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Chapter 2: Krazoa Palace

The bouncing, rough ride through torrential rain and thousands of feet worth of drop stretched long enough that I slowly became accustomed to it. The thought of falling to certain demise kept its iron grip on me, but I wasn’t quite as paralyzed by it as I had been. Instead, my thoughts wandered to the impossible circumstances I found myself in, centered around one big question: How was I going to get home?

The rain had long since soaked through most of my clothing; my leather jacket the only thing making the trip even borderline tolerable. I had made sure to pack the more sensitive items in my backpack inside sealed bags, hopefully preventing damage to the electronics and ammunition inside. Krystal’s fur was drenched and a quick glance to her face revealed the obvious truth that she was also quite miserable. There was no use trying to speak; the howling wind and bitter cold cut to the bone and it was all either of us could do to ride it out.

Minutes or hours passed; I really couldn’t tell. A looming shade in the darkness appeared; the pitch night sky revealing points of light and the edifice of a giant building. The Cloudrunner squawked at Krystal, who shouted back. It looked like we had reached our destination.

Within a brief moment we had landed; the pterosaur perching on a large balcony leading into the building. I slid off with shaky legs, nodding to our chauffeur as he regarded my soaked, shivering frame. He launched into a brief conversation with Krystal as I stepped forward, surveying the area.

This was different in the game; there was a decided lack of fuel barrels stacked around in convenient places. There were also no floating, betentacled beasts waiting to snare us, either. There were a few crates stacked against the stone wall and a large door leading into the building. Either the Cloudrunner dropped us off elsewhere or my mental map of Krazoa Palace was going to be absolutely zero help.

“This is Krazoa Palace, stranger.” Krystal’s voice came from behind me, causing me to startle. If she noticed my spasm, she didn’t comment on it. “I know you were just released from Scales’ captivity, but it is important we find out what is going on here.” I turned around to face her, noting the look of sheer determination on her vulpine features. “This is a dangerous place for outsiders. Please stick close to me; I will do my best to protect you.” She hefted the short sword she had acquired from the slain Sharpclaw, brandishing it with purpose.

“I’ll try not to get in the way, then.” I replied, following her to the large stone door. Between the two of us we were able to push it open; the portal grinding open on less than silent hinges. At least this was our reprieve from the rain. The corridor beyond was well lit with torches lining the walls; the added warmth was quite welcome after our foray. To my mild surprise the Cloudrunner darted in after us, also seeking shelter from the deluge. ‘Well, at least we’re not getting soaked anymore.”

“I agree, stranger.” The young vixen replied, glancing at her sodden fur. “May I ask you to avert your gaze? I’m going to travel a bit farther to shake the excess water out.” I nodded and turned around as she walked further down the corridor. The thought occurred to me that I should attempt to do the same.

“Same request applies to you! Going to wring some of my clothes out.” The stiff clinging sensation of my jeans against my legs outweighed any embarrassment from undressing within potential eyeshot of others. Wringing out my sodden clothes helped somewhat; I flat out hated being cold. Adding ‘wet’ to that category didn’t really help things either. I dressed as quickly as I could; zipping my jacket up to ward off the slight chill that still permeated the air.

Krystal returned after a moment, still looking as cold and soaked as I felt. She exchanged some words with the Cloudrunner before gesturing to me. “May I speak freely, stranger?” I nodded. “My name is Krystal Sallas, of Clan Sallas. I am a refugee from the destruction of my homeworld of Cerinia. This planet is in great danger. There is great power here; powers which must be held in check by four Spellstones and the Krazoa Spirits that bind them together. General Scales, the one who held you captive, has stolen the Spellstones to access this power for himself. Without the Spellstones to provide barrier energy, this planet will soon fall apart.” She paused for a moment, gauging my reaction.

“That much I’ve gathered from my short time here.” I responded, keeping an active watch down the hall. “I’m not from this planet, but I’m trapped here. I’m assuming the same applies to you.” I extended a hand towards her, which she looked at quizzically. “The name’s Adam Strayton. I come from a planet called Earth. I didn’t arrive here under normal means, and I’m trying to find a way back home.” I withdrew my hand, casting a sheepish grin at my vulpine ally. “That said; I’ll try to help you out as best I can with this. I need to warn you, however. I’m no soldier. Going toe to toe with those lizardmen isn’t something I’ll be able to help you with.”

The vixen’s expression grew somewhat quizzical, her voice still slightly possessed of the raspy quality with her earlier brush with death. “May I ask how you defeated Scales? To call someone of his skill formidable would be an understatement.” Her tail twitched erratically as she finished, somewhat nervously expecting an answer.

I wasn’t happy about revealing my ace in the hole, but I figured she deserved my being upfront with her. “I carry a pistol for self-defense.” Her quizzical expression crossed over into the realm of outright confusion, at least until after I slid my piece out of its holster.

“You have a blaster?” Her voice grew hushed, as if I held some sort of forbidden artifact. “The red ones had those; they are weapons of immense power. If you are skilled in their use, we will have a chance against the Sharpclaw hordes. You say you are not a warrior?”

“This isn’t a blaster, at least not quite.” I corrected. “This is what my people call a firearm. It is similar in concept to a blaster, but fires small metal projectiles at great speed. The problem is that I do not have many projectiles.” I popped the magazine out, making sure I had in fact exchanged it after the scuffle with Scales; I also kept a mental track of how many rounds I fired. The young Cerinian seemed transfixed on the weapon as I readied it once more and slid it back into its holster. “I have a total of seventy-six rounds, and I want to make sure to make them count. After those are gone I’m completely useless to you in combat.”

Krystal nodded at me, hefting the short sword she held. It looked somewhat crude and ill-balanced, but she wielded it with more confidence than I did my Glock. “You have no training with traditional arms such as the sword or staff? Do your people not value martial skills?” Her tone of voice was more curious than condescending; I could tell she was having trouble understanding what I assumed was a major dissonance in skillset.

“Those sorts of skills are viewed more as a hobby among my people. The military of my world fight primarily with weapons like these, but additionally train in unarmed combat and the use of knives. I’m not skilled in either.” I kept an eye and an ear open for any potential intrusion on our conversation; frankly this wasn’t the best place for it. I could tell Krystal was doing the same, which was somewhat comforting. I had attended a convention panel a few years back that was more or less an introduction to LARPing. The main event was a skirmish using foam swords. I had been interested but performed miserably; being tagged almost instantly by a minimally trained opponent. “I’m going to level with you, Krystal. I’ll probably wipe the floor with these Sharpclaw if I have a gun and sufficient ammunition for it. If they get up close, I’ll be gutted like a fish within seconds. If you’ll get up close and personal I’ll back you up if you need it. Deal?”

The vixen gave a polite smile. “I can agree with that, Mr. Strayton. Shall we proceed?” She conducted a quick conversation in Saurian with the Cloudrunner standing behind us. “Kyte will stay back in this hall in case we need him. Once we’re done here he will take us to a safe place.” She started off down the hall, the steps of her sandals echoing above the soft rubber soles of the Danner hiking boots I had purchased for my ill-fated camping trek. I lagged behind her and off to the side, making sure I had a clear line of fire. My thoughts turned to the supplies in my RAV4. If I could find out where it was, I could get my hands on the other guns I had brought and ammo for them. That would drastically increase my chances of survival. If not, getting my hands on a crossbow or something would be a priority. For now, I would have to just wing it.

The darkened hallway terminated at a large, circular room with some sort of raised dais in the center. The macabre centerpiece was the hulking body off to one side; the remains of an Earthwalker which had received the full brunt of the Sharpclaws’ abuse. Krystal gasped as she walked up to the departed guardian. I could tell she was trying not to break out in tears. I wasn’t able to hide my revulsion as I saw the wounds on the body. It looked like the poor bastard had been through a meat grinder. The cause of death was obvious; a broken polearm stuck out from the Saurian’s throat; the rest of the snapped wooden shaft discarded in the thick crimson pool which had grown out from underneath him. The sickening scent of blood was overpowering; this had to be a recent killing. Something didn’t quite sit right with me, however.

Krystal’s voice beat me to the punch; her sadness mixed with her recovering raspiness to create a quiet, surreal tone. “Those wounds on his side. I’ve never seen them before.” She was right; they were pretty much craters. They would have been fatal wounds to either of us, but on the massive Saurian they were comparatively minor. They almost looked like…

“Stay here for a minute and keep sharp. I’ve got a hunch that I really hope doesn’t pan out.” I pulled my phone out and checked the battery. I had about seventy percent remaining, which was shored up by disabling the wireless and cellular modems. I sincerely doubted Sauria had cellular towers or APs to connect to. My phone, however, made a passable flashlight in lieu of the full-powered unit that I should be saving for emergencies. I scanned the room, keeping my right hand close to my piece as I did so. A few minutes later I found what I alternately expected and hoped not to find. I scooped the two objects from the floor and examined them as I made my way back to Krystal.

“We have a problem.” I tossed one of the objects to her; she caught it with practiced ease. Her curious glance at the combination of metal and plastic was apparent. She sniffed at it, her nose wrinkling as she did so.

“What is it, Adam?” She inquired as I took a sniff of my own, taking in the familiar, almost comforting scent. However, this particular discovery presented a very disturbing set of questions.

“These are spent shotgun shells; used ammunition from a powerful short-range firearm. Someone went to town on our unfortunate friend over there.” I winced. Despite the bizarre situation I had some empathy; that Earthwalker didn’t die a clean death. “I have a shotgun in my vehicle but these are double-aught; I use a combination of birdshot and number-four buckshot for target practice. These aren’t my shells, so they aren’t using my guns. I can think of only two ways this played out.”

Krystal’s answer was somewhat surprising. “Either a Sharpclaw has a weapon of your peoples’ design or someone like you is aiding the Sharpclaw.” I nodded at her, tossing the spent shell aside. This was a fly in the ointment; a monkey in the wrench. On the bright side it meant that there might be other people here; hopefully ones who weren’t too keen on picking up a gun and helping the unfriendly neighborhood lizardmen.

“Pretty much. That doesn’t really make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, either.” I responded, putting my phone away in preference for my Glock. “If we come across someone with a gun, seek cover and let me deal with it. A stone column or something like that would suffice. Buckshot probably wouldn’t pass through a Sharpclaw if it came down to that.”

The vixen nodded; her sword brandished much as I was my piece. “Stay alert. The Sharpclaw must still be here. If we can help the Earthwalkers repel them, it will make our task far less difficult. Scales is seeking one of the Krazoa Spirits rumored to make its home here. If we can deny him the Spirit, we may stand a chance at stabilizing the planet.”

“Got it.” I responded, glancing around the area. “Any idea where we need to go?” We had a few different paths to follow. The palace definitely wasn’t going to be nearly as linear as it was in the game. Splitting up wasn’t a particularly good idea. While I was sure I could handle some Sharpclaw as long as my ammo held out, I wasn’t particularly sure how well I’d handle being shot at. That possibility wasn’t very remote.

She pointed towards a stone archway on our left. “If this is laid out like one of our Grand Temples, I believe we need to head this way. That should lead us to the…” She broke off for a split moment, lost in thought. “We call it the Hothega. I’m unsure what it would be called in your language.” She started towards the archway, motioning for me to follow. I remained at a slight distance, trying to maintain spacing and as clear a field of fire as possible. I wasn’t an expert, but a few in-depth concealed carry training courses combined with a long-abandoned Airsoft hobby gave me at least a rudimentary knowledge of how to fight with a handgun. To her credit Krystal seemed to understand what I was doing, making sure to keep out of any obvious lines of fire.

Other than the crackle of flames emitted from torches that lined the walls, the only sounds were the echoes from our footsteps. The silence was unnerving; the jumping shadows offering more areas for a potential ambush to happen. I kept a tight grip on my Glock, leading with the weapon’s sights where I could. The dull emerald glow from the Tritium dots helped provide a frame of reference in the dim environment; I didn’t want to give away our position by using the flashlight. More than once my finger slipped onto the trigger, only to realize that what I was about to shoot was the bas-relief carving of a Krazoa. My vulpine ally looked back at me and nodded silently as we continued along, wired for a fight I wasn’t sure would happen. I didn’t quite understand what that meant; an acknowledgment of my actions or an attempt at reassuring me? I couldn’t tell.

The path ended in a much better-lit chamber; golden walls reflecting the torchlight. The whole place was about the size of a living room, housing a circular platform that wouldn’t be much larger than a queen-sized bed. Krystal examined the walls; I figured she could read the strange language upon them. I made myself as useful as I could, which amounted to aiming my handgun back down the route we had come from.

I couldn’t see much, but I figured I’d get enough warning to get a shot off before we were rushed. I forced the discomfort of my sodden clothes and the surreal feeling of the situation out of my mind; my only points of concentration were the soft emerald glow of my Glock’s night sights and the gentle pressure of my right index finger against the polymer frame. I maintained enough fire discipline to keep my finger off the trigger.

I could hear Krystal muttering in an unknown language; it didn’t even sound like the Saurian speech from the games. Her lilting voice was hushed, but I still kept my attention on the hallway. I didn’t really like being trapped. I wasn’t even really sure what to think of this new paradigm, other than I wanted to be home. This felt too real to be a dream; too detailed to be a hallucination.

Krystal’s voice became louder, this time speaking in English. “The dialect is very archaic, yet all of this is in my native language. The native Saurians do not speak this.” I could tell she was somewhat confused; to me that meant she spoke several languages fluently. Did she pick up English as quickly as I had been speaking it? It made absolutely no sense. “This room is a Warp conduit; a way to quickly access other areas of the Palace. I’m pretty sure I can tap into it.”

“That’s some good news.” I replied, keeping my eyes down the darkened entrance hall. “I’ll keep watch while you figure it out.” I was startled out of my task by Krystal’s hand winding around my shoulder.

“I could risk leaving you behind. Please, join me on the platform?” She tugged me towards the raised platform in the center. As I stepped on I could feel the temperature suddenly get much warmer. It wasn’t unpleasant; the warmth warding off the chill from my soaked clothing quite nicely. I wasn’t going to complain out loud, but I was still very wary of whatever could come barging down that hall.

“Give me your hand.” Her voice was firm yet friendly, noticing my hesitation at pulling my attention away. “Trust me.” She flashed a smile as she held her hand out. I took a deep breath and put my pistol back in its holster; reaching out to wind my hand around hers. I could feel the warmth of her grip, despite the dampness of her fur. “Good. Just hold on for a moment and do not panic.”

Panic? Was there reason to panic? I stiffened a split instant before the world vanished in a warm glow of molten gold. The sensation of pins and needles swam through my entire body before the sensation of melting away overcame everything. That was the only way I could describe it; my only point of reference that felt solid was Krystal’s hand around mine. To call the experience disorienting would be like calling the Pacific Ocean a small pond, or Los Angeles a mere village.

The disorientation washed away as if it were a tide which swept away from my mind. However, in its wake came a wave of nausea; if I had anything on my stomach I would have thrown it up. I started dry heaving, turning away from the platform and taking a rather ungraceful tumble off the edge. “What happened? Are you okay?” I felt Krystal grasping my shoulder and arm, trying to pull me to my feet. She succeeded in that endeavor, though my balance didn’t make that particular act easy. I blinked as I regained my footing, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

We were in the same gilt chamber before. Or were we? The exit revealed another small chamber; its only exit a ladder which looked like a good forty or fifty feet climb. My queasiness wasn’t helped any by that; heights were definitely not my thing. Krystal’s grip on my shoulder tightened a bit, startling me slightly. She bore a worried expression. “Whatever happened did not go easy on my stomach. I’d rather stay away from that in the future.” I understood fully that I’d be subject to this experience at least a few more times; hopefully I would get used to it enough to not puke my guts out at the same time a Sharpclaw had a chance to put me out of my misery. “Looks like the only way is up. Give me a moment and I’ll go up first.”

The vixen’s concerned expression caught me off guard. “If there’s someone at the top of that ladder, you will be in no position to fight them. Are you sure you wish to do this?” She pointed to the ladder, then to the sword on her belt. “I’m unable to sense anyone here. Something is interfering with my ability to do so.” She hadn’t mentioned those abilities before, though I fully recalled that she had them.

“In the interest of being polite, yes.” I motioned to her decided lack of clothing. “If I’m climbing that ladder underneath you, you’re giving me a view you shouldn’t be giving anyone until at least the fifth date, if you catch my meaning.” The vixen’s eyes widened as a mortified expression grew on her vulpine features. I headed her off at the pass, shaking my head. “To be as clear as I can possibly be about this, I’m only interested in my survival and finding a way back home. I’m not particularly interested in chasing your tail.” I was too tired to be completely professional, but I was pretty sure she could gauge my intent, or lack of it.

Krystal’s blush was pretty clearly visible; a deep flush to the insides of her ears. “You… make a good point. Thank you for your discretion.” She pointed to the ladder. “You seem uneasy about this. I won’t be far.”

“Thanks.” My response was clipped and terse as I made my way to the ancient ladder; the rungs worn smooth with time and untold amounts of use. I mentally braced myself as I started climbing; forcing myself to not look up or down. Even then I was well aware of the fact that if I fell off it was over. I had absolutely no intention to die here. I grit my teeth as I continued, making sure to be careful and deliberate. I made an attempt to keep the fear of falling off out of my mind, but I wasn’t all that successful.

I did eventually reach my goal, essentially flopping onto the ledge at the top like a fish out of water. I took a few deep breaths as I surveyed the corridor beyond; I recognized it from the game. Golden walls reflected torchlight; the environs would have been uncomfortably warm had I not been chilled to the bone earlier. The reason for the warmth was the grate about forty feet away; gouts of flame shot up from it at random intervals. I could feel the heat from the ledge; frankly it felt good.

Krystal finished her trek up the ladder a moment later, glancing to the flames with a concerned expression. “One challenge after another? We may have to do this one at a time; I don’t know if we can make it through together.” She seemed to be timing the flames as we stood there in silence for a moment. “This time I’ll go first. I can tell you when to make your run.” Without warning she dashed forward, managing to sprint over the grate right after the flames subsided. My jaw dropped as she wheeled around, a determined glint to her eyes.

If I didn’t time things perfectly, I would be barbequed. That wasn’t a particularly pleasant thought. I steeled myself to make a run for it as the flames roared forth once more. I wasn’t prepared to hear Krystal’s voice boom all around me; echoing off the golden walls and columns around us. “Now! Run!” Somehow I was compelled to run like my ass was already on fire and my hair was catching, dashing across the grate with a speed I didn’t know I had. The feeling of heat became stronger; oppressive as I joined the vixen on the other side. The sudden flash of light and the nearly painful wave of blistering hot air rolled over us as the flame trap once again roared into life.

“We aren’t done yet. Look ahead.” Krystal’s voice was pure business now, pointing into the pit which now lay in front of us. It was perhaps eight or so feet deep and extended about twenty-five yards. Ladders were stationed at either side, making it a rather simple obstacle for us to traverse if it wasn’t for the pit’s lone occupant. I think it was called a Wraith; a jellyfish-like creature comprised of a brain set inside some sort of iridescent, gelatinous mass. Several tentacles hung down from the ‘brain’; they looked similar to what you would find on an octopus had it not been tipped in multiple sharp barbs the width of my hand. Those barbs glistened with viscous pinkish fluid; I was certain it was venomous.

The vixen’s next statement confirmed my suspicions. “This is a Wraith; a rare sight on Cerinia but they seem to be common on Sauria. They use their tendrils to ensnare, poison, and slowly consume their prey. We must get past it.” I wasn’t sure what to say so I nodded at her as she gave me a grim look. “I will draw the Wraith’s attention so you can get to the ladder.” She shuddered; a determined yet fearful look in her eyes.

I paused for a moment before shaking my head. “I appreciate the looking out, but you’re forgetting something.” I slid the Glock out of its holster, flashing a crooked smile. “I’ll just pop a cap in its ass and we can get on with our lives. Cover your ears, this will get loud.” I shifted into a firing stance, sights falling onto the Wraith’s ‘head’. It was moving pretty slowly, as if it didn’t realize the prey it had been anticipating was going to be its hunter. My finger stroked the trigger once, twice; Krystal letting out an involuntary yelp as the pistol’s report reverberated against the tight confines of the corridor. The Wraith jerked as if it had been shocked; the beast tumbling to the floor in a mess of tentacles and pinkish- purple ichor. The hollowpoint defense ammo I carried had done its job, though its spasms were still likely dangerous. It reminded me of a wasp that had been hit with bug spray; it was dying but it was still perfectly capable of killing one of us in its death throes.

I watched in silence for a moment, ready to shoot the deadly creature again if I had to. Krystal’s hesitant voice pierced the relative quiet as the Wraith’s twitching started to subside. “Being ensnared by a Wraith is not a… pleasant end. I would rather avoid that if at all possible.” She hesitantly approached the ladder heading down.

“Noted. Let’s not have any close encounters with the brain-squid.” I kept the vixen covered as she climbed down, tracking the twitching beast closely. Krystal gave it a very wide berth, motioning me to follow suit. I took a deep breath as I took the ladder down, making sure I had my Glock in my hand as I did so. The thing looked uglier up close, but judging by the translucent pink puddle it was producing I had put it down. The thing was still twitching as I passed it; glistening barbs randomly extending and contracting. I knew it was dead, but the whole scene was incredibly unnerving. The vixen’s look of fearful revulsion mirrored my own.

“I have a favor to ask you.” Her tone grew serious. “This may not be the only Wraith we face. If one ensnares me…” she glanced to the pistol in my hand. She didn’t have to finish the sentence. “If something should happen to me, find your way back to Kyte. He will take you back to my clan.” I blinked, but managed to nod. She wasn’t here alone?

Krystal reached into one of her bracers, retrieving a pendant of some sort. She offered it to me, which I took and slid into my pants pocket. “My village distrusts outsiders; that token will see you safely inside our settlement. Make sure my brother and sister receive this.” I nodded again, glancing to the ladder.

“I figure these things are a bit too dangerous to take risks with. They’re probably worth the ammo needed to put them down.” I responded, placing my hand on one of the rungs while tucking my pistol back into its holster. “I’ll take the lead for a bit, just in case another one of these things decides to get froggy.” Taking a deep breath I ascended the pit; despite the danger that I knew was almost literally around the corner it was far easier than climbing up the previous fifty-foot monstrosity.

The corridor went on for about twenty more yards before angling off to the right. The sound of hard sandals impacting the ladder’s wooden rungs then the rough tile floor heralded Krystal’s ascent. “What’s that over there?” She took a couple of steps past me, pointing to an object that had been set against one side of the corridor. It was a barrel of metallic construction; it looked much like a fifty-five gallon drum but significantly smaller. She approached it, keeping an eye on the junction just past us.

I followed her, keeping my attention focused more on the path ahead. I readied my pistol; I wasn’t going to be caught off guard by a brain-squid. While my Cerinian ally inspected the barrel my focus stayed on the sights of my Glock. The unmistakable sound of a lid being pried off the barrel was almost obscenely loud against the quiet backdrop of the corridor, followed by a disgusted snort from Krystal. “Gods, this smells horrible. I was hoping for some water, not… whatever this noxious liquid is.”

The scent wafted to me; I recognized it instantly. “Smells a lot like gasoline to me.” I spared a quick glance to see Krystal’s puzzled expression before resuming my watch. “It’s a liquid fuel; the fumes are explosive. My people use it extensively to power vehicles and other machines.” That was a terse explanation, though I was still left wondering how and why Saurians produced gasoline, or at least an analogue to it. Another thought crossed my mind. “If you’re looking for water, I’ve got a couple bottles in my bag. I could use a break after we make sure nothing’s going to sneak up on us?”

“If you are willing to spare your water, I would be grateful.” The vixen offered a soft smile in response. She likely sensed my intentions as she moved forward, a hand on the hilt of her sword as I peered around the corner of the intersection. Other than a series of flame jets which cris-crossed the hallway another twenty or thirty yards away, we were alone. There was no Wraith lurking around the corner as I had remembered; frankly that was a relief. As I slid my Glock back into its holster, Krystal spoke once more. “You wouldn’t happen to have any food, perchance?”

I nodded as I searched for a good spot to sit; finally choosing a place near a corner that allowed a good view of the entire corridor. It was then I noticed how exhausted I was; the pounding headache and discomfort from a myriad of bruises didn’t help matters either. The young Cerinian joined me, a sigh of relief cast to the warm air around us. “We’ll have to be careful with some of my food supply; I don’t know if anything I eat might be harmful to you. But, I think beef jerky’s a safe bet.” I grinned as I unzipped my pack, handing one of the water bottles over to her after cracking it open. She gulped a good third of it down in one motion; a sigh of relieved contentment faintly rising over the echo of the crackling flames around us.

I rummaged in my bag once more, figuring that the supply of jerky I had taken would be the safest bet. Salted meat was simple and not liable to trigger a potential allergic reaction, or at least I hoped. I handed over a couple of the slabs from the large package that I had purchased at a truck stop; that felt like a lifetime in the past despite the rational half of my brain screaming that hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since I had embarked on this flaming dumpster fire of a ‘vacation’. I tried not to think about it; I needed to concentrate on my survival. She wordlessly took the jerky with another nod, allowing me to unwrap one of the energy bars I had stuffed into the bag. It wasn’t a fancy meal but I was ravenous; unaware that I had eaten two of the peanut butter bars until I started on some of the jerky. It was delicious; especially after not having eaten in what felt like days.

“Are you okay?” Krystal’s voice broke the silence, startling me mid-bite. I glanced over; noting that the Cerinian’s expression was more curious than concerned. I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that.

“Short answer? Probably not.” She arched a brow; I figured it was an invitation to expound. “Physically I’ve taken a couple of hits to the head; that’s kinda worrisome. I might have a concussion. I could probably use a doctor, but that’s about as likely as getting back home and winning the lottery in the next five minutes.” My head was pounding and if I was completely honest with myself I started to feel slightly dizzy now that the adrenaline high had started to subside. A concussion would be pretty bad news if left untreated.

The tone in her voice grew concerned. “Do you feel you can hold out for a few more hours? We have a small camp; our healer can tend to your injuries. If that doesn’t work, my sister knows Lylatian healing ways; her supplies are limited but I am sure there is enough to help you.” The vixen smiled and sat back, apparently as content as I was to rest a little bit. I busied myself with reloading the partially emptied magazines from the fifty-round box I had stashed in my bag. The Federal HST hollowpoints had proven their effectiveness, though if I wasn’t careful I could run my Glock dry in very short order. Krystal looked on in curiosity as I slid the rounds into the feeding devices, but I didn’t really feel like getting into a technical discussion about the care and feeding of a handgun.

There were a few questions I had, and I figured now would be the time to ask. “There’s something I’m curious about. I’m most definitely not from around here. How are you able to speak my language?” I was confused by the fact we could communicate, frankly. To my mild surprise she smiled and pointed to the necklace she wore.

“My parents were diplomats for our village, tasked with maintaining relations with other tribes who speak different dialects as well as traders from other planets who visited ours. It works by reading active thought patterns and deciphering it as speech. It can’t read your inner thoughts, so please don’t worry.” She must have noticed my expression. “There are those among my kind who can read those thoughts, yet they are forbidden to do so without permission.” She adopted a thoughtful look for a moment. “Mala can likely make one for you. It would help you communicate with us.”

“Us?” I inquired with a mix of confusion and hesitation. She definitely didn’t sound like she was alone. It was likely a positive thing where my survival was concerned; that was if the others would tolerate my presence. If not I would need to find where my vehicle was and arm myself with a bit more firepower than a small handgun.

The vixen nodded; a somber tone to her voice as she explained. “We… we’re all that remains of my people. Our planet was destroyed by outsiders who sought to tap its power. We survived only by attacking some of those who were responsible and taking their ship.” She blinked tears out of her eyes, fixing me with a gaze which was as determined as it was sorrowful. “Only about half my village survived. My parents and younger sister were among those who spent their lives so that we might live. I am fortunate enough to have my elder sister and brother; many of us lost our entire families.”

I paused for a moment, digesting the information. That was rough. I was hesitant, but my best chance of figuring what happened to me as well as finding a possible way home was by throwing my gun in with their cause. “I’m sorry for your loss, Krystal. I’m not sure how useful I’ll be, but while I’m here I figure I can help your people out?”

A soft smile broke the saddened expression. “I’m sure we can find a place for you. We are somewhat distrustful of outsiders, but I have enough say within my village to make you my guest.” She rose to her feet, extending a hand to help me up. “Thank you for sharing your food and water with me. If you are willing to respect our ways and help us create a safe, secure place on Sauria I will personally ensure you are welcomed.”

“Sounds fair.” She helped me to my feet; my head and body were still screaming at me but I had to pull it together. We still had a ways to go.

---

Our destination loomed ahead after traversing a seemingly mazelike pattern of empty corridors; there wasn’t even a single Sharpclaw or Wraith to challenge our way. The chamber which lay ahead was large; while warm the smell of humidity lay thick in the air. Other than a short bridge which extended from the path we were walking the chamber was entirely surrounded by what looked like a shallow pool of water. It didn’t look or smell stagnant so I guessed it was circulated in from somewhere. Actually, a pleasant scent wafted in on the humidity; it was reminiscent of the lilac bushes that had been planted at my house though different enough to remind me of the fact I was on an alien world.

The centerpiece of the room seemed to phase into existence as if we had somehow willed it. The entity, for lack of a better term, seemed to shift colors; alternating its palate between a series of blues and purples. Its tentacled body appeared semi-corporeal; not quite connected to reality yet solid enough to potentially reach out and touch. The ‘face’ was a mask of sorts and somewhat resembled the kind of alien that Mulder and Scully chased on TV and you would see on the cover of supermarket tabloid magazines. If I hadn’t known exactly what it was I would have thought I was tripping on enough acid to make Hunter Thompson jealous.

Krystal’s voice whispered; full of awe and reverence. “Krazoa…” She took slow yet deliberate steps forward, motioning me to follow as her attention remained fixated on the spirit hovering about twenty-five yards in front of us. “The Earthwalkers must have hidden them away to keep them from the Sharpclaw. We will have to prove ourselves worthy and pure of heart to escort it to the Krazoa Shrine in this palace.”

“How do we do that?” I figured this would be very much like the game; it would be one of those rock-shell games that I used to play with friends as a kid.

“The Krazoa must judge one of us worthy to carry it.” She left the explanation terse as we approached. That was probably a very good thing as I could hear some sort of buzzing going on. It sounded much like a bad ground on a guitar amp; that was until I figured out that the buzzing was going on in my head. I winced as I felt something foreign and undeniably alien in my thoughts; a sharp gasp from my vixen companion confirmed that she was experiencing similar. The presence coalesced into a voice; to me it sounded like Morgan Freeman had he pursued a career as a professor at Oxford instead of acting.

“You possess neither fur nor scales; yet are not a mindless automaton as your brethren.” What the hell did it mean by that? My mental inquiry was promptly ignored. “Human. Such an odd word to describe your species. Drawn from a world far away; forced into a battle which is not your own. Yet you know something of this world, Adam-strayton. You know your Cerinian companion, yet you wish this knowledge to remain secret.” Shit. ”I will not betray your thoughts, human. Your actions are your own; they are the imprints of your will and has become the tapestry of which you are to be judged.” Wasn’t like I could do anything to stop it anyway, so judge away.

“You are a curious one. Armed and skilled with your weapons, yet not a warrior by trade. Able to destroy yet you have chosen the calling of a craftsman. The courageous blood of warriors flow in your veins, yet you possess the compassion and intellect to view violence as a tool of defense rather than aggression. You are deeply rooted in nostalgia; a double-edged sword in your parlance. You take objects long forgotten by time and memory and attempt to honor them through hard work and sacrifice. Those are noble strengths, Adam-strayton.” Huh. I never thought of it like that.

The other shoe was about to drop, however. “Yet you are isolated and insular, embittered by past events and pain you have yet to overcome. You are either incapable or unwilling to reach out to others; some see it as being aloof or superior yet you see it as not wishing to become a burden. Your heart is hardened and guarded; the machines and objects you cherish receive more care and attention than those who care about you. You value friendships and camaraderie yet view bonds of companionship and intimacy as weaknesses and vulnerabilities to be avoided at all costs. Cerinian society highly values those bonds; your flaw will be dissonant with those who could be your greatest source of strength. Your actions are aligned with restoring and healing Sauria, yet your heart is focused on finding a way back to your planet and your people.”

I wasn’t sure how to take that, though I didn’t really have time to absorb it before the verdict was given. “The path ahead will be difficult, Adam-strayton, yet you are not the one to carry me to the Shrine and start the process to restore our broken world. Your Cerinian friend will undertake that responsibility. Protect her on her path. Do not shun or lock away the companionship you may find on your path. Your mind may be open, yet you must learn how to open your heart. Ignore this advice at your own peril. Understand that there are struggles that cannot be resolved with weapons or tools. There is darkness in this world, human. Some of this darkness may be familiar to you; you have experiences and insight that others here lack. Draw on those.” The voice abruptly stopped; the buzzing in my head fading away as I felt a slight headache and nausea coming on.

I didn’t really have time to react as the entity hovered in front of Krystal. Something was amiss; she stood there with a blank, oblivious expression as her eyes stared into those of the spirit which had judged me and found me lacking. The vixen stiffened as the Krazoa’s tentacles reached out for her face, appendages simply melting into her body as she stood there like a mindless puppet. She fell to her knees as the entity flowed into her; her eyes half-closed as if she was experiencing either excruciating pain or mind-boggling pleasure at the act. A wave of concern washed over me; I fought back the urge to reach for her.

Her eyes shut completely as she arched her back, a sharp yet drawn-out gasp escaping her lips as if she had almost drowned. The sight made me fairly uncomfortable; not just for her safety but in the fact I was witness to someone else’s state of complete vulnerability. I was about to turn away but her eyes opened; their supernatural violet glow something that was slightly unnerving even though I was prepared for it. “I… I was chosen.” Krystal’s voice was laced with disbelief as well as exhaustion; yet underneath it all was an undertone of relief. “We have a fighting chance against Scales and his Sharpclaw army. I know you did not volunteer for this, but thank you.” She grinned as she shakily stumbled to her feet, out of reflex I proffered a hand. She immediately took it; once again I marveled at the warm softness of her fur.

I shook the sensation out of my mind; I let go as soon as the vixen had regained her footing. Admittedly the judgment leveled by the Krazoa was right in a sense. I wasn’t comfortable with touch or affection, even if there was a practical side of doing it. I probably went months on average without any physical contact other than a handshake or a half-hug that family members insisted upon. “Are you okay?” I inquired. “That looked painful.”

She shook her head, a blush flaring inside her ears. “It was actually quite… pleasant. It’s hard to describe. Merging with the Krazoa felt as if I were sharing minds with a suitor.” The blush deepened as she glanced to me. “I believe it was to ease fears of the merging.” There was an awkward pause; I wasn’t sure if my expression or my thoughts betrayed me but she definitely noticed. “My apologies if I made you uncomfortable, Adam. Cerinians are more open about such matters than Lylatians; I assume you are also more reserved.”

I didn’t really know anything about Lylatian culture outside of what superficial picture was presented by the games, though Krystal was definitely correct about my reservations. I nodded; while the Krazoa’s warning was fresh in my mind I needed more context about what it had actually meant. “That’s probably the case. I’m not offended or put off by it; I’m just a little out of my element, that’s all.”

The vixen gave me a curious look. “I have considerable insight into Lylatian ways and the differences between them and ours. Perhaps we could talk about your ways and I could explain how our ways might be different? I don’t wish for misunderstandings to happen that may cause friction; our Elder is somewhat… set in tradition and can be inflexible at times.” Her expression darkened somewhat at that revelation. I would have asked about it, but this wasn’t really the time or place. She fixed me with a pointed look. “You may have to adapt to our culture, perhaps in ways that may be uncomfortable to you. While I have some say in matters within our Clan, the Elder’s word is law.”

That didn’t sound promising. “May I live in interesting times…” I muttered, prompting a confused look. “Don’t ask. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. We should probably get going.” It sounded like the Krazoa was right about one thing: I wasn’t going to have an easy path ahead. I exited the chamber, keeping my eyes and ears open for any sign of danger. “We need to find a way out of here. The sooner we take care of this and leave the better.”

I was stopped by her hand falling on my shoulder. “This chamber is a Warp conduit. I can tap into it and put us close to the collection jewel the Krazoa needs to be taken to. We do not have much time.” This time I didn’t really have any warning before the world decided to twist and melt into a kaleidoscope of colors and motion that would have caused both Hunter Thompson and Timothy Leary to swear off the psychedelics.

---

When reality decided to stop its vanishing act we were once more surrounded by cold, drab, bluish stone; a subtle sign we were back in the Palace proper. My stomach churned with nausea and threatened to rebel. I had just eaten and I fought hard to keep from throwing up. We had gone through more than half of my small food supply and I did not want to offer it to the porcelain gods just yet. I was about doubled over; Krystal’s grip on my shoulder tightening. Her voice was laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t have an immediate answer; I focused on breathing deeply and evenly, forcing the nausea to calm down. “I… I really don’t want to do any more of that warping stuff for a while. My stomach isn’t going to take much more of that.”

“We won’t have to. The collection jewel is close by. After that we can go back to Kyte and return to my village.” Krystal’s voice was calm and confident, which in turn bolstered my confidence a bit. After a few moments of getting the nausea under control I felt good enough to look around. We were in a circular chamber about ten yards in diameter, lined with columns. The way ahead was too dark to traverse, though that wasn’t new to either of us at this point.

I was about to step forward but was halted by Krystal’s grip; it had instantaneously transformed from a concerned gesture of support to a borderline painful attention grabber. Her voice was hushed; alarm bells ringing out as she spoke. “Sharpclaw are coming. We aren’t going any further without a fight.”

The hollow echo of footsteps ahead was the obvious sign we weren’t alone in the chamber. We had gotten this far without any serious confrontation, but that luck was about to fail us. Krystal glanced to me with those unnervingly purple eyes, silently sliding her sword out of its scabbard. She nodded to me as I slipped my Glock from its holster and sought cover behind a column. Whispered voices in that flowing Saurian language reached my ears; the sound too indistinct to decipher it as anything else.

A formation of Sharpclaw remained mostly veiled in the shadows. One looked smaller than the others, jerking around as it walked as if were somehow wounded. I couldn’t really see them as anything other than faint shapes in the darkness. I readied my pistol, placing the glowing dots on the lead figure’s center mass. The vixen sprung into action as if she was a force of nature, the flashing of the dim light on her glittering blade as much warning as any of them got before she tore into the lead Sharpclaw. Her strikes were virtually unopposed; the Sharpclaw simply crumpling to the ground as it bled from its throat and chest. She darted to the next one as they struggled to react, seeking a defensible formation that just wasn’t there. She almost reached her target before everything erupted in a flash of light and the roar of thunder. The Cerinian yelped in mid-stride, hitting the floor as another staccato flash and roar battered my senses.

A split second of confusion gave way to the realization that she was being shot at; the faint waft of gunsmoke coming to me as I frantically tried to figure out who was doing the shooting. Two of the remaining Sharpclaw converged on Krystal as she reached her feet; the others held back. Her strained voice called out as I emerged into the fray. “Get the farther ones! I’ll take the others!” As I stepped forward the closer of the two pointed at me with something in his hand. I shifted my sights onto him and pressed the trigger. In comparison to the other firearm, the sharp crack of my Glock sounded like an afterthought. It had the desired effect despite the lack of thunder; the Sharpclaw tumbling to the floor as I shifted my attention to the other target. It stumbled forward, revealing the fact that it was decidedly not a Sharpclaw.

The man stood maybe a hair taller than me, dressed in a set of mud-spattered coveralls of a type favored by hunters and other outdoorsmen. He was stockily built; probably a farmer or tradesman by his overall appearance, even down to the mussed dirty blonde hair and fairly thick beard he sported. His gait was however jerky and unsteady, reminding me almost of a zombie from a Romero flick. My focus narrowed on what he was doing; he was busy shoving shells into the breach end of a double-barrel coach gun. My pistol was already up; the sights sitting on his center of mass. Sharpclaw were one thing; I wasn’t going to kill another human being without trying to stop him. “Drop the fucking weapon or I’ll shoot!”

The threat didn’t particularly faze the man. His attention was brought away from Krystal; turning towards me with an eerily blank expression on his rugged features. The cavernous barrels of the scattergun followed; I realized I was about to be blown in half. Training took over and my Glock fired first; two rounds delivered to the man’s chest in a fraction of a second. He staggered backwards but did not fall; surprisingly he didn’t touch off the shotgun as it swung away from its intended target. I shifted my aim upwards and pulled the trigger again. This time the round caught him in the throat and he went down like a ton of bricks; the shotgun clattering to the stone floor. The man spasmed a few times and fell still. I swore silently under my breath, trying to force the revulsion and guilt down my throat; my nausea returned and threatened to finish the job it had started earlier.

Krystal’s shout brought me back to my senses. “I’m getting overwhelmed!” My head whipped around to see the Cerinian struggling against the three remaining Sharpclaw. She was back on her feet and on the defensive; warding off twin swords and one halberd with precision, but she wasn’t gaining any ground against them. As she moved around I noticed a wince of pain on her lips; she was limping as she dodged another swing meant to cut her wide open. I brought my hand up only to realize it was empty; I had dropped my goddamn piece! The Glock had clattered and slid across the floor several feet away. My gaze snapped over to the other man’s dropped scattergun, being the closer weapon I went for it.

I wasn’t sure who made it, but the side-by-side wasn’t adorned with the fancy engraving and finely finished woodwork of an expensive hunting piece. However, they were incredibly simple and very reliable firearms; a twelve-gauge hunting load would be far more effective than my Glock up close. As the Sharpclaw closed in on my vixen ally I stepped forward, tucking the stock into my shoulder and quickly familiarizing myself with its controls. ‘External hammers, two triggers, safety catch on the tang. I got this.’ One of the reptilian antagonists was off to one side, either unaware or uncaring that I had entered the fray until it hissed in surprise. He was too late. I stroked the forward trigger; the scattergun belching flame and smoke as recoil slammed me in the shoulder. Whoever that guy was he had packed some pretty heavy loads; I was used to weaker shells. The Sharpclaw was knocked to the floor as if struck by Zeus; its chest caved in by a tight pattern of shot.

I wasted no time whirling around to face the two remaining Saurians who had pushed Krystal into a corner. She struck out as well as she could, but it was only a matter of time before they got a lucky hit. As with their deceased compatriot they didn’t pay the gunfire much mind; a fatal mistake on their part. I managed to scoot to the side, keeping Krystal out of the shot pattern as I pulled the rear trigger. The Sharpclaw with the halberd did a half-cartwheel to the floor as the shotgun thundered again, a gurgling, choked cry almost drowned out by the blast as it thrashed on the ground. This time the final remaining Sharpclaw noticed; now faced with the prospect of being on the receiving end of some hot lead. The only problem was that I was fresh out.

That didn’t stop Krystal from pressing the advantage. She wielded her sword with the skill of a practiced fencer; the blade lancing out to both parry a clumsy, distracted blow and to pierce the Sharpclaw in the abdomen. It shrieked in pain and tried to deliver another slash to the vixen, who had regained the upper hand. The warrior was far stronger, but Krystal had speed and ferocity on her side. The result was very much the same; a parried blow and another puncture wound. Blood was spilling down its intimidating frame yet it still stood; a frightening growl echoing from its mouth as it struck again with rage and fury.

This didn’t mean I was sitting still. I rushed forward while the lizardman was distracted, raising the scattergun above my head. I wasn’t going to be able to do much in direct combat, but the Sharpclaw’s attention was back to what it presumed was the greater threat: the Cerinian who had almost disemboweled him. I drove the metal buttplate of the double-barrel into the back of its head, creating a sickening crack that jarred me up to my shoulders. That gave Krystal enough time to make a far more effective blow; essentially running the heavily-muscled Saurian through. He silently stared at the sword sticking through his chest as the vixen pulled free; the final opponent shortly joining the others who were either dead or dying.

Krystal stood back from the defeated corpses, staring at me incomprehensively. She was shaking with adrenaline to the point the bloody sword in her hand was twitching; that was until her right leg buckled and she fell to the floor. A pained groan escaped her as I rushed forward to meet her, mindful that I was still carrying the spent shotgun. I was about to ask her if she was okay, but by the blood-soaked fur on her leg I could tell she wasn’t. “Shit.” I hissed. “Are you hit?”

“I… might be.” She grit her teeth and laid back on the floor, her breath echoing in barely contained gasps. “I didn’t feel anything during the fight. My leg now feels like it’s on fire.” I bit back another curse and shifted around to get a better look. I couldn’t see much through the blood-soaked fur; cerulean stained by crimson.

I knelt next to the Cerinian, both setting the shotgun on the floor and shrugging my backpack off as quickly as I could. I had a first aid kit… back in my RAV4. That and I didn’t have much in the way of medical training; just a quick first aid course that I was required to do for my previous job. “Lay back. Are you okay with me looking at your wound?” A sharp nod was my answer; the vixen’s features a mask of pain as she settled to the floor.

“I’ll try to be easy, but this is going to hurt regardless.” I pulled out the last sealed bottle of water I had. After undoing the cap I doused the bloodsoaked area, washing enough away to give me a better look. I reached down and gingerly parted the fur on her upper thigh, wincing when I saw blood oozing through a neat round hole torn through her flesh. I quickly discovered two more, eliciting a pained yelp from Krystal despite trying to be gentle. “Shit, sorry.” I frowned as I felt around the area; trying not to let my discomfort show as she hissed in pain. She cried out as my fingers brushed against what I hoped to find, though I quickly realized that we had a complication.

I removed my hand, looking up to meet the vixen’s glassy stare. Despite the violet hue of the Krazoa they brimmed with tears. I felt horrible, though the rational, logical part of my mind was well aware that this was necessary to determine how badly she had been shot. “Krystal, are you with me?” She nodded faintly. “You were hit with three pellets, probably double-aught. Two went through, but you’ve got a chunk of lead in your leg. You’re bleeding pretty badly and I think you’re going into mild shock. I’m going to bandage you up as best as I can.” I struggled to remember the specifics of that class, but came up with precious little other than stopping the bleeding and elevate her legs.

Digging into my pack I found what I was looking for; one of the items that Seth had put on a shopping list for my first serious camping trip. The large square of tasseled cloth I pulled out was called a shemagh; a traditional Arabian headdress that was quite popular with veterans due to its versatility. They made a great compression bandage; something I utilized by wrapping the blue and black-patterned cloth around the vixen’s wound and tying it tight. I finished by setting my backpack under her ankles, raising her legs above her chest in an effort to help counteract the shock.

“Thank you.” She whispered, locking those unnervingly purple eyes onto mine. “We can’t stay here long; the fighting may attract more Sharpclaw.” She had a point, but she was also injured and needed a little time to recover. Getting shot wasn’t something you just shrugged off.

“Are you going to be okay for a couple minutes? I need to figure out who the hell clapped you.” She looked a bit confused but nodded. After grabbing the spent scattergun I made my way back to the body of the man I had shot, retrieving my dropped Glock in the process. Something wasn’t right here.

Fighting back yet another wave of revulsion and nausea I placed my hand on the dead man’s forehead. It was cold. After getting a closer look the guy’s skin was pallid, almost as if he had been dead a couple of days. I sniffed; instead of the metallic scent normally associated with blood(which was definitely fresh in my mind considering my hands were slick with Krystal’s) it smelled like a strange mix of rotten flesh and something mildly sweet and artificial. Yeah, something was up.

I patted the body down, coming up with a few items. Firstly, the man’s wallet. Curiosity and an overwhelming sense of unease overcame my revulsion as I rifled through the contents. There was an Iowa driver’s license. Terry Carter, age 47. Expiration date in 2021. Address in Albion, Iowa; a town I had never heard of. Debit and credit cards in his name and about a hundred dollars in cash. Concealed carry license, so he was a shooter. Hunting tags which explained the double-barrel. Business cards of what I assumed were various local businesses; mechanics, feed supply stores and other services that were probably necessary for a small farming community.

As I searched the body of Mr. Carter I didn’t come up with a handgun, but I did find a set of car keys and a dump pouch on his belt that had a quantity of shotgun shells; high brass double-aught. Krystal was goddamn lucky she hadn’t been hit more badly; these were pretty powerful shotshells. I set myself to the grim task of undoing the belt on his coveralls and removing the pouch; something that was quickly added to my belt. However, the glint of metal met my eye; something at the back of the man’s neck. Grimacing, I tilted his head to the side; oddly stiff as if rigor mortis was trying to set in.

My blood ran cold as I noticed a lump of silvery metal fused to the back of his neck, likely attached to his spine. “Oh, fucking hell…” I hissed under my breath. That caused my gaze to snap up to the Sharpclaw I had initially shot. As I stood up I popped the breach of the shotgun, ejecting the spent shells and sliding fresh loads into the chambers. As I strode forward, my eyes locked to the object held in the Sharpclaw’s hand: it was an electronic device of some nature. I picked it up; it looked like a tablet of some sort with some physical buttons in a cluster near the bottom. The screen was cracked; the item pretty much useless at this point. Still, it didn’t take a great leap of logic to figure out what was going on. I stuck the device in my pocket. I wasn’t sure if I could figure it out, but if Fox showed up I would do whatever I could to have an in-depth discussion with Slippy.

The chilling realization was that the Sharpclaw had somehow been controlling the body of the man I had shot. I shuddered with revulsion as another dose of reality hit me: I had been slated for the same goddamn thing. The disgust, discomfort, and revulsion flared up into anger; I gripped the shotgun with white knuckles. Terry Carter had a goddamn family. Parents, maybe brothers and sisters, maybe a wife, maybe children. That family was very likely worried about him, not knowing that he was somehow whisked away to this godforsaken place and turned into a fucking meat puppet.

I was livid. I felt my hands shaking and stopped myself as I realized I had drawn back the hammers on the shotgun. No, blowing holes in an already dead Sharpclaw wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t bring that man back, and it wouldn’t get me closer to coming home. I engaged the safety and turned around, my mind a turmoil of emotions. I was shaking as I returned to Krystal, trying to clear my head.

The vixen was getting to her feet, favoring her injured leg. She limped forward to meet me, a look of concern on her face. “You’re troubled.” It was a statement, not a question. “What did you find?”

I paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out before answering. “I’m not really sure what’s going on. I think the guy was already dead and being controlled somehow by the Sharpclaw. Something was attached to the back of his neck and the Sharpclaw had a remote control of sorts.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “That could have easily been me. I’m going to find the son of a bitch who did this to that man. I don’t want this happening to anyone else.” My head was pounding and my body ached. Deeper than that, my soul hurt. My family and friends would be tearing the state apart looking for me. Would they ever know what happened to me? Was that man’s family doing the same? I was determined to not end up as a weaponized meat puppet.

Krystal’s hand found its way onto my shoulder. Her emerald eyes met mine for a moment; an expression of determination replacing the pain. “You have a right to be disturbed. There are rumors among Kyte’s tribe that the Sharpclaw have been controlling Cloudrunners in a similar fashion.” I noticed her weight shift against me, a slight strain in her voice as she continued. “This is why Scales must be stopped. We do not know how the Sharpclaw are able to do such things; however every life we are able to save is one less they have to destroy.” A hint of a smile graced her lips. “I’m glad I was able to save you from this fate. Returning the Krazoa is the first step and will limit the Sharpclaw from tapping their power. This will hurt them.”

“Okay.” I turned, though noted that she held onto my shoulder as I did so. “Consider me onboard as far as stopping these bastards. I don’t want anyone else to be turned into some kind of techno-zombie. If this means putting my ass on the line and hitting them where it hurts, so be it.” I started to make my way to my backpack, but stopped as I felt Krystal basically clinging to me. “Uhm, something wrong?”

I received a pained look. “My leg won’t support my weight. Please help me get to the collection jewel?” I nodded and picked up my backpack, somehow managing to pack it up and sling it onto my shoulders whilst keeping her upright.

I settled her arm around my shoulders, making sure I had access to both my pistol and my appropriated scattergun. “Just tell me where we need to go. I’ll get you there.” At this point I was ready to tell the knee that was somewhat bitching at me to shut the hell up. I was angry enough to blow a Sharpclaw in half and I had the means to do it.

---

By the end of our trek I was tired and perhaps a bit paranoid. Minus a couple of corpses(both Sharpclaw and an unfortunate Earthwalker that ended up on the wrong end of both the Sharpclaw and the gun-toting zombie whom I freed from his torment. Neither Krystal nor I were really in the mood for talking; other than her pointing out the way to our destination we spent more time keeping an eye out for hostiles than anything else. I was more or less absorbed in my thoughts as we drew closer to our destination. However, a question remained on my mind; one which I felt prudent to ask. “Krystal?” I inquired, grabbing the young Cerinian’s attention. “May I ask you a question?”

She had been silently hanging on to me; her head resting on my shoulder. I felt her nod; permission enough for me to continue. “If you aren’t alone, why is it just you out here? This is important enough to have some support. I mean, I’m glad you got me out of that situation, but I’m practically a total stranger to you.”

She tugged on my shoulder, which I took as a signal to stop. I heard her sigh, her voice a mix of frustration and pain. “I… I shouldn’t drag you into this, though you have a right to know. We’ve been here on Sauria for four… years, in your language. Like the Lightfoot we have isolated ourselves and had little interaction with the tribes. The Cloudrunners came to us, pleading for assistance. Our village has three Clans; my father was the leader of Clan Sallas, yet the title passed to my… uncle after he died during our escape from Cerinia.” She seemed unfamiliar with some of the English terms, though she made it work somehow.

“Elder Kael has final say over what happens in our village. He did not want to risk involvement lest the Sharpclaw target us. However, the Clan leaders wanted someone to look into what was happening. I volunteered, but Elder Kael specifically allowed only me to go. Mareth, my brother, wished to accompany me but he was forbidden to do so.” She paused for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. The frustrated edge to her voice deepened as she continued. “Elder Kael has viewed my family as abhorrents and outcasts even before our leaving Sauria. My parents did not agree with some of his decisions and refused to enforce them for our Clan. I believe he allowed me to volunteer hoping I would perish.” Her words were pointed, though from what I knew of her in the games I didn’t have reason to believe she was lying. “I could go into more, but this is not the time. If you have a sour opinion of Elder Kael it is likely he will not let you stay in our village.”

I started forward again, nodding in response. “Not the answer I was hoping for, but probably the one I should have expected. I guess I’ll burn that bridge once I get to it.” I wasn’t sure if the idiom confused her, though I figured it was appropriate. “For now, let’s focus on getting out of here alive.” I continued down the stone hallway. “How close are we, anyway?”

“Head right at the end of the hall. The chamber we are looking for is not far. Past that, we should be close to the entrance we originally entered the palace from.” That was a roundabout route, but I figured it could have been worse. We met only minimal opposition, though I was pretty sure that would change as soon as we reached our destination. I tried to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible, keeping the side-by-side at the ready as we entered the hallway.

The sight wasn’t too different than the scene in the game. The bas-relief shrine at the end of the hallway intersected another corridor; likely our way out. The alienesque face’s inanimate stare was foreboding, especially as I saw the decorative columns which flanked it. I knew exactly where this was heading, and I didn’t like it. If Krystal met her fate here we were both fucked; I planned on being the fly in that particular ointment if I could help it.

“Place me in front of the Krazoa shrine.” She sounded nervous as she spoke. “Please keep your wits about you; I will be vulnerable during the process of transferring the Krazoa Spirit.”

“You got it. Anything that tries to screw with you gets to eat a wall of buckshot.” I meant it, too. There was considerable speculation as to what actually jumped her in the game. Some swore it was Andross. Others claimed it was Scales. I had my doubts as to either of those theories. That said, if it was Scales I doubted he would be up to the task after eating a handful of Federal HSTs. Even with a bit more firepower I felt like I was marching into the lion’s den.

I guided the vixen in front of the stone face. She stood shakily on both legs, but her expression became blank. “Make room, human.” Her voice was flat and expressionless as the Krazoa took over; I retreated to the wall and tucked the coach gun’s stock into my shoulder in preparation for all hell to break loose.

Krystal fell to her knees, her arms spread out in preparation for what was about to happen. An agonized groan escaped her as the ethereal profile of the spirit exited her body. The Krazoa wasted no time, pushing itself into the stone face as she slumped to the floor. I wasn’t sure if she was still conscious.

I was about to reach out to her; at least until the carving started vibrating. The jaw hinged open; bolts of azure light streaking out of its eyes and mouth. I took an additional step back, biting back a curse as I prepared for something, anything to happen. The caution paid off. As I blinked away the afterimage I noticed a shimmering presence pull away from the columns which flanked the face. I could see it move towards Krystal. One thought coursed through my mind. ‘Not on my watch.’

“Hey, fuckface!” I shouted, placing the bead sight right in the middle of the shimmering mass. It stopped; my attempt at distracting the thing at least partially successful. However, that meant that I became the target. “Eat this!” I already had my fingers on both triggers, which I didn’t hesitate to pull.

I didn’t really hear the shotgun going off; I was too busy being battered by the concussion and recoil to notice. Touching off both barrels at once in an enclosed space wasn’t smart, but that son of a bitch needed to be put down now. Whatever was causing the Predator-like cloak flickered and shorted out; revealing a creature that I hadn’t seen in the games. It wasn’t a Sharpclaw; standing nearly as tall as Scales but nowhere near as bulky. Instead of mottled green scales it was clad in deep red; wearing dark brown leather armor which I had just shredded. The creature fell back against the column it had emerged from, blood already spilling from its chest. Despite taking two point blank shotgun blasts it was still trying to attack. Its hand dropped to its waist, coming up with a wicked-looking knife.

I wasn’t taking any chances either. I threw myself against the wall as the creature threw the blade. Unfortunately I wasn’t fast enough. My left arm exploded into pain; the shotgun dropping out of my hands. My vision blurred; I wasn’t really sure what happened but I saw my adversary reaching for something else. Likewise I reached down to grab my Glock.

Or so I tried. My arm was burning, which I figured was a side effect of having a knife buried in it. However, the tingling spreading through my body was not an expected side effect. I felt myself starting to buckle, desperately grasping for my pistol. My vision blurred even more; I was only able to catch a glimpse of cerulean leap up towards the crimson creature. I thought I saw a flash of glittering steel as I fell to the floor, but at that point I was too far gone to really register anything. The last thing I felt before fading out was the cold kiss of the stone floor underneath me.