James largely ignores the fleeing people.  His interest is in whatever has panicked them and he doubts that any will stop to fill him in, particularly armed and armoured as he is.

When he catches sight of the "hound", James halts abruptly.  He levels his gun at the creature, though he is forced to brace it firmly against his shoulder to stop the muzzle twitching as he struggles to get his breathing and heart rate back down.

James winces as the creature "speaks" in grating, alien (and deafeningly loud) tones.  He replies, "Look, I don't understand you.  For all I know you might be a prince of Chaos and an ally of Amber, but at the moment you appear to have some civilian stuck in your teeth, so you've got three seconds to explain yourself, in English, or I fire."

The creature tilts its head to one side and watches James for a moment.  Then it starts to laugh.

And in that moment, it vanishes.  And something hits James, hard, in the back of his left shoulder, knocking him forward, and spinning him round so that he is facing back the way he came.  The thing stands there, lips parted in something which looks more like a threat than a friendly grin, as it pulls back its tail.

Mist rises from its scaled hide, which seems to have acquired a thin coating of frost.  It starts to circle James, watching him intently.

James grunts, partly from the impact, partly from surprise.  "Bad...thing.  No cheating."  Despite his casual attitude, which admittedly is rather forced,  James' thoughts are rather less composed Oh *&#$!  It teleports.  And if that sting isn't poisoned then I'm a rookie straight out of basic.

James' opens up with a short, three-round burst from his gun.  He more than half expects the thing to teleport out of the way, so he is ready to dive forwards and to one side at the first sign of the creature 'leaving'.

The thing shrieks as the rounds strike it, and staggers back a few steps.  The rime is melting from its scales in thin wisps of vapour, but the its blue-black blood is still clearly visible against the thin layer of glittering white crystals.  Unfortunately there isn't really much blood, yet.

It starts to circle around James, moving widdershins.  Its eyes are fixed on the gun, and it seems to be muttering something, an unending stream of sounds which might be words, extremely vulgar words, under its breath.

After perhaps twenty seconds, it shakes itself, and the last of the ice falls from its hide.  Then it is gone.

James dives and rolls, and the sting passes through the space where his gun had been an instant before.

As he recovers, the creature is standing, watching him.  Its scales are, once again, covered with frost, and steaming gently.

James resumes circling warily.  He doesn't raise the gun again just yet.  The bullets have hurt the creature but there are no signs that it is seriously injured.  James is uncomfortably aware that he has only a single clip and no immediate means of getting more.

I fired, what, three times at the T'chuk?  Four?  Sod it, my fire disclipline's gone to hell.  I need some way of getting a kill shot.

Clearly the thing is conscious of the gun, that might be enough.  James tries to maneuvre to a position where the creature can only strike at the gun from a single position.

The thing watches James, and its mouth opens, the tongue lolling out as it pants at him.  For all its apparent intelligence, it really is just like a dog, or so it seems.  It turns to watch the man's movements with bright, inquisitive eyes, as the frost evaporates from its scales.

The creature speaks again, its strange, utterly alien voice driving into Jame's mind.

The man finds himself just the place he's looking for.  A boulder on the left, taller than he is, and a cluster of birches on the angling away from it to the right.  A nice litte "V" shaped trap, with only one way out.

He backs in, slowly raising his gun as the hound, now devoid of rime, takes a pace forward, and vanishes...

The instant the thing vanishes, James is moving.  He dives towards the spot where he thinks the creature will reappear, twisting as he goes so that he can fire another short burst up into the creature's belly.

It's a risky ploy.  If it works, James has a chance of hitting the creature's vitals.  From his position beneath the beast, James then hopes to roll backwards and behind it to try for a hold on the creature's tail.

Even if it works there is a risk the creature lacks a conventional anatomy (which suggests a vulnerable underside and organs located in the torso and abdomen) and all he will achieve is to hurt the creature some more.  On the other hand, if James has guessed wrong, he'll wind up prone on his back firing into the air, which just sounds like a great way of getting hurt.

The creature reappears, its tail already lashing out towards where James had been an instant before...

And then it howls as a burst of gunfire rips through its body.  The thing staggers, slumping against the boulder, before falling to the ground in a motionless heap.

Its breathing is ragged, and it watches James with dull eyes as the armoured man gets to his feet.

The thing tenses and stiffens, and for a brief moment its eyes close and its breathing stops, only to resume with a shuddering gasp.

Its eyes, when they open, are still fixed on James.  Sounds come from its mouth, words in some strange tongue, perhaps, and then real words, in Thari, though a little garbled and mispronounced.

"I are... dying.  Will dju to... hare I's iskados... I's confessioning?  This is how... dju spik, yes?  Dju mast hare... I spik for that I can... to Nedredalalven... now I are dying."

James rises from a crouch and approaches cautiously.  Even as the creature lies on the ground he keeps his gun levelled, he can't be certain that it is mortally wounded and he doesn't trust it, it's too intelligent for that.

When the creature speaks, though, he lowers the gun.  Closer up, the wounds are unmistakeable.  More to the point, James feels that last words are every soldiers' right and he is honour bound to listen.

"Yes, I will hear your confession, though I don't know what power I have to grant you absolution.

The thing seems to relax, "Gut.  Dju mast to... to hare is all.  Not match to... say, but dju mast... to hare."

It pauses, taking a few uneven breaths before continuing, "I are cast-out now.  I's tribe... will not have.  I has do... wrong things."

"I hare words... of stranger when I was... cubling.  He spik, and many... follow he.  He say... say we mast take new... leader - calls he Circle... Circle of Fire.  We maked great oath... to Circle of Fire, for to... to fight for he.  We does many... wrong things for he... but we have maked oath.  Mast... do as he spiks, even... if we to know it... are wrong.  We can no... no spik that we does not...  Is oath of blood...  Can no spik 'gainst... he if we made oath... of blood.  But now... now I are dying.  I will to spik... that he are wrong."

Another pause, and when it speaks again, it sounds angrier, "I spik that... Circle of Fire are... are WRONG!  He has to spik... lies to I, and to I's... brothers.  I no to serve... he now.  I no to sing... songs of he in next life...  He I to curse... with last breathings!"

And quieter again, "I will to send... dreams to I's brothers... from next life.  Spik to they... no to serve Circle... of Fire."

It falls silent then, though it breathes still.

James nods, the creature's tale is familiar enough, though no less tragic for being common.  "We call Circle of Fire Harbonah and you were not the only ones deceived." James says grimly "Take some comfort, if you can, that death curses have more power here than almost anywhere else.  Some measure of vengeance might still be served."

"Are there more of your brothers about?  My quarrel is with Harbonah, not with your kin, and I'd rather save my bullets for him and his Seraphim." James hesitates, "Will you tell me your name?" James doesn't know what good it will do, if any, but he feels a certain sympathy for this soldier of a dirty war.  Any stronger emotions, though, are tempered by a glimpse of the mauled body of the Amberite, which lies nearby.

"I are named... [rising screech].  I think dju... not can spik that."  The thing falls silent for a while, apparently considering James' words.

"If curse will... will to harm this... Circle of Fire... this Harrow-banah... then I will to spik... a thousand times... ten thousand curses.  Like to the stars... in the sky... I curses he."

Anothe lapse into silence, then, "I's brothers not be near.  I are lone dying.  I need dju to hare... I's iskad... "

The voice fades away, and the creature closes its eyes.  Still the thing's breathing continues, though shallower with each passing heartbeat.

"You're right, I can't."

James kneels down.  Given the size of the creature he is now dangerously close to the thing's mouth should it attempt to bite him, but James considers the chances of that are fleeting.

Of more concern is the time delay.  Every moment puts the Seraphim's pawns closer to their objective.  On the othe hand, having agreed to hear the creature's confession, James feels compelled to stay.  So he waits in tense anticipation for the creature to speak again.

"I are... dying.  Time is."  The thing's eyes flicker open, and it manages to raise its head, though not without considerable effort.  What follows is a long, drawn-out, howling screech, with rhythmic variations in tone and volume.  It sounds like a song in the things native tongue.

Or a prayer.

"Time... is... "

And then it slumps down.  The ragged breathing stops entirely, and does not start again.

James doesn't understand a word of the creature's death-song.  Even listening to it is uncomfortable and, at times, painful.  Still, he kneels in silent witness till the creature breathes its last.

He has a choice to make now.  He can return and engage the T'chuk; try to slow them down again till reinforcements arrive.  Or, having come closer to Amber already, he can run to the nearest guard station and fetch help himself.  It's a difficult decision, as he doesn't know the attackers' strength.

The T'chuk will have regrouped by now.  If they have a halfway decent leader they will ignore me the next time I engage, knowing the damage I can do is limited.  At best they will try and swarm me.  I may be able to give them the slip but maybe not.

Decision made, James pushes back to his feet and sets off at a run for the castle.

James runs.

Downhill it's even fairly easy, apart from occasional, fleeting, concerns regarding stability.  He does stumble once or twice, and even manages to collide with a tree on one occasion.  But he has other things on his mind, so he keeps moving.

Time enough to worry about bruises later, when the fate of Amber isn't at stake.

About half way back to the castle, he almost runs straight into a group of soldiers.  Luckily he spots the uniforms just before he is among them, and realises that it's Kallum and his hand-picked troops.

"What's this James?  Hurrying back to finish off my brandy?"

James had to make a strenuous effort to avoid colliding with any of the approaching soldiers.  His momentum, at a run, in full armour, had been enough to splinter the side of a tree (and knock James on his backside).  He would be lucky not to break bones were he to run through one of Kallum's troops.

As a result, it takes James a moment to recover his balance and his wits.  "I wish."

"No, I came to get you.  There are enemy troops on the stair already.  Unless we get very lucky we won't have time to lay an ambush.  We'll need to aim upslope a ways just to intercept them before they reach Tir."

"You know the area better than I do.  Lead on and I'll tell you what I know."

Callum responds quickly, turning to the men with him, "Straight up to the next fork, lads, then take a right.  Quick as you can, we'll be right behind."

As the men start to move away, Callum grins at James, and claps one hand against his back, "You know you gave some of them a bit of a scare, dressed in that, don't you?  Especially the speed you were moving when you came down the slope."

"If you've got your breath back, we can head up.  Wait.  What am I saying?  Even in that armour, and after running over half the mountain, you could probably outrun me.  Come on."

The two men set off up the path.  Before the first fork they catch up with the rest of the men, and take the lead.

"Do you have a plan for when we get there?"

James grimaces, although his visor conceals his expression.  "People keep asking me that.  I keep having to give the same answer: I don't know enough to plan.  I don't know the terrain, I don't know troop numbers and disposition.  I don't know enough about equipment, capabilities and morale."  James keeps his voice down, particularly as they pass through the column, there's no point announcing the intelligence gaps to the troops.

"I'll take any suggestions you've got, otherwise I'll send a quarter of our guys under a sergeant you trust downhill as a blocking force and we'll take the rest uphill as fast as we dare and try to get ahead of the T'chuk."

"I'll tell you a few things I do know, though.  I know my gun works, I know that'll raise a few eyebrows back at the Castle and I know those T'chuk are going to be scared as hell of me before we're done."

"Ah, so it's the same plan as usual, then?" Callum responds with a laugh, "Good to know.".

Then, more seriously, "The terrain is clear around the stair itself.  Not too steep, at least in the immediate area."

"As we make our way up, we'll be in forest, right up to about a hundred feet downslope of the stair.  From this angle, it's just a narrow path through the forest.  We'll reach a low cliff that lays across the path, maybe fifteen or twenty feet high, but the path follows a narrow gorge that cuts into the cliff, and slopes up to the plateau on top."

"The gorge hits the plateau perhaps fifty or sixty feet from the stair.  All open ground there, with the exception of some boulders and a few bushes."

"Okay, then.  I've heard worse.  We need to make the top of the plateau first.  We can ambush them as they come through the gorge, but we've got to get there first.  C'mon lads, double time." James pushes ahead at a jog.  He doesn't want to tax the soldiers endurance too far as he doesn't want them exhausted before a fight, but it's critical they gain the high ground.

James leads his troops up the side of Kolvir, moving as quickly as they are able.  Callum urges him on, "The faster we get there, the more rest they can have before the enemy turns up."

Then he falls back to the end of the column to heckle any stragglers.

"Jakes!  I thought you were always bragging about how good you are!  How come everybody else is outrunning you?"

"Hells!  You're ten years younger than me, and I'm outrunning you!"

Eventually, with the day drawing on, they make their way up through the gorge Callum had mentioned, and onto the plateau.  It looks pretty much as it had been described - an open area, roughly oval, about two hundred by four hundred feet, bounded by dense forest on three sides, and by a cliff edge on the fourth.  Approximately centred in the oval is a pile of rocks, vaguely resembling a short flight of stairs, only three steps high.

The entire area is dotted with boulders and low bushes.  Beyond the clearing, perhaps a mile away, or less, the peak of Kolvir rises only about a hundred feet higher than the stair, barely discernible through curtains of rain.

The air up here is noticeably thinner than at sea level, but not enough that it should cause any problems for the troops.

James surveys the area, looking for defensive positions.  Suddenly he feels a prickling on the back of his neck, and realises that everything has gone quiet.  He turns, just as the creature staggers out from among the trees and stops, just a few feet from the tree line.  Gazing at him with eyes which betray a certain degree of intelligence, despite being clouded by pain.

It's not as big as most people would imagine it.  Almost delicate looking as it moves a few paces closer on small, sharp hooves.  Its body is covered with scabs and weeping sores.  Clearly it is sick, swaying slightly from side to side as it stops again to watch James.

The unicorn.

James is deploying his troops even before his head crests the edge of the gorge, "I want archers in any firing positions you can find above the gorge and a defensive line at the trailhead.  Spearmen, preferably, with a rank of archers behind, and a second line close behind them."

James is about to order his reserves into position when a prickling on his neck alerts him to the presence of something behind him.  He turns and for a long moment, finds himself utterly lost for words.  The silence stretches.

"Oh...dear.  It's real.  It's really real.  It's..." The unicorn.  Here.  Now.  And so sick it can barely stand.

James finds his wits again.  He stands still, watching the unicorn out of the edge of his vision.  The unicorn is famously elusive and he doesn't want to panic it into running off.  For the same reason he keeps his tone level and calm when he speaks.  All the same, there is an edge to his voice.  The priorities may have been turned on their head but he's still giving orders and he needs Callum to understand it.

"Okay, change of plans.  I need two runners, the fittest and the fastest only.  Ditch any unnecessary gear.  That means no weapons heavier than daggers.  Run to the Castle.  Get word to Random that the unicorn is here and very sick.  If you come across anyone on the way do not approach them unless you are absolutely certain they are friends.  If you hit trouble, do not engage, split up and keep running.  Tell any of the family you meet but make sure that Random finds out as soon as possible.  Let them know that the enemy's objective might not be Tir."

"If anyone has a medical kit, I need it now.  Callum, you're in charge until I say otherwise.  Got it?"

While he waits for acknowledgment of his orders (and a medical kit), James raises his visor and takes off the dog helm, then his gauntlets.  He moves carefully, every movement as smooth and even as he can manage.  And all the while he keeps an eye on the unicorn.

Callum picks two men and quietly sends them on their way, without armour or weapons.  Then he starts issuing orders to the others, following James' instructions to the letter, while ensuring that none of the troops move too close to the unicorn.

James finds a pouch shoved into his hands and hears the gentle clink of glass from inside.

The unicorn makes no move to flee.  Instead its head slowly droops lower, as if the creature is unable to bear the weight of it any longer.  It shuffles forward a couple of yards, and stumbles, then falls to lay on the ground.

It's breathing is ragged, and its eyes, still open, have a look of feverish madness.  A cough, and dark blood splashes on the ground.