'Yeah! I'd forgotten that!'
They carried on for another ten minutes. It looked as if they were going to make it. The marshy shore was in sight.
Then there was turbulence in the water a few yards ahead. Bubbles reached the surface and burst. The band stopped.
More mini whirlpools appeared in other places. More bubbles drifted up.
'Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all,' Jup muttered.
A plume of water erupted. Dead ahead, a nyadd appeared.
In short order more emerged from the fetid liquid clutching their saw-toothed weapons.
'Remember what you said about fighting them in their own element, Stryke?' Coilla reminded him.
'It's too late to turn back now, Corporal.'
Splashes from behind had them turning. More nyadds were coming up. They began moving in, front and behind.
'Let's carve some flesh,' Stryke growled.
The back half of the band took up a rearguard action, led by Jup and Haskeer. Stryke, Coilla and Alfray were in the vanguard of the coming fight. As it stood, the band outnumbered the nyadds they faced. But Stryke reckoned fighting in water at least evened the odds.
He augmented his sword with a knife and lashed out at the foremost creature. His sword struck the creature's crusty shell and did some damage. Blood trickled. But the wound wasn't sufficient to put the warrior out of the fight. Stryke gritted his teeth and went in again, this time aided by a couple of grunts harrying the nyadd from either side. They succeeded in battering it into a dive.
Coilla proceeded to toss throwing knives at the enemy's heads. But every shot meant a lost blade and her supply was limited. She spent two knives to no good effect, then her next shot connected with the side of her target's head. The nyadd bellowed and disappeared beneath the water, leaving a widening cloud of red.
A triumphant roar from behind marked their first confirmed kill. 'We're thinning their ranks,' Stryke yelled, 'but not fast enough. If more come—!'
He broke off as a nyadd propelled itself towards him waving its jagged spear. The warrior swiped at him. Stryke ducked, and in doing so took himself below the surface. The cold, foul water covered his head. He counted to three, hoping that meant the swing had passed, and resurfaced.
The nyadd was practically on top of him. Stryke rammed his sword into its belly with all his might. The carapace crunched and shattered. Blood flowed. Another great gout issued from the creature's mouth and it disappeared beneath the water. Stryke coughed up a lungful of the putrid stuff.
Haskeer and Jup were hacking at a foe from both sides. They'd already torn open one of its arms, and it was fighting to keep them off.
Wading in, Haskeer aimed a heavy blow at the creature's neck. The nyadd moved down, instinctively seeking the protection of water. It would have done better going in any other direction. The blade cleaved its head, spilling brains.
That left just four nyadds, and though they looked no less murderous, Stryke was confident they could be overcome. The whole band went for three of them.
Except Coilla, who splashed forward to engage the remaining one, which lurked apart. She didn't see another emerge from the water on her blind side, moving with remarkable speed. She spun at the last minute, two nyadds to deal with. One raised its sword.
Kestix had noticed. 'Look out, Corporal!' he yelled, propelling himself in her direction.
He got between her and the second nyadd's swinging blade. If he hoped to deflect it with his own sword, he miscalculated.
The nyadd's wickedly sharp weapon cut into his chest as if into butter. There was an explosion of gore. Kestix cried out in agony.
'No!' Coilla screamed. Then she had to pay heed to the other raider, bringing up her own sword to block his.
Kestix, still alive but grievously wounded, had been grabbed by his assailant. He struggled feebly. His cries had been heard by the others. Several, including Stryke, answered the call.
They got there just in time to see him dragged under water by the submerging nyadd. Only a bloody stain was left behind.
A couple of grunts splashed around, ducking their heads under trying to save their comrade.
'Leave it!' Stryke ordered. 'It's too late for him.'
They turned their grief-driven fury on the remaining nyadds.
Near defeating them, they noticed fresh turbulence and bubbles breaking out all around.
'Shit, chief,' Jup panted, 'we can't take much more of this!'
The band braced themselves for a last stand.
More heads began appearing.
But they weren't nyadds. They were Merz. Dozens of them, armed with trident spears and daggers.
'Gods!' Alfray exclaimed. 'Are they out for us too?'
'I don't think so,' Stryke replied.
His judgement proved true. The merz set about the few nyadds still present, tearing into them with savagery born of injustice.
One of the merz turned and raised a dripping hand to the orcs. It was a salute.
Stryke wasn't alone in returning it.
'We owe them one,' he told his comrades. 'Now let's get out of here.'
They left the slaughter and made their way to the bank, mourning Kestix.
23
The journey back to Liffin and Talag was a sombre affair. Things were no less dismal on the return journey to Drogan, despite their victory.
'Is any of this worth one orc's life?' Alfray wondered. 'Let alone one as valiant as Kestix?'
'Risking our lives is what we do,' Stryke reminded him. 'And orcs have died for less good causes.'
'You're really sure this is a good cause? Gathering together a bunch of objects we don't know the purpose of for some end we can't see?'
'We have to believe that, Alfray. And I'm sure the day will come when we'll toast Kestix, and the others who have fallen, as heroes of a new order. But don't ask me what that might be. I just feel it has to be better.' Stryke wished he entirely believed that himself. As it was he was trying not to show the crushing sense of responsibility he felt at their comrade's death.
For his part, Alfray fell silent and stared up at the band's war banner he was clutching. He seemed to draw some kind of comfort from it, perhaps musing on the unity it represented. Or that which it once did.
They were almost within sight of Drogan Forest when Jup called out, 'Eyes west!'
A large party of riders was heading their way, and they weren't far off.
'I think they're Hobrow's men,' the dwarf reported.
'Don't we ever get any peace?' Coilla complained.
'Not today, by the looks of it,' Stryke replied. 'Burn leather.'
They broke into a gallop.
'They've seen us!' Haskeer yelled. 'And they're putting on a hell of a spurt!'
A chase began in earnest. The band rode at breakneck speed for the sanctuary of the forest. But the custodians were determined and gaining.
Urging the Wolverines onward, Stryke found himself at the back of their onward rush. Then disaster struck. As the rest of the band rounded a bend and disappeared from sight, his horse caught its hoof in a rabbit hole and went down. Stryke was thrown clear. As he scrambled to his feet the horse rose and bolted.
The thunder of other hoofs had him spinning around.
A charging mob of custodians was bearing down on him. Stryke looked around desperately for cover. None presented itself. He drew his sword.
A great shadow covered him.
Just above, a dragon hovered, the beat of its mighty wings throwing up dust and leaves. The custodians, terrified, pulled up to a skidding halt. Several of them tumbled from their saddles at the violence of their halt.
For his part, Stryke was sure he was finished. It was one of Jennesta's war dragons, he was sure of that, and he expected nothing but incineration.
The dragon sank down between him and the human posse. When it was near level he saw that the handler was Glozellan herself.
She extended a hand. 'Get on, Stryke,' she urged. 'Come o
n! What have you to lose?'
He climbed the beast's scaly hide and sat behind her.
'Hold tight!' she shouted and they were away.
The climb was fast and dizzying. Stryke looked down. He saw silvery snaking rivers, green pastures, burgeoning forests. From up here it didn't look like a land raped.
He tried shouting questions at Glozellan over the wind's rush, but she either couldn't hear or ignored him. They flew north.
Perhaps an hour elapsed. They approached a mountain. Unerringly, the dragon made for its plateau. Minutes later they touched down.
'Get off,' the brownie ordered.
He slid to the ground.
'What's happening, Glozellan?' he asked. 'Am I a prisoner?'
'I can't explain now. You'll be safe here.'
She stuck her heels into the dragon's flanks. It began rising again.
'Wait!' he cried. 'Don't leave me here!'
'I'll be back!' she called. 'Have courage.'
He watched until the dragon became a dot, then disappeared altogether.
He sat for hours on his involuntary mountaintop retreat, brooding over events, regretting lives lost.
Having established that there was no possible way down, he took out the stars and contemplated them.
'Well met.'
He leapt up at the sound of the voice.
Serapheim stood before him.
Stryke was confounded. 'How did you get here? Were you another of Glozellan's passengers?'
'No, my friend. How I got here isn't important. But I wanted to apologise for leading you into that trap set by the goblin slavers. It was not my intention.'
'It turned out right in the end. I have no hard feelings towards you.'
'I'm glad.'
Stryke sighed. 'Not that any of it matters much. Things seem to be falling apart faster than I can cope with. And now I've lost my band.'
'Not lost, merely mislaid.' He smiled. 'The important thing is that you do not despair. There is still much for you to do. Now is not the time to surrender to defeatism. Have you ever heard the story of the boy and the sabre leopards?'
Now it was Stryke's turn to smile, albeit a little cynically. 'A story. Well, I suppose it's as good a way of passing the time as any.'
'There was once a boy walking in the forest,' Serapheim began, 'when he came across a savage sabre leopard. The leopard saw the boy. The boy ran with the leopard in hot pursuit. Then the boy came to the edge of a cliff. There were vines trailing over the edge, so he lowered himself down them, leaving the beast growling impotently above. But then the boy looked down and saw another, equally hungry leopard below, waiting for him. He could neither go up nor go down. Next thing, the boy heard a scratching sound. He glanced up and saw two small mice, one white and one black, chewing through the vine he was holding on to. But he saw something else. Off to one side, almost out of reach, a wild strawberry was growing. Stretching as far as he could, the boy plucked the strawberry and popped it into his mouth. And do you know something, Stryke? It was the sweetest, most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.'
'You know, I think I almost understand that. It reminds me of the sort of thing someone I know might have said . . . in a dream.'
'Dreams are good. You should pay heed to them. You know, the magic energy flows a bit stronger in these parts. It could have some effect on those.' He nodded at the stars in Stryke's hand.
'There's a connection?'
'Oh, yes.' Serapheim paused. 'Will you give them to me?'
Stryke was shocked. 'Like hell I will.'
'There was a time when I could have taken them from you, with ease. And when I would have been inclined to do so. But now it seems the gods want you to have them.'
Stryke glanced down at them. When he looked up again the human had gone. Impossibly.
He would have wondered at it, but now something else had claimed his awe.
The stars were singing to him.
Legion Of Thunder Page 23
