Inferno

26

“ What do we have to take?” Stryke said. “What’s so important?”

“I believe that what lies over there is going to be vital to us. But we need more information. Will you let me take a look?”

“Go ahead.”

The shape-changer transformed himself into a bird. It was difficult to say what kind. A large seagull, perhaps, although it was black. He took off at speed.

“Why does he always seem to know more than he’s telling?” Jup wondered.

“That’d crossed my mind,” Haskeer said.

“A short journey, then.”

Dynahla was soon back. Once he changed form he stated, simply, “It’s a weapon.”

“What kind?” Stryke asked.

“A kind you’re unlikely to have seen before. You should go and look at it.”

“Why?”

“As I said, it’ll be useful for what follows.”

“And what’s that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fat lot of use you are,” Haskeer muttered.

“I don’t know specifically,” Dynahla said, “but I know there’ll be challenges. What I do know is you need that device to be able to advance further.”

“ How do you know that?”

“Serapheim told me.”

“Why didn’t you tell us until now?”

“I didn’t know I had to until we got here. And all Serapheim told me was that in this place gift horses shouldn’t be ignored. That weapon’s here for a reason. Everything is here for a reason. You have to take it.”

“Well…”

“At least have a look. Would that hurt?”

“All right. But it better be worth it.”

“I think you’ll find it is.”

The band headed for the cliffs.

When they got to the object it proved extraordinary. It was essentially a long dark metal tube or pipe, with the circumference of a hogshead, mounted on wheels. From its arrangement of gears and handles it looked as though the tube’s angle could be adjusted. On one side at its blunt end was a large wheel, on the other a lever. The top of the tube had a sight, in the form of a raised ring with an inset cross. There were wide grooves on both sides of the chassis that bore the weapon. They each held around a dozen sizeable black globes, possibly of iron.

“How does it work?” Coilla said.

“I think I know,” Dynahla replied.

Haskeer looked to him. “Weapons expert now, are you?”

“No. But when I was here before I changed myself into something that could get inside this thing. Well, not that small, but an appendage with an eye attached did the job.”

“And you figured it out?” Stryke asked.

“I think so. Inside that tube there’s a very powerful coil, made of some sort of tough, flexible metal. You drop one of these balls down the tube, then turn that wheel at the end. That draws back the coil, taking the ball with it. When it’s in place, the lever releases the coil. It comes free with enough energy to launch the ball. And with a lot of force, I imagine.”

“Clever,” Jup declared admiringly.

“They’re a size,” Haskeer said, pointing at the weighty metal balls.

“Nearly as big as your head. Though less dense.”

Haskeer contented himself with giving the dwarf a murderous look.

“This thing must weigh a ton,” Stryke said.

“We can couple the millipedes to it,” Dynahla suggested. “They’re strong. And maybe there’ll be a bit of hauling where necessary. But believe me, Stryke, we should take it.”

“All right, I believe you. I hope this isn’t wasted effort, for your sake.”

Wheam was staring at the weapon. “How come it’s just sitting here? Doesn’t it belong to somebody?”

“Quite possibly,” the shape-changer replied. “In which case you might have to fight for it.”

Wheam looked around. “Fight who?”

“If we’re lucky, nobody. But we should stay alert.”

“That we can do,” Stryke told him.

Using rope the band carried, along with some pleated vines, they fashioned crude harnesses. They found that two millipedes were capable of pulling the load, as well as carrying riders.

When they were finally ready, Stryke said, “We have to skirt these cliffs. Which means going away from north and then turning back to it once we’re round ’em.”

“What about that canyon?” Coilla suggested. “Isn’t that heading north?”

The peculiar daytime star hung directly above it.

“I guess it does. If it’s not a dead end.”

Dynahla offered to find out. He changed to his black bird guise and took off. Before long he was back to confirm that the canyon did indeed go clean through the cliffs.

“What’s it like on the other side?” Stryke wanted to know.

“More or less like this, though rockier. There are some caves.”

“All right, let’s move.”

They set off, unsteadily at first, hauling the weapon.

The canyon was narrow and high-sided. Its floor was stony, with occasional clumps of miserable vegetation. It didn’t run straight; there were bends.

As one of these came into sight they saw a shadow cast by something moving their way. Something very large. Stryke halted the convoy. No sooner had they stopped than a creature rounded the bend.

It could have passed for vaguely human, apart from its size. High as a fully grown oak, and looking as hardy, it was male. The creature was naked save for a loincloth of pelts. He was an extremely hirsute specimen, with a bushy head of hair, a full beard and a mane on his chest, all rust-coloured. There was a belt at his waist, and tucked through it a club as big as a young tree. His piggy eyes held a malevolent glint.

When he saw them he gave a furious roar.

“Shit, an ogre,” Jup said. “That’s all we need.”

“I think we can guess who the weapon belonged to,” Spurral added.

“Why didn’t you see this when you scouted, Dynahla?” Stryke demanded.

Before the fetch could answer somebody yelled “ Watch out!”

The ogre had lifted a sizeable rock and was getting ready to throw it at them.

“Back!” Stryke ordered. “ Pull back!”

“You tried getting these things to back up?” Haskeer shouted, pulling hard on a millipede’s reins.

Those hauling the weapon had an even harder time trying to turn in the confined space. But they managed to retreat a short distance, albeit ending up in something of a shambles.

The rock came down with a thunderous crash, short of the band but too close for ease. His simple face twisted with fury, the ogre scrabbled for another one.

“Archers!” Stryke bellowed.

The bows came out and defensive fire was unleashed. Arrows soared towards their bemused target, and many hit. More than anything, the ogre seemed surprised. The shafts may have stung him but they were doing no real harm. Adjusting their aim, the archers tried for more sensitive areas, around the face and neck.

The ogre lobbed his second rock. It was short again but a lot nearer, throwing up a cloud of shale and dust that pelted the band. Immediately, the creature started to advance, hampered a little by the irritation of arrows. Then one penetrated his cheek, drawing an angry bellow. He plucked it out, stared stupidly at it and flung it away. A trickle of blood flowed down the side of his face. He drew the vicious-looking club, and tried batting at the incoming arrows with it.

“This could be the time to put our weapon to the test, Stryke,” Coilla suggested.

“Just what I was thinking.”

“If we can get it working in time,” Jup added, sliding from the millipede’s back.

The archers had only a limited supply of arrows but they kept firing. Stryke ordered everybody else to uncouple the weapon, a task complicated by the fact that the ogre’s approach was causing the millipedes to become skittish.

To buy them time, Dynahla changed himself into an eagle and flew off to harass the ogre with wickedly sharp talons. Down below, the band struggled to disengage the weapon and turn it.

The ogre took to swiping at Dynahla with his club. Successfully turned, the weapon was being primed. A couple of grunts heaved one of the metal balls into the tube’s mouth. Several more privates, along with a bellowing Haskeer, were straining to turn the wheel that drew back the coil.

Dynahla narrowly avoided being struck by the club. He circled, swooped again and was almost caught by it a second time. The shape-changer called it quits and flew down to the band. He landed, and transformed in one fluid motion, as the weapon was being tilted upwards. Nep and Seafe were bouncing up and down on its nonbusiness end to encourage progress.

Finally they were set. The ogre, frantic with rage, was bearing down on them. Stryke had his hand on the firing lever and was peering through the sight.

“What you waiting for?” Haskeer said.

“We only get one chance. I want him nearer.”

The ogre was obliging. He began jogging towards them, the club raised, his footfalls like thunder.

“For the gods’ sake, Stryke!” Coilla exclaimed.

Still he hesitated.

The ogre was close enough for them to be in his shadow.

Stryke pulled the lever. The weapon bucked. The ball shot from the cylinder.

It reached its target in a blink, striking the ogre full in the chest with a sickening thump. He expelled a huge breath, face contorted in pain. Then he fell, crashing to the ground and making it shake. He was still.

The band gave it a moment before cautiously approaching.

“Dead as a doorknob,” Jup declared.

“Well, at least we know this thing works,” Coilla said.

“Let’s hope he was the only one.”

The killing ball was retrieved. Then Stryke got the band to roll the monstrous corpse to one side of the track so they could get by. Next they had to re-couple the weapon and sort out their mounts. After that they took a short breather and passed round the water bottles. Stryke judged that a small alcohol ration was deserved, too, and let them break out the rough brandy. Wheam had a coughing fit when he took his tot. Standeven drained his in one go and asked for more, but was ignored. A drunk crazy human was an additional burden Stryke could do without.

They set off again, steering past the gargantuan cadaver.

A while later, riding across the scrubby land on the other side of the canyon, Coilla observed, “This never-ending high noon is putting everybody out, Stryke.”

“It feels strange, yeah.”

“But mostly they need sleep. We all do. We didn’t have that much before we came here. And the band needs feeding.”

“I want to push on.”

“They’ll be good for nothing if we do.”

He sighed. “Right. But it won’t be for long. Organise the shifts.”

They found a defensible spot by a heap of boulders. The weapon was secured, the mounts fussed over a bit, and sentries posted. Stryke didn’t want to waste time hunting for game, if there was any, and got the band to dip into their iron rations. Sleep proved difficult in the unrelenting sunlight, but they were tired enough that most managed at least some.

Far too soon for everybody, Stryke ordered them to break camp, and they resumed their journey rested if not refreshed.

They rode for a long time, heading straight for the northern star. The land became more verdant, and they found themselves moving across a grassy expanse. Fortunately the vegetation wasn’t full enough to hamper them. Whether that was because something grazed here, or because the magic of the old sorcerers had willed it so, they didn’t know.

Pepperdyne was the first to spot something out of the ordinary. In the distance, running to right and left as far as they could see, was an unbroken, yellowish-brown line. Dynahla once more volunteered to check on it. He chose the form of a dove. The band took the chance to stretch their legs.

“You have to admit he’s handy to have around,” Coilla said as she watched Dynahla flap away.

“Still gives me the creeps though,” Haskeer said.

She glanced at the millipedes. “Do these need feeding or watering? They haven’t taken anything since we got them.”

“Suppose so. Don’t know what though.”

“They seem content nibbling the grass,” Spurral told them.

“Yeah,” Jup said. “Dynahla reckons they’re not meat-eaters, despite looking the way they do.”

“I think they’re kind of cute.”

Jup made a face.

“Ugly bastards,” Haskeer muttered.

“That’s the kind of thing that gets said about us,” Coilla reminded him.

“Not to my face it ain’t.”

“They can’t bear looking at it,” Jup suggested with a smirk.

“How’d you like your own rearranged, pipsqueak?”

“Any time you’ve got the strength to try, horse breath.”

Stryke was about to slap them down when someone shouted, “He’s coming back!”

The dove fluttered in and became Dynahla.

“Well?” Stryke said.

“It’s a wall, and well defended.”

“By what?”

“Werebeasts, as far as I could see.”

“We’ve tangled with them before. What kind are they?”

“The kind that can switch from basically human to something like a bear.”

“That kind we haven’t seen before. Any chance we could parley with them?”

“You could try, but I doubt it. Though I suppose if you had something of value to offer as tribute-”

“We’ve nothing.”

“I thought not. And it’s in the nature of this place that obstacles have to be fought through not talked through. I think you can see now why we’ve had to haul the weapon with us.”

“There’s no way round this wall?”

“No. Well, maybe if we travelled a much longer way we might find that it ends. But I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Let’s get closer to it.”

“There’s at least one gate. I’ll show you where.”

When they were near enough to make it out, they saw that the wall looked ancient, but no less solid for that. They could make out figures on its high ramparts and, as Dynahla said, a massive pair of gates, made of timber, with iron straps.

Stryke decided to try talking after all. Thirzarr was on his mind, as always, and some kind of pact would be quicker than having a battle.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes too high,” Dynahla cautioned, “and approach with care. They didn’t look particularly welcoming to me.”

Stryke took one of the millipedes, along with Haskeer, Jup, and Calthmon, who was in charge of the beast. They made a white flag, the universal sign of truce, or so they hoped. Haskeer hated white flags. In his detestation of the idea of a token of surrender, or even reasonableness, he was fairly representative of the band as a whole. He refused to hold it, and that fell to Jup.

They made for the wall.

Figures on the battlements watched as they approached. They looked like humans, which gave Haskeer little confidence in the outcome of any talks.

Stopping a short distance away, Stryke cupped his hands and called out in Mutual. “ We come in peace! Can we talk?”

Several of the werecreatures conferred, but there was no answer.

Stryke called again. “ We’re here peaceably! We want to parley!”

The figures seemed to grow darker and bulkier.

“Looks like they’re changing,” Jup said.

“Is that good?” Haskeer asked.

A swarm of arrows came down on them.

“No,” Jup said.

They were lucky not to be hit. But one arrow had struck the millipede, causing it to squirm. Stryke leaned forward and pulled the shaft out.

More arrows came, and several spears. They fell short.

“Get us out of here, Calthmon!” Stryke yelled.

They retreated to the sound of something like cheers from the battlements.

“The weapon?” Jup asked as they headed back.

“Yeah,” Stryke confirmed.

They dragged it to a point where they thought they could hit the wall but far enough away for the werebeasts’ arrows to be ineffective. The ritual of loading and priming the weapon was undertaken.

Gleadeg and Prooq were steady, dependable hands. Stryke let them take care of the firing.

“First shot, Captain?” Prooq said. “The doors?”

“Let’s try for the battlements.”

They adjusted the angle.

“Ready?” Gleadeg asked.

Stryke nodded.

The lever went back and the weapon bucked. With a hearty thomp the ball shot out and flew almost too fast to be seen.

It struck the battlements. There was a crash of masonry and a cloud of dust. When it cleared there was a hole in the battlements and the werebeasts weren’t to be seen.

“Now the doors,” Stryke said.

They were already realigning the tube, and a ball was being lifted. That done, Stryke made sure the rest of the band was mounted and ready.

The weapon went off. The doors exploded in a shower of timber chips and iron fragments.

“Move! Move! Move!” Stryke bellowed.

Most of the band tore towards the doors, with Stryke on the lead mount. The remainder worked frantically to hitch up the weapon and follow them.

For a moment they thought the doors hadn’t been completely downed. But as they got nearer they could see daylight through the aperture, and a glimpse of the land beyond. The plan was simple. Clear the battlement. Take down the doors. Get through them, fast. The first two had been achieved, the third was going to be tricky.

They raced to their goal. The pair of millipedes pulling the weapon were at the back. As the wall loomed, Stryke wasn’t alone in wondering if the entrance was wide enough to take them.

More werebeasts appeared on the battlements, running in from outposts. They loosed arrows. The Wolverines brought shields up. That, and their speed, got them through the first spate of arrows untouched. The second came just as they reached the gate. Shafts and spears clattered against their upraised shields. Then they were scampering over the ruined doors and through the opening. Another shower of arrows met them on the other side, and proved as ineffective, although two of the mounts took minor wounds.

The rest of the band shot through, braving the deluge from above, which now included rocks and the contents of buckets. Last in was the tubular weapon, its mounts scuttling like fury, a dozen orcs clinging to their backs. The weapon bounced over the debris from the destroyed doors, and at one point looked close to flipping, but it kept steady and escaped.

The Wolverines didn’t slacken their speed until they were well away.