We finished gathering our supplies for the journey ahead and decided to call it an early night so we could set out first thing in the morning. I didn’t sleep much that night, and I was worried about Duncan. I still didn’t know the cause of the scars, but I was sure whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Before I knew it, the light poked into the cave, and Duncan was awake and packing things up.

“Wake up, Brodie. We need to get a move on.”

“Five more minutes,” I mumbled and rolled over, closing my eyes.

“Yeah, five more minutes.” I could hear Tee protesting from behind me.

“Come on, you two, we don’t have time to waste around; get up, and let's get a move on.”

Five minutes later, I was up and packing the camp. We made sure to destroy any evidence of our stay here. While we hadn’t seen or heard any of the hag patrols in days, there was no point in taking a chance of them finding us by leaving an abandoned camp behind. As we packed, I found my eyes constantly drawn to the scars on Duncan's arm. I needed to know what was happening with them, but this wasn’t the right time to ask.

The forest around us started to thin as we walked north towards the mountains. The trees grew less and less and were replaced by rolling grasslands. The grass was slimy like seaweed, and the ground still squelched as we walked, but the change of scenery was lovely. The trees eventually became distant memories, and we strolled through rolling grass hills. This place really was beautiful when every inhabitant wasn’t trying to murder me.

The first day of our journey was completely uneventful and a welcome break, if I’m being honest. Duncan and I didn’t talk much. He was so focused on getting to our destination, and I was so afraid of bringing up his scars. Tee flew beside me, humming tunes as we walked. As the sun descended below the horizon, Duncan stopped us in a small valley between two hills.

“We camp here for the night.” He said.

“Isn’t this place a little exposed to be setting up a camp?” I asked.

“It is, but we are in the grasslands now, and no matter where we camp, it's going to be exposed. That means no fire tonight.”

“Great, so no hot food.” Tee chimed in

“No, no hot food tonight,” Duncan replied.

“Ok,” I said, not too happy about the idea of a dinner of raw roots and vegetables.

We sat close together as we ate our pathetic dinner, and the sun left the sky for the evening. I looked up at the moon and realized this was the first time I had had a chance to actually look at it. It was much smaller than the moon on Earth and radiated a faint green light. Bioluminescent algae began to shine across the grasslands as the moon rose higher into the sky. We laid out sleeping bags and settled in for the night.

The next morning, we were all up as soon as the sun came over the hills. We packed our sleeping bags and had a breakfast of more raw roots and vegetables. As pretty as the world could be, the food sure did suck sometimes. Duncan had every intention of making it to the Shartar village today, which meant we had to move faster than the day before. The hills began to get steeper and rockier as we continued on our way. The rocks were made of a denser coral than that of the trees and were much less colorful. This area of the world looked almost bleak compared to the vibrant colors of the forests I had spent my time in so far.

The grass was almost completely gone, and the squishy ground had been replaced with rock crags when I heard the noises coming from a nearby rock formation. Having heard the noise, Duncan raised his hand to signal us to stop. I didn’t know what was making the noise, but judging by the concerned look on Duncan's face, he did. As he reached for his knives, I pulled my club off my back, and Tee produced his pipes; whatever it was, it looked like we were in for a fight.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Four men emerged from behind the rocks. They looked like Barbarians that you would find in some fantasy role-playing game with one big exception: They were half crab. While each looked different, they were all made up of a grotesque combination of humans and crustaceans. The two that didn’t have claws, but rather human hands held rusty swords.

“Clismin warriors, we must have accidentally wandered into their territory,” Duncan said, gripping his blades.

I didn’t know what a Clismin was or where their territory was; all I knew was this was just another on the long list of creatures that wanted to kill me in this place. The Clismin clicked and hissed as they advanced towards us, swords in hand. I readied a golf ball in my left hand as Tee played a melody with his pipe. As the music washed over me, I felt my body becoming invigorated. I don’t know how to explain it, but I felt as if all of my senses suddenly got sharper. I could hear the swallow breathing of the warriors and see the hairs on their arms. Duncan gave Tee a glance of confusion, and then I remembered that he didn’t know what Tee had given up for me.

Duncan ducked to the left of our attackers and faded away until he was nothing more than a shimmering silhouette. I let the first golf ball fly, a small fireball. It was enough to do some damage to its target but not enough to drain me completely. The ball struck the claw of one of the Clismin, and he reeled back from the attack. I couldn’t tell if I had hurt him or not.

The ghost-like figure that was Duncan emerged from behind one of the crab people, driving his knives deep into his target's shoulders. Wailing in pain, the Clismin swung his left arm back, connecting with Duncan's jaw. Thanks to whatever spell Tee had cast on me, I could hear the bones crunch as the blow made impact. Black ichor oozed from the man’s shoulders where Duncan’s blades had pierced him. Duncan shook his head in an attempt to regain himself as the warrior turned to face him.

Noticing the blow to Duncan’s face, Tee quickly changed the song he was playing. I felt my senses return to normal as the music changed. I sent another fireball hurling toward the barbarian I had hit with the first one; this time, I aimed for the head. I watched as the ball smashed into his forehead. Blood and gore sprayed across the ground as bones cracked and shattered from the force of the impact. A small fire erupted from the man’s face as his lifeless corpse fell to the ground.

The music from Tee's pipes rang through the air, and I watched as Duncan's jaw moved back to the proper position on his face. Duncan ducked and spun to his left, digging both daggers deep into the legs of the Clismin that had attacked him. Blood and Ichor sprayed for the cuts as the Barbarian released a wail of pain and fell to the ground. His breathing became raspy as the blood loss overtook him, and he fell to the ground, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

While Duncan was dealing with his assailant, the third warrior turned his attention towards me. The realization that I was no good in hand-to-hand combat came too late as I attempted to dodge the sword. The blade cut into my side. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it was enough to draw blood and knock me off balance. I fell back to the ground, staring at the hulking figure towering over me. In a last-ditch effort to not die, I thrust my club upwards.

The head of the golf club changed as I thrust. The blunt end changed into a sharp protrusion glowing red with heat as it connected with its target. The now-pointed end of my club pierced the chest of the Clismin warrior, melting away flesh and armor. Screams of torture echoed through the landscape as I continued to press the club deep into his chest. Hearing the agony in his voice, I almost felt bad for my victim. Then I remembered he was yet another on an ever-growing list of people who wanted me dead.

The last of the barbarians turned and fled, realizing he was outnumbered, and his comrades lay dead around him. I slowly pushed myself to my feet as he ran back into the rocky crags he had emerged from. I was tired but not exhausted, and I was learning to better manage my abilities, which I felt would be essential in the upcoming battles.

“Come on, we’re not too far from the Shartar village,” Duncan said, wiping the blood and ichor from his knives.

I sheathed my club and followed. Leaving the remains of our battle behind me. The going was slow. I could tell that all three of us were exhausted from the battle. As the day wore on and we continued to walk, it became apparent that we would never make it to the village before nightfall, so we decided to set up camp. As we sat down to have yet another bland dinner of raw food, Duncan turned towards me.

“I suppose it’s time I tell you how I got these.” He said, motioning towards the scars on his body.