Orcs (30 page)

“Are you their friends?” she asked, sniffily.

“Not now!” he snapped, irritated at the interruption.

The girl backed off, frightened, and ran for her mother’s protection. Lekmann’s reaction made the woman even warier. A look of defiance came to her face. The other Manis were stiffening with tension too, but he saw little to worry about there and paid them no heed.

He dropped the friendly manner. “You know where these orcs went?”

“How should I?”

Now she’d got her back up. That was a shame.

“Anyway, why do you want to find them?” she added.

“It’s to do with some unfinished business.”

“You sure you aren’t Unis?”

He grinned like a latrine rat. “We’re not Unis, that’s for sure.”

Aulay and Blaan laughed. Unpleasantly.

The woman was growing alarmed. “Who
are
you?”

“Just travellers who want to be on our way once we’ve got some information.” He looked around slyly. “Maybe your menfolk would know where the orcs went?”

“They’re . . . they’re out hunting for food.”

“Don’t think they are, ma’am. I don’t think you’ve got any menfolk.” He glanced at her companions. “At least none young and fit. One or two would have stayed with you if you had.”

“They’re nearby, and they’ll be back any time now.” A note of desperation crept into her voice. “If you don’t want trouble —”

“You’re a bad liar, ma’am.” He stared pointedly at the child. “Now let’s keep this nice and friendly, shall we? Where did those orcs go?”

She saw what was in his eyes and visibly gave up. “All right. They did mention something about heading for Scratch.”

“The trolls’ place? Now why would they be doing that?”

“How should I know?”

“It don’t add up. You sure they didn’t tell you anything else?”

“No, they didn’t.” The child tugged at her skirt and started to cry. “It’s all right, darling,” the woman soothed. “Everything’s fine.”

“Don’t believe you’re telling me all you know,” Lekmann said menacingly. “Maybe they ain’t even heading for Scratch at all.”

“I’ve told you all I know. There’s no more.”

“Well, ma’am, you’ll appreciate I have to be sure of that.”

He nodded at Blaan and Aulay. The three of them moved forward, fanning out.

By the time they left, he knew she had been telling the truth.

The way Stryke saw it, circumstances dictated a straightforward plan.

“We’ve got just one chance, and I say we have no choice but a direct assault. We go in, do the job, get out.”

“That sounds fair enough,” Coilla said. “But think about the difficulties. First, going in. The only possible way we’ve found is that shaft in the cave. It might not lead into the trolls’ labyrinth. Or even if it does, it could be incredibly deep.”

“We’ve got plenty of rope. If we need more we can find some vines and make it.”

“All right. Then you say we’ll do the job. A lot easier said than done, Stryke. We don’t know how many miles of tunnels there are down there. If they have a star, which is only a maybe at best, we have to find the thing. Don’t forget that for all we know, it’s going to be pitch black down there. The trolls have eyesight that copes with the dark. We don’t.”

“We’ll take torches.”

“And really make ourselves obvious. We’ll be on their ground and at a disadvantage.”

“Not as far as our blades go, we won’t.”

“Finally, getting out,” she ploughed on. “Well, that speaks for itself, doesn’t it? You’re assuming we could.”

“We’ve taken on long odds before, Coilla. I’m not going to let that stand in my way.”

She gave a resigned sigh. “You’re not, are you? You’re determined to go through with this.”

“You know I am. But I’ll not take any with me who don’t want to go.”

“That’s not the point. It’s
how
we do it that concerns me. Just charging in isn’t always the solution, you know.”

“Sometimes it is. Unless you can see a better way.”

“That’s just it, damn you, I can’t.”

“I know you’re worried there’s so much that could go wrong. So am I. So we’ll take a little time getting this right.”

“Not too much,” Alfray interjected. “What about Hobrow?”

“We bloodied his nose. I don’t think he’ll be here for a while yet, if at all.”

“It isn’t only Hobrow. For all we know, everybody’s out for us. And moving targets are the hardest to hit.”

“Granted. But targets that hit back tend to get left alone too.”

“Not when the whole damn country’s after their heads.”

“What did you mean about taking time, Stryke?” Coilla asked. “How much?”

He glanced up at the gathering twilight. “The light’s nearly gone. We could spend tomorrow searching for another way in. A really thorough search, with the area sectioned out. If we find a better way in, we’ll use it. Otherwise we’ll go for the entrance we know.”

“Or what we think is an entrance,” Coilla corrected him.

“Stryke, I don’t want to put a damper on things,” Jup said, “but
if
there’s a star here and
if
we can get it . . . what then?”

“I was hoping nobody would ask that question.”

Alfray backed Jup. “It has to be asked, Stryke. Else why go on here?”

“We go on because . . . well, because what else is there for us to do? We’re orcs. We need a purpose. You know that.”

“If we carry on as we have, if we’re being logical, and assuming we get out of Scratch in one piece, then we need a plan to find out where the other stars are,” Coilla reckoned.

“We’ve been lucky so far,” Jup said. “It won’t hold forever.”

“We make our own luck,” Stryke maintained.

Coilla had an idea. “I was thinking that if trading the star, or stars, with Jennesta is out —”

“Which it is,” Stryke interrupted, “as far as I’m concerned.”

“If that’s not an option, perhaps we could trade them with somebody else.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know! I’m clutching at straws here, Stryke, like the rest of you. I’m just thinking that if we can’t find all five stars then the others aren’t of any use to us. Whereas a good hoard of coin might make our lives easier.”

“The stars mean power. A power that could maybe do a lot of good for orcs and all the other elder races. I won’t let that go easily. As for coin, you’re forgetting the pellucid. Even a small amount would bring a good price.”

“What about the crystal, by the way?” Alfray asked. “Have you thought of how it should be distributed?”

“I reckon that for now we keep it as communal property, for the benefit of the band in general. Any of you object?”

None did.

Haskeer, who had been standing at a distance and taking no part in the conversation, wandered over to them. He wore the vacant expression they’d almost got used to.

“What’s happening?” he said.

“We’re talking about how to get into Scratch,” Coilla told him.

Haskeer’s face lit up as a notion hit him. “Why don’t we talk to the trolls?”

They laughed. Then it dawned on them that he wasn’t trying to be funny.

“What do you mean, talk?” Alfray said.

“Think how much better things would be if the trolls were our friends.”

Alfray’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Well, they could be, couldn’t they? All our enemies could if we talked rather than fought them all the time.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this, Haskeer,” Coilla confessed.

“Does it seem wrong?”

“Er, it just seems not . . .
you
.”

He considered the proposition. “Oh. All right. Let’s kill them then.”

“That’s kind of what we thought we’d do, if we have to.”

Haskeer beamed. “Good. Let me know when you need me. I’ll be feeding my horse.”

He turned and walked away.

Jup said, “What the
hell?
”

Coilla shook her head. “He’s seriously dippy these days.”

“Do you still say it’s something he’ll get over, Alfray?” Stryke asked.

“He’s taking his time about it, I’ll admit. But I’ve seen something similar to this before when troopers were recovering from heavy fevers. Or when they get ague of the lungs; you know, water in ’em. Quite often they spend days afterwards in a sort of daze, and it’s not unknown for them to behave out of character.”

“Out of character!” Coilla exclaimed. “He’s about as far from his character as he can get.”

“I don’t know whether to be worried or to thank the gods for the mood he’s in,” Jup confessed.

“At least it’s giving you a break from his bullying, and all of us a rest from his constant grumbling.”

“You’re assuming he’s this way because of the illness, Alfray,” Stryke said. “Is it possible there’s another reason? Could he have taken a blow to the head we don’t know about?”

“There’s no sign of that. He might have, I suppose, but you’d expect to see some marks of it. I’m no great expert on head injuries, Stryke, I just know, like you, that they can cause an orc to do and say odd things.”

“Well, he seems harmless enough, but keep an eye on him, all of you.”

“You can’t let him take part in the mission, can you?” Coilla wanted to know.

“No, he’d be a burden. He’ll stay behind, along with a grunt or two to guard the camp and horses. Not to mention the crystal. I thought you might like to stay with them, Coilla.”

She flared her nostrils. “You’re not saying
I’d
be a burden?”

“Course not. But you’re not keen on enclosed places, you’ve made that clear more than once, and I need to leave somebody I can rely on. Because I’m not taking the stars with me. That’s too much of a risk. You could look after them until we get back.” He noticed her expression. “All right, it had crossed my mind that
if
we don’t get back you could carry on the work, so to speak.”

“All by myself?”

Jup grinned. “You’d have Haskeer.”

She glared at him. “
Very
funny.”

They all looked in Haskeer’s direction.

He was patting his horse’s head and feeding it from the palm of his hand.

23

It was the Lord’s wrath in action. Kimball Hobrow had no doubt of it.

His search for the ungodly, the thieving non-humans that had taken what was his, had led him to range the shores of Calyparr, a group of followers ten score and more at his back. Now, as night fell, they had come upon a charnel scene. The bodies of some two dozen humans, mostly women and children, littered a stretch of land beside the merchants’ trail.

Hobrow recognised their dress. It was immodest and self-indulgent, its bright colours pandering to vanity. He knew their kind: blasphemers, deviators from the path of righteousness. Wretched adherents of the Manifold spoor.

He walked among the slaughtered, a clutch of custodians in his wake. If the signs of butchery, of mangled limbs and rendered flesh, had any effect on the preacher he didn’t show it.

“Take heed,” he intoned. “These souls digressed from the true and only way. They embraced the obscene paganism of the impure races, and the Lord punished them for it. And the irony, brethren, was that He used non-humans as His tool, the instrument of His revenge. They lay down with the serpent and the serpent devoured them. It is fitting.”

He continued his inspection, studying the faces of the dead, the severity of their wounds.

“The arm of the Almighty is long and His ire knows no limit,” he thundered. “He strikes down the unrighteous as surely as He rewards His chosen.”

A custodian called out to him from the other side of the killing ground. He strode to the man.

“What is it, Calvert?”

“This one’s still alive, master.” He pointed to a woman.

She had a braid of long blonde hair. Her breast was bloody, her breathing shallow. She was near her end.

Hobrow knelt beside her. She seemed dimly aware of him and tried to say something, but no words came from her quivering lips.

He leaned closer. “Speak, child. Confess your sins and unburden yourself.”

“They . . . they . . .”

“Who?”

“They came . . . and . . .”

“They? The orcs, you mean?”

“Orcs.”
Her glazed eyes focused for a second.
“Yes . . . orcs.”

“They did this to you?”

“Orcs . . . came . . .”

The custodians had gathered around. Hobrow addressed them. “You see? No humans are safe from the accursed inhuman races, even those foolish enough to take their part.” He turned back to the dying woman. “Where did they go?”

“Orcs . . .”

“Yes, the orcs.” He spoke slowly and deliberately. “Do you know where they went?”

She made no reply. He grasped her hand and squeezed it. “Where did they go?” he repeated.

“Scr . . . Scratch . . .”

“My God.” He let go of her and stood. Her hand reached for his and, unnoticed, feebly dropped back.

“To your horses!” he boomed, messianic passion burning in his eyes. “The vermin we seek are in league with others of their kind. We embark upon a crusade, brethren!”

They dashed for their mounts, infected with his fervour.

“We’ll have our revenge!” he vowed. “The Lord will guide us and protect us!”

The Wolverines spent the entire day searching for another way into Scratch. If such existed, it was too well hidden for them to find. But they didn’t encounter any trolls either, as they had feared they might, and that at least was a stroke of luck.

Stryke decided they would enter the labyrinth by the main entrance, as they’d come to call it, first thing in the morning. Now that night had fallen, all they could do was wait for the dawn. As some held that trolls came to the surface in the dark, double guards were posted, and all kept their arms near to hand.

Alfray suggested that a little pellucid be shared out. Stryke had no objection, providing they kept to a small quantity and none was allowed the guards. He didn’t use any himself, but instead laid out a blanket at the edge of the camp and settled down to think and plan.

The last thing he was aware of as he drifted into sleep was the crystal’s pungent odour.

Stars were beginning to show through in the gathering twilight. They were as sharp and clear as he had ever seen them
.