Orcs: Bad Blood (16 page)

The human smiled tightly.

“Where’d you pick up the skill?” she persisted.

He gave a cursory shrug. “Here and there.”

“You’re talking me to death again.”

This time his fleeting smile had a speck of warmth in it. “It’s a long story.”

“I want to hear it.”

“
Pepperdyne!
” Standeven was elbowing their way.

Pepperdyne’s expression went back to pokerfaced.

“Your place is with me,” the older man asserted.

“I know.”

To Coilla, Pepperdyne’s manner seemed almost subservient. “What is it with you two?” she asked.

“
Coilla!
” Stryke beckoned her over.

She gave the pair of humans a last, hard look and left them to it.

Stryke was with Jup and Spurral, and they were obviously troubled.

“What’s up?” Coilla said.

“Our people have paid a high price for this,” Spurral replied, indicating the detritus of battle.

“But they did well. Specially as you’ve so few veterans.”

“We’ve even less now,” Jup came back gloomily.

“There are casualties in a fight,” Stryke told him. “You know that.”

“The Wolverines haven’t come out of this nearly so badly.”

“We’re born to combat, and we’ve got the skills. If we’d had losses we’d accept ’em.”

“Most dwarfs don’t have the orcs’ attitude to these things.”

“So I see,” Coilla said, nodding.

They followed her gaze to a group of villagers standing in the clearing. They were looking the Wolverines’ way and whispering
amongst themselves. Others were drifting over to swell their ranks.

“This could get nasty,” Stryke judged. “Jup, what do you think?”

“They’re angry. It’d be as well to tread lightly ’til this blows over.”

“Coilla?”

“I’m thinking of that old saying. You know, the one that goes, Trust in the gods, but tie up your horse.”

Stryke eyed the growing crowd. “I’ll go along with that. We’ll do nothing to goad them. But we stay alert.” He turned to Dallog.
“Get Wheam on his feet.”

“I’m not sure if he’s —”

“He’ll live. Just do it.”

Dallog shrugged and beckoned a couple of grunts. “Give me a hand here,” he instructed. “Hold him.
Tight
.”

He bent to his patient. Wheam began whimpering. Dallog swiftly plucked out the arrow, drawing a yell from the newbie. Then
the corporal produced a flask of raw alcohol and sprinkled it liberally over the wound. Wheam howled. Dressing hastily applied,
the grunts tersely hauled him to his feet, raising more yelps. Wheam was ashen. His grimace made him look like he’d sucked
a bushel of lemons.

Giving off a disgruntled mutter, the throng of dwarfs had started to move towards the orcs. A number of them nursed wounds
or hobbled. Many had their weapons drawn.

“To me!” Stryke ordered.

His band fell in beside him.

Out in front of the mob was a familiar face; the dwarf who harangued them in the glade when they first arrived in Quatt.

He marched up to the Wolverines, chest puffed, and holding aloft a short spear.

“Have you any idea what mayhem you’ve caused here?” he shouted.

“That was down to the Unis,” Stryke replied evenly.

“And look how many of our people paid for it!”

“The orcs fought at our side, Krake,” Jup reminded him. “We wouldn’t have won otherwise.”

“We wouldn’t have had to fight at all if it weren’t for them!”

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd.

“That’s not fair,” Jup returned. “We should count ourselves lucky they stood with us.”

“Trust you to take their part. All you’ve done is bring us trouble.”

“Seems to me,” Stryke said, “it was time you stood up to those humans.”

“You think we
haven’t
?” Krake was red faced. “What we don’t do is go round provoking ’em!”

Again the mob backed him.

“You can’t blame the orcs for that,” Jup reckoned. “You know how crazy those Unis are. If it hadn’t been the Wolverines it
would have been something else.”

“Backing outsiders again,” the ringleader spat. “You’re too fond of these…
freaks
.”

“Who you calling a freak?” Haskeer demanded indignantly.

Krake glared at him. “If the cap fits.”

“I wouldn’t push it with our sergeant,” Coilla advised.

“Let’s just be calm,” Jup appealed.

“Traitor!” Krake seethed.

“Don’t you call my Jup a traitor,” Spurral waded in.

“Wotcha mean
freak
?” Haskeer repeated.

“It’s what I’m looking at,” Krake told him. He waved his spear in Haskeer’s face.

The crowd was cheering him on.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Coilla warned.

“I don’t take advice from grotesques,” Krake informed her, “least of all a female.” He laughed derisively. Most of the crowd
joined in.

Haskeer snatched his spear, upended it deftly and plunged it into the dwarf’s foot.

There was a crimson geyser. Krake shrieked. He hobbled a couple of steps before falling into the arms of his fellows. The
crowd let out a collective gasp.

“Oh, great,” Jup groaned.

The enraged mob surged forward, weapons raised, and the orcs primed themselves to meet them.

“I don’t want you fighting our people, Stryke!” Spurral pleaded.

“No, we don’t need this,” Jup added, one eye on his advancing countrymen.

“Pull back, Wolverines!” Stryke barked. “
All
of you!”

The band withdrew. Soon they were clustering in front of a large wooden hut.

“In here!” Stryke bellowed, kicking open the door.

Everyone piled through. Furniture was dragged over to barricade the entrance, and the lone window was blocked. Outside, the
roar of the mob grew louder.

Coilla glowered at Haskeer. “So much for not goading them!”

“The little shit asked for it. He was lucky I didn’ t — What are
they
doing here?” He thrust a finger at Pepperdyne and Standeven.

“They warned us, remember?”

“So what?”

“So there’s not much we can do about it now, is there?”

“I could,” Haskeer replied menacingly.

Stryke stepped between them. “You going to disobey another order?”

“I don’t remember one about them.”

“There is now:
leave it
. I’m no happier with humans around than you are, but we’ve more pressing worries.”

A grunt jogged from the back of the building. “That’s the only door, chief. No other way out.”

Stryke looked up to the distant rafters. “We couldn’t reach the roof either.”

As soon as he said it, they heard the sound of movement overhead.

“But they can,” Coilla said.

There was a battering at the door. It shook in its hinges. Several grunts rushed forward and threw their weight against the
barricade.

“Can’t fight, can’t run,” Haskeer grumbled. “What do we do, Stryke?”

“We’ll try smashing our way through that back wall and —”

“Can you smell something?” Spurral exclaimed.

The hammering had stopped.

“Shit.”
Coilla pointed towards the door. Thick black smoke was seeping through the cracks. “They’ve torched the place.”

Smoke was coming in through some of the wall planks too, and it began to billow up above, over the rafters.

“They want us so badly they’d burn one of their own buildings?” Stryke said.

“They’re pretty pissed off,” Jup confirmed.

“
Now
what?” Haskeer wanted to know.

Stryke held out a hand. “Coilla, the star. You’ve got it?”

“Course. I check the damn thing every ten breaths.” She dug it out and passed it to him.

He moved to a crude table and placed the instrumentality on it. Then he added the others from his belt pouch. He consulted
the amulet about his neck then, brow taut with concentration, began slotting the stars together.

The smoke grew denser. Coughing broke out and eyes were stinging. Dallog was ripping up portions of cloth, dunking them in
a water butt he’d found and passing them out to the grunts to cover their mouths with.

The ceiling was on fire. Sparks drifted and embers fell. The stink was acrid.

Still Stryke fiddled with the stars.

Everyone had gathered round him now, watching intently. Only Pepperdyne and Standeven, silent and forgotten, stood further
back.

Stryke had just the final piece to fit in.

“I don’t like this bit,” Wheam snivelled.

“Oh,
shut up
,” Haskeer chided.

Stryke began easing the last star into place.

“
Hold tight, everybody!
” Coilla yelled.

Pepperdyne grabbed Standeven’s wrist, dragging him closer to the scrum.

There was an implosion of non-light.

And the bottom fell out of the world.

Only tender sounds disturbed the calm. A tinkling brook flowed down a mild rocky incline to join a lazy river. The distant
baas of sheep mingled with the soothing drone of honeybees.

Green fields and softly undulating meadows extended from the banks of the river. Trees in full blossom dotted the landscape.
Gentle hillocks marked the horizon, crowned with leafy copses. High above, languid birds flapped across a perfectly blue sky.

The day was still and warm. All was bucolic tranquillity.

There was a subtle change in the quality of the air. At a point just above the ground it wavered, like heat over stone on
a summer afternoon. Soon, a spot of dull milky radiance appeared, and grew. It became a vortex, spinning frantically, and
coloured pinpoints swirled in the mix. The whirlpool birthed a breeze, which swiftly built to a wind. Then a gale. Grass bowed
under its force, and plants and trees.

It climaxed in a blinding white flash that rivalled the noontime sun.

The gaping maw of the churning radiance spewed out its load. A mass of shapes tumbled on to the sward.

Instantly, the wind vanished and the vortex snapped out of existence.

A sulphurous odour hung in the air.

Thirty and more figures were strewn along the riverbank. For some minutes none of them moved. Slowly, they began to rouse.
A few groaned. Several vomited.

Stryke and Coilla were among the first to get to their feet.

“Gods, it’s no easier the second time, is it?” Coilla said, shaking her muzzy head. She took in the scene. “You brought us
home? To Ceragan?”

“No. Though it looks a lot like it. I set the stars for the place Serapheim told us about.”

“This is supposed to be a land oppressed, is it? And there are orcs here?”

He scanned the landscape. “Somewhere.”

“If we’ve wound up where we’re supposed to.”

“That we’ll find out.” Stryke realised he was still clutching the assemblage of stars. He plucked one free and offered it
to her. It was green, with five spikes. “Are you still willing to —?”

“Sure.” She took it. “It’s not the same one. The one I had was blue and it only had four —”

“Does it matter?” He was pulling the others apart and putting them in his pouch.

“No, course not. I’m being stupid. Still dazed from getting here. Wherever
here
is.”

Jup and Spurral joined them. They were pale, and looked mildly shocked.

“That’s a hell of a way to travel,” Jup said.

“Where
are
we?” Spurral asked.

“Don’t know,” Stryke told her. “But it’s where our mission is.”

Haskeer had been haranguing the band. Now he strode over.

“Everybody all right?” Stryke wanted to know.

“More or less. No thanks to his lot.” He glowered at Jup.

“My people were out of order,” Jup conceded. “But they felt they had cause.”

“
Cause?
That’s one word for it.”

“What are you saying?”

“You dwarfs know which way the wind blows.”

“Meaning?”

“What happened back there, turning on us, you’re well known for that.”

“Oh, that old song again.”

“And it’s got a name.” Haskeer leaned and put his face close to Jup’s.
“Treachery.”

Jup made an effort to keep his temper in check. “Some of my folk…
some
… escaped the poverty we’ve been pushed into by working as soldiers of fortune. You could say I did myself, when I joined
Jennesta’s horde. The same army you served in.”

“You had a choice. We didn’t.
Pisspot
.” He drove his forefinger hard into the dwarf’s chest.

“You want to settle this?” Jup flared, balling his fists.

“Jup, please!” Spurral begged. “This is no time to —”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Haskeer growled. He raised his own ham-like knuckles.

Stryke barged in and flung them apart. “
Cut it out!
” he roared. “We’re a disciplined band, not a rabble!”

“He started it,” Jup mumbled.

“That’s
enough
! I won’t have disorder, and I’ll back that with a whipping if I have to!”

Unable to meet his gaze, Haskeer and Jup resumed glaring at each other.

“Just like old times, eh?” Coilla observed, breaking the impasse. “Your memory’s short, Haskeer. When did Jup ever let us
down? And Spurral fought righteously today.”

“Well, that’s fine, ain’t it?” Haskeer replied with a hint of mockery. “And now you’ve got another female to play with.”

“Yeah, we can press flowers together.”

Spurral stifled a grin.

“Waifs and strays,” Haskeer muttered disgustedly. “Bloody circus.”

“
Haskeer
,” Stryke intoned menacingly.

“All right, all right. But what about them?” He pointed along the riverbank, to Pepperdyne and Standeven. “If they’re not
deadweight then I don’t know —”

“The younger one helped me out of a tight fix,” Coilla reminded him.

“Ask yourself why,” Haskeer came back. “What’re they after?”

“You’re right,” Stryke agreed. “For once. I want some answers from those two before we move on.”

“About time.” Haskeer started to move.

“Not you, Sergeant. You posted guards? Sent out scouts? No. Do it.
Now
.”

Haskeer departed, grumbling.