Orcs (76 page)

“I know. We’ll have double guards, and any sleep’s going to be done with an eye open.”

On another hill, not that far away, Kimball Hobrow was moved by the spirit and in full flow.

“ . . . marching under the banner of our Lord God Almighty!”
he bellowed.

The roar of many throats answered his words.

He stood next to Mercy, bathed in the eerie, flickering light of stands of torches burning on either side. Before them stretched a vast army, an ocean of human faces, holding aloft their own myriad brands. His custodians made up the front ranks, in pride of place.

“Our hour of deliverance is near!”
he promised them.
“We need only the will, my brethren, to go forth and smash the heathens! To grind the bones of the dissenter Manis and the godless elder races! And I have that will!”

Another avalanche of roars urged him on. Pikes and pennons jabbed the air.

“I have that will and I have the broad shoulders of the God of creation to back it!”
As they cheered he scanned them, making a theatrical show of it. His was a ragtag horde, with custodians, Unis from farther afield who heeded the call, and a smattering of dwarf clans. But they had the Holy Spirit moving in them. Except for the dwarves, who were here for coin.
“We have many foes,”
he warned,
“for the black affliction of wickedness is everywhere! As I speak, one such is ahead of us in our crusade to Ruffetts! You know her! She is the Whore of the scriptures, the viper in God’s earthly Kingdom! But together we shall rout her!”

Approval rang out like thunder.

“
We are many and we will be more! We march for the future of our races!
” He had to include the wretched dwarf element, for now.
“For the children!”
Hobrow thrust a hand out to direct their gaze at Mercy’s forlorn expression.
“For our immortal souls!”

His army’s clamour was fit to raise the dead.

Three to four hundred human corpses littered the killing field, along with an uncounted number of horses and beasts of burden. Overturned wagons and carts, some burning, formed islands in the slaughter.

Jennesta watched, uninterested, as her troopers moved through the fallen by torchlight, pillaging and killing the wounded.

Mersadion, his face swathed, invited her to celebrate the small victory.

She was in no mood to. “I
curse
it. Having those fools blunder into us means more delay. Nothing is as important as the band and the instrumentality.”

Forgetting herself, she had used a word she had never used to him before. He had some small idea of its weight, but fought not to show it. “The dying words of one of the enemy, ma’am, were that this force was on its way to join a greater Uni army.”

“Where?”

“That we couldn’t discover, my lady. But we think not far.”

“Then increase security, strengthen the guard. Do what you have to. Don’t bother me with these matters.” Her temper rose sharply. “Just get us to Ruffetts View!” She flicked her hand to dismiss him.

He went back into the night, nursing his growing canker of resentment.

There was a rivulet flowing nearby. She plucked a torch from its bracket, and went over to settle on the low bank and brood.

Her brand, thrust into the earth beside her, cast its flickering light on the dark waters. After a while she became aware that the reflection had taken on a more distinct tone. The pattern of its movement on the surface subtly changed, its brightness grew. Fire and water united and swirled.

More in weary resignation than surprise, Jennesta watched as the likeness of a face coalesced. A result of Adpar’s death was that an elaborate medium was no longer necessary should Jennesta and her surviving sibling want to communicate. The trouble was it worked both ways.

“You’re all I need, Sanara.”

“You cannot hide from the consequences of your actions.”

“What would you know about my actions, you . . . prodnose?”

“I know the wickedness you practised on our sister.”

Jennesta thought that given the chance she’d happily do it again. And intended to. “You should be glad of what I did. It made for one less tyrant in the land. That’s the sort of thing to please you, isn’t it?”

“Your hypocrisy’s breathtaking. Don’t you realise that many consider you the greatest tyrant of all?”

Jennesta put on a flattered expression. “Oh, really?”

“You know full well that your despotism is blacker than most.”

“Worse than the tyranny of the Unis’ absurd sole deity? Harder than the followers of that unforgiving god?”

“You’re likening yourself to a god now, are you?”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, where is the evidence that the accursed Uni god even exists?”

“You could say the same of the elder races’ gods.”

“Who’s setting herself above the gods now?” Jennesta sneered. “Anyway, was this visitation only to berate me? Or do you have something useful to say? I am busy, you know.”

“You drive away even those who try to help you. You drive everybody away.”

“I’m still strong enough to achieve what I must.”

“Perhaps. And I suppose I should be content that your support will in time bleed dry.”

“I’ll have what I want long before that, and then there’ll be no need of corporeal followers.”

“There are other, powerful players in this game. And perhaps they include someone you need fear.”

“Who?” Jennesta snapped. “Who would dare? Unis, Manis, religious fanatics? Or those orcs I pursue? A band that runs and won’t even stand to fight me? Those stupid savages?”

“You mock them but they’ve proved more successful than you in this enterprise.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve said enough.”

“They have more than one of the instrumentalities now, is that it?” She did little to disguise the eagerness in her voice.

Sanara didn’t reply.

“Your silence is eloquent, sister. Well, I should thank you for that. Now I know that catching this band promises even more riches than I suspected. They’ve done the work for me.”

“You’re courting death and damnation.”

“Is
that
all? I am the mistress of both, Sanara, and neither holds any fears for me.”

“We shall see. But why cause so much grief? There’s still time to mend your ways.”

“Oh, fiddle me another air, you pathetic little whinger!”

“Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

“You plucked the words from my mouth,” Jennesta intoned menacingly, then slashed her hand through the water, breaking their connection.

She conceded to herself that dealing Sanara a similar fate to Adpar’s wouldn’t be as easy. Sanara’s protection was so much stronger. But she resolved to put the task near the top of her list.

Stryke and the band were still on their hill when dawn broke.

Shafts from the rising sun glanced off the structures below. Birds were singing.

Those of the band on sleep rota started to wake. Stryke had hardly slept at all. Coilla hadn’t much either.

“Are they never still?” she wondered, nodding at the settlement.

People moved around purposefully, even at this hour. Materials were being carted to the temple and hoisted up the scaffolding.

“They’re a busy lot,” Stryke replied. “They worked on the building all night.”

There were humans outside the gates too. Some on foot, some riding along the front of the walls on horses.

Yawning, Jup said, “They do seem to have patrols then.”

“They’d be fools not to,” Haskeer muttered.

Alfray stretched. “Decided what we’re going to do yet, Stryke?”

“Go in, I reckon, open and peaceable.”

“If you say so.”

“You seem doubtful.”

“We all are, a bit,” Coilla told him. “We’d be hostages to fortune if things go wrong.”

“What else can we do? Like I said—” He looked over his shoulder, downhill, away from the settlement, an attentive expression on his face.

“What? What is it?” Coilla said.

Alfray joined in. “Stryke?”

“Something’s coming,” Stryke declared.

Haskeer stared at him. “Huh?”

Then they saw them. A group of riders on the trail into the valley.

“Gods!” Jup exclaimed. “They must be a couple of hundred strong.”

Coilla shaded her eyes with a hand. “And they’re orcs.”

“By the Square, they
are
,” Alfray confirmed. “What do you reckon this is, Stryke?”

“If our luck’s out, it’s another of Jennesta’s hunting parties.”

“They’ve seen us,” Haskeer informed them.

Some of the mounted figures were waving shields and spears.

“They don’t look hostile,” Jup said.

“Unless it’s a trap,” Haskeer warned.

“I told you so, Stryke!” the dwarf blurted out. “Farsight!”

“What do you mean?” Stryke was uncomfortable.

“You knew they were coming before we saw them. They made no noise. So how?”

“Just a . . . hunch.” He was aware of them looking at him strangely. “What’s the matter, don’t any of you ever trust to instinct?”

Alfray nodded towards the riders. “This isn’t the time. What are we going to do about them?”

Stryke sighed. “I’m going down to them. You and Coilla come with me, along with four grunts.”

He turned to Jup and Haskeer. “You two assume command until we get back.”

If any of them thought this was a bad idea they didn’t say it.

Stryke, Coilla and Alfray started down the hill, mustering Orbon, Prooq, Vobe and Finje on the way.

They arrived on the level at the same time as the mounted orcs. They looked peaceable. Many were smiling. Stryke thought that a couple of them were among Katz’s bodyguard back in Drogan.

A corporal in the front rank seemed to be in charge. He hailed them. “I’m Krenad. Well met! You’re Stryke, right?”

“What of it?”

“It’s you we’ve come to join.”

“I’m not recruiting.”

Corporal Krenad’s face lost some of its shine.

“Hear him out, Stryke,” Coilla whispered.

When Stryke spoke again it was more placatingly. “Where you from?”

“All over, Captain. Most of us deserted Jennesta’s horde. The rest we picked up on the way here. And there’s others coming, no doubt of that.”

“Why? Why do so many of you persist in following me?”

“I would have thought that was obvious, sir,” the corporal responded in a baffled tone.

“How did you know where to find us?” Alfray interrupted.

“From Jennesta, in a way.”

“What?” Coilla said.

“She’s coming here, with an army. Big one. And not all the warriors she leads feel disloyalty the way we did. Far from it. Travelling light, we outpaced her. She’s been trailing you for a while now, and one of her dragon handlers spotted you.”

“Well, we knew she was heading for Drogan,” Alfray conceded.

“Once you were spotted moving down the inlet she decided to skirt the forest,” Krenad explained.

“At least the centaurs should be spared her attention,” Coilla said.

“Oh, it’s you she wants. Badly. But that ain’t all.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It gets worse?”

“There’s another army ahead of her, coming this way too. Unis, we reckon. Both should be here in a day or so.”

“Shit, it does,” Coilla murmured. She turned to Stryke. “You can’t send them away. Not with Jennesta and the gods know who else on our heels.”

Stryke looked doubtful.

“We’re on the end of a peninsula, if you hadn’t noticed,” Alfray put in. “If we have to fight our way out of this box some extra help’s going to be useful.”

Stryke considered that.

“Come on,” Coilla urged. “Military logic alone tells you it makes sense.”

“All right,” Stryke relented. “For now. But until we get things sorted you’re under my command, right, Corporal?”

“Yes, sir! That’s just what we want.”

Somebody in the ranks shouted, “When do we start fighting?”

“I’ve no plans for that!” he returned. Then he addressed the four Wolverine grunts. “Get these soldiers billeted.” To the corporal he added, “You’ll take your orders from these troopers as though they were mine. Understood?”

Krenad nodded.

Stryke turned and began trudging back up the hill, Coilla and Alfray in tow.

“Damn,”
he breathed. “A force this large is going to make the Manis think we’re here to attack.”

Coilla shook her head. “Not necessarily. Not if we get in there now and explain things. An open-handed approach, as you said.”

“Maybe it’s providential that these orcs have come,” Alfray pronounced.

Stryke glared at him.

Coilla smiled. “Looks like you’re being cast as a leader whether you like it or not, Stryke.”

He glanced back at the expectant warriors. “I don’t want this.”

“You’ve got it. Cope.”

12

Holding aloft a flag of truce, and on foot, Stryke marched to the settlement’s gates. Coilla, Alfray and Jup went with him. Haskeer had been left in charge of the forces outside.

A group of Mani guards, half a dozen strong, appeared at the gates as Stryke’s party reached them. They were dressed uniformly in dark brown jerkins and black trews with high leather boots. All wore swords, and two or three had bows looped over their arms.

“Well met,” Stryke said. “We come in peace.”

One of the guards wore a green arm sash that seemed to indicate his seniority. “Approach in peace and we accept you in that spirit,” he responded, apparently reciting a protocol. He departed from it to add, “
Why
have you come?”

“To speak with your leader.”

“We have no one leader. There’s a council made up of the people’s elders, the military and the priesthood. Decisions are taken communally.”

“Fine. Can we see somebody from the council then?”

“We don’t refuse audiences unreasonably, but tell me the nature of your business.”

“We simply seek the protection of your walls while we rest before moving on.”

“You have a large force with you, and you’re orcs. Is our protection necessary?”