though, so if they were covered, I wouldn¡¯t know about them. But if your card tattoos were uncovered, then your opponent could read you like a book. Hence why most people covered up.

    Elryck had another card on his forearm, but it was a simple [Cooking] card. My eyes went to Thoman, but he and one of the nameless goons didn¡¯t have any cards, or none that I could see. That wasn¡¯t surprising. After all, cards weren¡¯t cheap, and if you didn¡¯t buy them with coins or get paid with cards or card fragments in compensation for jobs or services rendered, that meant you had to go and kill monsters to get them like I had. And obviously, that was a tall task when you didn¡¯t have the aid of any cards.

    Thoman, I thought probably made enough to afford a card when he was forced to work the mines or the walls, but again, he and Elryck were drunks, and they spent their hard-earned coins poorly.

    The final man¡¯s arms were bare, and there were three cards inked on them. On his right hand, a [Knife] proficiency card. On his left hand, a [Strength] card, which would be a problem added to the [Knife] card, though as of yet, he wasn¡¯t wielding a knife, but I had no doubt he had one hidden on himself somewhere. The final card was on his right bicep, and it was a large, stylized hammer that went with the [Warhammer and Large Blunt Weapons] card. Unlike a knife that could be hidden, I was pretty sure he didn¡¯t have a club or hammer.

    This man pushed the clerk against the wall, who crumpled to the ground. Then he grabbed him by the collar and got in his face. He said something that I couldn¡¯t hear, and then he produced a knife from his belt.

    I cursed and took a step forward. No more delays. ¡°Hey, leave ¡¯em alone, you sorry sack of crap!¡±

    That got all of their attention. They turned to look at me, and knife man dropped his arm and lowered his knife. I kept my eyes on all of them and the clerk, but I was aware of where the metal rod was. I had to get to it if I wanted a chance to win this.

    Elryck squinted at me. Which I understood. They were in the shadows of the alley, and I was out in the sun, plus I wore my straw hat a bit low to ward off the harsh light, so my face wasn¡¯t clearly visible. But he did recognize me.

    ¡°Hey, is that you, Griff? Piss off, lad. You don¡¯t want this trouble, and we ain¡¯t got a beef with you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, shut up, Elryck! You can¡¯t go beating on strangers. Maybe it won¡¯t be me, but the law will come for you too.¡±

    Thoman stood straighter, though he swayed a bit. Definitely drunk. The goon without tattoos also swayed a bit. That was an advantage I couldn¡¯t pass up because inebriation affected card powers just the same as it affected the body and mind. Four on one¡ªI needed every bit of help I could get.

    He brought out a baton that he had strapped to his belt. It was long and looked like polished wood, like he really took care of it, which surprised me. I hoped he didn¡¯t have a proficiency card for it or a hidden [Strength] card, but even without those, he might be skilled with it on his own. I had to be weary.

    The knife man grinned wickedly. He had a couple of gold teeth and a couple of missing ones, too, his mouth yellow and stained from too much tobacco and alcohol. He used the knife to part the curtain of filthy, stringy hair from his face, then he pointed it at me.

    ¡°We¡¯re just havin¡¯ ourselves a nice gentleman¡¯s disagreement is all. Alright, lad? No need for you to get hurt, now.¡±

    I crossed my arms. ¡°You can be on your way, or I can get the sheriff and deputies and even one of the hunters. Choice is yours, partner.¡±

    He sneered at me. ¡°Or I can gut ya and throw you in the lake. Then no one will come looking for us. How¡¯s that sound . . . partner?¡±

    I looked between the four of them. All of them were keyed up, ready for a fight, though Elryck, who looked like the only one with some sense, hesitated. I hoped he¡¯d try to talk his friends down.

    I wasn¡¯t a slouch even without a card. I¡¯d gotten into my fair share of brawls and scraps, and I could hold my own, though I wasn¡¯t an expert. More than that, I was well known and generally liked by people in town, even if I did get on folk¡¯s nerves sometimes. They wouldn¡¯t want to see me dead, and they¡¯d notice if I was gone. Plus, there were people around, witnesses in the buildings and in the saloon. These men would be taking a risk trying to fight and kill me here.

    Please see reason, I pleaded silently. I willed it, prayed for it, did my best to manifest it into existence. And for a moment, I thought it might come to pass.

    And then the knife man spit on the ground, a glob of putrid black saliva that meant he must have some chew packed by his lips, then he let loose a string of unflattering curses my way.

    ¡°I¡¯m sick of your words, lad. Come on, boys, let¡¯s show ¡¯im a real Badlands negotiation.¡±

    Then he was running for me, knife at the ready, and the others followed. I was in for the fight of my life. But strangely, I didn¡¯t feel any fear.

    Instead, I was overcome with exhilaration. Exhilaration at the fact that I had a card, and I was about to use it to whoop some ass.

 Chapter 8

    They came at me with a ferocity and anger I wouldn¡¯t have expected from them. It took me a moment to get over my shock, but that moment nearly cost me. The taller goon without any visible cards threw a punch and grazed my cheek. I moved just enough to keep from losing some teeth, but the force of it knocked me back. That was when Thoman swung his baton. I did all I could to dodge him. He was slow, but his skill was good.

    I was able to duck my head and avoid a skull-cracking blow, but the attack caught my shoulder. It was a glancing blow, but I felt jarring pain. I suspected that the only reason I dodged it at all was my new enhanced reflexes which had allowed me¡ªor more like forced me¡ªto instinctively dodge. They could keep me alive but not forever. I had to go on the offensive.

    When he hit me in the shoulder, I allowed him to turn me and guide me toward the alley, despite the pain. He thought I would drop or fall backwards, but instead, he spun me around him, and that gave me the opening I needed.

    I came face-to-face with Elryck, who sneered and came at me with his fists raised. He swung, but I ducked the blow easily and slid beneath his legs. As I did, I lifted with my non-injured shoulder and upended him. He cursed in confusion as I toppled him. Then I was running for the rod.

    The clerk looked at me in a bloody daze. He was aware of what was happening, but he didn¡¯t leave. Maybe he was too hurt, or maybe he too was drunk and didn¡¯t have the faculties to make a wise decision. Or perhaps he was simply frozen in fear. Sometimes, people responded like that, and that wasn¡¯t anything to be ashamed of. Some people fought, some people ran, some people froze. We all had different instincts.

    Whatever the case, I needed him to get out of here. I slid to a stop by him, the box, and the rod. I put a strong hand on his shoulder and gave him a forceful shove.

    ¡°Get out of here, friend, go get help!¡± I told him.

    That seemed to sober him or snap him out of his panicked stupor, because his eyes focused, and he scrambled to his feet and started running down the alley. I smiled. That was one problem out of the way.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna kill you, Griff!¡± roared Thoman as he thundered up behind me, his footsteps heavy. No more time to delay.

    I scooped up the rod, twirled around, and brought the long shaft up in time to block his blow. It fell upon me with such weight and strength that I thought surely the rod would snap in half or at least bend, but it seemed he didn¡¯t have a [Strength] card on him after all.

    I smiled as he looked at me in shock. Surely, he¡¯d know that I had a card. Mine was visible at the moment, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe he didn¡¯t have any cards, even hidden under his clothes.

    I pushed back against him. Thoman was strong. You needed to be to work the mines as long as he had, but he also drank too much and obviously didn¡¯t take care of himself very well.

    Maybe it was my own very real strength, or maybe it was adrenaline, but I pushed him back easily. I pushed so hard that his arms flew up, and his baton flew away, and he left himself completely open. He was dumfounded, and for a moment, I felt bad for what I was about to do, but I couldn¡¯t hesitate. The other three were already coming at me from behind him, and I had to get him out of the way. The hard way.

    With my new skills, I whipped out with the lower end of the rod and caught him in the gut. That caused him to double over, and in that same motion, I brought the other end of the rod to bear, flicking it up and into his chin. I felt the crunch, the painful jarring jolt as metal met jaw. A tooth went flying. Blood spurted from his mouth, and his head whipped back as he was flung away from me.

    That was one down. Three to go.

    Elryck was enraged by my attack on his friend. He charged me with surprising speed. He was lithe and lean and quick on his feet. I¡¯d seen him take on two men twice his size in a bar fight once, and I didn¡¯t think he had his [Pugilism] card back then. But he had it now.

    As mad as he was, he didn¡¯t allow that to cloud his skill. He launched a barrage of punches and jabs at me. Precise, strong hits, and it was all I could do to block each one with my rod. He winced as his fists met metal, but it didn¡¯t deter him as much as I¡¯d have liked. He kept me busy, and we danced, flesh to metal, fist to rod.

    This allowed the taller goon without any cards to circle around us, and then he jumped at me. Thinking fast, I had to disengage with Elryck. The goon dove at me, full head of steam about him and drunk too. The old Griff might have been knocked on his butt, but now I was quicker, my mind sharper. I dropped to the ground, my knees bending deeper than they had ever bent before, though there was no pain. My back kissed the ground, and my rod was knocked to the side by one of Elryck¡¯s blows.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Two things happened at once. The goon, as he dove for me, partially slammed into Elryck, which threw him off balance. The man flew over me as I was on the ground, and Elryck, stunned, came forward too much.

    I, however, had my full faculties, and I was high on my new skill. I erupted out of my flat stance, swinging up with all my strength. Elryck saw this at the last moment and got a forearm up to block me. He did, but my attack was bone breaking. He howled in pain, recoiling. But he wasn¡¯t quick enough. The other end of my rod smashed into his cheek, and he was down for the count.

    Behind you, screamed the voice in my head, and good thing, because I sidestepped at the last instant as the goon stumbled past me. He tripped over Elryck¡¯s unconscious body.

    ¡°Holy crap,¡± I wheezed. My breaths came heavy and labored, but I still had a lot of fight left in me. I¡¯d been in so many scrapes, and I¡¯d won and lost plenty, but never had I felt so good.

    Two down, two¡ªno, only one to go. Before I could try to finish off the tall goon, his knifey friend did it for me.

    ¡°Useless, Web, useless,¡± he sneered, and promptly kicked his friend in the temple. The taller goon groaned and then stilled. Poor Web.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t very gentlemanly of you,¡± I said.

    Knifey spat another glob of tobacco spit onto the ground. Well, onto Web¡¯s mess of dirty brown curls. ¡°Three blokes and they can¡¯t even take down a stupid little dip spit like you. Pathetic.¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just too skilled.¡±

    ¡°Oh, shut your trap.¡±

    ¡°Make me.¡±

    What I always found true about the denizens of the uglier, darker side of society is that they were a bit stupid and quick to anger, which made them easy to goad and manipulate. Maybe it wasn¡¯t all their fault. Maybe society failed them in some way, and in that case, I felt bad for them, but that didn¡¯t give them a license to be dirtbags who went around hurting people. So, it was easy to bait him, and he took it wonderfully.

    Difference was, this man was a fighter, and one with good cards. I had my work cut out for me.

    He jabbed at me with his knife, and I blocked it just in time. He was quick, though my new reflexes could keep up. However, the [Strength] card on his hand made the attack a lot more powerful. The blade didn¡¯t pierce my rod or bend it, but the force of it knocked me back.

    He sprung again as I was stumbling back, and I was only just able to dodge. His fist flew past me and slammed into the wooden wall behind me. He punched clean through. Then he was bringing the knife back around, and I deflected it. This time, I was able to use my own momentum to bring the lower end of my rod up to strike him. I didn¡¯t have his strength, but when I caught him in the side, I was sure it still hurt like hell. He staggered back and slammed into the other building hard.

    ¡°Son of a¡ª¡±

    He launched himself, jumping higher and farther than he should have been able to, which made me think he had cards on his legs. I had to drop and roll away from him because I knew his blow would kill me. And I was right, because when his legs slammed into the ground, the dry rock cracked and cratered underfoot.

    ¡°Shifty little git, ain¡¯tcha?¡±

    I sucked in air as I rolled into a crouch and held my rod out in front of me. I was prepared for him to launch another attack, but that wasn¡¯t what he did. At least, not with his whole body. Instead, he ran, jumped, spun, and then threw his knife at me. The added strength and speed sent the knife sailing at me like a bullet.

    ¡°Crap!¡± I cried.

    I managed to dodge, but the knife sliced through my shift and clipped my left shoulder, causing me some pain. Had I been a second slower, it might have annihilated my shoulder.

    That said, the knife had taken all of my effort and focus, and thus, left me wide open. Knifey was on me in an instant, and he tackled me around the waist and drove me to the ground. The breath left me as pain jarred through my bones. I was lucky my head didn¡¯t crack against the ground, but that was a very slim silver lining.

    Before I could even hope to fight back, he wrenched my rod away and tossed it aside and out of reach. Then he punched me in the face. I saw stars; I saw red. I felt red. I tasted blood and felt a loose tooth and the pain was blinding. Literally.

    I was lucky again that he didn¡¯t decide to pummel me into crimson chunks. Instead, he let his arms fall as he straddled me, his sneer so wicked and gleeful, it gave me chills through my pain.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have messed with us, kid,¡± he said as he took a deep breath.

    He straightened over me and produced a second knife, which shouldn¡¯t have surprised me. I was lucky that he hadn¡¯t pulled out a hammer since he had me beat there with card levels, and I might already be dead if he¡¯d had one.

    Am I about to die? I wondered. It seemed likely. And so unfair that I finally got a card, was ready to head out on my journey, and now I was going to die before ever getting the chance? That was a sick joke.

    ¡°Say goodbye,¡± he said and raised the knife over his head with both hands. I knew that even if I used both my arms, my strength wouldn¡¯t be able to match his. I still struggled and writhed, trying to throw him free, but it was no use. His legs were a vice grip around me, and his mass was stout and heavy.

    I was done, I knew it.

    Except I wasn¡¯t.

    He never got the chance. Suddenly, a lasso appeared overhead and dropped over his body without his knowing. The second he noticed, the second his brows pinched tight, the lasso drew tight, and he was yanked clear out of his boots. Slamming against the ground with a breathtaking blow, he let out a slew of curses. The man was not one to give up, and somehow managed to maneuver his arms and get his knife under the rope. A normal man without cards might have been stuck, but he leveraged his strength and snapped the rope.

    But it didn¡¯t matter. It was over. Just as he started to struggle to his feet, the distinct sound of several rifles and revolvers being cocked sounded behind him. He was strong and fast, but he couldn¡¯t dodge or out-tough a barrage of bullets.

    ¡°Gaul Fredders, the Rock-Paper-Scissors bandit, you are under arrest,¡± said a strong and deep voice behind Knifey. Despite my pain. I smiled. I was saved.

    ¡°Says who?¡± asked Fredders, perplexed and enraged.

    ¡°Says the law, says the people of Parroia, says I, Sheriff Whitman.¡±

    The calvary had arrived, courtesy of the bloodied clerk and the good honest people of Parroia.

 Chapter 9

    I climbed to my feet, though it hurt to do so. Knifey glared at me. I scowled right back at him, then grabbed my rod and used it as a crutch. My ribs hurt a spell, and both my shoulders were beat to hell.

    Fredders still held his knife, but he was in no position to use it lest he wanted to get riddled with holes and never be able to drink whiskey without it falling right out of him.

    Sheriff Whitman leveled the rifle at Fredders¡¯ head. ¡°You better drop it, friend, unless you want a bullet in your brain. Give me any reason at all. They¡¯d give me a parade.¡±

    Knife man scowled, his nostrils flaring so wide that you could shove cherries inside. He dropped his knife as the sheriff had ordered and put his hands over his head. The sheriff nodded to one of the deputies, Mack, who went over to him with some rope. He wrenched the goon¡¯s arms behind his back and tied his wrists together before kneeing him in the rear to get him marching.

    ¡°Take him to the clink and have a messenger boy send for Mr. Lyles so we can see about getting this here hooligan¡¯s cards removed.¡±

    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±

    Mack and one of the other deputies led the brigand away, who was cursing up a storm until the second deputy reached into her pocket and took out a bit of cloth to stuff into his mouth to silence him.

    Good riddance!

    ¡°What a mess,¡± said the sheriff. He holstered his rifle on his back and padded forward, using his boot to push the faces of the knocked-out men. When he saw Thoman and Elryck, he had a mixed look of disappointment and disgust that flashed across his face as he shook his head. He flicked the top of his gray cap, the denim brim faded and worn, but the star on the center of it gleamed a bright silver, same as the one on his chest.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t gotten in trouble in a while, Griff, my boy. Why break that streak?¡±

    I spat blood out of my mouth¡ªand a tooth. Damn. I plucked it out of the dirt and pocketed it. I would need to see Twellin and hope she had a potion that could regrow teeth.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t no trouble, Sheriff. I saw this lot being not-so law abidin¡¯ and threatening that good man there,¡± I said, indicating the clerk that had come with the sheriff and deputies. He was still dusty and bloody, but he wasn¡¯t shivering or sniveling, so that was a good sign.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t leave it alone, sir. Had to do my civic duty.¡±

    ¡°Civic duty . . .¡± the sheriff said. He chuckled, then walked right up to me. Sheriff Whitman looked me up and down, his eyes noting my card. ¡°Good lad, finally got yerself a card, eh?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir, fresh as can be.¡±

    He nodded, smiling, his mustache wriggling like a chipmunk getting snug on his face. ¡°You did good, kid, but in the future, I¡¯d advise you to get some help. Next time, you might not be so lucky. You never know what cards some people might be packin¡¯.¡±

    ¡°I understand that, but if I¡¯d left, there¡¯s no way you would have gotten here before they killed the man.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, maybe. All I¡¯m sayin¡¯ is, be careful. You got a good head on your shoulders. Try to use it as much as possible. Don¡¯t be like those two clowns.¡± That last sentence he said as he eyed the unconscious bodies of Elryck and Thoman, whom another deputy was tying up. ¡°We ought to just lock ¡¯em in the slammer and throw the key away. They¡¯re strong arms for the mines, and we rely on that output, but they ain¡¯t even a bit useful when they¡¯re on the wall. Ain¡¯t got no aim, and even when they¡¯re sober, they¡¯re stupid.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind, sir. You ain¡¯t got to worry about me.¡±

    The sheriff nodded. ¡°I know. Good luck out there, kiddo. It¡¯s a hard and dangerous world, and it ain¡¯t just the monsters you need concern yourself with. The people can be even worse. A lot worse sometimes.¡±

    I gave him a salute. He smiled, returned the gesture, and then he and the rest of his deputies hauled Web, Elryck, and Thoman back to the jailhouse. I watched them go. My heart beat so hard and my blood pumped so loud through my head, it was like church bells directly in my skull. I didn¡¯t care about Web, but I did sincerely hope Thoman and Elryck would get their crap together.

    Otherwise, it would be the hangman¡¯s noose waiting for them eventually. Or some Badlands justice. Neither would be kind to them.

    I was about to leave and head over to Granny Twellin to get some potions, but I saw the clerk-looking man was still there. Waiting for me.

    ¡°You doing okay?¡± I asked him. ¡°Hope they didn¡¯t rough you up too bad.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°I will be okay. Thank you, stranger, I thought I was a goner. No one was going to come for me, not in this town and these parts, but you¡¯re a good man.¡±

    I tipped my hat to him. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it, friend. What¡¯s yer name?¡± He had a posh accent, which made me think, or rather know, that he was from back East.

    He pulled out a small case from his bag. Inside lay a fresh pair of glasses. It was smart to have an extra pair out in these parts. He wiped the lenses with a soft cloth, then put the glasses on his face.

    He smiled. ¡°Melvyn Fellgroove, Esquire. I work for the Railway Commission. I travel with some others. We go from town to town inspecting the lines, making sure everything is running according to schedule, making sure no monsters or bandits have caused any ruptures in our operations. After all, without the lines, the towns of the Badlands would be isolated, and against a horde of monsters, you never want to be alone.¡±

    ¡°I hear that. That¡¯s some good work you do, but I have to ask. Why were they messing with you? In fact, what the hell were you doing in that dump? That saloon is for hooligans and brigands like them. You ought to be at the saloon or one of the taverns or the inns on the south side by the train.¡±

    He frowned and put his two index fingers together. ¡°W-well you see, I, uh, I do tend to have a gambling problem. It¡¯s the cards, you see.¡± He leaned in close as he rubbed his hands together conspiratorially. ¡°I have a [Rare] grade [Luck] card. It¡¯s on my hand, so it¡¯s particularly effective with card games or dice, but not so much on things outside of my immediate vicinity. It also has a habit of diminishing if it¡¯s discovered. And those ruffians might have found out. They felt I¡¯d cheated them and wanted me to pay with blood.¡±

    I crossed my arms. ¡°Well, you did cheat them.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°There¡¯s no rules against [Luck] cards!¡±

    ¡°Because they¡¯re exceedingly rare and valuable, Mr. Fellgroove, and because that lot wouldn¡¯t expect someone to be in their bar swindling them with a valuable card like that. But that doesn¡¯t give them the right to try and kill you. Please be careful going forward. There won¡¯t always be a kind neighbor like me to help you or even a deputy.¡±

    ¡°I shall keep that in mind, Mr. . . . what did you say your name was?¡± He extended his gloved hand to me as he asked that.

    ¡°Gunnar, Griffin Gunnar. A pleasure, Mr. Fellgroove.¡±

    We said our farewells, and then I watched him head back south to the train station where he should have stayed. I was sure he¡¯d be fine, and I had other things on my mind.

    Now that the excitement of the fight and the aftermath was over, I felt fatigue like a locomotive ran me over. One shoulder was bruised and battered, the other cut deep. My ribs were bruised or broken. My cheek was bruised and my jaw hurt, but not in the way of someone whose jaw is broken. I¡¯d seen that, done that, and I knew how much that hurt.

    I paid Granny Twellin a visit before doing anything else. First, she fussed over me and my injuries and cursed those drunks, but when she settled down, her demeanor was very cheerful. She was proud of me for finally getting a card, and she said she knew I¡¯d find my brother. I hoped she was right.

    Parroia had a proper doctor with his fancy eastern learning and medical degrees, but I found a nice healing potion really did the trick. Plus, his learning couldn¡¯t regrow a tooth or close your wounds all lickety-split. And he cost more. Granny Twellin charged fair prices. Heck, if you did her a favor or two, she might heal you and call it square. In this instance, she chalked it up as a going-away gift and didn¡¯t charge me anything. In fact, she gave me some potions for the road as well as some standard medical supplies. I already had some squirreled away at the house, but you could never have enough.

    After saying my goodbyes, I ran around doing errands, which was mostly me selling things I didn¡¯t need to get as much money as I could before leaving. I had a lot of canned goods and salted meat that I wouldn¡¯t need for a while. I did pack some in my satchel and backpack, but the rest, I sold. I also had a mess of spices that I wasn¡¯t going to take, so I sold those too. Some extra gauze and pens and pencils fetched me a few silvers.

    After selling my excess possessions, I remembered what the Card Master had told me and went to the Calbuck¡¯s printing press and got a fragment conversion chart. I folded it up, thanked them, and went on my way. It was a long day, running back and forth, and I was exhausted, but the adrenaline and excitement of my upcoming journey propelled me forward.

    When I was finished, I went to see Master Elijah. Thankfully, he wasn¡¯t busy. He was between forgings, so he was able to help me right away. He was a lot more put together and clean-cut than his brother, but he still had all the dirt and sweat of a smith. His face was caked in soot, and his hair greasy from smoke. He smiled when I came in.

    ¡°I heard you¡¯re leaving us,¡± he said.

    ¡°Yes. Just need a good weapon before I go.¡±

    He looked me over. No doubt his inner systems caught my tattoo. I wasn¡¯t hiding it at the moment, but I would once I hit the road.

    ¡°Polearm, eh? Good call. I¡¯ve fancied them myself, but my favorite is a good great sword or claymore. I just love making big swords.¡±

    I smiled brightly. ¡°I¡¯m sure most smiths feel the same way.¡±

    ¡°How much you got?¡±

    The exact amount eluded me, probably because I¡¯d been running around so much, my brain was in a tizzy. I produced my coin purse and counted out sixty silvers. It was less than I would have liked, but after paying for a card fragment, I was lucky to have this much.

    ¡°Hmm, well, we wouldn¡¯t want to leave you copperless as you go on the road, so I won¡¯t give you my best items¡ªnot that you can afford them. But my lower tier items will serve you quite well.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be happy with anything you can sell me, sir.¡± And that was the truth. It would be better than a metal rod meant for stabilizing walls.

    Master Elijah disappeared into one of his three armories. I waited patiently, though I was antsy. A minute later, he returned with a weapon that made my heart flutter. Because it was beautiful.

    It was a seven-foot staff of solid, dark wood, polished to a beautiful shine. On one end was a thick wrapping of black leather, bound tight. And on the other, a fat bulb of knotted wood like a small circular club that a troll might carry.

    He handed it to me, and I took it in my hands with reverence. ¡°What is it?"

    ¡°It¡¯s called a bludgel staff. Essentially, it¡¯s a quarterstaff with a small but dense cudgel on the end. You look like you¡¯ve got enough strength for it, but if you were to get a [Strength] card and maybe even a [Speed] card, you¡¯d be deadly. Just be careful if you¡¯re using it around friends or a crowd. It¡¯s great for crowd control, but you don¡¯t wanna hurt someone on accident that you aren¡¯t meanin¡¯ to.¡±

    It was heavy, which wasn¡¯t a surprise, but it felt good in my grip. It was heavier than the metal rod I¡¯d used against the goons, but that made sense. It was longer, the length of a proper combat staff, and it had the thick cudgel at the top.

    ¡°The wood is treated ironwood. It won¡¯t rot. It¡¯s water resistant and incredibly durable. Like the name would suggest, it¡¯s nearly as hard as iron, and treated as it is, it will not break under a [Strength] card enhanced blow up to [Rare], Tier 3. If you¡¯re facing someone with an [Epic] level [Strength] card, you¡¯ve got bigger problems than your weapon, but I don¡¯t suspect that will be a problem for a while.¡±

    ¡°I certainly hope not. I don¡¯t plan on going south.¡± The south was where the biggest Fissures opened, and it was where the stronger monsters and hunters congregated. I was worried that Gareth was down in the south somewhere, but I wasn¡¯t ready to go there. Not yet.

    I shook his hand. ¡°I love it. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I do it. I aim to please.¡±

    The bludgel staff cost me twenty silvers, which was not cheap, but compared to some of his other wares, it was a steal. And I hoped I wouldn¡¯t need to buy a new weapon for a while. On top of the weapon, I bought a harness for it, which was only two silvers, and a vial of treatment oil and rags to keep the staff in good shape.

    He nodded and grinned. ¡°Good luck, Griff! Make us proud out there.¡±

    My smile was bright, and my pride was even brighter. ¡°Oh, I aim to, Master Elijah. Don¡¯t you worry one bit.¡±

    Once I was done with the smithy, I finished packing extra clothes and supplies and was ready to hit the road. There was only one last stop I needed to make. I headed north to the lake to the small stretch of graves there. To say goodbye to Uncle Deebo.

    There was a larger graveyard on the east side of town near the mines, a necessity since a lot of men died from cave-ins, explosions, or noxious gasses when the canaries couldn¡¯t detect anything. But there were a few smaller lots scattered around the outskirts of the town and a few more outside the walls too.

    Uncle Deebo was buried by the lake. Same as my aunt and my grandma, whom I never got to meet. Grandpa died somewhere out in the Badlands, so no telling where his resting place might be. And as for my ma¡¯s side . . . hers was shrouded in mystery, according to Deebo.

    A few other headstones dotted the shore of the lake, some hidden in the shade of trees while others were out in the open where the sun could warm their eternal resting places. The lake was shallow, and the rain was sparse, so there wasn¡¯t really any danger of flooding that might disturb the graves.

    I put the flowers I¡¯d brought on his grave, then sat cross-legged before him.

    ¡°I did it, Deebo. I earned my first card, and I¡¯m headin¡¯ after Gareth.¡± I swallowed and pulled out a wrinkled and yellowed parchment paper. I unfolded it and looked at the scrawled handwriting of my brother¡¯s pen.

    ¡°West to Mushyon Ridge, where it all began.¡±

    I¡¯d read that a hundred times. A thousand times. I still didn¡¯t know what it meant. I knew the town and how to get to it but had no idea what had ¡°all begun¡± there. I had found the note amongst Deebo¡¯s personal effects after he died, so I never got a chance to ask him. I did ask a few people around town, but none of them knew either.

    I stood and pocketed it. ¡°West to Mushyon Ridge, Uncle. To where it all began. And then from there, I¡¯ll find my way. When I return, I¡¯ll have Gareth with me, and I¡¯ll force that bastard to pay his respects. Heaven knows he probably doesn¡¯t even realize you¡¯re dead.¡±

    It was a promise, and I kept my promises.

    Holding back tears and with a lump in my throat, I laid a hand on Deebo¡¯s grave one last time. Then I tipped my straw hat to him, turned, and walked away. I kept walking, my feet carrying me to the western gates, past the afternoon vendors and workers coming to and from the town.

    I passed through the gates, outside the walls that had offered me safety and protection all my life, left the only home I had ever known, and I was on my way.

    Heading west, following the sun, my boots kicking up dust as I put one foot in front of the other. West, to where it all began. Whatever the hell that meant.

 Chapter 10

    I¡¯ll admit, I may have been a bit too eager to be on my way. I probably should have waited another night, gotten a good night of sleep and a hearty breakfast, and then headed out. I would have been a heck of a lot better off.

    But what can I say? I was a really impatient young man. I had a whole world to see and people to meet, and my adventure had been on hold for years. It could not wait any longer.

    Well, it didn¡¯t go according to plan.

    First, I should have bought a horse. But they¡¯re expensive, and I didn¡¯t have any idea how to care for one. I could ride well enough as I¡¯d been on one of the beasts a few times, but ask me to actually get the saddle on and fastened, and I would have been lost. And again, horses are expensive. I could have taken a carriage or even the train, but what fun was that? Part of the adventure was actually going out and seeing the world. I wanted to experience it like my brother had experienced it, and I knew Gareth hadn¡¯t taken a train.

    So, I hoofed it. The first night was fine. I made a fire with some loose dry tinder I found under a small copse of trees near a bend in the road. There was a rocky clearing, and the remains of someone else¡¯s fire from nights long past. It wasn¡¯t hard to find wood and make a new one. I had some dried goods for dinner, and a small skein of wine, a vintage that belonged to Uncle Deebo. I¡¯d promised myself I¡¯d never drink it until I was out on the road. Uncle would have said I was too young, but I¡¯d say I was past sixteen, and by the law of the Badlands, I was a man. And what man can¡¯t have a drink every once in a while? Not too much, of course, lest I become a drunkard like Elryck and Thoman. I wasn¡¯t about to do that.

    So, I had a good meal, a nice drink, and then I smothered my fire and hunkered down for the night.

    When I woke in the morning, my mind was still in a daze, groggy and drained, and I figured maybe the wine wasn¡¯t as good as I¡¯d been hoping. It took me far too long to realize what the real problem was. I bolted awake, my body groaning, probably because somehow my pack had been taken out from under me without my waking. That was what I was using as a pillow, and now I was all stiff, and my neck hurt something fierce.

    I looked around to realize that all of my things were gone. Yep, all of them. My pack, my boots, my brand new bludgel, and even my hat. And that was a grievous offense, because it was the only thing I had in all the world that my father had given me. It was my only connection to him, and I¡¯d be damned if I let someone steal it from me.

    At least they left me with my duster, belt, and jeans, which was a shock since jeans were still relatively new and not as easy to come by in these parts. The denim material was revolutionary, and already, factories were popping up all over to make the material. I¡¯d heard it was invented by a man whose dog kept destroying his uniform pants, and he invented a material they couldn¡¯t rip easily. And the dog¡¯s name was Jean. Or maybe that was the man¡¯s name. I couldn¡¯t recall, but whichever it was, they made a mean pant.

    I screamed into the morning sun and cursed for good measure. I let my hands fall down my cheeks, nails dragging at my skin, though not enough to break the surface. My cheeks and jaw were already prickly with stubble, a fresh little fuzz. I swatted away some of my red-brown hair from my face. Every little annoyance threatened to prickle me more, and I responded in kind, cursing up more of a storm. I was sure I¡¯d be heard for miles around, but I didn¡¯t give a damn.

    Of course! Of course this would happen to me. Son of a . . .

    But no, calm down, Griff. You¡¯re no fool. You might still be able to get your stuff back.

    The thought was delusional, and I knew it. Whoever had my stuff was likely long gone and way better equipped than I was, but I couldn¡¯t turn around and head home. Not with nothing but the shirt on my back, and I reckon I was lucky to have that much. Perhaps they figured that I would have woken from that particular violation, and they didn¡¯t want to have to kill me. For that, I was thankful. Being robbed, I could endure, but being skewered in my sleep? Now, that would have been a right fine rudeness.

    I took a deep breath, calmed my mind and my heart and my rage, and began to investigate.

    Whoever it was that nicked my stuff from under my nose, they weren¡¯t exactly subtle. A mess of footprints scattered about the dust and dirt of my little camp. They were all stamped about, so it was hard to get a true estimate of how many people I was dealing with until they began to trail away from the campsite and back to the road. I scrambled after them and counted five distinct sets of boots. All boots and all large, so all men if I had to wager a guess. And a single set of hooves, too, so they had a horse. No . . . a pack bison. The prints were very deep and wider than a horse¡¯s, and the strides weren¡¯t as long.

    Okay, I had a trail. The boots might disappear, but a pack bison would be easy to track. They probably figured a young man like me with no weapons or resources would run back to Parroia with my tail between my legs or die out here before doing so. Well, nope. Not Griff Gunnar. They wouldn¡¯t get rid of me so easily.

    I didn¡¯t waste any time. Even though my stomach rumbled, demanding food. I didn¡¯t have any, and I had no means to hunt for some. My lips were dry, my throat parched, and having water out in the roughs was a lot more important than food. I was lucky I was still near a town; else I would have been in danger of dying from dehydration. Awful kind of them.

    I stoked my rage, let it simmer beneath the surface, sustaining me in lieu of food. I was thankful that it was only morning, and the sun wasn¡¯t at its peak yet. Though, it wasn¡¯t the sun I was worried about. It was the critters that lived in the roughs. The areas around towns, even smaller ones, usually had a good bit of safety, because hunters and deputies patrolled and made sure monsters didn¡¯t come close. And even the roads themselves had some degree of safety because people traveled them. But if you went off the beaten path, you¡¯d soon find yourself in danger.

    I wasn¡¯t quite there yet. My campsite wasn¡¯t far from the road, which would have been unwise, but clearly, it had also not been far enough.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The bison tracks took me back to the road. Already, my feet were pained as rocks and sticks and every little thing jabbed through my socks. It was frustrating, to say the least.

    Once on the road, the trail wasn¡¯t so easy to find. The bandits¡¯ footsteps were lost amid a sea of other footsteps stamped by dozens or hundreds of other travelers. Carriage wheels made heavy grooves in the hard packed dirt road, but thankfully, the bison didn¡¯t step in these. I was able to follow it for a while, though sometimes I had to pause and double back when I realized I was following a horse or camel track.

    I passed a few travelers on the road, mostly traveling salesmen and a few bounty hunter-looking types, plus one wagon with a family. I asked each of them if they¡¯d seen a bunch of no-good scoundrels with a pack bison, but no such luck. So, I continued following the meager trail and ignoring the stares of confusion at my bootless socks and haggard appearance.

    To be honest, I was a good kid. I tried my best to do what was right, to help people where I could, but I wouldn¡¯t lie and say I didn¡¯t have a rage in me. An anger at my brother for leaving without a word, an anger at the town for not being better to me sometimes, an anger at this world for how it treated certain people. And an anger at the selfish people who took advantage of others.

    I was a good kid, but when I found these bandits, I was gonna show them I was done being taken advantage of.

    Did I actually stand a chance against them? I didn¡¯t know how many there were, and I had no weapon, so probably not. I also knew I couldn¡¯t just turn around and go back to town in defeat. Hell, no. I had to do something. If I was outnumbered and outclassed, I¡¯d think of something. Maybe it was na?ve bravado, but I didn¡¯t care. My anger was raging too great to think rationally.

    Eventually, the tracks went off the main road, following a worn path south. I could hardly see the path, but the hoof prints were clear, and within them, the men¡¯s boot prints too. Sometimes they disappeared amongst the shrubbery and short dry grasses, but my eyes were on the hunt, and I found them soon enough.

    The path led me from the wide-open roughs to a small forest that sloped up a hill. To the south, I saw a small river cutting through the landscape and in and around the forest. I guessed it was the Hather¡¯s River or one of her tributaries, which went through Mushyon Ridge but wound away from Parroia.

    I figured the bandits had a camp along the river. Or they took a boat down the river, in which case I was screwed.

    That thought got my feet moving faster.

    I didn¡¯t want to run up on them because I was one man against five or more, and I didn¡¯t have any weapons on me. I had no idea what exactly I was going to do when I found the bandits, but I wasn¡¯t going to give up.

    Unfortunately, stealth had to take a back seat to haste. I was very sneaky, but I also was running out of time. Who knew if they were gone or about to leave?

    The forest wasn¡¯t dense, so I could see pretty far through the trees. The leaves were pale gray, brown, and some reds, and the bark yellow and papery. I didn¡¯t know the name of the trees, but I knew the bark was used for some potions. I stayed low, moving quickly along the path, which was barely visible, but I tracked the crushed grass and the shrubs and leaves that had crumbled under the feet of the men and the bison.

    Before long, I saw someone moving ahead of me, and it was definitely a person. If it had been a monster, even one of the humanoid ones, I¡¯d have been given a handy little description of the beasty. Another nice feature of the card system.

    But no, this person was moving fast, but not the same fast as a quick walk or a run. No, they were sneaking around. I wanted to put on some stealthy speed of my own, but I paused as a new sound pierced the quiet morning air.

    Laughter. A whole raucous round of it.

    It rang out from ahead. The trees were still sparse enough that I could see fairly far ahead, and the forest was sloping down, no doubt heading for a river at the bottom of the slope. The laughter came from below. My skin prickled. It sounded like a lot of men, though it was hard to tell if it was more than the five I suspected to have robbed me.

    I tried to focus on the other sneaking person who I assumed probably wasn¡¯t with the bandits. Why else would they be sneaking? But when I looked back to where they¡¯d been, they were gone.

    My brows pinched tight. ¡°Where the heck¡ª¡±

    And the where was answered immediately as a figure launched themselves on me and took me to the ground without much effort. Granted, I was not expecting it. I was usually very hard to get a jump on, so whoever this was had some skill for sure. A card or natural instincts? Hard to tell.

    They pressed their knee to the small of my back and put their full weight into me as they wrenched my right arm painfully behind me.

    I howled with pain, the howl in question not particularly loud because my mind was still cognizant of the danger lurking ahead. If the bandits heard us, then the element of surprise was lost, and that was my only advantage. Still, the pain was bad as they pressed their hand against my elbow, a clear threat not to do anything funny.

    ¡°Knock it off, will ya?¡± I hissed. ¡°Unless you¡¯re with the bandits, I don¡¯t have a beef with you.¡±

    ¡°You were following me, and I don¡¯t take kindly to that.¡±

    I continued to struggle, but there was something familiar about the voice. It was lighter than I was expecting, and I realized it was feminine. This was a woman pinning me down. Now, some might think I¡¯d be embarrassed to get my ass handed to me by a woman, but on the contrary, I knew several women that were more than my match. Out in the Badlands, you had to be tough, and that transcended gender. So did card powers.

    No doubt I was probably physically stronger if you were measuring raw strength, but this woman knew how to position herself just right. All of her weight was forced into my spine, making it hard to move or even breathe without causing myself more discomfort, and she had my arm at her mercy. I could tell that she could snap it with ease if she was so inclined.

    ¡°Okay, okay, I apologize, miss. Would you be so kind as to get off me? I think we¡¯re on the same side here.¡±

    She didn¡¯t respond for a good long moment, nor did she refute my use of ¡°miss,¡± so I assumed I was right on the money. When I finally felt the pressure on my arm release, I sucked in a sigh of relief. But that was short-lived. The statement of gratitude died in my throat as she flipped me onto my back and pinned me with her knees and full body weight. A woman she might have been, but I could feel her strength.

    And I could feel the blade at my neck, a long shaft of steel that curved and lightly reflected the meager rays of sun peeking through the trees. A scythe, a combat model designed for fighting the monsters of the Fissures. Though they were perfectly adapted to taking human life as well.

    I froze, though with her pinning me, it wasn¡¯t like I could move much anyway. Still, as I swallowed, I felt the cold blade dig into the supple flesh of my throat.

    ¡°Easy there, friend,¡± I told her, each syllable making her weapon cut deeper. ¡°I ain¡¯t a bandit.¡±

    She studied me. ¡°Well, I suppose that¡¯s true. You look like crap, partner. What the hell happened to you?¡±

    I explained myself, how it was my first day on the road, and after my first night, I was robbed blind. She blinked at me, though I couldn¡¯t see her too well. Then, she threw her head back and laughed. A beautiful sound, and somehow, she timed it with that of the men ahead so they wouldn¡¯t hear her.

    But I did, and two things became apparent. One, I knew that laugh. It was deeper than I last remembered, but I would remember its sound anywhere. And that face. That smile, those eyes. As her hat pitched up and I got a proper look at my attacker¡¯s face, the full wave of familiarity smacked me hard across the face.

    This was no stranger. I recognized her immediately even if I hadn¡¯t seen her for several years. Not since she left Parroia.

    Hers was the face of one of my childhood best friends. Nell Newton. Just then, I knew I¡¯d be okay.

 Chapter 11

    She apparently couldn¡¯t tell it was me. I knew that because when she saw the look of pure relief and familiarity wash over my face, she gave me a look of contempt. It was the same look she used to give any man or boy who rubbed her the wrong way. Or really, anyone of the male sex that she didn¡¯t know. They pissed her off, and I never blamed her for that.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what thoughts are going through your head right about now, but don¡¯t think I won¡¯t slit your throat,¡± she warned.

    I smiled. My hat was gone, and my face was unguarded from her view. Nell could see me plainly, but I didn¡¯t hold it against her that she didn¡¯t recognize me. Last she saw me, my voice wasn¡¯t so deep, and my chin not so pronounced, my jaw not so wide. I didn¡¯t have any stubble yet, and my hair had been a darker shade. The lighter red coloring came later.

    That being said, I looked tremendously like my brother, if not quite as refined. She at least should have seen her childhood crush in my face, but that was fine.

    ¡°What¡¯s a little magnolia sunrise like you doin¡¯ in a dark and dangerous wood like this?¡± I asked her, and the reaction was exactly as I would have expected. She recoiled like I had slapped her. Her eyes widened, revealing their swirling, stormy, thundercloud gray. They looked inky and dark in this dim forest light.

    Of course, these woods weren¡¯t too dangerous, save the men ahead. It was too sparse to have any truly big monsters, though anyone caught unawares could still be taken down by something lesser. A single Bodokin could kill just as easily as a Frostmount Berserker or a Root Surfer or even a High Dragon.

    ¡°Magnolia sunrise . . .¡± she whispered, testing the words that I knew would bring her back home. One time, her father, who was a nasty piece of work, but he had his moments between his long bouts of alcoholism, recited her a poem, and in it called her a magnolia sunrise. He didn¡¯t come up with it, of course. Some city artsy type back East wrote it, but he thought it was beautiful and referred to Nell as such, and so too did Gareth and me, first in a teasing manner and then genuinely.

    No one else on this earth would know that besides us. And Deebo, but I clearly wasn¡¯t my uncle.

    Then her eyes finally took me in, really took me in, and they misted. ¡°Griff?¡± she wheezed, nearly breathless.

    My smile was brighter than said magnolia sunrise. ¡°Hi there, Nell. Long time no see.¡±

    Without warning, she tossed aside her scythe and threw her arms around my neck, which was hard to do since she still had me pinned to the ground, but I didn¡¯t care. I held her back, and we tumbled through the leaves and grass and dirt.

    When she pulled back, she held my cheeks in her hands. They were rough, callused, and scarred, her fingers longer and tougher than I remembered. Not that they were ever soft, mind you.

    Her eyes flew across my face. ¡°Look at you,¡± she said. ¡°You look like your brother. No . . . you look more like Deebo.¡±

    It felt like a compliment, so I would take it as such. And she wasn¡¯t wrong. My brother was taller and longer than I was, or at least, he was before he left. Maybe we looked exactly the same now, but his face had been narrower, sharper. Mine was a bit boxier, with a hint of baby still in the cheeks. Though the stubble really shattered any illusion of innocence.

    Nell quickly rose and helped me to my feet. It was a wonder to behold her. Here she was, my long-lost best friend. The only one, really, besides my brother, and he didn¡¯t count. She took off her hat and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. She used to have dark hair that she always kept cut short. The boys liked it long, and she did everything to spite the boys. It was cut even shorter now. Not quite shaved, but a few months into a grow out, and it was dyed a messy pink, bright strands clashing with her dark curls. The sight took me by surprise, but it was a new fad amongst hunters and Badlands types alike. There was a cactus discovered down south that had perfect properties for quick, easy, and effective dying, and Badlanders took to it quick. The Easties didn¡¯t like it, which made more of us cling to it. And most hunters I saw now had some sort of colored hair. If not hair, then a bright article of clothing on them somewhere.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    I looked her over, my hands at my hips. What was she doing there? I vividly remembered the day she left. It was a year before Deebo passed, and a year after my brother left. All three of those were sandwiched together, and I never appreciated how the universe bundled all of those different tragedies neatly by year. I barely had time to grieve and move on before someone else left me. Deebo was never coming back, but I would find my brother, and now, here was Nell.

    I was probably staring like an idiot. but how could I not? She looked amazing. When I last saw her, she was a knobby kneed, lanky little sprig of a Badlands kid, all wiry arms and legs. She couldn¡¯t hit very hard, but that hadn¡¯t stopped her from fighting every damn boy in town that dared say a mean word against her¡ªor me.

    Now, she was a grown woman. I mean, she was my age, and some would consider me a kid, but I sure didn¡¯t. She wore a dark leather duster that went to her knees, sinched tight at her waist. Her jeans were dyed a crimson red, and her boots were black leather and studded with silver. Her hat was the same dark leather as her duster. She¡¯d been lanky before, but now there were more curves to her, though the duster tried to hide them. Her shoulders were broader than before, and I could tell they had a lot more muscle than I remembered. I had half a head on her, but that meant little.

    ¡°Well, you are in quite the pickle,¡± she said. ¡°What made you finally leave?¡±

    I decided it wasn¡¯t time to tell her about Deebo¡¯s death. She¡¯d liked him a lot. Also, I noticed she had a new accent, somewhat refined. Not quite an Eastie city accent, but she sounded not quite so rough as she used to. That was also something for another time.

    ¡°I finally got my first card. I wanted to earn it, ya know? I got [Polearm and Staff Proficiency].¡± I shouldered off half of my duster and rolled up my sleeve to show her the tattoo.

    ¡°That¡¯s a nice card. Not boring like [Pugilism].¡±

    ¡°Hey, [Pugilism] is great! And both you and Gareth, and frankly I, we like fighting.¡±

    ¡°Well, fighting townies and drunks is one thing, Griff, but you better have magic gauntlets or knuckle spikes if you are going rounds with monsters. I prefer a longer reach.¡±

    That was definitely fair. I hadn¡¯t considered that or planned on becoming a monster hunter, but it was one of the best ways to make a living and reliably get cards out in the Badlands. If I wanted to find my brother, who was a hunter, I would probably wind up taking on monster bounties too. And I supposed my bludgel would be a good weapon for that. First, though, I had to get it back.

    ¡°Okay, enough about me. What are you doing here?¡±

    She looked south towards the river and where the men were. They were no longer laughing, but I could still make out some distant conversation. They hadn¡¯t left yet.

    ¡°I was passing through, got a bounty for a group of highwaymen that stole from people in their sleep. Was tracking them. Guess I just missed you.¡±

    ¡°Well, fantastic.¡±

    She shouldered her scythe and cocked a grin my way. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll get your stuff back.¡±

    ¡°If you think I¡¯m gonna let you fight them alone, you¡¯re crazy, Nell.¡±

    ¡°Let me lead, Griff. You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing.¡±

    I was offended. ¡°I beg your finest pardon, madam.¡±

    ¡°You literally just got your first card. Which is perfectly fine, but you don¡¯t have the experience that I have. Plus, how the hell you gonna¡¯ lead when you ain¡¯t got a weapon? I know you didn¡¯t used to like to think, but I need you to think now.¡±

    I knew she was right, of course, but it was just fun razzing her enough to make her break her new-fangled accent and sound like she¡¯s from the Badlands again. I nodded in satisfaction at a job well done.

    ¡°Okay, you can lead, but I¡¯m not gonna sit back. Even without a weapon, the card gives me better reflexes, and I¡¯ve got my two fists right here.¡±

    ¡°Griff . . .¡±

    I scanned the ground and quickly found a long stick, not quite as long as my bludgel, but easily long enough to be a walking stick. It wasn¡¯t sturdy by any means, but it would keep me alive long enough to figure something else out.

    ¡°Here, now I¡¯ve got a weapon,¡± I said.

    Nell shook her head and rolled her eyes, but it made her look so much like the girl I used to know that no amount of disappointment or annoyance in that look could make me feel any of it.

    ¡°Okay, fine. Get behind me. We need to take them by surprise. We¡¯ll figure out a way to use you.¡±

    I tipped an imaginary hat to her. ¡°Thank ye kindly, miss.¡± Of course, that made me even more eager to get my own hat back. Those bastards better not have damaged it or lost it, or I would rain hell upon them.

 Chapter 12

    Nell snorted and shook her head, then started forward, crouching low again and moving fast but silently. It was no wonder she¡¯d gotten the drop on me. We had both been sneaky back in town when we were kids, and my skills had only gotten better. It seemed that hers had as well, plus now, she had some real-world experience.

    It wasn¡¯t hard to keep up with her, but I was very cognizant of where I stepped. I was bigger and heavier, and that counted for a lot when sneaking, though if you knew how to control your body, it wasn¡¯t as big a hindrance as some might expect. The bigger issue for myself and Nell as well was our weapons. Her scythe was large, but she moved with a grace that could have only come from a card. Every inch of her aside from her face was covered, so I couldn¡¯t see if she had any cards, but she obviously did. If she was a hunter, then there was no way she wasn¡¯t inked.

    All I had was my long stick, but my fresh card skills already compensated. I held it tight against me, but I moved amongst the trees and underbrush without it hitting against anything. Pre-card me might have knocked it against any number of branches, but not anymore. Gods, the number of times these new reflexes and skills would have come in handy . . .

    A new round of raucous laughter erupted just ahead. So close. Too close. I could make out the different voices and pitches within that cacophony of hyenic mirth.

    Nell stopped in front of me, though not abruptly enough to cause me to trip over her. Good thing too, because as I came to her side and peered over her shoulder, I saw what awaited us.

    The forest sloped to the banks of the river where it wasn¡¯t too wide, but it was deep enough and fast enough for a boat or raft to comfortably sail along with the current. And there was a raft there. More of a merchant¡¯s barge, really. Flat and wide, and only slightly inset into the hull to secure the goods while the oarsman stood at the back to guide the raft down river. It was a bit primitive, but also simple and easy to acquire or make, perfect for a bandit or smuggling operation.

    Which was what this clearly was. The pack bison was near the center of the encampment, its saddle and pack loaded down with boxes and gear. A small fire blazed nearby, and a few men sat around laughing and drinking.

    There were seven men. All word filthy leathers and dusters and chaps. They had messy hair and torn wide-brimmed hats and dark bandanas around their necks. All of them were armed. I could see a revolver, a rifle, a sword, two clubs, and . . . my bludgel!

    The man with my bludgel sat on a wooden box next to a pile of clothes. So many clothes, dozens and dozens of pants, jackets, dusters, vests, shirts, trousers, skirts, and more. And dozens of boots and shoes. He sat next to the pile of obviously stolen clothes, and he stroked my weapon tenderly. Atop his head was my straw hat, and it obscured his face aside from his thick gray beard and the fat black cigar sticking out of his lips.

    My hands clenched so tightly on my stick, I thought it might break. The wood groaned, and Nell had to put a hand on my shoulder to reassure me. I calmed. She was right. I couldn¡¯t lose my head.

    My vision flashed with info about the card tattoos I could see. Since these men were amongst friends, they were less shy about hiding their advantages.

    <blockquote>

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Card Detected: Blunted Proficiency, Uncommon, Tier 1

    Card Detected: Swordsmanship Proficiency, Common, Tier 1

    Card Detected: Dead Eye Accuracy, Rare, Tier 1

    Card Detected: Quick Fingers, Common, Tier 2

    Card Detected: Blunted Proficiency, Common, Tier 2

    Card Detected: Axe Proficiency, Common, Tier 1

    Card Detected: Monster Taming Proficiency, Uncommon, Tier 1

    </blockquote>

    There were also more domestic cards visible, like [Cooking] and [Sewing], plus some [Strength] cards. The weapon proficiencies were what we needed to worry about. The man with my bludgel had the [Monster Taming] card, which swam across his thick forearm, an inky pattern of chains and whips encircling and entwining around a stylized monster, though I couldn¡¯t see the finer details. I hadn¡¯t even known monster taming was a skill that cards could provide. It must have been rare, even if the card level was [Uncommon]. The ratings denoted the general power of the card more than the abundance. A [Rare] card would obviously be hard to get, but it was also much more powerful than similar cards at the [Common] or [Uncommon] level. On top of that, not all cards of the same level were the same power. The only thing that was set in stone was that higher levels of the same or similar cards were both more powerful and more rare.

    [Legendary] cards, on the other hand, were so rare that they had their own individual names and were often unique.

    As my eyes scanned the weapons, cards, and their owners, I stiffened. My gaze landed on a large cage to the left of the bandit camp. Inside was a green-furred ape, fat and round, its huge forearms covered in needle-like spines. Those same spines ran down its back, and its wide mouth oozed a sickly pale slime between large, yellowed fangs.

    <blockquote>

    Monster Detected: Green Needleback

    Needlebacks are solitary creatures, the bane of the forests they inhabit. You¡¯re lucky if you only find one, as they can multiply quickly. The deadly spines on their arms and backs also allow them to stick to trees. Green Needlebacks in particular produce a pain-inducing toxin that can last for several minutes, during which the Needleback will relish tearing you apart with its immense strength.

    </blockquote>

    ¡°Okay, this isn¡¯t good,¡± Nell said. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that they had a tamer.¡±

    ¡°What should we do?¡±

    If it was just the seven men, I would have said we ought to take our chances. I had a feeling Nell would be more than a match for these men, and I was sure I could hold my own before getting a proper weapon. But with the Needleback in play and someone to tame it, I didn¡¯t like the odds quite as much. At the very least, the cage had a large lock, so if we kept anyone from opening it, we¡¯d be fine.

    ¡°First, I¡¯m going to take out the marksmen,¡± said Nell. ¡°I don¡¯t like dealing with guns to begin with, but you pair that with a [Rare] level [Dead Eye Accuracy] card? If we don¡¯t get him, we¡¯ll both be dead before this ever starts.¡±

    Her plan sounded good. The sharpshooter was one of the men at the fire. A large skull was tattooed over his right eye and brow, with a bullseye and an X overlaid with the skull. I¡¯d never seen a [Rare] card before, and I didn¡¯t want to be on the receiving end.

    ¡°Okay, yeah, him first,¡± I agreed. ¡°And me?¡±

    Her brow furrowed. A small lock of pink hair fell over her forehead and stuck there with her sweat. ¡°Once the marksman is down, I will draw their attention. The tamer will likely make a run for the cage. I need you to stay low and hidden while I keep them busy, and then make sure he doesn¡¯t open that cage. He also has your weapon, but I don¡¯t think he has a relevant proficiency card, so you should be able to match him.¡±

    I nodded. My heart was hammering in my chest, and my nerves were frayed. We were really doing this. This wasn¡¯t going to be a good ole Badlands bar brawl or street scrap. This was a good ole shootout, and with a monster to boot. I could die here.

    But we had to do this. Not just for me, but to keep them from attacking and stealing from other people.

    ¡°Understood,¡± I said. ¡°You can count on me.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°Alright then. Watch and learn.¡±

    And Nell pounced into action.

 Chapter 13

    I had to admit, a bit of me was annoyed at how powerless and helpless I felt in this situation. Sure, I knew how to fight, but that was against drunks and people in town, usually with fists. Now, it was against a bunch of dangerous grown men who had weapons. And I felt like I couldn¡¯t do a damn thing. But I could admit that watching Nell get to work was a true pleasure.

    She vaulted out of cover with the grace of a dancer. Was that self-taught or the gifts of a card? I couldn¡¯t know, and now wasn¡¯t the time to ask. But she leaped clear over the closest man, the marksman, and her scythe whipped out with a fluid grace that made me envious. The tip of the blade sliced across his chest, cutting free his bandolier, and leaving a bright red line from collar to naval. The man gasped and fell back.

    I gulped as I moved low and quiet around the edge of the clearing, wondering if she had just killed that man or not. I mean, I wouldn¡¯t blame her if she did. After all, she was a bounty hunter, and not every bounty was going to come quietly. Sometimes, you had to kill, especially if your life or the life of someone you cared about was in danger. Still, I had never seen someone be killed, and I didn¡¯t know how I felt.

    So much for being a Badlands badass. For all of my bravado, I¡¯d lived a somewhat sheltered life in Parroia. Plenty of scuffles, sure, but nothing deadly.

    You can¡¯t worry about that now, I chided myself. I had one job, and that was to keep that cage closed. If the Needleback got free, we¡¯d be in for some trouble.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of pink as Nell danced through the men. Their yells quickly rose, changing from merriment to shock and anger. Her scythe flew out in a deadly arc, and before they could respond, the blade imbedded itself into the man with the axe. He roared with pain and even more so when she yanked it free, his blood spraying the air. I didn¡¯t think it would be a fatal wound from its positioning, but he wouldn¡¯t be able to wield the axe properly any time soon.

    Not that he would be doing much of anything, because as she yanked the tip of her scythe out of him, she did a whirling twist and brought the blunt end of her scythe up and knocked him in the chin, throwing him back. He landed with a heavy thump and didn¡¯t move again.

    I kept moving, but I could hear the smile in Nell¡¯s voice as she addressed the bandits. ¡°Come on, boys, I¡¯m a lady who loves to dance. Can¡¯t any of you show me a good time?¡±

    The bandits, of course, obliged her. Dumb and angry men were never very good at standing down from a taunt.

    They converged on her, and I heard their weapons clang together, their grunts and curses mixed with her own noises of exertion and glee. She was having a good time, and I hoped that meant she had everything under control. Meanwhile, I had my own mission.

    I emerged out of the underbrush right next to the cage. Just as I did so, the Needleback whirled and slammed against the bars right near me. I flinched, letting out a yelp, though I wasn¡¯t sure if anyone heard that over the carnage of the fighting. They might have heard the cage rattle. Or they might just assume that the monster was agitated by the shouting and the blood and not be any the wiser.

    I quickly picked myself up and crossed to the padlocked door at the front of the cage, ignoring the venemous glare of the monster, those glowing eyes burning into me. I wondered if it would try to stick me with its poisonous barbs, but the creature didn¡¯t move again to lunge at me, which, for now, I counted as a blessing.

    No sooner did I come to the front of the cage than I spotted the Monster Tamer with my bludgel. He was running toward me, but his eyes were fixed squarely on the fight between his men and Nell. I wanted to look, too, wanted to make sure she was okay, but I knew if I took my eyes off this man, I might leave myself wide open. Besides, I saw her blurry movement in my peripherals. She was doing fine. She was much too fast and nimble for them, and she had a longer reach.

    The Tamer¡¯s eyes locked on me at last, and he froze. The man gripped my weapon tightly in his dirty hands. His fingernails were long, cracked, and yellow, the tips blackened by dirt. I wanted to scowl and curse at him. I¡¯d have to give my bludgel a nice oil bath.

    He recognized me. ¡°You!¡± he said, surprise winning out in his words more than anger.

    I hefted my stick, ready to defend myself and my position. My lips quirked into a toothy grin. ¡°Me. Probably shoulda killed me, friend.¡± Then I got into a ready stance and thrust my makeshift staff in front of me. ¡°Now, give me back my stuff.¡±

    His glare loomed from beneath the brim of my father¡¯s hat. His eyes were dark and murderous, and the beard around his mouth was stained a darker shade than the graying brown of the rest, probably from accumulated tobacco spit.

    ¡°Piss off, lad.¡± And then he came at me, brandishing my own weapon against me.

    The Tamer was a man of middle age or older, but he closed the distance between us with startling speed. Too fast to be just an athletic man of his age. No, it had to be a [Speed] card. A [Common] one, likely, so not overpowered like higher cards, but it was still a problem. My heightened reflexes had their work cut out for them.

    He wielded the bludgel with surprising skill, and perhaps he did have a [Polearm] skill card under his sleeves. It was all I could do to parry each blow with my own, matching strike for strike, staff for staff. Of course, his staff was an actual smith-made combat staff. Mine was a large stick, and with each whack, I felt the wood in my hands groan and buckle. It wouldn¡¯t hold out for long, and then I¡¯d be in big trouble.

    The bandit seemed to know that as well, though it wasn¡¯t like it was a secret. I¡¯d be in trouble even if he didn¡¯t have any sort of skill with the bludgel. I had only survived thus far because I was able to deflect the heavy club blows he¡¯d swung at me using the end of my makeshift staff. This pissed him off something fierce, which also made me think maybe he didn¡¯t have a skill card but just some natural experience with staves.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t in this fight alone. To my right, Nell cried out, a sharp sound of pain, and I couldn¡¯t help but take my eyes off my opponent for a split second. Long enough to see Nell somersault away from two of her opponents, a fresh slash on her sleeve, bright blood welling from the wound beneath. Nothing serious that I could determine in that instant.

    But my mistake was serious, and even though it was only a mere second of distraction, it was enough. The Tamer spun and swung with the club end of my bludgel. It sped toward me with the force of a train and the speed of an arrow. It was all I could do to bring my staff up as I moved backward out of the way. That second jump back meant my hip wasn¡¯t blown into smithereens, but the bludgel caught my staff in the middle and snapped it right in half.

    The shock of it brought me to the ground, my tailbone smacking against a rock and sending a jolt up my spine.

    A more bloodthirsty bandit might have finished me off right then and there, but they had only stolen from me and left me alive, so I got the sense that they weren¡¯t wanton murderers. Instead, the Tamer sneered at me as he approached, savoring his victory.

    Maybe they were less bloodthirsty . . . or just arrogant and foolish.

    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right, kid. We shoulda stuck you like a pig and sold your skin to a flesh changer. Maybe that will be the procedure goin¡¯ forward, after we¡¯re done with your pretty friend over there.¡±

    ¡°You could still do that,¡± I told him. I¡¯d keep him talking. The longer I did, the longer I lived. ¡°I¡¯m young and healthy, and my skin would be quite valuable.¡±

    He stroked his beard, considering that as he took a few steps closer. ¡°Aye. You¡¯re quite the helpful victim. A shame. Maybe we could have used a new set of hands. And you seem brighter than this lot. But unfortunately, a reckonin¡¯ is called for. I can¡¯t letcha live, not after you brought a hunter to kill my men. On top of that, I . . .¡±

    I had heard enough, and the Tamer was close enough. I brought my leg up, knee to my chest, and then kicked out. My aim was true. My heel connected with his crotch, and I felt the impact of foot to jewels.

    The bandit cried out, dropped like a stone, and pitched forward. I erupted from the ground and grabbed at my bludgel. He had loosened his grip on it from his sudden, blinding pain. He was too stunned to resist, and I managed to wrench half of it free. I whipped the bottom half of the shaft up and smashed the rubber-tipped end into his bearded chin. That probably cushioned the blow, but it was enough, snapping his head back, and his body followed.

    My bludgel came fully free. It felt heavy in my hands, but still right . . . perfect.

    I¡¯d only had it for a day, but it felt like a part of me already. I strode forward and stood over the Tamer. He was almost knocked out, but not quite, so I thumped him in the forehead with a quick flick of my wrist, the rubber bottom of the bludgel striking him solidly. It would have been damn near murder to hit him in the head with the other end. I only needed him knocked out, not dead.

    With the Tamer unconscious, I leaned forward, plucked the straw hat from his dirty, greasy hair, and plopped it back on my head where it belonged.

    When I turned back to Nell and her fight, she was still defending against two bandits. Still holding her own, but her movements had slowed, and she had taken several wounds. Blood dripped from a wound on her arm, and a cut on her forehead caused blood to flow down her face and obscure her left eye. It was only a matter of time until she took a more deadly wound.

    Bludgel in hand, I ran for her. I was lucky because the bandits were too engrossed in their fight with Nell to notice me. The first one didn¡¯t react as I ran up behind him until the very last moment. Whether he heard me or one of his senses picked up on the danger, I don¡¯t know, but he looked around a second too late. I swept my bludgel low and took his legs out from under him. His club flew from his grasp as his legs were swept out from under him, and he landed with a breath-stealing oomph.

    As my momentum carried me back around, I brought the other end of the bludgel forward and caught the other bandit in the back. Not enough to seriously injure him, but it caused him to stumble, and that was all the help Nell needed.

    She tripped him as he stumbled off balance toward her, and as he fell, she kicked out with her scythe and swiped the tip across his neck. I gasped at the sudden violence of it. He was down. We could have knocked him out, not killed him. I started for the bandit I¡¯d knocked down to clock his lights out, but Nell was faster than I was, and her blade swiped across his neck too.

    My stomach twisted. The Badlands were aptly named, and I knew I would experience more death as I made my way, but I hadn¡¯t expected it would be so soon, and I didn¡¯t think it would be so needless.

    I swallowed, letting the end of my bludgel dip and rest against the grass and dirt. My eyes found Nell, and they were heavy. The danger was over, but that hardly made me feel much better.

    ¡°Are they all dead?" I asked. ¡°Did you have to kill them?¡±

    She flicked her scythe, letting the blood spray the grass. Then her eyes found mine. She stared at me with an arched brow, wondering what the hell I was talking about.

    ¡°They¡¯re not dead, Griff.¡±

    It was my turn to be confused. ¡°But you just slit their throats.¡±

    ¡°Look closer.¡±

    I didn¡¯t want to. I didn¡¯t want to see the bloody wreckage of their throats, but I forced myself to comply and look. And I found she was right. The cuts were not deep. In fact, they were only shallow red lines, hardly any blood flowing from the wounds. Certainly not deep enough to kill.

    How did that incapacitate them?

    I looked to her for an answer, and the question must have been plain as day on my face. Nell shrugged.

    ¡°I try not to kill when at all possible. A bounty is usually worth more alive than dead, so it¡¯s bad business to kill wantonly. I make it a habit to incapacitate. I coat my blade with kover toxin, which knocks you out if it gets in your system within seconds. But it has to be through the blood, so it¡¯s no good if you put it in food or a drink. On weapons is the best way.¡±

    Oh, so that was why they didn¡¯t get up and fight after such seemingly shallow and nonlife-threatening cuts. I mean, some of them had looked deadly from my vantage point. But now, none of the men had any serious injuries that I could see.

    I had done my best not to judge her when I thought she was ruthlessly killing the bandits. The Badlands was a rough place, and it wasn¡¯t just monsters you had to worry about. Other than the safety of the towns and cities, it was mostly a lawless haven of criminals and outlaws, and they would do worse to you than just rob you. So, she¡¯d have to kill sometimes, and I was sure I¡¯d have to eventually as well. In defense of my own life, I think I could do it. I wouldn¡¯t like it, but I would do what I had to. That¡¯s what Deebo always said: we ought to treat life as precious, and only harm others in self-defense.

    I was glad I hadn¡¯t needed to take a life just yet. I was spared that act. It was one that I knew would stain my soul a darker shade. Maybe it would be unavoidable, but I would try to keep my hands clean for as long as possible.

    Instead, I allowed my thoughts to veer to the lighter side. We¡¯d won! It was a rough first day on the road, but I¡¯d won my first true Badlands brawl, and I felt like I could take on the entire world. Just maybe, I would.

 Chapter 14

    I released a heavy sigh now that I knew I could relax. We¡¯d won, and no one was dead, and I got all of my things back, and best of all, my best friend was back! What wasn¡¯t to love about that situation?

    It may have been ridiculous, but I clutched my bludgel close to my chest. ¡°I¡¯ll never leave you again.¡± I didn¡¯t care how I looked right at that moment.

    Nell raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you talking to your bludgel?¡±

    ¡°Yes, shut up.¡±

    She laughed. ¡°Fair enough. Be sure to give your dad¡¯s hat that same reverence.¡±

    And I did so. I took it off my head, held it against my chest, and bowed my head in prayer. ¡°If you get lost again, I¡¯ll throw myself headfirst into a Fissure¡ªteeth, claws, and all.¡±

    ¡°Lovely, Griff, lovely.¡±

    I cracked a wide grin. Then, the search began. I found my pack and shoes by the pile of shoes and bags, but not all of my things were there. My largest pack was absent, and as I looked around, it didn¡¯t become obvious where it was until I realized that the pack bison was gone.

    I cursed. Nell pointed west. ¡°Bison went upriver if that¡¯s what you¡¯re looking for.¡±

    Once I gave her thanks, I set off. The pack bison had apparently gotten spooked with all the fighting, so I went and retrieved the animal on the off chance that some of my gear was already packed on the bison. The beast hadn¡¯t run too far upriver, thankfully, and it didn¡¯t resist when I took hold of the harness and guided it back. Animals were well adept at sensing kindness and intention, and the bison knew I wasn¡¯t going to hurt it.

    When I returned to the bandit camp, Nell sat on one of the logs positioned around the fire. The blood on her face wiped away, she was currently working with some effort on stitching her arm wound. She¡¯d shed her coat, and her arms were bare. Her skin was more tanned than I remembered, and of course, there were several tattoos adorning her skin that had not been there when she left Parroia years ago.

    <blockquote>

    Card Detected: Scythe Proficiency, Uncommon, Tier 2

    Card Detected: Pathfinder, Uncommon, Tier 1

    Card Detected: Cooking Proficiency, Common, Tier 3

    Card Detected: Wrestling Proficiency, Common, Tier 1

    </blockquote>

    The [Scythe] tattoo showed a cloaked figure wielding a scythe shrouded in inky smoke, very much a play on the myth of the grim reaper. The [Pathfinder] tattoo, which I had seen before on Snyder, the old hunter in Parroia, was a stylized hound dog. I knew it was good for tracking people and animals as well as finding routes through dangerous terrain. She had the card tattooed on oher shoulder. The [Cooking] tattoo was one I¡¯d seen more than probably any other¡ªhalf the residents of Parroia had one. The [Wrestling] one depicted two figures grappling for dominance. I didn¡¯t think a lot of brawler types got it, always opting instead for [Pugilism], but if someone took you to the ground, then your fists wouldn¡¯t be useful.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been busy,¡± I commented.

    She looked up at me, confused, but then she gathered what I was referring to. ¡°Well, yeah, I need to have some skills to survive out here. And it really isn¡¯t that hard to get cards. I bet this lot has a few on hand.¡±

    I nodded, eager after hearing that. I could use a new card if they had any. I went to her side and offered her a hand. ¡°Do you need help?¡± I asked, referring to the stitching. I didn¡¯t have a [Sewing] or [Stitchwork] tattoo, but both of us knew how to stitch a cut. Deebo taught us both after we got into a bad scrap as kids with some older boys. Of course, it was harder doing it on your own arm.

    Nell hesitated for a moment before acquiescing. The needle and thread were ready to go in for another jab, and she¡¯d done a serviceable job at sewing half the wound already. It was a long cut over the middle of her [Scythe] tattoo, deep too, though she¡¯d stemmed the bleeding. Thankfully, getting a cut on a card tattoo didn¡¯t diminish the power of the card. Only an awful burn that erased the entirety of the illustration could take away the power, but that was a rare thing, and I didn¡¯t even know what happened after that. Did the card extract itself and become a card again, or was it simply lost forever? I was sure it was documented somewhere, but I hadn¡¯t read about it.

    We stayed quiet as I worked, though I could feel her gaze on me. She reached her other hand to my face and let her fingers trail down my stubbled jaw.

    ¡°Look at you,¡± she said, her words softer than I ever remembered them being. ¡°All grown up.¡±

    I felt my ears grow hot. ¡°Same to you. You¡¯re a full-grown woman now, and quite the looker, I might add.¡±

    She snorted like a pig, and that blessedly shattered that illusion. ¡°Yeah, right, Griff.¡± Then we were both laughing so hard, I had to stop stitching her lest I cause more damage than I healed.

    It took a few more minutes to finish up with the stitching. She made me pause what I was doing a couple times when the pain got bad, but she held up well to my generally unskilled jabs. After I finished, she grabbed a small metal flask from her hip pocket, popped the top, and downed a swig of something thick and syrupy that smelled alcoholic. A whisky of some kind. Then, unceremoniously, she dumped another splash of it right onto her wound. The sizzle was audible. She and I both yelped, but hers was piercing.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Gods above, what the hell, Nell?¡± I demanded.

    Even though she was wincing, she flashed a smile and raised the flask to me. ¡°Disinfectant. Second application.¡±

    I rolled my eyes hard before taking the rag she¡¯d used to wipe her blood and clearing away the wound again. ¡°A clearer alcohol woulda been better, you know?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have one. We work with what we got.¡±

    On that, I agreed.

    Nell stood up abruptly, shrugged on her duster again, and marched away as if she just remembered a critical mission. She took tall stomps, her knees rising almost to her chest. She was loosening up her limbs. Then she went to a large coil of rope near some of the bandits¡¯ barrels.

    ¡°Can you help me move the bodies together so we can tie them all up?¡± she asked.

    I tipped my hat to her, happy to oblige. I started with the Tamer. He was the farthest removed from the group, and I figured it would be wise to start with the hardest first. He was heavy as sin, and even though I was strong, it still took more effort than I expected to bring him to the center of the camp near the now-dead fire. As I dragged him by his legs, I risked a glance up and found the Needleback staring at me.

    Those bright eyes didn¡¯t break contact, and I was scared to look away, even though I knew there wouldn¡¯t be any way for the creature to hurt me or escape. Still, it was unnerving, and I cast my eyes down to avoid that stare. We had been very fortunate that the beast hadn¡¯t gotten out of the cage.

    Nell brought the rope over, and then together, we leaned all of the unconscious bandits against one of the trees, propping them up with their backs pressed to the bark. It was hard work, and I was drenched in sweat by the time we were finished. Dead-weight bodies were hard to move, no matter how strong you might be.

    She tied them up. I worried that there wouldn¡¯t be enough rope, but with them all sitting around the same tree, she wound the rope around their arms and middles until they were covered from collar to belt, and there would be no getting free from that. I hoped. She pulled the rope tight and tied the knot even tighter. You¡¯d need to cut it away to get them free, because no one was untying that knot.

    When she was done, she clapped her hands together, smiled, and gave me a thumbs up. ¡°Excellent job, Deputy.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that.¡±

    She laughed. ¡°Okay. We¡¯re not done though. Now come the spoils.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°The spoils?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Stolen loot is up for grabs. We¡¯ll never find the original owners, and it does us no good to let the law take all of it. I make a decent living, but I can always use more gold. They might have fragments or even full cards.¡±

    My interest was immediately piqued. ¡°Oh! Yeah, that would be good.¡±

    We went through all of their packs and boxes, and though we didn¡¯t find any whole cards, there were a couple of card fragments! [Common] ones, but still. Nell took one, and I kept the other. We also found a fair amount of coin. There was my coin purse, which had been in my smaller pack, but they¡¯d clearly robbed a lot of people, and we ultimately found ten gold worth. Most of it was in silver, but it added up.

    ¡°How about a sixty-forty split?¡± Nell said. ¡°I did most of the heavy lifting with the bandits, after all.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, and what about the bounty? You¡¯re gonna take all of that, I imagine.¡±

    ¡°Well, of course. I put the work in tracking them down.¡±

    ¡°Well, so did I.¡±

    ¡°To get your stuff back, not for the bounty.¡±

    ¡°Fine, 60-40 for this haul, and 70-30 for the bounty.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°85-15.¡±

    ¡°75 and 25,¡± I shot back.

    Nell opened her mouth, fully prepared to argue that position, but then she let her shoulders sag. ¡°Fine. You got yourself a deal.¡±

    We shook hands, and I smiled, feeling very pleased with myself. Not bad for a first day on the road, eh?

    There was more stuff to find, including a stash of potions, though half of them were unlabeled, and I was hesitant to drink anything I didn¡¯t know the effects of. We also gathered up all of their weapons and bound them in a roll of hide and tied it securely with some leather straps. I agreed to carry those.

    ¡°What should we do with the Needleback?¡± I asked Nell.

    She looked to the beast, her mouth set in a pout as she puzzled the question. She shrugged.

    ¡°Leave it be. I don¡¯t want to deal with it. Sometimes the lawmen have a Tamer with them, too, and we might get a commission for the find. If not, I¡¯m sure they can sell it, or kill it for a fragment.¡±

    I nodded. That made a lot of sense to me, so I didn¡¯t argue.

    After one more sweep around the camp, we didn¡¯t find anything else worth taking. We only had our arms and our backs to carry things, and we already were carrying plenty. The law could have everything else.

    Not a bad day¡¯s work, I concluded to myself.

    Together, we climbed out of the embankment and back to the higher ground of the deep wood. We walked side by side in silence for a time. I was tired and hungry, parched too, but I had my boots back on, my hat on my head, my bludgel on my back, and my packs secured.

    Nell broke the silence. ¡°Where are you heading?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Mushyon Ridge.¡±

    She gave me a quizzical look. ¡°Why? I¡¯d think you¡¯d head east, at least for a time. If you want to earn money and cards faster and easier, that¡¯s where I¡¯d go.¡±

    She was right, but it wasn¡¯t about earning money. I mean, I did have to do that to survive, but after the money I¡¯d just made, I¡¯d be set for a while.

    ¡°I have to find my brother. That¡¯s why I¡¯m out here. Gareth left about a year after you did. He got into an argument with Uncle Deebo and then left without even saying goodbye. I woulda gone after him right then, but my uncle made me stay, insisting I wasn¡¯t ready. A year later, when Deebo died, I knew I still wasn¡¯t ready. Now I am.¡±

    Nell fell silent. She¡¯d known my brother well and Uncle Deebo too. He was like an uncle to her as well, and she¡¯d had a brief crush on my brother, though I was sure that was done.

    ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know. If I had, I . . .. I could have come back. Not to stay, but I¡¯m sure you could have used a friend.¡±

    I smiled weakly. ¡°It¡¯s okay. You were out on the road, getting stronger, seeing the world, and living your dream. You never wanted to stay in Parroia.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but still, I¡¯m sorry. About Deebo especially. I always liked him.¡±

    ¡°He liked you a lot too. And don¡¯t worry. We both know my brother is tough as nails. I¡¯ll find him. And then I¡¯ll kick his ass.¡±

    Nell beamed. ¡°I¡¯d love to see that.¡± She stretched her arms high above her head. ¡°Well, I¡¯m actually heading toward Mushyon Ridge. We can travel together for a time. I don¡¯t like the idea of you going on your own. You clearly need my protection. Besides, the Barrowdown will have a large enough posse to come out here and get these jokers.¡±

    ¡°I beg to differ, Miss Newton. I seem to remember coming to your rescue there, but I will accept a good friend¡¯s companionship.¡±

    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Whatever, Gunnar. I can¡¯t promise we won¡¯t part ways once we get there, but we can go there together. I, too, would like to give your brother a piece of my mind.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the only thing you want to give him.¡±

    She punched me in the arm with all her strength, and it hurt, but I was laughing too hard to feel any pain.

    Eventually, we exited the forest, the sunlight streaming warm and bright upon us. We got back to the road and headed west, and I felt even better than I had the day before. Filled with hope, purpose, and now friendship. What more could I ask for?

 Chapter 15

    I was on the road again and having a good time traveling with my friend. What could be better?

    We walked on the side of the road where the hard-packed dirt covered in hoof prints, boot prints, and wagon grooves met the dry grass that dominated this part of the Badlands. Ahead of us, barren landscapes stretched as far as the eye could see. The road curved toward the hills in the distance, and that was where Nell said the next town was. As we traveled, the hills gradually grew larger and more frequent until they met the high red bluffs of the Cardinal Plateau. Part of those bluffs had served as the northern wall of Parroia. Now, they sat off to the north on our right, a league or so away, but I could see how they curved south far ahead and met the hills.

    My eyes kept searching the distant shade of the bluffs for the caves that dotted the cliffside. They were notoriously full of bandits and monsters as well as pitstops for braver travelers. Travelers like Nell. I looked at her and smiled, still in awe and disbelief.

    I couldn¡¯t believe that I was walking along the road, boots kicking up dust, with Nell Newton at my side. After so many years, after thinking it was likely I¡¯d never see her again. Here she was, in the flesh.

    To be honest, the whole fight in the forest with the bandits felt like a dream, and not in the fun way where I was doing something I always wanted to do. Even though it was only hours ago, the memory was rushing from my mind, retreating into the darkness of my brain. Already, it felt like it hadn¡¯t really happened. Surely, all of this was too crazy for my first day on the road, right? And Nell appearing? That couldn¡¯t be real. What were the odds?

    But no, she was there. She whistled a jaunty bar tune. I didn¡¯t know it, but I had heard the similar songs at the saloons of Parroia. Her whistling had gotten degrees better from how out of tune it had once been. She whistled with the expertise of a songbird now.

    The sun blasted us as we walked, and despite my straw hat, my body was scorched, and my nose felt hot. Surely, this was real too. It would be rude of my dreams to make me feel so uncomfortable and so happy at the same time.

    No, no, I knew this was real. I could have some wild, wacky, and vivid dreams, and I had a healthy, vivid imagination too, but even my wildest dreams couldn¡¯t cook this up. So, I knew it had to be true. Nell, alive and in the flesh. Me, on the road to the adventure I¡¯d always dreamed of. Both of us heading west toward my brother and the heart of the Badlands.

    ¡°Stop smiling like that. You¡¯re creeping me out,¡± Nell said suddenly, wrenching me out of my head with some violence. My face flushed, and it wasn¡¯t from the sun.

    I cleared my throat. ¡°Sorry. I was just thinking how lucky I am.¡±

    She arched an eyebrow. ¡°Lucky how?¡±

    ¡°Well, I mean . . .¡± I cleared my throat. ¡°I was robbed blind. They coulda killed me, bled me dry right then and there, but they didn¡¯t, and I ain¡¯t gonna sit here and say that wasn¡¯t some divine serendipity. And even crazier, I just happened to bump into you after all these years. What are the odds? So yeah, I¡¯m feeling lucky.¡±

    It was her turn to blush a bit. She looked away and pulled her hat a little lower. ¡°I¡¯m happy to have found you too. But this isn¡¯t permanent.¡±

    ¡°Course not. Just a friendly trip, then we part ways.¡±

    ¡°And then we part ways,¡± she echoed.

    I had a feeling that neither of us actually wanted that, but we weren¡¯t about to voice it. I certainly wasn¡¯t, but I did want to stay with her. To find my brother with Nell by my side? He¡¯d flip out. I thought Nell felt the same, but I wasn¡¯t sure. After all, I didn¡¯t know what her life was like now. The years had changed her, and probably more than I could tell from the surface. I was different too.

    When we got to the town, we waited in the tavern while the sheriff and his posse went to the woods to find the bandits. I was worried that somehow the bandits would wake up and find a way to escape, or that a monster would come by and kill them. If they got away, we didn¡¯t get the bounty, and if a monster killed them, we¡¯d get a lesser bounty. Besides, I didn¡¯t want them to die like that.

    ¡°We need to get you another card or two,¡± she said. ¡°These parts aren¡¯t too dangerous, not like further south and west, but the further you go looking for Gareth, you¡¯ll need more than just a basic [Polearm] card. Never mind going to Valley of the Tears. Without any Epic or higher graded cards, you¡¯ll be toast.¡±

    I nodded and pulled out my one card fragment. It glowed faintly. The blazing midday sun dulled the fragment¡¯s light considerably. Made it seem dead and powerless, even though I knew that wasn¡¯t the case. I still needed one more to get another card. I supposed a [Strength] or [Speed] card would pair well with my bludgel, or maybe I could stack another [Polearm] card on it to raise it up to Tier 2. Most skill cards could be stacked to increase their proficiency, usually in tiers of 3, though some had more and some less. [Pugilism] and [Swordsmanship], for example, each went up to 5. I didn¡¯t know how high [Polearm] went. And that was just for [Common] cards. The higher the card grade, the less you could stack them.

    I pocketed the fragment again. ¡°You have quite a few card tattoos,¡± I said. ¡°Did you get all of them from killing monsters, or did they come from looting bandits and getting bounty rewards?¡±

    Nell thought about it for a second. ¡°It¡¯s a mix, though most came from monsters and bandits. Not every bounty offers fragments, and very rarely do they offer fully formed cards. At least, not around here. Towns in the south offer more, but those parts of the Badlands are hell.

    ¡°They don¡¯t call them the Blood Plains for nothing.¡±

    ¡°Right. You won¡¯t last there without at least a healthy dose of [Uncommon] cards and maybe even some [Rares]. I steer clear of that area still.¡±

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Do you think Gareth would be there?¡±

    She wriggled her lips. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But I also haven¡¯t a clue what he left town for or what he¡¯s after.¡±

    I didn¡¯t either. Not even after all these years.

    I thought back to the day he left. It hadn¡¯t started as any extraordinary day. Nell and I went to the lake behind the town to fish, though that was mostly for fun. Eating the fish from there wasn¡¯t the best idea. It had been a nice fall evening, typical of that time of year, when it was nippy in the morning but warm by noon and then cool again in the evenings.

    At the end of it, when the sun was careening fast to the west, we went home and parted ways. When I got back to Deebo¡¯s house, I heard the yelling long before I even reached the door. I couldn¡¯t make out the words, but anger charged the air, dangerous and scary. Deebo never yelled at us, and neither Gareth nor I ever yelled at him, even if we were mad. We yelled at each other plenty, but never Deebo. So, when I heard them clashing like that, I¡¯d frozen.

    Before long, it was just Gareth yelling. I was afraid to go any closer, afraid to even put my ear to the door or look through the windows and see what they were arguing about, lest they discover me and that wall of rage came slamming down onto me.

    Then, it got so silent. Silent as death, and that terrified me even more. That was when the trance finally broke, and I reached to open the door, but before I could, it swung open.

    Gareth strode out, bags packed and thrown over his shoulder. His sword sat on his hip. It had only been a few months since he¡¯d turned sixteen and got his first card, but he was already well on his way to being one of the town¡¯s best hunters. I could tell that this wasn¡¯t him going on an excursion into the hills for some hunting though. I just knew. He saw me there. He looked at me with such coldness that to this day, I haven¡¯t forgotten it. It wasn¡¯t angry or hateful. It was just uncaring, resigned, dead. It probably wasn¡¯t directed at me, but sometimes, I still feel like maybe it was.

    That look only lasted a heartbeat, but he continued to stride forward. He was so big and strong, so sturdy and stalwart. I didn¡¯t have words. Or tears. He stopped by my side, pulled me against him with one arm. Held me there tight for I don¡¯t know how long.

    Then he let go and left me. Walked right out of my life without a word. I knew he loved me, I did. Still do, but I wished he¡¯d said so. I wish I would have said it too. Wished I would have fought to keep him home. I was just too stunned. The fight didn¡¯t come to the surface until it was far too late.

    That was four years ago. Four long, impossible years ago. All I knew is that they were arguing about my parents.

    I never got any details out of Uncle Deebo. And when I asked him about it, it was the only time he ever showed any real anger my way. So, I never pushed him. And then he died, eliminating any chance I had of getting answers. So, I¡¯ll be damned if I don¡¯t get them answers straight from the horse¡¯s mouth. Gareth was going to tell me everything, or I¡¯d beat his ass. Actually, I planned to kick his ass anyway.

    ¡°I guess he doesn¡¯t know about Deebo,¡± Nell said. ¡°Or me, for that matter. He probably still thinks my mom and dad are alive and I¡¯ve been living the good life in Parroia all this time.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, probably. If he thinks of us at all.¡±

    She looked at me, stopping midstride. I stopped too. Her gaze was sad but serious. ¡°He does, Griff.¡±

    I wished I could be so sure. ¡°How do you know?¡±

    ¡°Of course, I don¡¯t know, but we have to believe it, alright? Especially you. You¡¯re his brother. He didn¡¯t leave because of you. I¡¯m sure whatever his reasons were, they were good ones. You¡¯ll find him. He¡¯s alive. He¡¯s thriving, I bet. He¡¯s far too strong even for the Badlands to break.¡±

    It was hard to swallow just then. My lungs hitched in their breath-taking duties. My lips quirked into a small smile, and I started walking again. Nell followed.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re right,¡± I told her as I fingered the brim of my straw hat and pulled it a little lower.

    ¡°I am.¡±

    A part of me knew she was right. I wasn¡¯t a pessimistic person. I¡¯d always thought Gareth was doing fine out here, that he had some grand purpose and mission that he had to fulfill, and that was why he left and hadn¡¯t come back. Whatever the reason he left, that purpose wasn¡¯t fulfilled yet.

    I thought about the note he had left, the one that Deebo had hidden away and never showed me, the one that I held in my pocket. The one that was my only direction, the only beacon I had in this storm.

    With trembling hands, I pulled it out again and unfolded it, rereading the words for the billionth time. My eyes traced the messy script of Gareth¡¯s hand. He was calm and collected, great in pressure-packed situations. He knew how to handle himself and how to help and protect people. He was a leader. But his handwriting was crap. He never had time for reading and writing, though Deebo had made sure to drill it into him. Our parents would have wanted us to have at least a rudimentary education. It was more than could be said for most in the Badlands.

    To Mushyon Ridge. Where it all began.

    ¡°Let me see that,¡± Nell had silently sidled up beside me. It wasn¡¯t easy to get a jump on me or approach me without my notice, but Nell always had the gift of being able to penetrate my defenses. It seemed time had only strengthened that, given how completely she overpowered me in the woods before she knew who I was.

    I handed her the note. I¡¯d told her about Mushyon Ridge already, so I doubted she could possibly glean anything from it that I had somehow missed after my thousands and thousands of viewings.

    ¡°Does Mushyon Ridge mean anything to you?¡± I asked.

    She shook her head. Her eyes remained glued to the parchment as they traced across the uneven scrawl of letters. I doubted she¡¯d admit it, but I bet deep down, that crush on my brother was still there. A low flame, a dying ember, desperate for some tinder to stoke it. And a dried parchment was perfect tinder.

    ¡°I stop there sometimes for bounties and supplies, but it doesn¡¯t hold a special meaning to me. What about you?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Deebo never talked about it, but clearly, something happened there. What, I haven¡¯t a damn clue.

    ¡°Where what began?¡± she whispered, staring at the note.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to figure that out ever since I found the note after Deebo died. I wish I¡¯d heard what that argument was about when he left. It¡¯s not like the walls or windows of the house were super insulated. I bet I coulda found out if I tried, but I was too stunned.¡±

    ¡°And no one in town knew?¡±

    I let out a huff through my nose. ¡°Well, this ain¡¯t exactly something I wanted to make public, ya know? I did ask a few people, but they either didn¡¯t have a clue, or they were lying. I bet if I asked them now, I might be able to sniff out some truth. But I couldn¡¯t read people at all back then. Who knows what type of tells and obvious bluffs I might have missed?¡±

    Nell snickered. ¡°Yeah, it was so easy to lie to you. Deebo had to ban you from playing cards. Even a child could read you like a book.¡±

    My cheeks heated. ¡°I¡¯m better now! When we get to the next town, we¡¯ll play a round!¡±

    She laughed fully then. ¡°You don¡¯t have to prove anything. It means you have an honest heart, and that¡¯s rare out here.¡±

    ¡°Honest or not, sometimes you need to be able to tell a lie . And you need to be able to determine the truth in a sea of liars and thieves.¡±

    ¡°True enough.¡±

    And the lie now was that I had any clue about what I was doing and where I was going, but I wasn¡¯t going to confront the truth of that just yet. I¡¯d let that lie carry me on a little further. At least until Mushyon Ridge. There, I¡¯d get answers, or I wouldn¡¯t, and then it would be time for new lies and new truths.

 Chapter 16

    We made it to Barrowdown around noon. The hills began about a mile from the town, as did a perimeter of spooky, gray-barked trees that all looked dead or burnt and that surrounded the hills in a perfect circle. Nell said nothing on that.

    Despite the eerie entrance, once you got through that ring of trees, the hills were grassy and pleasant. Tall grass and wildflowers swayed in the wind and basked in the early afternoon sun. But the town sat under a wall of shadow, enveloped in the shade of the large cliffside behind it. The sheer rock wall leading to the Cardinal Plateau was several times taller than the one near Parroia, and I had to crane my neck to try to glimpse the top. Thankfully, here there weren¡¯t any caves that I could see. If there were, I was sure this town would have them cleared on a regular basis.

    Barrowdown was a small town, not nearly the size of Parroia, and a mere ant next to the bigger river ports and train depots back East, let alone the big cities. But it wasn¡¯t a tiny little village. They did have walls to ward off monsters, though not as tall as Parroia¡¯s. Not even a story tall if I had to guess and made of the same red rock as the bluffs. There was one main road of hard rocky soil and gravel, an avenue lined with pale stone homes and shops. There were side streets beyond the main route through town, but Nell didn¡¯t lead us down those.

    It didn¡¯t feel busy, but I was used to the bustle of the Parroia market or the rush of miners at the end of the workday. I could see beyond the walls, and against the cliffs, there was a mining camp. Perhaps most of the people were there. Or maybe it was simply because this wasn¡¯t as big of a town. It also wasn¡¯t a train stop, so they didn¡¯t get frequent stops from people coming and going from east to west and vice versa.

    Our first stop was the sheriff¡¯s office, a wide, flat roofed building, low ceilinged and with bars over the windows. Out front, a couple of horses were hitched to a ring, a water trough at their feet. The entrance to the lockup had a slanted red-tile awning that stretched across the wide front fa?ade of the building. Several chairs and rocking chairs sat there, but only one was occupied by a large deputy. His belly strained against his gray shirt and white hide vest. His dark skin glistened with noon sweat even in the shade of the cliffs. In his left hand, a polished black iron spear stood tall and proud, the tip almost grazing the awning.

    He spat into a spittoon before he noticed us coming from the main road. He rocked forward and used the momentum of the rocking chair to swing onto his feet.

    ¡°Miss Newton,¡± he said, his voice rough and crackly. ¡°You¡¯re back.¡± He tipped his pale leather hat.

    Nell nodded. ¡°Aye, Deputy. My friend and I dealt with the bandits. They were in the little wood off the road about a third of the way from Parroia. It¡¯s on Hather¡¯s River. We left them tied up there. Better hurry if you want to round them up. Gather a posse.¡±

    I bet if I had come with this information, they would have balked at my claims, but Nell obviously commanded respect in this exchange, and the deputy didn¡¯t hesitate.

    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± he said and immediately ran inside.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be at the tavern awaiting our reward!¡± she called out, and the man waved acknowledgement as he disappeared inside.

    Nell turned and started up the street. I followed after her, adjusting the straps of my packs and my bludgel as I did so.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to speak with the sheriff?¡± I asked.

    She shook her head. ¡°Nah, we¡¯ve already met, and I¡¯ve done jobs for them before. They know my word is good. The sheriff is a bit of a softy for a lawman, but he runs a tight ship. They¡¯ll have a posse rounded up in no time. They¡¯ll ride hard and be there and back by dinner at the latest.¡±

    ¡°Well, then we have a lot of time to kill.¡±

    Her smile was wicked. ¡°Aye, we do. And me, personally, I love my downtime.¡±

    I remembered what her downtime used to be, namely fishing at the pond, beating up annoying boys, or gambling. There was no pond here, and I hoped she didn¡¯t go around beating up boys anymore, child or grown. The gambling might have been a habit that persisted though. I bet she was even better now than she was then.

    But we didn¡¯t do any of that, which was a relief. Instead, Nell pulled me by the arm and dragged me along.

    First, Nell was insistent that I get another card. She took me to the town¡¯s Cardsmith. Not every town had one, of course, especially not the small villages, hovels, and farming steads, but Barrowdown was big enough and trafficked enough to warrant one. This one was on the main road like it seemed everything of note was in Barrowdown.

    Not quite as grand as the dual smithies back in Parroia, this one was a squat little circular hut of a building, the roof made of the same red tile as the jailer¡¯s awning. The roof ended in a gabled point with a small opening between the roof and the tip to allow light in and smoke out. A metal weathervane sat on top, depicting a coiled drake. I was used to seeing cockatrice vanes since they could emit electric magics and were immune to the same. But drakes also held resistance to them as well.

    Nell went inside without prompting, opening the thick yellow door without so much as a knock. No one was waiting outside, and as I joined her in the hut, no one was waiting inside either, save for the Cardsmith themselves.

    ¡°G¡¯day, Miss Merriam,¡± Nell said with a respectful bow.

    The Cardsmith, who was a middle-aged woman with round cheeks, a kind face, and thick circular glasses, looked up from a large pile of leatherbound books and a scattering of papers across the ground.

    ¡°Oh, Miss Newton, you¡¯ve returned! I didn¡¯t expect to see you so soon.¡±

    ¡°Well, I finished that bounty right quick, and it was easier to come back west than head east. Plus, my friend here needs a new card.¡±

    At that, she stepped aside to allow the master to see me. I bowed.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Griff Gunnar, ma¡¯am. Outta Parroia just like Nell. A pleasure to meet you.¡±

    The Cardsmith smiled, a warm sight. Her cheeks were creased with well-worn laugh lines. Her graying brown hair was tied back into an elaborate nest of ropy braids.

    ¡°Nice to meet you, Mr. Griff. So, you¡¯ve come to me from Elloy, I assume?¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. Just got my first card yesterday.¡±

    ¡°Oh my, and already needing a new one? Was the first not good enough?¡±

    I smiled a crooked grin as I scratched the back of my head. ¡°No, it was perfectly fine. More than fine. I really like it, and also my new weapon, but it¡¯s been made abundantly clear by the events of this fine day that I¡¯m gonna need more than the one card I got at the moment.¡±

    She nodded. Her eyes were dark, though the low lighting of the candlelit room and the lack of windows probably made them darker than they were.

    Then she clapped her hands together quite suddenly, which made me jump. Nell either was used to this or wasn¡¯t easily spooked, which tracked for her, but it left my cheeks feeling warm and red. Thank goodness for the dimness.

    ¡°I¡¯d be happy to oblige you, lad. What can I do for ya?¡±

    ¡°Just a [Common] card for now. It¡¯s all I can afford.¡±

    ¡°And a [Common] card it shall be.¡± She stood at last, rising to her full height, which was not much. She was very short even for a woman, but in the profession of cardsmithing, that didn¡¯t matter at all. She put her palm out, and I obliged her with one of the [Common] fragments. Once she pocketed it, she produced her smithing stylus out of seemingly nowhere, but more than likely, it came from one of her baggy yellow-and-orange sleeves.

    ¡°Let¡¯s begin, shall we?¡±

    The ceremony was much the same as the one I had experienced with Master Elloy. Her stylus glowed with power and she closed her eyes as she spoke the magic words. She began to dance, more than Elloy had done. Her movements were much more fluid and acrobatic. With each turn and twist, the smoke trailed her and gathered in her wake. I noticed she didn¡¯t use a cigarro to help facilitate like Elloy, but I knew they all had their own process.

    She plucked the second fragment from my hand. From there, the process was near identical. The fragment glowed bright, joining with the smoke and growing larger until it formed a full card. Then it all died down again, the smoke rising to escape through the slats in the ceiling.

    Merriam stopped dancing. She steepled her hands in front of her, my card pinned between them, her stylus gone again. She opened her eyes and smiled.

    ¡°It is done,¡± she said, her voice flat, almost like she was coming out of a trance.

    She handed the card to me. Nell pushed close and peered around my shoulder. ¡°Whatcha get?¡±

    In my hands was a brand-new card. In it, an inky figure running. No, sprinting. The stylized background was a blur. Wings, or maybe they were tongues of fire, sprouted from the running figure¡¯s feet.

    It was a [Speed] card.

    ¡°Oh, a [Speed] card. That should be perfect pairing with your bludgel,¡± Nell said.

    ¡°I agree,¡± added Merriam.

    I nodded. I had really wanted a [Strength] card, but [Speed] was good too. We thanked the Cardsmith, both of us bowing, and then we went on our way.

    Once we were outside, I looked at my card again. This time, I really concentrated on it.

    The card system in me recognized the card and pulled up the facts about it, appearing clear as day in the middle of my vision.

    <blockquote>

    <u>New Card: Speed Boost</u>

    Level: Common, Tier 1

    Grants card holder increased speed when running, jumping, and / or attacking, depending on which part of the body card is used on.

    Focus: Feet, Legs, Hands, Arms

    Incompatibility: Head

    Synergy: Stacking

    </blockquote>

    I mulled it over, studying my arms and my legs. ¡°What do you think would be better, legs or arms?¡± I asked Nell.

    She looked at me, head tilted a bit as she hemmed and hawed. ¡°I think to start, your upper leg. The feet will make you run the fastest, but the thigh will still give you a faster run plus allow you to jump a lot higher and farther as well. Save the hands and arms for strength or whatever else comes up. The hands are too versatile.¡±

    Yeah, I thought about the same as she did. Plus, my [Polearm] card already gave me heightened reflexes and arm speed to some extent, so I could get away with leaving it like that for now. But on the legs, the card would help me against fast and shifty monsters or bandits and outlaws who had guns or bows.

    So, I turned away from Nell, loosened my belt, and pulled my jeans open enough that I could hold the card against my leg. I saw her smirking at me with an eyebrow raised as I pressed the card to my flesh.

    The feeling wasn¡¯t pleasant, but it wasn¡¯t as much of a shock as it had been for the first card. It helped that I could brace myself this time since I knew what was coming. Once that initial feeling passed, I quickly pulled my pants back up and buckled my belt again. Thankfully, there was no one really close by, aside from a few people hanging around the storefronts and tavern down the way. Even if there were people around, I wasn¡¯t going to let something silly like modesty keep me from powering up, that was for sure.

    With some excitement, I put my bags and my bludgel down next to Nell¡¯s feet. Then I stood straighter, stretching my arms above my head, followed by bending forward to stretch my legs. I ran in place for a second to get the blood pumping.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Nell asked with the tone of a schoolteacher baffled by one of her idiot students.

    ¡°I wanna try out my [Speed] card, of course.¡±

    She snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t hurt yourself, Griff. Take it slow.¡±

    But how could I take it slow when I had Speed?

    In response, I took off at a sprint. And she was absolutely right. My arms and legs carried me with a grace I had never known, and though it didn¡¯t feel like I was moving my arms and legs faster than before, the buildings blurred around me, and the cool, shady air pressed hard against me as my legs carried me through it. My stomach twisted at the sudden change in speed, and I knew I had to slow down.

    But I stopped too abruptly, and my momentum was too great, so I tumbled forward when I tried to stop and landed in the dirt with a painful thud. I knew immediately that I had torn the sleeve of my shirt and the knee of my pants because pain burned my elbow and knee on my right side.

    ¡°She¡¯s gonna say I told you so,¡± I said to myself with a face full of dust.

    Sure enough. ¡°I told you so!¡± she yelled.

    I gave her a less than polite hand gesture from my place on the ground indicating I thought she was number one. Then, I gathered myself and stood, which did hurt, but I¡¯d been in a lot worse shape after a scrap before.

    Nell still stood guard over my things. She was smiling and clearly trying to contain her laughter. ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asked. I could hear the suppressed giggle just below the surface.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± And I was. I could mend my sleeve and pants, and I got scraped skin every week at least.

    To get back to her, I braced myself this time. I took a deep breath, squatted at the knee, and then sprang forth from a standing position. My legs launched me into the air and hurled me at Nell. Too fast, too hard. I flailed my arms and legs, and only just managed to get my boots down below me to catch myself before I made more of a fool out of myself. I was doubly glad that Barrowdown was emptied out today.

    Nell¡¯s smile was warm and amused. ¡°Satisfied with your new card, eh, Mr. Gunnar?¡±

    I brushed the dust off my clothes with as much dignity as I could manage. I¡¯d need to wash the dirt out of my scrapes when I got access to water.

    ¡°Yes, I am, Miss Newton, yes, I am. I need to work out the kinks, but I think Mr. Speed and I will be . . . fast friends.¡±

    She groaned. I laughed. We both smiled. It felt like old times.

    I shouldered my bag again and took up my bludgel. ¡°Okay, I feel great. Now what?¡±

    At that exact moment, both of our stomachs synchronized and rumbled together. I slapped a hand to my belly. She cleared her throat, her cheeks a darker shade.

    ¡°Let¡¯s eat,¡± we said in unison.

 Chapter 17

    The Ugly Possum Saloon was a pretty standard-fare tavern. Even before we walked in through the swinging half doors, we were greeted by a jaunty piano rendition of ¡°The Wrangler¡¯s Lament.¡± Deebo used to love that song, though he preferred it on a fiddle. Whoever was playing this one was skilled. Their hands were flying across the keys. That is, unless it was one of them automatic pianos from back East that played pre-recorded songs. I didn¡¯t know how the machines worked at all, but I doubted a small town like Barrowdown would have something that fancy. Sure enough, I was right.

    My assumption was validated as soon as we entered the main room of the saloon. It was large and open with a stage to the left where the piano player sat. A pale woman in a poofy green dress tickled the ivories, her blonde hair made up in an elaborate pattern, ringlets hanging around her ears and jaw.

    A few other women in bright-colored corsets and skirts lounged on the upstairs balcony, leaning from the railing as they fanned themselves with lace and silk fans, burly men flirting at their sides. Beneath the balcony was an elaborate bar with a mirrored wall lined with shelves and covered in bottles of fine drink. It was nicer than I had expected.

    The clientele, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t nearly as nice as the saloon might have suggested. It was a bunch of grimy men with coal-darkened faces and soot-stained clothes. They sang and drank and laughed, but I didn¡¯t sense the twinge of violence in the air that a lot of saloons cultivated. That didn¡¯t mean that it couldn¡¯t be set off at the drop of a hat.

    My vision was suddenly overcome by a barrage of new card info from everyone. A lot of them had their sleeves rolled up, and most of the women had arms and shoulders bare. No one was devoid of ink. Ten cards, twenty, more. It overwhelmed me, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut for a moment to keep my head from spinning. I¡¯d read about this before, that initial overwhelming feeling when you saw a large crowd of people with exposed card tattoos. It wasn¡¯t pleasant, but I knew it would get easier to ignore the more experienced I got.

    Nell seemed to notice this. She slung an arm around my shoulders and guided me to a corner booth on the opposite wall from the piano. The red leather seat was in need of some polishing and a patch where some rips had begun to grow, but it was comfy.

    We ordered a gourd of cactus wine to share, plus a bowl of sugar bark if we wanted to add it to the wine to make it even sweeter. Nell ordered a simple iguana-and-vegetable stew, but I needed a bit more substance, so I ordered a platter of boiled scorpions. It was a delicacy, and I loved it.

    ¡°Remember when you, me, Gareth, and Pearla had a scorpion platter for dinner, and those merchants from the capital who were passing through saw us?¡± I asked her after the barmaid left our table with our orders.

    Nell laughed. ¡°Yeah, that poor man just about lost his lunch. I¡¯m surprised he kept it down. Easties don¡¯t eat anything fun. It¡¯s all healthy and wholesome, whatever the hell that means.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe for a second that they aren¡¯t eating monsters,¡± I replied. ¡°I mean, there¡¯s a market for it, and I know damn well someone is eating ¡¯em. And it ain¡¯t just us out here in the Badlands. Gotta be them. They¡¯re the only swanky puffs flush enough to afford a rack of drake ribs.¡±

    ¡°I know for a fact they do. I went to Imodia City for a bounty, farthest east I¡¯ve ever been, and I saw a whole fancy restaurant dedicated solely to serving monster. It was after lunch but still packed. I didn¡¯t go in though. I was broke at the time, and even if I¡¯d had the money, I doubt they¡¯d have let a fresh Badlands waste dog into their fine establishment.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I sipped my wine, the sweet nectar rolling down my throat, and a single bead down my chin. ¡°Well, damn. Now I¡¯m curious.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a vendor in Mushyon Ridge that sells monster meat. His sons do the hunting, and he does the cooking. And he doesn¡¯t charge an arm and a leg.¡±

    ¡°Then I guess we have that to look forward to.¡±

    Of course, sometimes the saloons in Parroia did sell monster meat, but it was always expensive, and even when I did have the money to buy a plate, I was dubious about it. A part of me was convinced it would poison me or change me in some fundamental way. I knew that was ridiculous, but it was hard to shake the feeling.

    Our food came out soon enough. My tray of steamy red scorpions looked amazing, Fragrant clouds wafting off of them. At the piano, the player finished her song, the keys dancing into a crescendo before a deep, bassy dismount. The room erupted into applause. Then she took a break.

    We were both famished. Me especially. I didn¡¯t know if Nell had eaten breakfast that morning, but I¡¯d woke up with literally nothing but my clothes, so my stomach was empty and ready. The food was delicious. I mean, I¡¯d had better, but given my lack of food and the death-defying battle in the woods, that food tasted better than anything on earth or in the heavens.

    Once I was reasonably satisfied, I leaned back, my stomach content, and sighed as I basked in the lively atmosphere. My attention turned to Nell, who had been silent as we ate, her smile subdued but constant as she enjoyed her food and the music.

    ¡°What have you been up to these last couple years?¡± I asked her.

    She still had her parents, unlike me and my brother. That said, her parents hadn¡¯t been great. Her mother couldn¡¯t walk after a wound she suffered in a monster raid years prior, so she sat at their home at a loom making tapestries, carpets, and the like. It wasn¡¯t the high-quality material you would find in the city, but it was good enough. Nell always was the one who took them to the market to sell. Deebo and Gareth looked out for her, as did a lot of others. Overall, she was well-liked.

    Her father, on the other hand, was a lot like Elryck and Thoman, a part-time miner and a full-time drinker. When he wasn¡¯t drowning in his cups or choking on smog in the mines, he was berating his wife and daughter . . . or hitting them. We ought to have done something more about that, but unfortunately, abuse was not uncommon in families in the Badlands. He had his moments of being a sweet and loving father, of course. All human beings were complex. No one was simply good or bad. Still, he was a piece of work.

    The year she left, her father died in a mining accident¡ªunfortunately, also not an uncommon occurrence¡ªand her mother took her life in grief. I never understood why she did that, as Barret Newton was not a kind man to his wife or daughter, but I supposed love was a strange thing. There must have been times when they were happy and in love, I guess. When her husband died, she apparently couldn¡¯t go on any longer, not with her disability and a small daughter to take care of.

    Nell and I drifted apart that year, even though Gareth and I wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Deebo even offered to take her in, but Nell instead moved in with her aunt, a widow who was kind enough but rather strict compared to her parents. After a few months, the aunt took Nell away to somewhere in the east to get a better education. It seemed some of that took, but now she was a hunter of men and monsters alike, and I doubted that was what the aunt had had in mind.

    Regardless, I was glad Nell was with me now.

    She spooned some of her stew into her mouth. ¡°I hunt. I gather bounties. I use those earnings to eat and live. I live a Badlands life. Same as before, just a different occupation.¡±

    I clasped my hands together in front of me. ¡°You know what I mean. How long have you been a hunter? What happened to your aunt? What did you do after you left? It¡¯s been two and a half years, approaching three. That¡¯s a long time.¡±

    It became clear to me that this was not a subject she was excited to discuss. What smile she¡¯d had for the food and the singing suddenly vanished. Her emotions left her with haste, her eyes becoming portals into a painful memory. One I couldn¡¯t possibly see, and I wasn¡¯t sure if I wanted to.

    ¡°It didn¡¯t work out. We moved to the east for a time. Azalea. A pretty town. Near the Great Pine Woods. It¡¯s no eastie city, but it¡¯s bigger than Parroia and most towns in the Badlands. Honestly, I did like it, but I missed home. Missed you and Gareth and Deebo and everyone else. But I went to school, learned a lot, took up a weaving apprenticeship, made some friends, had three steady meals a day.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°Then what went wrong? Why are you here and not there?¡±

 Chapter 18

    Nell stared at the stage, lost in thought for a moment. She didn¡¯t touch her drink.

    ¡°Like I said, it didn¡¯t work out in Azalea,¡± she finally answered softly

    The barmaid came and took dishes and gave us more wine. I sucked on the sugar bark for a while as the piano player returned to the stage and started a new song. It was a slower number, more melancholic. I didn¡¯t know it, but the deep cords struck me.

    What had happened to her? I wondered but knew she didn¡¯t want to tell me. I didn¡¯t want to make her uncomfortable, but I hated seeing my friend in such obvious pain. She was a different person now, and that pained me too. I wanted to know her like I used to know her.

    ¡°If you tell me what¡¯s going on, maybe I can help you.¡± I took another swig of my drink.

    She turned back to me and raised a brow. ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°I mean, what are you trying to accomplish out here? You have to be striving for something more than just collecting bounties. I don¡¯t mean it to sound like you ain¡¯t got a bigger purpose, but you haven¡¯t made it obvious. It¡¯s fine if you don¡¯t have a life goal yet. We¡¯re both still pups in the grand scheme of it all, so we got time to figure it all out.¡±

    ¡°Plenty of time, sure, as long as you don¡¯t get killed by a monster or bandit or whatever the hell the Badlands can throw your way.¡±

    ¡°Combative retort noted, Miss Newton. Now, answer the question.¡± The way she glared at me had me quickly backtracking. ¡°That is, if you¡¯re comfortable answering. You don¡¯t have to tell me crap if you don¡¯t want to. What business is it of mine, anyway?¡±

    She dropped her glare then, thankfully. It had been a long time since I¡¯d been on the receiving end of one of her icy stares, and I was reminded how much I didn¡¯t like it. Gareth had always laughed it off, which did piss her off, but maybe that was another reason why she¡¯d liked him. He wasn¡¯t afraid of her. Not that I was, but she wasn¡¯t someone to mess with.

    Nell sighed and picked up her pack from the floor. She dug into one of the pockets and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. It was parchment like the one Gareth left me, but thicker material, a darker beige. Meant for hanging outside and enduring the elements. The heavy ink was dark on the parchment as I unfolded it and looked it over.

    It was a wanted poster. In it, a man a few years older than myself, maybe Gareth¡¯s age, it was hard to tell.

    WANTED

    DEAD OR ALIVE

    VALENTINE ¡°THE BUTCHER¡± DUPRE

    REWARD: 200 GOLD or 3 RARE CARDS

    The man in question wore a dark poncho and a wide sun hat. His hair was long and pale, hanging past his shoulders, and shaggy stubble covered his face. Of course, this was an inked typeset wanted poster copied from the original sketch of him, so who knew how accurate it was?

    I didn¡¯t recognize the man at all, but the name did sound familiar. There were always a lot of wanted men roaming the Badlands, and I always glanced at the bounty wall at the jailhouse. I¡¯d probably seen this wanted poster before, even if I didn¡¯t specifically remember it.

    The reward was enormous though! There were worse criminals out there with higher bounties, but they were few and far between, and this one was certainly notable. But what was his connection with Nell? I could tell from the way she was grinding her teeth that this wasn¡¯t some random bounty that she hunted for the sake of the money. No, this was personal.

    ¡°Who is this?¡±

    Nell leaned her face against her hand. She wouldn¡¯t meet my eyes, as she was too busy trying to corral her rage. Her throat convulsed with a heavy gulp.

    ¡°A little over a year ago, Azalea was attacked by a horde of monsters. It was a bad one, which was odd because even though we were in the Badlands, the eastern edge near the woods wasn¡¯t dangerous. There were hardly ever Fissures, and what monsters remained kept to themselves. Until that day. This horde was organized and strong, and they caught us off guard. They overwhelmed our guardsmen and the wall.¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t bad enough, however. There have been monsters that have intelligence, even high intelligence. But this horde had a man with them.¡± She tapped a finger against the wanted poster. ¡°Valentine set fire to many of the buildings and slaughtered people who tried to put out the fires and stop the monsters. My aunt was one of them. I lost her, and I lost a lot of friends and a lot of good people. Half the town was consumed before it began to storm, which helped us put the fires out. Our hunters were able to repel the monsters, and for some reason, Valentine made a quick and panicked exit. That damn coward.¡±

    Her fist suddenly crumpled the paper in her grip, her face twisted in an angry grimace. ¡°He hasn¡¯t been seen since, but he¡¯s highly dangerous.¡±

    I was amazed I hadn¡¯t heard of this, but it wasn¡¯t like we got every bit of news from every part of the Badlands in Parroia. Still, it was shocking.

    ¡°Do you think he had a [Legendary] level [Tamer] card? If he was controlling a whole horde of monsters, that has to be the only way.¡±

    Nell released her hold on the wanted poster and released her anger as well. ¡°I don¡¯t know. And I don¡¯t care. I vowed to find Valentine and make him pay for what he did. He could have a whole Fissure¡¯s worth of monsters with him, and I¡¯m still going to find him. And not just for revenge. Not just for answers as to why he did it, but also because he can¡¯t be left to do this to another town. If he did it to us, he can do it to anyone, and I can¡¯t allow that.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what to say. Should I offer comfort, condolences? I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d like that, but I also hadn¡¯t a clue what I might be able to offer. So, we sat in silence for a time, me feeling bad and her stewing in her memories and anger as the song ended, and a new one began.

    It was right then that a tall, sun-scorched man with a wide mustache came in. He had a tall cattle hat on his head and a great sword strapped to his back. There was a metal shield pinned to his red leather vest.

    That had to be the sheriff. His shirt was covered in dust, and his face drenched in a fine coat of sweat. He took his hat off and put it on the table in front of us.

    ¡°Miss Newton, you are a peach.¡±

    She smiled, her anger gone. ¡°I appreciate the compliment.¡±

    ¡°The bandits were all accounted for. I left my posse to oversee their return here. You did good work. Not sure how you managed it.¡±

    ¡°Well, I had help from my friend here,¡± she said, indicating me. I tipped my hat to the sheriff.

    The sheriff nodded, his whiskers wriggling. ¡°Much obliged to you then, friend. I suppose you two will be splitting the bounty?¡±

    Nell nodded. ¡°We worked out the percentages already between us.¡±

    ¡°Not my business, but it¡¯s well earned. Here.¡± He produced a thick cloth coin purse from his back pocket. It hit the table with a satisfying and heavy clink.

    Nell snatched it up and peered inside without any restraint, her eyes flitting and her lips moving in silent counting as she made sure that the full amount was there. Some people might feel insulted if their honor was questioned like that, but this was the Badlands, home of liars, cheats, and con men. You could never be too careful. To his credit, the sheriff didn¡¯t seem at all offended.

    ¡°There¡¯s a little more than I expected in here,¡± Nell said, surprised.

    ¡°Aye, I decided to give you a little extra for that Needleback. One of my senior deputies has a Tier 2 [Uncommon] [Tamer] card, and we use his monsters to help us with town defenses and in dealing with outlaws. His last sand troll got killed, so he needed a replacement. That Needleback will do nicely.¡±

    Nell looked at me and then back to the sheriff, her smile genuine. ¡°You¡¯re quite welcome.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take my leave then,¡± said the sheriff. He picked up his hat and put it back on. ¡°Always a pleasure, Miss Newton. Until next time. And thanks to you as well, young man.¡±

    The sheriff smiled at us and began to go. He raised a hand in farewell to the bartender and to the singer, both of whom raised their drinks to him. And then he was gone, his boots clinking on the floorboards as he threw the doors open, sunlight flooding in for a moment.

    Nell poured the contents of the bag onto the table. Six gold coins. She explained that the original bounty was five gold, but the sheriff gave them one gold extra. So, to make it even and easy, she gave me two gold, or a little over 30 percent of the take. It was better than the quarter percent I was expecting, so I took my cut gladly. Combining that with what I had already from home and what I was able to loot off the bandits, I was sitting pretty with money.

    ¡°Okay, we should head out too,¡± she said as she stood. ¡°If we make good time, we can camp out tonight, and then by tomorrow evening, we¡¯ll be in Cactus Head. After that, it¡¯s only a couple days to Mushyon Ridge.¡±

    She gathered up her bags. I did the same, but I had something to say first. ¡°Wait.¡±

    Her brows lifted. ¡°What?¡±

    I gulped. ¡°I, uh . . . I¡¯m sorry about Azalea. About what happened.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to offer sympathies, Griff. You know I hate pity.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know. And I¡¯m not. I¡¯m . . . I¡¯m saying that I want to help you. I want to help you find this Valentine and bring him to justice. He deserves to be brought to justice.¡±

    Nell softened, releasing a breath. ¡°I appreciate it, Griff. But what about your brother?¡±

    ¡°I can search for him too. Besides, who knows if there are even any clues about him in Mushyon Ridge? I might be trailing a ghost. At least with you, I¡¯d know I¡¯m doing some good.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate the offer, but I can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Come on, Nell. You¡¯re one woman. A damn fine and strong woman, but you¡¯re only one person. You need help. I know I ain¡¯t much to sniff at now, but I¡¯ll get stronger. Together, we can take on bigger bounties and stronger monsters, and I can get more cards, which will make me stronger. We can find him.¡±

    She looked at me for a long time. It was an intense stare, one I wasn¡¯t used to, but it wasn¡¯t the glare that always scared me. She was thinking it through. Her shoulders sagged. She shrugged on her pack and made for the door.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just get to Mushyon Ridge first, okay? We can decide what we want to do then.¡±

    Well, it wasn¡¯t an outright no, so I¡¯d take it. I knew better than to argue with Nell when it was something serious like this. And thus, the adventure continued, and I had two bounties that I needed to find. Two bastards that had some explaining to do.

    One would have to answer to Nell, and one would have to answer to me, and I did not pity the fool that thought Nell was the safer option.

 Chapter 19

    My second night sleeping on the road was much better than the first. To start, we took shifts keeping watch. Even though we pulled off and found a small gully enclosed by boulders that hid us from the road, Nell said it was always smart to have someone keep watch if you were in a group. If you were alone, then you had to be extra careful or try to travel to a town to stay the night.

    Nell had been doing this for a year, so I trusted her judgment. That night, we ate some decent food and told some stories. She regaled me with some of her best bounties, and I, of course, told her all about the Parroia escapades she had missed out on, though they seemed extremely tame compared to her adventures.

    I took first watch. I probably needed the sleep more, since it had been a very long day and it was my first day on the road, but I was too excited. We switched out after a few hours. And I¡¯m proud to say I only nodded off once¡ªbriefly¡ªbefore she relieved me..

    When Nell woke me in the morning just after dawn, I was pleased to see that all of my belongings were still with me. Shoes and hat? Secured. My bludgel? Still within easy grabbable distance.

    It was officially my first truly successful night on the road, and I planned for many, many more. Hopefully with none of the previous morning¡¯s nonsense.

    We traveled along the western road toward Cactus Head. True to its name, there were large clusters of cacti sprouting up all along the countryside. We¡¯d transitioned from the dry, grassy plains and sparkly forested area around Parroia to this arid expanse. The Cardinal Plateau could still be seen off to our right to the north, though for now, it was quite distant.

    The cacti ranged in size from small plants to huge, towering things the size of trees and every size in between. They crowded around us for long stretches, effectively fencing in the road. I wondered if that was a natural thing or if travelers had planted them to make the way here seem more obvious. It was clearly a road now, but I was sure when people first traveled here, they had little more than dirt paths.

    I was enjoying the scenery and enjoying the company. We didn¡¯t talk all too much. I guess we were both still thinking about Valentine and what Nell had gone through. But we cracked some jokes, made passing observations, and we both hummed and whistled intermittently.

    So, our travel was not unpleasant, but with the sun bearing down on us and the long walk, my legs and feet hurt! And I was exhausted already, and it wasn¡¯t even lunch yet.

    ¡°Do you always walk everywhere?¡± I asked her.

    Nell shook her head. ¡°Nah. It depends on where I¡¯m going. If I need to get somewhere far away, I¡¯ll take a train as far as I can. Or I¡¯ll take a carriage. I used to have a camel, but she¡ªpoor thing¡ªshe got taken by a Barrowtrap. I was lucky I wasn¡¯t swallowed whole with her.¡±

    ¡°Wow, that sounds awful and horrifying.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I was still new to the bounty hunter game at that time. Only a couple of months removed from what happened at Azalea, and I think I was still in shock. Unfortunately, horses, camels, and the like cost money, and you have to maintain them, both with food and water and also with love. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m ready for that sort of investment.¡±

    I nodded. I¡¯d never had a horse or any sort of pet before, so I didn¡¯t know much about the bond one could have with them. I had worked in the stables outside of Parroia for a time after Deebo passed just to make ends meet though. The horses, camels, and bison liked me well enough, and I enjoyed it, but I didn¡¯t bond with any of them too much before I went to a new job.

    But a Barrowtrap? That was gruesome. They were basically large subterranean Venus flytraps. Their large teeth weren¡¯t easy to spot because they blended in with the Badlands landscape and often looked like sharp rocks or sun cypress knees. They came out of the Fissures a long time ago, but I had no clue how they had done it since they weren¡¯t mobile as far as I knew. They were considered plant monsters, so it was possible that some monster from beyond the Fissures had Barrowtrap seeds on them, and that¡¯s how they came to our world. One thing I knew: I didn¡¯t want to fall into one. It was a slow and painful death as the Barrowtrap digested you.

    Maybe once I was in Mushyon Ridge, and if I had enough money, I could get a horse. I didn¡¯t want to have to walk everywhere. I should have the money . . . and I was sure to not fall into a Barrowtrap. I was older and smarter than Nell had been at the time.

    We walked along for a time in silence. My feet hurt, but I fell into a nice rhythm and put the pain and discomfort from my mind. I hummed, watched the sky, watched the vultures circle in the distance. Even further, a train whistle blared. It sounded southwestern, so maybe near Mushyon Ridge, maybe a bit closer. The trains didn¡¯t follow this road all the time and didn¡¯t stop at all the small towns. The tracks often hugged the Hather¡¯s and crossed it, too, going south and then back north and doing a dance around the north side of the river.

    I was too in my head and almost ran into Nell, who had slowed to a stop. Nell held up her hand for me to halt. I did so and was about to ask about it, but she shushed me as she tilted her head to listen. I did the same, now curious. My body tensed, as I was expecting a fight of some kind. I wasn¡¯t really in the mood for one, but there was always danger around the corner in the Badlands. Even if you¡¯re on a well-trafficked dirt road next to a large expanse of corn.

    Huh, I hadn¡¯t noticed it until just then, but rolling southward was an uneven field of corn, their stalks tall and strong. Well, some were. More weren¡¯t. A lot slumped, wilted and dying. Breaking up the expanse were more clusters of cacti, so I was able to see into the maze a bit. The leaves and stalks were unkempt and messy, not the same healthy green that farm corn usually was, so I wondered if this was a wild crop. Though, so close to a road, it would make more sense if someone had planted them and claimed this field. Who knew?

    Nell kept listening, and I did the same. I didn¡¯t hear anything at first beyond the low constant whistle of the wind and the cawing of crows. But then, I heard it. A distant cry for help. It sounded far, but close enough that they had to be in the corn or right on the other side.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    She didn¡¯t even hesitate. Nell took off, vaulting over the low wall of cacti to her left and leaving the road at a run, heading straight for the corn.

    I followed after her, letting her lead the way through the stalks with her scythe at the ready. The large blade of the weapon was much more adept at clearing the way. I was sure the farmer who owned this land wouldn¡¯t be pleased, but helping someone out of danger took precedent over the feelings of a farmer. Assuming there was a farmer . . . or assuming the person calling for help wasn¡¯t the farmer themselves.

    We passed rows and rows of cornstalks, none of them looking very appetizing or healthy. It was about to be harvest season, and these should have looked straight, bright green, and vibrant. But that could only be said to describe a few stalks of corn. A few sections at a time. The vast majority were brown and slumped, and their cobs of corn were sickly pale and covered in black spots. I shivered. I knew eating any of it would not be a good idea.

    Nell pushed through, getting closer to the cries. As we did, it became clear that it belonged to a man. The voice was slurred, low, and worried. Perhaps a bit drunk. Nothing out of the ordinary.

    The droning hiss that followed the latest cries was not normal, however. A long cry with a constant series of chittering and clicks.

    Nell stopped, and I slammed into her. She stood her ground, barely noticing me. She didn¡¯t even take the opportunity to give me a reprimand.

    No, instead, her brows pinched tight in concentration and consternation. She knew that sound; that much was obvious. I was sure it belonged to a monster of some kind. I knew a bit about monsters myself, as Deebo had a basic monster bestiary, but it wasn¡¯t a very extensive one, and I was sure I didn¡¯t have the same working knowledge that an expert hunter might have.

    Nell gulped. ¡°That¡¯s a Cactimite swarm. I¡¯d know that hissing drone anywhere. We have to hurry. Whoever it¡¯s hunting won¡¯t last long.¡±

    She didn¡¯t have to tell me twice. Nell took off again, and we redoubled our efforts to get there first, or at least, keep the swarm from causing too much pain to our their as-of-yet unknown target.

    I¡¯d never seen a live Cactimite, but I¡¯d seen dead ones at the market, and I¡¯d read about them. They were pests, small monsters about the size of a pumpkin at their biggest. They resembled round cacti, with pale green-and-brown skins and prickly spines barbed on the end so if they stuck you with the spines, it would be hell to get them out. They were like bees or wasps and lived in hives underground, usually under cacti clusters for obvious reasons.

    Their insides did taste good and were used to make broth and alcohol. But they were very dangerous in large swarming numbers.

    We ran harder. The cries grew louder, more confused, and slurred. The stalks slapped against my face, the leaves both tough and wispy. I eventually got a cob to the face, smacking me in the mouth, and got a mouthful of that blackness that covered a lot of the stalks. It was fuzzy and tasted awful. I spat it out immediately.

    Yeah, this is bad corn!

    The droning became too loud to ignore, too clear to not guess what it was. Nell ran with a frantic energy, unusual for her, but I supposed she really wanted to save the man being attacked. When we¡¯d fought the bandits, we had the element of surprise, and we were fighting bad men who were not an immediate threat or danger to anyone nearby. But this was different. Someone was in danger, and if we didn¡¯t act, they could die. So, I understood her urgency.

    I was glad she had it still. Back when she lived in Parroia, she¡¯d always been something of a protector to some of the other kids. If she caught you picking on another kid, bullying, attacking, or what have you, she¡¯d come at you with a righteous fury.

    Honestly, given that, I was surprised she was a bounty hunter and not a sheriff or deputy. I supposed this was the only way she could go and find Valentine. Lawmen had to stay in their towns for the most part. They didn¡¯t have the freedom to roam the Badlands in search of their quarries like she could. Plus, hunters of men and monsters needed to be able to move around.

    I wondered if she would have become a lawman had Azalea not been attacked. If she had, would she have ever come back? Would I have ever seen her again?

    A sharp whine of pain pierced the air. Definitely didn¡¯t belong to the man, as it was high-pitched and nonhuman. We were almost there.

    I ran for all I was worth, ignoring the stalks of corn that slapped at me and the cacti needles that sliced my legs.

    Nell launched herself between two thick cacti and then wound up her scythe and sliced down a wall of corn. And we came upon the scene.

    She was right about the Cactimites. There were probably a dozen of them, maybe a few more. They chittered and swarmed around a scarecrow that sat in the middle of the clearing. And it was a clearing, a wide-open expanse of dead grass, bone-dry dirt, and dead stalks of corn that lay scattered about in black-and-brown heaps. Could the Cactimites have been the cause of it? They probably had a nest beneath the fields, and it was possible they were messing with the corn¡¯s nutrients.

    <blockquote>

    Monster Detected: Cactimite

    Cactimites are annoying little insectoid monsters that burrow in the ground below cacti and lay in wait pretending to be cacti to ensnare unsuspecting animals and humans. They have a hive mind, often living in swarms of a dozen or more, but that doesn¡¯t make them smart. They hunt with a singular purpose of stripping flesh and meat from their prey. They can¡¯t jump, but they are quick and nimble otherwise. Long sweeping weapons are recommended.

    </blockquote>

    The bestiary my uncle owned was filled with fine detailed sketches of a lot of monsters. The book gave cross sections of some and relevant angles of others. For the Cactimites, I remembered that they had small leechlike mouths on the bottoms of their bodies, surrounded by their little legs. They¡¯d strip you of your skin first, then burrow into your muscles. I didn¡¯t want to feel that. It probably wasn¡¯t fun, I reckoned.

    I searched frantically for our victim. It wasn''t hard to find him, truth be told, though he was doing his best to blend in. A man clung to the scarecrow, and somehow, the scarecrow looked better dressed than him, wearing a messy straw hat, a blue shirt, vest, and brown trousers over its straw-and-burlap body.

    The victim, on the other hand, wore a ratty black cloak that hugged his body loosely like a poncho. It was full of holes, rips, and some stains, and it was hard to tell if they were old or new due to the Cactimites. His hood shadowed his face, but I could tell that he had a bandana over his mouth and nose. The black-and-gray cloth had some design that I couldn¡¯t discern.

    He had only one hand on the scarecrow, and he clung to it like he was twirling with a dance partner. He spun around the thing, somehow maintaining his hold and balance. In his non-occupied hand, he held a bottle, and I saw more empty ones littering the ground beneath the tiny legs of the monsters. Along with the bottles, a fine double-bladed axe lay nearby shining in the sunlight. Of course, it was out of reach of the man and thus useless.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± Nell asked, confused by what we were seeing.

    The man didn¡¯t look like he was wounded or even in danger. The Cactimites were small, and even the biggest one, which was about the size of a very large pumpkin, only rose to midway up the scarecrow¡¯s pole, and the victim was higher still. Cactimites couldn''t jump. They could dig and kill but not jump.

    I didn¡¯t know what the man did to get himself into this mess, but I knew we wouldn¡¯t ignore him, even if we were confused on the hows and whys of this predicament.

    As he twirled, the man spotted us and waved his bottle over his head. ¡°Hello, friends,¡± he called, the fear gone from his voice, which now sounded friendly. Somehow, the Cactimites must have sensed our approach, which I supposed wasn¡¯t very stealthy, because a few of them broke off from their swarm and started to scuttle our way.

    Nell and I shared a look. We brandished our long weapons, fortuitously perfect for this fight, and we flung ourselves into the fray.