Anri spent the rest of the day preparing for his journey: stocking up on potions, making tempest vials, fitting his silverite Jack-of-All crossbow to his half-arm, and ensuring his dual blade was sharp and ready to go.

  He slept lightly until evening then rose when the moon was high and applied his Lost in Shadows stealth skill to easily slip out of the Templar Spire and along the city streets to make his exit.

  The wasteland desert felt like ice at night, with his head beneath his enchanter hood he was able to keep the chill off his face. The hood also ensured his health and body heat remained at a constant and comfortable level as he trekked toward the northeast plains for the thin line of hills at the distance.

  He saw flickers of faint torch light and used them to guide his way as he kept track of the crescent moon's position.

  So far he was able to move in stealth and avoid dangers, but with his stamina waning, his presence was slowly being revealed. A few hyenas caught a whiff of his scent and did a made sprint toward him.

  "Here we go." He unhooked his blade and said an affirmation of strength.

  The hyenas leapt with teeth showing.

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  He swung his blade. Dashed. Striked down. A head fell cleanly to the ground. He used the headless body as a stepping stool as he pushed up and did an air roll, spinning his blade down on the head of another of the four-legged beasts. Another beast's head rolled of its body. The remaining hyenas caught new blood scents and went into a frenzied feast upon the fresh corpses.

  Anri made his escape, sprinting in the direction of the solid moonlight. It was when he felt other beasts couldn't detect his scent did he slow down. Relief was short.

  Whistling on the breeze stroked his cheeks to throw back his hood. He felt the rush of an arrow folly descending upon him.

  He ducked, dived and rolled to avoid arrow pierces, but he couldn't evade them all. He yelped when one went into his good arm to make him drop his blade.

  A boot kicked him hard. He rolled about the sand and dirt. The boot pressed his face into the ash soil, causing him to gag and struggle for breath.

  "Ain't this a pretty sight. This dumb-fuck elf might get Kalias's blood pumping."

  Anri's head was yanked back by the hair with pressure on his back to keep him pinned. Through his blurred vision he saw four pairs of roguish leather boots.

  "He's good-looking for an elf. Shame. Slavers could get top dollar making him a sex slave." Anri growled at the sick mannish voice heating his ear.

  "Not worth angering the magister. Put him with the others. I'm sure our friend will have fun with him."

  Anri was knocked out cold.