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By Root 952 0

after all, but instead of shouting an alarm he started (imagine such lucky stupidity!) reflexively putting away the illegal flask. The moment of delay was enough for Haladdin to pull the butt of the arrow to his chin and habitually drop the aim an inch below the target – the clearly backlit head of the sentry; twenty paces, a stationary target, even a baby won't miss. He did not even feel the pain of the bowstring slamming his left arm, for it was immediately followed by the dry and loud, as if into wood, thwack of the arrow hitting home. The Easterling threw up his hands – the unlucky flask still clutched in one – turned on a heel and slowly dropped. The baron sprinted forward and was already past the dead man when a muffled cry sounded from the fire – the sergeant's scimitar slammed into one of the three men lying to the north of the fire, and the silence immediately shattered into a thousand screaming, howling shards.

Haladdin followed his orders by circling the camp, staying outside the circle of light and yelling in different voices: "Surround them, guys, let no sumbitch escape!" and suchlike. Instead of scattering, the sleep-addled mercenaries instinctively stayed by the fire. On the southern approach Tangorn hit three of them; one immediately folded, clutching his stomach, and the baron snatched his sword – a wide and, Tulkas be praised, straight one – tossing away the scimitar he had to use initially. The light of the fire fell on his face, and the two remaining Easterlings abruptly dropped their weapons and ran off, screaming: "Gheu, gheu!" (a kind of vampire into which unburied dead are supposed to turn). Surprised, Haladdin was slow to open up on them and apparently missed both – in any event, they vanished into the darkness. In the commotion Tzerlag had wounded another 'northern' Easterling and was now calling out from the side: "Hey, Eloar, you coward, where are you? I came to you to exact the blood-price of Teshgol!"

"I'm here, you spawn of Morgoth," a scornful voice replied, "Come over, I'll scratch you behind the ears!" and, addressing his troops now: "No panic, carrion eaters! There're only three of them, we'll do them like babies! Kill the slanted-eyes, he's the chief, and stay away from their archer!"

The Elf appeared beside the fire on the right – tall, golden-haired, clad in light leather armor – his every move and every feature conveying a bewitching impression of sinuous deadly power. He resembled his sword – a thin shimmering ray of bluish starlit ice, the very look of it sent shivers through Haladdin. Tzerlag swung his scimitar with a hoarse cry – a feint to the face and an immediate right arc to the knee; Eloar parried the blow casually, and even a field medic (second class) knew right away that the sergeant has bitten off more than he could chew. The master of stealth and infiltration has met a master of the sword, and the only question now was whether he'd be finished off in two or three thrusts. Tangorn understood it best, so he raced across the fifteen yards separating him from the fight in a flash and laid into the Elf from the left, yelling at the haphazardly retreating scout: "Cover my back, dumbass!"

A professional at work (no matter what profession) is always fascinating to watch, and here there were two pros of the highest caliber. Too bad that all of the few spectators were too busy with their own affairs to admire the show – mostly they were trying to kill each other, which takes a certain amount of concentration. Nevertheless both partners put their all into their work, their tightly choreographed moves fitting precisely in the gaps of the deadly lace being crocheted by their shining blades. Tangorn's remark about covering his back was quite a propos – the sergeant immediately had to take on the two remaining Easterlings, one of whom was thankfully lame. Haladdin, armed only with a bow, was under strict orders not to get into the melee or even get out of the dark; firing on that tangle of friend and foe would be sheer madness, so he milled around the edges looking for a good