Orcs: Bad Blood (17 page)

“Is it always like this in the band?” Spurral asked.

“Just about,” Coilla replied.

“Particularly when Haskeer’s got a wasp up his backside about something,” Jup added.

“I don’t want to tackle those two mob-handed and make this look like a grilling,” Stryke decided. “They’re bound to clam up.”

“We could beat it out of ’em,” Jup suggested, half seriously.

“I will if I have to. But they get a chance to talk first. We owe them that much for the warning, and for aiding Coilla. So
help out with the band, Jup. And stay away from Haskeer. Hear me?”

Jup nodded and left. Spurral went with him.

“What about me?” Coilla said.

“We’ll see the humans together. You get on with them.”

“
Whoa
. I don’t count humans as friends.”

He turned without answering and headed along the riverbank. She followed.

The band was recovering. Those who didn’t have a chance earlier were cleaning the gore from their blades. Others were having
wounds tended. Haskeer was working off his temper by barking orders.

They found the two men by the water’s edge. Pepperdyne stood looking down at Standeven, who sat on the grass, clutching his
knees to his chest. He was sweaty and trembling.

“What’s the matter with him?” Stryke said.

“You might have noticed that getting here was quite a ride,” Pepperdyne replied.

“You seem all right.”

He shrugged. “Where the hell are we?”

“We’re asking the questions. Who are you?”

“Like I said. I’m Jode Pepperdyne and —”

“I mean
what
are you.”

“Merchants,” Standeven said, a little too quickly. He glanced up at them and shuddered. “That was hellish. I never believed
them. I never thought it was true.”

“What you talking about?”

“Those… objects that got us here.”

“So you knew about them? Before you came to us, I mean.”

The pair of humans exchanged the briefest of glances.

It was Pepperdyne who answered. “There’ve been rumours about instrumentalities for as long as I can remember.”

“We knew no such stories,” Stryke said. “Not until recently.”

“You hear all sorts of tales in our business. Including things outsiders aren’t privy to.”

“You say you’re merchants.”

“Yes,” Standeven replied. “That is, I am. He’s my aide.”

“He fights pretty well for a merchant’s lackey,” Coilla remarked.

“His duties include guarding me. You attract the attention of brigands in our line of work.”

She addressed Pepperdyne directly. “You didn’t pick up your skills from traders.”

“I’ve been around,” he told her.

“Military service?”

“Some.”

“You Manis?” Stryke wanted to know.

Standeven looked surprised. “What?”

“You tipped us off about them Unis.”

“No, we’re not. Not all humans support religious factions. Besides, we’re not from Centrasia. Things are different in our
part of the world.”

Coilla bridled. “It’s called
Maras-Dantia
. Centrasia’s the name foisted on us by you outsiders.”

Pepperdyne spoke for his flustered master. “Sorry,” he offered.

“I don’t get it,” Stryke said, frowning. “You’re not Manis, yet you helped us against other humans. Why?”

“You’re after something, aren’t you?” Coilla added.

“Yes,” Pepperdyne admitted.

Standeven looked shocked, and opened his mouth to speak.

Pepperdyne got in first. “We need your help.”

Stryke stared hard at him. “Explain.”

“We didn’t warn you because those Unis were our enemies. We warned you because of someone who is. Your enemy and ours.”

“That’s clear as mud.”

“The sorcerer queen,” Pepperdyne said. “Jennesta.”

A cold chill took hold of Stryke’s spine, and he knew Coilla felt the same way. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“She owes us. And we heard she’s in debt to you too, in a manner of speaking.”

“What do you know about Jennesta? Be plain, or this ends here and now. The hard way.” Stryke’s expression left no doubt as
to what he meant.

“My employer here lost a valuable consignment. It turned out to be her doing.”

“What was it?”

“Gems. Along with not a few good men. Including some of my master’s kin.”

“This happened where?”

“On the edge of the wastelands. That’s what we call it anyway. The wilderness separating the wider world from Cen —. . . from
Maras-Dantia.”

“So you went to Maras-Dantia yourselves.”

“To seek recompense, yes.”

Coilla was sceptical. “Just the two of you? And only one with the guts for a fight?” She glanced at Standeven.

“We weren’t alone. We had a group of fighters with us. But when we got here…
there
, rather, we found the place in chaos. Unis ambushed us and most of our men were killed. Some of us were caught and held for
a while. That’s how we knew about the attack, and where we learnt your story.”

“The Unis told you about us?”

“Yes. Didn’t you know the Wolverines are a legend in those parts? Anyway, we escaped and —”

“How?” Stryke said.

Pepperdyne shrugged glibly. “Nothing very heroic. They were more interested in attacking you and the dwarfs. We were lightly
guarded.”

“And you thought that by helping us…”

“We hoped you’d aid us in exacting revenge on Jennesta.”

“Jennesta’s thought dead. Didn’t the Unis tell you that?”

“They said she hadn’t been seen for quite a while. That’s not the same, is it? Unless you know different.”

Stryke and Coilla stayed tight-lipped.

“So you reckoned we’d be so grateful that we’d join your little mission,” Stryke summed up.

“Something like that.”

“And if gratitude wasn’t enough?”

“A reward, maybe. If the gems were recovered, my master would be willing to share them with you.”

“We kill what we eat and take what we need. We’ve no use for riches.”

“Where does that leave us?” Standeven asked uneasily.

“Where you’re not wanted.”

“What do you intend doing?” Pepperdyne said.

“I’ll think on it,” Stryke replied. “Stay out of the band’s way. I’ll deal with you later.”

He turned on his heel and strode away, Coilla in tow.

When they were out of earshot, she remarked wryly, “So, how does it feel to be a legend?”

“Did you believe any of that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Sounded like horse shit to me.”

“Notice how the servant had more to say than the master? That’s the most I’ve ever heard him say.”

“Perhaps he’s the better liar. And I think it was a slip when they said they knew about the stars. We didn’t ourselves until
a few years ago.”

“There might be no mystery in that. We lived closed-off lives when we were in the horde. A lot was kept from us.”

“That didn’t stop us picking up hearsay. I don’t buy it. And why would Jennesta hijack shipments of jewels? She had whatever
she wanted nearer to home.”

“I don’t know; I wouldn’t put anything past her. But, Stryke… I owe Pepperdyne. I might not be here if he hadn’ t —”

“I know. And they did warn us about the attack, whatever their motive. That’s why I didn’t just have their throats cut and
done with it.”

“Would you?”

“If I thought they were set on betrayal, sure I would.”

“But they
could
be telling the truth. What do we do about them?”

“Dump ’em as soon as we can.”

They came to where Dallog had planted the band’s standard. It fluttered feebly in the light wind. The corporal was busying
himself with the wounded, though he still seemed queasy after the transference.

Wheam looked a lot worse. He lay on his side, presumably to avoid putting weight on his earlier injury. Propped on one elbow,
he stared into a wooden bowl he’d been filling.

Dallog rose when he saw Stryke and Coilla.

He indicated the landscape with a sweep of his hand and said, “You know, this could be Ceragan.”

“We’ve done that,” Coilla informed him.

Pepperdyne and Standeven watched Coilla and Stryke go.

When they were far enough away, Standeven’s expression hardened. “What were you hoping to achieve with that bullshit you just
fed them?”

“Only saving our lives, that’s all. And giving them a reason for letting us stick around.”

“But shipments of gems? And this Jennesta woman, who we’ve only heard about in tall tales? You’re digging us in deeper here.”

“They can’t disprove any of it.”

“The thing about lies is that you have to build other lies to support them. Believe me, I know.”

“As you’re such an expert on the subject it shouldn’t be too hard for you to keep up, should it?”

“Tall tales need to be thought through. They have to be plausible. When we overheard those Unis planning the attack, when
we hid there listening, we should have formulated a plan. A watertight lie.”

“We didn’t have the time; we had to grab the opportunity. We knew these orcs were rumoured to have the instrumentalities.
Now we’re sure.”

“Oh, yes, we’re sure now,” Standeven replied, the trauma of the crossing etched on his face. “But what good does it do us?”

“Do you want those artefacts or not?”

“Do I need them now?”

Pepperdyne gave an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been slavering at the prospect of getting your hands on them! If you’ve bent
my ears once about their value, you’ve done it a hundred times.”

“Watch your tongue!” Standeven retorted, haughtily puffing himself up. “Remember who’s master here.”

“Or you’ll do what? Circumstances have changed. It’s about survival now.”

Standeven seethed, but didn’t push the issue.

“I’ll tell you why you need the instrumentalities,” Pepperdyne said. “Kantor Hammrik. He’ll never give up until he’s found
you, and they’re the only thing you can barter with.”

“How could he find us here?”

“I intend getting back. Don’t you? And it’s my neck as well as yours.”

“I still don’t think —”

“I can’t fight our way out of this like I did with Hammrik’s escort. It’d be insane to square up to an orc warband. We have
to use stealth, and bide our time. Or do you have a better idea?”

If Standeven had an answer there was no chance to give it. A clamour broke out further along the riverbank, where most of
the band was concentrated. Two of the scouts were back, and they had someone with them.

“Let’s see what’s happening,” Pepperdyne said.

Standeven held out a hand. Pepperdyne hoisted him to his feet.

As they approached, they saw that the scouts had brought back another orc. He looked mature, perhaps old, as far as the humans
could tell. His garb consisted of a sleeveless lambskin jerkin, baggy cloth trews and stout leather ankle boots. He was nearly
as tall as the wooden crook he carried, which he used to help him walk.

They took him to Stryke. The prisoner’s anxious eyes darted from face to face as the band gathered round.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Stryke assured him. “Understand?”

The shepherd nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“Yelbra.” He spoke hesitantly.

“Are you alone out here?”

He nodded again.

“We didn’t see anybody else,” one of the scouts confirmed.

“Where’s the nearest town, Yelbra?” Stryke asked.

The shepherd ignored him. He was staring at Jup and Spurral. “What are…
they
?” he exclaimed, pointing at them.

“You’ve not seen dwarfs before?”

He shook his head, much more vigorously than he’d nodded.

“They’re with us. Don’t worry about them, they won’t harm you. The nearest town?”

“You don’t know?” he said, his confusion mounting.

“We wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” Haskeer rumbled.

“It’ s —” His attention had shifted again, and his eyes widened. He let out something between a gasp and a groan.

The cause of his alarm was Standeven and Pepperdyne, who were pushing their way through the crowd.

Visibly shaking, Yelbra sank to his arthritic knees and uttered, “
Masters
.” His manner was one of complete obeisance.

“What the
fuck’s
going on?” Haskeer wanted to know.

The shepherd gazed up at him with something close to terror distorting his features. “
Get down
,” he hissed. “Show respect!”

“To
them?
” Haskeer sneered. “
Humans?
They can kiss my scaly arse!”

Yelbra seemed profoundly shocked. His mouth hung open and all trace of colour left his face.

“Since when did orcs prostrate themselves in front of humans?” Coilla said.

The shepherd looked as though the question made no sense to him.

“Serapheim said humans had the upper hand here,” Stryke reflected. “Seems he was right. Get up,” he told Yelbra.

He stayed where he was, eyes fixed on Pepperdyne and Standeven.

Stryke nodded at the scouts. They heaved the shepherd to a standing position. He clutched his crook as if it was all that
kept him upright.

“I’m asking the questions,” Stryke reminded him in a harsher tone, “not them. What’s the name of this land?”

Still he remained under the spell of the humans, staring their way and trembling. He said nothing.

Stryke beckoned Pepperdyne. “Here.”

The human hesitated for a second, then came forward.

“You ask him,” Stryke said.

“Me?”

“He’s more in thrall of you two than us. Do it.”

A little awkwardly, Pepperdyne cleared his throat. “Er, Yelbra. What’s this land called?”

Even with his head bent to avoid Pepperdyne’s gaze, it was apparent he was taken aback at them not knowing. “If it pleases
you, master; Acurial.”

“It does please me. But I’m not your master. Do you hear me?”

The shepherd shot him a glance suffused with bewilderment, and a hint of what might have been pity for someone self-evidently
insane. “Yes, mas — Yes, I hear you.”

“Good. What’s the name of the nearest settlement?”

“Taress.”

“And there are orcs there?”