Back in Talon’s tent, the mercenary captain was brooding grimly as he stared into the fire.

“This is ridiculous!” howled Fang. “So what if you get your hands on this pig-sticker of yours? What about the rest of us? We’ve still yet to payed! You can’t be serious about…”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” snapped Talon. “And no… I’m not serious.”

“Then, we’re not keeping this promise to that bitch,” asked Thorn.

“Of course not,” Talon said. “Beating the snot out of these rangers is half the point of getting this sword in the first place. But I’ve got the get my hands on the damn thing first.”

“But what about the assault tomorrow,” asked Fang. “If we delay, we’ll piss off the goblins.”

“No matter. Fang, you will stay behind and organise that in my stead. But you will have to wait at least an hour to keep Myra from getting suspicious. If anyone asks where I am, tell them I got a case of the shits or something.”

Sting grunted. “What if she’s lying?”

Talon shrugged. “There’s no time to risk not following up on this. We’ll find out soon anything if she’s lying. If she wants to lead us into an ambush, I’ll be able to smell it from a mile away. If that’s the case… I’ll cut off her bloody legs and haul her back here. She still might know something useful. Our dear Thorn can take it from there.”

Thorn showed her jagged teeth in a smile that’d put a fox to shame. Talon filled his goblet and raised it in the air.

“Here’s to tomorrow, my good fellows. A toast to success… and… to long life.”

And so, in the predawn gloom, Myra led a trail of men through the sleepy camp, and into the tangle of giant trees. Talon followed close behind her, alongside Sting, Thorn, and a dozen mercenaries. Sting held a rope, the other end of which was bound tightly around Pike’s wrist, who was forced to stumble along with Thorn’s sabre prodding his way. His bruised and battered face was held low, but the glint from his one good eye could be seen even in the gloom.

Before long they found a narrow, but even path that wound its way uphill. It was two hours after the sun had risen, when at last passed between two of the giant trees, and saw before them a great cleft in the earth, a narrow ravine that dropped suddenly into a raging river at the bottom of a fifty foot drop. Spanning across the gap was an old rope bridge that looked rickety as fuck.

Talon called for a halt, and sent some men to cross the bridge first and scout ahead. He watched Myra closely, but if she was planning on leading him into an ambush, she showed no sign of it.

“How much farther?” he asked her.

“Not long.”

The scouts came back to report that the way was clear. With that, Myra started making her way across, Talon close behind while the rest waited on the other side. They kept both hands on the ropes either side of them, trying to keep the bridge of swaying too much. Suddenly, Myra’s feet slip, and she stumbled and fell to her knees, making the bridge shake alarmingly.

“Damn it. Watch your bloody step,” snapped Talon. He reached out a her to grab her shoulder. And as he did, he saw a glint of steel. Myra had drawn a dagger and thrust at his chest. But Talon’s had flashed out, just in time. The blade slid through his hand, the hilt slamming against the flesh of his palm. Myra tried to draw it free, but Talon’s wounded hand held the weapon in an impossibly power grip. Talon showed no signs of any pain. Only a fiery rage which Myra met defiantly. Talon’s men, waiting at both ends of the bridge, started forward, hands on weapons.

“And what… the hell do you think you’re doing.”

From behind him, Talon heard on somebody gasp in pain. While all eyes were turned to the bridge, Pike had delivered a vicious kick into Thorn’s stomach and hurled himself to the ground, yanking the rope free from Sting’s hands. Pike rolled forward and came up at a run, hurling himself into the dense foliage. Talon’s men went to make chase.

“Leave him!” Talon roared. “Stay were you are! Watch for enemies!” He turned his attention back on Myra. His free wrapped hand around Myra’s throat.

“Well?” he growled, “what do you think you’re playing at? Is this it? Your genius plan of killing me?”

Though Myra could hardly breathe, her lips curled into a sneer. “That’s right,” she wheezed. “It was… worth a try.”

Talon shook his head. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“It got you… away from the camp at least.”

“What are you talking about?”

Myra’s legs curled up beneath her. She slammed her feet into Talon’s chest and did a cool somersault away from him. Talon stumbled back and drew his own knife. But Myra only stood there, leaning on one of the supporting ropes, and smiled. “Better hurry home, Talon, before you're missed.” Then, leaned over the rope, and let herself fall over the edge.

It’s all up to fate now, she thought to herself with a contended smile, as she plunged into the river below.

One awkward transition later, Talon came blustering back into his camp, his small band following behind in bewilderment. Talon stopped suddenly.

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“What’s wrong, chief?” asked Sting.

“Something’s wrong,” Talon muttered, glancing about him. “The assault should’ve started by now…”

Quickening his pace, he marched into his own camp. “Fang! Where the bloody hell are you!” As he approached his private tent, he had his answer.

Crowded before his tent was a company of goblins and mercenaries from other bands. The goblins’ vice-commander, Brag, was before them grinning beneath his bristling moustache.

“Good morning, Captain Talon.”

“Brag? What’s the meaning of this. Where’s my lieutenant?”

Brag stepped aside, allowing to soldiers to drag a captive Fang forward, bound and gagged and bloodied.

“You dare lay hands on one of my men?” Talon growled. “Start explaining yourself Brag, before I have your guts for a washing line.”

“No… Captain Talon. It is you who has to do the explaining. Where exactly have you been all morning?”

Talon sneered. “Taking a shit. With your food, half the men here have the runs. What of it?”

Brag nodded. “Yes. Of course. Such a huge shit, that you had to disappear from camp entirely, with a whole bloody entourage.”

Talon crossed his arms. “What are you getting at? If you’ve got something to say, come out and say it already.”

“Very well then…” Brag raised a finger at Talon. “I never trusted you from the start. And for good reasons it seems. By the authority of Lord Hobb, deputy of the Great Goblin, I’m putting you under arrest for breaching your contract, and allying yourself to our enemies!”

Talon was taken aback. “Are you mad?!”

“Am I? Admit it. You left camp this morning to have a secret meeting with the rangers! You were conspiring to betray us all!”

“Nonsense! What proof do you have?”

“Bring the boy forward!” At that, more soldiers approached, escorting a timid looking Nail between them. He too clearly had been beaten “This one admitted to hearing you say… explicitly… that you promised someone that you agreed to breaking our contract. There’s no use denying it. Now. Surrender yourself peacefully, and you may yet avoid consequences. Lord Hobb will allow you to remain in captivity only until the war is over.”

Talon ground his teeth, seething with rage. Then, his eyes fell to the sword at Brag’s belt.

“Where…” he stammered. “Where did you get that?”

Brag raised an eyebrow, then looked down at the thing. “Oh, this? You recognise it do you?”

The goblin drew the sword, its black blade shining wickedly in the early morning light.

“This was a peace offering… you could say. A pretty gift, from the person that warned me yesterday about your betrayal. The woman that you had in your camp. What was her name now…?”

Those were his last words. No one could react in time, when Talon sprinted forward. He was little else but a blur as he plunged his own sword through Brag’s mouth and impaled the man’s skull. Letting the weapon go, he grabbed at the Black Sword before it fell from Brag’s twitching hands. Everyone was stunned with shock, as they watched Talon triumphantly raise the Black Sword over Brag’s corpse.

Suddenly, everything was chaos. The goblins howl with rage and rushed at Talon, or lashed out at any of his men who were near. Talon hacked through the first goblin that came into reach, feeling the power drained from the slain man channel down through the blade and into his hands, to course into his own veins. Talon, empowered by that vampiric sword, cut a bloody swathe through the goblins. But enraged as they were, they kept throwing themselves into the fray. Talon barely felt the wounds they inflicted, but still they threatened to swamp him with sheer numbers.

Talon’s men, too, fought desperately. Fang and Nail, though prisoners, were massacred were they stood. The somber giant Sting was already bleeding profusely from a head wound, and Thorn was turning and fleeing. Talon turned and ran after her, heedless of the slaughter being inflicted on his men.

The goblins were at his heels, but Talon weaved through the camp, cutting down supporting poles and letting his maddened pursuers get tangled in the debris. He ran on, when Thorn suddenly stood in his path, her saber dripping with blood.

“What the fuck were you thinking!” she cried “You’ve probably just got as all k…”

Her eyes went wide with shock for a brief moment, when the sword clove through her neck. Talon, caring only for his escape, thrust aside the headless body ran past. He had his the sword now. He would not let anything slow him down.

He looked behind him. Over the din of battle, the sound of hooves could be heard. They were sending riders after him. Filled with the extra stamina that vampiric sword had taken from his victims, Talon hurled himself into the great woodland.

An hour passed. Talon’s stamina was wearing out. Without more fresh victims, the sword could not keep him sustained forever. Now, his many wounds were beginning to take their toll. Panting heavily, he leaned against a large root and look behind him. His keen hearing picked up the distant tramping of many feet. The bastards were still pursuing him. He turned his gaze back to the path before him. At the very least, Myra’s scheme had shown the path to that bridge. He had only to cross that bridge and destroy it. That should put some distance between him and his pursuers. A shame about his men. But he had the Black Sword now. He did not have an army at his back, but he still had his cunning… He could figure something out.

The ravine came into view. With a laugh of triumph, he stumbled towards the bridge. A heavy weight smashed into his back, hurling Talon forward into the dirt. He scrambled up, seeing the sword laying in the much where he had dropped it. He desperately tried to crawl towards it, but a foot came stamping down on his hand. Pike’s bruised face a was blank, expressionless mask as it stared down at Talon.

Pike’s other foot came crashing into Talon’s face, sending the man sprawling. Slowly, Pike walked over to the sword and picked it up.

“This is what you wanted. Right, Talon?” Pike started walking towards Talon, sword in his hand.

Talon, his mouth full of blood, was filled with panic at the sight of Pike approaching him with that cold, dead stare. He tried to scramble away.

“No! Stop! Get away from me!”

Pike drew closer.

“I… I.. I never intended to kill you! We’re not enemies! I just wanted the sword! We… we can work together. I have a plan. I’ll do whatever you want. Be your servant. Tell you what I know!”

“I already told you… what I’d do once I was free. Myra said that she made a promise… to see you out of the picture. To be honest… I’ll miss her a lot more than I’ll miss you.”

Talon, in desperation, turned and hurled himself towards the rope bridge. He leapt for the bridge, but as he landed, the wooden panel gave way beneath his feet. With a long, wailing cry, Talon fell through the bridge, and disappeared into the river below.

Pike, standing at the edge of the ravine, stared down at the river, looking for Talon’s body. After a while, he turned to face the sound of the distant cannons. But as he started to walk away, he stopped and turned back to the ravine.

“I told you Myra, should have quit while you were ahead…” He strode away into the forest, wiping away the tear that crawled down his cheek.

Far away, at the bed of a gurgling river, Myra’s body lay caught in the roots of a great willow tree, sticking out of the river like a great net. She was unconscious, but alive. She was not aware of the hands that pulled her out of the water, or when they pressed against her chest, forcing the water of her her lungs. Soft lips pressed against hers as someone breathed life back into her. Her eyes flickered open, but she saw nothing but shadows against a dim sky.

“Thank the Dwarf-lords,” a woman’s voice said. “I think she’ll make it.”

“Good to hear it!” a deep voice drawled. “Say. I think I do recognise her after all…”

“And who is she?”

“She was with Erda’s party, I’m sure of it.”

“Really? But how’d she end up in this river?”

“Well whatever, hopefully she’ll revive soon, but we can’t wait around to hear stories. If they did get there safely, we need to hurry up and save them, Erda, and my Wudu, my daughter…”