Everything was fine.

  Jake, Fig, and I were headed to Shade, while Elora, Akilah, and Frag had set their sights on the Den. We met at the Colosseum and started out together. The blue sun beat down on our heads as we got to the field of ominous holes and walked between cavern entrances, treading the barren rock and dusty paths.

  A stone crunched under my heel and pinged away into shadow. I lifted my chin to the wind, letting it blow back hair that had escaped from the leather strap I’d used to tie some of it back. Breeze cut across cavern entraces, making howling, moaning sounds that set my jaw in a clench.

  I led the way, my impatient stride pulling me forward. I didn’t like walking in a cluster.

  That saved my hide.

  The first warning was a whistle. I dropped low and darted to the side, spinning to scan the area. A flash—the sharp crack of glass exploding. Shards burst outward, ringing like broken chimes as they peppered the stone in a rain of glittering crystal.

  I couldn’t see where it came from.

  A glance shot to the others: Jake’s wings sparkled, embedded with the tiny slivers as he stood hunched over Fig. Akilah’s sleeve shimmered with blood-speckled shards as she lowered her arm. Her staff appeared in her hand, anger twisting her features. Elora escaped with one bloody scratch, having scampered toward the lip of a cavern entrance. Frag already had his rifle up, slowly turning, his scalp oozing a pinkish substance.

  “Did anyone see anything?”

  Jake: “Fuck no. Fuck that fucker and his fucking glass grenades.”

  Seemed Jake was mad. He divided his attention between looking for danger and checking on Fig, who had escaped unscathed. His med kit appeared in his hand as I pivoted, eyes on the the bumps of stone that marked cavern entrances. Whoever it was could've been lurking in any one of them, moving through the tunnels below to reach another position.

  Akilah: “It’s not glass. It’s like quartz or some kind of silica.”

  That was cute. Someone threw currency around as a weapon. The wind stirred up a small dust eddy that vanished. I studied that spot intently, looking for signs of anything that would have given away the guerrilla attacker.

  Fig: “It could be someone from Silica. Perhaps that was a warning shot?”

  Elora: “Rude. If I get a scar from that, I’m gonna be so mad. I just spent too much on the last one.”

  I glanced her way as she lingered in the shadow of a cavern entrance, her back to the stone, eyes darting. She fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist, the gemstone that dangled from the chain glinted. I went back to scanning the surrounding entrances and the paths between. The attack was as delightful a surprise as finding a bone in a fish fillet. Probably felt worse for the others, though.

  Frag: “No indications of the enemy. Trajectory suggests it came from north of us, by that cavern.”

  “Jake, you all patched up? Akilah, you okay?”

  Jake flexed his batlike wings and shot me a thumbs up. Akilah scoffed and glanced at her bloodied sleeve, brushing a hand down her robe to knock the rest of the silica splinters free. I looked to Elora. She nodded. I followed Frag’s line of sight toward the cave and drew Baneheart. I’d foregone the badly burned tactical vest; thought I wouldn’t need it to gather ghost giggles.

  Mistakes were made.

  I stalked forward, ears humming with the wind and silence, straining to catch the slightest sound that would lead me to a target. Nothing.

  I peered into the dark of a cavern entrance, muscles tensed, ready to react. Nothing.

  Sidestepping, I crept to the next. Tilted my head enough to look in. Nothing.

  I drew in a breath and let it out slowly. I glanced back at the others and shook my head. Maybe it was some douche that saw us, decided to take a cheap shot, and ran. Slightly more dangerous than say, a burning sack of dog crap, but it hadn’t done any of us serious damage. I checked my party status. Jake had taken the worst of it, at a 10HP drop. Hardly fatal.

  A scent tickled my nose. Ozone, at first sweet, like air after a storm, and then pungent, stabbing the inside of my sinuses. I whipped around, looking into the cave beside me. A glimmer, like light on a blade’s edge, was all I saw, before a sting bit into my arm [Critical Hit: Laceration Bleed (12s) -15] [Bleed 50% og. dmg.]. I barely noted the message as the surprise attack burst bright pain a second later. A gust of wind blasted past, dense with something more than air.

  Messages pushed onto my HUD. Not from my System link, but Frag’s, which had never happened before with anyone, and I had no time to ask questions.

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  [Environmental Alert: volatile energy signature in range]

  [Tactical Instincts: Hostile Presence].

  Blood sprayed the rock beside me, drops pattering to the ground. My gaze snapped up, back to the group.

  Frag aimed his rifle but didn’t fire into the mass of us. His voice cut the silence, “Ambush!”

  Akilah screamed, flailing her staff. I could track the path of the thing, but not the attacker itself—just a shimmer—a glint of sunlight on something that shouldn’t be there.

  My lips peeled back in a snarl, and I roared. [Intimidate]

  Jake went down. His surprised grunt got knocked out of him, wings flaring and collapsing, knocked back by the unseen assailant. Fig turned toward Jake. A dark gash appeared on her back as she fell. Elora shrieked, pushing herself into the stone wall, as if she could meld into it to escape as a cross-cross of slashes opened on her forearms. Defensive wounds. Frag’s arm jerked. His rifle whipped up and around for a butt strike—but there was nothing there. He struck nothing.

  His jacket was slashed, and it took a second to recognize what I saw. It wasn’t just his clothes, but his flesh. I processed the image. Metal ribs peeked through the spill of his strange, pinkish blood. Fuck me.

  It made me not want to look at my wounded arm. I could only feel pain. My hand was numb. My HP was ticking down fast, and so was everyone else’s. That made me shudder with rage.

  [Furyguard STR +25]

  The passive ability flared, useless. There was nothing to hit.

  “Show yourself, you gutless skraefa!” I bellowed, desperate to pound something into the dirt. I slashed Baneheart with my off-hand, the one that still worked. I sniffed the air, seeking the sharp burn of ozone.

  I turned southeast and looked up. The fresh breeze scent was…

  Soft tinkling laughter rippled from the mound of stone in front of me—like glasses clinked, a wet finger rubbed along the rim, the soft vibration of resonance when someone speaks and a wine glass responds. That was what it sounded like.

  Distortion resolved into form, terrible and alien; it crouched spider-like at the summit of the stone mound, crystalline body dazzling in the sunlight. Smoothly it rose up, its gleaming eyes like cold fire on us. Looking down on us like it was admiring its work. It had two thick forearms the same length as its back legs, with branched growths coming up out of its back that wrapped around its core torso.

  The joints moved smoothly, impossibly fluid for something like a living prism. The way its one arm arranged, it looked like it was bowing, a mockery of courtesy—more like an executioner’s greeting. The air flickered around it, and it was gone.

  The scent of it, the sense of it. Vanished.

  “It—it spoke,” Elora whispered, hugging herself in the shade. She slid to a crouch, her eyes closed.

  I turned. Akilah was crouched beside Jake.

  Jake.

  Fuck.

  I dashed over and dropped to my knees. Fig knelt beside him, patting his knee. He had a stab wound, thankfully on the opposite side from his heart, his breath came in sucking gasps, gurgling sound rattling in his throat. His med kit lay on the ground by his hand.

  “Just relax, buddy,” I murmured. “You’ll still have all your five lives.”

  I was no doctor, but it seemed like his lung was punctured. The other should have been fine, so he wasn’t in danger of dying right away. I shot a glance around. We were maimed. A low growl rumbled in my chest, a rage purr that didn’t stop as I groped in his kit for med pads to patch us all up.

  Akilah had a slash on her forehead that she’d somehow defended against bisecting her features. Elora’s arms were bad, so was Fig’s back, but Frag got it worst of us. I pulled out a pad and tore it open with my teeth, slapping it over my still bleeding arm. I grabbed a few more and got up, nodding to Akilah. I trusted her to keep her head.

  Frag swayed on his feet, rifle butt braced to the ground to help keep him upright.

  I grumbled to myself as I went over to him. “Sure, the cops can show up when we’re dealing in illegal relics, but where the fuck are they when a player killer shows up? Nowhere. Typical.”

  “You’re gonna need a hand,” I said, getting around him to pull back the tattered parts of his jacket. My stomach churned at the visual. He wouldn’t be doing any crunches for a while, but it wasn’t life-threatening. Hard to say, with those metal ribs. He was a cyborg or something, so any comparison I could make to a regular person’s insides wouldn’t quite suit him.

  He didn’t move while I plastered him with med pads. “Can you walk?”

  “Ambulatory,” he murmured. “Symbiot?”

  “That’s my plan.”

  Akilah appeared at my elbow. “I’ve got them all patched.”

  I glanced down at her patched up head and the rumbling in my chest increased. I couldn’t unleash this desire to smash something, so it sat there and burned. Refined.

  “You got him?” I tipped my head toward Frag, who’d already started staggering in the direction of Symbiot.

  I scanned the area, but there was no sign of the PKer, sniffed the air, but it was dry, clear of ozone. If that piece of shist had a griefer’s mentality, it would follow us and hit us again, and soon. We were closer to the sheriff’s office than Symbiot.

  Jake couldn’t walk on his own. We’d been fish in a barrel when we were in top condition. My initial thought, Symbiot, though the most direct to medical attention, was the wrong call. I kept my lips shut, to avoid giving away our plans to any gemstone asshole that might be listening.

  “We head for Thorn Ridge. We have to take our chances with the deputies. If that player killer shows up before we get help, we’re done.”

  Akilah: “Got it.”

  Frag: “Copy.”

  I returned to Jake. My wounded arm wouldn’t support much by itself, so I pulled my trusty rope out of inventory. I dropped to my knees beside Jake.

  “Fig, Elora, I’ll get my good arm under Jake, you two, do what you can to bind my other arm up under his legs so I can carry him.”

  They were wounded but patched, and feeling some of the pain-killing effects of the med patches. As a team, we got Jake up into my arms. I clenched my teeth against the blinding agony of having my wounded arm drawn up and roped in place, but it had to be done. Jake was pretty light, all things considered. His weight didn't hurt as much as I imagined it would. The med pad on my forearm helped. The lack of one on my upper arm sucked. I got to my feet, and we started the walk to Thorn Ridge.

  I hoped we’d make it there before that chunk of cheap jewelry realized where we’d gone.

  -ARCHIVE-