“Don’t you dare touch her,” Harruq said.

“Lower your weapons,” the wizard said. “We have no desire to hurt you.”

The fire left Qurrah’s whip. Harruq sheathed his swords, glaring at the cloaked man with open hatred.

“God-damned pansy-tripping cowardly weaselwhip-using orc-kisser!”

The short warrior jumped to his feet, fuming.

“Don’t worry, Brug,” the wizard said. “Being useless in this battle doesn’t make you useless as a whole.”

Harruq raised an eyebrow at the yellow-garbed wizard, who was levitating down to join them. A nod from him, and the cloaked man removed the sword from Aurelia’s face.

“Is there a reason you attacked us?” Aurelia asked. “Or did you just feel like a little fun?”

“One could have a lot of fun with you,” the wizard said, blatantly examining her lithe and firm body. “But, it would be impolite without first knowing my name. I am Tarlak Eschaton, at your service.”

“Did I miss something here?” Harruq asked.

“You missed a few of Haern’s swings, by the looks of your face,” Tarlak said. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you a healer, if you want.”

Qurrah joined his brother’s side, his whip dragging along the ground. He put another hand on the burly half-orc’s arm, hoping for patience, but not expecting it.

“State your purpose,” Qurrah said.

“It’s simple, really. The King has banned elves from Veldaren. Elves also happen to be a sneaky bunch. They can disguise themselves, as, say, a noble woman from a far off country. So our little gang of mercenaries was hired to flush out and remove any such sneaky elves.”

He bowed again to Aurelia.

“My apologies, but you must leave.”

A woman entered through the doorway, dressed in the white robes of Ashhur. Red hair fell down past her shoulders. Her face had soft, curved features, and she bore a strong resemblance to Tarlak.