The sun was high in the air now. No longer was the valley cast in the beautiful rays of orange and purple that the dawn offered so momentarily. Now, burrowing birds rose from their tiny tunnels in the desert and greeted the day with a small, beeping cry. Near the quarry, the waking birds flitted from the dusty desert floor and flew to the dried-out twigs of a roaming tumbleweed. They flocked there, digging for grubs that hitched a ride across the valley.

  One of these small birds rose late. Its cry was mournful and lonely, but it quickly realized where its companions had gone. A happy beep signaled its turn of mood, and it hopped along the sand towards the tumbleweed. A few hops, then it flapped and was airborne. It was a dart, gliding through the air towards its communal breakfast. Its stomach grumbled with anticipation, and it dove straight for the tumbleweed, locking onto a large green insect that was retreating deeper into the dead plant. The little bird soared, beak open and wings tucked. Then it was snatched out of the air.

  It struggled in the massive hand of a Bone Eater. The raider, Igor, stared at the bird in his hand as it thrashed and tried to flap. His eyes were dull, and his jaw failed to close all the way. Garth had woken him up only moments ago, and now he was expected to march up the cliffside and go to war with an unknown enemy. A war without breakfast, Igor thought, what a shame. Soldiers shouldn’t go hungry, least of all soldiers who were defending their home. A bird wasn’t as good as a choice cut of loin. It wouldn’t even give him enough energy to climb the hill. He had heard tales of lost men starving to death even after consuming the birds for weeks.

  Igor’s mouth watered as he contemplated the little thing. The saliva ran from his sagging lips and rolled down his chin towards his mangled armaments. He was decorated as most of his clan were, in the ornamental armor of bone that clattered as they marched. As his brothers pushed on and rattled past him, he honestly considered letting the bird go. Then it bit him. Small talons grazed him, leaving behind white trails along his red wrists. It wasn’t much at all, and there was no pain to it, but it had been enough to make Igor reconsider his mercy for the creature. He flexed his hand and felt a hundred crunches and cracks. Then the bird was still.

  He popped it into his mouth and chewed.

  Up on the hill, the vanguard force of raiders met with their chameleon kin. The drones were loping against the ground like a wild pack of dogs sniffing for scraps. The way they moved made them look like skinny strands of desert wafting above the sands. They were slow, methodical, and keen to the details of the land they patrolled. And they didn’t get any closer to the camp on the ridge.

  One of the drones turned, its body still low to the ground. It crawled along on all fours like a spider and ended at the vanguard leader’s feet.

  “You were sent quickly. I believe we have this under control,” it said. In the daylight, they were much more visible. Tatters of brown cloths wrapped them in all shades from their shaved heads down to their feet. Grafted onto the fabric was a smattering of sand glued there with dried blood.

  “What are you, a detective, now?” the leader of the vanguard asked. The team of raiders knew him as Vaude. As was custom in the hierarchy of Bone Eaters, he was a brutal man that answered only to Garth and Voll. A pale scar rose from his jaw and reached into his scalp, ensuring baldness was the only style of hair he could maintain. “Garth told us to check it out. You want to go tell him you ‘got it under control’?”

  The spindly creature shuddered, then crawled aside. Vaude led his men further into their perceived battlefield. Igor trailed behind, picking feathers from his teeth. Then, he cocked an eyebrow.

  “Vaude?” Igor asked. The beastly man turned to him, the scar gleaming in the morning light. “Where’s the enemy?”

  Igor watched the sand. There was nothing for miles. He had heard of mirages from the desert dwellers. Grand optical illusions that sundered the mind and broke reality. When he had heard these tales, he was prone to believe they were ramblings of madmen or spells cast by the rumored witches of the valley. Now, he might believe them. Clearly, there was no enemy upon these hills. They were either images produced by the valley, or they had buried themselves in the sand.

  "Good point,” Vaude said. He turned his scar towards the drone. “Where is the enemy?”

  “Unaccounted for.”

  “Then why am I here!” Igor cried. The bird hadn’t filled his stomach enough to cure his hunger, and the lack of breakfast was agitating. What made it worse was the drone’s babbling. The thing proceeded to tell them everything they already knew. An unconfirmed band of raiders had made camp on the ridge and the drones attacked them, with massive losses reported on their behalf. It resulted in a single capture and a handful of dead drones. At least there would be less of them stinking up the hive now. Igor rubbed the sides of his head with both hands like he was trying to set his slacked jaw into place. “Stupid… Stupid… Stupid!”

  “Where are your dead?” Vaude hissed. This time when the drone retreated. Vaude snatched the creature by its rags and lifted it. It looked uncomfortable in an upright position.

  “The dead? They are a few paces that direction.” One clawed hand pointed along the ridge towards something that made the Bone Eaters perk up. Along the cliffs edge, they could barely make out the dead in their camouflage, but once they spotted one, it became easier to spot the rest. They were splayed out and cooking in the morning heat waves. Vaude threw the drone aside and marched his men towards their battlefield.

  “Sorry about your… animal,” Ulrich said.

  “She’s a pack beast. She’ll be alright.” Greenblatt watched the group of Bone Eaters march up the hill toward their old position. He rolled his eyes when he saw one of them stop to eat a bird on its morning hunt. Animals, he told himself. “002 will keep her company until we’re back.”

  Ulrich chuckled at that. The gesture wasn’t more than a gust of air expended from his nostrils and a quick turn of his smile, but it was the most positive emotion he had shown since their journey began. It made Greenblatt smile behind the leather mask. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. Just considering who would keep better company, the beast or the slave.”

  “Slave’s a strong word. I prefer the term penitent servitude. I crafted them from some of the hardest criminals Kiva Noon had to offer, and they pay their debts to society in my service… but the beast is definitely better for conversation. Are you ready?”

  They were positioned close to the hive, closer than either of them was comfortable with. Greenblatt’s plan didn’t help with their anxiety. They hid behind large chunks of stone that had been carved into cubes, not by the Bone Eaters, but by the long dead men and women who once mined this place. Ulrich turned his chin down once, enough confirmation for the warlord.

  The pack beast and 002 were long gone. If the Bone Eaters had any competent trackers, they might be able to follow them, but that would be in service to the plan. Better the army of hive guardians marched out into the wasteland, leaving their home with the front door wide open. There were contingencies in place, of course. A degenerate clan of raiders may or may not have the capacity to track them. If that was the case, it might be in even better service to the plan.

  Greenblatt tied a length of rope around Ulrich’s thick wrists. The plan was for him to be able to break them if need be, but the warlord quickly realized the man couldn’t be subdued with this chord or any other he had packed. Fortunate or not, he made a mental note of that as he tightened the rope. The Pit Lord’s arms were so large, Greenblatt’s knot was only left with small nibs at the end to pull it tight. It had to look believable. He placed a hood over Ulrich’s head.

  “Snug?”

  “If you say so. What am I supposed to do again?”

  “Look like a feasible offering,” Greenblatt said. He stepped back to inspect his handy work and nodded to himself. “Not too bad.”

  “This hood stinks.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “It should. It’s what I carry the pack beast’s food in.”

  “What exactly does it eat?”

  “Whatever goes in the sack. Grubs, plants, sometimes shit if it’s desperate.”

  “What?” Ulrich cried. He reached up for the hood, then stopped when he heard 001 one power up. The lobotomite clattered to life with a deep inhale that unsettled the Pit Lord. Vacuum tubes hummed as they sucked air into its systems. Blood moved through it, and it sounded like a drain gulping down the last bits of water from a sink. Gears whirred and spun, moving it to its feet. As it returned to a state of power, its systems calmed and quieted. Greenblatt whistled, and it snatched Ulrich’s wrist with unexpected strength.

  001 did as its master commanded of it, leading Ulrich towards the hive. Greenblatt was pleased that Ulrich continued to reach for the hood to remove it. It really sold the prisoner of war look he was going for. His plan might actually work. Far be it from a perfect plan, things just fell into place, as they often did for Greenblatt. As a follower of the karmic path, cosmic luck was often on his side.

  When they reached the entrance of the hive, he started to doubt that luck. The enormous spire cast its shadow over them like they were in the path of a giant sundial. Even without a large force to guard the hive, two Bone Eaters stood watch over the hive entrance. For the time, they didn’t notice someone was approaching. They played a game of dice, Greenblatt saw, but they weren’t actually playing. They were like children taking turns rolling dice and picking them up before they could even see the results. Then they were close enough so that Greenblatt could see what they were actually up to. They weren’t rolling dice at all. Instead, they were torturing a pale desert spider, picking it up by one leg then dropping it back to the sand as they giggled to each other. When they finally noticed Greenblatt, they rose to their full height and the spider scurried away.

  The two Bone Eaters were tall. They almost reached the top of the cave entrance, which was almost a foot above Greenblatt’s head, and he was no shrimp. Both of them wore a separate garb from the rest. Their war gear was a mixture of leather and burlap that hugged their muscled frames. They wore skullcaps on their heads like helmets, but they looked like yarmulke rather than anything protective. One stuck a finger out as the small group approached. “Who are you?”

  “Yeah, who are you?” the other parroted.

  Greenblatt bowed low and swept one arm up behind him like he was greeting a maiden at a ball. Ulrich balled his fists and flexed against the rope. The warlord was the only one to speak. “Gentlemen! It truly is fortunate that I find myself among other esteemed members of society. My journey has been long, and I’ve lost my caravan. Would either of you mind pointing me in the direction of Hazards Reach?”

  "Hazards Reach?” one of the Bone Eaters asked. He looked at his partner at the gate. “Never heard of it. You spend too much time in the sun, man?”

  “Oh, I certainly have! My associate and I are bounty hunters.” He gestured to 001, who stood like a statue. “We snatched this quarry from a recent prison break in Kiva Noon. Once he’s cleaned up, he should make us enough to eat through the winter. Look at him! He wasn’t an easy one to wrangle.”

  “Kiva Noon…” one of the guards mused. He adjusted his bone helm as he scratched his head. The way he stared at the trio, Greenblatt couldn’t tell if his plan was working. Judging by how slow they were asking their questions, he was fooling them. But Kiva Noon might have been a hint too far. That might be enough to jog their memories and turn them hostile. Greenblatt waited for his answer and was happy to hear: “Yeah. I think I’ve heard of that.”

  “You idiot!” the second cried. He knocked the first on the head with his fist, cutting it on the skullcap. “Of course you’ve heard of Kiva Noon! That’s where all our food comes from!”

  “Oh… Oh yeah!”

  “So you are familiar!” Greenblatt clapped his hands together like a merchant excitedly wrapping up a sale. “I don’t have much to bargain with, but if you would grant me shelter until I find out where I am, I can deliver this man to our friends in town. They would very much appreciate it, I’m sure.”

  The two guards looked at each other. They were silent for a long while, and Greenblatt guessed that idiots must have a telepathic frequency they can communicate through. In truth, he didn’t want to go into the hive. They watched an army march out, but there was no telling how many more crawled within. By Greenblatt’s count, it had been almost thirty men. A quick calculation told him that the forty slaves offered every full moon might not be enough to feed them, so they had to be eating something else. That was a variable he couldn’t work into his math. There could be as many as a hundred cannibal raiders down there. There could be as little as zero. He didn’t like the uncertainty.

  One of the guards made a droning noise, like a boy stumped by a question in a classroom. The other spoke up. “If he’s a prisoner at Kiva Noon, he belongs to us. We can take him from here.”

  The Bone Eater reached for Ulrich. As soon as the beastly man felt a hand on his arm, he growled and elbowed him aside. The Bone Eater fell on his ass, and Ulrich pressed the attack, blindly thrashing until he found his prey and mounted him. He lifted his bound hands above his head like he was holding an invisible stone, ready to bring it down on the Bone Eater.

  Greenblatt whistled. 001 moved quickly, swinging the poleaxe so that the cold flat of the blade froze Ulrich in place. The Pit Lord was breathing heavily, his chest heaving as if it was having trouble venting his fury. With the guidance of Greenblatt’s calm hand, Ulrich stood and backed away from the Bone Eater.

  “I should really insist. He’s quite the fighter.”

  The Bone Eaters nodded in unison and led the trio inside.

  “How many dead?” Vaude growled through clenched teeth. Agitation was working its way through his body, winding him up with anxiety and confusion.

  “Five,” Igor answered. He poked one of the dead drones with a stick.

  It didn’t make any sense. He was told he would meet an army up here. An army that only slaughtered five drones? Why only five? Surely, they were capable of killing more. That is, unless the drones retreated once they snagged the boy. The Bone Eaters who lived inside had always looked down on the drones. Their master might appreciate the diversity of tactics they offered, but Vaude was a man who faced challenges head on. Their slinking nature was cowardly to him. While Bone Eaters had no sense of honor, they certainly held some pride for the ceremony of combat. Drones were superstitious, skinny, and half-crazed. They only had that last bit in common with the rest of the Bone Eaters.

  But here, they had fought and died. Five of them even. They didn’t turn and run at the first sight of danger, they actually continued the fight. The area where the battle took place told Vaude as much. The creatures stayed close to the hive and never left the quarry. But here were five who had. They had gone much farther than any other patrol of drones had. But why? There was something they weren’t being told. For some reason, the drones were keeping secrets.

  Vaude inspected the corpses. They were cold already. Not that that was anything to go off of, the drones were believed to be cold-blooded anyways, but it did make the lieutenant anxious. They were expecting a fresh fight. The longer he stayed out here on the cliffside, the more he wanted to regroup and reconsider within the hive. He was beginning to feel the fear his men dwelled on. Igor had spread a rumor amongst the ranks that they were hiding just underground, or that the drones were preparing for a coup and this was their first move. Both times Vaude told him to shut up and whacked him with a baton made from a femur. Still, it made his spine rattle thinking about the potential of either option. He hadn’t even considered what Greenblatt had in store for them.

  Some of the bodies looked like they had been cleaved with a heavy bladed weapon. Others were clearly handled by a brawler. The symmetrical slashes and placements of broken bones and bruises were unnerving to Vaude now. There wasn’t an army up here. At most, there were two men. One with a sword, maybe even an axe, and the other unarmed. That was all it took to handle the five of them. The third, their prisoner, had a saw-tooth axe with him, but these wounds were inconsistent.

  Vaude relayed his thoughts to his men, who all praised him for his infinite genius. The scarred man reveled in their commendations, then waved them off as if they were flies over his breakfast. He stood over the corpses of his supposed kin with his hands on his hips. With a cough, he cleared his throat and addressed his men. “No need to worry about one pansy with a weapon. They might have been able to kill five drones, but that isn’t enough to kill a real Bone Eater!”

  His men cheered while the spidery drones rolled their eyes, shifted uncomfortably, or ignored him and picked at the stones in the sand.

  “We should go have a word with our new friend at the hive. But first, the drones have provided us breakfast. Let’s get them back before they rot out here.”

  “I’m not eating that,” Igor said. He was pointing at one of the drones who had been torn open by the bladed weapon.

  “Doesn’t matter. They’re coming back with us, picky eaters or not.”

  Igor groaned. First he had to march up here without breakfast, then they found no army to even fight, and now the bird was giving him indigestion. All that topped with having to carry one of the outside kin home on his back? After it was already dead? It was a joke. The bottom feeders of the desert would claim them sooner or later, and they were far enough from the hive that they wouldn’t cause them any trouble if they were to decompose on their own. It was a waste of muscle to carry them all the way back. But word was Kiva Noon was holding out on them, and they were light on food this moon. Reluctantly, he grabbed the dead creature by the shoulders. Rigor mortis had set in, making it difficult to move. Something in the sand was also holding it down, making it hard to lift. He needed the help of Vaude to get it up. Neither of them saw the cable tied to the corpse, but they both felt the click. Suddenly the drone’s corpse was incredibly light. They both fell backwards and looked around. The rest of the Bone Eaters looked like they were also having trouble. More clicks sounded as they pulled the bodies free. Igor’s eyes went wide when he saw something shiny underneath. He wasn’t well versed in machines, but he recognized one of those when he saw one.

  “It’s a-!”

  Before he could finish, the entire cliffside blew up. Igor’s mangled body tumbled in the air, falling down into the quarry. Vaude was in so many pieces, not even the mega vultures would waste their time descending to the earth to feast upon him. Bone Eater bits went in every direction, covering the cliffside in blood and bone bits. The explosion was enough to send the bugs burrowing and the birds flying off to safety. It rumbled the sky and shook the earth; and deep in the hive, it called the rest of the Bone Eaters to war.