Korgash takes a job to hunt down a gang of caravan raiders. Along the way he encounters an unlikely ally. But can the lone mercenary work well with others?
 

     Down below, he heard a faint voice cry for help.

     “Not my problem,” Korgash muttered, half to himself, but also knowing that someone else was listening.

     The hoarse, wheezing voice spoke inside Korgash’s head, Maybe she’ll reward you.

     “She?” Korgash grunted. “Probably not my type. Do me a favor, Seer: go find someone else to redeem.”

     And what makes you think redemption is my desire?

     Korgash headed down the path he came from, toward the direction of the cries for help. “Why else do you keep making me save people’s hides?”

     Make you? He thought for sure the Seer scoffed, but it could very well have been a cough. I merely make suggestions. I’ve never interfered with your free will.

     “Well, I sure don’t do it out of the kindness of my own heart, you old decaying coot.”

     Why do you then?

     “To shut your yap, that’s why. I have a hard enough time thinking as it is. I sure don’t need your crotchety old voice distracting me.”

     “Fine. Just get me out of here, and I’ll stop yelling.” The voice came from outside Korgash’s head and was much lighter and softer than the Seer’s. Below his feet, down in a narrow crevasse, a young woman leaped at the ledge, barely touching it with her fingertips before falling back down. He noted with derision the softness of her pale, freckled skin and full mane of flame-red hair. Her ears were rounded, but she held the contemptible fey-green brightness in her eyes. The contempt and derision he held her with was equally matched by her grimace. “Great. Just what I needed: to be rescued by a half-breed orc.”