“Have you never encountered what the Sandmen do?” The Sand Killer draws his short sword. The blue edge matches Eymaxin’s tattoos.
She responds by raising her hand, ready to blast him.
“Not me, Witch. There’s a Sandman.”
“We destroyed two on the river.”
“Then there’s another. It’s reaching into his head. If I carve it out, I’ll kill him.”
Eymaxin gulps her next breath. “If I blast Reynard again it only speeds up his dissipation.”
The warrior taps the tip of his axe against his own temple. “This spot, right here. The smallest blast you make. Then be prepared.”
She touches the spot on Reynard’s forehead. A blue spark flashes. He collapses to the ground. A Sandman materializes. The twisted, mangled faces trapped in the mask scream at Eymaxin, then yellow. As the ivory browns, the tortured faces silence and slump into convulsions. The Sand Killer slides his short sword through the sable robes with no resistance from a body, but the mask instantly crumbles to yellow dust. The robes fall empty.
Reynard bolts up. “I’m so sick.” He spots the Sand Killer examining the fresh robes. “You destroyed another one? Why are they so interested in me?”
“We must get you to the Thaumaturge.” Eymaxin shifts her earlier refusal.
“The witch is truthful. It may be the only way.” The Sand Killer sheathes his weapon.
“Warrior,” Reynard addresses him. “That blade…It’s like her tattoos.”
“Yes, friend.”
“Where did you get it?”
“There was a great battle between the Sandmen and the last of the Nologies,” he says.
“The Nologies lost,” Eymaxin says.
“Show me where this great battle transpired?” Reynard asks.
“Sandmen keep attacking you out here. We must get you under the protection of the Thaumaturge.”
“I’d be more motivated to seek this wizard if you’d both be forthcoming about what’s going on. I need a weapon to defeat these monsters.”
“The Sandmen have brought others to our world before in the centuries we’ve fought them. We guard our little understanding of the monsters now. Eating. Eating our food—”
“I’ll eat. Share with me something useful.”
“The Nologies battle was over long ago, before I was born. They couldn’t stop the Sandmen. You’ll learn nothing from their science,” she says with disdain, fearing the battlefield.
I’ve got a hunch.
“Traveling to the battlefield with a witch is unwise.”
Not much of a choice. “Then you travel with us.”
“Haldon Sy refuses to travel with a witch. I’ve brought down two Sandmen with my blade. How many have you killed?” the Sand Killer grunts.
“Three today.”
“Under the threat of those monsters, your weapons and magic should be used in conjunction to drive Sandmen from this world. Now get me to this battlefield.”
“Have you seen all the villagers to the next life, Sand Killer?” she asks.
“I’ve seen these people reach the next life. A warrior can do no less for those slaughtered by the Sandmen children.”
Eymaxin marches around the village, searching for something particular. She examines a body not cannibalized by the trolls and Haldon Sy refused to place on a pyre. Badly charred, his garb matches Eymaxin’s. She draws her knife and cuts the burnt leather band off his right arm.
A troll leaps from under the body. Eymaxin screams. She’s unable to use her magic to defend herself. Reynard instinctively draws his magnum. Before Haldon Sy kills the troll, two more appear and block his path. Reynard takes careful aim and shoots the monster before it removes any of Eymaxin’s skin.
Eymaxin’s powers overwhelm her as she touches the dead wizard’s arm. A troll bursts into a ball of blue flame before her. “They’re growing brave. It must be their numbers.” As if her words were a stage cue, dozens of Sandmen children swarm from the woods.
Reynard’s adrenaline kicks in. He draws his katana. The gleaming blade seems to sing as it cleaves the air.
“Kerl talsh erl salapish!” Haldon Sy swears. He slaps his chest as he leaps into the entangling mess of trolls. From his body armor grows an overlapping layer of steel material, shielding his head and face.
“What did he say?” Reynard asks, trying to mask his surprise over Haldon Sy’s technically-advanced armor.
“It’s an ancient oath,” she says as she blasts two more trolls out of existence. “It means ‘today is a good day to die.’”
Of course it does. “For our enemies.” Reynard severs the head of a troll. He fires his magnum, splattering trolls all over the ground. Their boney frames have no resistance against the power of armor-piercing durasteel slugs.
Haldon Sy swings his blade. The severed troll parts seem to shrivel up as they fall to the ground. Reynard notes the lack of proper sword training as Haldon Sy cleaves the weapon more like a meat butcher than a fencer. With the overwhelming number of trolls, a hack-and-slash approach works best.
Eymaxin summons an azure ball of energy between her fingers. She twists her hands around it, growing it to the size of a volleyball. She pushes more power into it before shooting a massive final burst of blue energy. Azure flames erupt around the village. Haldon Sy makes quick work of the remaining trolls inside the ring of fire.
Weakness overcomes Reynard. “Normal weapons hurt these trolls.”
“They aren’t mature Sandmen yet.” Eymaxin examines the dead wizard’s arm. She draws her steel dagger to makes an incision into his arm to exfoliate the skin, removing the tattoos.
Reynard reloads his magnum. I doubt it takes adulthood for Sandmen to be immune to regular weapons.
“This wizard wasn’t strong,” Eymaxin explains. “His tattoos are few, but with every bit of blue powder I collect, I become more powerful.” She rolls the meaty chunk of skin she has detached into a ball and places it in the pouch on her belt.
“Are you finished, Witch?” Haldon Sy knows full well Eymaxin’s disrespectful practice.
“I’ve his tattoos, Sand Killer. Speed him to the afterlife.”
Reynard witnessed Haldon Sy fling the dead wizard into the flames.
Reynard mounts the white charger. He offers his hand to Eymaxin to assist her. “Let’s go, Haldon Sy. We’re burning daylight,” Reynard says in his best John Wayne impression. His stomach
