Orcs: Bad Blood (32 page)

“What is it?” Coilla asked.

“Army camp. A small fort.”

“Where?”

“A bit beyond the city limits, to the west. Most of the likely targets here in Taress are better protected since our campaign
started, so we’re looking further afield.”

“What’s that wavy line next to it?”

“A river. Fast flowing. And here,” he tapped a point near the river’s end, “there’s a waterfall.”

“It might not be as secure as places here in the city,” Jup said, “but it’s still a fort. Won’t it be a tough nut?”

“Which is why we need to muster as big a force as we can.”

“So the Vixens will play their part,” Chillder explained, “and you too, Jup and Spurral, if you’re willing.”

The dwarfs nodded. “But what about us being seen?” Jup asked.

“The way we intend going about this, it won’t matter. Besides, we’ll keep you hidden until we’re out of the city.”

From the back of the room, Pepperdyne raised a hand. “What can we…” He glanced at Standeven, slumped beside him. “What can
I do?”

“Lend your sword arm,” Stryke told him. “But we can’t pull the uniform stunt again.”

“No,” Brelan confirmed, “they’ll be wise to that by now. Though what we have in mind doesn’t call for it. But there’s something
else you all need to know about the raid. It’ll be tomorrow.”

“That’s one hell of a short notice,” Coilla remarked. “Why so soon?”

“Two reasons. First, security. The longer between hatching a plan and carrying it out, the more chance it’ll leak.”

“You’ve got turncoats in your ranks?”

“
No
,” Brelan came back huffily. “But it’s a rare orc who won’t break in one of Peczan’s torture chambers.”

“What’s the second reason?” Stryke said.

“We’ve learnt there’s going to be a changing of the guard at the fort. The new contingent’s drawn from the reinforcements
we welcomed with the stampede, and they’re due to relieve the outgoing company today. Tomorrow’s their first full day in a
new camp. We’ll know the layout better than they do. It’s a good time to hit them.”

“Makes sense. But you still haven’t said how we’re going to get in there.”

Chillder smiled. “We have a way.”

“Think it’ll work?” Coilla said.

Stryke shrugged. “What do
you
think? You’re our mistress of strategy.”

“It’s a smart plan, but it’s complex. The more parts to a scheme, the more to go wrong.”

“What would you change?”

“I’d like us to have a good fallback. You know, a better escape route. Maybe more than one.”

“Any ideas on that?”

She nodded. “But it’d take a few fighters out of the front line, and mean some hard work for us overnight.”

“Sort out the details soon as you can. I’ll talk to Brelan about it.”

They were sitting on a weathered, low stone wall in a small inner courtyard of the house the resistance had commandeered.
It was one of the few places they were able to find a little privacy.

“Are you sure about Wheam?” Coilla said. “Him coming on the raid, I mean.”

“No, I’m not. But we need to make a good show of numbers. Brelan reckons they’ll be a couple of hundred humans in that fort.
We’ll be lucky to scrape together as many on our side. Besides, he’s never going to shape up if we don’t put him in the field.”

“Unsupervised?”

“I’ll get somebody to keep an eye on him.”

“And tie up a fighter.”

“Then I’ll put him in some support role.”

“Is it worth the risk?”

“Look, if Wheam gets himself killed… well, too bad.”

“You mean that? Despite what his father said?”

“Fuck it, Coilla, I won’t be cowed by threats from Quoll or anybody else. I thought we got away from all that shit when we
left Maras-Dantia. If Quoll ends up with a beef we can settle it with blades. Nobody stops me getting back to Thirzarr and
the hatchlings.”

“I’d go along with that. But you’re being too hard on Wheam. It’s not his fault he’s in this fix.”

“Maybe.” He sighed. “Guess I’m feeling a bit snappy.”

“Reason?”

“I didn’t think things would be this knotty. I want to cut through it all and get to Jennesta.”

“You’re not alone in that, Stryke. We all want it. But meantime we can help some fellow orcs. That’s not bad, is it?”

“Suppose not.”

“Tell me something. You’ve been uneasy about Pepperdyne, but now he’s in on this raid. Why?”

“I could say I prefer to have him where I can see him. Truth is, I’m not sure about him. But we need his skills, so…”

“I think you can trust him.”

“So you keep saying. I reckon you’re a bit partial there.”

“’Cos he’s saved my life a couple of times? You bet I am.”

“Don’t forget he’s a human, Coilla. Blood will out.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t judge others the way we’ve been judged.”

“And maybe some
should
be. Or would you prefer trying to reason with Peczan’s army?”

She smiled. “Looking out for tyros and humans you don’t trust. You’re going to have your hands full tomorrow.”

Several hours later, with most resistance members away preparing for the morrow and the shadows lengthening, a human furtively
approached the safe house. Despite the clement weather he was bundled in a cloak, and wore an expansive hat with its brim
pulled well down to hide his features. Looking to the right and left, he pushed open the door and slipped inside.

There was a room close by the entrance, its door half open. As the intruder crept past, Pepperdyne leapt out of it. They crashed
into the opposite wall and a struggle ensued. The man’s hat was ripped from his head.

“You!” Pepperdyne exclaimed.

“Take your hands
off
me!” Standeven demanded.

“In here!” Pepperdyne growled, dragging his master into the empty room. Ignoring his protests, he flung him into a chair.
“You’re lucky I happened to be the one on guard duty. Where the
hell
have you been?”

“I have to account to you for my movements now, do I?”

“You do when you disappear for hours on end without a word. What’s going on?”

Standeven dusted himself off with an exaggerated gesture. “I had to get out.”

“What, for a stroll?”

“You’ve seen something of this place. I’ve only been shunted from one stinking hideout to another.”

“My outings haven’t exactly been pleasure trips.”

“That’s your choice. I needed air, and the sight of other faces. I wanted to get away from these creatures you’re so fond
of.”

“So you took a walk in a city full of them.”

“
Yes
. And how might that imperil this sordid little enterprise?”

“You fool. What if you’d been picked up by the authorities?”

“They’re only interested in orc insurgents. Humans have privileges in this place, I saw that much.”

“They know a human’s
working
with them!”

“So you can have free run of the outside but I can’t. You’re not my jailer.”

“It seems you need one.”

“If we ever get back home, I’ll…”

“You still haven’t got it through your head, have you? Things are different here. They’re different between you and me.”

“Which might not last forever.”

“You wish.”

“And in the event of things going back to the way they were, your fortunes are going to depend on how you behave now. You’d
do well to keep that in mind.”

“I’m doing my best to keep us alive. Isn’t that enough?”

Standeven adopted a conciliatory tone. “And I appreciate it, Jode. I really do.”

“You’ve a strange way of showing it. How do I know what you were up to out there?”

“Wouldn’t I be stupid to do anything that might jeopardise my own safety? My wellbeing’s tied to this ragtag bunch of rebels,
same as you.” He spread his hands and added reasonably, “I’ve nowhere else to go.”

“You know the thing about you, Standeven? I can never be quite sure if you’re a knave or an idiot.”

“On this occasion, probably the latter. I was foolhardy. I’m sorry.”

Pepperdyne considered his master’s words, and said, “If you ever do anything like this again…”

“I won’t. I give you my word. Now forget my stupidity and save your anger for tomorrow.”

Pepperdyne expelled a breath and relaxed a little. “Yeah, tomorrow. It’s going to be an interesting day.”

“I’m sure of it,” Standeven agreed.

The fort was old. It was built in times long forgotten as part of Acurial’s border defences. The pacifistic orcs of the present
epoch had allowed it to fall into neglect, and its restoration was undertaken by the human invaders.

It stood on the edge of a rock-face, some thirty to forty feet high, and looked out over an expanse of open land that ran
to the distant sea. Below the fort, nestling at the foot of the cliff, was a line of wooden buildings. They were of much more
recent vintage, having been erected by orcs of the current era to store grain from nearby farms and to over-winter their cattle.
With the coming of the humans these buildings were abandoned and left to rot.

The opposite side of the fort, where its entrance was situated, faced a grassy plain that stretched to the city of Taress.
Not that the city could be seen. Even if it hadn’t been too far away, a semicircle of squat hills obscured the view, and set
the fort in a depression. As a result, the road that ran to its gates was on a slight incline. To the south-west, also hidden,
a major river flowed.

A force of orcs, some ninety strong, had approached covertly, and now concealed themselves behind the hill crests. They brought
three wagons, the horses’ hooves muffled with sacking. The orcs took care to mask their advance. Patrols had been ambushed
and lookouts purged.

Brelan commanded the force. Haskeer, Dallog and Pepperdyne were part of it, along with Wheam. Roughly half the Wolverines
were present, and resistance members made up the rest.

Peeking over the ridge, Brelan surveyed the fort. It was constructed of stone. There were two towers, and sentries toured
the battlements. But there was no moat or portcullis. The road swept straight down to its wooden gates, which were not unlike
barn doors, albeit taller and sturdier.

Brelan pulled back and ordered the wagons to be brought up almost to the peak of the hill, where they were still out of sight.
The horses were unhitched and quietly led away, and the wagons’ shafts were removed. Each wagon carried a stout tree trunk
with its fore-end iron-capped. These were hauled forward and securely lashed in place, so that the points jutted from the
front.

The wagons had a central lever installed at the driver’s end which connected to chains attached to the front axle.

Pepperdyne studied the arrangement. “Clever. But how much control does the lever give?”

“Not a lot,” Brelan admitted. “Just enough to steer it a little to the left or right, though it takes some strength to do
even that. Which is why we’ll have two pairs of hands on each.”

“How about braking?”

“There’s only the wagon’s brake. But we’re not sure that’d work, given the weight we’ll be shifting. We’re relying on the
things stopping of their own accord, once the gates and level ground slow them.”

“Bit iffy, isn’t it?”

“It’s the best we could do.”

Pepperdyne turned and saw Wheam standing nearby. His lips were silently moving and he wore a look of intense concentration.
“All right, Wheam?”

The youngster nodded, and said out loud, “One hundred and four, one hundred and five, one hundred and six…”

“You’re doing fine,” Pepperdyne told him. “Keep it up.”

“One hundred and seven, one hundred and eight, one hundred and nine…”

“Good,” Stryke said. “Try to keep to that pace.”

Spurral gave him a thumbs up and continued counting under her breath.

They were part of a group, numbering about fifty, cautiously edging their way along the base of the cliff below the fort.

Stryke led them. Spurral, Jup, Coilla and Chillder were acting as his lieutenants. The remainder of the group comprised the
balance of the Wolverines, all of the Vixens, and a contingent from the resistance.

They pressed as close to the cliff face as possible, sheltering beneath a narrow overhang to avoid being seen. Their path
took them to the first of the derelict buildings.

“We need the third one,” Chillder reminded him in a whisper.

Stryke nodded.

He didn’t want to take the risk of breaking cover and approaching the building they wanted head-on. So he beckoned a couple
of grunts and they set to carefully prising off rotting planks on the side of the first building. When a big enough gap was
opened, Stryke began shepherding the group through.

The interior stank of mould, and the floor was strewn with rubble. Just enough light lanced through cracks in the building’s
fabric for them to see. Stumbling across to the opposite wall, they repeated the process, levering planks off with dagger
blades.

Fortunately the buildings abutted each other, which meant no open space between them where the orcs might have been spotted.
They had to get through two sets of planks, but they were so decayed it didn’t present a problem.

The second building was very much like the first. Except that a mass of fallen timbers blocked the far wall and had to be
cleared.

“How we doing, Spurral?” Stryke asked.

“Four hundred and seventy-nine, four hundred and eighty…”

“Right.
Move it
,” he urged the others. “Time’s running out.”

They got the timbers shifted and attacked the final wall. It was in the same state as the others and they were soon through.

The third building was the biggest so far, with barn-like dimensions and a high roof.

“This way,” Chillder said, heading for the rear.

Stryke ordered hooded lamps to be lit and they saw heaps of debris and wood stacked against the back wall.

“Here,” Chillder instructed.

They all piled into moving the obstructions and made short work of it. What was revealed was the bare cliff face. But when
the lanterns were held close the light showed a large semi-circular area that wasn’t the same colour as the rock.