ORCS: Army of Shadows

by Stan Nicholls

  “I’ll drag him there if I have to.”

  “Right. Hey, before you go.” She leaned over and kissed him, then they dashed off in opposite directions.

  Standeven was sitting by the shore, throwing pebbles into the waves.

  Pepperdyne arrived, panting. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “The band are gathered up the beach there. I reckon they’re getting ready to leave.”

  “So what?”

  “So what? You want to be left behind?”

  “Hardly seems to matter.”

  “Are you insane? Stryke’s going to take us back home.”

  “Maybe he’s going to try.”

  “You’re scared of the transition, is that it?”

  Standeven flared indignantly, “How dare you imply —”

  “Oh, stow it. You’ve hardly proved yourself a hero on this little jaunt, have you? Cowardice’s a fair assumption.”

  “It’s not that.”

  Pepperdyne doubted it. “What, then?”

  “Suppose he does get us back. We’d be no better off, Hammrik’s going to be on our trail again, and Stryke will still have the instrumentalities.”

  “That again, is it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The stars. You’ve become obsessed with them. We can sort out the situation with Hammrik, if only by getting as far away from him as possible, but you have to have the stars. Is there a limit to your greed?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “What, then?”

  “I just think… I think they’d be better with me.”

  “The instrumentalities would be better with you,” Pepperdyne repeated incredulously.

  Standeven nodded.

  “You have gone crazy.”

  “It’s hard to explain. I —”

  “Don’t even try. We’ve no time for your ravings. On your feet.”

  He stayed where he was.

  “If we don’t get to the band right now,” Pepperdyne warned him, “we’re going to spend the rest of our lives in this place.”

  “Suits me. But then, you wouldn’t be with your little friend, would you?”

  “What?”

  “Coilla. Grown close, haven’t you? But you should have a care. The others don’t like it. Stryke’s certainly not keen. Do you think he might have ambitions in that direction himself? After all —”

  “Right, that does it.” Pepperdyne grabbed hold of his one-time master and bodily hauled him up.

  “Take your filthy hands off me, you —”

  Pepperdyne punched him in the solar plexus, hard. Standeven doubled, gasping. Pepperdyne took hold of his arms and began frog-marching him along the beach.

  Jup was just finishing the roll call when Coilla turned up. She was breathless.

  “Where’ve you been?” Stryke demanded.

  “Sorry,” she gasped. “Didn’t… know we… were supposed… to be here.”

  “You would if you’d stuck around. Where were you?”

  “Just… taking a walk.”

  She got some odd looks for that.

  “Picking wildflowers?” Haskeer mocked.

  Coilla glared at him. “I was taking a last look at the island. That all right with you?”

  Haskeer shrugged.

  “You seen the humans?” Stryke asked her.

  “Jode and Standeven?”

  “Know of any others tagging along with us?”

  “Oh, right. No. Er, yes.”

  “Which is it?”

  “I saw them back there. Just briefly. They’re coming.”

  “They’d better be quick.”

  “Here they are!” one of the grunts shouted.

  The pair of humans were hurrying their way. Pepperdyne was no longer propelling Standeven, though the latter was limping and looked rough.

  “Sorry, Stryke,” Pepperdyne said.

  “Let’s do this, shall we?” He took in their expectant, and in some cases apprehensive, faces as he dug out the instrumentalities and the amulet.

  “Try to get it right this time,” Haskeer muttered.

  Stryke shot him a murderous glance. “I’ve been studying the markings for most of the day. It’ll be done right.” He started to assemble the stars.

  Everybody gathered round and watched him carefully slot together all but one of the artefacts.

  “Right,” he said, “brace yourselves.”

  Coilla and Pepperdyne exchanged a furtive look. Jup and Spurral linked hands. Dallog gave Wheam’s trembling shoulder a supportive squeeze. Standeven wore an expression similar to a cornered rodent’s. Everybody tensed.

  Stryke began easing the fifth and final star into place.

  There were shouts and screams. Along the beach, dwarfs were scattering in panic. The source of their terror was a ship that seemed to have appeared without any of the band noticing.

  “Ah, fuck,” Haskeer cursed, “not again!”

  Stryke stayed his hand.

  “Do it!” Haskeer urged.

  Stryke removed the fifth star.

  “What you doing?”

  “We’ve got company.” He nodded at the ship.

  “You mean they have.”

  Stryke glanced at the running dwarfs. “We don’t abandon comrades.”

  “For the gods’ sake, Stryke!”

  “We’re not leaving. Not ‘til we know what this is.”

  “Recognise that ship?” Pepperdyne said. “It’s the same bunch that attacked us earlier.”

  “Remember what they did to us last time, Stryke,” Coilla warned. “They’ve got strong magic.”

  “Still,” he replied calmly, “don’t you want to know who they are?”

  “No!” Haskeer protested.

  “Just because you want to dodge a fight —” Coilla began.

  Haskeer bridled. “Who you accusing of —”

  “Button it,” Stryke growled. “This isn’t the time.” He put away the stars and stuffed the amulet back down his shirt.

  Kalgeck arrived at a sprint. He made straight for Spurral. “Is it them? Have they come back?”

  “The Gatherers?” she said. “No, it’s not them. You know it can’t be. But they’re as deadly in a different way. Get your kin clear of the beach.”

  “They’re already doing that. I want to fight.”

  “Not this time, Kalgeck. We’re facing something too powerful.”

  “Then why not use the trebuchets?” He pointed to the volcano.

  “Of course!” Coilla exclaimed. “The catapults. Stryke?”

  “It’s a good idea. Let’s get up there.”

  “Catapults ain’t going to dent those bastards,” Haskeer grumbled.

  “Come on!” Coilla yelled.

  “You get to cover!” Spurral sternly instructed Kalgeck.

  The band dashed for the path leading to the ledge on the mountainside. All but Standeven, who under cover of the uproar slunk away.

  When they got to the line of catapults they immediately began to prime them, working with an efficiency born of much experience.

  “We don’t know how far their magic can reach,” Dallog said. “We could be sitting targets up here.”

  “All weapons have a limit,” Stryke reminded him.

  “Even magical ones?”

  Stryke ignored that and continued barking orders.

  The ship was at the shoreline when the first volley of heavy rocks was unleashed. All fell short, but close, making great splashes that swamped the ship’s deck. The next battery was better aimed.

  A rock crashed into the side of the ship, demolishing a large section of the rail. Seconds later another struck one of the masts, neatly severing it. Timber and sails fell in a jumble.

  Something like a slow lightning bolt issued from the ship. Purple and crackling, it flashed to one of the catapults and blew it to bits. Orcs were thrown back by the impact.

  “Casualties?” Stryke roared.

  Dallog dashed around
checking. “Nothing bad!” he yelled back.

  The arms of several catapults went up and over, launching another cascade. They were all misses, some very near, others soaring over the ship and splattering down on its far side.

  This time there was a different response from the ship. What emanated from it was a sort of pattern, similar to ripples in a pond, only travelling through the air. Like the lightning bolt it travelled fast, but not so rapidly that the band didn’t have the chance to flatten themselves. The ripples, alternately black and glowing gold, wiped out all the catapults, shredding them to splinters in a deafening cacophony.

  “So much for being out of range,” Haskeer complained.

  Coilla pointed. “Look! They’re coming ashore!”

  A small flotilla of boats were heading for the beach.

  “It’s fight-or-run time,” Stryke announced.

  “We don’t do run,” Coilla reminded him.

  “So let’s meet ‘em, shall we?”

  He gave out a battle cry and they followed him down.

  27

  If the Wolverines thought they would engage the strangers conventionally they were soon disabused of the notion.

  Even before the group of boats hit the beach their multiracial occupants were on the offensive. Variously coloured beams of intense energy flared. Bolts struck the sand, throwing up clouds and gouging deep pits. They seemed to be shots designed to get the firers’ eye in. The next round came a lot closer to the band.

  On Stryke’s order they ran to shelter behind a scattering of large rocks occupying the space between beach and island proper.

  The Wolverines replied with arrows, some flaming. They were sticks against a hurricane. Some of the bolts were obliterated by piercing energy shafts. Others simply evaporated before they got near their targets. The orcs saw that this was because an almost invisible energy shield of some sort shimmered around the beings wading ashore.

  “We’re not touching ‘em,” Coilla said.

  “At this rate we’ll be overrun,” Dallog warned. “What’ll we do, Stryke?”

  “Maybe we’ll have better luck hand to hand with them.”

  “Dream on,” Haskeer growled. “Those wizards are too powerful for steel to make any headway. Use the stars and get us out of here.”

  “No. Even if I wanted to, the band’s scattered all over the place. We’d leave half our strength behind.”

  “Here they come!” Coilla shouted.

  A good dozen of the attackers were drawing close. Pelli Madayar was at their head. Behind her tramped a colourful assortment of elder races.

  “There’s a couple of fucking goblins with ‘em!” Haskeer exclaimed.

  “Should have known those bastards would have something to do with this,” Jup snapped.

  The advancing party were still spraying the area with their magic beams.

  “Ready to engage!” Stryke ordered.

  Orcs drew second weapons, nocked bows and primed slingshots.

  When they were no more than ten paces distant, Pelli Madayar held up her hand. The group stopped, as did the bombardment.

  “We don’t have to do this, Stryke!” she called out.

  Ignoring the others’ gestures to stay put, Stryke stepped out from behind the rock. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “We’re not your enemies, whatever you think. You know what we want. The instrumentalities, that’s all.”

  “All?”

  “You can save yourselves further grief very simply. Just hand them over.”

  “Like hell we will.”

  “You have no right to them.”

  “And you do?”

  “Morally… yes.”

  “Fancy words from somebody who just tried to kill us.”

  “We weren’t trying. Look, if you’re worried that giving up the artefacts means we’ll leave you stranded here, don’t be. Maybe I can arrange to have your sent to your home world.”

  “Maybe? That doesn’t sound too promising to me.”

  “I have to consult a higher authority.”

  “This is my higher authority,” Stryke told her, holding up his sword. “And it says no.”

  “Be sensible. What you’ve just seen is only a taste of the power we command. If we turned it on you full force you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “We’ll play those odds.”

  Pelli sighed. “This is so pointless. Why are you so intent on wasting your lives for the sake of —” She stopped, as though hearing a voice no one else heard. Then she turned to look out to sea.

  A small armada of ships were making for shore.

  All of the strangers turned to look, contemptuously offering their backs to the Wolverines. The band, too, came out from their shelter and stared.

  “This place is as busy as a whorehouse on payday,” Haskeer muttered.

  It was obvious that the arrival was as much of a surprise to the strangers as it was to the orcs.

  Feeling as though he’d been virtually dismissed, Stryke backed off and rejoined his crew.

  “Who the hell’s knocking at the door now?” Coilla said.

  “I don’t know. More Gatherers?”

  “No,” Pepperdyne told them. “Definitely not Gatherers. Look!”

  One of the fleet of five ships was engaging with the strangers’ vessel. And it was doing it magically. Vividly hued beams shot from craft to craft.

  Seemingly having forgotten the Wolverines, Pelli and her ill-assorted group began jogging towards the shoreline. Before they reached the waves they were sending out shafts of their own.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Haskeer demanded.

  “Looks like our enemy has an enemy,” Stryke replied.

  “Which would be fine,” Jup pointed out, “if our enemy’s enemy wasn’t our enemy too.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Take a look at that ship coming into shore, the leading one. It’s prow-on. See? Now do you notice somebody standing there, right at the front, bold as shit?”

  “Yeah,” Haskeer said, blinking and with a hand shading his brow.

  “Recognise who it is?”

  It was Coilla who answered. “Jennesta,” she whispered.

  28

  “I thought the stars were supposed to be incredibly rare,” Coilla said, “but it looks as though everybody’s got them.”

  “Maybe we’ve just run into everybody who has got them,” Pepperdyne suggested.

  Down on the beach the magical battle raged. The new arrivals had sent in boats of their own. They were running a shuttle, dropping troops off in shallow water and going back for more. The soldiers were Jennesta’s human followers, along with a much smaller number of her zombie personal guard. But they seemed no more able to overcome the strangers’ magic than the orcs were. That was for Jennesta. Ashore now, and sweeping majestically up the beach, she was essentially waging the war single-handedly and, considering her opponents’ might, making a good job of it.

  Stryke figured that if they couldn’t fight the strangers’ magic, they could fight Jennesta’s army. As there was no way to escape, he argued, they could at least kill something.

  At first it went well. They charged into the fray and gave a good account of themselves, downing troops and hacking zombies to pieces. But it didn’t take long for both Jennesta and the strangers to notice them. A bombardment of enchantments forced the band to retreat. Though Stryke wasn’t alone in thinking that, vicious as their magic was, neither side was actually trying too hard to kill them.

  The band pulled back to the edge of the beach and the shelter of rocks.

  “The stars!” Haskeer pleaded. “Use ‘em now!”

  “Lay off!” Stryke snapped. “Coilla! Are we all here?”

  “No. We’re missing Dallog, Wheam and a couple of the other tyros.”

  “Bloody typical,” Haskeer moaned.

  “I’ll go and look for them,” Stryke decided.

  “I’ll come with you,” Coill
a told him. “No, no argument. You’ll need somebody to watch your back.”

  “All right.”

  “Me too,” Pepperdyne said.

  “No,” said Stryke.

  “Going to stop me?”

  “If I have to. But better that you stay here and help hold our position.”

  “But —”

  “Do it, Jode,” Coilla said. “I’ll… We’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re going,” Haskeer grated, “you better get a fucking move on.”

  Stryke tossed his head. “Come on.”

  They ran towards the scrum.

  The bodies barring their way were all human or zombie. The wizardry was taking place farther down the beach, at the water’s edge. But soldiers and the undead were still a formidable obstacle.

  Stryke and Coilla hacked, slashed, stabbed and battered their way through them. They had a few errant energy bolts to dodge on the way. Some of Jennesta’s horde weren’t so lucky.

  “I see ‘em!” Coilla yelled. She pointed.

  Dallog and a couple of tyros were slugging it out with twice their number of soldiers.

  Coilla and Stryke fought their way to them.

  Their blades quickly turned the tide. A bloody exchange saw the attackers overcome.

  “Where’s Wheam, Dallog?” Stryke asked.

  “Down there!”

  Further along the beach, Wheam was trying to hold off a pair of zombies. He had his new musical instrument strapped to his back, and looked more worried about protecting it than about himself.

  “I’ll get him,” Stryke said.

  “We’ll come!” Coilla and Dallog chorused.

  “No. I’ll not have the band scattered again. Get yourselves back to the others. Now.”

  They left reluctantly. He plunged back into the fray.

  Coilla, Dallog and the tyros had as tough a path to travel on the way back as she and Stryke had had on the way out. The troops seemed to be everywhere, and none left them unchallenged. By the time their goal was in sight, their blades ran with gore.

  “Can you make it alone from here, Dallog?” Coilla said.

  “’Course.”

  “Get on then.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going after Stryke.”

  “But he said —”

  “Just get these two back, all right?” She ran off.

  Stryke came at one of the zombies from the back and ran it through. True to experience it hardly registered the blow. So he took to chopping at it, as though he were felling a dead tree. When enough major damage had been inflicted the armless creature hopped on its one leg for an instant, then collapsed. The second zombie Stryke simply decapitated, sending its head bouncing in the blood-soaked sand.