Army of Shadows

23

The darkness dissolved, to be replaced by a blinding light.

Spurral was on her back, staring up at the Sun. She turned her head to avoid its punishing glare. There were fiery floats in her eyes and she blinked to rid herself of them. She had no idea where she was. As the floats faded and her faculties returned, so did the memory: of the ship, the Krake and what had happened.

She became aware of the sound of pounding waves, and when she reached out a hand it came into contact with wet sand. Water was lapping at her feet and thighs. Her sodden clothes were steaming gently in the heat.

Slowly, painfully, she got up and tried to make sense of her surroundings.

She was on a long, golden beach. Wreckage and general debris were deposited along the shoreline, including a couple of large sections of ship's decking. She guessed that she had probably clung to one of them, although she had no recollection of it.

Behind her, the beach stretched back a long way until it met a jumble of palm trees and other vegetation. Above the trees she could see the peaks of several small mountains of greyish rock, gleaming in the sunlight. There was no sign of habitation.

She stilled. Mixed in with the crash of waves and shrieking gulls there seemed to be something else. It took her a moment to realise it was someone shouting. As she attuned herself to it she grasped that there was more than one voice.

Looking along the beach to her left, she saw nothing. It was a different story to her right. In the far distance she could see figures. There appeared to be seven or eight of them. They were humanoid in shape and looked as though they were waving.

As she watched, trying to make out who or what they might be, it became obvious they were heading her way. Spurral hesitated for a moment. Then, spurred by hope, she began to run towards them.

It felt as though it took forever to cover the expanse of beach between her and the approaching figures. As she moved, her legs growing leaden with the effort of running through the obstructive sand, she became conscious of how much she ached. The battering she had taken when the ship went down, and presumably afterwards when she was at the mercy of the tides and drifting flotsam, was starting to make itself felt. Her elbows were grazed, there was a dull pain in her back and she noticed large blue-black bruises coming up on her pumping arms. But the prospect of someone else being on an island she had thought deserted kept her going.

When she finally got close enough, she saw that the figures were dwarfs. Closer still, she recognised Kalgeck among them. Then they met and she was hugging him, relieved and frankly amazed that her friend had also survived the catastrophe. His companions, five males and two females, all young, clustered round joyfully.

"Are you injured?" Kalgeck asked, surveying her.

"I was lucky. Just a few knocks. How about all of you?"

"Fortune smiled on us, too. Our injuries are slight. It was a miracle."

"It's hard to argue with that. But… are you all there is?"

His expression turned solemn. "As far as we can tell. We've not been looking for too long, but apart from each other, and now you, we've seen no one else."

"You couldn't have looked everywhere. It could be survivors have washed up elsewhere on this island, or even other islands."

"Yes, we'll have to hope for that. But it does seem a mockery by fate if my kin should beat the Gatherers only to perish because of the Krake."

"It would," she agreed glumly. "How about the Gatherers? You've not come across any of them?"

Kalgeck shook his head. "But most of them were imprisoned belowdecks, remember."

"Yes, of course. I could almost feel sorry for them."

"It's hard for us to think that way about them. They caused us so much misery."

"I know, and I can't blame you for it. Still, it's possible some of them might have made it here. We should take care."

"What do we do now?"

"Do you know where we are? Or anything about this island?"

"No."

"All right. So let's find out if it's inhabited, and if it is, whether the natives are friendly or not. But first we ought to look through the wreckage for anything useful, like provisions."

"I already found this." He held out a water flask.

"Oh, great. Can I? I'm parched."

As she drank, Kalgeck said, "It doesn't look like there's a lot else, though." He was staring at the wreckage she had washed in with.

That proved almost right. In fact they were lucky enough to find another flask, containing coarse brandy this time, though it was only half full. A nip each raised their spirits a little. They also scavenged some chunks of timber that would serve as clubs. Nothing else was of much use. But a couple of the dwarfs had managed to hang on to weapons from the ship: a Gatherer knife and one of the wooden hatchets the captives had made clandestinely.

They set off inland. Just inside the tree line they came across bushes with a crop of yellow, spiky fruit about the size of apples. They were unfamiliar to Spurral but the other dwarfs knew them and were delighted. Once the tough skin had been peeled off, the sweet, juicy white flesh proved delicious. They ate their fill and then some.

"Right," Spurral said, licking her fingers, "let's see what else this place has to offer."

Fortified, they continued their journey.

The jungle was thick and difficult to get through. After they'd trekked for some time, with Spurral in the lead, hacking at foliage with the knife and stumbling on vines, they were beginning to wonder if it was worth going on. Then she stopped, raising a hand for the others to be quiet. There was an extensive clearing just ahead. There seemed to be nobody about, so they gingerly stepped into it.

Trees had been felled, or more accurately uprooted, and dragged to form several heaps at the glade's edge. The undergrowth was trampled flat. In the centre of the clearing was a sizeable pool.

Spurral cupped her hand and tried the water. She spat it out. "Salt. Must be fed by the sea." Looking round, she added, "Nothing here is natural except the pool. Somebody cleared this area."

Kalgeck held a finger to his lips and pointed. There was a rustling in the undergrowth. They raised their meagre weapons. More rustlings came, but from several directions. The dwarfs drew themselves into a protective circle, eyes peeled.

Some kind of creature crashed through the vegetation, then several more. They were big and black.

"Horses?" Spurral exclaimed. As soon as she said it she saw her error.

The creatures entering the clearing looked superficially like horses but with important differences. Their skin was wrong, resembling a seal's, and their luxuriant manes oozed water. They were much more muscular and robust-looking than commonplace horses. Above all, they had eyes that betrayed far greater acumen than any steed's.

Kalgeck confirmed it. "They're not ordinary horses. They're — "

"Kelpies," one of the creatures grated, trotting forward. "And we would like to welcome you to our island if we were sure you meant no harm."

"We don't," Spurral replied, recovering her poise. "Do we look like raiders?"

"No, you look like bedraggled dwarfs. And as there is no ship off our coast I assume the sea cast you here."

"Yes. We survived a wreck."

"Then you are most fortunate, given some of the perils in these waters."

"We met one of them."

"Doubly fortunate then." He surveyed the dishevelled group. "You must forgive our suspicion. We have few visitors, and those who do come are usually unbidden and mean us no good."

"You wouldn't be talking about humans, would you?"

"They can be among the worst of races, as you dwarfs must surely know."

"You mean the Gatherers."

"That's a name reviled by my kind. Even more so now, as we believe a visitation from them is due. And that always means pain and grief."

"I can set your mind at rest about that. They went down with the ship we were on."

"Truly?"

"Yes."

"And their vile captain?"

"Salloss Vant? Dead."

"You're sure?"

"I saw it."

"Spurral's being modest," Kalgeck interjected. "She's the one who killed him."

Insofar as they could read the kelpie's expression, he looked impressed. "We have been in hiding, hoping against hope that the slavers might pass us by this time. Now you bring us this glad news. Come, your injuries will be tended and you can rest. Then there will be celebrations and feasting in your honour."

"Now you're talking," Spurral told him. "We've had nothing but gruel for days. But tell me, what do we call you?"

"Before I can answer that question," the kelpie said, "I have one for you. How good are dwarves at talking underwater?"

By the time Pelli Madayar's group put out the flaming sails, the Wolverines had made their getaway. She ordered a cleanup and went to her cabin.

The nature of the magic she used to communicate with the Gateway Corps' homeworld was such that it utilised any suitable medium. Seawater was the simplest, most plentiful and by far the most effective channel. She stared into a large bowl of it. The application of certain compounds to make it more receptive, followed by a gestured conjuration, sparked the enchantment.

The water simmered and ran a gamut of colours before settling down. At which point Pelli found herself looking at an image of Karrell Revers, human head of the Corps.

"I hope you have more cheering news for me this time," he said without preamble.

"We've had our second engagement with the orcs."

"And it wasn't a success. I can tell from your expression, Pelli."

"They are a prime fighting unit."

"So are you. Or you're supposed to be." His tone had been much more prickly of late. The strain was telling on him. "Could it be that your failure to overcome the warband is due to your exercising too much restraint?"

"It's true I began by trying negotiation, but — "

"This situation requires a remedy, quickly and decisively. You should have known better than to try parleying with orcs. Force is what they understand."

"I thought we were supposed to stand for moral principles."

"There'll be no principles, moral or otherwise, if instrumentalities fall into the hands of orcs, or worse." Revers softened a little. "I'm sorry, Pelli, but the gravity of what's going on makes it vital that we draw this to a close quickly. Forgive me for saying this, but the impression I have is that things are getting beyond your control there."

"They're not," she assured him, though she didn't entirely believe that herself. "I intend to clear this matter up."

"Then you'll follow my earlier advice."

"Sir?"

"Use the special weapons."

"That could involve the loss of innocent life."

"Not if you proceed with caution when you use them. You've had no luck taming the Wolverines. This could be the only way you'll triumph over them."

"I'll give your advice serious consideration."

"Do it, Pelli."

Without further word his likeness faded and disappeared.

She sighed and got up.

Out on the deck, her second-in-command, Weevan-Jirst, was gazing at his open hand. He held a palm-sized gem of fabulous rarity. Its iridescent surface flashed a series of images.

"Traced them yet?" she asked.

"I think so," he rasped. "They have altered their course, but their destination is predictable."

"Then we'll continue the pursuit as soon as we can."

He looked up from the gem. "You look troubled. Can I ask the outcome of your communication with our leader?"

"We take the gloves off."