“Men of destiny often share

  the same path.”

  -the Chronicler

  Chapter 8: Blood on the Sand

  Magnus always wondered what it would be like to fly through AA-laser fire. Now he knew. The simulations were far from accurate.

  Nothing at the academy could have truly prepared him for what was happening. Maintaining steady control of The Herald while flying amidst lasers and the cannonade of D.E.P.’s (delayed explosive phanters) was more intense than he could have imagined. More so, in fact, now that the pilot was dead, and he, being the copilot, was the only one left to take control.

  This was his first mission, and he was beginning to think it was about to be his last. For six months, he had been training as a pilot for the Paradignian Air Force. Usually, the training took years of extensive study, instruction, and testing. Given his level of intellect, and the deficiency of personnel amongst active airmen, he had been deployed much earlier than was typical. Particularly frightening was the fact that his first mission was a dangerous prisoner extraction, classified as top secret. Should he die here, his mother would not even be informed as to how it happened.

  His passengers were a spec-ops team known simply as Dunmar Squad. Magnus had never met anyone from a special forces unit before, but he did not imagine them to be like the Dunmar Squad was. They were beyond rugged, and far from professional. Though their armor was indicative of special forces, their demeanor was reflective of a mercenary gang he had once encountered. They were mean, self-serving, and abrasive. It seemed that even the “elite units” were scraped from the bottom of the barrel these days. Magnus wondered what the Kingdom was coming to.

  With them, but very unlike them, was a tall, dark armored figure. Rumor had it that he was the Blight, a legend in his own time. Someone whose skills were unprecedented, and his powers unearthly. A demon from the dark dimension.

  Magnus was a man of science, not superstition. Believing the fantastic, ridiculous things people said concerning the man, thing, or whatever he was was preposterous to say the least. However, he knew that fiction regarding any man had some basis in fact. If even half of what he heard concerning the Blight was true, then Magnus understood the Blight was the last person on all of Inkh he would want to make an enemy of.

  Before the attack, Dunmar Squad had done everything they could think of to agitate the silent figure. From what Magnus could hear below him and see on cams, nothing had seemed to work, though it was apparent the squad members were too afraid to get too close to the man. Even they seemed to fall prey to the myths surrounding him.

  As they flew above the desert, death drawing nearer each time a laser grazed the shielding, Magnus could not help but think of his family and friends. His mother, his long deceased father and brother, and even the brother who had abandoned them all came to mind. He had not seen his family since he had left for training. He would have paid any price just to see them one last time.

  A red indicator began flashing above him. It was for the fuel regulator. Should the fuel line go, The Herald would explode, with all of them in it.

  “Everyone out!” Magnus yelled over the comm. Everyone below unfasted their safety belts, and made ready to leave. Accordingly, Magnus pressed the button to open the cargo bay doors.

  The Dunmar Squad leader, a man named Bucifer, ran over to the ladder below him. From the cargo bay, he yelled up to him, aggravated.

  “The bay doors are still shut!” Bucifer yelled, his voice barely audible as the wail of the ship’s sirens drowned everything out.

  “Use the manual lever! Get out of here!” Magnus yelled back, agitated that a so-called “elite unit” didn’t remember the emergency protocol.

  Magnus saw Bucifer run away from the ladder, and perform the required action. At that moment, an explosion rocked the side of The Herald. Gripping the controls tightly, Magnus barely managed to keep the ship on course. He realized that, within the next two minutes, if not sooner, the ship would be done for.

  Though every instinct in his body told him to jump out, he knew his duty was to keep The Herald in the sky until Dunmar Squad and their plus one were cleared. Magnus doubted there would be enough time to do that and escape. This, he feared, was the end of the line.

  Turning to the camera feed, he briefly glanced up to see if his passengers had jumped. His heart sank as he saw Bucifer and the stranger were still aboard. He roared his command over the comm again.

  “Get out! NOW!” Magnus yelled, hoping that The Herald’s comm unit was still intact.

  Below him, he could barely hear Bucifer yelling at the stranger.

  “Leave him! We have a job to do!”

  Magnus looked once more to see that the stranger was walking towards the ladder, paying the smaller man no mind. Bucifer gave up, shaking his head as he jumped out. The Blight was coming for him.

  Fearing that his comm was dead, Magnus tried to turn towards the opening of the ladder. Given his port engine was nearly dead, he had to keep a steady hand on the controls to keep flight integrity. With each passing moment, it became harder and harder to do so.

  Though Magnus couldn’t turn to face the ladder, he still yelled out, hoping the stranger would hear him. The pilot’s control panel caught on fire, sparking and snapping as the heat expanded the coils. Magnus leaned to the wall on his right so as not to be burned.

  “I said get out! Forget about me!”

  In his peripheral, Magnus nearly jumped out of his seat in horror as the dark figure immediately appeared there, scaring him. It was as though he had not climbed the ladder at all, but rather, had jumped to the space above it.

  “What are you-?”

  Before Magnus could finish his sentence, the stranger wrenched the controls from his hand. The heat from the fire did not seem to bother him. Pointing his hand towards the right wall, the stranger launched a metallic cable into the metal structure. With one end fastened, the stranger pulled the cable. Then, detaching it from a device on his forearm, he put the other end onto the controls via magnetic bands. Pressing a button on his H.I.C., the cable then tightened, thereby pulling the controls to the right. All of this was completed in a matter of seconds, Magnus watched in amazement.

  Before Magnus knew what happened, he found himself falling down the opening of the ladder. Too shocked to scream, Magnus soon found his breath taken away as his body fell to the cargo deck below, a good 6 meter drop. The stranger had thrown him down the ladder hole.

  “Whose side are you on, man?” Magnus wheezed, gasping for air as he looked up at the stranger now standing above him.

  “Master says much grab sides tight. No flail,” a robotic voice replied, as though coming from the stranger. Magnus’s eyes widened in fear, imagining what was about to happen given the warning.

  The stranger reached down and grabbed the bottom of Magnus’s chest plate. Then, he lifted him up from the ground with only one arm as Magnus began to protest.

  “What are you doing?! Wait! No! I don’t have a flight suit! Stop!”

  “Much hold on!” the voice replied.

  Within seconds, Magnus found himself hurled out the cargo bay doors, flying through the air above the desert. Panicking, he began to yell as he flew through the sky. Adrenaline flowed through him, as his mind reeled from the reality of his situation.

  All he could see below him was sand. Lots and lots of sand. Dunmar Squad could be seen. Presumably, they had landed much farther back. Not that they would, or could, do anything to help him.

  At this distance and velocity, his impact with the ground would be fatal. In vain, he reached down and around his person instinctively to activate his flight suit. He reacted out of habit, but consciously, he knew there was not one on him. Old habits die hard.

  Getting a hold of himself, he tried turning his body to face The Herald. Perhaps the stranger was going to keep him from falling to his death. It was a desperate hope, but given all the feats the stranger had done right before his eyes, perhaps it wasn’t an impossibility. Before being able to do so, he heard The Herald’s explosion above him. It lit up the sky around him with a fiery light. Magnus took it as an omen of his death.

  “I think I would’ve preferred getting caught in that explosion than this. Thanks, mysterious stranger,” Magnus thought, still descending to the ground below.

  He closed his eyes, trying to make peace with his situation before having it all end. The last thing he would do is face death in a panic. Magnus knew this could happen, and it did. He could not change it now. He wanted to be calm when the end came.

  Many thoughts in those brief moments brought him peace, but none more so than the assurance that he would soon see his father and eldest brother soon. Maybe even his second eldest, though he knew little of what had ever happened to him after he left. Regardless, reconciliation awaited him.

  Magnus felt a tug on his back plate. The tug became stronger and tighter as his descent slowed. Then, a sudden jerk, as he heard the unmistakable sound of anti-gravity boots whirring and pulsating behind him. He reached behind to feel that someone was holding onto him. He dared to open his eyes and see that he was now only ten meters from a sand dune, descending slowly.

  As Magnus gently fell to the ground, he scooped up a handful of sand and threw it in the air. It was soft and hydrated, more like beach sand than desert sand. It landed gently on the young pilot’s head and chest.

  “I’m alive!” he yelled, elated. The hellish happenings of the last few minutes were over.

  He felt a hand, the same that had presumably saved him, now clasped over his mouth. It was the stranger, who now faced him with his index finger placed over his face plate. Magnus only no realized how loud he had been.

  “Sorry,” Magnus whispered, embarrassed by his outburst. He proceeded to stand up, brushing himself off.

  Magnus was nearly the same height as the stranger. He wore armor customary to that of a Paradignian pilot, with badges indicating high marks in all his trials. He had dark skin, with dark, curly hair to match.

  “Thanks for saving me back there. I thought this flight might be my swan song,” Magnus said, sticking his hand out to shake the stranger’s. After a moment’s hesitation, the stranger shook it in the way customary to Paradignians.

  “My name is Magnus. What’s yours?” Magnus asked.

  “Master much no speak,” a voice from behind the stranger replied.

  “Um, okay. Does “master” sign speak?” Magnus answered back, a look of confusion springing to his face as his brow furrowed. He tried to peer behind the stranger, but no one seemed to be there.

  “Yes,” the stranger replied, using his hands to communicate.

  “Oh, hey,” Magnus replied, looking towards the stranger once more. “I didn’t get that name.”

  “That’s not important right now. Let’s go,” the stranger commanded, still using his hands to speak. Then, he turned around and walked away. Magnus followed behind him, taking in their surroundings during their brisk walk.

  “Where are we going?” Magnus asked, keeping his voice low as they walked across the dunes.

  “Rally point.”

  “To meet with the Dunmar Squad?”

  “Yes.”

  “They must have dropped back a ways. Not much of an elite unit, are they?” Magnus remarked.

  “They’re not.”

  “Not much of one, or...?”

  “Not an elite unit,” the stranger replied.

  “Really? But command said-”

  “Command lied. This mission is a ruse. Our enemies knew we were coming.”

  “What? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would-” Magnus scoffed, looking down as he pondered the thought.

  “No time to explain. The squad’s apathy towards your survival shows how ill qualified they are for the job,” the stranger explained. “I imagine they are somehow in on this.”

  “Then why are we going to meet them?” Magnus asked, confused.

  “We need information. We need to know what they do.”

  “I see...”

  “Thank you, by the way. You laid it on the line. That takes courage,” the stranger replied, stopping mid walk to address him.

  “Just doing my job,” Mangus replied, trying to act nonchalant about it.

  The desert was cold that night. Magnus knew a little about survival and land navigation in arid environments, but he was thankful the stranger was there to lead the way. After the last few minutes of disorientation and panic, it was nice to have a quiet, guided walk to their destination. Hopefully, they could make it out of here alive.

  Nothing but sand could be seen for miles. The moon’s light was bright, and in the night sky, it was so large Magnus felt as though he could just reach out and touch it. Disregarding present circumstances, it would be almost sacrilegious to not appreciate the natural beauty and wonder of his environment. The Sashyrrian Desert was a curious place.

  A wasteland nearly a million kilometers across, it was rumored to house many strange and scarce things. The Sashyrrian Desert housed the once infamously notorious Deathlock prison. Not commonly known was the fact that the prison was still being used. By the Kenzanite government, no less.

  No one at command knew why the Kenzanites were able to occupy the prison and make it their own. I was newly revealed, classified information.The Sashyrian people were harsh, cruel, and war like. Their leader was even more so than the others, given that’s how their hierarchy functioned. Offering up real estate to a foreign power was far from what would be considered their modus operandi. Regardless, the situation was what it was, and their mission led them to Deathlock.

  “Hey, um... Blight?” Magnus asked, breaking the silence.

  Tilting his head to the side, but not stopping, the stranger listened.

  “How did you do that back there?”

  “Do what?” the stranger motioned.

  “On The Herald. Throwing me from that distance with just one arm. Forgive me, that would seem impossible unless you have some special ability, or you’ve been... juicing?” Magnus asked, immediately regretting he brought up such an invasive line of inquiry.

  A red light attached to a figure of some sort on the stranger’s back appeared. Magnus originally thought it was part of the stranger’s armor, but apparently, it was a droid of some type, clinging to back plating as though it was a part of it.

  “Master? Much juicing? Much... roided?! BAHAHAHAHAHA!” The little droid burst out, seemingly enjoying the idea of prodding his master with the accusation.

  The stranger put his index finger to his face plate, once again emphasizing the need for silence. His call to remembrance was too late. They had been heard.

  On this windless evening, voices traveled fast. In the distance, Magnus heard a faint noise. It was a high pitched screech unlike any he had ever heard before. Though faint, it was enough to unsettle him. Judging by the stranger’s body language, it looked as though Magnus was not the only one disturbed.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  The stranger moved quickly, placing himself behind a dune. It took Magnus a moment to come to his senses and do the same. Subtlety the two peeked over the dune towards where the noise came from.

  “Master, so sorry. Much sad. Much won’t laugh at again...” the little droid whispered, whimpering.

  “Is something coming for us?” Magnus asked.

  “Yes,” the stranger answered, focused on seeing what had made the call.

  A moment of silence passed.

  “What are we going to do?” Magnus asked, ready for his plan.

  “Wait.”

  “But shouldn’t we run?”

  “Where?”

  The stranger’s point was valid. After all, there was no cover for escape out here. Nowhere to hide.

  “Okay... how about we bury ourselves under the sand?” If we stay here they might catch us.”

  “I wouldn’t help. They’ll sniff us out.”

  “Sniff us out?” What could sniff us out?“

  “You’ll see. Stay here with my droid. Don’t reveal yourselves until I give the order,” the stranger commanded.

  “But shouldn’t I-” Magnus asked, feeling useless.

  “Stay here,” the stranger ordered, handing over what looked to be a long handled dagger.

  “Press this button to activate it,” the stranger instructed, rising to his feet.

  Magnus, though thankful, was noticeably underwhelmed by the weapon. His H.I.C. offered a shield, but without a proper sword, his defense and means of attack would be quite limited. He gestured towards the weapon he was given.

  “I appreciate it, but couldn’t I have one of your swords? I’m not that great with a dagger,” Magnus admitted, trying to pass off his disappointment for ineptitude.

  “That is a sword. Now stay down,” the stranger replied, walking away.

  Magnus, finding himself overwhelmed with curiosity, activated the blade. From its base, the dagger quickly extended out to be a sword, and then activated a red laser along the cutting edges, and shielding where there once was none. Quickly, he turned it back off again, and the blade collapsed back into itself.

  “Nice,” Magnus remarked, impressed with the blade’s design.

  As he lay in the dirt, the little droid that the stranger had aforementioned came dashing over the hill on its tiny, skinny legs. It looked rather comical as it ran. Making itself comfortable next to him, it peered over the dune’s edge in the direction of its master.

  “Name Naf. Liked juicing joke. Much laugh. Too much laugh. Much sorry.”

  “It’s okay,“ Magnus began, finding it strange that a droid was so apologetic.

  “Look! Much come!” the droid whispered, pointing in the distance in the direction of the stranger.

  Far away, Magnus could see figures approaching. The stranger stood roughly 500 meters away from where he lay prone, and the huddled mass that approached them appeared nearly a kilometer and a half away. Not able to tell exactly what he was seeing, Magnus activated the magnifiers on his H.I.C., letting the holographic scope pop up and magnify whatever was incoming. Magnus and Naf stared at the zoomed in image in horror.

  “Sashyrian riders,” Magnus whispered, his heart sinking at the sight.

  Magnus had heard tales of the Sashyrian riders, and none of them gave him hope for their predicament. The rumors he had heard regarding their description were true. Large, black beards streamed down from their browned faces. Red armor, dipped in the blood of their enemies, adorned their outer wear. With their sickle swords and pointed helmets, their look was unmistakable. What made them even more distinct was the beasts of which they rode: sabretooth raptors.

  Raptors were fierce, reptilian carnivores of unparalleled tenacity. Running on their hind legs, the loathsome creatures instinctively attacked with their teeth and razor sharp claws. After being trained, they not only acted as mounts, but as a sort of foot soldier, able to swing and jab laser enforced spears, scythes, and axes they held in their claws. Regular riders had laser cannon shoulder mounts, or a different outfitting depending on the rider’s preference. Captains tended to have two or three of the beasts attached to the sides of their hovercraft, which was outfitted with laser cannon technology as well as other weapon systems.

  Magnus tried to count their numbers. The rapidly approaching entourage looked to number at least a hundred, but there was no sure way of knowing until they stopped.

  “We’re gonners,” Magnus continued, fearing the reality of the situation.

  “Much wait. Have faith,” the droid assured him. “Master tough.”

  “Against one hundred Sashyrian riders?!” Magnus asked, turning his gaze from the scene to face the funny looking droid.

  “Master. Tough.” the droid affirmed, folding its arms.

  Magnus turned his gaze back to the scene unfolding before him. The stranger was like a statue, standing motionless as the Sashyrians approached. He began to think that the riders might just run right over him, given their pace and proximity to him. Magnus was thankful they had not seen him yet. He did not have the same confidence in his own abilities as the droid did in the Blight.

  The Sashyrians surrounded the stranger, the raptors snapping their jaws anxiously as they eyed their prey. A Sashyrian Captain, with three raptors running alongside his hovercraft, emerged from among his riders, directly facing the stranger. The Captain rose from his chariot, pulling out his elongated sickle sword and pointing it towards his foe. Using his translator earpiece, Magnus was able to hear what the Sashyrian demanded.

  “You are surrounded. Lay down your weapons and armor, and we will spare your miserable, infidel life,” the Captain roared.

  The stranger made no reaction, and no reply. Aggravated, the Captain snarled in a similar manner as his raptors. Shaking his fist at the Blight, he continued his threats.

  “You have no chance against us, fool. Drop your weapons, before my patience and good grace give way to the justice I am sworn to render,” the Captain hissed, now waving about his sword.

  Magnus began to grow more nervous, seeing that the stranger had no intention to comply, let alone respond. Slowly, the riders began to draw in, their mounts’ eyes glowing red, as though reflecting the color of their inner bloodlust. A fight was about to begin.

  “Very well, trespasser, you give me no choice,” the Captain stated, devilishly grinning from ear to ear.

  Magnus did not know if he could bare to watch what would happen next. The outcome seemed clear. He knew what raptors were capable of, and he could not stomach a bloodbath. Like their masters, the raptors reveled in the cruelty they could inflict onto others. More often than not, Sashyrians would let their pets eat their foes alive on the battlefield. Most likely, that is what the Captain had in mind for the trespasser.

  Charging the stranger with uncanny speed, a raptor in front of him and behind him drew in to tear him in half. Not bothering to use the weapons they had in hand, the raptors extended their jaws outward in anticipation of the taste of flesh.

  Magnus did not fully understand what happened next, but he could not deny the results. Within seconds the two raptors who had charged the stranger lay dead in the sand, their heads removed from their bodies. Their riders, consequently, had fallen off their rides. Quickly, they rose up to their feet, drawing their swords whilst activating their shields.

  The Blight stood with one of the strange swords on his back withdrawn and activated. A red, glowing laser surrounded its cutting edges. With his free hand, he used sign speak to address the Captain.

  “Leave me be, or risk the same fate as these,” he motioned, pointing to the deceased reptilians on the sand.

  The Captain, apparently not knowing the silent language, sat confused on his mount. One of his men, seeming to have understood the message, translated it for him. The Captain’s facial expression turned to a sneer after his man finished.

  “Arrogant swine. Oraham!” The Captain cried, pointing his sword forward to command another charge.

  It was clear that the stranger, by demonstrating his abilities, had hoped to not have to resort to more lethal methods. Taking on the plight of non-confrontation was unexpected, especially considering who the mysterious warrior was facing. Now, lethal force was his only option.

  Nearly twenty riders and their mounts, along with the two Sashyrians who had their mounts killed, ran in to destroy the stranger. Some of the raptors, by command of their masters, had activated their scythes and spears. One of the riders shot off his shoulder mounted cannon, aiming directly at the feet of his enemy. A red beam of plasma zoomed towards its target.

  With uncanny speed, the stranger leaped into the air as though he were flying, evading the blast below him . Quickly, he withdrew the other sword off of his back, activating it. Flipping midair, he used the momentum of his twist to launch one of his swords directly at the Sashyrian Captain. To Magnus’s shock, as well as the Sashyrians, the blade pierced the Captain’s chest plate. Launching him from his hover chariot, the Captain found himself shish-kebabed to the dune behind him. The blade, with no pressure on the hilt to keep it activated, turned itself off.

  Every Sashyrian, along with the twenty-two that had charged him, stared in shock at their dead leader. It seemed that even the raptors were conscious of the shift in dynamics. The stranger landed gracefully between the two circles of men just milliseconds after the fatal blow.

  Sashyrians, from an early age, were taught cruelty, torture, and war. The worst and toughest of them rose in the ranks, keeping the others in line while fueling their blood thirst and proclivity towards violence. Some, however, were never really given any other choice but to be barbaric. Now, they had that choice. With their Captain dead, the decision lay before them. Especially, for those who had not yet sullied their blades and armor in the blood of their foes. Sadly, none of them chose to rethink their lives.

  Overcoming their moment of shock and consternation, the Sashyrians' rage amplified. With their leader dead, Magnus had imagined that either fear or anger would win them over, but never rage of such a degree. Killing the Captain seemed to not have the intended effect. Unless, the intended purpose was to make the Sashyrians even more rancorous and wrathful. None sparing, all the remaining riders moved in for the kill.

  The attack was simultaneous. Three raptors led the charge from his left side, while one to his right charged with its fauchard fork activated, glowing a vibrant red hue. Their riders leaned to their sides, mounted on their beasts in an attack position. With swords outstretched, the stranger had nowhere to go. Should the raptors not cut the Blight down, the Sashyrian riders would.

  The stranger charged the lone raptor. Oddly, he had opted to do such with no weapons in hand, having put his blade away as he ran. The creature snapped at him as he narrowly dodged under the beast’s swing and teeth. Quickly, the stranger found his blade once more. Then, with deadly precision, cut the tendons near the raptor’s fetlock, causing the animal to tumble forward, screeching out in pain. As it fell, the Blight picked up its forked weapon, using it to cut down the other oncoming raptors and riders with one swift motion. With the aforementioned tumbling, it managed to trip up the three raptors that had been coming from his left. Caught off guard, they too found themselves killed by the elongated weapon.

  Whether on mount or by foot, the Blight blocked or countered every strike. In mere moments, he ended the lives of many Sashyrians. Magnus could hardly believe his eyes. It looked less like a battle, and more like a dance of death. To the Sashyrians’ dismay, the Blight was leading.

  More riders charged him. Raptors clawed at him. Others swung their weapons at him, with a chosen few even throwing them at him. The Sashyrians, in turn, also swung their weapons at him, nearly cutting one another down to do so. From where he lay, Magnus could barely make out what was happening in the huddled mass of bodies, screams, and dancing lights. The orgy of rage and death was flashing before his eyes so rapidly that it was hard to know just exactly what was happening. All he knew for certain was that, despite the odds, the Blight was still alive.

  Twenty bodies lay on the ground now, half riders, and the other half the ridden. With each failed attack, the stranger would launch a fatal counter attack. His speed was remarkable. Unearthly, even. His strength was unheard of. His precision, unprecedented. Jumping, slashing, dodging, punching, kicking, blocking, shooting… all added together, his prowess was so dominating that even the highly trained, murderous Sashyrians reached a roadblock as to what he should do next. The Blight should have been dead by now, yet still he stood, fighting so that they both might survive. Magnus was baffled that one lone warrior could stand against so many?

  Magnus counted twenty five pairs dead now. He began to think that the droid was right. The more the stranger fought, the more Magnus saw how many of the rumors were true. Maybe the Blight was a demon from the dark dimension. Maybe, he was something more.

  It was not until fifty men and raptors lay dead that Magnus could see the warrior’s speed slowing. It was slight, yet still noticeable. Watching the fight intently under the pale moonlight, Magnus tried to discern each moment of the intense conflict. With a show this spectacular, it was difficult to not lose himself in the moment of it. The spectacle turned his fearful expectations to awestruck marveling.

  As the conflict grew more intense, Magnus noticed something bad. One of the Sashyrians was running right towards him. Quickly, he ducked under the dune, shoving the droid’s head down so he would do the same.

  “One is coming this way!” Magnus whispered, now frozen with fear.

  “Why come to spot?” the droid whispered back.

  There was no time to speculate on the rider’s motives. More likely than not, it was probably some sort of attempt to sneak off and then blindside the Blight. Magnus frantically tried to think of a plan to ensure his and the droid’s survival.

  The raptor came over the dune nearly ten meters from Magnus’ position. Instinctively, Magnus remained frozen in place. To his right, the little droid did the same. Should the rider and the raptor turn even the slightest amount to their left, the two would be dino-dinner.

  Up close, the raptor looked even more large and fearsome. They were still running down the dune, apparently not ready to cut behind the Blight. Though the likelihood of Magnus’ detection slightly decreased with every step the raptor took, he understood the fragility of his concealment all too well. He slowed his breath, trying his best to conceal his presence to all the raptor’s keen senses. A drop of sweat streamed down Magnus’s forehead as he sat in nervous anticipation.

  Slowing its descent, the raptor began to act strange. Turning its head from left to right, it began to snort, and breathe in heavily, sticking its snout towards the sky whilst doing so. Its rider, initially aggravated with the creature’s lack of compliance, began to torque the reins. Kicking his legs and whispering out verbal commands, the rider continued to try and get his animal back on track. As the raptor grew more stubborn, the Sashyrian realized that the raptor must have smelled something. Magnus’ heart rate increased as his mind drifted back to the stranger’s warning. There was no hiding from the creatures.

  It was at that moment that the droid began running towards the raptor and its rider. Magnus, too shocked at the leap to action, was not able to stop the little droid in time, though he wished he had. With its little legs propelling him forward, Magnus witnessed the droid seal their fates.

  The raptor and its rider turned to face the two, with their immediate focus on the droid. From this distance, all Magnus could see of their faces was the raptor’s devilish eyes glowing through the darkness. Swiftly, it ran towards the droid.

  The raptor could have easily crushed the little droid with his feet alone, but he was not given the chance. Using a tiny, hidden thruster, the droid jumped, launching itself towards the raptor’s head. Magnus’ heart sank as the beast snapped its powerful jaws over Naf’s little legs, crushing them. Naf’s red eye flickered, its legs sparking from the severed ends and coils.

  Before becoming completely severed from his other half, Naf grabbed the eye sack of the raptor. Holding on for dear life, the droid lifted its head to face the raptor’s head. Then, with a sudden burst, the droid shot out a singular, red laser out of its eye. Disintegrating through its eyes and brain, the raptor fell to the ground, Naf, still clutched between its lifeless jaws, began to slowly lose power. After the blast, the droid’s eye dimmed to a barely visible light.

  Though the raptor was dead, its rider was not. Rising to his feet, he saw that both the raptor and the droid were dead. Coming to his senses, he activated his sword and shield. Enraged over the death of his animal, the Sashyrian charged Magnus furiously, with every intent to end his life. Magnus, coming to his senses, rose to his feet.

  Many options lay before him. From fighting the Sashyrian squarely to running away, he had little time to decide. He had never been in a to the death sword fight before, and although previously interested in testing his skills, he had little desire to lose his life in the process.

  His opponent was fierce. An elite. Potentially, an experienced, battle hardened warrior. Magnus knew he needed to act, but he was too frozen in fear to think of how he should respond. Now, it was too late. The Sashyrian was upon him.

  Magnus barely dodged his assailant’s first attack. Leading off with a downward slash, the Sashyrian speedily lashed out at him again. Once more, Magnus barely dodged the blow. Picking up on his awkward stance, the Sashyrian elected to slam his shield into him, knocking him down flat on his back. Magnus had little time to roll over before the Sashyrian had the chance to thrust him through. Emboldened by his supposed superiority, his opponent lashed wildly and recklessly out at Magnus once more, who somehow had managed to make it to his feet.

  Finally thinking to turn on his shield, Magnus blocked the sequence of attacks. Then, pulled out the sword the Blight had given him. The Sashyrian mockingly took note of the underwhelming weapon. He then laughed in the young pilot’s face.

  Growing cockier with each strike, the Sashyrian began to toy with the young, inexperienced pilot. Like a predator playing with its prey before the kill, the Sashyrian had no doubts concerning his victory. All he seemingly had to do now was choose in what horrible way his foe would perish.

  Spinning under his attack, Magnus activated the blade the Blight had given him. Whether by sheer luck, or hidden skill, the blade found its mark. The weapon thrust through the Sahyrian’s midsection with relative ease, cutting through the shielding reinforced breastplate. Above him, Magnus could feel his opponent’s breath leave him as the blade cut and seared his person.

  “It’s a grower, scumbag,” Magnus whispered, gritting his teeth. “Not a show-er.”

  The light slowly left the Sashyrian’s eyes, as his lifeless body slid off the sword, thudding onto the sand. Fresh blood, the Sashyrian’s blood, slowly oozed out onto the dried blood which already resided on the Sashyrian’s breastplate. The fight was over, as Magnus’ anger and fear subsided.

  Magnus had never taken a life before. Logically, he knew had had no choice, but emotionally, and even spiritually, it felt wrong. Too shocked to move or deactivate his weaponry, Magnus stood above his opponent. With eyes widened in horror, as he stared down at the body he had just taken life from. One moment, the warrior had been alive. By his own doing, he was now dead. Magnus wished it had not had to be so.

  “Not fault. No guilt,” a voice whispered from off in the distance.

  Magnus recognized it to be Naf’s. Coming back to his senses, Magnus ran to Naf’s side. Prying him loose from the dead raptor’s jaws, he held the tiny droid in his hands. Naf looked up into his eyes, his little eye flickering as it grew more and more dim.

  “Much dying. Last hoorah,” Naf whispered, dramatically grabbing its chest.

  “We can-”

  “Small light. Much draw closer. Leave behind possessions to you. Much leave world behind...” Naf continued, cutting Magnus off. “Sacrificed all. Much remember me. So... heroic...”

  “But we-” Magnus began, before being interrupted once more.

  “Stay strong. Fight on. Be heroic, much like me.” Naf replied, cradling Magnus’ jaw with his little hand.

  “Much find love, Magnus. Live your life. Be much free. No drink. No drug. No cheat. Clean teeth. Much learn from me, Magnus. Much learn.”

  “But don’t you have an extra power cell?” Magnus asked, finally getting what he wanted to say.

  “Oh. Much forgot,” Naf replied. After a long, awkward silence, Naf spoke up once more.

  “Roll over. Much remove.”

  Magnus did as the little droid asked, pulling off the battery and placing it inside Naf’s chest. Immediately, his light glowed brightly once more.

  “Forget will. No inheritance for you. But now, forever cripple,” Naf replied sadly.

  Magnus shook his head, dismissing the droid’s dramatic outbursts. He then ran to see what had become of the Blight. Magnus had hoped things were going as well as they had been for him. Sadly, that was not the case.

  Only fifteen combatants remained to face him, but as Magnus reached the dune’s peak to watch, he saw a near fatal blow dealt to the Blight’s backside. One of the rider free raptors had managed to slip up behind him, using his razor sharp claws to slash him. The Blight counterattacked by thrusting his swords through the raptor’s head, but the damage had been done. Somehow, however, the warrior remained standing.

  Seeing him bleed made the remaining Sashyrians and their mounts more anxious to end the fight. Now that they could see the man was just flesh and blood, they rushed in to damage him even more. Attempting to box him in, they began rushing him in waves of two to three. The Blight barely managed to stave off their attacks. He was purely on the defensive now, and it would not be long before his body would fail him.

  Magnus knew he needed to do something, but on foot, he stood little chance of fighting effectively, let alone keeping up with the swift moving riders. With his biosuit on full acceleration, he might be able to catch up, but not without giving away his position. His attack, to be effective, needed to come as a surprise. Magnus placed little Naf, who was being held in his hand, on the sand. Deciding upon his course of action, he rushed over to the fallen raptor Naf had slain.

  “No abandon cripple. Much sad!” Naf harped, not understanding what Magnus was doing.

  The raptor’s shoulder mounted cannon seemed to still be in working order. Quickly, Magnus began removing it from its twitching corpse. The raptor smelled of burned flesh and excrement. He did his best to ignore the awful stench.

  Finally getting it loose, Magnus ran with the heavy weapon. He needed to hurry if he was going to save the stranger. Turning up the power on his biosuit, he managed to make it to the dune’s edge a little faster.

  The stranger was still holding his own, and was able to defeat one of the riders. The Sashyrians, however, had not given up. Determined to annihilate their foe, they continued to wear on his stamina. Magnus could tell that the Blight’s strength was waning rapidly. He needed a reprieve from the Sashyrian onslaught.

  The weapon, if not fired from a prone position, would surely knock him over. Despite his enhanced strength granted to him by the biosuit, it would not be enough to deal with the recoil of the gun. Even prone, Magnus doubted his ability to deal with the powerful weapon’s recoil. Regardless, he had to try.

  The cannon was not meant to be fired in such a way. Not handheld, anyway. Improvising, Magnus placed the weapon on the downward slope of the other side of the dune. Putting his shoulder against its butt, Magnus prepared to fire the weapon using its manual switch. Though not having a gun-site, he was confident that he could shoot it with accuracy from this range. After some self encouragement, a few deep breaths, and a silent prayer, Magnus took aim at the pack of Sashyrians. Being careful not to aim in the direction of the Blight, he slowly pulled the manual trigger.

  Magnus had the good sense to close his eyes just before the cannon flashed in front of him. Sadly, he was ill prepared for the recoil. Kicking into his shoulder, Magnus yelled out in pain. The pummeling his shoulder received was excruciating to say the least, and it took him a moment to reorient himself. Steeling himself, he focused on where the shot had landed.

  In the distance, Magnus could see that he had killed at least three Sashyrians and their mounts, while managing to knock two more down. With the surprise attack taking his opponents off guard, the Blight seized the opportunity. Utilizing what energy he had left, he made quick work a good portion of the rest. Now, only two remained. Deciding their best chance for survival was to flee, the two turned their raptors around and began to run. Despite their mounts’ apparent dislike of the plan, the Sashyrians were quickly gaining ground. Magnus thought that they might actually escape. That was, until the Blight acted yet again.

  Raising his wrist gun, the Blight fired off a mini D.E.P. The disc shaped device rocketed between the two riders, making a whirring sound as it flew through the air. Then, it exploded, shooting out multiple laser rings of all different shapes and colors from its center. Not able to evade the blast, the last of the Sashyrian riders met a quick end, being cut through hundreds of times by the D.E.P. 's blast. Upon seeing that no more foes remained, the dark warrior fell to the ground.

  Magnus rushed to his side, carrying the man’s half intact droid with him. Kneeling down next to him, Magnus checked his wounds. The stranger’s eye slots still remained aglow.

  “Stay with me, okay? I’ll get you squared away,” Magnus said, trying to think of a way to heal the man’s bleeding backside.

  “You’ve lost a lot of blood. We need to get you patched up,” Magnus admitted.

  The stranger began using his hands to communicate.

  “They would have informed Deathlock of my presence. More will come,” the Blight replied.

  “We won’t be here when they come,” Magnus assured him, using a med-check device he had on his hip to seal up the wound.

  “But they won’t come back for you.”

  Magnus paused, thinking on where the Blight’s line of reasoning was heading.

  “I’m not leaving you out here to die.”

  “You have to,” the Blight replied. “They don’t know you’re here. Use that to your advantage and get out of here.”

  “Where would I even go? I’m staying with you,” Magnus replied, re-affirming his loyalty to the mission, and remembering that no man should ever be left behind.

  Before being able to respond, the Blight’s red eye slits powered off. Frantically, Magnus used his med-checker to scan for the stranger’s pulse and signs of life. Magnus realized that he had only lost consciousness, but his situation was still dire.

  “Naf, does his bio-suit come with nano-tech healing per chance?” Magnus inquired, hoping on the rare chance it did.

  Naf, who had been staring at his master with concern, looked up at him.

  “Y-yes. Much yes. Turned on now, Naf see.”

  Magnus was relieved to hear it. Stranded in the middle of nowhere, he could do little to help the stranger’s situation. With the nano-tech in his suit, however, he could be healed within a matter of minutes, so long as the armor remained sealed, and the stranger did not move. It was important that the stranger stayed untouched for that reason.

  “We’ll have to leave him here until the nano-tech has healed him,” Magnus stated, standing up.

  “But master’s warning. Much bad. Sashryrian come. Much bad,” Naf reminded him.

  “If they sent word back to Deathlock, then the typical protocol would have them check in with their men on the ground every five minutes. If no answer is sent, a new squad will be sent out . I imagine we’ll have about... let’s see... thirty minutes before they arrive,” Magnus replied, using his navigation and mental math skills to calculate their remaining window of time.

  “Master lost much blood. Much sleep. Need hydration. No time,” Naf continued, laying out the problems of the scenario plainly.

  Magnus rubbed his chin as he thought on Naf’s words, as well as the problem at hand. Thankfully, random patrols were not usually equipped with scout droids, so none of what had just occurred had been recorded or transmitted back to Deathlock. However, their enemy would soon be upon them.

  With the Blight in poor condition, travel was out of the question. Hiding, as Magnus had seen for himself, did no good against the raptors. Fighting off another hoard of Sashyrians would be suicide. It seemed that no option was workable. None, except maybe one.

  “Naf, help me find the most damaged biosuits, helmets, armors, and the like on these bodies,” Magnus commanded, pointing to the dead Sashyrians.

  “Much interesting. What for?”

  “Because I think I have an idea.”