Orcs:Bad blood

29

The resistance let a week pass to lie low and regroup before renewing their harassment of the occupiers. In turn, the authorities bore down ever harder on the occupied.

With the possibility of a spy in their midst, the rebels trod warily, conscious that they could be exposed at any time. Stryke wasn't alone in thinking that the humans and dwarfs in his group were looked on with suspicion. A feeling strengthened perhaps when Jup's power of farsight had been revealed to Chillder, for all that the Wolverines tried to brush it off as mere "intuition."

The band found itself fully employed helping to put pressure on the humans. The Vixens, too, played their part in stirring things up. As reward, the first signs of disobedience by the general populace showed themselves. The hoped-for revolution started to look like more than a possibility.

Adding to the tension, and assuming the prediction was true, the comet Grilan-Zeat was expected almost hourly.

But for Stryke and his band one mission was paramount.

The plot to assassinate Jennesta was known to very few, even within the Wolverines. Stryke kept his team small, picking only Coilla and Haskeer, with Eldo and Noskaa as back-ups. A sufficient number as the plan depended on stealth, not force of arms. Equipped with a rough map of the interior, supplied by sympathisers working as menials in the fortress, Stryke and the others set out on the first cloudy night.

Like all old castles, Taress fortress was large and rambling, having been added to and refashioned over centuries. Such an acreage meant many walls to protect and doors to be kept barred. One particular annexe, projecting from the fort's eastern side and unprotected by the older moat, was where the daily needs of a garrison were most obvious. The kitchens and food stores were there, alongside the heaps of vegetable waste, stripped carcasses and other flyblown detritus waiting to be hauled away. It was the province of servants, and welcome to it.

There were guards, as everywhere on the perimeter, but they were few and Stryke had been told their routine. Furtive blades easily dealt with them, and their bodies were hidden in piles of refuse.

Finding a recessed door, Stryke softly knocked. The response was so long coming he was about to rap again when the sound of drawing bolts was heard. The door creaked open a crack and anxious eyes surveyed the group. Then it was pulled wide to usher them in.

The orc who admitted them was aged and crook-backed. He wore a once-white apron, grubby from toil and bloodstained.

"You know what you have to do?" Stryke said.

"It's little enough," the servant replied. "I get you in. After that you're on your own."

"What about you?"

"I'll go missing as soon as you're in, and I won't be the only one tonight." He stared at the group with rheumy eyes. "I don't know who you are, but if you're here to put paid to that… hell cat, I pray the gods are with you."

"You mean Jennesta."

"Who else?"

"It'd be better if you didn't know why we're here. For your own safety."

The old one nodded. "I hope it's her. The bitch. You wouldn't believe the depravity since she got here."

"I think we would," Coilla told him.

"Time's pressing," Stryke reminded them. "It won't be long before those sentries are found and — "

"Follow me," the servant instructed, reaching for a glowing lantern on a shelf by the door.

He led them through corridors and twisting passageways, up small flights of steps and down deep staircases. Until at last they reached a heavy door, which he unlocked with a brass key. There were more steps inside, going down to a dim passage.

"This is one of the tunnels we use to service our betters," he all but spat the word, "without them having to suffer the indignity of looking at us."

"We seem to spend a lot of time in tunnels these days," Haskeer observed.

The tunnel proved as ill-lit as they expected, and damp ran freely on the walls; a reminder that they were passing under the moat.

They came to another door.

"Beyond that, you're in the castle proper," the old menial explained. "That's when your map comes into play. Take this." He thrust the lamp into Haskeer's hands. "My eyes are used to the gloom down here. Now go! The door's unlocked, we've seen to that. And good luck." He turned and shuffled off into the shadows.

They approached the door cautiously. On the other side was a corridor. It was unlit, but there were hangings and items of heavy wooden furniture against the walls, indicating that they'd moved from the world of servers to the served.

With Haskeer holding up the lamp, Stryke got out the map and laid it on an ornately carved half moon table. He'd already done his best to remember most of it, and what he saw confirmed his recollection.

"We should be here," he said, tapping a finger on the parchment. "Our quarry's high up. Five flights. So we need to go… that way." He pointed to the right.

The corridor was long and branched off in various places. But they kept straight on to the end and a twisting stone staircase.

"This is only for servants too," Stryke said, "and if we've been told right, they'll not be using it tonight."

"What about guards?" Coilla asked. "There have to be some."

"The map shows where the permanent ones are stationed. They're where you'd expect; the governor's private quarters and the like. We don't know about patrols."

"Which are likely to be random, right."

"So stay sharp."

They began to climb.

A few hundred steps took them to the first landing. Two doors were there, both firmly shut. They crept past them. The next floor was the same; closed doors, no sign of anyone. Things were different on the third. Here the landing opened directly on to a corridor. It was richly carpeted, and they caught glimpses of fine paintings as they stole by. The fourth level was again open, like the one below. On the fifth they found a door unlike any other. It was lavishly ornamented, too much so, though its decoration was old and beginning to fade.

"Remember," Stryke reminded them, "it's a sharp turn to the right then two passages down." He looked to Noskaa. "You're guarding this door. If we're not back soon, get out. Fast."

The grunt nodded.

"Now let's see if this door's unlocked," Stryke said, reaching for the handle.

"And if there's magic?" Coilla wanted to know.

"We trust our blades to better it." He turned the handle.

The door opened on to a corridor that spoke of the status of those who walked it. Brightly lit, it was sumptuously carpeted and exquisitely embellished.

"You won't need that," Stryke whispered, indicating Haskeer's lantern.

The sergeant gratefully dumped it on a nearby cushioned chair.

They took the right turn and padded along to the second corridor on their left.

"You're stationed here, Eldo," Stryke ordered, strengthening his line of escape. "Same as I said to Noskaa; if we're not back, or you think we're lost, get yourself out. Otherwise, if anybody comes near, drop 'em."

"Got it, Captain."

Stryke, Coilla and Haskeer entered the corridor. It was as handsome as the other, but there were no doors. Ahead of them, about as far as Haskeer could throw an enemy's leg, it turned sharply to the right.

When they got to the corner, Stryke whispered, "We think they'll be a couple of them. It'll have to be quick, and true."

Coilla nodded and plucked a throwing knife from her arm scabbard. She gave it to him and drew another for herself.

"Ready?" Stryke said.

She nodded.

"Now."

They swiftly rounded the corner. They were in a short corridor that stretched to a set of imposing double doors. Two sentries stood by them.

Coilla, the better thrower, was first to get a bead. She tossed her blade and brought down one of the guards cleanly. Stryke's throw hit home, but it wasn't fatal, his target catching the blade near his shoulder. Coilla quickly grabbed a second knife, lobbed it and finished the job.

"Thanks," Stryke mouthed.

Joined by Haskeer, they moved towards the doors. About halfway there, they noticed an opening on their right, which turned out to be a passageway. Its entrance was askew, the right side protruding further than the left, so that it was hard to make out until almost on it.

"Shit," Coilla hissed, "that wasn't on the map."

As she spoke, the sound of muffled boots came to them. Before they could react, a guards patrol came out of the hidden passage. They looked as surprised to see the orcs as the orcs were to see them. But the spell was not long breaking.

The guards charged. The trio met them, steel on steel.

"We'll handle this!" Coilla yelled. "Go! Go! "

Stryke dodged a swinging blade and sprinted for the double doors. He struck them at speed and they flew inward, nearly putting him on the floor of the room he tumbled into. Then by some agency the doors slammed shut behind him. He spun, gripped the handles and pulled, but they wouldn't be moved.

Jennesta's suite was extensive and opulently appointed. It also seemed empty. There was a grand bed, draped in sheerest silks and dotted with gold-tasselled cushions. But there was no sign of anyone having used it.

Stryke was about to try one of the two doors in the room when the nearest opened.

Kapple Hacher strode in.

"I don't think we've met," he stated evenly.

"I know who you are," Stryke said.

"Then perhaps you also know that no one enters this citadel uninvited. Not if they want to live."

"My business isn't with you, and you won't stop me."

"We'll see."

"Just you, is it? No platoon of troopers to back you up?"

"You're not worthy of it. Besides, I need no help dealing with your kind."

"Bigot."

" Liberator, if you don't mind. We invaded this land to stop them using weapons of magical destruction against us."

"That's bull. Orcs don't have a way with magic. Where were they, these weapons?"

"We haven't actually found any yet, but — "

"Lies. A ploy to invade. And who the hell were you liberating?"

"Those many orcs who wanted to avoid the consequences of their masters using their hidden magic against us. You could say we were invited, in an unspoken kind of way."

"You can't believe that. You've seen the orcs here. They're placid. They'd never have threatened you."

"Not all your kind are placid, it seems. Are you not from here?"

"You're right. Not all orcs are placid, not at heart. They're aggressive, tough. Warriors far greater than humans."

Hacher laughed scornfully. "Not on the evidence I've seen. And a few freaks of nature like you won't change it."

"So why waste words?"

"Why indeed?" Hacher drew his sword.

Stryke pulled free his own and they set to.

For Hacher, old enough and high ranking enough to have been taught in a classical style, fighting was fencing. To him, a scrap was a duel. As far as Stryke was concerned, a scrap was a scrap.

It came down to undoubted skill and stylishness versus seasoned brute determination.

Hacher fenced, Stryke hacked. Hacher blocked passes with dexterity and put together complex attacks. Stryke battered away and thought only of skewering his opponent's lungs.

In the end an orc's fury and stamina proved the better. Bludgeoning the general's defences, he found a breach and sent his blade through it. The sword pierced Hacher between breastbone and shoulder. It wasn't a deep wound, but enough to offset him and he fell, losing his sword.

Stryke moved in to finish the task. Then stopped.

A presence had entered the room. Somebody who didn't have to speak to command attention. He turned from Hacher and stared.

Jennesta was dressed in black, with leather playing a major part in her ensemble. She wore a choker bristling with glinting spikes, and smaller versions on her wrists. There was something unnameable and almost palpable about her. It was a kind of allure, mixed with equal parts of revulsion. She exuded a power, and there was very little light in it.

Stryke couldn't quite stem a feeling of awe. He had a hint, deep down, of an emotion orcs found alien. Fear.

"It's been a long time," she said, her tone surprisingly mild.

"Yes," he said, tritely and feeling like a hatchling.

"You know, you should really bow to me. After all, technically you're still in my service. I never released you from it."

"We don't bow and scrape since we took our freedom."

"That wasn't all you took, was it?"

Stryke stopped himself from sending a hand to the pouch he carried the stars in. He said nothing.

"But we're going to put that right at last," she told him. "We're going to — "

Hacher groaned.

She swung her head to him, furious. "Oh get out, you useless wretch. Go and have that seen to. Though why I don't let you bleed to death…"

"Will you be safe with him?" Hacher asked.

"You certainly weren't! There's nothing here that's beyond me. Now get out! "

The general climbed to his feet and limped to the door, a hand pressed against his bleeding wound.

When he left she refocused on Stryke. "Where were we? Oh, yes, the instrumentalities." Her face screwed with wrath. "They were rightly mine. I searched years for them and you've added years more. That's not something I tolerate."

"They're not for the taking," Stryke informed her.

"Oh yes they are. The taking, and a lingering death as reward for your insolence."

"Then you won't mind a condemned orc's last request. How did you escape? After you — "

"After my dear father consigned me to the vortex, you mean, in the hope that I'd be torn to pieces? No, I won't. I don't grant wishes. You can die wondering."

"And you've climbed high in the world of humans. I'd like to know how."

"Humans are scum. I've nothing but contempt for them. They're just a means. How I rose among them is something else I won't trouble you with. But it was absurdly easy, I'll say that."

"Ever the conniver."

"Realist." Unexpectedly, her tone became even, almost conversational. "You know, it's a pity things worked out as they did. You were a good slave once. I might have given you a high position in my service. And when I think about it, we do have something in common, don't we?"

"What in hell could that be?"

"No home. No realm in my case," she added bitterly. "Neither of us has roots, somewhere we can have allegiance to. But at least you have your own kind. There aren't many like me."

"I believe it. What are you saying, Jennesta?" He felt a little flip in his stomach for using a term other than "Your Majesty." "That you want me back in your service?"

"Gracious, no. I was just dangling something you couldn't have in front of you. No reprieves."

Stryke lunged at her, bringing up his sword. She quickly moved her hands in some unfathomable way.

He froze. Try as he might, not all his strength could make him move. He stood like a statue, sword outstretched, body tensed for the thrust.

She laughed at him. Then she called out in some guttural, arcane tongue. Half a minute later two of her lumbering zombies shambled in.

"You know what to do," she told them without bothering to look their way.

They shuffled to Stryke and began pawing at his clothes. Their soft, bony fingers probed his pockets. Yellow skeletal hands searched for his belt pouches. This close, the foul smell of the creatures was overpowering. But Stryke was powerless to shift, no matter how hard he struggled.

Inevitably one of the goons found the pouch of stars. When he upended it and they tumbled to the carpet, Jennesta's face lit up with an awful fire. She rushed to the spot, clouting aside the zombie who tipped the bag, as though in penalty for his disrespect. Kneeling, she took up the stars with reverence. If she was disappointed at finding only four, she didn't show it. Which some small part of Stryke's writhing mind found strange.

"These will give me a power you can't imagine," she boasted, flaunting the stars at Stryke. "I won't have a mere realm. I'll have realms. The dominance of not one but many worlds. And it starts with an orc army as obedient as these two." Jennesta nodded at the undead. "Pity you won't see it." She lifted a hand.

The double doors crashed open. Haskeer charged in, carrying a wooden bench, which he casually tossed to the floor. Coilla was right behind him, sword and dagger in hand.

The intrusion threw Jennesta, and for an instant her attention wandered, breaking whatever hold she had on Stryke. Freed, he carried through with the suspended thrust, no matter that Jennesta was no longer in front of him, and almost fell. Shaking himself, he made ready to strike again.

Coilla got there first. As Stryke thawed she sent a knife Jennesta's way. It struck her, hilt first, on the temple. The sorceress cried out, part in pain, mostly in fury. There was something like blood on her forehead, had it been blood's colour. Drawing back from what may well have been the only physical blow she had ever received, Jennesta called out in the secret tongue.

The pair of zombies immediately became animated. Moving surprisingly fast, they obeyed their mistress and attacked. Haskeer ran to meet them, straight off plunging his blade into the nearest one's chest. The tip erupted from the zombie's back, but in a plume of dust, not a surge of blood. Haskeer wrenched the sword free. The zombie, still standing, swayed for a second. Then he carried on as though nothing had happened. Haskeer tried again, and this time his sword went well into the belly. The zombie hardly broke step.

"We can't kill 'em!" Haskeer roared.

"Depends how you do it!" Coilla shouted back. Rushing at the next goon she gave a swipe that completely severed his arm. The limb fell uselessly to the floor, the zombie kept coming.

"Chop 'em into bits?" Haskeer queried.

He didn't get an answer. There was a commotion outside the wrecked double doors. Men shouting and running feet, heading their way.

More of a threat as far as Coilla was concerned, Jennesta seemed to have gathered herself, if the twisted expression she wore and the gestures she was making with her hands meant anything.

Coilla saw a route out. It was risky, and could have killed them as easily as staying here. But it was a chance. She grabbed Stryke and Haskeer's arms and drew them to her.

"Window!" she yelled.

"Huh?" Haskeer grunted.

" Window! " she repeated, pointing to the floor-to-ceiling framed glass doors at one end of the room.

Haskeer got it. "Right!"

They began to run as shouting guards spilled into the room. Stryke, between Coilla and Haskeer, and as much propelled by them as his own efforts, was still woozy. His head cleared instantly when he saw the windows rushing towards them.

He managed to yell, "She's got the sta — "

A cacophony of breaking glass and snapping wood drowned him out.

Then they were in silence. Falling. Seeing flashes of stars through cloud in the night sky. Followed by the tops of other buildings and the dark ground.

They landed in the moat quite close together, all things considered. The fall hurt them, but didn't irreparably harm them, though the water was cold and foul enough to instantly sober them. They swam to the edge and scrambled out. Eldo and Noskaa were waiting tensely nearby. All five melted into the night.

They left Jennesta playing with her toys.

"I can't believe you left it here!" Stryke grumbled as they were let into the current safe house, their clothes still wringing.

" I can't believe you took yours with you!" Coilla snapped back. "Talk about a lion's den."

"I thought carrying the stars was the best way of protecting them. I was wrong. But that doesn't excuse you putting yours at risk."

"Stryke, if I'd had it on me back there she could have got them all. I thought hiding it was the safest."

"And didn't tell me."

"You only would have got… the way you are about it now. You need never have known."

Moving into the house, they heard a commotion. Resistance orcs were hurrying to and fro, and there was a crowd in a side room.

"Oh, no," Coilla groaned.

"What?" Stryke said, alarm rising.

"Better find out." She headed for the crowded room, Stryke right behind her.

Elbowing in, they found Brelan, Chillder and Jup at the heart of it. They were staring at a small strongbox lying on the floor, its lid wrenched open.

"How did you fare?" Jup asked expectantly.

"We didn't," Coilla admitted.

There were groans and words of sympathy from the crowd, which was increasing.

"What's going on here?" Stryke said.

"Oh," Jup replied, "yes, it's strange, and disturbing."

"What happened?"

"It seems somebody broke in and cracked open this strong-box."

"Got in? In this place? With so many around and all the security?"

"There's signs. Stove-in window at the back. Lock broke on this door." He nodded to the entrance. "What we're trying to figure out is who the box belongs to."

"It's mine," Coilla said.

"Don't tell me," Stryke pleaded in an undertone.

Grim faced, she gave him a tiny nod.

"Yours?" Chillder said.

"I had it hidden behind that loose brick over there." Coilla indicated the spot where the brick had been discarded, next to its empty hollow.

"Whoever it was, found it," Brelan said. "But they don't seem to have taken anything else. Was there something valuable in it?"

She paused for a moment, then answered, "No, just some keepsakes. Junk mostly, but I was fond of it."

"Why should anybody steal junk?" Chillder asked, her gaze fixed on Coilla.

"More important," Brelan said, "is how? If somebody can get in here this easily our security needs beefing up. A lot."

"If it was somebody from outside," Stryke offered.

"What?"

"There's another possibility."

Brelan frowned as realisation dawned. "Not that again, Stryke. I've told you the loyalty of our group is — "

"I'm just saying it's possible. So would it hurt to check everybody here?"

" Search them? Even if that wasn't repugnant it can't be done. There's been a steady stream in and out today, and I would have thought a thief wouldn't linger. But search them, for what Coilla's says is junk? Get a grip, Stryke. Making this place secure comes first. So if you don't mind, I'd like to hear about tonight's failure, but — "

"It could have been treachery again," Stryke told him.

Brelan gave him a hard look and said, "You might dry yourselves," as he walked out.

The onlookers were largely silent now, and craned curiously. Stryke felt like he was in a zoo. He gathered Jup and, along with Coilla and Haskeer, went to find a quiet place. When they found it, round a table at the back of a noisy room, with a fire to steam their wet clothes, Stryke broke the news to Jup.

"Damn it, Stryke," the dwarf came back, "that's a blow."

"You must hate my guts, Stryke," Coilla said.

He shook his head. "No. I gave you the responsibility, and you acted as best you could. I'm the greater fool for handing her the stars on a plate."

"Do you think she's got the other one, my one?"

"Amazed if she hasn't."

"Jennesta with all five instrumentalities," Jup muttered. "Doesn't bear thinking on."

"And us stuck here," Haskeer put in.

"It's going to be fun telling the rest of the band," Coilla remarked.

"Oh, no," Haskeer moaned. "Does it mean we're stuck with those two humans?"

Standeven could be seen on the other side of the room, sitting alone and sipping something from a tumbler as more productive work went on around him.

"I'm getting the stars back," Stryke vowed darkly. "They're going to be back in our hands if it kills me."

"A good prospect with Jennesta," Jup reckoned.

"So we're fucked," Haskeer said.

"Oh, I don't know," Jup replied. "Look at it objectively. This is a fair land, nothing like Maras-Dantia. I don't know about Ceragan, but is that any better?"

"It isn't occupied by humans," Coilla informed him.

"That won't last. There's a revolution brewing, and we helped fire it. So there's prospect for fighting, seeing the orcs in these parts right, which is what we set out to do, and a comely home at the end of it. Could be worse."

Coilla smiled, not broadly. "Nice try. Though I wonder how you and Spurral would feel in a world of orcs."

"I'd be honoured."

She raised her cup of wine to toast him for the compliment. "Perhaps you're right and we'll have to make the best of it."

"We'll have the stars," Stryke promised. "I meant it when I said — "

" Sssshhh! " Coilla had her finger to her lips. She nodded towards the door. Chillder was hurrying their way.

"It's here!" she beamed. "Grilan-Zeat. The comet. It's arrived! Come and look!"

They got up and followed her. Everybody else in the room was heading for the doors.

Outside the farmhouse there was a silent, growing crowd of resistance members. All had their heads back, staring at the sky. Stryke and the others followed their gaze. They saw a light in the heavens. It was small, about the size of the smallest coin held out at arm's length, and had a misty, watery aspect. But it gave out light of a kind unlike anything else in the night sky, and it seemed somehow to have a purpose.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" Chillder said, sidling up to them. "Now my mother can issue her call to arms. Then we'll see what the orcs of Acurial are made of."

Stryke feared that might be the case.

"If they got this right," Haskeer announced, "maybe the heroes bit's true, too." He sounded hopeful.

Stryke spotted Wheam in the crowd, looking up enraptured. Dallog was nearby, and most of the recruits from Ceragan. Staring. Transfixed by the wonder and mystery of it. He knew orcs all over Taress, all over the land, would be seeing the same, and he wondered what they'd make of it.

"It'll grow!" Chillder promised. "The nearer it gets, the bigger."

Coilla had drifted apart from the others. She found a stretch of low wall and sat to watch the sky. She felt contrition for her carelessness, but strangely that wasn't the major thing on her mind. As she gazed at the comet and heard the droned conversations from the crowd, she realised how different this land was. Not in big ways, but in small differences that were enough to throw you off. She felt drained, and very tired.

Jup had spotted her sitting alone and, guessing she might need cheer, left Spurral and made for her.

He hauled himself up next to her, his feet not quite scraping the ground, and said, "It's not the end of the world, you know."

"No," Coilla said, "but you can almost see it from here."