“We are being followed,” said Mead, at the start of another day on the plains.

Rial jumped as the weapon suddenly spoke. They had said little to each other the past few days, content to settle into a routine of hunting and cooking that made the time pass swiftly.

Rial had taken to hunting after Mead told him about its limited ‘charges.’ The weapon believed it had only ten to twenty more shots left, depending on the size and tenacity of its target.[1] After that they would need to either find a charging unit, whatever that was and if one remained to be found, or rely on the gradual assimilation of background radiation. Apparently this assimilation was a very slow process, taking months to build back even a single charge.

Hunting on the plains was a very different affair to hunting within the forests, Rial had found. Back there, the careful study of tracks and placements of traps was paramount, followed by large amounts of patience. Here, it was enough to stand exposed and alone on an elevated vantage point. Very soon an enraged grakar or kabuto would come charging over the horizon, ready to take advantage of the foolishly prominent morsel. It took a steady nerve to face down the charging beast, but Rial was emboldened by the knowledge that should anything go wrong Mead would swiftly ‘neutralise’ the creature, as it put it. His spear, crafted from thick strips of discarded timbre and rope found at the remains of an old campsite, was now a deep crimson with the blood of the beasts.

“We are being followed,” repeated the weapon.

Rial scanned the horizon, seeing nothing but the emptiness of the plains stretching into the distance, all the way to the horizon in one direction and into the cloud-covered mountains in the other.

“There’s no one here,” said Rial.

“I am afraid that is incorrect. We have been tracked for the past day. I waited to tell you until I could confirm this was the case, and not simply a nearby traveller crossing our path.”

“Where are they?” asked Rial, tense.

“He. It is an adult male of advanced age. He is 260 metres sunwards.”

Rial turned sunwards. The plains rolled ahead, revealing nothing but the coarse, dry vegetation that covered every direction.

He opened his mouth to correct Mead, then closed it again.

Mead had ways of detecting things Rial couldn’t fathom. He decided it would be better to trust the machine for now.

Advancing cautiously, Mead held tightly in his left hand, Rial made his way sunwards, seeing nothing.

Except…

There was an odd protrusion on the ground further ahead, the same brown-grey colour as the rest of the plains but, now it was closer, clearly not the same material.

It shifted as Rial came closer.

“Can’t lay a drirukar on you, can we boy?”

Rial recognised the figure as Hamist, the old man from the outpost a lifetime ago, as he stood up, plains-coloured groundsheet he had hidden underneath tumbling over his shoulders and down onto the floor.

“What are you doing here, Hamist?” Rial asked.

“My question for you, boy. You some kind of wizard now, it looks.”

Rial stared at the old man.

Hamist’s face was covered in dust, his hair knotted and unkempt. He looked burnt, as if he had been baking in the sun.

“What are you doing here, Hamist?” Rial repeated.

“A’right, a’right. Old fiery bugger sent me, didn’ he? Was meant to get you back the first chance I got. Followed you all the way to the slave market, I did. Saw your little magic show, and must admit almost wet meself. Been try’ to track you down since then.”

Hamist came no closer as he spoke. For all his words, he was clearly wary of approaching Rial.

“Brin sent you?” said Rial.

“ ‘course he did. Sent me before you two even set off. I was meant to follow that lot what took you and look for a chance to get you out.”

“But you didn’t!”

Hamist held his hands out wide.

“What, this old geezer? What was I meant to do, walk in there and let you escape whilst they beat me to death? No boy, much easier to free a slave once he is a slave. Was gonna wait until that fat boy took you to his factory or flesh-house or whatever then get you out from there. Sorry…”

Hamist’s gaze dropped and he did look genuinely apologetic.

“…couldn’t do nothing ‘bout the beatings I knew you’d get. Brin said you could take it, though.”

So Brin had made a plan to get him back? But how was a single old man meant to free him? And why didn’t he just tell Rial what was going to happen? Rial would be certain to make him explain once he got back to the village.

Rial pondered that thought, and realised that, yes, he was going back.

“So, uh… you a demon-spawn or what? Only, I saw you turn a handful of men to ash in an eyeblink, I did. Then by the time the whole market was done tearing itself apart you were gone. Teleport out did you?”

“No,” replied Rial. “I walked out.”

Hamist laughed nervously.

“Ah, that you probably did. Took me a while to find your trail again, what with all the panic and wailing and that, then thought… well, why hurry? Seems like you had a few anger issues to work out.”

“It’s fine Hamist, you can relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” said Rial.

Hamist relaxed somewhat, but his eyes flicked nervously to the weapon in Rial’s hands. Rial realised Hamist wasn’t even sure this was the cause of the sudden destruction he had witnessed.

Mead was keeping quiet in front of the old man, and Rial thought it was better that way.

“I’m not a wizard, nor a demon. I don’t think there are such things, Hamist. What happened at the market I can’t explain, but you have nothing to fear from me.”

“Eh, easy for you to say, that. Didn’t see yourself fry a man to dust, did you?”

Still, Hamist relaxed further, gathering up his fallen groundsheet and the pack that lay underneath.

“You’ve been looking for me all this time?” Rial asked.

“Yes, boy, I have, and a long journey it has been too,” sighed the old man. “Still, don’t have any other place to be, now.”

“What? Why not?” said Rial.

“Been hearing some bad things ‘bout the old town, I have. Seems things have gone from bad to worse these past days. Executions more or less every morn, and more asides. Was the same in the city. There’s drought and poor harvest from coast to mountain, and tales of war comin’ closer. You won’t of seen it, course, being strung up for sale an’ all, but the city walls are bursting with refugees. Dark days, these is.”

Rial wondered how Hamist managed to get news so far out in the plains. A question for another time, he decided.

“Why didn’t you approach me sooner?” Rial asked.

“Only tracked you again yesterday, then figured I’d check you weren’t obviously dangerous before revealing meself.”

Hamist’s eyes turned to the remains of the grakar, rib cage still smoking over last night’s embers.

“Nice bit of hunting, that,” he said. “Not’s many as can kill a full-grown one by themselves.”

“What do you plan to do, Hamist?” asked Rial. “I freed myself, as you can see. You don’t have any reason to keep following me.”

“Ah, there is that fact an’ all,” replied Hamish, looking thoughtful. “But you see, turning up without you wouldn’t go down well with old fieriness at all.”

“You’re meant to take me back to Brin? To the village?”

“No, boy. He should be waiting for us at the base of the mountains, where they left your wounded friend. ‘course, he might not be there no more. Could be out looking for you himself.”

Hamist turned serious.

“He didn’t want to do it, you know. But your poxy village and its bloody rules didn’t give him any other choice. Remember that when you see him next, a‘right boy?”

Suddenly the roguish character Rial first met back in the town returned.

“Now, I’m famished. Been eating dried crackers for the past week, nothing but crumbs and dust. You gonna rustle us up something or laze around all day? Got a long walk ahead of us.”

[1] Rial had asked what would happen if all that energy were released at once, and Mead replied by asking if Rial liked the continent he was currently standing on.