I heard two things with my tin-enhanced ears. The first was the tinkling of water. I peeked out of my cavern and saw that the rocks below hid a small stream I had not seen earlier. The other thing I heard was a strange scratching, like that of claws on a branch.

I looked up, hopeful, and there found a crow perched among a sprout of weeds growing from the rocky wall. Could it be?

“Well done!” the crow exclaimed to me in her inhuman voice. “You have found metal even in your prison, Jak. The Survivor is pleased by your ingenuity.”

It was her. Lyndip, my spirit guide, sent by the Survivor to me during my most difficult times of trial. I have long suspected her to be one of the Faceless Immortals, as the legends speak of them being able to change forms and take the bodies of animals.

“Lyndip!” I exclaimed. “Is Miss Dramali well? The koloss have not harmed her?”

“They have not, bold adventurer,” Lyndip said. “But she is captured by them and is being held. You must escape, and quickly, for a dire fate awaits her.”

“But how am I to escape!”

“I cannot give you the method,” Lyndip said. “I am a guide, but I cannot solve a hero’s problems for him. It is not the way of the Survivor, who deems that all men must make their own way.”

“Very well,” I said. “But tell me, guide: Why was I taken captive again? Had I not earned the loyalty of the koloss clan; was I not their king? I defeated the challenger!”

I am certain my frustration shone through, and I hope you do not think less of me—dear reader—to see such harsh words spoken to my spirit guide. However, I was not only concerned for the safety of my dear Elizandra, but was also devastated to lose the loyalty of this tribe of koloss. Savages though they are, they had seemed close to revealing their secrets to me—secrets I was certain would lead me to the symbol of the spearhead, the bloody footprints, and the Survivor’s Treasure.

“I do not know for certain,” Lyndip said, “but I suspect it was because you used a gun to kill the challenger. Previously, in winning the loyalty of the clan, you did not shoot your rival but frightened him off with the placement of your bullet. Many koloss clans see killing at a distance with guns to be a sign of weakness, not strength.”

Ruthless beasts—savages indeed. The gun is the most elegant of weapons, the weapon of a gentleman.

“I must escape and rescue the fair Elizandra,” I said. “Guide, did you see how I reached this cavern prison? Do the koloss have a secret passage somewhere, and did they bring me up here by that method?”