The ironwood axe turned out to be useful as both weapon and walking staff, its polished handle smooth against my gloved palm. The metal head gleamed in the moonlight, the edge sharp enough to shave with. High-quality workmanship, likely one of the man’s prized possessions. Too bad he’d chosen to become a roadside bandit.

  The path narrowed as it cut through a dense copse of trees. Wind whipped through the blue-green needles, creating a hushed hissing sound. The temperature dropped further in the shadows, my breath forming crystalline clouds with each exhalation.

  A scream shattered the silence. It was high-pitched, panicked, human—and unmistakably female.

  I broke into a run, axe ready. The path curved sharply around a massive boulder, and I skidded to a halt at the scene before me.

  A young woman was backed against a rock face, wielding a broken branch as a makeshift weapon. Twenty feet away, a massive creature stalked toward her with predatory patience.

  The beast resembled an oversized snow leopard, but with key differences that marked it as native to Jarl rather than Earth. Its coat was a mottled pattern of white and pale blue, perfect camouflage in this environment. Six legs, not four, moved with uncanny coordination. A ridge of what appeared to be ice crystals ran along its spine. Most disturbing were its eyes—three of them, arranged in a triangle on its broad face, glowing a pale yellow in the moonlight.

  The woman saw me first. “Help!” she called, her desperation clear. “Please!”

  The creature turned then, all three eyes fixed on me, but at least it stopped its predatory stalking. A harsh, rasping growl emerged from its throat. The beast was at least eight feet long and stood as tall as my chest. Its six legs ended in paws that were bigger than my head, each sporting talons that could disembowel a man with a single swipe.

  My stolen axe suddenly felt inadequate.

  The woman took advantage of the distraction, scrambling along the rock face, trying to put more distance between herself and the predator. The movement drew the creature’s attention back to her.

  “Hey!” I shouted, slapping the axe handle against my thigh. “Over here!”

  All three eyes swiveled back to me. The creature assessed this new threat, head lowering as it decided I was the more immediate concern.

  Good. That was the plan.

  “When I make a move, run toward your right and get behind me if you can,” I called to the woman, not taking my eyes off the beast.

  The predator gathered itself, muscles bunching beneath its thick fur. I’d seen enough hunting animals to recognize the deadly tension. When it came, it would come fast.

  I widened my stance, adjusting my grip on the axe. It wasn’t my usual choice in a fight. I was a little concerned the weapon was better balanced for chopping wood than fighting gigantic, six-legged alien kitty-cats, but it would have to do.

  As the beast began to lunge, I stooped to grab a fist-sized stone near my feet. While the monster covered the distance between us with shocking speed, I did a hasty windup. My left hand flung the stone at its forehead, which caused a satisfying and hollow thunk. Its triad of yellow eyes blinked rapidly, and I pivoted at the last moment, swinging the axe in a controlled arc. The blade caught the creature’s left shoulder as it passed, drawing a spray of dark blood that steamed in the cold air. The beast yowled an ungodly sound.

  It recovered quickly, spinning with unnatural agility for something so large. Three eyes glared at me with newfound hatred. Blood matted its fur where my axe had struck, but the wound wasn’t deep enough to disable it.

  “Run!” I shouted to the woman, who remained petrified against the rock face.

  The creature charged again. This time I stood my ground, dropping to one knee at the last second and spinning the axe upward. The blade sank into the underside of its jaw. The beast’s momentum carried it over me, its bulk crashing into the snow behind. Hot blood sprayed across my face and chest, instantly cooling in the frigid air.

  I rolled to my feet, turning to face the wounded predator. The axe remained embedded in its jaw, leaving me weaponless. The creature thrashed in the snow, trying to dislodge the foreign object, three eyes rolling in pain and rage.

  Grabbing another stone from the ground, I approached cautiously. The beast’s movements were weakening, blood pouring from the wound. I hoped one direct strike to the head would finish it.

  Its eyes found me, and in them, I saw something unexpected—not just rage or pain, but intelligence. A terrible awareness of its own mortality. For a moment, I hesitated.

  The creature made one final, desperate lunge. I sidestepped and brought the rock down with all my strength just behind an eye socket. A sickening crack echoed through the trees. The beast collapsed mid-leap, sliding across the blood-stained snow to rest at my feet.

  Silence returned to the forest, broken only by my heavy gasps for air and the soft whimper of the woman still pressed against the rock face.

  “You were supposed to run,” I said to the woman who still gaped at the fallen cat.

  She stared at me next, wide-eyed, then at the dead predator again.

  “It’s okay, now.” I retrieved my axe. Wiping the blade clean on the creature’s fur, I noticed scattered blue crystals forming jewel-like ridges on the dead cat’s head. Was that blood? Or something more nasty?

  “You killed a frost-fang,” she whispered, awe evident in her voice. “No one kills a frost-fang alone.”

  “First time for everything.” I approached her slowly to avoid frightening her further. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, pushing away from the rock face on unsteady legs. “No—I’m okay. Thanks to you.” Her accent carried the same frontier lilt I’d heard from the bandits, but softer.

  I got my first good look at her in the moonlight. Young, perhaps early twenties, with a heart-shaped face framed by dark hair streaked with a natural blue tint that matched the local foliage. Her eyes were a startling shade of violet, an artificial adaptation perhaps? To the red-shifted light of Jarl’s binary stars?

  Whatever. I’d seen weirder stuff on other colony worlds.

  She wore practical cold-weather gear—layers of leather and fur similar to what the bandits had worn, but tailored to her slender frame.

  “What are you doing out here alone?” I gestured to the forest around us. “Seems dangerous.”

  “I was gathering the longest frost-needles.” She indicated a small satchel hanging at her side. “They have medicinal properties. I didn’t realize I’d strayed into a frost-fang’s hunting territory.” She turned to look at the fallen beast. “Those crystals you were noticing on its head are valuable.”

  “Really? In that case, I’ll be collecting them.”

  Many were loosened due to the damage on the monster’s skull, and I managed to pocket a small handful and wipe the gore from my hands on the thick fur.

  I offered my hand. “I’m Dane.”

  She hesitated before taking it. “I’m Kelda… and you’re not from around here.”

  “It’s that obvious?”

  A slight smile curved her lips. “No one from the mountains would be foolish enough to wear clothes that fit so poorly in this weather.” Her gaze sharpened. “You came from the ship, didn’t you? Are you a ship-boy?”

  I almost nodded, but I didn’t like the idea. I decided to confess. “No. I’m from Earth. When I arrived, a welcoming committee of four gentlemen seemed very interested in taxing me.”

  Her eyes widened with realization. “You stole those clothes!”

  “Borrowed,” I corrected. “After they tried to rob me.”

  Kelda’s expression shifted from gratitude to wariness. “The enforcers will kill you for that. The Tyrant doesn’t tolerate theft or violence except by his own people.”

  “I’ve heard about your tyrant. That’s why I’m here.”

  She took a step back. “You’re from Earth’s government, then?”

  “Something like that.”

  Her laughter held no humor. “Then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought. One man against the Tyrant? He controls everything—the ship, the robots, the enforcers. He sees all, knows all.”

  “He sounds dedicated.” I leaned on the axe handle. “Can’t wait to meet him.”

  Kelda moved closer, urgency in her violet eyes. “Don’t joke. You don’t understand what he’s capable of. Anyone who stands against him disappears. They’re either taken to the ship or made into an example in the town square.”

  The wind picked up, whistling through the trees. Moonlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled shadows across the blood-stained snow. In the distance, something howled—a sound too eerily human for comfort.

  “We should move,” Kelda said, glancing nervously over her shoulder. “Frost-fangs hunt in pairs. Where there’s one, the mate won’t be far.”

  “Oh… well, lead the way.”

  We moved down the path, the dead predator already accumulating a dusting of fresh snow behind us. Kelda walked with the sure-footed confidence of someone born to this harsh world, navigating the treacherous footing with ease.

  “Where are you heading?” she asked after we’d put some distance between ourselves and the kill site.

  “The settlement… eventually.” I nodded toward the distant lights.

  She stopped abruptly. “Northaven? You can’t go there. The enforcers control everything. They’ll identify you as an outsider immediately.”

  “I need to make contact with someone in the colony.”

  Kelda shook her head. “Impossible. The only communications allowed are through channels the Tyrant controls. Even speaking of rebellion means death. I shouldn’t be talking to you at all.”

  “Go your own way, then. I’ll take my chances.”

  She thought that over for a few seconds. Her face looked torn.

  “No,” she decided at last, gripping my arm. “Listen to me. I know a place—a camp in the eastern foothills. People who oppose the Tyrant. They can help you.”

  Her manner was compelling, fingers clamping my arm with surprising strength. In the moonlight, with snow crystals caught in her snow-streaked hair, she possessed an enchanting beauty. Her violet eyes held a pleading urgency that would be difficult for any man to resist.

  “How far?” I asked.

  “Two days’ journey. But you’ll be safe there.”

  I considered her offer. Finding allies would be valuable, but I needed to locate Ingrid Dahl first. The psionic agent had requested backup, indicating trouble significant enough to warrant intervention.

  “I appreciate the offer,” I said, “but I have business in Northaven.”

  Disappointment clouded her features. “Then you’re as good as dead, Dane.”

  “I’m harder to kill than I look.”

  Her gaze softened. “Maybe, but you saved my life. Let me save yours.”

  Before I could respond, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine. The kiss caught me by surprise—warm and insistent in the frigid air. Her hand slid around the back of my neck.

  She had my attention now.

  I responded instinctively, pulling her closer. For a moment, the cold receded, replaced by a different kind of heat. When we finally separated, her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright.

  “Now will you listen to me?” she whispered.

  “That was a very persuasive argument,” I admitted, still holding her close. “But I do have business in Northaven.”

  She pushed away, frustration evident. “Stubborn fool!”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  Kelda opened her mouth to reply, then froze, her gaze falling on the axe for the first time.

  I looked down at it, too, moonlight gleaming off its distinctive metalwork. “What?” I asked.

  “Where did you get that?” she asked, suddenly cold.

  “From one of the men who tried to rob me.”

  Her eyes widened in horror. “That belongs to Erik Halverson. It’s his father’s axe.” She backed away, suddenly fearful. “Did you kill him?”

  “No—not that he didn’t deserve it. I left him and his brothers alive. Just took what I needed to survive.”

  She didn’t appear convinced. “That axe is Erik’s most prized possession. He would never give it up willingly.”

  “He didn’t. I took it after disarming him and his brothers.”

  Kelda continued retreating. “You expect me to believe you overpowered four Halverson brothers? Alone? Unarmed and naked?”

  “That’s exactly what happened.”

  Doubt turned to fear on her face. “The Halversons are brutal men, but they’re family. Erik and his brothers have terrorized travelers for years. If you did what you claim…” Her sentence trailed off.

  “They’ll come looking for revenge,” I finished for her.

  She nodded slowly. “And they’ll kill anyone associated with you.” A terrible realization seemed to dawn on her. “You’re going to have to kill me now, aren’t you? To keep me quiet?”

  “What? No—”

  But Kelda had already turned, sprinting down the path with the agility of someone who had spent a lifetime navigating this treacherous terrain. Within moments, she disappeared into the trees, the sound of her footfalls fading rapidly in the snow-muffled forest.

  I considered pursuing her, then thought better of it. Chasing a terrified woman through an alien forest in the dark seemed both futile and likely to reinforce her fears.

  The path ahead forked—one branch continuing down toward the distant lights of Northaven, the other veering east, presumably toward the rebel camp Kelda had mentioned.

  I adjusted the borrowed gloves, hefted the ironwood axe, and resumed my journey down the mountain. The settlement grew larger with each step, a constellation of lights against the darkness of Jarl’s endless winter. Somewhere in that collection of buildings, I’d find a connection to Ingrid Dahl and answers about the Tyrant who had seized control of this world.

  Behind me, the frozen corpse of the frost-fang lay as a monument to my arrival. Ahead, a colony in the grip of a dictator awaited.

  As I marched through the snow, I thought of Kelda. Her kiss still burned slightly on my lips.

  Chapter 8

  The road descended sharply, winding through a narrow pass between towering rock formations. As darkness fell, ice coated the path, making each step treacherous.

  Above, the twin moons cast competing regions of light and shadow, creating a landscape of silver and deep blue. The stolen boots, while better than bare feet, lacked proper traction for these conditions. More than once, I nearly lost my footing on the treacherous decline.

  After an hour of careful progress, the path widened, joining what appeared to be a more established road. The packed snow bore the marks of frequent travel—deep parallel grooves that didn’t match any vehicle I recognized.

  The settlement in the valley below, which I now knew to be Northaven, grew larger with each step. Meager lighting showed the outline of a collection of sturdy structures built low to the ground. Most were constructed from a combination of local timber and what looked like salvaged materials from colony supply drops.

  A wall surrounded the settlement—not the high-tech security barrier one might expect from a modern colony, but a primitive fortification of sharpened logs and scavenged metal. Smoke rose from dozens of chimneys inside the walls, carrying the scent of burning wood with something unfamiliar—a resinous aroma from the local trees, perhaps.

  The lights I’d spotted earlier came from old-fashioned lanterns hanging at regular intervals along the wall. No electric glow, no modern illumination. The Tyrant’s control of technology was evident even from this distance.

  My thoughts turned to Kelda, wondering if she’d made it safely to wherever she was heading. Her warning about the Halverson brothers seeking revenge seemed plausible. Men like that didn’t take kindly to being bested, especially not by a naked newcomer. And her fear of the Tyrant’s enforcers suggested an oppressive regime that had no tolerance for opposition.

  A sound caught my attention—the rhythmic crunch of movement on snow, coming from around the next bend in the road. I slipped into the shadows of the tree line, positioning myself behind a large trunk. The axe felt reassuring in my grip as I waited, listening.

  The sound grew louder—not footsteps, but something mechanical. A vehicle, perhaps, though the noise didn’t match any engine I recognized. More like the coordinated movement of multiple mechanical limbs.

  I peered cautiously around the tree just as they rounded the bend.

  Four men appeared, riding what I could only describe as mechanical horses. But these weren’t the sleek, gleaming robots of Earth.

  These mounts were utilitarian constructions—two-legged walkers with lengthened bodies designed to carry a rider. Their frames combined salvaged metal plates with what appeared to be locally sourced materials. The legs moved with surprising grace, adapting to the uneven terrain with mechanical precision. Each rider sat astride their mount as they would a horse, but instead of reins, they manipulated what looked like simplified control yokes mounted on the walkers’ “necks.”

  The men themselves wore matching outfits—thick, dark clothing with armored vests and helmets that incorporated lightweight comms systems. Each carried what appeared to be a long-barreled rifle slung across their back and a sidearm holstered at their hip. The insignia on their shoulders—a stylized fist clutching a lightning bolt—marked them as the enforcers Kelda had warned me about.

  “Spread out,” the lead rider commanded, his shout carrying clearly in the still night air. “The Halverson boys reported the theft about two miles up the mountain. Perimeter sweep, standard pattern.”

  Shit… the Halversons radioed ahead? Or had they beaten me down here, somehow?

  Either way, they’d lied and made me out as the bandit.

  The patrol fanned out, their walkers moving with mechanical precision through the snow. They were searching for something—or someone. Me, most likely.