Orcs (77 page)

“Even orcs need to sleep, and these are anxious times. And we’re no threat, you have my word on that. We’d even be prepared to give up our weapons.”

That seemed to tilt the balance.

“That’s not an easy offer for an orc to make, I think,” the officer said. “You can keep your weapons. But be warned that trickery will be met by force.” He pointed up at one of the watchtowers, then another on the opposite side of the gates. Several archers stood in each, bows notched. “Your movements will be shadowed, and they have orders to cut you down at any sign of violence.” He gave a light, almost apologetic smile. “You’ll understand the need for our caution.”

“Of course. Like I said, anxious times.”

The officer nodded. Then he led them into the settlement.

“That’s a promising start,” Coilla whispered.

Before Stryke could answer, they were facing another welcoming committee. It consisted of two humans they took to be elders, and a straight-backed military type whose triple green arm patches implied high rank.

One of the elders stepped forward. “I’m Councilman Traylor, this is Councilman Yandell. Greetings. And Commander Rellston here leads our armed forces.”

The Commander didn’t speak or even break a smile. He was in his prime, as far as the orcs could tell when it came to humans, with the beginnings of grey in his hair and full blond beard. His bearing, manner and weathered features spoke of a life as a soldier. He surveyed them with hard eyes.

Stryke remembered himself and responded. “Greetings. I’m Stryke. These are some of my officers. Thank you for making us welcome.”

Rellston snorted. “You’re the Wolverines, right?” It wasn’t really a question.

There seemed no point denying it. “Yes.”

“I’ve heard you’ve been causing trouble in various parts.”

“We don’t go looking for it, and any we’ve caused has been with Unis.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it wouldn’t have done to be totally honest.

“Maybe so,” Rellston replied sceptically. “Let me tell you that trouble isn’t something we encourage here. We try to live peaceable, and regard our neighbours, but at the end of the day we just want to be left alone. Anybody bringing us strife, particularly if they’re of another . . . race, gets dealt with.”

Stryke was glad Haskeer wasn’t with them. The gods knew how he’d react to the Commander’s pomposity and attitude. “We’re here with no bad designs,” he assured him. Thinking of the star he knew that to be at least half a lie.

“What do you want of us?”

“Nothing that will do you harm.”

“To be specific?”

“We only need to rest in a safe place. We won’t even ask for provisions or water.”

“Nevertheless, this isn’t a haven for charity cases.”

“Remember we fight for the same cause.”

“That’s debatable.”

Stryke didn’t take the hook. In any event the Commander was more or less right.

Before anything else could be said they were joined by two more humans, an adult female and a boy child.

She was tall and slim, with long black hair, its glossy locks enfolded by a headband studded with discreet opalescent gems. Her complexion was peachy, her eyes cobalt blue. They matched her golden-corded robe and the patterning on her soft suede boots. Her face was open and seemed kindly. In so far as orcs and dwarfs could judge such things, she would be considered handsome by her kind.

Traylor said, “This is Krista Galby, our High Priestess.”

Stryke named himself for her. She held out a hand. The gesture almost startled him, unused as he was to human customs. But he took it, careful not to squeeze her slender, elegant fingers too hard, and shook. The hand was soft and warm, and quite unlike the healthy, rough clamminess of an orc’s touch. Diplomatically he hid his distaste.

“These are some of the famous Wolverines,” Traylor informed her.

“Indeed?” the priestess responded. “You have bloodied a few noses in recent times.”

“Only ones we found stuck in our business,” Coilla said.

Krista laughed. It sounded genuine, unforced. “Well said! Although of course I do not approve of violent behaviour.” She added, “Unless strictly justified.”

Coilla, Alfray and Jup were introduced as Rellston looked on disapprovingly. Then Krista laid a tender hand on the boy’s head, ruffling his ebony hair and drawing a shy smile from him. “This is my son, Aidan.”

There was no mistaking that he was her offspring, even to orc eyes. He shared his mother’s likeness and her comely features. Stryke reckoned him to be seven or eight seasons old.

He noticed also that Krista Galby obviously had authority here. The others, even the Commander in his surly way, acted deferentially to her.

“What is the purpose of your visit?” she asked.

Stryke didn’t get the chance to explain as Councilman Yandell spoke then, for the first time. “Stryke and his company wish our protection.” He glanced Rellston’s way. “The Commander has some reservations on the matter.”

“He is right to be prudent about our security,” she replied tactfully, “and as ever we are all grateful for his vigilance.”

Stryke suspected he was witnessing a play-off between the spiritual and temporal powers in this place. He thought she was handling it well.

“But I see no reason to doubt the good intentions of our guests,” she went on, “and it is a principle of our community that we welcome all who come without malice.”

The pair of elders nodded in agreement.

“You would have them stay without limit?” Rellston queried.

“I would have them benefit from the usual custom, Commander, and enjoy our hospitality for a day. I’ll take responsibility for them. Is that acceptable to you, Captain?”

“It’s all we need,” Stryke confirmed.

The elders made their excuses, stating that there was much work to be overseen, and left.

Rellston lingered. “Do you require an escort, ma’am?” he asked pointedly.

“No, Commander, that won’t be necessary.”

With a parting glare he moved off.

“You must forgive him,” she told the Wolverines. “Rellston is a good military man but he lacks . . . shall we say a rapport with other races. We aren’t all like that.”

Coilla changed the subject. “There seems to be so much activity here. Can we ask what’s going on?”

The High Priestess pointed in the direction of the magic geyser, its upper plume visible above the rooftops. “All we do revolves around that.”

“When did it start?” Alfray wanted to know.

“There was a small escape when the community was established some years ago, when I was no older than Aidan here. It’s the reason the founders chose this place. Just lately the cleft has grown to what you see now.”

“The escape of so much energy must be bad for the land,” Jup remarked.

“Very bad. But we’ve never found a way to cap it. So we’ve turned to another solution.”

“What might that be?”

She looked at them for a moment, seeming to weigh things in her mind. “I’ll show you,” she decided. To her son, she said, “Aidan, back to your studies.” It was obvious he would have preferred to stay, but under her beaming gaze he obeyed. They watched as he ran into the settlement’s jumble of streets.

Krista headed the Wolverines in a different direction.

As they walked, Jup, in an undertone, said, “Just a day . . .”

Stryke gave a small nod. He knew full well they needed to work fast to achieve their aim in that short a time.

The High Priestess led them toward the heart of the settlement. On the way they were the object of curiosity, but no overt hostility. Then they took a path that fetched up at the half-built temple.

It was an imposing structure, even unfinished. The material being used for facing was marble, as they’d suspected, and the pillars on either side of the entrance, six in all, were as tall as mature oaks. A flight of broad steps swept up to the great double-door entrance, which was guarded by troopers with pikes. The interior was lit by lamps and brands, and there was a hint of that most precious material, stained glass. Hundreds of men and women swarmed in and out of the building, and over the wooden scaffolding encasing it. Wagons lined up to deliver their loads.

“I’m sorry,” Krista apologised, “but we aren’t allowing anyone in unless engaged in the construction work. Visitors would only slow things down.”

Stryke suspected that wasn’t the main reason.

“It’s an amazing achievement,” Alfray marvelled, straining his neck to take in the uncompleted domed roof.

“We’re very proud of it,” she answered. “Do you know anything about our system here?”

Jup spoke for all of them. “Nothing beyond you being Manis and sharing our loyalty to the true gods, and a respect for Nature.”

“Yes, that’s right. But here in Ruffetts we’ve melded some of our own traditions to that. Our belief is that creation functions as a triad. On a secular level, that’s how we govern ourselves, with major decisions made by a board of Citizenry, Military and Priesthood. The dictum of a trinity upholds our spiritual life too. We call them Harmony, Knowledge and Power.” She nodded at the temple. “This is Knowledge. Come and see Harmony and Power.”

Intrigued, they followed her, taking a southward avenue.

At length they came to the middle clearing and its circle of blue stones. Up close, their true enormity came home to them.

But the magic geyser at the circle’s centre was much more impressive.

“The energy’s strong here,” Jup said. “Very strong. I can almost
taste
it.”

Stryke thought he could too, like he’d been sucking a chunk of metal. He had goosebumps all over his flesh, and was aware of a faint ringing in his ears. But orcs weren’t supposed to be susceptible to the magic, and neither Alfray nor Coilla commented on any effects, so he kept his counsel.

“This is Harmony,” Krista explained. “These particular stones have a certain . . . property. I admit we don’t really understand what it is. We do know they can attract and direct the earth energy.” She indicated the pyramid. “Then it goes there, to Power, to be stored.”

“And you’ve done this?” Jup asked.

A slightly downcast expression passed across the Priestess’ face. “Not yet. But we think we’re close. The earth energy is a mysterious force. We know so little about it.”

“Perhaps that’s all the more reason not to mess with it.”

“I agree, and I know it was us incomers who have caused the problem. Or the Unis, rather, and their meddling with the power lines.”

“I meant no offence.”

“I take none. But believe me, here at least we are trying to heal the land and restore its power. We feel responsible for what humans generally have done.”

“Then this is an enterprise to be supported,” Alfray reckoned.

“We believe that all races can live together, and work harmoniously with Nature. I know this seems an absurd dream in the present climate.”

“That it does, ma’am,” the dwarf agreed.

“But it’s no reason not to try,” Coilla butted in. “We all have a dream to chase.”

Krista picked up the implication in her words. “Well, I hope you catch whatever dreams you’re after.” Her tone was sincere.

For the Wolverines, a sympathetic human was a rare experience. None of them knew quite how to react.

“What’s life without a dream?” Coilla said.

Krista smiled at her. “That’s how we see it.”

Outside, the rest of the Wolverines and the orc deserters were growing restive. It helped when some Mani guardsmen, along with a few citizens, came out to pass the time of day and distribute a little food and ale. But the troopers were still frustrated by having to kick their heels.

The end of their hiatus was at hand, had they known it.

One of several lookouts on top of the adjacent hill began shouting and frantically waving his arms. Then the others joined in. They were just a bit too far away, and the wind was just a bit too intrusive, for their words to be clear.

Haskeer turned to one of the grunts standing nearby. “What they saying, Eldo?”

He shrugged. “Dunno, sir.”

Cupping an ear, Haskeer tried listening again. None the wiser, he started bellowing back. The lookouts gave up and began pelting down the hill.

The first to arrive was gasping for breath.
“Riders. Lots . . . of . . . riders. Coming . . . valley.”

“What are they?” Haskeer barked.

“Black . . . shirts. Hundreds.”

“Shit! Hobrow’s men!
Krenad!
Get over here!”

The corporal dashed to him.

“I thought you said they were behind Jennesta!”

“So they were, Sergeant!”

“You’re saying Unis are coming?” a Mani guard caught on.

“Yes,” Haskeer told him. “Custodians, out of Trinity.”

“
Hell
. We have to get everybody inside and raise the alarm.”

“Right! Eldo, Vobe, Orbon! Get everybody through those gates, on the double!”

As the grunts ran to spread the word, the Mani said, “We’ve got to go in on foot! If we ride in, we’ll spread panic!”

“What?”

“My people will think you’re attacking!” he explained impatiently.

“Got it.” He put his hands to his mouth.
“Walk the horses! No riding in! Walk your horses!”

There was a rush for the gates.

Stryke and Krista were discussing how best to bring in their waiting troopers when they were interrupted by a distant commotion. Then a bell began ringing. One by one, others took up the peal all over the settlement.

“The alarm!” she exclaimed. “We’re under attack!”

“But who—?” Coilla began. The arrival of the Commander on horseback cut her short.

“What is it, Rellston?” Krista called out. “What’s happening?”

“
Unis!
Approaching at speed!” He scowled at the band. “Looks like treachery to me!”

“No!” Stryke protested. “Why would we be plotting with Unis? This has nothing to do with us.”

“So you say.”

“Use your head, Commander!” Krista intervened. “If our guests were hostile they’d hardly present themselves as hostages.”

“Are these humans black-clad?” Alfray asked.

“Yes,” Rellston replied.

“Custodians. Kimball Hobrow’s followers.”