Nukzos knew it was a good idea to bring extra pack animals, as the transport carts were filled to bursting point. Grakos, very sluggish but powerful mammals whose appearance was reminiscent of a monkey with four abnormally thick feet, carried the excess mountains of gold and treasure that the pucks had received as wages from the trolls. Not only were the four best fighters of the Pit of Flesh still alive, even a few of the normal gladiator selection had made it and would be treated much better from now on.

  From Blood Tusk’s point of view, hardly anything would change. The giant slept peacefully on a bed of straw in his locked carriage.

  In Nukzo’s carriage, however, things looked very different. “I know it’s so uncomfortable,” he whispered absently. His bed was heaped with gold, in which he rolled. “But it’s worth the backache for me, hahaha!”

  The carriage wobbled quite a bit, as the ancient main road in the Diamond Jungle wasn’t exactly the best, but it was a better alternative than the inhospitable terrain of the jungle itself. “Speaking of our four champions,” Nukzo’s assistant mentioned. “All of them expect a more than fair reward for their arts.”

  “All of them?” asked Nukzos in astonishment.

  “Except for Blood Tusk. I told you he has no desire.”

  “Dumber than any Roder and ten times as strong. I love him,” laughed Nukzos, sliding coins between his fingers and looking at them greedily. “And the rest?”

  “We have three times freedom as a wish.”

  “Excuse me?” Nukzos was outraged. “How do they all come up with that?”

  “Well, you said every wish and they see it as well deserved after that massacre,” the assistant pointed out. He was sitting on an overstuffed treasure chest. “I mean, we can easily replace them, right? That was the plan anyway, if no one survives. We’ve got the wherewithal to do it.”

  “So what? We’d be crazy to let them all go! Especially all at once! Just think what kind of story we can tell with them now!” grinned Nukzos. He was no longer just in a gold rush. You could call it completely crazy the way he was laughing. “That means more gold for their fights and more bets! And with all that gold, we’ll secure influence in the other ports and dominate the entire coastal area!”

  “That sounds like a dream!” the assistant rejoiced, albeit not quite as manically. “Only, won’t our champions be extremely pissed off?”

  “Hah, what are they going to do? They’re ours!”

  “The Swordmaster said his share should be enough to pay off his village’s debts ... he’s only ours as long as that debt lasts, and well, he’s right.”

  Nukzos was truly greedy, and not just for the gold. He wanted everything. “He should watch what he′s wishing for! I’ll talk to him when we get back to Khuwix. Or we’ll throw him right off the airship if he makes faxes!”

  “And keep his earnings,” the assistant nodded, the worry still in his bones. “I’ll be so glad when we reach the airship.”

  Still half a day’s journey away from the caravan, their pick-up would be ready. Beneath the mighty cliffs of the Humpback Mountains, there was a large open space. It was popular with pucks who undertook daring expeditions into the Diamond Jungle but did not want to take the risk of the enormous distances through the dense jungle. Nukzos had done the same and a large airship would pick up his caravan there. This saved his group a journey of almost a week on foot through the dangerous corners of the Diamond Jungle, as trolls did not have such sophisticated equipment and were therefore no danger in the sky.

  All the more deadly were the tribes on the ground, like the pVenomsnakes that lay in wait in the protective trees, vines and bushes of the Diamond Jungle. Their bright green, staring eyes blended perfectly with the natural environment, like prey on the prowl. They were 15 warriors on each side of the road and whether it was hand-to-hand combat, taut bows or handy wooden javelins, everything was laced with paralyzing neurotoxin.

  This raiding party was led by a female troll who was not of enormous stature and even appeared slight due to her gaunt frame, but her bony contours and face alone were grim enough. She mimicked a shrill bird, heralding the attack.

  Arrows whistled through the air and pierced straight into the armed protectors of the caravan. Spears and throwing axes followed, even if they didn’t hit everyone, and falling trees blocked the rest of the road. Frenzied war cries rang through the air and, like a plague, the trolls leapt from every angle. Bushes were torn down, they burst out from between the trees and some even jumped out of holes in the ground camouflaged by leaves.

  Before the caravan even understood what was happening, half of the guards had already fallen before the actual battle began. Those who were hit by the first hail of arrows but not killed felt aching cramps in their wounds after a few seconds, which quickly spread through their bodies.

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  Bluthauer woke up instantly when he heard the voice of his coachman. “TROLLS!” the puck shouted, an arrow flying towards him. “WE’RE BEING ATTA-!”

  Panicked, the unarmed workers either ran over each other or landed directly in the blade of a troll.

  The caravan had two armored carriages loaded with treasures and two riflemen each. From the safety of the interior, the guards opened fire, but the trolls were quick and it took time to reload.

  Some of the guards outside also had rifles and they killed a few of the charging trolls, only to be slaughtered by the following troll.

  The sound of clanging steel and death screams didn’t scare Blood Tusk, but being locked up during the fight made him uneasy.

  “Protect me! Protect me!” Nukzos shouted in panic from his carriage, only for the door to slam shut again.

  The moment of surprise passed and the battle was no longer without resistance. A few trolls were still on the sidelines, firing their bows, while the caravan guards crossed arms with the attackers.

  One roder had been hit by two poisoned arrows, yet he fought on, intoxicated with adrenaline and rage. After slaying one Venomsnake with his great two-handed axe, the next dared to come at him, only to lose its head. It took several volleys of new arrows to bring this roder down.

  The middle section of the caravan had been wiped out and the front and rear sections were cut off from each other. The gladiators were in their wagons at the rear of the traveling party, each eager to get out of his cordoned-off van.

  One of the manned armored carriages was in front of Blood Tusk’s van and the guards inside kept firing relentlessly. “They’ve smelled the rat!” one man breathed heavily, his face wet with sweat. “They’re staying outside our embrasure!”

  A few dead trolls had been shot by the marksmen and they lay scattered around the carriage. The second archer, a puck on a stool, nervously searched the barrel of his guard for new targets. Suddenly a thin spear came through his embrasure and pierced his eye, of which the puck’s partner was unaware.

  On the roof of the armored carriage stood two Rivertooth warriors and on the other side, they repeated the stabbing of the remaining archer.

  “Hurry up!” said a female Riverfang warrior. She was standing with another tribal warrior behind the sturdy carriage, by Bluthauer’s wagon. “I don’t trust the Venomsnakes!”

  “Zu’ji assured us that they follow Haruk’Zil’s will,” one of the river fangs on the carriage roof replied as he jumped down. “We should also take some of the gold back with us.”

  “No!” the warrior shook her head as she pulled out a pale pipe. “The gold and the revenge are their reward, which Zu’ji also promised them. We’ll have enough problems later, so let’s stick to the herb witch’s words!”

  “All right, for Haruk’Zil!”

  Blood Tusk hadn’t noticed the conversation near his wagon. The commotion outside was too much for that. But the fact that someone was now tampering with the lock on his mobile cell made him flinch a little. He had no armor and no weapon other than his loincloth and strong body.

  The Riverfangs prepared themselves in front of the door. First and foremost the warrior, with her pale reed. A hammer broke the wagon’s lock and, after opening the door, she threw a dart with narcotics into the upper arm of the surprised giant inside.

  It was actually an equally fast-acting drug, but Blood Tusk remained untouched. He didn’t know where to go though, crammed into his wagon and with only the way forward, where spears were waiting, before he got another dart in the chest. The drug was still not taking effect and the giant dodged the third dart. Realizing he had no choice, he charged forward.

  The Riverfangs stabbed with their equally drugged spears and injured the unclean troll’s calves. Still, she could only watch as he flew over their heads with a pike and skillfully rolled away. “Why isn’t he losing his mind?” growled one of the warriors. Like everyone in his group, he had a particularly intimidating paint job on his war mask and was trying to intimidate the gladiator.

  The poison should have caused Blood Tusk to experience unreal hallucinations of the world long ago, but that was not yet the case. Accordingly, he showed no reaction and grabbed the spear end of the Riverfang in a flash. He pulled the troll owards himself and cut him down bloody, even though the Riverfang was still alive.

  The remaining Riverfangs formed a semicircle around the gladiator and drove him farther to the side of the road, into the bushes.

  Such a short spear was not necessarily Blood Tusk’s first choice of weapon. He could handle a lot of them, but it was a bit unusual for him. Besides, it didn’t seem to him like the attackers were trying to kill him as they kept making half-hearted advances.

  The giant’s death was certainly not the Riverfangs’ goal, but they were also overly cautious, having seen what the gladiator was capable of during the trials. “It works slowly,” the female warrior said. “His eyes, watch out.”

  Blood Tusk blinked a few times. He felt strange and the edges of his field of vision blurred. His senses were clouded.

  The Riverfangs took advantage of this and stabbed him with their spears. They inflicted weak wounds all over the giant’s body, through which more intoxicant entered his body. “Now he’s ready!”

  The trees bent like snakes and they took on faces. The blue sky turned red like an inferno and the ground became uneven, as if it were in constant flux.

  That was what Blood Tusk suddenly perceived and every sound went through him. All the strange smells of the jungle that were unfamiliar to him, like the sounds of the animal world itself, became a horror to him. The Riverfangs had disappeared and been replaced by grotesque monsters with disgusting grimaces. They were so fast and sometimes huge and sometimes small and a hitherto unknown feeling overcame Blood Tusk. He was unfamiliar with it, as his battles and wounds had always been purely physical, but now his mind was under attack. But instead of falling to his knees in fear, it sent him into a state of frenzy, attacking everything in sight with unimaginable force.

  The Riverfangs backed away as they watched the berserker start tearing down trees and stomping his feet on rocks. “His spirit is strong!” the warrior said. Instead of a spear, she used her pale reed again.

  However, Blood Tusk was fast even in his frenzied rush, even faster than usual, and he caught a Riverfang with an outstretched arm, causing the tribal troll to somersault twice.

  It took another dart from the female warrior’s pale pipe to finally fray the gladiator’s nerves. She watched as his pace slowed and he began to stagger before finally collapsing unconscious. “Check on the others,” she ordered, ”I’ll tie him up and then we’ll get out of here.”