They did not have to wait long for their chance.

The group, confident they had dealt with most hostile wildlife and that their weapons could deal with anything they had missed, relaxed as the day progressed, the guards slouching as they sweated under the midday sun. It wasn't a guard Rial and Tala went for, however.

Using Mead to keep them updated with the movements of each of the ten men, they focused their attention on a pair who, from the middle of the afternoon onwards, were engaged in a furious shouting match that echoed over the camp and through the trees in which they hid. The men's companions, growing tired of the constant noise, drove them away from the camp and out onto the grassland.

Tala watched from the shadows as Rial crept closer to the two men, who stood face to face and were so involved in their argument that neither noticed the robed figure advancing in a crouch towards them. Rial was almost upon them when, with a shout of anger, one raised his rifle and shot the other straight through the chest. A spray of red burst from the man's back, carried in a perfectly straight line for metres before raining down onto the soil below.

The dying man's eyes widened as the shock of the shot flung his head back and revealed Rial standing close behind his killer with sword raised. The man’s last action was to lift a trembling finger up towards the swordsman before he fell backwards with a thud.

All that was left was for Rial to bring the hilt of his sword down on the other man's head. Tala swore when that didn't happen.

In his surprise at the sudden violence in front of him Rial froze for too long, less than a few seconds but still easily long enough for his target to notice the extra shadow at his feet and spin, rifle rising for another shot.

Time slowed as light blossomed from the pack slung beneath Tala's shoulder, a vivid yellow light that chased away the shadows of the trees. Shadows from which Tala was already well away.

She smashed shoulder-first into the man at the same time as she snapped his hand back at the wrist, slamming a fist into him and sending the rifle arcing into the air. Their momentum carried them onwards and then the both of them were on the floor, tumbling and rolling around each other in a flurry of kicks and punches faster than the eye could keep up with. The fight became an endurance match from which Tala eventually emerged, bloodied and bruised, standing over her unconscious opponent who was curled up on the torn soil below.

"Uh..." said Rial, sword still raised above his head.

Tala waited, fists bunched, for her breathing to calm and heartbeat to slow. She was coated with sweat and blood.

"That was... amazing," said Rial, slowly dropping his hands and sheathing his sword. "Actually amazing. You..."

He shook his head in awe, then looked briefly troubled.

"But..." he said, nervously.

"But what?" snapped Tala. The adrenaline still surged through her. She stared at him until he shifted uncomfortably.

Rial stared down at the unconscious man.

"Help me get him somewhere we can have a talk, will you?" she growled at her suddenly mute companion.

"And the other?" asked Rial, nodding towards the man who had been shot. The corpse stared open-eyed up towards the sky.

"They'll find him, or something else will."

They dragged the man towards the forest, Tala returning a few minutes later grumbling under her breath to gather the two coilguns from where they lay. She slung them by the straps over her shoulder.

It was a while before they felt they had gone far enough, but once they were deep within the murky, dappled light of the thick vegetation they tied the man to a tree and examined their prisoner.

He was a grizzled, square-jawed man with skin darkened and crinkled by the cruelties of the outside world. A number of scars ran over both his face and bare arms, a particularly nasty one forming a dark curve around his neck.

"Someone tried to hang him," said Tala, pointing at the scar.

Rial nodded but said nothing, finishing the bindings that would hold the man's wrists behind him around the tree trunk. As he pulled the ropes tight the man stirred.

"Who are you?" demanded Tala, not allowing the man time to gather his wits.

She delivered a sharp slap to his cheek when the man only mumbled.

"Who are you, and where did you get these guns?"

She swung the point of the coilgun up and into the man's face.

This seemed to bring the man around. His eyes swung inwards to focus on the barrel between them and he smiled.

"Ha! You know how to use that, do you darling?" he laughed.

Tala jerked back. The man spoke exactly as had the bandits that had ambushed them outside the city, months ago. From Rial's reaction she saw he noticed it, too.

"Seriously?" she said, leaning back in and eyeballing the man. "You want to play it like that, do you, darlin'? We met another person who spoke like you. He's dead now. Him, and all his friends."

The prisoner's eyes narrowed and he met her stare.

"Is he, now?" said the man. His voice betrayed no fear, only suspicion. Suspicion and contempt. "Well then, that is good to know. We've been searching for those who did for Arbatrust and his guys for a while now. Had to get through a whole lot of village folk to find out about you. You are from the city, right?"

Tala felt her core shaken by his words, and she struggled to keep her reaction hidden. She forced herself still, not even blinking.

"Manorest? What did you do to them? Where are they?"

Something in her voice must have betrayed her because the man laughed, tossing his head back so the noise resounded through the trees before being swallowed by the shadows.

"They're working. Everybody's working," he chuckled, fixing his stare on her once more. "You should be, too. It's for the good of the species. Gonna take back this land, gonna flay every living thing that threatens us, gonna make it safe for mankind again. And we've got more than those rifles, I can tell you."

The man pushed his temple against the barrel of the gun, his smile not fading. Tala’s finger hovered over the trigger.

Rial leaned forward and placed two fingers atop the barrel, forcing it gently downwards to point at the ground. Tala stepped back, suddenly tired, as Rial sat cross-legged in front of the prisoner.

"You say they're working? How?" asked Rial, gazing coolly at the man.

"Working on this, working on that," replied the prisoner. His grin grew wider.

"What about those who don't want to, or can't, work?"

The man's smile was wider than his face, now.

"Ain't those who don't or won't," he said. "All's gotta work, and we've got the ways of making 'em."

Rial said nothing as he stood, turning his back on the man to look at Tala.

"Slavers," he said, drawing out his sword. "It's slavers who have found the weapons."

He moved in a blur, one moment stood casually facing her, the next turned shoulder-on, robes billowing and sword blade buried deep within the trunk of the tree, passing cleanly through the prisoner's neck. There were a few silent seconds before rivulets of blood began running down the bladework, pouring through channels carved into the metal before draining off to water the ground beneath.

"We will stop them."