Legion Of Thunder Read online

  'How do you figure our casualties?' Stryke asked.

  'No fatalities, far as I can tell.' He was panting. 'We were lucky.'

  'They weren't fighters. Not full-time anyway.'

  Jup joined them. 'Think they were after us, Captain?'

  'No. A hunting party, I reckon.'

  'I've heard humans hunt for pleasure, not just food.'

  'That's barbaric,' Alfray said, wiping blood from his face with the back of a sleeve.

  'But typical of the race,' Stryke judged.

  Grunts were already searching the enemy corpses, taking weapons and anything else useful.

  'What do you think they were?' Alfray wondered. 'Unis? Manis?'

  Jup went to the nearest body and examined it. 'Unis. Don't the black outfits jog your memory? Kimball Hobrow's guardians. From Trinity.'

  'You sure?' Stryke said.

  'I saw more of them than you did, and up close. I'm sure.'

  Alfray stared at the body. 'I thought we'd shaken off those maniacs.'

  'We shouldn't be surprised we haven't,' Stryke replied. 'They're fanatics, and we took their star. Seems nobody's too keen on letting us get away with that.' The grunts despatched after the fleeing humans came back, holding up their bloodied swords in triumph. 'At least there's fewer of them now,' he added.

  Jup came away from the body. 'Could they have taken Coilla and Haskeer?'

  Stryke shrugged. 'Who knows?'

  A grunt ran to them holding a piece of rolled parchment. He handed it to Stryke. 'Found this, sir. Thought it might be important.'

  Stryke unrolled it and showed it to Alfray and Jup. Unlike the grunts, they could read, to varying levels of proficiency. Their task was made easier by it being in universal script.

  'It's about us!' Jup blurted.

  'I think the whole band should hear this,' Stryke decided.

  He called them all over, then asked Alfray to read it out.

  'This seems to be a copy of a proclamation,' Alfray explained, 'and it bears a likeness of Jennesta's seal. The heart of it reads: "Be it known that by order of . . ." well, by order of Jennesta, that, er, ". . . the orc warband attached to Her Majesty's horde, and known as the Wolverines, are henceforth to be regarded as renegades and outlaws, and are no longer afforded the protection of this realm. Be it further known that a bounty of such precious coin, pellucid or land as may be appropriate will be paid upon production of the heads of the band's officers. To wit . . ." The names of the five officers follow that bit. Let's see. It goes on, "Furthermore, a reward proportionate to their rank shall be paid for the return, dead or alive, of the band's common troopers, answering to the names . . ." Then it lists all the grunts. Even the comrades we've lost. It ends, "Be it known that any harbouring said outlaws . . ." The usual sort of thing.'

  He gave the scroll back to Stryke.

  A pall of silence had descended over everyone present. Stryke broke it. 'Well, this only bears out what most of us suspected, doesn't it?'

  'It's kind of a shock to have it confirmed,' Jup commented dismally.

  Alfray indicated the slain guardians. 'Doesn't this mean they were looking for us, Stryke?'

  'Yes and no. I think we just blundered into each other this time. Though they must be in these parts because of their master, Hobrow, and the star we took. But plenty will be seeking us for the reward.' He sighed. 'So. A moving target is hardest to hit. Let's get on.'

  As they rode out of the wood, Jup said, 'Still, look on the bright side. For the first time in my life I'm worth something. Pity it's only if I'm dead.'

  Stryke smiled. 'Look.' He pointed. To the west, far off, the hippogryph was making its way across the plain. 'At least he escaped.'

  Alfray nodded sagely. 'Yes. Shame he won't live much longer.'

  'Thank you very much for that thought,' Jup told him.

  They rode for another three or four hours, moving in a great circular sweep as they continued the fruitless search for their fellow band members. To make things worse, they hit a pocket of inclement weather. It was colder. Showers of icy rain and biting squalls came and went unpredictably. The damp, miserable atmosphere did little to lift the Wolverines' morale.

  For Stryke it was a time of reflection, and at length he made a decision, though what he settled on went against the grain. He halted the column by a grassy hillock. The advance and outflank guards were called in.

  He urged his horse to the crest of the rise, the better to address them all. 'I've decided on a different course of action,' he began without preamble, 'and I reckon we're best starting on it now.'

  There was a low-key rumble of anticipation from the ranks.

  'We've been running around like headless rocs looking for Haskeer and Coilla,' he went on. 'There's a bounty on us, and there might even be others after the stars. All hands are turned against us now. We have no friends, no allies. It's time to take another tack.'

  He scanned their rapt faces. Whatever they expected, it wasn't what he said next. 'We're going to split the band.'

  That brought a general outcry.

  'Why, Stryke?' Jup shouted.

  'You said we'd never do that,' Alfray added.

  Stryke's raised hands, and the expression on his face killed their racket. 'Hear me!' he bellowed. 'I don't mean splitting us permanently, just until we do what has to be done.'

  'Which is what, chief?' Jup asked.

  'Both finding Coilla and Haskeer, and at least checking on the possibility of a star at Drogan.'

  Alfray looked far from happy. 'You were against the band splitting before. What's changed?'

  'We didn't know about the chance of another star before. Nor did we have proof that we were officially renegades, and all that follows from it. Finding our comrades isn't our only priority now. I can't see another way we can search for our friends and a further star without dividing.'

  'You're supposing Tannar was telling the truth about there being a star at Drogan. He could have been lying to save his skin.'

  More than a few of the band murmured agreement on that point. Stryke shook his head. 'I think he was telling the truth.'

  'You can't know that for sure.'

  'You're right, Alfray, I can't. But what have we got to lose in believing him?'

  'Everything!'

  'If you hadn't noticed, that's what we're already gambling. There's something else. Putting all our eggs in one basket might not be good at this time. With two groups, our enemies have less chance of getting us all. And if each group has one or more stars—'

  'If!' Jup retorted. 'Remember, we still don't know what the hell the stars do, what they're for. It's a gamble on a blind throw.'

  'You're right; we're no nearer understanding their purpose than when we started, unless you count the stories Tannar told us. But we do know they have a value, if only because Jennesta's after at least one of them. The power we can be certain they have is the power of possession. I still think that if we have them we've got something to bargain with, and that might just get us out of this mess. As I said, what have we got to lose?'

  'Isn't what you're saying an argument for keeping the band split?' Alfray suggested.

  'No, it's not. These are unusual circumstances. We're missing two band members and we have to do our best to find them. Wolverines stick together.'

  'You still think of Haskeer as a member of this band? After what he's done?'

  'Yes, Stryke,' Jup agreed. 'It looks like treachery. If we do find him, what are we going to do about him?'

  'I don't know. Let's find him first, shall we? But even if he has betrayed us, is that any reason not to look for Coilla?'

  Alfray sighed. 'You're not going to be moved on this, are you?'

  Stryke shook his head.

  'So what's your plan?'

  'I'll lead half the band in continuing to search for Coilla and Haskeer. You, Alfray, will take the other half to Drogan and make contact with this Keppatawn.'

  'What about me?' Jup said. 'Which party do I go wit
h?'

  'Mine. Your farsight could be useful in the search.'

  The dwarf looked a little rancorous. 'The power's fading, you know that.'

  'Even so. We need every bit of help we can get.'

  'What kind of welcome can I expect from centaurs?' Alfray wondered.

  'We have no argument with them.' Stryke told him.

  'We started out having no argument with most Maras-Dantians. Look how that turned out!'

  'Just don't do anything to offend them. You know how proud they can be.'

  'They're a warlike race.'

  'So are we. That should give some mutual respect.'

  'What do you expect me to do once I get there?' Alfray persisted. 'Ask nicely if they've got a star and whether they'd give it to us?'

  'Assuming they do have a star, maybe we could parley for it.'

  'What with?'

  'I should think the pellucid's a good enough trade, wouldn't you?'

  'And if it isn't? Or they just decide to take it off us? I'll be leading just half of an already depleted band. The whole band would have a job coping with who knows how many centaurs, and on their home ground.'

  'Alfray, I'm not asking you to take them on. All I want is for you to get yourself to Drogan and judge the lie of the land. You don't even have to make contact with them if you think it's too risky. Just wait for the rest of us to get there.'

  'When's that going to be?'

  'I want to give at least another couple of days to searching. Then there's travelling time. Say five days, maybe six.'

  'Where would we rendezvous?'

  Stryke thought about it. 'East bank of the Calyparr inlet, where it enters the forest.'

  'All right, Stryke, if you really think this is the only way,' Alfray conceded resignedly. 'How do we allot the groups?'

  'A straight split of the troopers, which gives each party an even number.' He looked them over. 'Alfray, your group will be made up of Gleadeg, Kestix, Liffin, Nep, Eldo, Zoda, Orbon, Prooq, Noskaa, Vobe and Bhose. Jup and I will take Talag, Reafdaw, Seafe, Teche, Hystykk, Gant, Calthmon, Breggin, Finje and Jad.'

  He made a point of including the last three in his group because they voted with Haskeer not to open the cylinder containing the first star. He had no reason to doubt their loyalty, but thought it best not to have them on Alfray's mission, just in case.

  Alfray didn't object to his allocation, and when Stryke gave the grunts themselves an opportunity to protest, none did.

  He looked to the sky. 'I want as little delay as possible, but I reckon a couple of hours' rest's in order. Get yourselves ready. There'll be two turns of guards, an hour each. The rest of you get your heads down. Dismissed.'

  'I'm going to share out my healing herbs and balms between both groups,' Alfray announced. 'Chances are they'll be needed.' He went off, less than cheerfully.

  Jup lingered with Stryke.

  Reading his expression, Stryke anticipated his sergeant's thoughts. 'Purely in terms of rank you should be leading the Drogan mission, Jup. But to be blunt, you know there's prejudice against dwarves, maybe even in our ranks. Anything that erodes your authority, inside or outside the band, imperils the mission.'

  'Leading the rescue of you and Alfray doesn't count for anything?'

  'It counts for a hell of a lot with me and Alfray. That's not the point, and you know it. Anyway, I'd like you with me. We work well together.'

  Jup smiled thinly. 'Thanks, chief. Matter of fact, I don't feel that bad about it. When you're one of my kind, you get used to attitudes. Can't argue, either; my race mostly brought it on themselves.'

  'All right. Now get yourself some rest.'

  'One thing. Stryke; what about the crystal? Should Alfray's group take more of it, given they might have to use it for barter?'

  'No, I think we'll keep things as they are. Each band member carrying a ration's the best way of handling it. Still gives Alfray enough should he need to trade. But we make it clear again that nobody dips in without permission.'

  'Right, I'll get on that.'

  He left Stryke to bed down for a while.

  Wrapping himself in a blanket and laying his head on a saddle, Stryke realised how bone tired he was.

  As he drifted into sleep he fancied he caught a whiff of pellucid in the air. He put it down to imagination and let the darkness take him.

  7

  Something large and indistinct loomed over him.

  His vision was blurred and he couldn't make out what it was. He blinked several times, focused, and realised it was a tree, lofty and of ample girth. Looking around, he saw that he was in a forest where all the trees were tall and robust, with abundant greenery. Beams of sunlight knifed through the emerald ceiling high above.

  There was an almost palpable sense of peace here. Yet it wasn't entirely silent. He was aware of gentle birdsong, and behind that a sound he couldn't identify, like continuous, muted thunder. It wasn't threatening, just totally unfamiliar.

  In one direction, where the woodland thinned, brighter light entered. He walked that way. Passing over a bed of crisp fallen leaves, he came to the forest's edge. The roaring, crashing noise was louder. Still he had no notion of what it might be.

  Away from the shade of the trees, he was briefly ankle deep in succulent blades of grass. As the ground swept into a mild incline, the grass gave way to an expanse of fine white sand.

  Beyond the sand lay a mighty ocean.

  It stretched as far ahead as he could see, and to the left and right. It sent white flecked waves rumbling lazily to the shore. Its opulent blue near matched the perfectly cerulean sky, where chalky, sculptured clouds majestically drifted.

  Stryke was awed by it. He had never seen the like.

  He went out across the sand. A pleasantly warm sea breeze caressed his face. The air was perfumed with the quickening bouquet of ozone. Looking back to the treeline, he saw the trail his footprints had left in the sand. He could not say why he found the sight so strangely affecting.

  It was then that his eye was caught by something reflecting the sun, perched atop a rocky rise perhaps half a mile along the beach and set a hundred yards back from the shoreline. They were structures of some kind, sharply white. He moved in that direction.

  The bluff proved further away than it looked, but was no great hardship to reach. Trudging the hot sand, he passed dunes massed by the industrious wind. Here and there, brilliantly green shoots of tiny plants stabbed through the powdery layer.

  As he approached, it was obvious more than one construction sat on top of the black rock. Reaching the seaward face of the cliff, he discovered it was tiered. So he began to climb.

  Soon he arrived at what turned out to be a modest plateau. What it housed was ruins: tumbled fluted columns, the remains of buildings, scattered blocks of fashioned stone, a cracked, truncated staircase. It was all surrounded by a crenellated wall, now breached and crumbling. The material used to construct the place had the bleached look of old marble. Mosses and ivy colonised much of its soft dilapidation.

  The architecture was unfamiliar to him, its detail and decoration resembling nothing he had seen before. But there were elements that told him what he was looking at was obviously a fortification. Its positioning too, overlooking the ocean and on a high point, confirmed this. It was exactly where he would have put it himself. Anybody with a military slant would have done the same.

  Palm shading his brow, he surveyed the view. The wind whipped at his face and clothes.

  He stood that way for some time before he noticed movement. A group of riders was coming along the beach from the opposite direction to the way he had. As they got nearer, he could see there were seven of them. Nearer still, it was apparent they were heading for the fortification. A small voice in the back of his mind warned of the possibility of conflict.

  Then he saw that they were orcs, and the voice was stilled.

  The riders stopped at the foot of the rock pile. As they dismounted, he recognised one of them. It was the f
emale he had encountered here before. Assuming it was here, and wherever 'here' might be.

  He let that thought pass over him like a night zephyr.

  She led her party in climbing the bluff. Her movements were agile and confident. Reaching the top before the others, she stretched a hand to him. He took it and hoisted her the remaining couple of feet. As with the last time he had her hand in his, he noticed how firm and pleasantly cool it was.

  Nimbly springing to him, she smiled. It warmed her strong, open face. She was a mite shorter than Stryke, but the difference was made up by the ornamental headdress she wore, this time a shock of lustrous green and blue feathers. Her physique was fetchingly muscular, her back straight. There was no denying she was a handsome orc indeed.

  'Greetings,' she said.

  'Well met.'

  The other orcs scrambled on to the plateau. Two of them were female. They nodded as they passed him, seemingly friendly and unconcerned with who he might be or why he was there.

  'Some of my clansfolk,' she explained.

  He watched as they went to stand on another part of the level. They looked out to sea and talked amongst themselves.

  Stryke turned back to her. She was staring at him. 'It seems we are drawn together again.'

  'Why is that so, do you think?'

  Her expression indicated she found the question eccentric. 'Fate, the gods. Who knows? Would you have it otherwise?'

  'No! Er, no, I wouldn't.'

  She smiled again, a little knowingly he thought, then grew more serious. 'You always look so troubled.'

  'Do I?'

  'What is it that ails you?'

  'It's . . . hard to explain.'

  'Try.'

  'My land is tormented. Greatly so.'

  'Then leave it. Come here.'

  'There is too much of importance to hold me in my own place. And how I get here is something over which I seem to have no say.'

  'That's hard to understand. You visit with such facility. Can you explain?'

  'No. I'm puzzled too, and I have no explanation.'

  'Perhaps in time you will. No matter. What can be done to ease your burden?'

  'I'm on what could be called a mission which might do that.'