"The invisible men," commented Thor dryly, getting to his feet. "They
come and they go, and you can't see them do either."
Slag lifted his club, rumbling in his throat.
The men walked toward them slowly. They called out words. Fanning into
an arc, they came on. Now their hands fell to their sides and they
lifted long swords that dangled from the leather harness around their
middles.
Karola pulled her long legs up under the remnants of the gauze
trousers. Thor lifted her beside him with a hand. Side by side they
stood, awaiting the men.
"They have swords and we only have your club, Slag," said Thor. "We
want to work this together. Take the man at the left. I'll tackle him,
going for his sword, while you clout him. In that way, we'll each have
a weapon."
"And me?" asked Karola. "I can handle a blade. Priestesses of Klogor
are taught to defend themselves."
"We'll see. They're coming head-on for us. Careful, Slag. Go for your
man when I say the word."
His muscles tightened in his legs. This was like a football game, in a
way. The man with the sword was a ball carrier. Thor wanted that sword
more than he had ever wanted a football. He shifted his feet, balancing
himself.
"_Now!_"
They went off the rock together, dwarf and man.
Slag brought his club around in a vicious arc. Thor slid under it,
going for the arm. His fingers tightened on a wrist even as the club
crunched home. The sword came free. He grabbed at it. With his hip he
hit the man and drove him sideways into his companions.
Thor landed on his knees, the hilt of the blade in his right fist. He
looked around him, hearing Slag yell with superstitious fright.