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  Erin smiled down at the little creature with the overlarge blue eyes. "Your folk have a strange way o' greetin' fellow travelers. Be there others the like o' that in these woods?"

  For an answer Thorn merely snorted out a chuckle and continued up the trail. His mocking voice drifted back. "Enough to at least slow your friends down a bit!" Both he and Timin seemed to find this last remark greatly amusing. Erin wished he could be as sure!

  ***

  Nex was having trouble again. He had lost sight of Helmar and Garn, and the ones on his right were far too bloody apart for his liking. Kel, the slant-eyed Chin bastard, was flitting through the shadows like a wraith, his long bamboo bow nocked and ready. The big idiot Dashburn, however, was flailing away at the undergrowth, cursing both in Slath and the Trade Tongue.

  "Arn gersa stuten!", Nex hissed at the burly Slathlander. "You bloody fool! You're making more noise than a drunken whore giving birth!"

  Dashburn lowered both his 'shim' and his voice, yet continued to trample root, bush and brier, clearly giving away his position to anyone within several bowshots.

  Nex was shaking his head and silently wondering why Great Slath had burdened him with such idiots when he heard the scream. It came from the left and a bit ahead. Shield raised to guard against both thrown weapon and forest brier, he rushed toward the high pitched wail.

  Breathing heavily despite the coolness of the shadows, Nex all but stumbled into Garn. The Slathlander was on his knees looking down into a circular pit several vels deep. Helmar lay at the bottom, a number of bloodstained wooden stakes protruding through his chest and stomach.

  Garn's bulging eyes locked on Nex for several heartbeats. Words failed both of them. Garn dropped his gaze and got to his feet, his heavy Slathaxe and shield held before him like a talisman against evil.

  A sudden noise to the right made them both turn, 'shim' and Slathaxe raised to strike. Dashburn stumbled through the bracken. The Slathlander's eyes, wide and wild, went even wider when he saw the 'occupant' of the pit. His jaw dropped, and then snapped shut as Nex stepped towards him.

  "Where's the Chin?!"

  Dashburn nodded back the way he had come. "The bloody slant-eye is flitting from shadow to shadow like a feka! Gives me the shivers he does, him and that Slath-cursed bow of his!"

  Nex pushed up close to the big Slathlander. "That 'slant-eye' and his bow might just be the only hope you have of leaving this forest alive. Now, haul you ass around and take me to where you saw him last!"

  "What about Helmar?", Garn asked, his voice nearly breaking.

  Nex didn't bother to reply.

  ***

  Blood oozed from the many cuts and slashes Ragnol's whip had made on his back and shoulders. The chain's heavy links added to the pain as they rubbed his torn skin.

  Norgi, who in the beginning had felt no heavier than a bundle of straw, now felt like a sac of sand. Erin ap Conn was nearing the end of his considerable strength.

  Thorn, seeing the way the tall 'manling' staggered along, helped Timin to sit and turned to face the large stranger. They had come to the top of a rocky hill, crowned by tall pines. One tree had fallen and it's decaying trunk created a natural wind-break. "Rest here. Timin's wound is not serious but Norgi's needs attention. Bind his leg as best you can while I go to see if your 'friends' still follow."

  Erin, carefully depositing his unconscious bundle on the ground, was about to reply to Thorn's dig about his 'friends' when he looked up and saw that the odd little creature had vanished!

  "Where did he --- ?"

  "'Go'?", Timin said, finishing Erin's sentence. "Oh, don't worry about Thorn. He's like that. A bit, er, 'off-show' I think you call it." The plump, little Kirkwean grimaced in pain as he moved towards his thin friend. Erin saw that the fish-spear now rested beside the fallen log. "This legs need help. He's spilling much too bloods!"

  Despite Timin's less than perfect command of the Trade Tongue, Erin grasped his meaning full well. Unless the bleeding was stopped, Norgi would die. He quickly pulled off the unconscious Wee'n's belt and made a tourniquet.

  "What will he do?", Erin asked as he bound Norgi's leg.

  Timin answered without a moments hesitation. "What must do Thorn will do."

  ***

  From his perch high in a tree, Thorn saw the Chin archer moving through the shadows. 'He does it better than the others', he thought to himself. 'Much less noise,

  but his smell gives him away.'

  The wiry little Kirkwean glanced off to the right where the scream had come from. The 'warder-pit' had shaved down the odds a bit, but there were still three of the Slathers down there, and the silent archer was just off to the left and getting closer. Timin and Norgi were behind him with the big manling on the crest of the hill --- and The Root was still some distance away. Thorn knew that there could be a Warder patrol along at any moment; but then again, maybe there wouldn't.

  He decided not to wait.

  Slipping down the tree, he melted into the shadows and drew his Kirkaxe. It was a small weapon; short of haft and fitted with a light, curved blade made from the mysterious metal called Twain or Black Gold. In the forest's dim light only the Kirkwean's overlarge blue eyes could be seen. He crouched down beside the trail.

  ***

  "The quiffin' slant-eye was over this way!", a deep voice growled, though Thorn only heard the guttural sounds, since the hated Slath Tongue was beyond his knowing.

  Moments later three large 'manlings' lumbered down the path. The one in the front was cursing as he came, beating the saplings with his long sword. The stink of him almost made Thorn gag. The second wore high, brown boots and a long sleeveless coat of black bearskin, both which sloshed water about as he moved. This was the one that the slave had knocked into the river. He looked mean and urged the first one on with the flat of his wicked sword. The third was thinner than the others, with eyes that flitted from side to side like a trapped bird. Thorn smiled to himself and tightened his grip on his small axe.

  As the third Slather moved by his hiding place, Thorn sprang out behind him and swung his weapon. The 'clang' caused by the flat of the axehead slamming into the side of Garn’s iron helm caused the two in front to whirl around --- though all they saw was Garn’s unconscious body crumpling to the ground.

  Nex crouched, buckler and 'shim' raised. Beside him Dashburn half groaned, half growled, fear and anger fighting for supremacy on his course features. Nex swore and rushed towards his fallen crewmember. A quick check showed that Garn wasn't dead, but he might as well have been, for he would be no further help this day! The side of his helm was dented and blood trickled from his nose.

  "No quiffing sling-stone did this!", Nex hissed. "The bastards must be close --- find them!"

  ***

  Erin could stand the waiting no longer. The strange little creature had been gone too long. When the high pitched scream came, Erin bounded to his feet, the length of heavy chain clenched tightly in his two hands.

  Norgi groaned, still deep in sleep. Timin's large eyes flitted from his thin friend to the tall manling. All the confidence and easy laughter had fled from his round face.

  "Be watchin' over your friend, Timin-lad," Erin said. "I'll be seein' to the health o' the 'sling-wielder' myself!"

  Timin, his back still on fire from his own wound, nodded and reached for the fish-spear. If the hated Slathers found him, then they'd not take poor Norgi or himself without a fight! When he looked up, the tall manling was already moving back down the trail.

  ***

  From his vantage point in the tree Thorn could see both of them, though there was no sign of the silent archer. The leader in the black bear cloak was off to the left, while the noisy one was lumbering along towards the very tree he was in. Thinking to dent that fool's helm as well, Thorn worked his way along a lower branch that grew over the narrow trail.

  Dashburn continued to thrash his way up the winding path. Sweating heavily from the climb, he paused just beneath the towering
oak. Thorn was about to drop on the unsuspecting Slather when an arrow thudded into the branch not a handspan from his head!

  Dashburn, hearing the noise, looked up, at the same time thrusting with his 'shim'. The long blade passed by Thorn, tearing a hole in his shirt. It was then that the little Kirkwean threw his axe. Dashburn staggered back, then toppled to the ground. The black 'Twain' blade had sheared through the iron helm and was now deeply embedded in the Slathlander's brain.

  Thorn had little time to admire his throw, for another arrow whizzed by him. Off to the left Nex was cursing and coming on the run. With a speed that few would believe possible, the little Kirkwean scrambled further up the tree and out on a long limb.

  The tree grew close to a large outcropping of rock and Thorn made ready to jump. As he sprang, yet another arrow flashed by, this time nicking him in the arm. He landed a bit short of his chosen spot and had to scramble quickly to keep from falling. As he hauled himself up the weather-worn rock the hard-pressed Kirkwean caught a glimpse of the bowman. It was the Chin he had seen earlier.

  Thorn's large blue eyes opened even wider! The bronze-skinned archer was still much too far away to be a threat --- but already two of his arrows had barely missed him and one had all but found it's mark! Thorn's heart began to pound all the faster as he saw Kel moving in rapidly for the kill!

  Below him Thorn could hear Nex laboring up the rocky slope. Off to the right Kel raced over the boulders and up the steep hillside. Thorn had to reach the crest and before the archer did, or he’d be caught in the open between the Chin's arrows and Bear Skin's sword.

  Up he went, his tiny hands and feet digging into the rocky soil. Bits and pieces fell back, showering Nex and adding to his rage. Yet for all Thorn's haste, the archer reached the top first. Clinging to a spur of rock, unable to use his sling, his precious Kirkaxe buried deep in Dashburn's skull far below, Thorn drew his last remaining weapon; a razor sharp but pathetically small skinning knife.

  'Erg shatter me if it wasn't a good try!', he said inwardly, his blue eyes afire.

  On the rim of the steep hill, Kel allowed a mirthless smile to spread over his granite-like features. As he raised his great bamboo bow, he snorted in contempt. 'And to think', he reasoned; 'the 'great Slathlanders' fear these tiny creatures!'

  Yet deep down in a seldom used part of his cold heart, Kel felt a strange sadness for the tiny creature. After all, using only childish weapons and his wits, the little fellow had bravely defeated a good number of these big-mouth Slathers. Thorn's quick, silent movements reminded Kel of his own Ja~Din training. It was almost a pity that it had to end this way. ‘Fate’, sighed the bronze-skinned warrior, as he slowly drew his bow.

  As he was about to loose his shaft, there came a loud bellow from behind him. Inwardly cursing himself for being overconfident, Kel crouched and turned in one fluid movement. Years of training came instantly into play. His longbow dropped from his hands, replaced by two 'a-sa'; long, thin knives with elaborately curved guards that could catch and snap an enemy's blade.

  Yet the 'enemy' he now faced had no blade; instead he stood whirling a heavy length of chain. The noise of the iron links hissed like a snake. Even as Kel leapt, he knew it was too late. As the heavy iron chain slammed into him, winding around his neck, his last thoughts were of just how ironic it was that the tiny 'Wee'n' would now probably live --- while he most certainly was about to die. Life indeed was 'the Great Paradox'!

  ***

  Erin's smile became the grin of a wolf. The slender Chin was fast, and his leap had almost saved him --- yet 'almost' for a weaponsman still brings defeat. Erin yanked the chain. The slight body came like a puppet tangled in its strings. A swift kick in the groin, followed by a heavy forearm on the back, sent Kel to the ground. Erin quickly unwrapped the chain and picked up one of the strange daggers.

  'Not much o' a blade', Erin thought; 'but it'll do the job.' Kneeling, he was about to cut the archer's throat when a small head appeared over the cliff's edge. Sky-blue eyes looked into slate grey ones.

  "Well, are you just going to sit there like some great oaf, or are you going to help me up?!"

  Erin's stern face creased into a weathered smile as he reached out to take the little Kirkwean's hand.

  Thorn glanced at the unmoving body of the Chin archer, then back at the tall manling. "It seems that I owe you my life, 'friend'."

  Erin's smile broadened. "I'm thinkin' it's even we be, small one, though I still have need o' your help."

  Just then there came a loud bellow from further down the cliff, followed closely by the sound of falling rocks. Both Erin and Thorn rushed to the edge in time to see Nex tumbling backwards with what seemed half the hillside following him. When the dust settled, Nex's unconscious body could be dimly seen, half buried by the slide.

  Erin turned to his new-found friend. "You go back 'n tend to the others. I'll check on him."

  "Why?", Thorn demanded. "If he's not dead now he soon will be."

  "It's weapons 'n armour I be needin', laddie." Erin raised his still shackled wrists. "Besides, that bloody bastard has the key!"

  Thorn shrugged and turned away as Erin began to slowly descend the cliff. Kel's unconscious body lay forgotten on the ground.

  ***

  Chapter 4: THE ROOT

  As the tall, helmeted form, dressed in scale-mail, sword and shield, stepped out of the shadows, plump little Timin gave a startled squeak. Instantly Thorn whirled around, his fish-spear ready. Sky-blue eyes locked onto slate grey ones. Slowly the spear lowered.

  "You took your time, 'friend'. We were about to leave without you."

  Erin removed his 'borrowed' helm and shook out his long raven locks. "The quiffer took a wee bit longer to dig out than I thought. Ol' Nex-lad wasn't too helpful."

  "He's dead?", Timin asked.

  Erin's grin reminded the little Kirkwean of a hungry wolf. "Nay, just naked as the day he was born." Pulling the strange little Kirkaxe from his belt, he offered it to Thorn haft first. "Thought you might be wantin' this back."

  Thorn took it lovingly. "Aye, that I do. Granther Higgs would skin me alive if I came back to The Root without it!"

  Erin slowly drew his new sword and examined the edge. It and the mail shirt had been Nex's, along with the high boots and everything else he now wore.

  In his seven long years as a mercenary he had been forced to take men's lives many times, but never when there was no real need. When Erin had left him, Nex was still breathing, though barely. The rest was up to 'fate'.

  Erin rammed the sword back into its scabbard. "N' just where be this 'Root' of yours, whatever 'that' may be?"

  Thorn looked up at the tall manling. Dressed as he was in rippling scale and armed with a wicked 'shim', Thorn thought for a fleeting moment that he may have been wrong to save this tall 'outsider'. Now there was little he could do but take him to their village, for word of the dreaded Glitch Slath on their river must be spread. Yet something in Erin's face told him that, though this manling could be both fierce and savage when need be, he could also be trusted. Thorn decided to do so.

  "'The Root' is our home. It lies in a sheltered valley some ways from here; and if we're ever to get there then we should be going. Norgi's leg still needs tending." Moments later they were wending their way up the forest path, the tall stranger carrying the semiconscious Norgi.

  ***

  Thorn cocked his head and listened, but no reply came to his call.

  "What now?", Erin asked. "This little fellow be gettin' none the lighter." Thorn held up his hand. "Up ahead is a 'ward-post'. They should have answered."

  "Tis a bird I'm after thinking they took you for. Call out proper like." There was more than a hint of irritation in the tall man's voice as he stepped out onto the trail.

  It was then that the arrow thudded into the tree not a handspan from his head. Thorn brushed past him and said something in his own tongue. Above and to the right a curly thatched head poked out of the thick leaves of a tall
oak. More 'gibberish' reached Erin's ears, then the head vanished, only to reappear moments later at the base of the tree --- along with three others. One of the strange little creatures came forward while the other three kept their distance, spears and bows close at hand.

  Thorn and the newcomer continued to talk for some time, all the while the other three kept a watchful eye on Erin. At last the somewhat heated discussion came to an end and the apparent leader of the group strode up to the tall mercenary. "So, you are a 'slave' of the Erg-cursed 'Slathers'?"

  "'Was' a slave", Erin said. "Thanks to friend Thorn here."

  The little Kirkwean, dressed more importantly than the other three, hitched up his belt over a ponderous belly and toed the earth with his fancy boot. Erin noticed that a short sword hung from that belt in a well used scabbard.

  "Yes, well, er, that is all well and good, but what do we do with you now, eh? A 'manling' just can't wander free as a bird here you know. You're in The Wold now, 'outsider', and here The Kirkwean rule!"

  This last was said with more than a little bluster. The three guarding him nodded agreement. Then Thorn spoke up, still using the Trade Tongue.

  "Look here, Baily. This man just escaped from a Glitch Slath. Together we did in at least six of them, but there's still a whole boatload left! Now let's stop all this useless talk and warn The Root! I'll vouch for the 'outlander' here --- and that should be more than enough!"

  The small man puffed himself up and faced Thorn. "It's 'High Warder Broadbeam' to you, laddie; and I'm the one in charge here. Any 'warning' will be given by me!"

  "Then for Erg sake, do it then!", Thorn replied. "The Slathers may even now be moving against The Root!"

  Red-faced, High Warder Broadbeam glared at Thorn, then reluctantly signaled one of his men. A special tipped arrow was sent whistling through the sky. Moments later a horn sounded, followed by yet another from further away. Soon the forest resounded from the long blasts of other horns.

  "There," huffed the High Warder. "The warning has been given. Now to get the lot of you to The Root." He turned and said something to the three guards who quickly came forward and surrounded Erin. Broadbeam faced Thorn with a smug smile on his plump face.