Inferno

11

The elves’ dealings with the outside world didn’t end with the orcs’ departure. The day after the Wolverines left, the Gateway Corps ship arrived.

Wary given recent events, the elves flung up their magical barriers. The strange, multi-species group of visitors dismissed these obstacles with almost casual contempt. There was alarm when the goblin Weevan-Jirst appeared; and bemusement at the sight of the elf, Pelli Madayar. Her presence, and her oath that they came in peace, gained a measure of the elves’ trust. For their part, they told the strangers what had happened with the goblins, while casting edgy glances Weevan-Jirst’s way; and they were honest about the Wolverines having been there. But they stayed loyal to the warband and refused to say where they were headed.

Pelli didn’t linger. She took ship immediately and ordered their former course resumed.

Weevan-Jirst was displeased, and showed his irritation when they stood together at the helm.

“We should have made them tell us.”

“What are we,” she retorted, “marauders? Anyway, we don’t need a steer from them; we have our sorcery to help us follow the orcs.”

“So why did we waste time stopping there?”

“To gather intelligence.”

“We gained precious little in that respect.”

“I disagree. We confirmed that we were on the right trail, and learned about the Wolverines’ tangle with…” She shot him a glance. “… members of your race.”

If her aide found the reference objectionable in any way he didn’t show it. “You could have pushed them harder. We might have learnt more.”

“Did you see the graves back there? And the number of them? It wasn’t the right time for an interrogation.”

“It was exactly the right time, while they were weakened by grief.”

“I thought otherwise.”

“Because they’re elves? Your own kind?”

“No. I give no more weight to my own race than any other,” she replied steadfastly. “Any more than I would hold you to account for the wrongdoings of some goblins.”

He made a kind of low clucking with his bony jaw, the goblin equivalent of tutting or an exasperated sigh. “The fact remains,” he hissed, “that we are conducting ourselves with less than single-minded purpose.”

“I think you mean ruthlessness. As I said, I don’t see that as an honourable way for the Corps to behave, and I wouldn’t want to be part of it if it did.”

“Then perhaps you should consider your position as commander of this mission.”

“The one best placed to determine that is our leader.”

“Unless I, as second-in-command, judge you incompetent.”

“You’ve already made that point. I prefer Karrell Revers’ counsel.”

“As you please.”

“And I’m overdue reporting to him. So if you’ll excuse me…” Without waiting for an answer she turned on her heel and walked away.

When Pelli got to her cabin she locked the door, something she didn’t normally bother with. Then she took out the crystal she commonly used to contact Karrell Revers. In moments, following the appropriate incantations, it was glowing in the palm of her hand.

The image of a mature human’s face appeared on the crystal’s surface. He spoke without preamble. “ It’s been too long since your last report. What’s happening?”

“Events move apace here. Reporting hasn’t been my first priority.” She wasn’t in the mood to apologise.

Revers looked as though he was going to rebuke her for that. He contented himself with, “ So tell me now.”

“We’re in hot pursuit of the Wolverines. And I’m sure the sorceress can’t be far away.”

“Have you actually engaged with either yet?”

“Not since our confrontation on the dwarfs’ isle.”

“Which you could have won if you’d used the full potential of your weaponry.”

“I didn’t feel it was appropriate. There were innocents present.”

“And orcs.”

“Yes, but-”

“And perhaps your sympathies for them could have stayed your hand?”

“No. I mean, you know I’m in favour of giving them the benefit of the doubt. My belief is that they’re being manipulated. But that doesn’t in any way compromise my-”

“We seem to have this conversation endlessly. Your one and only aim should be to retrieve the instrumentalities, both the original and duplicate sets. Any other consideration is secondary. Compassion for orcs certainly is.”

The crystal’s magic was such that his words were audible both in her mind and, less loudly, in the cabin. It was something she always found a little disconcerting. “I can get the instrumentalities back,” she replied, “and if things are handled properly, without too much blood being spilt. Surely that’s a better outcome for the Corps?”

“The only outcome that counts is gaining the artefacts. I think you’re close to failing in that.”

“So why did you give me this job in the first place?”

“Because I believed you were capable of it, or at least that you’d grow into it.”

“My chances would be greater if my leadership wasn’t being undermined.”

“What do you mean?”

“Weevan-Jirst. Did you order him to scrutinise my actions? And to relieve me of my command if he saw fit?”

“Pelli, you must understand that-”

“Did you?”

“There has to be a contingency plan for every mission. You are unproven. I needed to know our objective would be achieved, whatever the cost.”

“So you instructed my second-in-command to spy on me.”

“To keep a watchful eye on you. Just that.”

“And to take over this mission if he didn’t like what he saw.”

“The Corps and our calling are bigger than any individual, Pelli. I make no apology for trying to ensure the success of this venture.”

“I gave my loyalty to you, and to the Corps. Is this how you repay me?”

“There would be no threat to your command if you acted decisively.”

“By which you mean taking no heed of casualties among the blameless.”

“Civilian losses are regrettable, but they’re trivial in light of the havoc the instrumentalities can cause in the wrong hands.”

“I can’t regard the death of innocents as unimportant. That’s not what I thought the Corps was about.”

“If you don’t know our sole purpose by now perhaps there is a basis for questioning your judgement.”

“It seems you’re determined to believe that.”

“No, I think I’ve given you more than enough chances to prove yourself. But we’ve got to the stage where there’s nothing more to say. I want to talk with Weevan-Jirst.”

Seeing no point in arguing further, Pelli simply replied, “All right.”

She left the cabin, slipping the crystal into her pocket. But she didn’t seek out her second-in-command. Instead she made for a quiet part of the ship and went to the rail.

She took out the crystal, holding it in her clenched fist and not looking at it. It was true there were other ways of communicating with Karrell Revers, but they involved invocations only she knew, and there was no way she was going to divulge them. The crystal was the simplest, most direct channel.

There was a moment of hesitation then, a realisation of the gravity of what she was about to do.

She looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then she dropped the crystal overboard.

The band was worried about Stryke.

He was in a frame of mind that mixed despair with flashes of belligerence. They left him to brood in the ruins of the deserted village.

At Coilla’s instigation several scouting parties were sent out to comb the island. No one thought anything would come of it, but it was better than doing nothing. As it was comparatively small, the island didn’t take long to search, and the scouts were soon back. They had nothing significant to report.

Calthmon had led one of the parties to explore the opposite side of the island. He had an observation. “There are other islands, just off this one. Three or four of ’em.”

Pepperdyne had the map, loaned to him without protest by Stryke. He consulted it. “Yes, we knew that. They’re here on the chart. A way off, according to this.”

Calthmon shook his head. “Nah. You could hit the nearest with an arrow. Water between’s shallow, too. I reckon we could walk it.”

“I was worried that this map might not be very accurate. What’s over there? Could you see?”

“Nothing. They’re just rocky. Barren.”

“Doesn’t help us much, does it?” Jup said.

“So what do we do?” Haskeer asked. “We can’t just sit on our arses waiting for Stryke to pull himself together.”

“Damned if I know.”

“Couldn’t we go back to the elves’ island?” Spurral suggested.

“Can’t see that they’d be much help,” Coilla told her. “Any other ideas? Anybody?”

“I suppose we could sail these waters in the hope of picking up a clue about where Jennesta’s gone,” Pepperdyne said. “Though I’m pretty sure that’d be fruitless.”

“Great,” Coilla sighed. “Anybody else? No? All right. I think all we can do is hone our blades, check our kit and wait for Stryke to snap out of it. He’ll know what to do.”

“Will he?” Haskeer said.

She ignored that. “Anybody comes up with a better plan, sing it out.”

“If we’re waiting, I’m doing it on the beach,” Spurral decided. “There’s more cheer there than in this place.”

Coilla looked at the ruined settlement. “I’m with you on that.”

“What about Stryke?” Jup said.

“He’ll be fine.”

Spurral headed off, and the rest of the band drifted along behind her. If Stryke noticed, he gave no sign.

On the beach most of the band settled down together. They proceeded to overhaul their weaponry, and to discuss the situation in low tones. There was a general air of despondency.

Coilla and Pepperdyne sat apart from the others. Coilla spent the time cleaning the throwing knives she had retrieved after battling the goblins.

“What do you reckon?” Pepperdyne said. “Can you see a way out of this?”

“Offhand, no.”

“What about Stryke?”

“What about him?”

“ Is he going to snap out of it?”

“Course he is. I’ve seen him like this before, though not as bad. He just needs some time.”

“And what you said about him knowing what to do. Will he?”

“No idea. But if anybody can come up with something, it’s Stryke.”

“So we wait.”

Coilla shrugged. “What else can we do?” She glanced at the rest of the band. Like her and Pepperdyne, two others had chosen to sit to one side. “I want to talk to somebody, Jode. Hang on here.”

He nodded. She stood and moved off.

Almost as soon as she left, Standeven arrived.

“What is it?” Pepperdyne snapped tetchily.

Standeven affected a hurt look. “Do I have to have a reason for talking to my long-serving helper?”

“There’s a motive behind everything you do. And helper isn’t exactly the word I’d choose to describe our connection.”

“Words, words, words.” Standeven waved a dismissive hand. “We put too much weight on them.”

“Words like slave, you mean? That one’s light as a feather. Except to anybody it’s applied to.”

“ Connection. That’s the only word you’ve used that’s of any importance.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Standeven?”

“Whatever you want to call it, we do have a bond. We’ve been through a lot together, and we’ve always overcome anything and anybody who stood in our way.”

“ I have, you mean.”

“Now we’re in another fix.”

“That’s a statement of the damned obvious. What’s your point?”

“The instrumentalities.”

“Oh, for the gods’ sake! Not that again. Don’t you ever-”

“Hear me out. You think I want to get my hands on them.”

“I wonder what gave me that idea.”

“But all I really want is to get back to our world.”

“You haven’t exactly hidden that ambition.”

“Be serious,” he returned sternly. “I’ve got a plan.”

“And you’re going to tell me about it.” Pepperdyne’s tone was one of resignation.

Standeven leaned into him, too close for Pepperdyne’s liking, and monopolised his ear. “Stryke won’t be parted from the instrumentalities, quite rightly, so he has to be persuaded to use them to take me back. And you too, of course,” he added as an afterthought.

“Persuaded.”

“Yes.”

“By you.”

“Well, given the way he thinks about me, it’d be better coming from you.”

“Me. And what am I supposed to say to him?”

“It’s simple. All he’s got to do is take me… take us home, then return here. We’re out of his hair, he’s still got the instrumentalities.”

“He’s going to do this in the middle of searching for his mate, while his band are going down like flies and a weird bunch of sorcerers are stalking us. Not to mention a revenge-crazed goblin with an awesome bow.”

“It’s not asking that much, seeing all we’ve been through with this gang of freaks.”

“This is insane. As I told you before, there’s no way Stryke would agree to a harebrained idea like that. Get that through your thick head. And even if he did agree, by some miracle, you’re forgetting something: there’s no guarantee you’d get home. The instrumentalities aren’t working properly.”

“So he says.”

“What?”

“We’ve only got his word for it. How do we know he isn’t lying?”

“Why the hell would Stryke do that?”

“Who knows how these creatures’ minds work?”

“Yours is more of a mystery. Look, if you want to try getting Stryke to take you back, go ahead and ask him. I think I can guess his answer. But don’t involve me in your ridiculous schemes.”

“What about you? Surely you want to get back to our own world.”

“No. At least, not now.”

Standeven adopted a knowing expression. “Oh, right. The female.” He gave a grotesque, leering wink. “Prefer to go native with her for a while first, do you? Wouldn’t appeal to me, I must say, but each to his own, and-”

“Say another word,” Pepperdyne informed him coldly, “and I’ll break your nose.”

One look at his face convinced Standeven that lingering there wasn’t a smart idea. Muttering under his breath, he shambled away.

Further along the beach, Coilla approached Dallog and Pirrak. They sat together a little way from the others, engrossed in conversation, but stopped when they saw her.

Dallog nodded in greeting. “Coilla.”

“All well?”

“Far as it can be, given where we are.”

“How about you, Pirrak?”

“Me, Corporal? I’m… fine.”

“You did well in the battle with the goblins. All you new recruits did.”

“Er… thanks.”

She turned to Dallog. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” He looked to Pirrak, who got up and left.

“He seems a little jumpy,” Coilla said, watching the tyro walk away.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“No need to look so serious. I only wanted to ask about Wheam.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing. It’s just that he feels you’ve been a bit… distant from him lately.”

“Did he ask you to bring this up with me?”

“No. He doesn’t know I’m talking to you about it. And I think we should keep it that way.”

“Well, it’s true. Though I wouldn’t call it distant.”

“What would you call it?”

“I’m trying to help him grow, Coilla. You know his story.” He counted off on his calloused fingers. “He’s got a powerful sire who’s always on his back. His belief in himself’s low. He’s got no inborn talent for fighting, despite his orc nature. He’s wet behind the ears and-”

“He’s getting better.”

“Granted. He’s come on a lot since this mission started. But he won’t rise much further as long as he’s leaning on somebody. I reckoned the time was right to cut him loose.”

“So it’s about getting him to stand on his own feet.”

“And he won’t do that as long as the props are there.”

Coilla nodded reflectively. “I can see that. One other thing. It seems to bother him that you’re spending so much time with Pirrak.”

“He’s bound to resent being replaced by one of the other tyros, as he looks at it.”

“Why are you so interested in Pirrak?”

“Unlike Wheam, he still needs his props.”

“Why?”

“In his way, he’s as uncertain of himself as Wheam. Only he’s better at hiding it. Mostly. You said yourself he was jumpy.”

“So you don’t believe in the tough approach in every case.”

“They’re different orcs. Wheam’s had his nurturing. Pirrak’s isn’t over just yet.”

“Can we rely on him? In a fight, I mean.”

“As surely as any other in the band. He’s already proving himself. Like Wheam.”

She weighed his words. “All right. I’m obliged, Dallog.”

“You’re welcome, Corporal.”

Coilla left thinking he was a wise judge of character. She was impressed.

Heading back towards Pepperdyne, she saw Standeven shuffling away from him. Halfway there, Spurral joined her.

“Know what I’m thinking?” she said.

“Nope,” Coilla replied. “Mind-reading’s not one of my talents.”

“I’m thinking how much Stryke’s search for Thirzarr mirrors what happened to me and Jup.”

“When the Gatherers took you, you mean. S’pose it does. It was a hard time for you both.”

“Yes, but that ended happily.”

“You think this won’t?”

“I don’t know. I hope it will, of course. But the difference between my situation and Thirzarr’s was that you had some idea of where I was being taken.”

“Yeah, it’s tough knowing what to do next.”

“Coilla, do you ever wonder…”

“What?”

“Do you ever wonder what you’d do if the same thing happened to you and Jode? If you were parted and-”

“It hadn’t occurred to me. Go a bit nuts, I expect.”

“You feel that strongly about him, then.”

“That’s a sneaky way of getting me to open up about it, Spurral.”

“Sorry.”

Coilla grinned. “I don’t mind.”

“Does anybody else?”

“What do you mean?”

“You must know there are some in the band who frown on what you’re doing.”

“You one of them?”

“Me? Come on, Coilla, you know me better than that, I hope.”

“Well, I don’t give a damn what any of the others think.”

“Nor should you. And Jode feels the same way?”

“I guess so. Why do you ask?”

“To give you a little support, if you need it, and to say I know how Jode might feel as an outsider. Like me, a dwarf in an orc warband.”

“Do we make you feel like an outsider? Or Jup?”

“No, far from it; and I wouldn’t expect it from orcs. If anybody knows what it’s like to be outcasts it’s your race. But when all’s said and done you’ve got your ways and we’ve got ours. We can’t help our differences. Though it has to be said that dwarfs are more acceptable to orcs than humans, given your history.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“Mind you, Jode doesn’t seem typical of his kind.”

“No, that’s Standeven.”

They shared a low, conspiratorial chuckle over that, and both of them glanced at Standeven, picking his way through surly groups of Wolverines lounging on the sand.

“I just wanted you to know somebody in the band backs you,” Spurral said, “and I suspect Jup and me aren’t the only ones.”

“Thanks, Spurral.”

“Hey, look, here comes Stryke.” She nodded in the direction of the jungle’s fringe.

“Let’s hope he’s bearable.”

As he drew nearer, Coilla’s impression was that Stryke seemed a jot restored. There was a hint of purpose in his gait that had been missing earlier.

He acknowledged them with a slight bob of the head. “What’s happening?”

“We were hoping you’d tell us,” Coilla replied. “Got a plan?”

“An issue of brandy tots to buck up the band. They look as though they could use it.”

“That’s not much of a plan, Stryke.”

“For where we go next, no, it isn’t. That I don’t know. What I do know is that this fighting unit works best, and figures things out best, when it’s in good order. Let’s get ’em up and busy.”

“Then what?”

“We’ll see.”

Spurral felt a little superfluous. She wandered away, just a few paces, and stared at their ship, gently swaying at anchor offshore.

She noticed splashes of foam on the otherwise calm surface. As she watched, the splashing became more of a commotion. Others saw it, too. Orcs were standing, and some were calling out.

Stryke and Coilla joined her.

There was a great disturbance in the water now.

“What the hell’s going on?” Stryke wanted to know.

A large area of the sea was churning. Through the misty spray they caught a flash of glistening, leathery skin.

Spurral whispered, “My gods…”

“What is it?” Coilla said.

Something very big and bulky was rising out of the water.

Spurral tried to speak, but nothing came.

“ What is it? ” Coilla repeated.

Turning to her, Spurral managed, “The… Krake.”