"He lives," said Loach at last. "For the moment."

     Brick and Sandbag stared at him. "Boss?" said Brick in confusion.

     "He's right He's too valuable to us alive, for the time being." He stared down at the former businessman, who was too fatigued and exhausted to look relieved. "There must still be punishment, though. Will you please explain that to him, gentlemen?"

     The two henchmen grinned and, taking Randall by the shoulders, they pulled him away from the mob boss into an area of open ground. Then Brick punched him in the stomach as hard as he could. A deliberate attempt to damage delicate organs and rupture blood vessels. Randall was thrown back, doubled over, his breath expelled from his lungs in a great OOOOFF! Then he fell to his hands and knees and threw up, spitting out spatters of bile to stain the muddy, fallen leaves that covered the ground. He tried to breathe, but the blow had emptied his lungs far more than they ever should be emptied and he had to make a deliberate attempt to suck the air in while his ears were filled with the pounding of his heart. A sickening ache began to settle in the pit of his stomach.

     More blows followed, the two men taking turns to hammer his face, his stomach and his kidneys with their great, meaty fists while the two women watched with horror. Loach smiled with pleasure. "I would dearly love to be doing that to you myself," he said as the two thugs paused to catch their breath. "However, my battle with the Chieftain has left me a little frail, for the time being. Never mind, watching is almost as good as doing. Please continue, gentlemen.

      The henchmen nodded and resumed their battery of Randall, for whom the universe had shrunk to a tiny bubble of misery and pain. "Stop it!" cried Jane, running forward and trying to pull at Sandbag's thick-muscled forearm with her tiny hands. He shrugged her off and she staggered back with a cry. She turned to stare at Loach, begging with her eyes. "They're killing him!"

     "Hmm," said the mob boss thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right. We don't want him crippled or we'll have to carry him the rest of the way." The two henchmen looked up at him and paused in their work, blood on their fists and splattered across their clothes and faces. Loach gave a small hand gesture and they stepped away from their victim, who collapsed into the mud, moaning and sobbing as he pulled himself into a fetal position.

     "Get him on his feet," said Loach, and the two men took him by an arm each, pulling him upright. Randall tried to raise his bloodied head, tried to look at the mob boss through eyes that were already beginning to swell closed.

     "Consider that a down payment," said Loach. "We will discuss the wisdom of betraying me at length on some future occasion, I assure you. In the meantime, though, I think it's time for us to go meet your friends." He turned to Brick. "I want you to keep a knife pressed to his back at all times. If you think he's about to betray us again, or if you just feel like it, kill him. Also kill him if he fails to obey any order I give him."

     "You got it, Boss." The henchman pulled a wicked looking knife from his belt and pressed it against Randall's right kidney. The former businessman winced as he felt it pierce his clothing and jab into his flesh. He knew there'd be a cut in his skin there when he examined it later. If there was a later for him.

     Loach then began walking through the trees towards the sounds of industrial activity coming from the other side. The others followed, and as they went, Sandbag went to walk beside the mob boss. "Are we going to get the gold now?" he asked hopefully.

     Randall gave a bitter laugh through teeth that now felt loose in their sockets. "There is no gold, you idiot," he said. "We just made up the gold to get the noblemen to help us. We needed the manpower." He felt the knife jabbing deeper into his side as Brick tensed up angrily.

     "No gold?" said Sandbag in confusion.

     "There's something better than gold," said Loach, making more of an effort to walk with his back straight. He didn't dare look weak in front of his men. "Power. Power such as even Kings can only dream of. Elmhardy Farm was the first step to securing that power. Now we take the next."

     "Power for him, not for you," said Randall, then winced again as Brick gave him another jab with the knife. "You'll just go on being thugs for hire while he sets himself up in a palace. If you're lucky he might give you a bonus for being with him today. Enough to buy yourselves a few pints of rotgut in a tavern, perhaps."

     "My men are not stupid," said Loach, sounding amused rather than angry. "They know what you're trying to do. Do you think they're going to kill me so they can take the power for themselves?"

     "Isn't that how you took over from Machine and Badger?"

     "Thank you for reminding them of my martial prowess. Yes, I killed Machine and his two best men. I killed an orc Chieftain..."

     "By making him fall down an elevator shaft," said Emily with a sly smile.

     "Which proves that I can use guile and trickery as well as fighting skill superior to that of any mundane human."

     "But look at you now," said the eco-terrorist. "You're almost finished. I reckon even I could take you down now."

     "Think again. My body aches with last night's exertions, it's true, but if I were to activate my combat app again it would keep me from feeling the pain and would drive me to my maximum fighting ability no matter what the cost to my body afterwards."

     "Unless something snaps inside you as you move to strike the killing blow."

     Randall stared at her. What was she up to? Was she trying to undermine Loach because he was too powerful here, in this present situation? Perhaps she was afraid that he would seize all the power to himself leaving her out in the cold, unable to protect her precious planet and its wildlife. Randall's mind raced. How could he strengthen her as an ally?

     "Perhaps you would like to try me," said Loach, eyeing the woman dangerously. "See if something snaps."

     Could the others see the fear that had momentarily flashed across his face? Randall wondered. The mob boss really didn't want to have to use his combat app again. Not until he'd had several days to rest and recover, anyway. More like several weeks if he was being honest. If he had to order his men to defend him against a woman, though, that might deal a fatal blow to his reputation as an invincible killing machine. His henchmen might not be able to resist the temptation to strike him down and claim the glory of being the men who'd killed him. That was the world in which they lived, after all. You advanced by killing those above you and filling their shoes. You survived in a position of power by intimidating underlings with demonstrations of brutality and mercilessness so that they would never dare to challenge you. And if you thought that one of your underlings was thinking of challenging you, you struck him down first. In his current state of weakness, therefore, Loach was in great peril and he knew it. And so did everyone else.

     Randall felt the knife being withdrawn from his back. He turned his head to see Sandbag glancing back at Brick. There was the expression on his face worn by those communicating wordlessly, trying to guess another's intentions. Although Randall couldn't see it, he knew there would be an identical expression on Brick's face as the two men measured each other and their employer. Randall felt his heart pounding again, but from anticipation this time rather than fear. Were they going to do it? Were they going to make a move against Loach?

     He imagined that he could almost hear the thoughts going through the heads of the two henchmen. Together, in Loach's present condition, either of them would be able to take him down, but Loach knew that. Loach might be thinking that he would be a lot safer if he only had one henchman to keep an eye on. Brick was loyal to Loach with an almost fanatical devotion, so Sandbag was the spare. Randall saw Sandbag's eyes narrow as he imagined his employer suddenly turning on him with the blinding speed and deadly accuracy that the combat app gave him. Randall knew that Loach would never do such a thing, of course. If he killed one of his employees, not even the religion fuelled loyalty of Brick would survive. It would be a suicidal thing for him to do, but these were simple brutes who lacked the intelligence or the imagination for that kind of calculation. All Sandbag was capable of imagining was that Loach might fear the two of them ganging up on him, that his life depended on him killing Loach before Loach killed him.

     Randall waited with breathless anticipation to see what Loach would do. Maybe he would do nothing and count on Sandbag not having the courage to move against him. Instead, the mob boss turned in mid step and beckoned for Sandbag to come closer. The henchman did so with visible apprehension, his whole body tense and ready for violence. Loach, in contrast, looked calm and relaxed as if there was nothing within a hundred miles that could threaten him.

     "What's your name?" he asked.

     "They call me Sandbag," the man replied.

     "What's your real name?"

     "Harold Albertson, Boss."

     "You fought well against the orcs, Harold. Very well. That's good, I need good fighters around me. My battle with the Chieftain has left me weak, as you can see. If anyone else attacks us, more orcs, soldiers, I won't be able to defend myself to the extent that I would normally be able to. Brick, I'm sorry," he said glancing back at the other henchman. "I don't know your real name either."

     "Eric Windell, Boss,"

     Loach nodded at him. "Eric." He turned back to Sandbag. "Mister Windell has his hands full looking after our treacherous friend. That means that I'll be counting on you to defend me."

     "Defend you, Boss?"

     Loach nodded. "My life will be entirely in your hands. Do you think you're up to the responsibility?"

     There was a look in the man's eyes as he replied. Relief, gratitude, almost hero worship. "You can count on me, Boss."

     And he would be able to, Randall saw, both amazed and horrified by Loach's management of his man. The mob boss had cemented the unquestioning loyalty of both men with a few words and a gesture of trust. As he walked on, his unprotected back was turned to Sandbag. The underling could have stabbed him in the back before his boss could even register that he'd drawn his weapon, but the very fact that he could do so meant that he never would do it. Randall saw dismay on Emily's face as well as she saw the failure of her attempt to drive a wedge between the three gangsters, while Jane was wearing a smile of amusement. The holy warrior of God observing the machinations of evil-doers whose evil schemes would come to nothing in due course no matter how clever they thought they were being.

     Loach glanced across at Emily and gave her a smile of triumph while being careful not to let his men see it. Emily gave a small nod in return, acknowledging his victory, but then they were reaching the edge of the trees and all six of them stared in wonder at the sight that was waiting for them in the field beyond.