Rial didn’t show his real abilities until the next day.

It was Tala’s turn to lug the cart, and she sweated under the heat of the first sun high overhead. The handles managed to force splinters into her palms even through the tightly-wound cloth that covered them. She hardly noticed.

The cracked soil on which they walked was becoming increasingly punctuated with patches of soft red moss, the same mats that grew anywhere if left long enough, but it was not the moss that worried her. A burning could be organised soon enough.

They were being stalked.

The silhouettes in the distance had been following them for hours now, hovering on the horizon and moving with the sun so that their numbers and forms were obscured by the blinding light. They counted at least seven or eight, and where you could see one there would likely be more.

Now it was past noon and the bandits were finally making their move, seizing the chance whilst their prey was at its weakest, exhausted and still some distance from the dubious safety of the forests. Even if they abandoned the goods Tala doubted they could make it to the trees before they were set upon.

She calmly released the cart and allowed it to settle into the dust and ash, laying her pack on the ground in front and drawing out her belt of knives. She did not hurry, and neither did the rest of her group.

Rakthi was coolly setting a row of six viciously barbed bolts into her handbow, her machete drawn and resting across her feet.[1] Hurstrom had already taken his huge double-headed axe from the cart and was swinging it in arcing curves across his front, stretching his muscles in readiness. Tala watched them as she loaded a bullet into the chamber of her rifle.

Karal was staring directly at the advancing group, teeth bared and his club pulled back in preparation for the first swing. The razor-edges sticking out from it glinted in the noonday sun.

“If we can, we talk them down,” said Tala firmly. “There’s enough of them to make it difficult for us.”

Indeed, there were as many as twelve now, bearded, grizzled men whose eyes glinted with malice under wide-brimmed leather hats. They smiled as they advanced, coming to a stop in a line a few meters away. Tala and the others formed a line facing them.

“Seems to me that you have something to share with us all,” drawled a man who must be the leader of the band. He nodded towards the cart, behind Tala’s group.

Karal laughed and spat on the ground at the foot of the bandit. At the same time, Rakthi raised her handbow and pointed it directly at the man’s temple.

“Now now, we’re not here for any unpleasantness, are we boys?” the man said, smile broadening as he did. He raised his hands in mock surrender, the only one of his group not holding a weapon. “But if we were to have any unpleasantness, it’d be a lot more unpleasant for you than it would be for us.”

It must have been a signal. Several of the men raised suddenly-revealed crossbows and pointed them towards the group, whilst another drew out a short-barrelled flintlock, brass ornately decorated from the handle to the end of its flared muzzle. Tala wanted that gun. She began almost unconsciously working on strategies to take it.

This was not good, though. Tala swore to herself. How had they managed to get themselves caught in this situation? True, it had been the worst of timings when they spotted the bandits but they still could have returned to the previous campsite, set themselves up a strong defence and taken control of the situation. Instead, here they could easily lose some of their own.

“We’re from a safe place a few days north of here,” said Tala, deliberately obfuscating the details and concentrating on keeping her voice low and level. “We could use a group as large as yours.”

The leader turned to his men, same broad smile as before.

“Whaddaya say, boys? Feel like givin’ up this wonderful life of ease and going to work with a bunch of hags?”

He turned back from the group, who had not moved.

“Sorry darling, but looks like we’re going to have to turn down your kind offer. Now,” he said, stepping forward towards Tala, “You give us the stuff and we’ll be on our way.”

He gave a grunt as his arm was twisted behind him, spinning him around so that he faced his men. Tala, who had moved almost faster than the eye could see, held the arm so that the pressure was only a little short of that required to break it, while her other hand held a wickedly curved knife to the man’s throat.

“Ah, come on darlin’, there’s no need for that kind of attitude now, is there?” The grin had not disappeared from his lips.

“You can keep your weapons, all except the gun. Give us that, and you can all walk away,” said Tala, eyes sweeping over the men. They had not reacted.

“Now, you don’t think we’ve survived out here by being as soft as all that, do you darl? All you’ve done is made them mad,” said the leader, somehow relaxed despite the blade digging deeper into his throat.

Rakthi and Karal moved at the same time, Rakthi kicking up an arcing spray of dust that flew into the eyes of the men closest to her, followed by a stream of bolts that took out first one than another bandit, both of whom fell to the floor dead. Another two men took bolts to the chest and arms but remained standing. Karal jumped forward and smashed the crossbow out of the hands of the man nearest to him, slicing neatly through a finger or two, but he wasn’t fast enough to dodge the bolt that pierced his leg, fired by another.

Hurstrom was not far behind, swinging his axe in broad strokes that sent one man tumbling and another two diving out of the way as arrows bounced off his bralla jacket.

Tala ducked behind her hostage at the same time as she slit his throat, feeling the hot blood stream over her fingers even as a bolt whistled through the space her head had just occupied.

“Get behind the cart!” she screamed, shoving the now dead body forward and rolling back at the same time.

They regrouped behind the cart seconds later, Karal cursing at the bolt in his leg. Hurstrom had been lucky; the flintlock owner had decided to compensate for the inaccuracy of his weapon by aiming for the hulking chest of his largest opponent, and the jacket had easily absorbed the shot. Nevertheless, he would be bruising badly underneath.

Rakthi crouched behind them, reloading her handbow as quickly as possible, which left only Tala to provide any sort of cover at range. She drew out the short-barrelled rifle from its holster at her side and held it over the top of the cart, not wanting to waste its one bullet but hoping it would dissuade the bandits from approaching for long enough for Rakthi to reload.

“We might be in a bit of trouble here,” said Hurstrom, wiping the blood from his axe.

Karal simply swore again.

They had taken out five of the enemy but now the element of surprise was gone, and without that…

It was only now that Tala realised someone was missing.

“Where’s Rial?” she said, looking around.

This was the first time she had had a chance to take stock of the situation. Tala realised she hadn’t seen Rial since everything began. Could he have taken a stray bolt?

Tentatively, she looked over the top of the cart.

Rial was walking steadily in a curious half-crouch towards the men from sunward, having managed to move around them unseen in the commotion. Only now did one of the bandits spot him, crying out a warning to his fellows. Rial was on that man in a second, a long leap at the beginning of which his sword was firmly in its sheath and by the end of which was drawn out and held between two hands at right angles to his body, ochre dripping from the end. The bandit crumpled, a deep cut through his side.

The other men wasted no time in turning to face this new threat, two crossbows keeping aim over the cart whilst the remainder faced Rial. Bolts flew through the air at regular intervals that Tala had to admire for the opportunity it allowed for others to reload, but Rial was never where the bolts landed. She had never seen anyone move like that; Tala knew she was fast, but she couldn’t have dodged like that. It wasn’t exactly speed; it was more as if he already knew where the bolts were going to go.

Three more bandits lay on the floor dead before the remaining few dropped their weapons and ran, sprinting out into the wastes as if all hell was on their heels. They would not get far without any way to defend themselves, Tala knew, but all that was on their minds now was escape.

Tala watched as the bandits disappeared into the distance.

“What are you?”

Tala turned at the question. Rakthi was standing, half-loaded handbow hanging from her hand as she stared in shock at Rial.

They all stood and watched as Rial wiped his sword clean using the corner of one of the fallen men’s cloth shirts, before nonchalantly resheathing his sword.

“Why did he call us ‘hags’?” asked Rial, looking up as if becoming aware of their presence for the first time.

Tala didn’t understand what he meant until the memory of the bandit leader’s words returned.

“Hags. Hagetak. They think we’re vultures,[2] hiding behind our walls and living off the dead and decaying remnants of our old world,” she answered.

Rial pondered this for a moment.

“And are you?” he said.

Karal spat to the side of where he sat, leg pulled up in an arch towards his shoulders so he could tie a bandage around the hole in his thigh.

“Does it matter?” he said, not looking away from his work.

Tala stared from Rial to the flintlock lying a few feet away from him, fallen from the open hands of its deceased owner. Matching his quizzical look with one of defiance, she strode over and picked the weapon up.

Karal hissed. “Stings like a needle in your krisk.”

Tala raised a hand to stop Rial’s inevitable vocabulary question.[3]

“That’ll be the alcohol,” she told Karal. “Don’t use too much, we need to save our reserves.”

Tala knew from experience that the alcohol-base iodine mixture burned like fire on small wounds and she didn’t want to think about how it must feel on the wound in Karal’s leg, but she also knew the man wouldn’t appreciate any sympathy. Best to take his mind off it.

“We’ll get that properly seen to once we get to Manorest,” Tala continued, as she strode over to the cart and placed both hands on the handles. She hefted it whilst trying to hide her exhaustion. “Come on everyone, only a couple more hours.”

Manorest was one of the closest settlements of any real size to the city. It had been a satellite town before the Wasting, and in many ways it still was. Strong walls and a spring near the centre had kept the town running almost as successfully as the city, though the red death had taken its toll more heavily. Recently it had become the first stop for every expedition heading eastwards, a place of relative safety in an ocean of threats, and as well as pure water the cart held a variety of sundry tools and goods requested by the town on their last visit.

“Manorest,” said Karal, hobbling over next to her and staring at the tree line ahead of them.

He spat once more at the ground.

Tala knew Karal didn’t like Manorest. It was too safe. Too stable, especially in the past few months.

They knew what they were looking for, and Tala was afraid they were going to find it.

The truth of the eyes could not be hidden.

[1] Rial had been very interested in the machete, borrowing it off Rakthi at any opportunity. At first, Tala had thought the man must be searching for some reason to talk with her friend and she felt vaguely embarrassed for him. It was only after some time that she realised he was genuinely fascinated with testing the heft and weight of the thing.

[2] The hagetak were the only extant species of vultures Tala knew of

[3] His mouth was already opening to ask.