Orcs:Bad blood

14

In sharp contrast to the ruined land of Maras-Dantia, Acurial was fair.

Its jade-coloured fields and lush pastures washed against the rims of dense forests. The streams ran crystal clear. An abundance of wildlife roamed the woods, and smaller creatures burrowed in the undergrowth. Birds of many hues wheeled in the cloudless skies.

The river flowed southward, so the Wolverines marched beside it for several hours. When it curved to the west, they found a trail running in the direction they sought, and took that. They met no other travellers.

As the day lengthened the earlier warmth began to abate.

Stryke was at the head of the column, with Jup at his side.

The dwarf looked back at the band. "They're starting to flag a bit. Can we spare time for a break? They haven't eaten properly since yesterday, and that was a world away."

Stryke nodded. "But we'll keep it short, and no fires. And we eat the rations we're carrying; I don't want anybody off hunting."

The band left the trail and made for a stand of trees. Lookouts were posted, and hardtack and water was distributed.

When everyone had eaten their fill, Stryke allowed them a brief rest. Perched on fallen tree trunks, some of the band reflected on how Acurial differed from the world they recently left.

"Compared to this place," Jup was saying, "Maras-Dantia's completely bust. Failing harvests, barren livestock, fouled rivers; you know the score."

"Yet there are humans in Acurial too," Coilla replied, "and they don't seem to have screwed things up here."

More than one pair of stern eyes turned to Standeven and Pepperdyne.

"So far," Jup amended. "We don't know how long they've been here. It took them a generation or more to devastate Maras-Dantia, and maybe longer before the magic started to bleed away."

"I wonder if magic works in this world," Coilla mused.

"That hadn't occurred to me. But… why shouldn't it? Unless Maras-Dantia was special in some way, maybe all worlds have magic. Or at least the energy to make it work."

"Find out," Stryke suggested. "Your skill could be useful to us."

"All right." Jup got to his feet and surveyed the area. "I'll try over there."

As everyone watched, he set off for a gully thirty or forty paces away. A small stream trickled along it, and it was shaded by a couple of mature trees. Jup took out a knife and squatted by the stream. He gouged a hole in the earth, and when he judged it deep enough, wormed his hand into it.

"What's he doing?" Wheam asked.

"Magic shows itself in different ways for different races," Stryke explained. "With dwarfs, it's farsight."

Wheam was puzzled. "Farsight?"

"Being able to sense things beyond what can be picked up with eyes or ears."

"Which is handy for tracking," Coilla added.

"There's energy in the earth that governs the magic," Stryke said. "It's most powerful near water. I don't know why. But dwarfs with farsight can feel the energy's strength, and how it flows."

"How does magic show itself with orcs?" Pepperdyne said.

"It doesn't. We've no command of magic, and neither do humans."

"So if this world has only orcs and humans, nobody practises magic?"

"Right." Stryke didn't mention the likes of Serapheim, who was an exception among humans anyway. Or the possibility that Jennesta was in this world. He saw no reason to tell Pepperdyne and his master any more than he had to.

Jup came back, slapping the dirt from his hands. "I was right. There's energy here, and it's strong. Pure. I'd say there's a big concentration of it not far away, and the flow's southward."

"Taress?" Stryke wondered.

"Suppose it must be."

"We should be moving then."

Wheam popped up. Somehow his beloved lute had survived intact, and he brandished it. "Time for a song before we go? To put a spring in our step?" He saw their expressions. "A tune then? A rousing air to send us on our — "

"If you do," Haskeer told him, "I'll kill you."

" On your feet, Wolverines! " Stryke barked. "We're marching!"

The old shepherd was right about them arriving at sundown.

Standing on the crest of a steep hill, the band looked down at the settlement. They were surprised at how big it was. The fringes of the city consisted of acres of dwellings, shot through with alleys, lanes and crooked streets. Nearer the centre there were taller structures, with a dotting of towers and spires, and what could have been fortifications. Although it was dusk, few lights were visible.

Weapons concealed, they began their descent.

They arrived at the outskirts without seeing anyone, and came to a wide cobbled road leading into the city. Halfway along its length stood the first houses. They looked shabby, and there was no sign of the inhabitants.

"Orcs live here?" Coilla said.

"It looks as though nobody lives here," Stryke replied.

They entered the maze of streets. Every door was closed, all windows were shuttered. There were no lights.

"Where is everybody?" Spurral wondered.

Jup pointed. "Here's somebody."

On the opposite side of the road, a lone figure was sprinting in their direction.

"Get out of sight, all of you," Stryke ordered.

The band quickly retreated into the shadowy mouth of an adjacent alley.

As the running figure drew level, Stryke saw that it was a young orc, wrapped in a grey cloak.

"What's going on?" he shouted over to him.

The orc slowed and looked Stryke's way. He was obviously puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Where is everybody?"

"Don't you know what hour it is?"

"What's that got to do with — "

"It's almost dark! Get off the streets! They'll be here soon!"

"Who?"

The orc didn't answer. He ran on and disappeared round a corner.

Coilla emerged from the alley. "What the hell was that all about?"

"Perhaps we found the only crazy orc in town," Jup ventured.

"What now?" Haskeer wanted to know.

"We push on," Stryke decided, "and keep alert."

They moved deeper into the silent, deserted metropolis. In street after street it was the same story; bolted doors, barred windows and unlit dwellings. They didn't encounter so much as a stray dog or prowling cat.

At length they came to a public square, bordered by houses on all sides and fed by a street at each corner. In its centre was a large patch of muddy grass, and in the middle of that was a tall wooden structure.

"Do you see what that is?" Coilla said.

Stryke blinked in the gloom. "No, what?"

"It's a gallows."

"So they go in for public executions here."

"Yeah, but of who?"

"Stryke," Haskeer said, looking restless, "what's our aim? Where we heading?"

"I don't know. I didn't expect a ghost town."

"Great. So we've gone into this halfarsed."

"Think you could have done better?"

"I'd at least have a plan."

"Gods protect us from any plan of yours."

"I wouldn't have us wandering like tits in a trance."

"Hold your tongue, Sergeant. Unless you want me to take that helmet and shove it up — "

Coilla put a finger to her lips. "Sssshh!"

"Stay out of this, Corporal."

"No! I mean listen."

Everyone froze.

Although a way off, the sound was unmistakable, and it was swiftly growing louder.

"Marching," Jup whispered.

"Where's it coming from?" Stryke said.

"Can't tell."

The sound was swelling, and close to hand.

"Take cover!" Stryke ordered.

The band began to move

None of them got more than ten paces before a group of humans entered the square at the next turning. They were about forty in number, and wore uniforms that in the half light could have been black or dark blue. All were heavily armed, and perhaps a third of them held shaded lanterns

At their head was the unit's commander, and it was he who bellowed, "Halt!"

His troop spread out to either side of him as they advanced, so that they approached almost in a line.

The Wolverines stopped in their tracks and looked to Stryke.

He knew they might have made a run for it, but he didn't want to risk scattering the band. In any event, running wasn't their way. He signalled for them to stay put.

He caught a glance from Coilla and mouthed, "Maybe we can bluff our way out of this."

She raised a sceptical eyebrow.

The human commander was short and thickset. He had a bushy black moustache that perched beneath his nostrils and didn't reach either end of his sneer. His raven hair was longish and slicked back.

When the line of humans were close enough to spit at, he barked an order and they halted. The commander himself continued walking, and two subordinates dogged him, one on each side, a pace or two to his rear. There was a practised air to the manoeuvre, an exhibition of military precision that was almost comical.

The trio stopped when they came to Stryke, Haskeer and Coilla, who were foremost.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the commander thundered.

"Just taking the air," Stryke replied, feigning innocence.

" Just… taking… the… air," the human repeated, his tone pure mockery. "And the curfew be damned, is that it?"

"Didn't know there was one."

The commander's face reddened. "Are you trying to — " He checked himself and stared past Stryke at Jup and Spurral. "What are they?"

"Not again," Jup sighed under his breath.

Shoving forward for a better look, the commander caught sight of Pepperdyne and Standeven at the back of the crowd. His confusion doubled. "Are you these creatures' prisoners?"

"No," Pepperdyne told him, "we're together."

" Together? You're fraternising with the natives?"

"What'd you mean, natives?" Haskeer objected.

"We've got a troupe of jesters here," the commander declared, loud enough for his men to hear. "A company of fools. But we'll see who has the last laugh."

"Doubt it'll be you," Coilla said.

He turned to her. "What did you say?"

"Won't be you laughing."

"Is that so?"

"Sure. You need a heartbeat for that."

"Which I have."

"Not for long."

"Are you threatening me?" He seemed to find the notion amusing.

"Call it… a prediction."

"Well, here's a prediction of mine. You freaks are about to pay the price for disrespecting your betters."

Coilla smiled. "Bring it on."

He clutched a pair of studded leather gloves. Seething with fury, he cracked her savagely across the face with them.

The band tensed.

Coilla lifted a hand to her cheek. Blood was trickling from the corner of her mouth. She spat it out, narrowly missing the commander's shiny boots. Staring into his eyes, she announced evenly, "He's mine."

The commander laughed. "Oh, really. And since when did your kind have the guts to stand up to a superior?"

"How about since now?" she informed him pleasantly.

Quick as thought she delivered a mighty kick to his crotch. He let out an agonised yelp and doubled. She sprang forward and grabbed him by the ears. Pulling his head down, she pounded his face against her upraised knee a couple of times. There was a satisfying crunch of cartilage.

As she let him drop, Stryke and Haskeer whipped out their blades. Haskeer rammed his sword deep into the chest of one lieutenant. Stryke buried twin daggers into the flanks of the other.

It all happened so fast that the rest of the humans were too stupefied to act. Many wore expressions of shocked disbelief.

Then someone yelled, " Terrorists! " and mayhem broke out.

Weapons drawn, the mob of Wolverines and the line of humans rushed at each other. In the middle of the square they melded, then spiralled into a score of fights.

Though outnumbered, the more so as Standeven and Wheam effectively counted as non-combatants, the orcs made up the deficiency by battling with their habitual ferocity. And at first, they had another edge: the humans seemed stunned that orcs would fight at all.

There was a terrible harmony in the way the warband worked together. They hacked, cleaved, slashed and battered their way through obstructing flesh. If there was finesse, Pepperdyne was its only practitioner.

In this, his fighting style was nearer the humans. Where orcs pummelled, he engaged. Though whether employing savagery or swordsmanship the upshot was the same. Soon the cobblestones ran red and slippery. Of the human company's original number, only a third were still on their feet. The Wolverines had taken minor wounds, but no fatalities.

"We've got 'em licked!" Haskeer bragged.

"Don't crow too soon," Stryke told him. "Look."

More uniformed men were running into the square from the streets on its far side. There were at least twice as many as in the unit the orcs were fighting.

Haskeer was contemptuous. "Since when did we worry about odds?"

"They could be the van of a lot more."

"So what do we do?"

"Kill 'em," Stryke hissed.

"Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" He turned and swiped at an encroaching human, cleaving his ribs.

Fighting alongside Jup and Spurral, Coilla spotted the newcomers too. "They've got back-up!" she yelled.

Jup shattered a skull with his staff. "I see 'em. Never a dull moment with this band." He spun to break a foe's arm, before toppling him into Spurral's path, who deftly finished the job with twin knife thrusts.

Coilla admired their teamwork.

"Maybe we shouldn't have taken on this lot," Spurral said.

"And missed a scrap?" Coilla replied. "We don't think like that."

But she could see that the humans were taking heart from the reinforcements and fighting harder.

And then a fresh element was added.

As though obeying an unheard signal, the humans fighting the orcs began to disengage and pull back. They left their dead and dying where they fell.

Jup punched air. "They're retreating!"

"I wouldn't count on it," Coilla said.

As the humans hastily withdrew they moved aside, giving a clear view of the new contingent. At their head stood three figures dressed differently to all the others. They wore what appeared to be robes, and they were hooded.

Where there had been the cacophony of battle, there was now a deathly silence. The Wolverines held their ground, looking on.

"Are they priests or what?" Haskeer wondered.

Stryke shrugged.

"Whatever the fuck they are, what are we waiting for?"

"Steady. Something's going on."

The three hooded figures pulled objects from their robes. It was difficult to tell what they were from a distance, but they resembled small metal tridents the size of long daggers.

"What the hell they doing?" Haskeer said.

"Don't know. But I don't like it."

The trio raised the tridents and pointed them in the orcs' direction.

Stryke bellowed, " Everybody down! "

There was a blinding flash of light. The tridents spewed intense shafts of red, green and yellow iridescence.

The band hit the ground a split second before the crackling beams of energy streaked above their heads. Two struck buildings behind the prone warband, demolishing a heavy door and punching a hole in a wall. Bricks and mortar rained down. The third bolt impacted the corner of the gallows, instantly igniting it.

A second volley had Wolverines rolling in the dirt to avoid the searing beams. The shafts raked the ground like small lightning strikes, dislodging cobblestones and throwing up sparks.

Stryke lifted his head and looked around. He saw Hystykk and Jad stretched out nearby. Both had bows. Hugging the ground, he slithered over to them.

"Bring those bastards down!" he ordered.

Awkwardly, the grunts wriggled the bows from their backs. They quickly nocked arrows and took aim at the robed figures.

An arrow zinged into the chest of one of the trident bearers. He staggered and fell.

"Eh?" Hystykk muttered.

He hadn't loosed his arrow. Neither had Jad.

Arrows peppered the other two robed figures. One unleashed a glaring energy bolt as he fell. It lanced straight up, illuminating the sky. Then died.

There was a roar.

Another mob swept into the square. They outnumbered the humans, and rushed to attack them.

Stryke clambered to his feet.

Coilla ran to him. "They're orcs!"

"What the fuck's going on?" Haskeer exclaimed.

Stryke shook his head. "Pull back the band. Get 'em into a defensive pattern."

Obeying yelled orders, the Wolverines quickly came together.

Ahead, a bloody melee raged. A group of five or six orcs peeled off from it and raced their way.

The one leading them shouted, "Who's in charge?"

"Me," Stryke told him.

"Come with us." He saw the humans and dwarfs. "Prisoners?"

"No, we're together."

The orc was taken aback. "You're kidding."

"They're with us," Stryke repeated.

"We can't take humans," one of the other orcs protested. He glared in turn at Standeven and Pepperdyne, and at the dwarfs.

"We'll sort this out later," the leader decided. "Let's move!"

"Where?" Stryke asked.

"More of them are on the way. Stay and you'll die."

"Who are you?"

"Come on!" He began to move off.

Stryke hesitated for a second, then signalled the band to follow.

As they ran into the darkened streets, Coilla said, "Stryke, those humans used magic!"