Dunes spread as far as the eye could see, a light brown shade that contrasted sharply with the cloudless blue sky above. Dry winds blew against my skin, uncomfortably hot and itching as grains of sand into my eyes and mouth. The sun above bore down, and I moved further into the cart, eager to avoid its harsh glare. My body might have grown more durable, and I might heal faster, but sunburns were still miserable.

The landscape blended together, without a single distinguishing mark to be seen. Even after stretching my magical senses as far as possible, a range measured in miles, I found nothing of note. In short, it was a dull, empty vista, without anything intriguing.

It felt...anticlimactic. After escaping, I had expected to feel something, a sense of relief or satisfaction maybe. But none of that came through, and if anything, I was more uneasy than before. At least in Ferris, I knew who was after me and where to go. Now, in a foreign land and country, all of that was gone.

As the carts rolled over the dunes, the horses began to slow their pace. Though healthy and well-fed, sand was not the sort of terrain they were used to, and the scorching heat only worsened it. Our pace slowed to a crawl, and I considered breaking from the group and making my way by myself. After some consideration and a glance at the flat expanse of land, I decided against it.

I had no way of navigating this place. My supplies would last for a few weeks at least, but I had no confidence I could find safety before then. Prin seemed to have a connection with the Tinkerers, and that meant remaining with them was my best bet for now. After all, although my primary goal remained to locate Cortos' sanctum, I could not help but want to learn more about another culture.

We knew precious little about our neighbors to the south. Centuries of hostilities meant that learning about their society took a backseat to wartime affairs. Learning to kill had proven simpler than learning to live in peace, it seemed. The few "facts" we had were likely tainted by bias or warped by the passage of time.

According to our history, several centuries after Ferris was founded, we came into conflict with a nomadic culture that occupied the continent. They appeared hostile and began a war but had underestimated the might and ferocity of our magic. After a short but brutal series of engagements, the Archmagi of the time drove them south, though they proved unable to follow far. At that time, magic beasts remained a threat, and Ferris was still unstable. It was decided the best course was to let our enemies flee into the untamed wilds and focus efforts on expanding our kingdom.

This would prove to be a mistake, one that would haunt Ferris for centuries to come. By the time our rivals reemerged, the first of their legendary cities had been founded. With it, they went from a near-nonexistent threat to the single biggest thorn in the side of our country.

I once saw an illustration of the unnamed founding city, a monstrosity of metal, glass, and stone atop a flat platform. Gargantuan cannons, as large as a house, sat at regular intervals around it, powerful enough to obliterate a mage with one blast. The entire structure stood on spider-like legs, large enough to walk right over city walls and crush buildings underfoot.

In the modern era, they floated in the air, supported by a levitation effect, but their threat remained the same. Each one was rumored to match an Archmagus in battle, and they were, in truth, closer to weapons than cities. All of that came down to their greatest weapon, the same thing that allowed them to match us.

Somehow, the Tinkerers had found a way to harness mana and combine it with a form of technology, creating wonders beyond even our best enchantments. The constructs I had fought in the tournament were crude replications of the real thing, and though their cities remained their most dangerous weapon, armies of constructs had been fielded. Lightning-fast creatures of metal, capable of tearing men limb from limb, were a threat even to mages.

If I could adapt and learn their secrets, that might prove even more valuable than Cortos' sanctum. An army of automated workers, digging vast mines, harvesting resources, and expanding a hidden fortress briefly filled my imagination.

A not-so-quiet cough broke my daydreams, and I glanced over to find Julia staring at me. She had been riding in front with her father but must have come back here, possibly to check on me.

"Where was your mind at? I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes now," she said crossly, and I smiled as I bowed my head to her.

"Sorry about that. Is there a problem, Julia?"

She did not comment on my evasive response, replying, "My grandfather wants to set up camp soon."

"So early?" I asked, leaning out of the cart and looking up the sky. It was barely midday, with hours of daylight left."

"Yeah, the heat is getting to the horses. Grandfather wants to rest for a few hours and get moving again when it's cooler."

I hesitated, debating on if it would show my hand before replying, "I have read before that some beasts prefer to hunt at night. Is that safe? To begin traveling at night, I mean. Defending a position is easier than protecting a moving caravan."

She shrugged, clearly not as concerned as me.

"I've no idea. I'd ask my grandfather or Darius if you're that concerned."

Pausing for only a moment, I nodded, pushing a flap of the tent open before jumping onto the sands. Behind me, I heard an exclamation from Julia.

Within a few steps, the realization that I had never walked on sands before hit me. It felt strange, unsteady, and shifting under my boots. Fighting, at least the way the guards did, required steady ground to brace and push against. This only drove me to walk faster, moving towards the caravan's lead, where Darius rode alongside his uncle's cart.

"Sir!" I shouted when I came within earshot, and Darius pulled back on his reins, moving back to my position.

"What is it, Lucas?" he asked, leaning down to me.

"Julia informed me that we will be making camp soon," I answered, keeping pace with him.

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"Yes. My uncle has a destination in mind, where we will be meeting his contact and wants to get closer before stopping. Late afternoon and nights here are much cooler and should prove more comfortable for travel."

"Sir, may I speak freely?"

"You've earned that right, I think. What is it?" Darius said, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"There are many nocturnal predators that might wander in these parts. Though traveling might be more comfortable, finding them in the darkness and defending a moving position will be a nightmare. Speaking honestly, I am somewhat concerned with the prospect."

In truth, if it came down to a life or death battle, I would show my magic and survive than hold back and die. But avoiding such a confrontation entirely was the better option, in my mind. Some might call it cowardly, but there was no bravery in taking risks without any reward.

"True enough, but we feel the risks outweigh the rewards," he answered, echoing my thoughts but contrasting my beliefs. I must have still appeared conflict, as he continued, "Defending our position in the morning, with daylight above us, is easier than at night. And, if our friends are to be believed, the most dangerous predators dwell far, far to the south of here. We are close enough to the border that Ferren mages kill most beasts."

I debated forcing the issue before pushing aside my concerns. If anything decided to attack us, I should sense it long before it came into range. It was a bit of a gamble, but not one I felt worth arguing over.

I lagged behind, giving him a nod as I moved, rejoining with Julia, who leaned out of the cart, glaring at me.

"You mind giving me a bit more warning before you just jump out like that?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest. I smiled but did not reply, closing my eyes and returning my attention inward. I had stopped gathering mana to keep my trail weak, and now that we were outside of Ferris, I had ground to make up.

When we set up camp, I quickly realized that sand was an absolutely miserable experience. Strangely, although I had grown used to pain, persistent discomfort was almost worse. At least pain held the promise of growth, but sand just brought along irritation. As I adjusted my blanket, sweeping off particles of the material that somehow had blown into the cart, I considered modifying my Mana Shell. Maybe a much weaker version could keep it from clinging to my skin quite as much.

We broke camp as the sun was dipping behind the horizon, and the air began to cool. Although we seemed safe, I could not help but shake the feeling of paranoia, ready for an ambush from unseen beasts. Hours passed as we trudged through the sands, guards rotating and eyes open at all times. Even with my senses at full strength, I sensed nothing but the usual ebb and flow of mana rolling through the air.

Despite everything, I still almost missed the sands shifting and the flicker of mana beneath us, a few hundred feet to the right. My sensory abilities might have grown by leaps and bounds, but the creature nearly slipped through despite that. Worse, to my mounting horror, I sensed several other presences, all surrounding us.

"We aren't alone!" I shouted, leaping down from the back of the cart and running towards the shifting sands. Spinning my weapon, I aimed down into the ground, feeling it impact something a few feet down. Twisting it, I yanked it back, leaping backward several feet as the ground rumbled.

Bursting from below, the creature appeared almost like a lizard, but larger and far more intimidating. Scales blended together, with spikes jutting from its back. Armored crests of bone covered most of its skull, with heavy, powerful legs and a tail as thick as my torso lashing. At the tip, I spotted more spines, long as a dagger and just as sharp.

From its back, a thin rivulet of blood, a strange greenish tinge even in the moonlight, ran. It's amber eyes, slitted and hate-filled, locked onto mine as it opened its gaping jaw, letting out a roar.

I heard similar sounds behind me but ignored them, charging forward. As I moved, I strained my memory to recall whatever details I might have learned before. At a glance, it looked similar to a drake, a subspecies of dragons. All of them possessed several common traits, namely incredible strength, speed, and durability. Worse, they were intelligent, capable of coordinated attacks and even rudimentary strategy.

The beast lunged forward, legs carrying it a dozen feet towards me, and I pulled up short, stabbing towards its face as it charged. The strike was fast but aimed too high and skittered off armored plates as its fangs snapped shut. Only my reflexes let me avoid losing an arm, though I felt a tug where it caught my shirt.

As I moved to one side, I struck again, aiming for its armpit where the scales tended to loosen. This time, my attack landed but sank less than a foot before coming to a halt. Cursing, I pulled it out again, stabbing a second time before jumping over its lashing tail.

Landing on the sand, I heard a scream. I turned towards the caravan, spotting Julia on the cart, her father positioned between her and the snapping jaws of a creature. Glancing towards the beast I fought, I hesitated only a moment before taking off at near-full speed towards the two traders.

The beast attacking them was too focused on the easy prey to notice me, and that gave me ample time to strike the only weak point I could remember. Dragons and their lesser relatives were all damned hard to put down, but most had a single major weakness. On the back of their necks, where spine met skull, was a small opening to let in the spinal cord. It was tiny and could only be struck with a good weapon, a strong arm, and excellent aim.

And as I landed on its back, narrowly avoiding losing a toe to its spines, I prayed to whatever war deities that might exist that I possessed all three of those traits.

Stabbing down hard, using all of my strength, the tempered blade of my sword-staff sunk deep. I felt it briefly falter, catching on the beast's rock-hard bone before cutting into softer flesh. Beneath me, the drake shuddered, its death throes tossing me onto the ground before falling still.

I saved my victory for just a moment before rolling to my feet. There were still several more, including the one that I had already angered, and lying around could wait until after.

The rest of the caravan had regrouped, but it did not take long to realize it was not going great. I spotted several falling back with wounds, one an arm short, and even as I watched, another was cut open from shoulder to hip by a tail swipe.

If this kept up, we would lose, or at the very least, be too injured to safely continue. Cursing Prin and Darius for placing us in this situation, arrogantly believing we would be safe, I reached for my mana, preparing to use my magic.

Before I could do so, a thunderous boom shook the air. One creature's head disappeared, turning into a fine spray of red and its body collapsed a second later without a brain to direct it. A moment later, another suffered the same fate, cut down as it let out a challenging roar.

When the third blast came, I turned, searching for whoever or whatever was doing this. There, floating in mid-air, were three objects that I had never seen before. They appeared like horses of some kind, but where legs should be were flat discs a foot across. Instead of a head or reins, a flat bar was attached to some sort of pivoting device.

Even their riders appeared strange, covered in metallic armor blended smoothly, without any apparent separation of plates, ending in a blank plate covering their heads. In each hand, they carried weapons that looked like crossbows, but sleeker, a single long piece of curving alloy.

Retaking aim, one pulled a trigger on their weapon, and the tip glowed a bright white before a bolt launched forward. I recognized the energy as mana, purified and compressed but still recognizable. In fact, it felt almost like a bolt of mana, though more potent than the average mage could create. The other two followed suit, and in a matter of seconds, they had killed a half-dozen of the drakes.

The rest of the pack, apparently rethinking this battle, turned, sinking back into the sands as if swimming through water. I held back a shudder, realizing they could very well still be down there, waiting for another chance to strike. But that was a concern for another day when there was not a more pressing problem.

It seemed my chance to meet the Tinkerers had come faster than I had expected.