“Return and face us, varlet!” the man shrieked.

“Jesus Christ! Will you just let it-” this was as far as Greg got as he spun around to shout at the man and woman; as he turned, the rock under his pivoting foot rolled aside and Greg spun out of control, arms comically flailing as gravity grabbed him by the shoulders and jerked him down.

At the least, he suffered a Hell of a sprain. But then there was another rock there, an ancient, oblate ball of weathered stone larger than a man’s head that had rolled into the pass during some primeval flood. The back of Greg’s head hit the rock, hard, with a dull thwack that resounded from the green sides of the valley . Greg’s glasses bounced and landed sideways across his face, and he stared sightlessly into the afternoon sun without blinking. His legs spasmed for a few seconds and stilled at almost the same moment his bladder voided.

“Arise, I say! Arise!” shouted the woman.

“He is a base coward,” the man said, poking at Greg with his sword.