It was a beautiful late summer morning, and Erol was well content.

He was actually glad he had decided to come up here with Drake, on his friend’s first visit to the manor he had been given when he was so recently knighted. He had always been a city boy, but he was finding it very relaxing to spend his time out in the fresh air, working at something constructive for a change. Getting the dilapidated manor back into useful shape was work, certainly, but at least you could see the results of your efforts made tangible.

Unlike, say,  the constant training for combat he’d spent most of his adult life performing… there, you only knew that your effort had paid off if you managed to survive other people trying to kill you. Which was a satisfying thing in itself, of course, but not as immediately obvious when you were doing the hard work. Still, he wouldn’t want to do this all the time, he knew he’d get bored pretty quick. A few days were fine, but a year of farm living and he was pretty sure he’d be homicidal.

Tarich Manor was a remote outpost in the southern Ganitor Hills of eastern Nolkior. Nestled in a narrow mountain valley, on the western bank of the small Ayax River that flowed down from the heights of Mount Eigarstal, it was less than two kilometers from the border with Tharkia. Thick evergreen forest, mounting up ridge upon ridge along the valley walls, surrounded the  long, narrow assart of the manor.

A light woodland of mountain oak dominated the cleared lands around the fields, and was currently encroaching on those fields. The fief had stood vacant for eleven years now, the previous holder having died heirless. Being so remote and isolated, no one had been anxious to claim it, and it had remained in the hands of the Earl of  Burnan, administered by a caretaker and his family. But the man’s wife had died and his sons had moved away to the excitement of the big city, and for several years he had been unable to keep up the place, much less plant the fields. The wilderness threatened to reclaim it.

But now it was the demesne of Ser Draik Bartyne, and he wanted to see it brought back to life. When he had arrived several days ago with Cris and Erol in tow, he had been shocked to see how run down the manor was, and how overgrown the fallow fields were. But the old man, Riken Horas, had assured him that with proper energy, and enough hands, it could be brought back in no time. Drake had decided to return to Dür and enlist some proper help, promising to send them back with his cousin Danyes. Erol and Cris had volunteered to stay and get started on the manor itself.

Tarich manor was a moderately sized building, two floors of stone and wood, surrounded by a palisade some 42 meters long by 36 meters wide. The palisade was well made, of seasoned logs 5 meters high and sharpened at the top, and a wide archer’s walk that ran along all side three meters above the ground. The oak and iron gates were also well-crafted, needing only some minor oiling of the hinges. Two out buildings, a stable and a workshop nestled under the walls at opposite corners of the yard, and a tall watch tower rose more than 10 meters into the sky in the northwest corner, providing a view of all the surrounding lands. Two majestic oaks stood on either side of the main door into the house, shading the yard and the well.

Too much brush and scrub had been allowed to grow close to the walls, too close for Erol’s liking, and that was the first thing he and Cris took care of after Drake had departed. They left old Riken to make a start on cleaning out the manor house itself. That evening, going through crates of old stuff stashed in the cellar and attic, Cris came upon several sets of old, but still serviceable, leather armor. He was delighted to find enough pieces that fit him to deck himself out fairly well. Erol smiled as the boy demonstrated his new costume for them by firelight, but figured if he was going to be hanging out with the Hand of Fortune, then he probably should be better equipped…

When Danyes arrived late the next day with three sturdy farm lads, Riken was happy to lay out the plan for the reclamation of the fallow fields. Too late for this year, of course, but they’d be ready for next year. All three of the new hands, Jeb, Benek and Korveth, were looking to start their own families, and Drake’s promise of land on his fief had brought them here to put in some sweat equity. The next day Cris lead the three newcomers out into the fields and Danyes waded into the cleaning and repair of the house with Riken. Erol spent the morning going over the defenses, fixing what he could, making notes about what would require more time.

It was as he was standing in the shade of one of the oaks, drinking cool water from the well and thinking how content he was, that Cris came bursting into the yard through the open gates, followed a moment later by the farmers.

“Gülvini!” Cris gasped, stumbling up to Erol and bending over, hands on knees, to catch his breath. “Saw them… down by the… creek… went to… cool off… coming down… from the… mountain…”

Erol handed him the ladle he’d been drinking from, told him to drink, breath, relax, and then start from the beginning. Which Cris did, after a moment.

As the morning grew warmer, and their work got sweatier, the men had decided they needed a break. Cris guided them to the creek that bordered the assart on the western edge, maybe half a kilometer from the manor. But as they approached the creek Cris had caught a whiff of something he recognized from an earlier encounter – the musk of gülvini! Urging the others to silence, and moving them off the road, he had snuck forward cautiously to see a band of small, whitish gülvini, and one large blackish one,  come down the hillside out of the forest.

They had come as far as the bridge over the creek, then had turned back and seemed to be making camp in a large clearing nearby. Cris hadn’t waited to see more, deciding he’d gambled enough with his luck. He made his way back to his companions, explained what he’d seen, and then lead them quietly away until he felt it was safe to run.

“There were at least six of ’em,” he concluded. “Plus the big one. They had armor and spears, that I saw; maybe other weapons. I think they know the manor is here, Erol!”

Erol wasted no time in ordering the defense of the manor. He sent the farm boys to sort through the old armor bits and outfit themselves as best they could. They were all most comfortable with a hand axe as a weapon, which maybe wasn’t the greatest choice against spears, but there were several round shields, and it would have to do. He was very pleased to learn that Jeb was considered the best shot in the hundred with a short bow, at least amongst the peasant families. They had a short bow, and twenty arrows, so Erol sent him to the archer’s walk to the right of the main gate.

By then Riken and Danyes had come out of the house, and had heard the gist of the problem. The gülvini were on the road between them and anywhere civilized, but the old man claimed to know forest paths that would get them around the beastmen and to the closest neighbor manor with little difficulty. He agreed to go, and Erol sent Danyes along with him, uncertain if the old fellow was really up for the trip.

By the time Riken and Danyes had set out to bring help Erol had his defenses in hand. Jeb on the wall with his bow, Korveth in the watch tower to alert them to any approach, and he and Cris to patrol the walls if an attack came… Korveth, too, once the enemy had been spotted, he supposed it was going to be hard to keep this much wall covered. He wished he’d thought to bring some of Mariala’s magic paper with him, then he wouldn’t have had to send two of his defenders away… but if there were only seven of the gülvini…

He decided he needed to see for himself. In as little armor as he felt was consistent with both speed and some protection, carrying his trident and his gladius (he’d rather take his battle-axe, but that seemed a bit bulky for stealth work) he had Cris open the gate to let him out.

“I’ll be back within the hour,” he said, hefting his trident. “Keep a watch, and if you see me running for the gates with the enemy behind, be prepared to open them just enough for me to get in, then slam ’em shut.

“And don’t worry,” he promised the worried-looking boy as he slipped out, “we can hold out until help comes, if we all just keep our wits.”

With that he set off down the road, or, more accurately, to the side of the road. He soon reached the edge of the near fields, wear the forest began to grow thicker, and crouched down behind a large oak that had apparently been uprooted in a storm last winter. He could see no sign of any activity on the road ahead, and eventually began to move slowly forward again, until he could hear the babble of the creek ahead.

Careful to stay under cover of the thick foliage beside the roadway, Erol cautiously approached the sturdy wooden bridge that crossed the rushing mountain stream. Even in late summer the water was running strongly and the sound masked any noise his approach might have made. He stopped to examine the woods ahead for sentries, and to consider his next move.

The banks of the stream were about 2 meters high at this point, steep and rocky, and he decided he’d make more noise (and be a more vulnerable target) if he tried to climb down and then back up, even assuming he could keep his feet on the algae-slicked rocks in the torrent. Just across the bridge the road curved to the left, around the ruins of a small tower whose jagged remaining wall stood about the height of a man. He could see no sign of Gülvini sentries in the brush or in the trees, but he could hardly expect to, depending on the breed…

He decided he’d have to risk a quick dash across the bridge, and then take cover behind the moss-covered, overgrown stones of the ruin. Feeling exposed, Erol made the dash as quietly as possible, reaching the cover of the ruined tower without apparent notice of any watchers. After a moment to be sure, he slowly worked his way along the south side of the wall, where it’s jagged top began to dip down toward the ground, until he had a decent view of the clearing Cris had mentioned on the other side of the road. Despite the shrubs and trees between the clearing and the road, he was able to make out four small gülvini, and one much larger one, gathered around a small campfire. They appeared to be gnawing at the remains of some woodland creature, hands and mouths dripping red.

The smaller ones were clearly gül-gramlini, with their white, tawny-streaked fur and almost wolfish features. That was something, Erol thought with a silent laugh; they were the least violent of the gülvini, and the ones most prone to actually treating with other races. Sometimes. But they were just as fierce and deadly as any of their cousins when it came to a fight, as he knew from experience, having fought the breed more than once in the arena.

The larger gül he was less sure of, as it had its back to him. Certainly one of the larger breeds, either gül-bogaba or gül-hovgavu, and given what he could see of its coloring, he was afraid it was the latter. The largest and most psychotic of the gül subspecies. He’d fought those, too, in the Games, and was glad there seemed to be just the one. No doubt the leader of this little group, he thought… whenever the breeds mixed, the bigger ones usually enslaved the smaller ones.

Cris had said he saw at least six of the small gülvini, which meant there might be a couple of more around somewhere. Of course Cris was young, and excitable, and high on an adrenaline rush, and could have easily inflated the numbers in his own head. On the other hand, it seemed unlikely that these war-like creatures wouldn’t have posted look-outs in unknown territory. Best to assume there were more…

Even as he was thinking this, Erol was moving further along the ever-lower ruined wall, trying to get a different angle on the clearing, to see if he could spot others that might be hidden by trees. Whether it was some small noise, or just his well-honed battle instincts, Erol could never say afterwards; but whatever the reason, he turned suddenly to find himself staring into the startled face of a gül on the other side of the now half-meter high wall.

With a silent curse he leapt from his crouch, bringing his trident around for a quick thrust even as the gül brought up his own spear. He knocked the blocking weapon aside, and took the creature in the chest. It went down with a shriek of pain and fury, to lay gasping wetly, coughing up blood amongst the stones and grasses inside the ruined ring. Erol cursed aloud now, all hope of ending the encounter unnoticed by the other gülvini having died with that shriek. He took no more than an instant to glance toward  the clearing, where the dying gül’s companions were leaping up and seizing weapons, before he was dashing back behind the ruined wall and then sprinting for the bridge.

He was a fast runner, and certainly possessed longer legs than the gül, at least the small ones… it was less than half a kilometer to the manor… he might just make it. Assuming they had no bows, of course. He felt his back itch at the thought, and just as his feet hit the wooden planks to the bridge, he caught a movement out of the corner of his left eye – a small white shape leaping from a tree across the road behind him. There had been six after all, he thought. Although why they’d missed him crossing the bridge he couldn’t imagine.

He was across the bridge and running hard now, in the steady rhythm they taught you in the Legions that conserved energy for the long haul. Ahead he could see the sunlight at the end of the shaded tunnel the forest made of the road, where it opened into the fields and meadows of the manor’s assart. Once into the light he’d be better than halfway there. The sounds of something gaining on him grew. He risked a glance back, and saw the hulking shape of the gül-hovgavu (and there was now no doubt about that) perhaps ten meters behind him. He put on a burst of speed.

But even as he sprinted into the sunlight he realized he wasn’t going to make it. He could see the palisade ahead, but it was too far and the Black Gül was almost on him as he passed the fallen oak. With hardly a conscious thought he skidded to a stop and whirled to far the oncoming beast-man, time seeming to slow around him. He had plenty of time to note the pack of five smaller gülvini, still far back on the road but coming fast, and the play of sunlight on the slaver pouring from the mouth of the black-furred monster bearing down on him, deadly mang held high for a slashing blow.

Erol crouched and the blade hissed, almost slowly it seemed to him, through the air where his head had been. At the same instant he thrust forward with his trident, striking into the leather armor of the beast’s chest, then ripping the points out again. Blood spurted and the creature roared in pain and anger.

Before the gül could pull back for another blow Erol had pivoted and thrust his trident forward again, trying for the disarming strike he’d learned in the arena. The gül tried to block with his mang, as Erol had hoped, and the tines of the trident caught his wrist between them. With a sudden twist, the creature’s weapon went flying from his grip, to land in the grass on the side of the road, and blood poured from a cut along the back of the hand.

Another roar, this time more fury than pain Erol thought, and the gül leaped to retrieve its weapon. Scooping it up and turning in one fluid movement, it was clear the creature intended to slash his opponent across the belly. But Erol was already moving in for his own attack, and this time the trident pierced the unprotected wrist holding the mang. Another twist and the hand came half off, blood spurting in  a red fountain. Almost beautiful in the midday sun, Erol thought dreamily.

The hulking gül, looking surprised more than anything, staggered forward one step, two steps… and on the third step he fell to his knees in the dust of the road, then toppled forward. Blood continued to pump from the almost severed hand, but Erol was already sprinting again, making for the manor’s walls with the pack of five snarling gül-gramlini on his heels.

As the palisade came into view, Erol realized he couldn’t make the gate far enough ahead of his pursuers to allow him to get inside – if they opened the gates for him, they’d be fighting the gül inside the compound. He’d have to make a stand outside, and hope the others could help from the walls… the kid with the short bow, at least might…

But even as these thoughts passed through his mind, Erol saw the gate open slightly, and a single figure slip out. As the gate was pushed shut behind him, Erol realized it was Cris, in the old armor and carrying a hand axe. At the same time he saw Jeb rise up over the points of the palisade wall near the gate and loose an arrow. A meaty thunk, a strangled cry, and Erol realized he had one less enemy to worry about. As he wheeled about to make his stand, next to the pale but determined-looking Cris, he saw the downed gül somewhat down the road, feathered shaft protruding from one shoulder.

The remaining four gül showed no inclination to withdraw – Erol could see that they were maddened by bloodlust and rage. It suddenly came to him that the gül-gramlini were known for a ridged code of “honor,” and that ranged weapons greatly offended that sense. Well, good, he just had time to think… an enraged opponent was not usually a thinking opponent, and that made them easier to kill… then they were on him. Two of the small white creatures went for Erol himself, while the other two closed in on Cris.

Time seemed back to normal for Erol now, although he tried to regain that place where everything slowed down. He thrust his trident at one of his attackers, who counter-struck with his spear, which slid past Erol’s shoulder even as his own weapon tore into the flesh of the creature’s upper arm. It snarled in anger as it’s companion lunged in with its own spear on Erol’s left, a blow he managed to block with his trident. This caused the gül to stumble forward, and Erol took advantage of the momentary imbalance to deliver a slashing wound to that creature’s arm as well.

Meanwhile Cris had swung his axe at the nearest of his opponents, knocking aside the beastman’s spear and thunking solidly into the armor on his hip. The creature staggered back, with a hiss, blood flowing from the wound, only to immediately leap in again to attack. Cris blocked the spear with his round shield, and almost blocked his second opponents thrust as well. But the point slipped past his guard, and gouged a burning line across his left elbow.

Another arrow from Jeb missed one of Cris’ opponents, but the next one took one of Erol’s in the abdomen, even as he succeeded in dodging the creature’s attack. The gül went down, writhing in agony for a moment before twitching into stillness. The remaining gül counter-struck again, as Erol thrust his trident at him, and this time Erol felt the spear punch through his light armor, plowing a burning furrow along his left side. But his own thrust took the gül full in the chest, and it went down gurgling blood.

Cris’ wound only seemed to energize him, as he leaped once again to the attack, dodging a gül’s counter thrust and driving his axe into the creature’s shoulder. This caused the gül to lose his grip on his spear, which clattered to the ground between them. Cris whirled to meet the attack of the other gül, and managed to land a glancing blow to the abdomen, but took another spear thrust himself, this time along his forearm, causing a gush of blood. He staggered back, and suddenly everything started to spin, and he felt very cold. As he slipped into unconsciousness the last thing he saw was the gül twisting away as an arrow narrowly missed him.

Erol saw Cris go down, just as he put his own last opponent down with a ripping thrust into the elbow that severed a major artery. Pulling his trident free, he was leaping to Cris’ aid before his last kill had even hit the ground. He saw the creature dodge the arrow that Jeb had loosed at him, and his own trident thrust forced the beastman to drop his spear and kept him from finishing off the downed boy.

Erol managed to get himself between the gül and Cris just as another arrow came from above, narrowly missing his own head and completely missing the growling gül, who had drawn a wicked looking mankar from its sheath.

“In the Hunter’s name, Jeb,” he shouted in annoyance , ” I have enough on my hands without having to worry about an arrow in the back from a friend!”

“Sorry,” the farm lad yelled back, but Erol was already leaping forward to the attack, dropping his trident and drawing his gladius. He’d rather have had his battle-axe, of course, but he’d make due…

And he did, knocking aside the counter attack and driving his short sword into the gül’s belly. As the creature fell at his feet he could hear the gates swing open behind him and Benek rushing out to Cris’ side. After making sure his last opponent wasn’t getting up anytime soon, Erol also turned to his fallen companion.

The boy had lost a fair amount of blood, but between the two they managed to staunch the flow and  carry him into the manor house. Hopefully help, in the form of the rest of the Hand of Fortune, would be here by tomorrow, and Vulk could make sure the boy didn’t take a fever. Until then his field training, and the knowledge of three youths raised on farms, would have to do.

Just as Erol finished wrapping his injury, Cris opened his eyes and looked around blearily. “What happened…?”

“You disobeyed orders,” Erol said gruffly, pressing the boy back when he tried to sit up.

“But they were right behind you,” Cris whispered, gravel-voiced. “We couldn’t open the gates… couldn’t leave you out there… alone…”

“I didn’t say you didn’t do well,” Erol smiled as he stood up. “Now get some rest. Everything is under control, at least for the moment.”

Leaving the injured youth to his sick bed, Erol took Jeb and his amazing short bow out to check on the bodies of the gülvini. By the time they got to them, all but one was dead, bled out  in the dusty country road. He decided it was worth keeping the one survivor alive, if he could, at least long enough for questioning. If there were more of their kind around, he wanted to know about it. In any case, they would keep a watch in the lookout tower until help arrived…