James starts out on the track up the mountain.  The ground is muddy from the rain, which is still falling in a steady downpour, and the way is steep.  Somehow though, James' boots do not slip on the path, and he makes good time as he climbs the flank of Kolvir.

Only a little more than half an hour after leaving the castle, voices carry to him on the wind, speaking in a language he doesn't recognise.  It seems to bear little relationship to Thari, consisting mostly of guttural grunts and low-pitched whistles.  Somebody, or something, is ahead of him, and probably doesn't belong there.

James came out here to test his armour and weapons, and it seems that luck has presented him with an opportunity to do so...

James stops.  His first reaction is that, this close to the castle, it must be animal noises or bird song.  But there are patterns to the sounds; it's language, though James doesn't have a clue what's being said.

That's not good.

James steps off the path on the uphill side and moves behind the nearest cover. He slings his gun over his back and pulls the strap tight.  This is not the time to take chances with a weapon that might not work.

He moves off, as quietly as possible.  The armor is silent, no rattling, scraping or clanking to give away his position.  On the other hand, James isn't used to the bulk and every so often he finds himself brushing against or pushing through things he had thought to miss.

He's trying to get close enough to see those talking, preferably from higher ground.

Moving quietly up the incline, and around to parallel the path, James reaches a point where a steep slope gives him a good view.

Below him the path itself passes close to a pool of clear water gathered in a shallow depression.  The rain has doubtless added to the pool, a fact which the creatures gathered there are taking advantage of.  They are filling water skins, and talking in their odd language.

There are five of them, big, but mostly human looking, apart from the long tail and somewhat bestial face.  Every one of them looks to be between six and seven feet tall, and burly with it.  All have black curly hair, and long beards.  Each of them is clad in bronze scale armour over red-dyed leather, and they carry a variety of weapons, ranging from swords, to axes, to maces.

No ranged weapons though.

He should attack, he really should.  James has the advantages of surprise, position and ground.  But there is still the slim possibility that Amber has foreign allies of which James is ignorant.  These may be the residents of one of the Golden Circle worlds and James has no way of determining their allegiance.  Even if he declares himself, they may not speak Thari at all.

It is a risk, but James resolves to stay out of sight and wait.

The group of soldiers stay near the pool, even after they've finished getting fresh water.  They're still talking in their strange language, but every so often they stare up the path, in the direction that James was heading.  Their body language, punching their fists against tree trunks, pacing up and down, shaking their heads seems to suggest that they are growing impatient with somebody, or something.

After a short while a man appears, coming down the path.  At least, he looks like a man.  Shorter than the beast-men, and lacking a tail, he is wearing the same style of armour as they are.

As he reaches the pool, he speaks to the soldiers waiting there, "It is as I thought.  The path seems to be the one which leads up the mountain, to the Tir stair.  Are the T'chuk ready, Sergeant?"

The beast-man snarls, then replies in a close approximation of the same language, "T'chuk all time ready big much.  We go now take all.  Glory for T'chuk."

Well, that rather settles that.  If they are striking for the Tir stair then the obvious conclusion is that elements of the strike force are already within Amber's defences.  James considers his options momentarily.  Engaging in melee when he didn't know his opponents technique, strength or speed was foolhardy at best.  Maybe it was time to risk an experiment.

James unslings his gun.  It takes longer than he would like and he silently curses his decision to tighten the strap.  There is no time for an aimed shot.  Fortunately that shouldn't be an issue.  The gun's power is such that, if it fires at all, a called shot will be irrelevant.

Officer or sergeant? Which will disrupt the enemy more? Sergeant The T'chuk don't seem to like taking orders from the officer.

James squeezes the trigger.

James squeezes the trigger.

It's hard to tell who is most surprised.  The officer stands there, slack jawed as the loud report rolls down the mountainside.  The T'chuk watch, confused, as their sergeant falls into the pool.  James was never sure the weapon would work this close to Amber.  The sergeant, too, is most likely (very briefly) surprised.

The pool starts to take on a blue-black tint, and two of the troops splash into the water to drag the sergeant out.  The others, the officer too, simply stand there, unsure what to do.  The body is hauled out, and the rescuers poke their fingers into the gaping hole in the armour.

And still the others stand about.  Baffled.  As if they have never had to deal with gunfire before.  One of the two with the body manages to fish out the bullet, and examines it curiously, before showing it to the officer, who can instantly see that it isn't a natural phenomenon.

"Everybody hide.  It's a weapon of some sort."  The officer leads by example, moving towards the trees.  The T'chuk start to scatter.

It works?!  &*$# me!  James first thoughts reflect his surprise.  His second thoughts note that he is out of practice and needs to adjust his grip to better handle the recoil.  His third thought is that it's time to move.

It's very tempting to shoot a few more of the T'chuk before they find cover.  Very tempting, but that's how a lot of good shots become dead snipers.  Even if they didn't see the muzzle flash, it won't take them long to track the noise of the gunshot.  Better to move and shoot, try to keep them off balance and chasing shadows until reinforcements arrive.

So, where do I go to get a shot at this location?

James moves off, sticking to cover as much as possible.  As he goes another thought occurs to him.  If the advance party hasn't any means of moving between worlds then he may be able to lead any pursuers a couple of shadows off true and lose them there.  On the other hand, trying to shift this close to Amber would be difficult, requiring more concentration than he could easily spare.

A last resort, then.

The T'chuk spread out into the forest, but they seem more concerned with finding cover than in finding the cause of their sergeant's death.  The way they move, hunched over, and with their heads lowered, makes it unlikely that they will see much anyway.  One of them even runs straight into a tree, and spends a brief moment laying on the ground, checking himself for bloody holes, before scrambling around the trunk and pressing his back against it.

James, meanwhile, changes his position, moving down from the low cliff, and finds himself a new position, mostly concealed by brush and undergrowth.  From there, he can see two targets.  The T'chuk has its back turned, peering around a boulder towards where the sergeant still lays.  The officer though, leans against a tree.  Though facing towards James, his eyes are closed, and he is muttering something rapidly.  At last, he crosses his hands before his chest, then raises them, still crossed, to touch his forehead.

Only then does he open his eyes, looking towards the sky.

He doesn't seem to have spotted James.

James eyed the potential marks down the length of his gun.  The officer was the logical target.  He was the next link in the T'chuk command and the only one likely to have any experience of firearms.  With him dead, James gained a significant advantage.  It should be simple enough to keep the rest of the troops chasing shadows until Kallum arrived with reinforcements.

It pained James slightly to kill a man who was unaware of his presence and appeared to be praying.  On the other hand, years of soldiering had taught him that war respects only a certain ruthless pragmatism.  For all James' knew the officer was calling in an Archon air strike.

Sorry.

James squeezes the trigger.  And is moving again, barely pausing to see the outcome of his shot.

The officer slumps over sideways, and the nearer T'chuk howl in fear as the echo of the shot fades away, pressing themselves deeper into whatever they happen to be using for cover at the time.

One of them barks something, and points to where James is moving again.  Two others raise their heads hesitantly, and then all three are up and moving towards James at a fast run.

The rest of the group stay down, or start to crawl away from James.

James risks a glance over his shoulder as he goes and sees three T'chuk closing on him.  This is what comes of not having a sniper rifle.

James waits until he comes to a small open space in the forest, then turns and shoots from the hip, hoping to even the odds before the T'chuk close to melee range.  He then flicks the safety on and tosses the gun to his right while side-stepping quickly to his left in an attempt to disorientate the remaining attackers.

One of the T'chuk goes down, screaming and pressing his left hand to his right shoulder, and a tree trunk behind him suffers a small explosion which scatters splinters in all directions.  The right arm hangs limp, and the T'chuk starts pushing himself backwards across the ground with his legs only, leaving a trail of blue-black blood behind.

One of the remaining two runs straight at James, swinging a heavy face at his head, but the man sidesteps, and the creature stumbles past him, off-balance.

The final one turns away, and starts searching for the weapon which James had cast aside.  With a triumphant snarl, he snatches it up, and peers at it curiously.

So far, so good. The T'chuk had reacted almost exactly as James hoped.  That didn't mean he was out of trouble, though.  Best not to assume that the T'chuk were stupid just because they had no experience with firearms.  If the one holding the gun worked the safety, James, well, he hadn't tested the gun against the armour and didn't hope to anytime soon.

James gives the stumbling T'chuk a helpful shove and launches himself at the other, striking hard with hands, elbows and knees at the T'chuk's face, neck and groin.  The T'chuk may have a canine cast to its features but its physiology was human enough.  At any rate, fighting at this range made it all but impossible to bring the gun to bear.

One of the T'chuk goes bouncing and rolling down the slope, howling and yelping with every impact.  It crashes into a dense thicket of undergrowth and disappears, falling silent a moment later.

That leaves James with just a single opponent.  As the man charges, the creature raises the gun, but attempts to use it as a club.  It misses on the first try, and staggers back as James hammers a rain of blows into it.  Falling back a little way, it swings with the gun again, and misses once more.

Then it starts to circle James, grinning.  It gestures towards him with the gun, and then growls something in a deep guttural voice, before starting to chuckle.  A sudden lunge drives the butt of the weapon into James' gut, hard enough that he can actually feel the impact through his armour...

The hit to the gut confirms James estimate of the T'chuk's strength.  With the protection of his armour, James can probably beat this opponent in a stand-up fight, simply by attrition.  But the longer the fight takes, the more time the other T'chuk have to regroup.

James decides to test the T'chuk's technique.  He aims a sweep kick at the T'chuk's legs.  If I can drop him and get a hold, I'll have him cold.

The T'chuk drops, flat on its back, and James' gun flies from the creature's hand to disappear among the ferns and undergrowth.  The T'chuk starts scrambling away, backwards, but James is too fast for it.  It raises a foot to kick at him, but the motion looks awkward and lacks any real power, and James grabs the foot and twists, forcing the creature to roll onto its belly.

A heartbeat later, he has one knee pressed into (possibly) its kidneys... something vital and tender anyway, judging by the creature's obvious discomfort, and is attempting to twist one of its arms up its back.  The arm doesn't bend quite as far as a humans would before meeting apparently painful resistance.

James is, if not exactly comfortable, at least familiar with this situation.  He has more experience with wrestling than most men would care for; nothing as fancy as mixed martial arts or Greco-Roman, just kill or be killed grappling in the dirt.

For a moment James is thankful for the extra weight of his armour as he bears down on the T'chuk.  He brings up his other knee and uses it to try to momentarily pin the T'chuk's twisted arm.

With both hands free, James goes for the neck.  Once again he feels a pang of regret but concludes that there are worse ways to go than a broken neck.

The T'chuk, for all its size, does not look to be built for wrestling.  It seems to lack a degree of flexibility, and while it does appear to be generally quite strong, it is not able to effectively apply that strength once James is positioned on top of it.

There is, however, a difficulty which James had not anticipated.  The creature's neck is considerably more sturdy than that of a human.  Quite simply, it refuses to break, forcing James to shift to a choke hold, which he maintains for some time after the T'chuk stops struggling and slips into unconsciousness.

The gun is easily located, and James retrieves it before considering what to do next.  The T'chuk remains motionless, and there is no sign of the one that rolled down the slope.

James is quietly relieved.  Mistaken assumptions could prove dangerous and James was pleased that the only penalty in this instance was that the T'chuk would live to wake up, in time, with a vicious headache.

He releases his hold once he is sure the T'chuk can't be faking and slips off quietly into the bushes in search of his gun.  Once he has that (and thumbed the safety off again), James heads up-slope.  There's not a lot of planning involved, just the thought that, if possible, he'd like to stay between the main T'chuk force and the Tir stair.

James returns to the path and continues up the flank of Kolvir, heading for the stair to Tir-Na Nog'th,

The going is relatively easy for the first half mile or so, until the path grows steeper and considerably more uneven.  Still, James makes good time, even though in many places the path is barely distinguishable from the surrounding terrain.

Once he hears voices, but they are speaking Thari, and sound to be moving away from him, westward along the slope.  A few minutes later he comes to a place where a much narrower, less travelled trail crosses the one he is on.  The voices could definitely have been following that one, but he can no longer hear them.

James pauses briefly at the crossroads, or rather in the nearest available cover on this side of the intersection.  He's fairly confident now that he's ahead of any T'chuk advance and his first instinct is to find a good firing position and go to ground.  Unless the T'chuk are well led he could probably keep this up for another couple of hours until Kallum brings the troops out.

On the other hand, if they have a good commander they could send out a scouting screen to keep him busy while the main force pushes ahead to the objective.  Thinking along those lines, James realises, a little belatedly, that if he can catch up with whomever he heard speaking Thari, they could go back to the castle and raise the alarm.

James takes off at a run, west along the cross-track, listening as best he can for the voices he heard earlier.

James moves along the track, circling west along the flank of Kolvir.  He runs for several minutes, moving along a narrow trail through dense forest, and eventually hears voices again.  They are speaking Thari, mostly complaining about the weather.

James hurries to get closer.  Ahead of him, a donkey brays, sounding annoyed about something.

A moment later, there is an all too human scream, followed by considerable yelling, and a loud voice bellowing in a language James doesn't recognise.

James is, at first, relieved to hear the voices.  Whoever it was had gotten further than James expected and he wanted to get back to the crossroads as quickly as possible.

When the donkey brays, James thinks nothing of it; when he hears screams, though, he redoubles his pace.  It makes poor tactical sense to charge in without any knowledge of the situation but James thinks that time may be short.

James catches up with the voices, tracking them now by the yells and screams.  Or, rather, they fall back to him.  None of the people running back along the path towards him are dressed in uniforms of any description.  They look more like the common folk found in most of the cities James has visited over the course of his life.  A mixed group of men and women, and even a few children.

All look terrified.  Not one of them wants to stop and explain why.

And with good reason.  The thing which pursues them resembles a hound, except that few hounds are covered with scales which shimmer and shift colour as the animal moves.  Not many are large enough to carry half a man in their mouth as they trot along the path either.  The scorpion-like tail isn't a feature found in the breeds that James is familiar with either.

It wears a thick collar and something vaguely reminiscent of a leather vest, both items adorned with brass studs.

The thing spots James, and slows to a halt about ten yards away, regarding him with eyes which burn like embers fresh from the hearth.  It drops its grisly burden and licks at its lips with a forked blue tongue.  And then it speaks in a language which bears no resemblance to Thari, all harsh, guttural sounds and high pitched shrieks which seem to twist about, painfully, inside the man's skull.