As the riders came into view, Max crouched low and watched them pass.

  They were Brix guards for sure. Four of them. He knew it by their armor and insignias; the all-too-familiar four gold pickaxes against a sable background. All were riding horses, whose strong legs kicked up clouds of dirt as they passed. They rode at a steady pace, purposeful but not rushed. Hidden behind the green foliage, Max stayed still until the party had gone past him and out of view around the next bend in the road.

  As they disappeared from view, Max allowed himself to breathe easily again, relieved to see the wizard Aldor was not amongst their number. Who knew what kind of tricks the man had to track down fugitives? Unless the guards carried some device—which was possible, but unlikely—they'd have to physically spot Max to know where he was. So long as he was careful, he could avoid them.

  Max waited for a few minutes, motionless, just in case. However, when the riders didn’t immediately come back the other way, Max figured it was probably safe for him to continue forward—slowly. He’d just make sure to keep a little farther away from the road. The guards would have to return to Brix eventually and he didn’t want to be caught out unawares.

  He'd been walking for about an hour when the unexpected sounds of battle reached him, coming from further up the road. The ringing of steel cut through the forest, the clash of metal upon metal interrupted only by a shout or scream. It had to be the guards ahead, but what they were battling was anybody’s guess… bugbears, perhaps.

  Or something worse?

  He considered staying put, still along the treeline several meters from the edge of the road, but Max really needed to push forward. Until his Thirst and Hunger was addressed, his Fatigue would only continue to grow, slowing his movement speed. It was above 70% already and only worsening. If it reached 100%, he’d still be able to move, but every step would feel like he was dragging boulders behind him.

  So, he kept walking, if a little more cautiously than before. If Max wanted to keep living, he’d have to make sure he saw a threat before it saw him.

  It didn’t take long for the violent commotion to die down, then cease completely. No more yelling. No more clanging steel. Max caught the smell of smoke in the air. Who had survived? Perhaps more accurately—who might be ahead, waiting?

  Soon, he got an answer.

  When Max heard the sound of a rider coming his direction, he paused again and made sure he was well-hidden from the road. Though he couldn’t see the horse yet, he knew it was only one. The galloping was unmistakable, but this time Max could tell there wasn’t a group like before.

  His suspicion was confirmed a minute later. The horse ran at what must’ve been full speed. Hung over its neck was one of the guards Max had seen before. The man was clearly wounded—his leather skullcap was missing, revealing a mess of sweat-slicked hair. Blood painted his tunic. The guard had one hand clutched at this waist, where it barely covered a dark red blotch. He grimaced, clearly in pain. Whatever had gone down up the road, it seemed the Brix guards had been on the wrong end of it. A few seconds later, two other horses, rider-less, galloped in the dust behind the lone surviving guard

  Farther ahead, the source of the smoke became apparent. Through the tree trunks and branches, Max could see an opening in the tree cover, and the road led straight through a small village. One of the wooden buildings was on fire, but he couldn’t yet tell which one.

  As Max neared, he saw the village was more a collection of tiny cabins; a hamlet. Max pulled up his map, but this little community didn’t even show up. He had no idea it was even here, no one had ever mentioned it. Still concerned with whatever had fought with the guards, Max stayed away from the road. He decided it would be better to first circle and then approach the collection of huts from the side, where he could get near and still stay concealed by the forest.

  Around the western edge of the hamlet, Max found a lumber mill. Flames licked the structure hungrily, blackening its sturdy wooden beams. Logs and unprocessed trunks lay stacked to the side, some already claimed by the fire. The others would join them soon. Though smoke obscured his vision, Max could see the center of the hamlet now, where bodies lay. Though he was still too far away to identify them properly, he could still see the unmistakable colors of Brix amongst the slaughter.

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  At the edge of the clearing, Max paused and crouched low. He didn’t know if the threat was still in the area, or if the guards had managed to defeat it after all, even if it nearly cost them the entire party. Despite how badly he needed food and water, he figured he could be patient a little longer, just to watch the site before rushing in blindly. He was, so far as he could tell, still undetected, and Max wanted to keep it that way.

  Truthfully, he was exhausted. Max hadn’t really slept the night before, and whatever sleep he managed to steal was restless and filled with nightmares. Plus, he’d been walking all day. Though he hoped there would be somewhere safe where he could rest and reduce his Fatigue, that looked less and less likely by the hour. By now, the effects were noticeable. The higher it got, the more Max felt like he was walking underwater, or through sand. His were like anvils. Even his eyelids seemed to have weights attached to them.

  If he stayed still too long, Max was afraid he might fall asleep right then and there.

  However, for the minutes he crouched near the hamlet, watching, Max saw and heard nothing but the fire’s relentless consumption of the lumber mill. No movement, no sound of activity. No axes chopping, saws sawing. No smoke emerging from the chimneys here, or anyone rushing to put the fire out. It was eerily still. No voices. Even in broad daylight, Max’s hackles were raised.

  After a few minutes more, for good measure, Max made up his mind to investigate closer. The sun was long past its apex. Dark would be falling soon. He was taking a risk, revealing himself like this, but he needed to see if there was anything he could find that would help him survive the coming night.

  The evidence of a battle was everywhere. Carts lay overturned, spilling their contents across the road—wooden planks and crates of nails. It looked like a few huts had been ransacked as well, with clothes and cooking wares tossed out into the dirt. Max neared the bodies, cautiously. Several looked to be villagers. NPCs, because none had a death timer ticking above them. Strewn around these corpses were the Brix guards, and a couple horses too. All were cut down savagely.

  Pieces of them, anyway.

  Of the three dead guards, one was missing an arm, and another’s leg laid several meters away from his torso. The wounds were clean, exact. Like the limbs had been sliced off, not torn. The third dead guard laid face down, with a giant wound in the center of him. Each of the guards had death timers above them, each second bringing them closer to real death. All the timers had fewer than 30 minutes left.

  Too bad for them.

  It was hard for Max to feel much sympathy, despite what appeared to be a gruesome end… he recognized each of the guards; he’d known them all to have mean streaks. Not one had ever shown him or any other miner kindness. The way Max saw it, they were responsible for Alby’s death just as much as Proprietor Skole.

  He tried to focus on that anger while he went through their lootbags. He found some beef jerky, a waterskin, two flagons of ale, a turkey sandwich and a bedroll. All these he took. Max left the useless items (a pack of cards would do him no good on the road, or after), as well as the armor. Although he could sell them later, if he ever reached Tiann, the added weight in his inventory would slow him down. Of the weapons, Max only took a single dagger. It wouldn’t save his life in a fight, but it was light and it never hurt to have something equipped.

  Curiously, none of the guards had any coins. They either weren’t carrying any, which would have been strange, or they were looted already… Max considered the severed limbs and frowned. He’d better hurry it up, in case whatever caused this carnage decided to come back.

  Predictably, none of the villagers had nothing of much worth, but Max did take the few apples he found. He also noted that all of the villagers still had their limbs attached. In fact, even their wounds were different. It was almost as if they were executed. Max shuddered. Whatever had transpired here, he was ready to leave it far behind.

  It was then Max saw the huge figure walking towards him through the smoke. How had he missed him? The man must’ve emerged when his back was turned. The silhouette was clearly muscled, at least a head taller than Max. He carried a large broadsword in one hand, the flat of its blade resting casually against the front of his shoulder. It wasn’t hard to connect that giant weapon with the injuries sustained by the guards from Brix.

  Max bolted—

  But the assailant was fast. Max didn’t expect a man that size to move with such speed. Max had only gotten a few steps down the road before a hand grasped the back of his tunic. He found himself thrown to the ground and then roughly turned around, face up. Max was about to scratch and flail, but was quickly convinced to lay still.

  His attacker had brought the edge of the sword to his neck. Max felt the weight of the blade press into his skin; his neck seemed a twig in comparison. Whatever the big warrior had planned, there was no two ways about it. Max was at his utter mercy.

  “Don’t. Fucking. Move,” the warrior growled.