Mersadion looked at her, slack-jawed. She held another glowing ball.
“You were saying?” she asked, as though she really expected a recap. “Something about not being willing to carry out a straightforward order, wasn’t it?”
“I am more than willing to carry out your orders, ma’am,” he babbled. “This is simply a case of numbers, of —”
This time she seemed to flick the ball, and it moved with greater speed.
It struck the wall a couple of feet above his head with another deafening bang. He flinched. Small bits of stone and flakes of masonry showered his quivering head.
“You’re offering me excuses again, General,” she chided, “when what I want are solutions.”
As though having started the process made it easier for her, yet another ball appeared on her palm, fully formed and pulsing. With a girlish laugh she tossed it like a child’s toy.
It flew his way, looking as though it would hit him this time. But the trajectory was finely judged, and as he pressed his back to the wall the sphere went past.
The ball collided with the water butt. Though it wasn’t really a collision. The orb touched the wood of the barrel and was absorbed by it. Instantly, the water bubbled and boiled. Steam rose from the butt’s open top and sprayed from between its higher metal hasps.
Badly shaken, Mersadion looked back at Jennesta. She hadn’t produced another sphere so he started talking, fast. “Of course, Majesty, anything you will is possible and can be undertaken immediately. I’m sure we can overcome any minor obstacles in the path of gathering an army.”
“Good, General. I knew you’d see sense.” Her point made, she dusted her hands by slapping them lightly together, as though giving him a round of slow applause. “One other thing,” she added.
All the tension seeped back into Mersadion’s body. “Ma’am?”
“A question of discipline. You must be aware that this Stryke and his warband are taking on the mantle of heroes for certain sections of the army.”
“Unfortunately that’s true, Majesty. Though it’s by no means widespread.”
“Be sure it doesn’t become so. If a thing like that takes hold it can fester. What are you doing to counter it?”
“We’re making widely known your version . . . er, the truth, that is, of how the Wolverines went renegade. Members of the lower ranks heard defending the actions of the outlaws are subject to a flogging.”
“Make that all ranks, and punish them for any mention of Stryke and his band. I want their names stamped out. As to flogging, it’s too lenient. Execution should be the price. Burn a few troublemakers as an example and you’ll soon see an end to sedition.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Whatever doubts he might have had about the effectiveness of a strategy like that he kept to himself.
“Attention to detail, Mersadion. It’s what keeps the realm functioning.”
Eager to ingratiate himself, he replied, “Ah, the secret of your success, my lady.”
“No, General. The secret of my success is brutality.”
For the better part of two days, Stryke, Coilla, Haskeer, Jup and the grunts travelled uneventfully. They stopped as infrequently as possible and made the best time they could.
By the afternoon of the second day they were bone tired. But they could see a line of trees that marked the inlet, and far to the right, the edge of Drogan Forest.
As shadows were lengthening, the rear lookouts saw four horsemen coming at them from the east. There was no cover for miles and it seemed reasonable to assume they weren’t part of a larger group.
“Trouble, you think?” Jup wondered.
“If it is I reckon we can handle four, don’t you?” Stryke told him. He slowed the column to a trot.
A few minutes passed and Haskeer said, “They’re orcs.”
Stryke took a look for himself. “You’re right.”
“Doesn’t mean to say they’re friendly,” Coilla reminded them.
“No. But like I said, they’re only four.”
In due course the quartet of riders arrived. The foremost threw up his arm in greeting. “Well met!”
“Well met,” Stryke replied cautiously. “What’s your business?”
The leading orc stared. “You’re him, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Stryke. We’ve never met, Captain, but I’ve seen you once or twice.” He scanned the others. “And these are Wolverines?”
“Yes, I’m Stryke. Who are you and what do you want?”
“Corporal Trispeer, sir.” He nodded at his companions. “Troopers Pravod, Kaed and Rellep.”
“You with a warband?”
“No. We were infantry in Queen Jennesta’s horde.”
“Were?” Jup picked up.
“We’ve . . . left.”
“Nobody leaves Jennesta’s service unless it’s feet first,” Coilla said. “Or has she started a retirement scheme?”
“We’ve gone AWOL, Corporal. Same as your band.”
“Why?” Stryke wanted to know.
“I’m surprised at you asking, Captain. We’ve had enough of Jennesta, pure and simple. Her injustice, her cruelty. Orcs’ll fight, you know that, and we’ll do it without grumbling. But she’s pushing us too far.”
The trooper called Kaed added, “Lot of us don’t feel comfortable fighting for humans neither, begging your pardon, sir.”
“And we’re not the only ones to vote with our feet,” Trispeer went on. “Granted it’s just a few so far, but we reckon it’ll grow.”
“You were looking for us?” Jup said.
“No, Sergeant. Well, not exactly. Once we deserted we had hoped to find you but didn’t know where to look. Fact is we’ve just come from Hecklowe. Heard about the uproar there and figured it sounded like your band. Somebody told us you’d been seen riding west, so . . .”
“Why do you say you’d hoped to find us?” Stryke asked.
“Your band’s been officially named renegades. There’s a bounty on your heads. Big one.”
“We know that.”
“You’re being slandered by everybody from Jennesta down. They say you’re common outlaws, that you kill your own kind, and that you’ve stolen some kind of treasure belonging to the queen.”
Stryke’s face clouded. “I’m not surprised. What’s your point?”
“Well, some of us reckon we’re not being told the truth. You’ve always had a good reputation, Captain, and we know the way the queen and her lackeys lie about those who’ve fallen out of favour.”
“For what it’s worth,” Coilla informed him, “they are lying about us.”
“I knew it.” He turned and nodded at his companions. They nodded and smiled back. He went on, “So we reckoned you might be able to use us.”
That puzzled Stryke. “What do you mean? Use you for what?”
“We figured that you’ve got to be mustering an army, a force of disenchanted orcs, like us. Maybe to fight Jennesta. Maybe to found a homeland. We want to join.”
Stryke contemplated their hopeful faces for a moment. He sighed. “I’m not running a crusade, Corporal, and I’m certainly not looking for recruits. We didn’t mean to set out on the path we’re following and now we’re having to make the best of it.”
Trispeer’s face fell. “But, Captain —”
“It’s hard enough being responsible for the lives and fortunes of my band members. I don’t want the burden of taking on more.” Softening his tone, he added, “You’ll have to find your own way.”
The corporal looked disappointed. They all did. “You mean you’re not making a stand? You don’t want to strike a blow for all us orcs in bondage?”
“We’re making a stand of sorts, but in our own way. It’s going to take somebody else to strike that blow. You’re looking in the wrong place. I’m sorry.”
Trispeer decided to be philosophical. “Oh, well, perhaps I knew it was too good to be true. But you and your band’s starting to be celebrated in the ranks.
There’ll be others thinking what we thought and wanting to join with you.”
“I’ll tell them what I’ve just told you.”
“I guess we’ll have to do something else, then.”
Haskeer entered the conversation. “Like what?”
“Get ourselves to Black Rock Forest, maybe.”
“To take up a life of banditry?” Coilla guessed.
“What else can we do?” Trispeer replied shamefacedly. “Apart from mercenary work, and none of us fancy that.”
“That it should come to this for our kind,” she brooded. “Fucking humans.”
The corporal smiled. “It’s them we’ll concentrate on. An orc’s got to eat.”
“If that’s what you decide, don’t go too near Black Rock itself,” Stryke advised. “There’s kobolds there that aren’t too fond of orcs after we had a recent run-in with them.”
“We’ll remember that. Anyway, maybe it won’t be Black Rock, perhaps we’ll just go freelance and fight humans for the hell of it. We’ll see.”
“Need anything?” Haskeer asked. “Not that we got much food or water, but —”
“No, thanks, Sergeant. We’re fine for now.”
“Maybe you could use a little of this,” Stryke said. He dug out his pouch of pellucid. With his other hand he patted his jerkin, then drew the proclamation of the Wolverines’ renegade status from a pocket. It was all he had that was suitable. Somehow it seemed apt. He folded it to make a rudimentary bag and poured in an ample quantity of the drug. This he handed to the corporal.
“Thanks, Captain, that’s generous. Appreciate it.” He beamed. “You know the old saying: ‘Crystal gets you through times of no coin better than coin gets you through times of no crystal.’”
“Enjoy. Only use it wisely. It’s been a mixed blessing for us.”
Trispeer looked mystified by the comment but said nothing.
Stryke stretched out and offered the corporal a warrior’s handshake. “We’ve got to be moving on to Drogan. Good luck.”
“And to you. The gods be with you in whatever it is you’re doing. Watch your backs.”
He and his troopers saluted them, turned their horses and started galloping back more or less the way they had come.
As they watched them go, Coilla said, “They seemed like decent orcs.”
“I thought so too,” Jup agreed. “It’s a pity we couldn’t let them join us. You know, maybe we could use a few more swords.”
Stryke firmly crushed that. “No. Like I said, I’m carrying enough of a load as it is.”
“If what he said about you is true, Stryke,” Coilla mused, “you could be a rallying point for—”
“I don’t want to be no rallying point.”
Jup grinned and announced melodramatically, “Stryke, messiah!”
His commander just glared at him.
It was night when they arrived for the rendezvous.
Stryke wished he could have been more specific about where they were going to meet. He couldn’t, because none of them knew the area well enough. So they had to ride along the treeline bordering the inlet, in the dark, looking for their comrades.
Haskeer, as of old, was the first to complain. “I think we’re wasting our time. Why don’t we wait ’til morning?”
This time Coilla was inclined to agree with him. “There might be something in that. We need light.”
“We were late getting here,” Stryke said. “Least we can do is try looking for them. We’ll give it another hour. But I reckon we’re best dismounting.”
That gave Haskeer the opportunity for a bit more grumbling.
Leading their horses, they walked by the undergrowth that spread from the trees. They could hear the flow of water in the inlet, perhaps a hundred feet away.
“Maybe they didn’t get here,” Haskeer offered.
“What do you mean by that?” Jup asked.
“They were only half a band. Anything could have happened.”
“We’re only half a band,” Stryke reminded him, “and we got here.”
“Could be they went into Drogan to parley with the centaurs,” Coilla suggested.
“We’ll see. Now pipe down, all of you. There could be foes as well as friends about.”
They’d trudged in silence for another ten minutes when there was a rustle in the undergrowth. Swords were quietly drawn. A pair of shadowy figures emerged from the bushes.
“Eldo! Noskaa!” Coilla exclaimed.
Greetings were exchanged, weapons resheathed. Then the grunts led them into the thicket and to their camp.
Alfray came forward, beaming, and clasped Coilla’s arm. “Good to see you, Corporal! And Stryke, Jup!”
“I’m here too, you know,” Haskeer rumbled.
Alfray frowned at him. “Yes, well, you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“And it’ll be done,” Stryke promised. “Don’t be too hard on him. How was your journey here? What’s happening? Any developments?”
“Whoa!” Alfray grinned. “Journey more or less uneventful. Nothing much happening. No developments.”
“Well, we’ve got a lot to tell you,” Jup said.
“Come and eat, and rest. You look like you could use it.”
The band reunited. Grunts hailed each other. There was backslapping, warriors’ grips, laughter and chatter. Food and drink were issued, and they allowed themselves a fire to temper the cold. Sitting round it, they bartered news.
At length they discussed the centaurs.
“We’ve seen nothing of them,” Alfray reported. “Mind you, we haven’t ventured far into the forest. Thought it best to stick to your advice and just observe.”
“You did right,” Stryke confirmed.
“So how best to handle it?”
“Peaceable approach. We’ve no argument with centaurs. Anyway, they’re going to outnumber us and it’s their home ground.”
“Makes sense. Only don’t forget that though they’re slow to rouse, they can be unforgiving enemies.”
“That’s why we’ll go in under a flag of truce and offer a trade.”
“And if they won’t treat, what then?” Haskeer said.
“Then we’ll think about other ways. If that means hostile action, well, it’s what we’re trained for. But diplomacy first.” He gave his sergeant a pointed look. “And I won’t tolerate anybody in this band not toeing that line. We only fight if I say so, or if we’re attacked out of hand.”
With the exception of Haskeer, who said nothing, there was general agreement with that.
Alfray stretched his hands to the modest fire. Like everybody else’s, his breath was visibly misting. “This damn cold isn’t getting any less,” he complained.
Stryke pulled closer his jerkin and nodded. “We could be better kitted out than this standard issue.”
“We saw a small herd of lembarrs this morning. I was thinking of bagging a few for furs. They’re still quite plentiful in these parts, so we could cull a few without doing too much harm.”
“Good idea. Fresh meat too. Going into the forest at this hour isn’t wise; it could look like a raid. Let’s rise early, do some hunting, then get ourselves to Drogan.”
They were up at first light.
Stryke decided to lead the hunting party himself. Jup and Haskeer volunteered to go along. They picked Zoda, Hystykk, Gleadeg, Vobe, Bhose and Orbon to join them. It was a good number; split into two stalking groups it wasn’t too many to spook the prey, but enough to carry back the carcasses they’d need.
What they couldn’t take were horses. Lembarrs had both an uncanny ability to detect their approach and an aversion to the animals. The best way to put a lembarr to flight was to go anywhere near it on horseback. They had to be hunted on foot.
As they were about to set off, Alfray took Stryke aside. “I think you should leave the stars with me,” he said.
Stryke was taken aback. “Why?”
“The more we get, the more precious they are. What if something
happens to you on the hunt and they’re lost? Matter of fact, maybe we should do something similar to the crystal, like dividing them amongst the officers. Haskeer excepted, of course.”
“Well . . .”
“You think I’m going to do the same as Haskeer and run off with them? With two-thirds of the band around me?”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, old friend, you know that. But I’ve been thinking about what might have happened to Haskeer. Thinking about it a lot. Suppose it was an enchantment that made him act that way?”
“Cast by Jennesta, you mean?”
“She’s the most likely suspect.”
“Then what’s to stop her doing the same to you? If it was one of her spells, that’s an argument for leaving them here, isn’t it? ’Cause the first thing I’d do is issue an order for the others to keep an eye on me, and if I started acting strange they’d hog-tie me. That or cut me down.”
Stryke knew he meant it. “All right,” he agreed reluctantly. He unclipped the pouch and gave it to him. “But we’re going to have to give some thought to security for the future.”
“Right. Trust me. Now go and get us some winter outfits.”
18
In under an hour they were out on the plain and had sighted their first herd of lembarrs. They resembled small deer, and the males had antlers, but their build was much more robust. Their shaggy, abundant pelts, which were brown in colour and streaked with grey and white, were like bear fur, and almost as prized.
As the animals grazed unawares, the hunters split into two groups. Haskeer led four of the grunts. Their job was to act as beaters and drive the animals toward the second group for the kill. This group consisted of Stryke, Jup and the two remaining troopers.
The hunt started well. With the element of surprise on their side, they swiftly downed three lembarrs. After that, the quarry grew more wary and required some determined chasing. They were not exceptionally fleet beasts, and an orc could match their speed on the flat. It was when they got themselves into less certain terrain that the lembarrs’ agility gave them an edge.
Stryke found himself working as a backstop, well to the rear of his group, as Haskeer’s party stampeded half a dozen of the prey in their direction. Three took off at angles and were lost. Two bowled into Jup and the grunts, who proceeded to lay into them with spears and swords. The last slipped through and came Stryke’s way, running fit to burst.
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