Bo scrambled back toward the perimeter of his hex, but already knew he’d never cross the distance before the grunge elves turned him into a meaty pincushion. In his haste to take down the escaping grunge elf, he’d burst through the mystical barrier and plowed almost a hundred feet into enemy territory.

When the grunge elf arrows streaked through the air, the distance back to safety might as well have been a hundred miles.

Well, this is an unfortunate turn of events.

Bo couldn’t agree more. He threw himself to one side at the last possible second, but the elves had bracketed his position with their storm of arrows. There was nowhere for Bo to run, and a dozen arrows tipped with obsidian heads found their mark in his flesh.

“Bo!” Jenny cried, and fired another arrow into the crowd of grunge elves. Her shot nailed one elf in the chest, but snapped harmlessly against the warrior’s armor.

The pitmaster’s supernaturally tough skin did the same for the first half-dozen arrows that slammed into him. The next three missiles caused only cuts and bruises, but the final trio punched through the pitmaster’s defenses and skewered him through his left thigh, right shoulder, and belly.

“Get up!” Jenny shouted. “They’ll take you prisoner. Get up.”

The scout punctuated her urgent pleas with a steady stream of arrows. Most of her shots cracked to pieces against the armor of the approaching elves, but a few slipped through their defenses to draw blood.

Bo was proud of his friend, but knew she was spitting into a forest fire of danger. There were too many grunge elves for her to kill.

“Go,” Bo growled at her. “Get back to the camp and let them know what happened. Lydia will know what to do.”

“Get up,” Jenny pleaded.

“I can’t,” Bo said quietly, the reality of his situation settling in on him. There might be time to heal himself, but by the time he’d activated the cards and devoured the Meat, the elves would be on top of him. “My leg’s all jacked up, and they hit me in the guts. Get out of here, or they’ll kill us both.”

The grunge elves were not charging Bo’s position. They approached at a methodical pace. Those in the front of their band held spears in one hand and shields in the other. The rectangular defenses were slightly curved, and their edges interlocked to form an impenetrable wall they could stab over. Though the weapons and armor were heavily ornamented with embossed demons and other horrifying creatures, they were still very functional and deadly. The elves would reach Bo in a minute, and then it was all over except for the stabbing.

“I won’t leave you,” Jenny insisted as she slung her bow over one shoulder. Before Bo could stop her, the scout lunged across the perimeter and staggered toward him. The sickened look on her face told the pitmaster that his friend had just about tossed her cookies as the Weakness effect drained her strength.

She didn’t stop, though. One foot in front of the other, she stumble-jogged to Bo’s side. Her small hands hooked under his armpits, and she grunted with the effort of dragging him back across the ground.

Or trying to drag him.

“You need to eat less or work out more,” she joked, her breath wheezing. “Shit, Bo. I can’t move you a damned inch.”

“That’s why I told you to run,” Bo said with a grim chuckle. “You should take my deck and get the hell out of here.”

Jenny looked down at Bo with wide, wet eyes. Her lips pursed into a straight line, and Bo knew she was holding back scalding hot tears. He hated that their reunion had been so brief. But he hated the pain it caused Jenny even more.

“I won’t,” she said. “Get up, Bo. Get up and walk back to our hex, or I swear to whatever gods will listen that I will stand right here next to you. They’ll have to kill us both.”

Oh. She should not have sworn like that.

As if in response to Jenny’s words, cold lightning flashed across the night sky. For a moment, Bo thought he saw eyes up there among the stars. Maybe there were gods who watched what was happening on that darkling plain with great interest. But the pitmaster knew they’d never stoop to helping a mere mortal, even if they were up there.

Because those same gods had watched his mother die, and that woman had not deserved a lick of the pain she’d suffered.

Bo realized he could not let Jenny die like that. Not while he was still breathing.

“This is gonna suck,” Bo said. “Promise me if I get up, you’ll run if I can’t get out of here.”

“Bo,” she started.

“Promise,” he demanded.

Jenny looked at the elves. They were less than fifty feet away. Then she looked back at Bo and nodded.

“Great,” he said. “Grab the arrow in my arm and rip it out.”

“Uh,” Jenny said.

“Do it,” Bo said. “It’s the only way. One, two, three…”

He howled in pain as Jenny ripped the arrow out of his torso. The brutal fiery sensation was amplified by the spears of agony from the other arrows, which he’d torn out of his body at the same time. Blood poured out of him, and Bo knew he didn’t have long before his heart was pumping dust.

With gritted teeth, the pitmaster activated Hungry Hungry Devil. Seconds later, the brutal punctures had sort of healed. Enough for him to get back on his feet, at least.

Seeing their prey miraculously rise from the ground gave the grunge elves some very ugly ideas about what to do next. They charged, roaring in unison. It sounded almost as vicious and feral as the devouring devils had just before Bo blew them back to hell. But there was something darker in the grunge elves’ tone. There was more than animal lust for destruction. They wanted to inflict pain and terror.

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Which they will unless you run. Right now.

It took all of Bo’s willpower to force his aching body to move, but he got it in gear. Pain was one thing, but the threat of torture and a lingering death was quite another. Those twin horrors lent wings to Bo’s feet, and he and Jenny raced back toward the perimeter. With every step, Bo’s shoulders tensed in anticipation of an arrow dropping out of the sky and sticking in his back. Worse than that, he feared the same would happen to Jenny. This far from home, he didn’t think she’d survive a serious wound.

They were twenty feet from the perimeter when Bo felt pain shoot through his left calf, and that leg suddenly stopped taking commands from his brain. He fell to one knee, and Jenny’s attempt to catch him nearly landed her in the dirt, too.

“Run,” Bo rasped at her. “You promised.”

“They’ll kill you,” she pleaded.

“Maybe. But I’ll kill a lot of them in the bargain,” Bo said. “Go!”

Jenny hesitated, but only for a moment. She’d made a promise and would keep it. But the fire in her eyes made it clear she hated herself for it. “If you die, I’m coming to Hell to get you.”

“I’ve been a good boy. I’m going to Heaven,” Bo corrected her.

“Smart ass,” Jenny said, and took off like a shot.

“Hey,” Bo called after her. “I love you.”

He didn’t know if she’d heard him, and doubted he’d ever find out. It didn’t matter, though. Saying it was the important thing.

You think you can kill them all? Barbie asked.

“Not a fucking chance,” Bo said. “But I’ll try.”

He watched the elves’ cautious approach, carefully picking a pair of cards to use. He couldn’t do that during combat, but he’d have one turn to do something and had to make it good.

The elves must have had orders not to kill him, because the arrows had stopped falling on his location. Grim-faced soldiers marched toward him in lockstep, their spears aimed at him as they formed a living wall around the fallen pitmaster.

“Get up,” one elf barked when they were almost close enough to stab Bo.

“You think I’d be lying in the dirt if that was an option?” Bo chuckled and shook his head. “You’re dumber than you are ugly.”

“Then heal yourself, and rise,” the elves’ leader barked. “Or we will drag you back to camp by your wounded leg.”

Bo gave his enemies an appraising glance. “I doubt three of you weigh half as much as me. You’re all weedy as friggin’ dandelion stalks. Might as well kill me here. You’ll never drag my fat ass back to your camp.”

The elven leader conferred quietly with a few of his fellows. Bo watched for any opening. He needed several of them to get within arm’s reach. He just wasn’t sure how to do that.

Keep insulting them. They’ll stab you, and you can grab their spears and drag them closer.

That was not a brilliant plan, but Bo wasn’t sure he’d have another choice. He waited, feigning indifference while constantly watching for any chance to put his plan into action. After what felt like an eternity, the elves had a plan of action.

A pair of them approached Bo with ropes, while five more pushed the tips of their spears into Bo’s chest.

“Gonna be hard to tie me up while I’m flat on the ground,” Bo said.

“Stand up,” the elven leader said. “Slowly.”

“Not to be a dick, but I explained that I can’t do that,” Bo said. “On account of you assholes shooting me in the leg. You want me on my feet, do it yourself.”

Irritated and out of patience, the elven commander snapped an order at his men. “Grab him. Three of you on each of his arms, three on his legs. Keep the spears aimed at him and get this dog on his feet.”

This will be such a mess.

The grunge elves grabbed Bo as their leader commanded. It was a clumsy maneuver, with several false starts before they sorted out exactly who would do the grabbing and who would handle the spears. Finally, exasperated, the leader lunged forward and grabbed Bo’s apron in one fist.

“Get him up!” the leader commanded.

Elves swarmed Bo. Way more than twelve got involved, but they did get him dragged up to his feet.

“Hey,” Bo said, his face mere inches from the elven leaders’. “Did anybody ever tell you how pretty your eyes are?”

The leader glared at Bo, confused. “No.”

“Probably because they’re not,” Bo taunted the elf.

Then the pitmaster lashed out with a savage kick from his good leg and let himself fall forward into the elven leader. Bo thrashed his head from side to side, the tips of his horns slicing the air like a pair of blades.

Elves shouted and grabbed tighter to the pitmaster.

Who activated Juiceboxer and Hackstorm in quick succession.

Without a weapon in hand, the pitmaster relied on brute strength, hooves, and horns. The bloodmarks flashed out in every direction as Bo did his level best to hurt every elf who’d dared laid hands on him. Punches shattered noses. His fingers fishooked into mouths and tore cheeks open back to the jawbone. Horns ripped eyes out of sockets and opened throats.

Bo had no idea how many elves he’d marked, and the eruption of Hackstorm made it hard to see. Because the instant that card went off, the air around Bo was transformed into a hurricane of blood, meat, and splintered bone. It was as if some cruel god had tossed the elves into a blender with no lid and punched the puree button.

Shouts of pain and horror rang out all around Bo. But the pitmaster didn’t hesitate to see how many of the elves were dead and how many were still alive. Healing energy flooded into him from the bloodmarks, eradicating the wounds he’d suffered. For a moment, there was a silence that was broken only by the sound of blood dripping from the blades of tall grass.

Then the whimpering and wailing began.

Bo cleared the blood from his eyes with the back of one hand. There was still a chance to salvage this mess, but he had to move quick. His eyes skimmed over the carnage until they settled on what he needed.

A wounded grunge elf lay on her back, one hand clutching a fist-sized hole in her abdomen and the other splayed out at her side. Pain had pinched the elf’s eyes shut, and her injuries were severe enough that Bo doubted she’d put up much of a fight.

Perfect.

“You’re coming with me,” Bo said, and hoisted the elf over his shoulders.

Then he turned and ran back toward his hex as fast as his hooves would carry him. The other elves would get over their shock any second now, and he wanted to be safely away from the bloody blast zone when that happened.

The pitmaster ran as if the fires of Hell were on his heels. He ignored the grunge elf’s grunting and groaning every time his hoofs crashed down. She’d been more than willing to kill him, so she’d earned her pain and suffering. The big man picked up speed, his spirits lifting as the blue wall ahead of him drew closer. In a few seconds, he’d be back in his territory. After the spanking he’d just given the elves on their home turf, he doubted they’d dare cross the border and risk yet another beat-down. Even if they did, Jenny could use her special scout powers to let them outrun the bad guys.

Bo was one stride away from the blue barrier when something hit him in the back. The unexpected blow caused him to stumble. That shifted the elf on his shoulders, which unbalanced him further. With a frustrated growl, the pitmaster struggled to stay on his hooves. He managed, but only barely, and ended up dropping his prisoner not long after he’d crossed into the Red River Hex.

She cried out when she hit the ground, and Bo whirled around to grab her again. He saw what had hit him when he dropped to one knee to gather the prisoner.

An obsidian arrow hid glinted from the hollow of her throat, and dark blood pooled around it. Bo was no healer, but he didn’t have to be to know she was a goner. He’d get no information from her.

When Bo raised his eyes to glower at the grunge elves on the perimeter’s far side, he saw their leader with a raised bow. The elf’s face was a mass of wounds, and he had fired from an ungainly kneeling position because his wounded legs couldn’t hold him up. But the commander’s remaining eye flared with hateful life as he returned Bo’s glare.

A dark shadow passed over the pitmaster’s heart. The elf commander had killed one of his own soldiers to keep her from talking. The level of practical cruelty that required was beyond Bo. He could never imagine slaughtering one of his people to save a tactical advantage.

Bo had to wonder what that meant for the coming battle. Could he be cruel enough to beat pure evil?

He didn’t know.

“Come on,” Jenny said. “Let’s get out of here before they gather their balls and come over for a fight. I don’t think they’ll fall for that stunt again.”