Orcs: Inferno

by Stan Nicholls

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Trust me. We’ve more important things to worry about, not least trying to replenish our plundered treasury, thanks to Jennesta.”

  “And now this… strangeness. What the hell’s happening, Brelan?”

  “Damned if I know. Maybe we’ll learn something from this new event.”

  They pushed on, moving away from the centre and entering less crowded streets. The further they went the more they saw of the defensive measures Brelan referred to. In piazzas, or open spaces where buildings had burnt down during the uprising, citizens were being drilled. Mobile road blocks, consisting of hay wagons loaded with rocks, stood at the side of major avenues. Rooftops were utilised as lookout points, and in some places purpose-built watchtowers were under construction. The threat of re-invasion was being taken seriously.

  At last the twins reached a district previously given over to cattle yards and storehouses. Now a contingent of Acurial’s newly-created regular militia were stationed there. In addition to an armed populace, a standing army was thought desirable, and former resistance fighters made up its nucleus. It was early days for the force; their uniforms were makeshift and their weapons ill-assorted. Their quarters were at a rudimentary stage too, and in common with the rest of Taress the area was a building site.

  Waved through the compound’s gates by saluting guards, Chillder and Brelan made their way to a recently erected barracks block. They were met outside by an officer, a comrade from the resistance days, who unlocked the barracks’ door and ushered them in.

  “Not that there’s much to see,” he said.

  There were only minor signs of disorder in the deserted interior. A couple of the cots were askew, a chair was upended and a few items of kit were scattered across the floor.

  “This has been left exactly as it was?” Brelan asked.

  The officer nodded. “Just as you see it.”

  “How many?”

  “Eleven.”

  “When?”

  “Some time during the night. We only knew when they didn’t show up at reveille.”

  “You’ve searched the camp?”

  “Of course.”

  “Were any of them… dissatisfied in any way?” Chillder said.

  “These weren’t troublemakers. They were as solid and as loyal as any we’ve got.”

  “Their arms went too?” She pointed at an empty weapons rack.

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve told no one about this?” Brelan said.

  “No,” the officer replied.

  “Good. Keep it that way. You can leave us now. And thanks.”

  When the officer had gone, Chillder turned to her brother. “How many times does this make?”

  “Seven, I think. Possibly eight. That’s just from Taress, mind. There are a few unconfirmed reports from outside the city. With this new lot I reckon we’re talking upwards of seventy militia having gone missing, that we’re aware of.”

  “So what are we dealing with? Desertion? Hostage taking?”

  “As far as we know there’s no reason for any of them to have deserted. And I can’t see abducting armed bands of warriors being that easy a task, particularly from inside a compound like this.”

  “Did all the others go in similar ways?”

  “Some did. From their quarters, just like whatever happened here. One group went out on a patrol and never came back. There were a couple of cases of disappearances on guard duty, and one where four, I think it was, vanished from a weapons dump. There’s no real pattern. Except nobody saw anything.”

  “Could Peczan be behind this? Might they have got agents in and—”

  “Humans trying to hide among a nation of orcs? I don’t think so, Chillder.”

  “Or could it be our own kind? Traitors doing the humans’ bidding.”

  “It’d take a lot of them, not to mention a pretty big conspiracy. I don’t want to think there could be that many traitors. I don’t believe there are. There might be one or two turncoats, for some twisted reason, but not on this scale.”

  “There’s another possibility. Have you noticed the smell in here?”

  A faint sulphurous aroma hung in the air, mingled with the scent of the barracks’ new wood.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Oh, come on, Brelan; you know what it is.”

  “Magic?”

  “Yes. Couldn’t that be it?”

  “I can’t see how. Humans have mastery of magic, not orcs, and like I said; where would humans hide in Acurial?”

  “Jennesta’s not human. This could be her doing.”

  “The same thing applies. I mean, she’d stick out, wouldn’t she? Anyway, I don’t believe she’s still hanging around. The mob would tear her to pieces, never mind her sorcery. That’s not a risk she’d take.”

  “What then? Who’s doing this?”

  “Whoever or whatever’s responsible, we’re going to have to brace ourselves for more of the same.”

  “You reckon?”

  “We’ve no reason to think it might stop. Whatever it is.”

  “How do we protect ourselves?”

  “Short of gathering the entire army together and watching each other’s backs, I’ve no idea. And who can say if even that would work?”

  “There must be something we can do, Brelan.”

  “We don’t know what we’re trying to protect ourselves against. All we do know—”

  “Is that our comrades have disappeared as surely as the Wolverines,” she finished for him.

  He nodded, looking grim.

  17

  Long after the sun disappeared, and the crisp night sky was speckled with stars, the Wolverines’ ship ploughed on.

  They used hooded lamps for such light as they needed and conversed in hushed tones. Dynahla was the only real guide to their destination, and as they were uncertain about how close they were, or whether there might be other craft abroad, they ran dark and silent.

  Stryke gathered his officers in what had been the master’s cabin, or whatever the ship’s former, goblin owners called it. Its windows were kept firmly shuttered.

  “What do we do when we get there?” Haskeer demanded before they all finished seating themselves.

  “That’s what we’re here to figure out,” Stryke told him. “Now sit down and shut up.”

  Sullenly, his sergeant did as he was told.

  “We don’t know what we’ll be up against,” Stryke said. “So we need a plan. You’re our strategist, Coilla; talk to me.”

  “We do know what we’ll be up against: Jennesta. Question is how best to overcome her and pull off our mission. And not get killed doing it.”

  “Isn’t that always the way it is when we tangle with her?” Jup asked.

  “Yeah,” Haskeer chimed in, “since when did we worry about odds when it comes to a fight? I say we go in with blades out and give no quarter, Stryke, like we usually do.”

  “This is different. I want Thirzarr out of there and safe. That’s what Coilla meant by the mission. This isn’t just about killing Jennesta.”

  “You don’t want to fight?” Haskeer looked incredulous.

  “Course I do. But I want to fight smart.”

  “Could be we’ll run straight into opposition,” Coilla said, “in which case it’ll be an all-out scrap. But if we can get ashore unseen, maybe a snatch squad’s the best option to bring out Thirzarr.”

  “What about Jennesta?” Jup wanted to know.

  “Once we get Thirzarr clear we can tackle her force head-on.”

  “Only trouble with that,” Stryke judged, “is that it spreads us thin.”

  “Yeah,” Coilla agreed. “Three groups. Snatch squad, main body holding back ’til they get the word to attack, and a group defending the ship.”

  “That could be us,” Dallog suggested. “Me and the rest of the Ceragans. We could guard the ship.”

  Haskeer sneered. “Quick getting in with that bid, ain’t you? Frightened of a
fight?”

  “No. It’s just that we work well together. We’ve proved that.”

  “You did a good job holding it last time,” Stryke conceded. “That’s your detail then.”

  “We’re better off without ’em,” Haskeer muttered.

  “But I can’t spare all of you,” Stryke added. “Take Chuss, Pirrak and Keick. Wheam can come with us.”

  Haskeer loudly groaned. “As if we didn’t have enough trouble.”

  Stryke showed him a clenched fist. “I won’t be telling you again. We need all the bodies we can get. He’s included.”

  “Not in the snatch squad?” Jup said, faintly alarmed.

  “No. He’ll be part of the main force.”

  “Who is in the snatch squad?” Coilla wondered.

  “Me, you, Jup and a couple of the grunts. I’m thinking Eldo and Reafdaw. Dynahla should be in it, too.”

  “Why?”

  “He says he’s got magic. We might need that. And before you say it; yes, we don’t really know anything about him. I’ll take that risk.” He looked to Haskeer. “You’ll head the main force.”

  “So I get the pleasure of Wheam’s company. Lucky me. Pepperdyne, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the other one?”

  “Standeven stays on the ship. You’ll keep an eye on him, Dallog.”

  Somebody rapped on the door and barged in. It was Finje, breathing hard from a dash.

  “We can see it,” he reported. “The island. It’s in sight.”

  “It’s big,” Stryke said, peering at the long black slab of the island, outlined on the horizon by the spreading dawn. “Funny it’s not on the map.” He shot Dynahla a searching look, coloured with a hint of suspicion.

  “There are lots of maps. I doubt there’s one that charts this world accurately. Anyway, what’s the worry? There it is.”

  “You’re sure Jennesta’s there, and Thirzarr?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because Serapheim told you so.”

  “Not just that. Now we’re close I can sense the presence myself.”

  “You can? How?”

  “As with so much to do with the craft, it’s hard to explain to the uninitiated. Let’s just say that living things give out a certain… cadence, and some of us can detect it.”

  “I can’t pretend to understand that.”

  “You’ll have to take my word for it then. But be certain that Jennesta, and your mate, are on that island.”

  They were at the ship’s prow, and Stryke carried on staring at the island for a moment before speaking again. “The plan’s to send in a snatch squad to get Thirzarr out before we launch a full attack. Will you be part of the squad?”

  “I think I ought to be. Though you should be aware that Jennesta’s sorcery is stronger than you know, and quite possibly greater than anything I can summon.”

  “That’s better than nothing. But here’s something you should be aware of. All I know about you is what you’ve told us. On the strength of that I’m trusting you. Betray that trust, or do anything that might harm Thirzarr, and you won’t be coming back from this mission, whatever happens to the rest of us. Got it?”

  “I understand. You can rely on me, Stryke. Now unless there’s anything else, I’d like to prepare.”

  “What does that involve?”

  “Nothing too drastic. I just need to find a quiet corner for contemplation, to centre myself.”

  “I need to do some preparing myself. I’ll send for you when it’s time.”

  From the bridge, Coilla and Pepperdyne watched Stryke and the shape-changer part.

  “Think we can trust him?” Pepperdyne said.

  “Stryke seems to. Not that he has much choice. Though it’ll go badly for Dynahla if this is some kind of trick.”

  “It’d go pretty badly for us as well.”

  “The band’s used to being in tight spots.”

  “It’s not the band I’m worried about. It’s you.”

  “You’re worried about an orc going into a fight.” She had to smile. “That’s like worrying about a bird flying or whether a fish can swim.”

  “Hunters bring down birds and fish lose out to hooks.”

  “I’m not a fish or a bird, so I’ve nothing to worry about, have I?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Look, Jode; my race lives for combat. It’s what we do. Or hadn’t you noticed? I’d have thought you’d understand, being a fighter yourself.”

  “Only out of necessity.”

  “And you get no pleasure from winning a fight? No rush of joy when you down an opponent?”

  “Well… maybe. A bit. But I don’t relish putting my life on the line every day the way you do.”

  “It’s in our nature. We fight, and we fight to kill. If death takes us, that’s the price we pay. Though we do our best to make damn sure it’s who we’re up against that does the paying. We trust to our skill, and to luck and to the Tetrad. If you want an orcs’ creed, that’s as near as I can get to it in words.”

  “I’m not arguing about your nature, Coilla. That’s part of what I love about you, and I’d never change it. I only want you to be careful.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

  Pepperdyne slapped his forehead with the heel of his palm in a gesture of mock exasperation, and they laughed.

  “So what’s the plan?” he said. “How are we going about this raid?”

  “Stryke’ll be briefing us shortly, but the idea’s to anchor well offshore and go over in boats. If we get there without being spotted we split into our two groups and the game’s on.”

  “And if we are spotted?”

  “Then it gets messy.”

  It happened as Coilla said. All lights extinguished, the ship was anchored as far from the island as practicable. Dallog’s unit was left in charge. The rest of the band cautiously lowered the boats, and likewise in darkness, made for the shore using muffled oars.

  The sea was obligingly calm. It did little to reduce the tension of the crossing. Eyes and ears sharp, silence imposed, they expected the alarm to be raised at any moment. But they reached the shore apparently unseen. There was no sign of Jennesta’s ships; the band assumed they were anchored on another side of the island.

  The point at which they met the shore was rocky and too steep for a landing. So they moved along the coastline, keeping close, until they found a sandy beach. Clambering ashore, they headed for the shelter of trees, dragging the boats behind them.

  To face Jennesta, they had to find her. Stryke sent out as many scouts as he could spare. Zoda, Prooq, Nep, Breggin and Orbon got the job. Treading lightly, they fanned out into the jungle. The rest of the Wolverines kept low and quiet, and waited.

  It wasn’t a long vigil. The island was large, but Jennesta had seen no point in penetrating its interior to set up a temporary camp. Her force was located a short distance inland, and to the west. There were guards, of course; and Breggin and Zoda, who got nearest, thought Jennesta’s army might have grown. Stryke gave no time to wondering how that could be.

  He ordered the band into its two groups. The larger, main force, lead by Haskeer, would follow the snatch squad but at a slower pace. At a prearranged spot it would stop and wait for its signal to attack. If the signal didn’t come, no one doubted they would go in anyway.

  It was full night when Stryke headed off, with Jup, Coilla, Dynahla, Eldo and Reafdaw in tow, the latter pair carrying bows. Dynahla refused any kind of weapon beyond a small decorative dagger he always wore.

  Coilla shot Pepperdyne a quick smile as they left. He returned a wink, braving Haskeer’s scowl.

  The snatch squad travelled with measured speed, careful not to give themselves away. Soon they were out of sight of the main force at their rear. Following the scouts’ directions, they forged on through semi-jungle conditions, aggravating but far from impenetrable, until they came to clearer land. Moon and star shine were more plentiful
here, and the band moved sure-footedly. At last they arrived at a grassy rise. Going up it on their bellies, they peeked over its crest at the vale below. They saw a cluster of tents, tethered horses, and figures outlined in the glow of cooking fires and armourers’ braziers.

  Anticipating a possible refusal, Stryke left Dynahla out of dealing with guards. There seemed to be four, but they weren’t fixed. Their patrolling took them across the orcs’ path to the camp. Stryke thought to let Eldo’s and Reafdaw’s bows take care of them. The guards patrolled in pairs, which made the task easier. The trick was to eliminate one pair without the other knowing. That meant waiting until they were out of each other’s sight.

  The four guards, having completed their rounds, were bunched together. Any attempt to drop them by Stryke’s two archers ran the risk of their targets raising the alarm before they could reload and reaim. But finally the guards parted, each pair moving away in opposite directions. Stryke sent Reafdaw and Eldo to the right, to shadow the duo walking that way. Hunters and prey soon disappeared from view. The other pair of guards, heading left, had also gone beyond seeing.

  “How good are your archers?” Dynahla asked in a hushed tone.

  “Good enough,” Stryke said. “It’s why I picked ’em.”

  “What we have to be wary of,” Coilla explained, “is the guards going the other way.” She nodded to the left. “When they come back and don’t see the others—”

  “It could be yelling time,” Jup finished for her.

  Dynahla nodded.

  They kept watching.

  The wait was long enough that they were beginning to suspect something had gone wrong. Then Eldo and Reafdaw reappeared, giving the thumbs-up. At exactly the same time the two remaining guards returned. With frantic gestures Stryke and the others indicated this, and urged the grunts on. Doubled over, resembling loping apes, Eldo and Reafdaw started to run towards them.

  The pair of guards returning from the left were in plain sight now. They were talking to each other, animatedly, and slowing. The absence of their comrades had been noted.

  Eldo and Reafdaw arrived, breathing hard and scrabbling for arrows.

  “Move it!” Stryke hissed. “They know something’s wrong!”

  The grunts had to rise above the crest of the hill to discharge their bows. As they did, one of the guards glanced their way and saw them. His mouth formed an “O.” It was too late. The arrows winged towards them, hitting true, and they went down without a sound.