Not even an hour after sunrise, the carriage departed with its guards. Gresh would've liked to depart immediately at dawn. Strakk had insisted on taking as much Thornax Launcher ammunition and extra weapons as possible.

The Thornax was a variety of fruit which grew wild all over the desert of Bara Magna. The plant managed to survive the Shattering due to their ability to thrive in harsh environments. It consisted of a soft center surrounded by a spiked, golden-colored shell. The plant could be used for a number of things. When unripe, the Thornax fruit could be boiled down, softened, and made into a stew (though it did not taste particularly pleasant, usually only eaten by Bone Hunters and beings of the Wastelands like Vorox). No one else could stand the smell of it, its rubbery consistency, and awful taste; it was said that one could smell a batch of Thornax stew from miles away.

When they ripened, the shells of the Thornax fruit became rock-hard, making for a memorable projectile weapon. In this state, the fruit was harvested for use as ammunition in the Thornax launchers carried by Glatorian, Skrall, Bone Hunters and others. The spikes of a ripe Thornax were hard and sharp enough to do damage to Glatorian armor. Thornax were harvested by Agori traders and sold to each village.

Even harsher, when allowed to over-ripen from the heat of the desert, the Thornax was a significantly more dangerous projectile by becoming unpredictably explosive. While use of explosive ammunition was allowed in arenas only in special cases, Glatorian who needed to travel often carried a supply for protection. The use of over-ripe Thornax were frowned upon in normal fights due to their explosive power, and were mostly used in the Arena Magna during Great Tournament fights. The Thornax was safe to use as long as the shell was not ruptured. Once it was launched and struck an object, it would explode with a force powerful enough to shatter rock. Unripe Thornax turned from golden to green, marking their different state.

As for the launchers, they were light, simple weapons, in existence for more than 100,000 years. Originally, it was thought a crude device and mainly used by members of the Sand Tribe. After the Shattering, and the subsequent drop in the technological level of society, the Thornax launcher became one of the more sophisticated mechanisms in use on Bara Magna.

The launchers consisted of two metal rods constructed parallel to each other, which grip the Thornax fruit. A trigger mechanism squeezed the rods together, forcing the Thornax out at high velocity. The launcher was specifically designed so that its use would not crack the shell of the fruit, which could case over-ripe ammunition to explode prematurely.

Thornax launchers were given to a Glatorian when a village hired him or her, for use in the arena. They were also carried by Skrall warriors, Bone Hunters, Vorox, and some Agori traders. Reliable and easy to keep in repair, they were the only ranged weapon in use in the desert.

It was no surprise or tall request of Strakk to carry more of the weapons. Gresh, however, was of the opinion that they should move out with as little baggage as possible so they could cross the desert as fast as possible.

"Oh, I know many traders that traveled with light baggage," Strakk had replied. "That way they found death much faster. Listen, little one, Bone Hunters care only about one thing: can you kill them faster than they can kill you? If the answer is yes, then maybe—maybe you'll have a chance of getting away with your life."

"So you think we should engage them?" Gresh asked.

"No, no," Strakk replied. "I suggest we don't even make this trip. But if it has to be done, we'll do it the clever way. We strike first, and we won't run away from them. Instead, we'll outmaneuver them and use strategy."

Strakk didn't know Gresh very well. They had met once out in the Wastelands and rode together for some time to Vulcanus. Back then they had had a small skirmish with Bone Hunters, but got away without too much trouble. Since then Strakk watched his back carefully. Bone Hunters had a long memory, especially when it came to their enemies. And he didn't like Gresh very much. The Tesaran fighter was young and strong, but a little too honor-bound for his liking. The only Glatorian Strakk really got along well with (well, they at least agreed on the importance of pay…maybe not "got along well") was Malum, an ex-Glatorian from Vulcanus, exiled for unsportsmanlike conduct, and even that had been against Strakk himself. As far as Strakk was concerned, this was only more proof of how little the villagers of Vulcanus knew about the life of a Glatorian.

Strakk rode up to the carriage. The two-headed Spikit that was pulling the carriage kept all four eyes fixed on the bumpy way in front of it. The Glatorian hoped the carriage was loaded with enough food. Even though a Spikit was a tough and enduring beast of burden, it would consume everything in its vicinity when it got hungry—including the carriage it was pulling, and everyone who was unfortunate enough to be sitting inside it.

"So, Tarduk," he said to the Tesaran Agori who was holding the reins in his hands, "I heard you've done your share of explorations."

"Sure," the villager replied, "I collect artifacts—old armor, weapons, scrolls, small fragments of history. I spend a lot of time looking around ruins and searching for things."

"That sounds…interesting," Strakk said. And really, really boring, the Glatorian added to himself.

"I've always wanted to see the Black Spike Mountains," Tarduk continued. A chain of forbidding peaks, the Black Spikes were home to the Skrall. Sparse vegetation allowed some wildlife to thrive there, but few ever went there by choice. The Skrall regarded any who entered the mountains to be trespassers. "I bet there's a lot of treasure to be found there!"

"Wait a second, you're the guide," Strakk pointed out, "and you've never been to where we're going?"

"Nope," Tarduk responded, smiling.

"Then why…?" Strakk began.

"He was the only one who was willing to go there," Kirbold said, "So he got the job."

"Don't talk so much," Gresh said quietly. "Our voices carry far. We don't have to let every Bone Hunter in the whole area know that we're coming."

"You're an optimist, my friend," said Strakk. "If they're outside in the Wastelands—and they are—then they've known we've been on the way since the moment we left Iconox. At best, we can hope that they don't know what we're carrying."

"And if they do know?" Gresh asked.

Strakk pointed towards the Thornax Launcher Gresh was carrying. "Then I hope you know how to use that, little one."

X X X

For the untrained eye, Bara Magna might look like any desert. Certainly, there was sand in almost every direction as far as the eye could see, shaped into dunes by the wind or spread like a soft blanket over the sleeping earth. When the wind whips over the vast stretches of the Wastelands, the sand whirls around at such high speeds that even Glatorian armor can't provide enough protection. And then there's the heat, of course. Bara Magna's sun burns and around noon it reaches such high temperatures that only Bone Hunters and the desperate Agori traders hunted by them can be found in the sands. During the worst part of the day the sand is so hot that one touch can lead to burns. Everyone who gets lost without water in the desert plateau will be dead within a day.

At evening the sun disappears as suddenly as a torch is extinguished. The temperature sinks rapidly and the Agori must crowd together around their campfires. The desert becomes—if it is even possible—twice as dangerous in darkness. Nocturnal predators come out of their caves or from under their rocks, where they hide during the heat of the day. The Bone Hunters get bolder, sometimes getting close enough to a village to take out a sentry that has strayed too far from the torches. There is an old Agori saying that says: "At least you see death coming in daylight." At night unfortunately, you are not so lucky. For those, however, who know Bara Magna well; the desert is much more than just a vast place with barren, sandy plains.

Many do remember that, in earlier times, more waterways than just the Skrall River crossed green fields. They remember how the village of Tesara wasn't just an oasis, but part of a giant jungle that stretched over the entire continent. They still hear the cries of seabirds from the ocean that existed far to the south in those times. All that changed about 100,000 years ago, when a terrible disaster changed the planet forever. After that there was no more time for memories of what once was. One was completely occupied with surviving each new day.

Still, while the carriage moved through the sand, Strakk had to think of how things had once been. He wasn't originally from Iconox, but from a land far to the north. He had been on a scouting patrol when the disaster that is now referred to by everyone simply as "The Shattering" had occurred and he had suddenly been cut off from his homeland. He stayed in Iconox while the world around him changed, jungles transformed into desert, the ice melted in the horrible heat. He wasn't sure if anyone would be able to survive the disaster. But there were survivors and he, too, survived—and since then everything in his life revolved around bare survival.

Strakk glanced over his shoulder. Iconox was no longer visible. He reined his Sand Stalker to a halt. "Good, now we're far enough away," he said, "Now we can stop."

Gresh slowed his mount down a little and looked at Strakk, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"What do you think?" Strakk said. "You didn't seriously believe we were going to drag this whole load all the way across the Black Spike Mountains, did you? Did you honestly believe my talk of stirring sand and fighting down Bone Hunters from earlier? If so, then you really have spent too much time in the sun."

"But that's our job?" Gresh replied.

Strakk snorted. "Then I'll explain to you how this works. The Agori will get out of the carriage. We take all the Exsidian metal, hide it, and shatter the carriage. Then we'll tell the people in Iconox we were attacked by Bone Hunters who stole our cargo."

The two Agori shared a look. Tarduk shrugged as if he wanted to say, "I don't understand it either."

"And then?" Gresh wanted to know.

"In a few weeks we'll return and dig the load out," Strakk gloated. "We'll divide it among ourselves and then go our separate ways again. And no one gets hurt."

"Except the people of Iconox when Vulcanus thinks they don't want to pay their debts," Gresh said. He leaned forward on his mount, then pointed casually with his Thornax Launcher at Strakk. "Now we're going to do the following. You ride a little ahead of us. And should you try to leave us behind, then rest assured that you won't get far." Although they were as different as two Glatorian could be, Gresh seemed to best understand how to handle Strakk.

"Are you completely out of your mind?!" bellowed Strakk. "There is a fortune to be made here!"

Gresh gestured with his launcher. "Go, now! We've got a job to do, that's how it is. And that's exactly what we're going to do."

Strakk found the Thornax pointed at him to be very persuasive. He glared at Gresh, but spurred on his Sand Stalker. Riding past the carriage, he muttered: "Out of dozens of Glatorian on this world they had to give me the only one who cares about doing the right thing or some such nonsense." Glatorian were supposed to live for profit.

Gresh ignored him and turned to Tarduk. "Do you have any idea what's waiting ahead of us? I hate surprises."

"Anything might be ahead of us," Tarduk replied. "In earlier times, this had been a quiet corner of the desert, until the Vorox infested the Dunes of Treason. They drove out a lot of Sand Bats and Dune Snakes, and even giant cave scorpions into the north. The desert between here and the Black Spike Mountains is full of them."

"But that's not the worst part," Kirbold said. "Have you ever been to the Sea of Liquid Sand?"

Gresh nodded. The large "sea" was located southwest of the village of Vulcanus. It looked like any other desert track, but in reality most of it was soft mud and quicksand, which swallowed all living things that tried to cross it. Any creature foolish enough to wander into the region quickly found itself sinking into the mire, never to be seen again. It was possible to get through, if one was clever or lucky enough. But all others who tried it now rested at the bottom of this sea, crushed and suffocated.

"Scattered spots of liquid sand also exist here," Kirbold said. "There aren't many, but there are spots in the sand that are just as treacherous…maybe even worse. You don't see them until you are right in the middle of them and then…"

"Did you hear that, Strakk?" Gresh asked to the fighter up ahead.

"Why wouldn't I listen to such wonderful news?" the Ice Glatorian shot back. "I'm really glad you asked me to ride ahead."

"Keep your eyes open," Gresh said. "We'll make it."

"Sure you'll make it," Strakk said. "Just wait until I sink into the sand and when you do…stop. Simple."

They rode in silence for some time. Before them the Black Spike Mountains towered in all their majesty. Even when Bara Magna had been a lush green place, this mountain range supplied stuff for numerous legends. Some of them were just the usual Agori talk—travelers who were journeying through the mountains and never returned. More convincing stories, however, were those about villagers who returned, but who weren't right in the head ever again.

Gresh gave Kirbold a quick glance. "Why exactly were you chosen for this job?"

"I mined this metal—the Exsidian," came the answer. "It's perfectly suited for patching equipment. Doesn't rust and is very wear-resistant."

"That doesn't really answer my question."

"I dug it out. I dragged it up. Others use it, but I found it. That's why I simply have the feeling it belongs to me. Should the cargo be in danger, I want to be there."

Gresh nodded. He had already heard crazier things. More than one Glatorian would never let anyone else tinker with his weapon or launcher for a very similar reason. The sun would soon be high in the sky. Gresh pointed towards a ledge. "Let's set up our camp beneath it until the worst heat is over." Kirbold and Tarduk steered the carriage under the ledge and carefully fed the Spikit first before they themselves ate something. Strakk sat down in the sand and closed his eyes while Gresh kept a careful eye on the desert.

"What do you think is up there?" Kirbold asked Tarduk.

"Who knows?" the Tesaran Agori responded, smiling. "There may have lived an entire civilization in these mountains that we've never heard of. They may have left behind equipment, tools, maybe even records of their history. For someone like me, that is a treasure chest just waiting to be opened."

"No, I mean…do you think there are monsters up there?"

"I think so…if you regard Skrall as monsters."

Kirbold lowered his gaze towards the sand. "No, I don't think they're monsters. But if they ever were to attack us…well, then I don't know where we could hide."