Inferno

3

Stryke’s fury had subsided. Cold purpose took its place.

He set about getting things organised. As it was nearly dusk, the dwarfs’ remaining undamaged longhouses were commandeered and the surrounding area secured. A group was sent to the goblin ship the band had arrived in, to replenish its rations and to guard it. Scouting parties were dispatched to comb the island.

Having done as much as he could for the time being, Stryke sat down on the steps of one of the longhouses and fell to brooding. Everybody in the band knew better than to approach him. With one exception.

Jup came to him with a steaming bowl and a canteen. “Here.” He offered the food. Stryke barely looked at it, and said nothing. “You’ve got to eat,” the dwarf told him. “For Thirzarr. You’ll be no good famished.”

Stryke took the bowl. He stared at its contents. “What is it?”

Jup seated himself. “Lizard. The jungle’s full of ’em. That other stuff’s leaves and roots,” he added helpfully. “There’s fruit too, but I figured you need meat.”

Stryke began eating, without enthusiasm.

After a moment, Jup ventured, “About Thirzarr…” He ignored Stryke’s baleful expression and pushed on. “I’ll tell you what you told me when Spurral got taken. Your mate has a value to Jennesta. And you don’t damage something of value.”

“What value? Why should Jennesta give a damn about Thirzarr’s life?”

“Don’t know. It could be as simple as antagonising you. What’s important is that Jennesta kept Thirzarr alive; she didn’t leave her lying on the beach back there.”

“But the state she was in. Like one of the bitch’s damned undead.”

“Not quite. Jennesta threatened to make Thirzarr that way. But she didn’t do it. That’s more reason for hope, Stryke.”

“We don’t know she hasn’t. And it’s not just Thirzarr. There’s Corb and Janch. What value are they to her?”

“There’s no reason to think-”

“And Ceragan itself; what might she have done there?”

“Stryke.”

“Come to that, what if-”

“ Stryke. Could she have made Ceragan more of a shit hole than Maras-Dantia?”

Jup was gratified when that drew a thin smile. “Where do we go from here?” Stryke said.

“Not sure. We just have to believe that a way’s going to open for us. But you know we’re with you, Stryke. The whole band. Whatever it takes.”

Stryke nodded and went on eating mechanically.

They sat in silence.

Not far away, just inside the jungle’s lip, Coilla and Pepperdyne were foraging.

He stooped and ripped up a handful of purplish leaves. “Do you think these are all right?”

Coilla looked, then sniffed the bouquet. She made a face. “I wouldn’t risk it unless you want to poison everybody.”

He tossed the clump away. “This is harder than I thought. Things seem more or less the same in this world as ours, but when you take a closer look…”

“Yes, there are differences in the small stuff. But think about how big some of the differences were in those other worlds we went to. We were lucky with this one.”

“Talking of which, you started to tell me how what we call our home world isn’t really your home world, despite you being born there. What the hell was that all about?”

“It’s not the real home of any of the elder races. As we were told it, it rightly belongs to your race.”

“And?”

“You want to hear it now?”

“What else is there to do? Unless you’d prefer to-” He reached for her.

She wriggled free, laughing. “Whoa! Steady. All right. It’s complicated, and I don’t even know if it’s true, but-”

“It’s just a fairy story then.”

“The stories they tell would freeze your blood. No, we reckon what we heard’s probably true, but… who knows?”

“So spill it.” He sat, then patted the sward next to him and she sat too.

“All right.” She gathered her thoughts. “The story goes that the world we both come from was the humans’ world. All we knew was our land; what we called Maras-Dantia and your race called Centrasia. We thought Maras-Dantia belonged to all the elder races living there, and that humans came from outside much later and fucked everything up.” She saw the look he gave her. “No offence.”

He smiled. “None taken. So what was the truth?”

“There were humans in Maras-Dantia before the great influx, or at least a few. One of them was Tentarr Arngrim, who calls himself Serapheim.”

“ Before the influx? You said he set you off on this mission. How old is this man?”

“Very, I guess. But he’s a sorcerer, so…” She shrugged. “Anyway, Serapheim’s mate was a sorceress called Vermegram. Whereas he’s human, she was… I don’t know. Something else. They had three offspring, all female. One was Jennesta. Then there was Adpar, who was part nyadd.”

“What’s that?”

“A kind of water sprite. Jennesta killed her.”

“Charming.”

“The third sister’s Sanara, who must take after her father ’cos she looks human. She helped us out of a fix in Maras-Dantia.”

“What’s all this got to do with-”

“I’m getting to it. What we know about those early days-”

“What you think you know.”

“Yeah, right. Now shut up. Serapheim or Vermegram, or maybe both of ’em, found a way to move between worlds. It’s what led to the stars Serapheim made. Or discovered.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all a bit vague. But their messing around opened… sort of cracks between worlds. Holes, if you like. And elder races fell through from their worlds to Maras-Dantia.”

“Including orcs.”

“Yeah. Which set us on the road to servitude, and wound up making us the backbone of Jennesta’s army. But that’s another story. The one I’m telling you ended with Serapheim and Vermegram falling out… somehow. Some say they turned from lovers to enemies, and there was a conflict. I don’t know anything about that. Vermegram’s reckoned to be dead, though nobody’s sure how or when.”

“Hang on. You said she wasn’t human.”

Coilla nodded. “You only had to look at Jennesta and Adpar to see that.”

“How could she be anything but human if she was in Maras-Dantia before the elder races arrived?”

“Fucked if I know, Jode. I’m not an oracle.”

“What you said about your people going into servitude; how did-”

“Enough questions. Some other time, all right?”

He was taken aback by the sharpness of her reply, but shrugged and said, “Sure.”

She changed the subject and softened her tone. “It’s getting cooler.”

He slipped an arm round her. She moved closer and laid her head against his shoulder.

There were shouts from the clearing.

“Damn!” Pepperdyne complained. “ Every time we get a quiet moment together…”

“Come on,” Coilla said, scrambling to her feet.

They headed back to the village.

One of the scouting parties had returned. They had four human prisoners with them, their hands tied behind their backs. Looking terrified, their uniforms dusty and tattered, they were forced to their knees. The band gathered around them, Stryke to the fore.

Orbon, who led the scouts, reported. “Found these stragglers further along the beach, Captain. There was no fight left in ’em.”

Grim-faced, Stryke approached and walked slowly along the line of crouching captives. All of them avoided his gaze and kept their heads down.

“I’ve just one question,” he told them. “Where has your mistress gone?”

A couple of the prisoners glanced nervously at each other, but none of them spoke.

“I’ll make myself plain,” he said, walking back and forth in front of them, his unsheathed sword in his hand. “I get an answer or you get dead.” He went to the first in line. “You! Where’s Jennesta?”

The man looked up. He was trembling. “We… That isn’t… the sort of thing she’d… tell the likes of us.”

“Wrong answer,” Stryke told him. He drove his sword into the prisoner’s chest. The man toppled, and lay twitching before he was still.

Stryke moved on to the next human. “Where’s Jennesta?” he repeated, his gory blade pressed to the captive’s throat.

This one was more resolute, or perhaps it was bravado. “You can go and fuck yourself, freak,” he grated, and made to spit in Stryke’s face.

He didn’t have the chance. Stryke brought back his sword and swung it hard. The blow was savage enough to part the man from his head, which bounced a couple of times before rolling to a halt at Standeven’s feet. His face drained of all colour and he hastily stepped back, looking queasy. The decapitated torso sat for a moment, gushing, before it fell.

The next man in line was older than the others and wore an officer’s uniform. He was splattered with his dead comrade’s blood.

Stryke turned to him. “Has that loosened your tongue? Or do I do the same to you?”

The man said nothing, though it was as likely from fear as courage. Stryke drew back his blade again.

“Wait!” Pepperdyne yelled, pushing his way forward. “What the hell are you doing, Stryke?”

“This is band business. Stay out of it.”

“Since when was it your business to slaughter unarmed prisoners?”

“You’ve a lot to learn about orcs, human.”

“I thought I’d already learned that you were honourable.”

That seemed to give Stryke pause for thought, but he didn’t lower his sword. “I need to know where the bitch’s taken Thirzarr.”

“You’ll not get anything out of dead men.”

“Force is all their kind understands.”

“My kind, you mean. And isn’t that what humans say about orcs?”

“We do understand it,” Haskeer protested.

Pepperdyne jabbed a thumb at the dead prisoners. “Not working too well here, is it?” He turned back to Stryke. “Let me try. Come on. I’m one of their kind; maybe they’ll open up to me.”

“Why don’t you keep your snout out of this?” Haskeer said. “You’re not in this band.”

“He’s proved himself,” Coilla told him. “I say we give it a chance.”

“Here we go again.”

“And what’s that mean?”

“You’re backing him. Again. Seems to me you should be siding with your own, not outsiders.”

“ We’re outsiders, you idiot! Everybody shits on us, curses us, hates us. You might think of that when you’re busy judging. Jode’s suffered as much as we have, in his way.”

“You’re talking about a human. They’re more shitters than shat upon, I reckon.”

Jup burst out laughing. “Sorry.” He tried to sober himself. “But… shitters? Shat upon? You outdo yourself, Haskeer.” He started laughing again. Several of the privates joined in. He made a better fist of composing himself. “Coilla’s right. Maybe Jode could make ’em talk.”

Haskeer was seething now. “You too, eh?”

“What have we got to lose? If it doesn’t work we can move on to cutting off a few of their fingers or toes or…” He glanced at the pair of alarmed prisoners. “Failing that, Stryke can finish ’em.”

“What is it you want, Stryke?” Pepperdyne asked. “Information or revenge?”

“There’s a lot to be said for revenge.”

“My people have a saying: ‘If you go out for revenge, build two pyres.’ ”

“I’ll build a hundred,” Stryke replied coldly, “a thousand…”

“Make the biggest for Jennesta. But you won’t learn where to find her from dead men.”

Stryke slowly lowered his sword. “Try. But be quick.”

“Thanks. Might be better if you all left us. I think you’re making the prisoners nervous.”

Stryke snapped an order and everyone retreated to the other end of the clearing, Haskeer mumbling unhappily as they went. Pepperdyne crouched by the two remaining humans and began some earnest talking.

The band settled down to wait.

Stretched out on the compacted earth of the clearing, Haskeer said to no one in particular, “How do we know he ain’t plotting with ’em?”

“What?” Coilla said. “When did you swap your brains for horse shit? Jode’s trying to help.”

“Yeah, we know how helpful humans can be.” He looked sharply at Standeven, sitting nearby, making him fidget uneasily.

“You’re full of it, Haskeer. You should wise up about who our friends are.”

“Friends, Coilla? Are you trying to tell me that-”

“You’re bruising my ears!” Stryke declared. “Give it a rest, you two.”

Haskeer and Coilla fell into aggrieved silence.

The band quietened down too. Pepperdyne carried on talking with the prisoners.

The orcs were just starting to get restless again when one of the perimeter sentries, Gant, called out to them. The second scouting party had returned.

It was led by Dallog, who had the tyro Pirrak at his side. Wheam walked alone, further back. But what caught everyone’s attention was who the scouts had with them; a party of dwarfs, three of them youngsters.

Spurral stood. “Isn’t that Kalgeck? And those kids who got us the map?” She ran towards them, Jup and some of the others close behind.

Kalgeck, with whom she had suffered captivity by the Gatherers, rushed forward to meet her and they embraced. The children, Heeg, Retlarg and Grunnsa, gathered round too.

“Am I glad to see you,” she told them, speaking in Mutual, the universal tongue. “Are you all right?”

Kalgeck nodded. “We managed to get to one of our hideaways. It was close though. We ran into some human soldiers, like those over there.” He pointed at the captives with Pepperdyne. “They would have killed us, except some of that other bunch with all the different races came along. Who were they?”

“We don’t know,” Spurral admitted. “Not exactly.”

“Anyway,” Kalgeck went on, “they protected us. They sort of sprayed fire at the soldiers and scared them off. Then they told us to run and hide.”

Coilla looked thoughtful. “Interesting.”

“Heads up,” Jup said. “Here comes Jode.”

Pepperdyne arrived, clutching a small piece of parchment.

“Luck?” Stryke asked.

“Some. It didn’t take much for them to see the light. They know roughly where Jennesta’s gone, but not why. One of them drew this.” He handed Stryke the paper.

It was a roughly drawn map, showing a cluster of islands, with one island, set apart from the rest, bearing a cross. The only other thing was a rudimentary set of arrows indicating the compass points.

“So it’s east of here,” Stryke said. “But how far?”

“They weren’t sure, but thought it was a couple of days’ voyage. So not too far.”

“Why not compare it with the map we’ve already got?” Spurral suggested. “The one these kids found for us.”

“Just about to,” Stryke told her. He fished it out of a pocket.

They unfolded it, laid it on the ground and compared the two.

“There,” Pepperdyne said, pointing to one corner.

“Yeah,” Stryke agreed. “They match, more or less.”

“We know about that island,” Retlarg announced.

“Do you?” Coilla asked. “How come?” All three children started to clamour. She held up a hand to still them. “Kalgeck? You know anything about this?”

“Yes. A couple of the elders were with us for a time when we were hiding. We heard them talking about it.”

“What did they say?”

“The humans, those soldiers, they were trying to find out where the island was. They took away some of our tribe to make them tell.”

“What’s so special about it?”

“It’s where your kind live.”

“What do you mean?”

“He means orcs,” Spurral said.

The youngsters all nodded vigorously and chorused agreement.

Pepperdyne, who had picked up enough Mutual to have a sense of what was being said, looked taken aback. “There are orcs in this world?”

“Why not?” Coilla reckoned. “There seem to be plenty of races here, just like in Maras-Dantia.”

“This is all about Jennesta’s scheme to create a slave orc army, isn’t it?” Jup put in.

“Orcs wouldn’t let her,” Coilla declared.

“Unless they’re a bunch of pussies like that lot in Acurial,” Haskeer contributed.

“How likely is that? They’d wipe the floor with her.”

“Yeah? With her magic-”

“We’re wasting time,” Stryke said. “We’ve got a destination. Let’s get to it.”

Pepperdyne indicated the prisoners. “What about them?”

“We’ll leave ’em to fend for themselves.”

“How’d you feel about that, Kalgeck?” Spurral wanted to know.

“There are parts of the island that are deserted. They can go there. We won’t interfere with them if they leave us alone.”

“Fair enough,” Stryke said. “Now let’s get to the ship.”