Someway back along the trail... 
 

The Gambler nods pensively, and while he calmly looks towards the way Ranal and Megrin went, his nervousness is betrayed by the way he swirls his black dagger in his right hand... "Very well done, my friend. I would have lost time finding them again, for sure." He turns at last towards Heladil and breaks into a smile while sheathing his dagger: "Valuable time, for sure. You were right in asking to come, and I'm honoured by your presence. " He clasps the other Elf's shoulder and swings into his saddle. "Let's use this time wisely. Let the hunt begin at last!" 
 

After perhaps two hours of following the winding trail of the merchant's cart, slowly, so as not to miss Ranal splitting up and doubling back on them, there comes a point in the path where the cart obviously turned onto a smaller trail winding up and over some higher rocky ground. The main path continues east but a fairly well worn path turns more southerly to avoid the dense hill country that begins here. Sealvach turns in his saddle and silently signals Heladil to stop and directs both of them to the nearest cover. 

"I don't think they might have noticed us, but let's take no chances. This place looks good for an ambush and in my opinion, they could be preparing for another night attack or just that they want to avoid the main road. Anyway we might be in for a bad surprise riding blindly into their arms..." He indicates the trail with a circular gesture. "Stay here for a few minutes and try to find a new winged friend. I'll check this part on foot by taking a side way and will call you to come with the horses if it is clear." 

Heladil, staring silently up into the rocks ahead, faintly nods in answer. 

Sealvach observes the terrain ahead for a few seconds, looking for the best way to reach the higher place unnoticed. When at last he is satisfied, he starts running lightly towards his goal, one eye on the area above him, while Heladil draws his bow ready to give covering fire. 

Sealvach heads towards the cluster of higher rocks, using all the available cover to hide his approach from view. "Difficult," he thinks "...as anyone perched above on the rocks might easily spot me dashing from cover to cover, but." he appears lucky and no one fires upon him and the Elf soon dives into the shelter of the rocks at its base. 

Fifteen minutes later and the Gambler appears on top of the cluster, waving his arms to his companion. There is no ambush and no one waiting for them after all. Satisfied, Heladil brings up the horses and the pair continue on, passing over the jumble of rocks and heading down the other side towards a distant line of hills and what looks like the smoke of  habitation in the distance. "Buhr Tallanmoor is not far away now and still no sight of them," mutters Heladil frowning and watching closely the trail beneath his horses hooves. 

As the two riders descend through broken rocks to the flat land beyond, neither notice the taught cord that is partly obscured by dirt in the road. The first sign of something amiss is when the horse beneath him tugs slightly at something and a loud swishing sound follows the whip-like track of a small birch sapling that flicks up and out of the bushes and catches Heladil squarely in the side. As Sealvach dashes up to aid him, Heladil groans and clasps his side where three whittled barbs now torn from the main stem have embedded themselves straight through his leather jerkin. His fingers run with blood. "It's. not serious," mutters the Elf, although he looks pained. 

Sealvach swears silently... Heladil's injury is no minor one, but right now he wonders if Ranal and Megrin might be near their trap, looking on or even moving forwards to catch them in the open. He curses his own negligence, but it is of no help here. Dismounting quickly, he takes his black horse's reins and guides both mounts to cover, Heladil still hunched atop his. All his senses are reaching out, for any hint of a nearby enemy, and he draws his sword, driving both horses with his left hand. At last he can help his companion down and comfortably sets him on the ground, gauging the injury with a quick glance. Bringing back his full perception to the path and checking for anyone approaching, Sealvach whispers to the other Elf: 
"Can you bind yourself to stop the bleeding 'till I'm sure we're safe to stop here? We can't afford to delay too long, but we will if we must..." 

Heladil nods, more animated than earlier: 
"Yes, I can manage, although I have no skill in binding wounds. Damn that Megrin!" 

"Well, in that case I better do it for you. Keep an eye open for the enemy while I do," answers Sealvach and stoops to go about binding the holes in the Elf's side. Wrapping the protective cloth around and tying it off tight causes Heladil to wince in pain but he can at least move his left arm without it tugging. 

A few minutes later, they are once again atop their horses and moving swiftly along the new path to try and catch up on the time they have lost. 
 

Meanwhile… 
 

In the tavern of Buhr Tallanmoor, Captain Harmal, the Gargath warleader, Lochan and some of the others are seeking information on the Szreldor attack. Most of the company militia are out searching for supplies in the village or aiding the local people to make quick repairs to their damaged homes, under the direction of the local man, Mouse. 

The barkeep and Headman of the village, Grum is speaking: 
"... we are a village of traders. We do not seek war, why should they attack us?" 

Relg is the quickest to answer: 
"In other times, I would say, it is just the way these Szreldor dogs are earning their living. But things might be different today, and there might be an overall reason behind all this. We should be aware that once we can free the people from Buhr Criocha, this might be just the first step for us, and we might find ourselves pulled into a quarrel which does not allow us just to quit." Relg continues looking straight at the innkeeper as if almost demanding his co-operation: "I would need a dozen arrows to refill my supplies, and I would be grateful if you could spare one or two more quivers. We are going to face a long trip without another chance of replacing the ammunition we have used. At least we wouldn't have iron tips for our arrows." 

Grum ignores the tone of Relg's voice and answers smoothly: 
"Well, the best person for any kind of munitions is our resident Dwarf, Coll. He's the one trading in weapons round here. He might be in later, if you want to ask him," answers the Barman. "You never know. he might have something for you." 

Lochan looks around, trying to catch Boldor and Froin's attention. Boldor is there at the bar and nods, sliding from his seat at the mention of another Dwarf. He leaves, just as Meraina enters and crosses the room to join Raddish who is speaking slowly and carefully with Grum's wife who is beaming at the little fellow with surprised delight. Billy, seeing the problems his friend is having, takes the opportunity to follow Boldor out of the building also, saying something about supplies. Lochan calls to Froin as he appears: "I expect that you will want to talk to this Coll anyway but I think it might be useful to hear his tale about evacuating the village." He turns back to Master Grum: "Are there any eyewitnesses who watched the Szreldor and are still alive? Any information they could give us would be very valuable." 

Sadly, those that stayed to defend their homes are all dead," sighs Grum. 
"I did hear that Coll has some sort of seeing device of Dwarven make that allowed him to watch the Szreldor approaching. I guess he would be the best man.er sorry, Dwarf to speak to. The other villagers were with me below ground in the abandoned mine. I wasn't taking any chances that they wanted to take us too!" 

Froin walks to the Innkeeper after hearing what he has just stated. "Where can I find this Coll?" 

"Coll has his forge down at the southern end of town. It's easy to spot because the bridge over the south burn runs past his front door." 

Relg turns away, looking for a free table, but then remembers something and asks Grum: 
"Ah, Grum. You should know that we are expecting guests, two men, calling themselves traitors, ah, I mean traders. Maybe you have heard of them - Megrin and Ranal? Please offer them a warm and friendly welcome, and maybe tell them that we left already. Maybe you can also post one of your people out there who could warn us when they approach. Just in case our two rat hunters were not successful." 

"Eh? I don't understand any of this. Megrin you say? Why he's well known around here. Brings in much of the goods that we need and cannot make for ourselves. I don't know about all this talk of traitors and you lot not being here when you are? What are you on about? 'Course your here, and if you still want arrows then Megrin might be able to help you out, see? No, no traitor is Megrin." He shakes his balding head. "Now who wants some food, home-baked by my lovely wife?" 

"Many thanks Master Grum. You and your wife have my warmest thanks," answers Lochan as the group take the proffered seats. He guides Relg away from the frowning Grum and shows him a seat. Maleg, brings in the rest of the gear from outside and presently joins them at the table, a little way back from the leaders, waiting expectantly. 

Relg puts down his gear and reaches for the drink he has been offered. He looks around. "This is a good place to rest and stay overnight. Let us enjoy the evening before making plans for the next day." His eyes are searching for Gwalchmai, and soon enough he finds him. "Come on, great warrior of the north. Sit down and have your ale. We haven't had the opportunity to talk, but I would like to use this lovely evening." Relg laughs, and it is obvious that he is enjoying this place. 

….. 
 

After moving his belongings upstairs, Froin leaves the tavern and heads south towards the forge. After a couple of minutes or so he sees the firelight shining out into the night from the open front of a building and approaches. An overhanging awning of stout birch branches and heather, shields the charcoal fire burning inside its grate in the open front of the forge and Froin can see numerous anvils of differing sizes and a pile of newly made horseshoes lying upon a stool. An animal skin hides this front room from those behind and Dwarven voices speaking in the dialect of the Iron hills come through clearly from there with the occasional throaty laugh. 

Picking up one of the horseshoes, Froin looks at the workmanship. "Ah, now this is craftsmanship," he says. Lifting the hides, Froin walks into the room beyond. 

Behind the curtain is the common room of this dwelling and contains, among other things, an oaken table at which sits a bald and wide looking Dwarf in a leather apron and Boldor. 

Speaking in Khuzdul, Froin says: 
"I was told I could find Coll here. I hear he is a master craftsman, dealing in weapons." 

The bald headed Dwarf stands: 
"Well, bless my beard. Two of my folk in one day. Well, by the hair of Mahal this is a turn up and no mistake. Come, take food with us friend, for I am known as Coll in these parts although my proper name is Fabur. Ironsmith to Buhr Tallanmoor, at your service." 

"Well met Fabur. I am Froin son of Dain, of Durin's line." Froin sets his pack down on a stool and unstraps the axehead he has carried since the raid on the old Tower. "I am in need of a hilt for this here axe. I am very short on time, and northman craftsmanship doesn't compare to that of my skilled brethren. I can pay any amount, and if it is more than I can put forth right now, I will see to it that King Nain compensates you for your work." 

"Ah, Froin, son of Dain. I am honoured indeed that the king's own Engineer Royal is here in my humble abode. Now, let me see, let me see. Hmm, a fine axe-blade this and from the Ironfists if I know my trade. Where did you find such a thing, if I may ask Sir? It has some years on it, I can tell you. Well, we should be able to put a spare haft on that in no time. Nothing fancy now but if your in a hurry. Anyway, Master Froin. Won't you join us? Boldor here has been informing me of the latest happenings to the north and west of this village. Fascinating stuff and no mistake." 

"No mistake indeed," Froin says, taking a seat at the table. "These are indeed troubling times. As for the axe-blade. I acquired it on our travels from Buhr Criocha. I am not as knowledgeable about sharpening weapons as you, or Boldor might be. So if you could also sharpen it, I would be most grateful." 

Froin looks to Boldor, "I have been meaning to talk to you about a few things. Your vision has been troubling me since we last spoke of it. Have you retold your story to Fabur? His knowledge might help us solve what questions we have." 

….. 
 

Mouse has by now returned and as Grum's wife serves the company steaming plates of baked Kine and local vegetables, Gwalchmai downs another of the smoky ale and raises his voice from his discussion with the Gargath and exclaims slightly too loudly: "Well, I don't understand all this talk of who owns what, I am tired and my wound still aches. The land of my people has been ours for centuries and I'm not going to let some expansionist crazy invaders destroy what is rightly ours. It seems that many of the Barony Lords of the Northmen sit behind their fences in the west and ignore what happens on their borders and leave the simple farming people or the herders, like my own family, to face this slow invasion on their own." 

Relg can see that Gwalchmai is bitter about his situation but can only shrug and take a pull of his ale to hide his stomach rumbling as the smell of the food brings Meraina and Raddish over to a nearby table. 

"I have heard of the lands of the mixed people and know some of what you must feel," continues Gwalchmai more quietly. "I am glad to call you and the Gargath as allies," and he stretches out a great hand to shake Relg's, patting the other man hard on the shoulder before adding: "You have already lost your homeland and not apparently because of your own fault. These Szreldor are spreading like a disease across the land and no one seems powerful enough to stop them...or just doesn't care," he adds. Gwalchmai 
shakes his head in despair and for a young man seems to have spent much time thinking about the problem - as if the weight of the invaders falls on his shoulders alone. There is indeed more to Gwalchmai than his gruff exterior. 

….. 
 

It is now almost dark and apart from some dogs barking, the village of Buhr Tallanmoor seems fairly quiet. Some lights are appearing in shuttered windows as the two Elven hunters watch. A much stronger light however is coming from a large building roughly central to the settlement. By the look of it, the building is probably the tavern and thus where the company would meet again this night. Here, where the pathway joins to outlying fields, there are many tracks of passers-by and carts but none that can be singled out as belonging to Megrin or Ranal. 

Sealvach leans in his saddle and turns to Heladil: 
"They must be in, hidden somewhere waiting for the night to strike again, while we think us safe in the village..." He strokes his chin pensively and points to the road before them, winding its way into Buhr Tallanmoor. "Here is what I think - I have spent many years passing in human lands, so I will go on this evening. You would have problems passing for something else than an Elf, my friend and the villagers might be jumpy of strangers." He smiles. "Our friends must be warned of this threat, so I'll use a quick 
make-up to disguise myself as a human traveller and will go to this tavern. If Harmal and the others are within, it's surely the place. You could go and hide on the other side of the town, so that you could notice any unusual activity at this hour... There I'll find you when I have delivered my message or if they aren't there." 

Heladil nods then says quietly: 
" It may be that Megrin and Ranal do not know that Captain Harmal and company are here, after all they were more concerned with us - at least to lay that trap! Anyway, if they realise the whole group is here they might try to flee in any direction. I will ride to the northern approach and watch the village from a higher position. If they try to flee with the wagon I will surely see it and send up a flaming arrow in the sky - be sure to be watching! If we can place a leager around the village they cannot escape and we move in for the capture." 

Sealvach nods in turn. "It is a good idea. Nevertheless I might not be watching at the time. Better maybe to mark their direction and leave me a message in the dirt somewhere so that I'm able to follow your track later. The flaming arrow might signal you to them and risk you again uselessly..." 

Both Elves move off the path and use the fields to ride around the village until they cross the northern road, which Sealvach plans to use to enter Buhr Tallanmoor. During the ride, he has stopped and used whatever was close at hand to disguise himself somewhat; filling lightly his cheeks with pieces of cloth, binding his hair under another and removing his hat, making up his cheeks and upper lip to simulate an unshaven apperance. He has checked with Heladil 'till his disguise seemed acceptable enough before mounting his steed once again. 

The Gambler then leaves Heladil on his way and approaches the tavern checking thoroughly the shadows along the way. He is slightly slumped in his saddle, to hide his noticeable height and no one apparently pays him any heed. 
 

Meanwhile… 
 

"Let me see if I understand you well Mouse." says Lochan scooping up a dripping mouthful rfom his plate. "Earlier you mentioned the Szreldor crossing the Red River. Recall that they have at least two carts with them. Surely this will limit the number of places at which they can hope to cross it. How many crossing places are there within two days travelling time from here? 

"Well, actually there are none Lochan. The River Carnen or the Red River as it is known to us, is perhaps three and a half days ride from here – even using all the hidden pathways. You are right however that the Szreldor will be aiming for one of the few crossing points. We will have to wait and see nearer the time which route they choose but we might well be able to overtake them and find out which one. It is a clever thought, Ranger. The Szreldor will no doubt want to cross over the river into their own territory as soon as possible but that would mean taking the prisoners very close to the borders of the Dwarven lands. We might be able to catch them there." 

After sitting in the smoke filled room for a while, listening to Relg and the others making plans, Coru excuses himself, and leaves the tavern, making way for a small boy who pushes past him to speak to the barkeep. As he gets outside, the Gargath Tracker stretches and tries to rub the smoke out of his stinging eyes. Although they have been travelling all day, Coru is used to long marches, and he doesn't care much for this town life. Thus, he starts walking westwards, and quickly leaving the village, heads up the nearest sloping hill. "This." he says to himself, as he sniffs in the fresh air at the summit, ". is where I'll live my life. Not in some fussy common-room at the Roasted Boar." 

Lochan meanwhile turns to the Northman at the end of the table: 
"Gwalchmai, what can you tell us about your peoples Lord; this Conall Sleaghach? Do you think that he will be sympathetic to our cause? Will he be able to send some men in alliance with us and if that's possible, do you have enough influence to speak directly with the man?" 

"Hmm, Conall has no love for the raiders across the border, that's for certain," answers Gwalchmai. He is constantly at war with them, but as yet has not been able to organise a strong enough force to drive them out for good. As Relg probably knows, the Szreldor seem to have unending numbers of warriors ready to fight for new territory and Conall has to look after the security of his own people. I have no real influence to speak of with the Lord but I can still seek aid from him. The lands of Conall Sleaghach are too far from here to aid us now but I will speak of this when I meet with my brother and father next." 

Lochan nods and turns to Captain Harmal and Master Grum: 
"We must plan ahead a little. When we're successful we will have many weary people to move back to this fair Buhr. Could, or should we take spare horses with us to aid us moving the weak back quickly? My point being that we cannot know that the carts, or their draft animals will survive the attack." 

"It is a good point Lochan," answers Captain Harmal. "My men are out now searching for spare horses amongst other things, to take with us. We can only hope however that the carts are in suitable working order or the folk of Buhr Criocha might have to walk - at least to here. It is time now for us to discuss the battle plan, for if we are to set an ambush for these dogs, then we better make it a good one!" 

Relg stands up and shouts: 
"Yes, we have celebrated enough. Now I say also, it is time to come up with a plan." The Gargath takes a chair once more. "How long will it takes us to catch up with these Szreldor dogs?" 

The Captain answers him: 
"It is my reckoning that if we move fast, we can catch up with them perhaps in two days. We will have to move quickly because Mouse correctly fears them trying to cross the Redwater. We must catch them before that happens, or if not try to get before them and block their way. We cannot let them reach their own lands or else we could not hope to stop them." 

"Is there anyone else who knows this area and who can describe what we will be facing? I myself have been following the Szreldor eastwards, however, that has been further south. If we want to come up with a plan, we have to know what we can expect." 

"Sure," says Mouse. "I know of a man who knows that area well and has no love for the Szreldor though he is one of them by blood. His name is Ongas and he will be sure to aid us. With him to aid us, we could maybe get past the Szreldor to set an ambush if we were quick." 

"Where can we find this Ongas, Mouse?" asks Lochan. 

"You do not find Ongas," smiles the scout. "For if you try, you will only push him away from you. Ongas will come to us if he wishes. Do not worry Captain, Ongas is a strange fellow but knows which side is the enemy. He might have an interest in our Gargath friends anyway." 

Gwalchmai stands at this point and speaking to the Captain and Lochan as his leader and says: "I would seek aid from my people in this but I see that we will not be near to their lands before we try an ambush. I will go with you as far as catching the Szreldor but then I must seek my kin further south. I will see what Conall Sleaghach has to say about these events and return to you later with news." 

Captain Harmal nods. "Then I thank you as a Northman brother, Gwalchmai McGhwaldhad. Your sword arm will count for many in this attack I'm sure." 

"Wait!" Relg interrupts: 
"Gwalchmai, does that mean that you are not accompanying us any further after we caught up with the Szreldor band?" 

"That is so, friend. For now I will indeed ride with you but after... well, I have fears for my people if these large bands of Szreldor are around and until I can check on them, I cannot make other decisions. Perhaps in a few months I will have cause to ride again north and come upon your path. Then, we may again ride together. Anyway, let us drink now while we can. Barman?" 

Relg takes a long look at the huge Northman, but then he nods. "Yes, let's drink on the future, and on the days we will be riding together." 

The door to the tavern opens once more and a group of farming men enter and form a group at the bar. The cold wind that blows through the entranceway, flickers the oil lanterns and makes the open fire in its grate roar and crackle. Grum's wife pulls a shawl about herself and goes to close it once more. 

To Captain Harmal, Relg says: 
"There is no need for any asking of me and my men. Our main goal is to destroy the Szreldor and as long as there are only one of these rats still alive, our task is not finished." But not as loud as before, Relg continues: 
"And as I said before, we might be forced into a battle the importance and size of which we cannot yet oversee ... and the outcome of which is uncertain. But who are we to question the future?" 

It is at that moment, when Relg is perhaps wanting to say more, when Arekhel appears amongst the group and heads for the outer door. Relg swiftly gets to his feet and approaches Arekhel. "Fair lady, don't you think we should continue our conversation, while we have the chance?" 

The Elf turns and as if suddenly noticing Relg and faintly nods, then leaves through the front door. Relg takes his sabre and follows her out, leaving Maleg who uses the opportunity to go to the bar for another drink. He avoids the group of farmers and gestures to Grum for a refill. 

Meraina meanwhile has lost interest in the talk of battle plans and moves away to enjoy her own company across the room but her privacy is short-lived. Her attention is soon drawn by a name that is spoken by four rough-looking individuals at a table near to where she sits. She pauses to make sure that what she heard was what she thought and then, her interest suddenly alerted, moves her chair discreetly so she can overhear without them noticing. 

….. 

While talking outside the tavern entrance with Relg, Arekhel notices a figure sitting with head bowed at the side of the village well. The man hasn't noticed them and Arekhel grabs Relg's arm and whispers in his ear, nodding to the figure by the well: 
"Isn't it Sealvach there? Near the well... what is he doing, and where is Heladil?" 

Relg's eyes search the place, looking where Arekhel is pointing. "Yes, perhaps you are right. Maybe we should talk to him..." Slowly, they walk over to figure who, although disguised is easily guessed by the fleet-sighted Elven woman. "So, the rat hunter is back?" asks Relg. "That means you have been successful, otherwise you would not have returned. Am I right? Did you bring their hides as proof as you promised? And where is Heladil?" 

Seeing his disguise blown, Sealvach looks up and lowers his voice to them: 
"Ranal and Megrin are in the village. We followed their tracks till the end of the western trail but from there, your guess is certainly better than mine... Any news?" He leaves the well and moves over to rest with his back against the tavern wall, and his eyes try to pierce the darkness around and above the roofs. 

Between them, Relg and Arekhel fill in the recent details since the group split up. To the earlier question Sealvach answers: "Heladil stands guard on the north side of the village from a high place. I'm to join him back there soon..." 

It is at that moment that a high pitched wailing scream is heard from one of the dark buildings across the street. The scream, clearly that of a woman, echoes suddenly once more across the market square and is then promptly cut off. The group of three at the well hear it, as does Billy elsewhere, and Raddish upstairs in the tavern. Froin, Boldor and Fabur hear it for it comes from their street and even as Coru is slowly returning from the hill, the eerie sound reaches upwards to catch his attentive senses. 

Unfortunately, the group inside the common room cannot hear the sound for something else has suddenly attracted all their attention. 

The leader of the group of eight villagers, a broadly muscled man with a soil-stained shirt and huge hands stands forward from the group at the bar and stares at Maleg. "So? What do we have here? A Szreldor, left behind by his little friends. Eh?" The group around him chuckle loudly but Maleg says nothing, awaiting his drink. "Hey, little Szreldor man doesn't seem to hear us, doesn't want to speak to us. Maybe his mum cut his tongue when he was small? Eh?" Louder laughter ensues and Captain Harmal turns round to watch them, breaking off from his conversation. 

"We don't think its such a good idea for little Szreldor boy to be here after what his friends did to our village, do we? Eh? I'm talking to you, scum so damn well listen!" and the man moves forward to reach for Maleg's shoulder, his other hand suddenly balled into a fist round his tankard. 

Lightning fast, Maleg is no longer there but stands feet apart to the side, knife out, ready to strike. The larger man roars and throws his pint of ale at the Gargath warrior who avoids it easily and the drink splatters over the rest of the group at the table. 

"That's enough!" shouts Harmal as beside him, Gwalchmai roars and gets to his feet. The Captain steps forward and grabs at the first villager's arm to block his aimed punch at Maleg as the other seven men shout and lunge forward into the fray.