Swampoak held his fighting sticks higher, giving Tervil a chance to see them in more detail.  The metal bands around the ends were not just iron - there were also rings of silver.  That metal gave Tervil pause.  It wasn't an instant-kill for a canidean, but just like everything else vulgarly called a werewolf, it made their wounds stay open, and unless treated with a special mixture of herbs, any injuries would inevitably lead to a fatal infection.  Tervil's ears swiveled as he heard something else come from the mine opening, too sonorous and measured to be coming from the entangled stirges.

The boards gave way with a crack, revealing a contorted beast with three milky-white eyes.  Its boneless mouth slavered and twitched, as a pair of surprisingly strong arms reached out from a torso improbably slung beneath an enormous set of hips.  Each hand carried a crude cleaver, each blade longer than Tervil's leg.

"Tuvarith!  Look-"

Swampoak's warning was cut short as the xenos slammed into him with its shoulder, squealing something in its incomprehensible language.  Dropping into a roll, the Slayer found his feet just in time to bring his sticks around and block a double-handed swing at his head.  Gritting his teeth against the tuvarith's incredible strength, Swampoak's eyes darted to Tervil.

"If you want to be a Slayer, kid, don't just stand there!  Do something!"

Tervil's eyes darted around, desperately searching for something, anything that would be effective against the seven-foot monstrosity.  The extra set of bolas would just make it angrier, and the shattered boards had already proven ineffective.  If only there was something that would serve as a weapon powerful enough to even stun the tuvarith, giving them a chance to fall back and figure out a strategy...

The old adage about the Triune hearing every prayer must be true, he thought.  Only five yards away, a short length of chain lay rusting where panicked miners had dropped it before they could hook it to their carts.  Hefting it in his hands, Tervil glared at the tuvarith, the pupil in his blood-red eye dilating for a split second as he began to swing the makeshift flail in a circle at his side.  The creature was still trying to overpower Swampoak with a series of powerful chops, which the Slayer valiantly blocked with quick swings from his fighting sticks, so it didn't notice as the canidean closed the distance, the chain twirling faster and faster.  With a sudden shift, Tervil adjusted the angle of his wrist and released, letting the chain swing around the tuvarith's ankles just as it began to take a step.  Digging in his heels, Tervil grasped the end of the chain still in his grip with both hands and pulled as hard as he could.

Swampoak dove out of the way as the tuvarith slammed into the ground, its low-slung head smacking into the gravel before it had a chance to catch itself with its arms.  Rivulets of saliva flowed from its maw as it gibbered in rage and pain, before it pushed itself off, only to recieve a hefty thwack from one of Swampoak's fighting sticks.

"Smart move, kid.  Be careful, these things are..."

"WOAH!  Tervil found himself dragged forward as the tuvarith managed to disentangle a leg and pull at the chain.  Though he managed to keep his face away, Tervil found it was his turn to land painfully in the gravel.  He scrambled madly for purchase, wishing the chain would unwrap itself from around the beast's ankle.

Suddenly, something rippled through his fur and down his arms, seeming to pass into the chain.  The tuvarith's next tug simply disengaged the chain, which fell slack to the ground.  Hardly able to believe this twist of fate, Tervil pulled the chain back and began to spin it over his head.  "Let me guess - these things are really strong, and smarter than they look?"

The tuvarith hissed, craning it's head back and forth.  One of it's eyes was welling with blood, and it's drool had flecks of stone stuck within it.  It's attention kept switching between the human and the canidean as the three carefully padded around in some martial dance, each trying to get a position where they would have the advantage.  The tuvarith noticed Tervil's foot slide a few hairs underneath a jagged outcropping.  Dashing towards him, the beast raised it's cleavers, howling and burbling.

Just as the xenos had predicted, Tervil caught his foot on the outcrop, and he stumbled, barely able to spread the chain taught above himself to halt a heavy blow.  The creature's hot drool was dripping onto his clothes, and Tervil tried to scramble back.  The tuvarith ended that attempt by planting a massive foot on his ankle, pinning him in place.  Raising it's cleavers as high as it could, the tuvarith growled in triumph.

THUNK!  THUNK!

The tuvarith jerked twice, then stumbled forward.  The move brought it's face uncomfortably close to Tervil's and in a moment of unexpected clarity, the young canidean was able to pick out details he had not noticed in the heat of battle.  The beast's skin was stretched tight over its bones, and the eyes stared out from deep sockets.  As blood began to flow from its mouth, he noticed that its tone was far too pale, and as it staggered to the side, he saw for the first time the exposed ribs of its chest, and the prolapsed belly just above it.  With a final groan, like a doomed man seeing the gallows for the first time, the tuvarith slumped forward and fell onto the ground, a pair of triple-edged knives embedded in its back.

---

"Lessons two and three, kid," Swampoak grunted, calmly walking forward to reclaim his weapons.  "Never turn your back on an opponent, and always carry a knife.  Two, if you can."  Pulling the knives from the tuvarith's back, he flicked the blood off of them and slipped them into the sheathes hidden in his boots.

Tervil got to his feet, then almost fell down again.  His legs were quivering like willow saplings under his weight, and he suddenly noticed the pain from his grazed foot and stomped ankle.  He looked cautiously at the tuvarith.

"It looks...sick.  Malnourished.  And I thought xenos were a hive species, living in large groups and protecting a queen-mother.  Why would a tuvarith be living alone in a cave full of stirges?"

"Stirges are group-livers, too" Swampoak said reflectively, recovering the net, still filled with angry bloodsuckers.  "They'll regurgitate blood for their young or sick.  Who knows, maybe the xenos aren't as alien as we all want to think.  It may have been able to trick the stirges into nurturing it, while it was too far away from it's nest to call for help."  Glancing at the chain lying on the ground, Swampoak cocked a single eyebrow, as though pondering some forgotten detail.  "Say, the chain was all but taut when it came of the beast's ankle, and it obviously didn't break.  Let's try something.  Pick up the chain, then make the end turn in a circle, without moving your hands."

Without moving his hands?  Tervil was baffled by this command.  He was no wizard, completely unschooled in the intricate dynamics of the thaum that formed the force that, for the sake of convenience, was called magic.  It took most of his concentration just to use a fire-lighter wand.  Bewildered, he focused his mind, envisioning the tip of the chain drawing a circle in the ground at his feet.  Once again, he felt a pulse ripple down his arms, and to his amazement, the chain twirled, drawing a quick 360 degrees.

"What...how...did I just do that?!?"

"You've got the Knack, kid," Swampoak said, smiling slightly.  "It's not wizardry, but it's enough to make you move that chain just by thinking about it.  Pack it up...Lodestone."

It took Tervil a minute to realize what Swampoak had said.  Most in the Brotherhood went by an alias, based on their favorite weapons, techniques, or their personality.

"Should I..."

"Go tell your family.  It's going to be a long ride to Nortehaus."