Inferno

Epilogue II

In the months that followed, the destruction Jennesta had brought to the orcs’ settlement on Ceragan was cleared up. New longhouses were built and corrals repaired.

The more personal hurts took longer to fade.

Stryke wandered through a fine summer’s day. The sky was blue, the birds were singing, there was abundant game in the vales, forests and rivers.

He passed Thirzarr, sitting at a wooden bench outside their lodge, chopping a carcass with a razor-keen hatchet. They exchanged a smile. Nearby, Haskeer was fooling on the grass with Corb and Janch, the hatchlings fit to burst with laughter. Stryke increased his pace a little at that point, lest Haskeer collar him to say, once more, how right he’d been about Dallog.

Wheam and his father, Quoll, were sitting on the steps of the chieftain’s longhouse. Wheam was plinking on his battered goblin lute. Quoll was acting as if he enjoyed it.

Farther along, in a quieter corner, he spotted Coilla sitting on the ground by Pepperdyne’s grave, a spot she still came to frequently. He went to her.

When she saw him she said, “What do you think Jode would have thought of it here?”

“I reckon he would have liked it. Might have been a bit of a change from what he was used to though.”

“I don’t think he minded change. None of us should. Didn’t somebody say the only thing that stays constant is change?”

“Probably. And it’s just as well you feel that way.” He reached out and gave her greatly swollen stomach an affectionate pat. “Because nothing’s going to be the same again.”