Warriors of the Tempest

by Stan Nicholls

  'Yes. A good mission. And you were the best comrade an orc could have, old friend.'

  'I take . . . that as a . . . compliment to . . . be proud . . . of.' Now his lips were working but no sound came. Stryke leaned close and put his ear close to Alfray's mouth. Faintly he heard, 'Sword. . .'

  Stryke took his blade and pressed its grip into Alfray's trembling palm. He closed the fingers around it. Alfray gripped feebly and looked content. 'Remember the . . . old ways,' he rasped. 'Honour . . . the . . . traditions.'

  'We will,' Stryke promised. 'And your memory. Always.'

  The ground gave another bass rumble. Showers of plaster fell from the ceiling. Off to one side of the vast chamber Jennesta and her kin battled on in a blaze of supernatural radiance and flashing lights.

  Alfray's breath was thin and laboured. 'I will . . . drink . . . a toast to you . . . all . . . in the . . . halls of . . . Vartania.'

  Then his eyes closed for the last time.

  'No,' Coilla said. 'No, Alfray.' She started shaking him. 'We need you. Don't go, the band needs you. Alfray?'

  Stryke took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. 'He's . . . gone, Coilla. He's gone.'

  She stared at him, not seeming to comprehend.

  Orcs weren't supposed to be able to cry. It was something humans did. The mist filling her eyes belied that.

  Jup had his face in his hands. Haskeer's head was bowed. The grunts were struck dumb with the shock of grief.

  Stryke gently took back his sword. Then he looked up at the magical duel and rage began to return. They all felt it. But they felt impotence too. There was no way they dared intervene in the exchange of sorcery, nor could they pass it.

  No more than a minute later their quandary was resolved. Jennesta cried out. Her fiery magical shield flickered and died. She staggered, her head down, looking exhausted. Damp locks of ebony hair were plastered to her face.

  The enchanted, flaming buffer protecting Serapheim and Sanara vanished too, snuffed out like a candle. He darted the few steps separating them from Jennesta and seized her wrist. Drained by the efforts of their duel, she put up little resistance as he began dragging her toward the portal.

  Leaping to their feet, the band made to charge and vent their wrath on her.

  'No!' Serapheim bellowed. 'She's my daughter! I have a responsibility for all she's done! I'll deal with this myself!'

  Such was the force of his outburst that it stopped them in their tracks.

  They watched as Serapheim pulled her the last few feet to the portal's edge. As they arrived, she came to herself a little and realised where they were. Her eyes moved from the dancing grandeur of the portal's vortex to her father's face. She seemed to divine his intention, but she showed no fear.

  'You wouldn't dare,' she sneered.

  'Once, perhaps,' he returned, 'before the full horror of your wickedness was brought home to me. Not now.' Still holding her wrist in an iron grip, he thrust her hand near to the portal's cascading brilliance, the tips of her fingers almost in the flow. 'I brought you into this world. Now I'm taking you out of it. You should appreciate the symmetry of the act.'

  'You're a fool,' she hissed, 'you always were. And a coward. I have an army here. If anything happens to me, you'll die a death beyond your wildest imagination.' She flicked her gaze to Sanara. 'You both will.'

  'I don't care,' he told her.

  'Nor I,' Sanara backed him.

  'Some prices are worth paying to rid the world of evil,' Serapheim said, pushing her hand nearer the sparkling flux.

  She gazed into his eyes and knew he meant it. Her cocksure expression weakened somewhat then, and she began to struggle.

  'At least face your end with dignity,' he told her. 'Or is that too much to ask?'

  'Never.'

  He forced her hand into the vortex, then let go and retreated a pace.

  She squirmed and fought to pull her hand free but the gushing fountain of energy held it as sure as a vice. Then a change came upon the trapped flesh. Very slowly, it began to dissolve away, releasing itself as thousands of particles that flew into the swarm of stars and spiralled with them. The process increased a pace, the vortex gobbling up her wrist. Rapidly she was drawn in to the depth of her arm, which likewise disintegrated and scattered.

  The band was rooted, their expressions a mixture of horror and macabre fascination.

  Her leg had been sucked in now, and it was melting before their eyes. Strands of her hair followed, as though inhaled by an invisible giant. Jennesta's disintegration speeded up, her matter eaten into by the surging vortex at a faster and faster rate.

  When it began to consume her face she finally screamed. The sound was almost instantly cut off as the energy took the rest of her in several gulps. The last of her matter gyrated for a moment in the spinning energy field before it became nothingness.

  Serapheim looked as though he was going to faint. Sanara went to him and they embraced.

  Coilla punctured the awed silence. 'What happened to her?'

  Serapheim gathered himself. 'She made contact with the portal before it was set for a destination. She's either been torn apart by the titanic forces it contains or flung into another dimension. Either way, she's gone. Finished.'

  Stryke wasn't the only one who felt a pang of pity for him, despite their hatred of Jennesta. 'Is that how we'll go?' he asked.

  There was another rumble beneath their feet, deeper, longer than any before.

  'No, my friend. I will set the location. Your transition will be profound, but not like that. It will feel just like walking through a door.' He disengaged himself from Sanara. 'Come, there's no time to waste.'

  He made his way to one of the stones surrounding the portal and fiddled with the instrumentalities.

  'What about you?' Coilla said.

  'I will remain here in Maras-Dantia. Where else would I go? Here I can witness either the end of things or try to do some good if the land recovers from its blight.'

  All present knew that his real choice was death.

  'I will remain here also,' Sanara said. 'This is my world. For better or worse.' Tears stained her cheeks.

  The earth grumbled more persistently.

  'Come, Jup,' Serapheim urged. 'We'll send you to the domain of dwarfs first.'

  'No,' he said.

  'What?' Haskeer exclaimed.

  'This is the only world I know too. I've had no visions of a dwarf world. It sounds tempting, but who would I know there? I'd really be a stranger in a strange land.'

  'You won't change your mind?' Stryke asked.

  'No, Chief. I've given it a lot of thought. I'll stay here and take my chances.'

  Haskeer stepped forward. 'You sure, Jup?'

  'What's the matter, miss somebody to argue with?'

  'I'll always find somebody to do that with.' He regarded the dwarf for a moment. 'But it won't be the same.' They exchanged the warrior's clasp.

  'Then please take Sanara with you,' Serapheim said. 'Protect her for me.'

  Jup nodded. Then with a last look at the band he escorted Sanara from the chamber.

  'Now we must move with all speed,' Serapheim announced. 'Into the portal.'

  Everybody looked sheepish.

  'I promise you that no harm will befall any of you.'

  'On the double!' Stryke barked.

  Gleadeg stepped forward.

  'In you go,' Stryke told him. He added more softly, 'Have no fear, trooper.'

  The grunt took a breath and moved into the portal. Instantly he vanished.

  'Come on! Come on!' Stryke shouted. One by one, the remainder of the grunts passed through. Then it was Haskeer's turn. He leapt in, a battle cry on his lips. Coilla, taking a last look at Serapheim, and then turning her eyes to Stryke, went next.

  Stryke and Serapheim stood alone in the trembling chamber. 'Thank you,' the orc said.

  'It was the least I could do. Here.' He pushed the stars into his hand. 'Take these.'

  'Bu
t—'

  'I have no further need of them. You do with them as you will. But don't argue now!'

  Stryke accepted them.

  'Fare thee well, Stryke of the Wolverines.'

  'And you, Sorcerer.'

  He stepped to the lip of the vortex. The palace began to fall. Serapheim made no move to escape. Stryke hadn't thought he would. He lifted an arm and gave the human a clipped salute.

  There was a moment of chaos and transition. Somehow, perhaps via the dreadful power of the stars and their portal, he had a brief flashing vision of many wondrous things.

  He saw Aidan Galby, walking hand in hand with Jup and Sanara across a pastoral scene. He glimpsed Mercy Hobrow astride a unicorn. He knew again the allure of his orc homeland.

  His last thought was that the humans could have their world, and welcome to it.

  Then he turned and stepped into the light.