Orcs:Bad blood o-1 Read online

"No offence taken. I remember how I felt when I first saw an orc."

  "You didn't think we were as revolting as humans, did you?" Wheam piped up.

  Jup smiled. "Nowhere near. Though the storytellers would have us believe you ate the flesh of your own kind, among other things."

  " I'm a balladeer," Wheam declared proudly.

  "I noticed the lute."

  "That's putting it a bit grandly," Stryke said. " Hoping to be would give a better account."

  "I can prove it," Wheam protested. "I could sing something."

  "Oh gods," Haskeer groaned. He upended his empty tankard. "More drink."

  "That we do have," Jup told him, beckoning a female dwarf carrying a laden tray.

  She was fair of form, as far as the orcs could judge. Her skin was smooth as ceramic, and her long auburn hair was woven in plaits. She was hale, and though powerfully built she moved with graceful ease, for a dwarf.

  Putting down the tray, she leaned over and kissed Jup. The clinch was lingering.

  "Now that's what I call service," Coilla remarked.

  The pair disentangled themselves.

  "Sorry," Jup said. "This is Spurral."

  "Somebody… special?" Stryke asked.

  "She's my cohort." He saw they didn't grasp what he was saying. "My other half. Perpetual companion, mate, partner. Spouse."

  "You were right," Stryke said, "things really have changed."

  Coilla smiled. "Good on you both."

  Haskeer lowered his tankard. "Hell, I never thought you'd let yourself be tied down, Jup. Hard luck."

  "You must be Coilla." Spurral smiled at her. "And you're Stryke."

  "Good guess."

  "Oh, I've heard a lot about you all." The smile faded. "And you just have to be Haskeer."

  Haskeer bobbed his tankard at her and downed more ale.

  "Spurral and me have known each other since we were kids," Jup explained. "When I got back here it just seemed right that we made it kind of official."

  "So two proud dwarf families were joined," Spurral added. "Me being a Gorbulew and Jup a Pinchpot."

  Haskeer choked on his beer. "You're right about that!" he spluttered.

  "Pinchpot," Jup repeated through grated teeth. " Pinch pot."

  Haskeer rocked with mirth. "So you," he pointed at a stony-faced Spurral, "… you stopped being a… Gorbulew and… became a pis — "

  " Haskeer," Jup growled ominously.

  "Talk about learning something new every day," Haskeer ploughed on, hugely amused and insensible to their sour expressions. "You never told us you were a… Pinchpot."

  "I wonder why," Spurral remarked dryly.

  "That's enough, Haskeer," Stryke cautioned, a note of menace in his voice.

  "Come on. I know getting hitched can kill your sense of humour, but — "

  "We're guests here. Be mindful of it."

  Haskeer sobered. "Seems to me there was no point in our coming."

  "How's that again?" Jup said.

  "Can't see you joining us, what with you having a mate and all. It was a wasted journey."

  Jup and Spurral exchanged glances.

  "Not necessarily," Jup said.

  Coilla swept her arm to indicate the throng of dwarfs in the clearing. "I thought you stayed here because of them."

  "Given the choice of spending your life with another race or your own, wouldn't you?"

  "You could have been sent to the dwarfs' home world. Serapheim offered."

  "I wouldn't have known anybody there either."

  "So why the change of heart?"

  "I never thought I'd say it, but I want to get away from here. The time's come."

  "You can see this land's dying," Spurral said, "and our folk along with it. Did you get a close look at our tribe? Almost all are old, lame or infirm."

  Jup shrugged. "We don't want to leave, but — "

  "We?" Stryke said.

  "There's no way I'm going without Spurral."

  "That complicates things, Jup."

  "Why should it? Unless you've got a problem with dwarfs in the band."

  "You know it's not that. But we've no idea what we're going into, except it'll be dangerous."

  "I can look after myself," Spurral protested. "Or is it taking females along that you don't like?"

  "In case you hadn't noticed," Coilla told her, "I'm a female myself. What's important is being able to fight."

  More than one pair of eyes flashed to Wheam.

  "Spurral's a good fighter," Jup replied. "She's had to be."

  "You're not going to shift on this, are you?" Stryke said.

  "Nope. It's both or neither."

  "I'm running this band just like I did in the old days, as a tight unit. Everybody in it takes orders."

  "We've no gripes with that."

  "Don't say you're going along with this, Stryke," Haskeer complained.

  "I make decisions about the band, not you."

  "Then don't make a bad one. We're carrying enough dead wood as it is, and — "

  "Didn't Stryke just say you all obey orders?" Spurral interrupted. "Doesn't sound like it to me."

  "Stay out of this."

  "This is about me!"

  "Call her off, Jup," Haskeer snarled.

  "She can fight her own battles."

  "Yeah," Spurral confirmed, squaring up to Haskeer. "Want to put your fists where your mouth is?"

  "I don't hit females."

  Coilla laughed. "Since when?"

  " That's enough," Stryke decided. "Haskeer, shut your mouth. Jup, Spurral; back off. Everybody, sit down." They settled. "That's better. I'll think about Spurral, Jup. All right?"

  "That's all we're asking for."

  "So let it rest."

  "Yes. This should be a celebration. More drinks." He reached for a jug and topped up their cups. "And we have a little pellucid if anybody's — "

  "Oh, no. Not after the last time. Mission first, pleasure later."

  Haskeer mumbled, "Shit."

  "What about that song then?" Jup suggested. "Wheam?"

  Coilla rolled her eyes. "Gods, must we?"

  But Wheam had his lute in his hands. "This might be a little rough. I'm still polishing it." He began strumming. "The Wolverines, that dauntless band, Fought their way across the land They beat a path through rain and mud And left their rivals in pools of blood They met rank fiends in battles dire And sent them to eternal fire No demons grim or human waves Could overcome the Wolverines' blades They came to where the dwarfs did dwell And saw that they had not fared well But still their welcome was quite fulsome And hospitality was truly awesome."

  "Shall I kill him or will you?" Spurral asked Jup.

  "Here's the chorus," Wheam declared, upping the tempo of his discordant plucking. "We are the Wolverines! Marching to foil evil schemes! Fleet of foot and strong of arm! We — "

  "Well, it's getting late," Stryke announced loudly.

  Wheam came to a grating halt. "But I haven' t — "

  "Been a long day," Coilla added, stretching.

  "Sure has," Jup agreed, "and a big day tomorrow."

  Wheam's face dropped. "You never let me fin — "

  "Turn in or I'll break that fucking string box over your head," Haskeer promised.

  "Time we all hit the sack then," Dallog said, taking Wheam's arm.

  "We set off in the morning," Stryke told them. "Early."

  They dispersed to their various billets, with most of the privates making for a couple of long houses. Jup and Spurral led Stryke, Haskeer and Coilla to a pair of much smaller huts.

  "Stryke," Jup said, "you and Haskeer are going to have to share this one." He pushed open the door.

  Striding in, Haskeer cracked his head on the top of the door frame. He let out a stream of curses.

  Spurral covered her mouth to stifle her glee.

  "Don't forget everything's dwarf scale," Jup added.

  "Thanks for reminding me," Haskeer retorted. He looked around the poky room and notice
d the cots. "That goes for the beds too, does it? These are only fit for hatchlings."

  "We'll sleep on the floor," Stryke told him. "And if you snore I'll kill you."

  "We'll leave you to it," Jup said. "You'll let us know about Spurral, Stryke?"

  "In the morning."

  Coilla was taken to the adjoining hut.

  Spurral ushered her in. "You get this one all to yourself. Though the bed's no bigger."

  "I don't care. I could sleep on a rack of knives."

  They left her stripping blankets and tossing them on the floor.

  Coilla was so tired she didn't even bother taking off her boots. As soon as she stretched out, she was asleep.

  There was only the black velvet of oblivion. Mindless, timeless. All embracing.

  The first frail light of dawn seeped in through the cracks around the door and window shutters.

  She stirred.

  Instantly, she knew she wasn't alone. A figure loomed over her. She tried to move.

  The cold edge of a steel blade pressed against her flesh.

  And an unmistakably human voice whispered, "Don't make me cut your throat."

  11

  "If you're going to do it, get it over with," Coilla said, the blade tight against her throat.

  "We don't want to hurt you."

  "We?"

  "I'm not alone."

  Out of the corner of her eye she was aware of someone else skulking in the shadows.

  "We're just trying to help you," the human added.

  "You've a funny way of showing it." Coilla's fingers snaked towards her own knife.

  "I didn't want you bawling the place down and bringing the others in here." He grabbed her hand, then wrenched her knife from its sheath and tossed it aside. "Or getting any bright ideas."

  "Who are you?"

  "Long story."

  "Why would your kind help an orc?"

  "Another long story."

  "Not much of a talker, are you?"

  "There's no time. This place's about to be attacked. But you might be able to do something about it if you can get your forces mustered."

  "Why should I believe that?"

  "We've seen what's massing out there. Take my word."

  "A human's word?"

  "How could warning you be a trap? Look, if I take this knife away are you going to behave?"

  Coilla nodded.

  He removed the blade and backed off.

  She lay still. "At least let me see you."

  The human fumbled for a moment before sparks were struck and a candle lit.

  As far as Coilla could tell with humans, he seemed in his prime. He certainly looked fit. His mass of hair was blond, but he had none of the facial growth many of his race favoured.

  He moved the candle. The circle of flickering light showed the other man's features. He was older, and had the build of someone used to sloth. There was grey in his thinning black hair and tightly trimmed beard. His pallid skin had a sheen of sweat, despite the early morning chill.

  "You have names?" she said.

  "I'm Jode Pepperdyne," the younger man replied. "This is my… This is Micalor Standeven. You?"

  She got up. "Coilla."

  The older man spoke. "We're wasting time. A small army of religious fanatics are going to be here any minute." He was noticeably more nervous than his companion.

  "Unis?" Coilla asked.

  "Does it matter?" Pepperdyne said. "All you need know is that they're hell-bent on mayhem."

  "We're well guarded."

  "Really? We got in easily enough."

  "I don't understand why you'd side with us against your own."

  "They're nothing to do with us," Standeven insisted.

  "Let's just say we have mutual interests," Pepperdyne offered. "And we'll be mutually dead if you don't start mounting a defence now. Trust me."

  "That's asking a lot."

  "What have you got to lose? If we're lying, all you've done is put everybody on alert. If we're telling the truth, you've a chance to hold off the attack."

  "But decide now," Standeven added. "Because if your answer's no we can try getting out of here ourselves."

  "Will you do it, Coilla?" Pepperdyne said.

  "I'll do it. But if this is a trick," she vowed, "you'll both pay."

  He smiled his gratitude. "Do it quietly. We don't want to warn the raiders."

  "Oh really? I never would have thought of that." She gave him a withering look, then headed for the door. "You two stick by me. Many here would bring you down soon as look at you."

  She led them to the adjoining hut and barged straight in.

  Haskeer still slept, snoring loudly. Stryke stood on the far side of the room, stropping a blade. He spun around.

  Coilla held up her hands. "Easy."

  He glared at the humans. "What the hell's this?"

  "They're… friends. Or at least not hostile."

  "What?"

  "Listen, Stryke. There might be an attack coming."

  "Says who?"

  "They do." She jabbed a thumb at Pepperdyne and Standeven. "And I don't think we can risk ignoring them."

  "But — "

  "If they're right, there's no time to waste, and — Can't you stop that fucking noise?"

  "Huh? Oh, yeah." He turned and gave his snoring sergeant a kick.

  Haskeer leapt up, tangled in his blanket. "Uhh? Fuck! Humans! " He whipped out a knife.

  "Calm down," Stryke told him. "We know."

  "But what — ?"

  "There could be trouble."

  "Trouble?" Haskeer was still negotiating wakefulness.

  "Yes. According to them."

  "According to them?" he replied, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "They're nothing but lousy — "

  "We appreciate you don't know who we are," Pepperdyne said.

  "We know what you are," Haskeer rumbled.

  "And you've no reason to trust us. But brush us off and you'll have a crowd of lunatics down on you."

  "Makes sense, Stryke," Coilla said. "We upset Mercy Hobrow and her Unis. If they tracked us here…"

  Stryke looked from her to the humans. "What's your interest in this?"

  "You don't have time for our life stories," Pepperdyne replied.

  Several long seconds passed while Stryke studied their faces and thought things over. "All right, we'll sound the alarm." Haskeer started to object. Stryke waved him away. "Better prepared than caught unawares."

  Haskeer gave a resigned sigh. "So what do we do with them?" He nodded at the two men.

  "Lock 'em up somewhere."

  Pepperdyne tensed. "Nobody locks us away. We're part of this."

  "We can't have 'em running around armed," Haskeer objected.

  "I don't carry a weapon," Standeven said. As proof, he held open his jerkin.

  Haskeer was appalled. "No weapon? Humans are crazy."

  "This one has a blade," Coilla said.

  "And if anybody wants it," Pepperdyne came back defiantly, "they'll have to take it."

  Coilla appreciated the sentiment. "We can respect that."

  "But if this is some kind of ploy," Stryke promised, "being armed won't stop us taking it out of your hides. Now let's move."

  They left the hut. Stryke ordered the humans to wait, with Coilla keeping an eye on them. Then he and Haskeer set off stealthily to rouse the others, creeping from door to door. In their wake, orcs and dwarfs emerged, bearing arms and treading softly.

  Tousle-haired, Jup and Spurral made their way across the clearing to Stryke.

  Spurral looked indignant. "What are they doing here?" she demanded, pointing at Coilla's charges.

  "Warning us. They say. And before you ask, I haven't a clue who they are."

  "You believe them?"

  "Best not to take chances." He turned to Jup. "Can your people get into a defensive pattern?"

  "In their sleep. What are we facing?"

  "Don't know. Or if. But could be big."

  "You
've seen the state of our tribe. Not a lot of prime fighters."

  "You've got us."

  Jup nodded and moved off. Spurral glowered one last time at the pair of humans and went after him.

  Haskeer arrived. "The band's ready, Stryke. How do we deploy?"

  "We need to be mobile. We'll split into five units, headed by me, you, Coilla, Jup and Dallog."

  "Dallog?"

  "I'm not debating it. Get those squads sorted, and make sure you spread around the new recruits."

  He left Haskeer to it and jogged to where Coilla stood with the humans.

  "I'm splitting the band into groups," he told her. "You're leading one. There'll be a hideaway for non-combatants. These two can go there."

  "Fine by me," Standeven responded eagerly.

  Pepperdyne gave him a contemptuous look. "But not me."

  "You've no say in it."

  "I can fight, and you need every sword arm you can get."

  "Your place is at my side!" Standeven retorted.

  His tone had Stryke and Coilla exchanging curious glances.

  Pepperdyne ignored his master's petulance. "I can be more use out here."

  "Do as you please," Stryke decided. "We've no time for squabbles."

  "You'd better stay with my unit," Coilla said. "Unless you want to be mistaken for an enemy."

  Pepperdyne nodded. "Right."

  "Haskeer's forming the groups," Stryke explained. "Get over there, and take him with you." He indicated Standeven. "He can cower with the old ones and sucklings." He thrust a finger in Pepperdyne's chest. "And you. Make a wrong move, or get in our way, and you're dead."

  Practised at repelling intruders, the dwarfs were swift to take up positions. They occupied defensive trenches. Lookouts climbed tall trees. Archers were placed on the roofs of buildings. The five teams of orcs were stationed at strategic points across the clearing.

  Those who couldn't fight, along with Standeven, took shelter in the sturdiest barn.

  Wheam was assigned the job of guarding them. A meaningless role, given that if the enemy reached it, everything would already be lost.

  The bout of furtive activity over, everyone settled in to wait. Nothing, not even birdsong, disturbed the early morning quiet.

  Coilla's group sheltered behind a small cluster of bushes, ready to fire-fight where needed. Pepperdyne knelt beside her, his breeches moist with dew. Half a dozen privates under her command eyed him charily.

  The minutes seemed unusually reluctant to pass.