The scorched branches of the crow's foot tree peek out from a bed of parched white clay raised by red dunes. Our heroes climb the back of the hill, hoping the altitude will help with orientation. Last day's encounter proved one thing: There are more than tribals in these lands, and in all likelihood there are settlements. Whether such settlements are friendly or hostile, it is preferable to find out before approaching with open arms.

The princess lets out a little cry as she trips over an object buried in the sand. The swordsman retraces his steps, and crouches down next to her to check with the visor that she has no fractures. Nadjela is saddened by his clumsiness, she stands up in a hurry and says:

"I'm fine"

Wanting to change the subject, she shifts her attention to the cause of her bad step.

"What is it, Chester?"

The Lancaster is not clear either. He decides to find out by digging in the dirt with his hands. Within minutes the green, rust-crusted sign reveals its secret.

WE-COM- AUST--LIA.

The software in Chester's viewer fills in the gaps and translates the archaic language.

"Australia" says the swordsman.

Nadjela blinks rapidly and repeatedly, confused. The nobleman raises his glasses and clarifies that he is referring to the real name of that hostile land.

Australia. The word rumbles like a drum in the girl's head. She contemplates the horizon with new eyes... Eyes that every day know a little bit more of what surrounds her.

(Why didn't Papa or the venerable Zakary ever tell me? Maybe they didn't know... Or maybe they kept the information like a prurient treasure)

He shakes his head. Both options are incomprehensible to him. How would those chosen by the mother of birds ignore an essential detail like the name of the world, or choose to leave his people in the shadows of ignorance?

"Let's continue on to the weird tree" Chester says.

Nadjela raises her head and turns her face to where the man is pointing.

"I recognize its type, my people call it Árbol-pata-de-cuervo. Even though they look withered and leafless, they don't rot, the climate is too dry, and their roots grow so big that they are able to reach the underworld, where demons are born"

"I didn't know"

Nadjela feels terrible to be happy about it. She can't help it, she would hate to be less smart, or less trustworthy, or less determined, in front of the man who has been taking care of her and teaching her so much.

The princess twitches as she steps on something, but this time she avoids tripping. Believing it to be another sign, she looks down and discovers beneath her sole a smooth white hand colder than indifference. She lets out a shriek and leaps into Chester's arms, who carries her without difficulty and asks what all the fuss is about.

"There!" Nadjela points to the disconnected forearm. The layer of dust that runs along the sprawled limb now has a clear space where she just stepped on it. The piece shows nice pale skin, in harmony with clean fingernails. "A hand! And another! And an arm! And a foot!"

Nadjela's finger follows the trail of scattered pieces in that bloodless massacre. Chester gets an idea of what is happening, but Nadjela understands little, and continues to tremble in that powerful grip.

About fifteen paces ahead, lying on the trunk of the dark-barked tree, they find a new corpse (this one whole) dressed in a dusty white robe, and the head, arms, and legs, wrapped in old bandages that barely hide the trail of scabs and burns on the skin. Apparently someone was very worried about the stiff getting up to dance, and wrapped him in chains.

"This is cursed territory" says Nadjela. "I feel it in my bones"

Returning her gaze to the tree, the princess's eyes widen to the limit, and she buries her nails in Chester until she draws blood. The Lancaster growls softly. The dead man watches her back, his gaze possessed of grim intelligence, like the eyes of one who knows the other side of things.

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

"Greetings, tribal, foreigner" The chapped lips sound like the treading of dry leaves. "Welcome to Australia. We have several of the largest and hairiest creatures on the globe"

"Do you have Bigfoot?" Chester asks. Unlike Nadjela, he's calm and collected.

"Sadly no... They were eaten by the Bigtooths"

The naturalness of the conversation helps Nadjela to realize that it is not a manifestation from beyond the grave, but something much worse.

"Invisible death" whispers the princess, getting out of Chester's arms to hide behind his back. The little pig imitates her, instinctively sensing what is wrong with the bound person.

"Radiation, little one. Radiation" the man says in a corrective tone. "Imagine millions of blades smaller than a speck of dust piercing your skin and perverting your essence, and here I am"

Nadjela is silent. The man's lidless eyes wander to the swordsman.

"I've been here for a couple of days. Without my drops and my water bottle, my hours are numbered. A slow and terrible death, and extremely inefficient.... It speaks volumes about my captors. As will the actions of the kind people who find and release me"

It is evident that he hopes Chester will be that kind person. With his hand under his chin the Lancastrian considers the idea, glances sideways at Nadjela, and she shakes her head. Chester isn't sure either, but his hesitation comes from more earthly planes.

"I don't know, man. If you tell me you're radioactive, the fair thing to do would be to cut you up before you go around polluting everything. Imagine if you pee in a lake and then I unknowingly drink from that lake?"

The stranger rolls his eyes.

"Oh, nonsense. What do you think I am? Chernobyl? The radiation that torments me has been internalized for years. The only thing that suffers and bleeds are my insides, and my doctors. At the end of the day I'm just a burned man, what harm can I do?"

The man smiles a smile that makes his face even more hideous. That the teeth are so white, instead of adding to his charm, ends up highlighting the gnawed disaster that is his complexion.

Chester still hesitates. He looks around at the scattered corpse.

"What happened here?"

"Nothing memorable" The burned man shrugs his shoulders, and the skin that binds them to his neck breaks a little, dripping a greenish, foul-smelling liquid. Chester frowns, Nadjela covers her nose with her hands, and the little pig hides her snout in the dirt. The oppressed ignores the reactions. "Just the fury of an idiot man who chose to distrust me. So he murdered my work team, and destroyed before my eyes my best assistant, that one there, and there, and everywhere"

"Automata" Deduce Chester.

"Exactly. But it's nothing serious, nothing delicate. The fragile and the poor man in this story is me" adds the man who, in Chester's eyes, begins to look like an investigator, and in Nadjela's eyes like a terrible sorcerer.

"I will free you... But only because your executioners were faggots. What's this nonsense of tying someone to a tree to wait for him to die?"

Chester takes a step, and Nadjela forces him back by pulling his jacket. The Lancasterian meets the princess with a withering glance followed by a whisper of a warning.

"He... He scares me"

Chester smiles, and pats her gently on the head, asking her to trust him.

"Nobody hurt you with me here"

Nadjela's face softens. She nods very slowly, but a hint of unease still bothered her. Chester approaches the tree and takes a fleeting slash. The chains are like butter under the metal-crowned edge, and slide along the man's side until they end up on the ground.

"I am grateful" says the burned man. He gets up, and begins to walk around the tree both to stretch his legs and to put the parts of his automaton back together. "It feels good not to die. What's your name, nobleman?"

"Chester Lancaster. How do you know I'm noble?"

"The hair"

"Ah, right.

"And the exquisite skin so resistant to this merciless climate"

"Cut, men"

"I can also tell that your companion is some kind of tribal"

Nadjela frowns. In the burned man's mouth the word "tribal" seems to carry negative connotations. Chester does not notice the girl's bitter expression and continues to probe the mummy.

"I've accidentally damaged my armor and I'm looking for a mechanic to take a look at it. Do you know of any?"

"I know mechanics" he announces without fanfare, and continues picking up parts. Chester smiles, and the burned man notices, so he hastens to add. "I'm talking theory. My assistant and my work team were the ones solving the practical part, and as you can see, the first one is indisposed, and the others are either dead or as sex slaves of some warlord"

"Can't you tell me anything useful, old man?"

"I don't know if this burning wind has blown away the tracks of the caravan, but I have a good memory, and I can tell you in which direction Thunderdome is"

"Thunderdome? Sounds like metal!"

The scientist picks up the last piece in sight, a white foot, and straightens up with his face to the west.

"That's where I was fired from. Actually, there are no domes, and unless a storm comes, no thunder. But the tyrant who rules the settlement, Achú, self-styled as Deathmask, is a fan of old action movies directed with practical effects, and from one of those thousands of tapes he took the name"

"Achú? Who is that guy?"

"Being what he calls himself, I'm sure you can guess that he's a guy with an excess of traumas. But he's not the only evil in Thunderdome. His sister Shura, who rules by his side, is just as cruel, even more so"

"That's why women should be kept away from power. Government, like war, is a man's business"

The burned man rolls his eyes again, and the burning in them reminds him that it is time to cool off, so he takes a bottle of eye drops out of his robe.

"If you travel to the dome you may find people to help you, but be careful. Shura forced me to build Achu heavy armor before sending me to die" He slouches back, and lets the drops fall on his corneas. A pleasurable gasp blooms from his arid, scorched lips. "As revenge, when no one was looking, I installed a bomb that automatically activates when the attached pilot makes a smart remark..."

He remains silent, as if rethinking his actions.

"Now that I think about it with a cold head, it may never go off"