Orcs (32 page)

The place was as quiet as the grave and there was no sign of inhabitants. It smelt unpleasantly earthy.

“What now?” Jup whispered.

“First we secure our bridgehead.” Stryke motioned over a couple of grunts. “Liffin, Bhose. You’ll stay here and guard the exit. Don’t move from this spot until we come back or the deadline expires.”

They nodded and took up position.

“The question now is which way to go,” Alfray said, eyeing the tunnels.

“Do you think we should split into two groups, Captain?” Jup asked.

“No, that’s something I definitely want to avoid. Our force is small enough as it is.”

“What, then? Toss a coin?”

“My feeling is that a large tunnel leads to something important. I’m drawn that way. But we should check the smaller one first, just in case it holds any unpleasant surprises.”

He sent Kestix and Jad to stand guard at the larger tunnel’s mouth. Then he called over Hystykk, Noskaa, Calthmon and Breggin. He hefted a coil of rope and tossed it into the latter’s hand. “I want you four to walk that tunnel to the extent of this rope. If it looks as though it leads anywhere interesting, one of you can come back and let us know. But take no risks. At the first sign of trouble, head home.”

Jup took hold of one end of their rope. Breggin looped the other about his wrist, lifted his torch and led the others into the tunnel.

The band waited tensely as the rope played out. After a few minutes it went taut.

“What if they run into something they can’t handle?” Alfray wondered. “Do we go in after them?”

“That’s a headache we could do without,” Stryke said. “Let’s see what happens.”

They didn’t have long to wait. The troopers soon returned.

“Well?”

“Nothing to tell really, sir,” Breggin reported. “The tunnel just went on and on, much further than the rope. There weren’t any side passages or anything.”

“All right, we’ll concentrate on the other tunnel. And we’ll lay a rope trail along that one too, though I doubt the rope’s going to go very far.”

“Won’t that be a giveaway to any troll coming across it?” Jup put in.

“I think a warband tramping around with flaming torches is enough of a giveaway by itself, don’t you?” He addressed them all. “If we meet any defenders, strike first, ask questions later. We can’t afford to give quarter. Stay together and keep noise to a minimum.”

With a final reminder to Liffin and Bhose to remain alert, he led the band into the main tunnel. Alfray walked beside him, holding a torch.

The tunnel ran arrow-straight, although it sloped downward at a gentle gradient. As they walked, Stryke became aware of a drop in temperature, and his nostrils were assailed by a disagreeably stale odour. They kept up an even pace for what Stryke judged to be around five minutes, but he suspected his time sense was distorted in this dark, silent world. Then they came to a side tunnel.

It was narrow, not much more than the width of an average doorway, and the entrance was low. The walls were damp and slimy. When they threw light into it they saw that the floor inclined to almost vertical. A rope around his waist and clutching a torch, one of the grunts edged down for a look.

When they tugged him back up, he said, “It ends in a narrow shaft, like a well.”

“I reckon it’s a storm channel,” Alfray speculated. “To siphon off water if there’s a flood.”

Stryke was impressed. “Clever.”

“They’ve had a long time to build in such touches, Stryke. The trolls may be savage but they’re not necessarily ignorant barbarians. We’d do well to remember that.”

They resumed their exploration of the main tunnel, which now dipped a little more sharply. Twenty or thirty paces later, the guide rope ran out. They left it and carried on. Another five minutes passed, in Stryke’s quite possibly skewed estimation, and the tunnel began to widen. A little further on it opened out into another chamber. They paused.

As it seemed empty, and there were no sounds to be heard, they went in.

Barely had they entered when shapes suddenly disgorged from the shadows and rushed at them.

Their antagonists only half visible in the light of the flickering torches, the band laid into them. Fights broke out all around, near silently save for the clashing of blades, grunts of effort as weapons were swung, and occasional yells.

A fast-moving, dimly perceived figure came at Stryke and he lashed out at it. The blow was countered. He slashed again and missed. By sheer chance he caught sight of the glint off a blade aimed at his neck. He ducked and heard steel whistle above his head.

Stryke lunged forward, sword at arm’s length. It impacted soft flesh and his foe went down. He turned to engage another shadowy attacker.

Beside him, Alfray and Jup were slugging it out with their own opponents. The dwarf battered open a skull. Alfray thrust his burning brand into a troll’s face, inspiring a horrible screech. He cut it short with a follow-on from his blade.

Then there were no more of the enemy to fight. The skirmish had been brief and brutal, with the Wolverines prevailing despite the trolls’ vision advantage.

Stryke looked around. He saw there was another passageway set in the far wall of the chamber.

“Guard that tunnel!” he barked.

Several grunts ran to stand by it, peering into its mouth, their swords at the ready.

“Anybody down?” he said. “Any hurt?”

None had taken more than minor wounds.

“We were lucky,” Alfray panted.

“Yes, but only because we outnumbered them, I think. It could easily have gone the other way. Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Stryke took Alfray’s torch and held it over one of the bodies littering the ground.

The troll was short, very muscular and covered in shaggy grey fur. It had the kind of physique, and wan complexion, to be expected of a subterranean race. The barrel chest had developed from living in rarefied air at lower depths. There were disproportionately long arms and legs. The hands were powerful, with long, thick taloned fingers, due to burrowing.

Though dead, its eyes were still open. They’d adapted to a lack of light by evolving to a much larger size than most races’, with enormous black orbs. There was something pig-like about them. The nose was bulbous and soft like a dog’s. In contrast to the washed-out appearance of the fur and beard, the creature’s head was topped by a shock of almost primary-coloured hair. As far as they could tell in the uncertain light, it was a rusty orange.

“Not the sort of thing you’d like to bump into in the dark, is it?” Jup remarked wryly.

“Let’s keep moving,” Stryke said.

They went into the new tunnel with renewed caution.

This passageway soon curved sharply to the right before straightening again. They passed a couple of side chambers, which proved small and empty. Then the tunnel narrowed to such an extent that they had to walk single-file. Perhaps a hundred feet further along they came to a stretch where the walls and ceiling were shored up with tree trunks and propped with wooden joists.

Stryke and Alfray were walking a little way ahead of the others. They reached a thick, jutting beam, and Alfray was first to start edging past, holding his torch aloft.

He was through before he realised the strut hid a blind tunnel.

By then it was too late.

A troll leapt at him from the shadows. The impact of its loathsomely hairy body sent Alfray flying and the torch was knocked from his hand.

Stryke moved in fast, slashing at the attacker, which danced back a step or two to avoid his blade. Springing forward again, it unleashed a torrent of blows that Stryke was hard put to hold at bay.

The space was so confined that the rest of the band couldn’t get near enough to aid him. They were forced to watch helplessly as orc and troll exchanged hefty blows.

Stryke aimed a swing at the creature’s chest. It jumped aside with amazing speed and his sword thudded deep into a wooden upright. A drizzle of dust descended.

The precious second it took Stryke to dislodge the blade almost cost him his life. Growling ferociously, the troll came at him, swiping the air madly.

But the creature hadn’t counted on Alfray. On his hands and knees now, recovering from the initial clash, he reached out and grabbed the troll’s legs. It wasn’t sufficient to bring down the attacker but it distracted it long enough for Stryke to land a hit. His stroke cleaved into the troll’s side. It wailed and fell back, smashing with force into the already half-severed upright.

The joist cracked with an echoing report.

An ominous rumbling came from above. Earth and stones began showering down. The troll let out a hideous, despairing scream.

Stryke snatched Alfray’s jerkin and dragged him clear. He caught a fleeting glimpse of Jup and the rest of the band, behind them on the other side of the propped section.

There was a sound like a thunderclap. Then the ceiling crashed down on the blundering troll, crushing it instantly under masses of rocks and rubble. A shockwave like a mini-earthquake threw Alfray and Stryke to the ground. Clouds of choking dust swept over them.

They lay there with their hands over their heads, not daring to move, for what seemed like an eternity as the after-shocks reverberated.

Finally the cacophony died away, the avalanche subsided, the dust started to settle. Coughing and gasping for breath, they climbed to their feet.

At their rear the tunnel was completely blocked from floor to ceiling. Several huge boulders were among the debris. Alfray snatched up the still burning torch, their only source of light, and they scrambled to investigate.

It was instantly obvious that they couldn’t hope to shift the downfall.

“Not a chance,” Alfray said, pushing uselessly at the immovable barrier. “It must weigh tons.”

“You’re right, we’re not going to get through it.”

“You don’t think it caught any of the band, do you?”

“No, I’m sure they were clear. But I can’t see them being able to shift any of this from their side either.
Fuck it!
”

Alfray expelled a long breath. “Well, if there was any doubt the trolls didn’t know about us, that settles it. Unless they’re all deaf.”

“We can’t go back, and we can’t stay here in case there’s another fall. That only leaves one choice.”

“Let’s hope the rest of the band find a way round this mess.”

“Or we find a way to them. But I wouldn’t count on it, Alfray.”

“Two against the troll kingdom. Not very good odds, is it?”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”

They took a last look at the blocked tunnel, then turned and headed into the unknown.

Coilla reflected that while it had never exactly been fun to be in Haskeer’s presence, at least it used to be a lot livelier when he was his old self.

She glanced at him, sitting opposite. He was using a saddle for a seat, hands hanging to either side, staring vacantly at nothing in particular.

Reafdaw was carrying out her orders and loading the sacks of pellucid on to a pair of the stronger horses. Just in case. Apart from that, there wasn’t a lot they could do except wait. Certainly conversation with Haskeer was a dismal prospect. She’d already asked him how he felt half a dozen times and received the same unconvincing assurances of good health. That left few other topics of discussion, and the silence was uncomfortable.

So she experienced a mixture of relief and some apprehension when Haskeer looked up, seemed to see her properly for the first time, and said, “Do you have the stars?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Can I look at them?”

Innocence
seemed a wildly inappropriate word to apply to Haskeer at the best of times, but the way he made the request brought it to mind.

“Why not?” she replied.

She was aware of him watching her closely as she dug into her belt pouch. When the instrumentalities were produced, he held out his hand to take them. She thought that was where to draw the line.

“I think it’d be best if you looked but didn’t touch,” she told him. “No offence,” she added hurriedly, “but Stryke ordered me not to let anybody else handle them. Nobody, not even you.”

It was a lie, but she knew Stryke would have intended that. She waited for Haskeer’s blustery protest. It didn’t come. This new Haskeer seemed infuriatingly reasonable. She wondered how long it would last.

Coilla sat there facing him with the stars sitting in her outstretched palm, and he stared. He seemed transfixed by the strange relics in the way a hatchling might be enchanted by a particularly shiny toy.

After a couple of minutes of Haskeer regarding their booty with an unbroken gaze, Coilla started to feel uncomfortable again. She could easily imagine this going on for hours, and she had better things to do. Actually, she didn’t. But she was damned if she was going to sit there pretending to be a pedestal for the rest of the day.

“I reckon that’s enough for now,” she announced, closing her fist on the stars. She returned them to her pouch.

Again, she was conscious of him watching her every move, the expression on his face mingling fascination and disappointment.

Another pall of silence descended. It was getting too oppressive for her.

“I’m just going over to the lookout point,” she said. “They might be on their way back.” She didn’t really think they would be; it was far too soon for that. But it gave her something to do.

Haskeer said nothing, just watched her walk away.

Coilla passed Reafdaw at the horses and called out to tell him what she was doing. He nodded and carried on working.

Their observation point wasn’t far. It was an elevated slab of rock in sight of the camp, and from which the entrance to Scratch could just be seen. She walked to it unhurriedly, more intent on killing time than expecting to see her returning comrades.

Having climbed to the rock’s flat plateau, she looked back. There was no sign of Reafdaw. She assumed he’d finished the chore and was with Haskeer. Good. Let somebody else share the boredom.

She turned around and concentrated on the distant cave-like entrance to the troll underworld. It wasn’t a particularly sunny day, as was usual of late, but she still had to shield her eyes to make out any details.