Orcs

by Stan Nicholls

  From his vantage point, the Wolverine leader spotted his officers in a fierce conversation. Haskeer gestured and Coilla made damping motions, but when they spotted Stryke they surged towards him. Even now, some Manis gave them a wide berth.

  He descended and met them. They all started speaking at once.

  “Shut up!” he snapped. “The last thing I need is you lot arguing.” He glanced at a tumbledown shack. “In there. We need to talk.”

  With Alfray keeping watch through a crack in the door, the rest of the Wolverine command squatted in the cobwebbed shadows.

  “First off,” Stryke said quietly, “it’s pretty obvious this town won’t make it. Half of them can’t fight and Hobrow’s got his followers stoked up. Any ideas?”

  The Wolverines looked at each other. “We fight,” said Coilla. “What else?”

  “Exactly. ‘What else?’ ” Stryke’s words hung in the grimy air.

  Jup asked slowly, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean we could just leave them to it. With the humans fighting each other, they’ll be too busy to come after us.”

  “You mean we just find a way out of here while they’re occupied?” Haskeer said. “Sounds good to me.”

  Coilla hissed, “You can’t mean that! We’d have had no chance against Hobrow’s men if it wasn’t for them. We can’t desert them now.”

  “Think about it,” Stryke urged. “I know the Manis are our allies now, sort of. But what do you think will happen if the last star falls into Hobrow’s hands?”

  Jup jumped to his feet. “Who cares about the star?” he said angrily. “We’ve got four of them, haven’t we? Isn’t that enough for you? Or do we have to throw our lives away too?”

  Stryke glared at the dwarf. “Sit down and shut your mouth. Isn’t it obvious to you that the star’s got power? It’s something to do with the magic of the land. If Hobrow gets his hands on it, that power will be his.”

  “Either that,” Alfray said from his post by the door, “or he’ll destroy it. But us getting killed is more likely out in the open against the whole Uni army. And I never was much for betraying people I’ve fought alongside.”

  “Look,” Haskeer said as the dwarf sullenly resumed his place in the circle, “they’re only humans, ain’t they? All right, they’ve been welcoming to us, given us food and shelter, but they need us more than we need them. If it was the other way round, they’d take from us and think nothing of it. You know they would. That’s human nature.”

  Coilla had been thinking about the implications behind Stryke’s words. “You mean you’ve decided we’re going for the star and done with it?”

  Stryke nodded. “I say for the meantime we stay here and fight. Then, when we get a chance, we take the star and get out under cover of darkness.”

  One by one they agreed, some with more reluctance than others. Alfray was the least happy, but even he could see that Ruffetts View didn’t stand much chance of surviving.

  Swallowing down his own guilt, Stryke said, “Coilla? You’ve been in the temple. Do you think you could steal the star for us?”

  “If I have to. It shouldn’t be too difficult. After all, they haven’t got time to guard the temple when there’s a fucking siege going on, have they?”

  “Look,” Alfray said, abandoning his post and coming to stare down at Stryke with a spark of anger in his eyes, “if we’re sneaking out of here, what are you planning on doing with the enlistees? You’re not going to leave them behind just like that, are you? Because I’d find that hard to believe of the Stryke I know.”

  “No, Alfray, I’m not. I’m an orc and we look after our own. We’ll let them know, don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried,” the old corporal said. “I’m just not abandoning anybody, that’s all.”

  “Neither am I, Alfray. Neither am I. So what I —”

  Alarm bells began to sound. From the wall of the stockade men were shouting.

  The orcs sprang to their feet, heading for the door. At that moment a fire canister burst on the thatched roof above them. Burning pieces of straw and wood showered down, filling the hut with smoke.

  Stryke jumped forward, pulling Coilla out of the way of a falling timber. “Let’s get out of here!”

  The rain of fire continued, kept in check only by the archers Rellston had posted on the walls, and by the bucket brigades within. Sheltering under overhanging eaves where they could, the Wolverines pounded off to their respective posts. Dodging and ducking, they were just about to split up when a lookout called, “They’ve stopped! They’re pulling back!”

  “Must be so they don’t hit their own troops,” Stryke said. Then he shivered as something coursed through him.

  Coilla hadn’t noticed. “See that?” she said.

  In the middle of the tension, with battle about to be joined, the High Priestess was chanting around the geyser of magic. Still in her blue robes, though they were somewhat stained now, she was slowly circling the fountain of rainbow light, hand in hand with a chain of her followers. Around her, tattered and worn, a group of women of all ages was watching. Red, green and yellow gleamed on their faces as they took up the eerie chant.

  “What are they doing?” Jup said.

  “Trying to turn the magic on the Unis,” Stryke answered without thinking. Then wondered how he knew.

  “Well, we need all the help we can get,” the dwarf muttered.

  Stryke tried to pull out of the strange feelings that rippled around him. “I’m all for calling on the gods,” he said with an attempt at his former cynicism, “but there are times when a good sword is your best guide.”

  Coilla put a hand on his arm. “Why don’t we tell them we have the other stars?”

  He looked puzzled. “Why would we do that?”

  She shrugged, seeming almost embarrassed now, if that were possible. “If they’re as powerful as they’re supposed to be, maybe the stars could help.”

  “Do you think anybody around here would know what to do with them?”

  Jup grimaced. “We don’t know what to do with them either.”

  Stryke fought to control himself. The waves of vibration inside him made it hard to think. The others looked at him expectantly while Krista and her handmaidens continued to sing their invocation to the Trinity. He found himself wishing that he’d had the time to tell Coilla what the Priestess had said about the possibility of his being a sport.

  Consciously anchoring himself in reality by straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath and said, “I still think the stars are better with us.”

  “But why?” Coilla’s words burst out louder than she’d meant. Some of the singers turned to glare at her. “They’ve brought us nothing but trouble this far,” she ended more quietly.

  “I just don’t want to risk them falling into the Unis’ hands,” Stryke said.

  Coilla looked at him strangely. “Are you sure you just don’t want to share them? You’re getting mighty possessive about the damn things if you ask me.”

  “Yeah!” Haskeer said. “You won’t even let me touch them any more.”

  Jup smirked. “Not since you went crazy.”

  “Shut up about that, will you? It was just the humans and their fucking plague, all right?”

  Before anyone else could speak, Krista’s chant reached such a high pitch that it was on the limits of hearing. The sound seemed to knife through Stryke. The Priestess and her acolytes were swaying backwards and forwards now, their faces alight with rapture.

  “How can they stand that shrieking?” Jup whispered.

  Alfray spoke, dispelling Stryke’s mood. The old orc indicated Krista’s unearthly hymn. “Think it’ll work?”

  “I bloody hope so,” Jup said. “A battle’s a battle, and all that, but I’m sick to death of everybody being after us.”

  For a moment an unusual sense of optimism held the band.

  Then alarm bells sounded again and somebody shouted, “There’s another army out there!”

>   “Oh, fuck!”

  In the sudden silence that filled the holy place, Jup’s words rang out somewhat louder than he intended.

  18

  Dashing to the walls, the orcs swarmed up to the walkway. As far as the eye could see there were soldiers marching, horses trampling, banners rippling. But with the smoke from the fires still burning in Ruffetts, and perhaps five hundred bonfires on the enemy side, nobody could see clearly for more than a few feet. But they didn’t have to be able to see clearly to realise that the army of the besiegers had more than doubled in size.

  Squinting, cloths tied around their faces to keep out the choking fumes, the Wolverines watched the endless tide of men and horses rolling black across the crests of the hills. By the time the newcomers’ vanguard had reached the Uni camp there was no sign of the rearguard. Just an endless swarm that covered the landscape from one side of the horizon to the other.

  Stryke closed his eyes in despair.

  Haskeer was the first to find his voice. “Now the shit hits the windmill.”

  But suddenly the Uni camp was filled with shrieks. Coughing, Coilla said, “Doesn’t sound much like a joyous reunion to me.”

  Jup leapt up and down in uncharacteristic glee. “They’re Manis! Look, there are orcs up there, hundreds of ’em! The Manis have come to lift the siege!”

  “You’re right!” Coilla said. “They’re attacking the Unis from the rear.”

  “There’s dwarves!” Jup pointed excitedly at the first group of his own people he had seen in a while. “A whole mass of ’em!”

  Haskeer sneered, “So what? They won’t make a difference unless they’re being paid well.”

  Jup grabbed him by the throat. “Says who, goat breath?”

  Before Haskeer could reply Stryke pulled them apart. “We don’t have time for this. Can anybody see whose army it is?”

  Batting windblown sparks out of the smoky air, the Wolverines peered through the shimmering waves of heat.

  “Don’t know,” Coilla decided. “Don’t care. There’s more of them than there is of the Unis and that’s good enough for me.”

  Stryke rested his hands on the palisade. “This is gods-sent. We’ve got to get out there and help.”

  Inside Ruffetts View a frenzy of activity burst out, with Rellston snapping commands left, right and centre. Runners took his orders and within a short time forces were mustering. Foot-soldiers forced their way through the crowds to line the streets near the northern gate. Meanwhile, riders were saddling up and pushing their way from the stables so they could form up around the small pool in the square.

  The Ruffetts commander had his work cut out, sending citizens to the walls while the townswomen were left to battle the fires still raging in the poorer quarters, where houses were built mostly of wood.

  Stryke pushed his way through the throng, wishing he hadn’t told the enlistees to also assemble by the landmark pool. The noise was appalling. He dodged as a horse shied at the din, and shouldered his way through to the edge of the muddy water.

  He wasn’t surprised to see that even in the crowded square the humans had left a space around Corporal Krenad. Two hundred orc warriors were enough to give most beings a sense of respect.

  “Ready for the charge, Corporal?”

  The deserter’s face split in a grin. “Much better than skulking around inside these poxy walls, sir. If you want a good sally, I’m your orc.”

  They had to shout to make themselves heard. Now a strange quiet fell on the muster.

  Climbing into the saddle of a horse Krenad had brought him, Stryke found out why. High Priestess Krista Galby was walking through the square. Despite it being so packed, the inhabitants of Ruffetts still found space to make way for her.

  Serene, Krista had a brief word with Commander Rellston, then headed for the Wolverines. Stryke heeled his horse forward to meet her.

  She rested a hand on his leg and looked up into his eyes. “Once someone has felt the power of the land, it will grow in them,” she whispered. “Sooner or later, the land won’t be denied.”

  Suddenly she wasn’t serious at all. With a gleam of exaltation in her eye, she straightened. Though she hardly raised her voice, her next words rang through the square. “Let each of you know that you fight for the land. So the land will strengthen you, bring the power of the earth into your hearts. Open yourselves to the power of the earth. Know that the wind is the earth’s breath, and that we fight for the land’s well-being. For the land will not be denied. Too long has it shed tears for its despoilers. Now, as the power of the earth soars above your heads—” from the geyser a plume of coruscating pseudo-flame leaped higher, by chance or by design “—your spirits will be renewed, in this life or the next, and the blessings of the Manifold Path will be above you and before you. They will be behind you and on either hand, to guard and guide and shield you as the land’s own.” Her hands rose in a graceful gesture of benediction. Then she vanished into the crowd.

  Rellston’s command burst into the silence. “Open the gates! At the trot!”

  Flanked by Coilla, Jup, Alfray and Haskeer, Stryke held his restless horse in place by sheer muscular power.

  Once more the square was filled with noise. Under its cover, Coilla said, “If anything happens to you all the stars will be lost at once. Split them up between us, Stryke.”

  “No chance.” His automatic refusal brought her chin up stubbornly. He added persuasively, “They belong together, Coilla. I don’t know why, they just do.”

  Already the first columns of trotting men were at the gates.

  “Either that or you’re just too possessive to let them out of your grasp,” she said.

  Secure in the centre of her army, Jennesta stared down from her chariot on the hilltop.

  A seething battle was under way in front of the squalid, smoking settlement. Trapped by the steep sides of the valley, pinned down by her loyalists and those pathetic human and orcish renegades, Hobrow’s Unis were grimly digging in.

  She laughed. “Pitiful, aren’t they, Mersadion?”

  “Yes, my lady.” Unconsciously, the general’s hand lifted to touch his scarred and blistered cheek. “But there are still twenty thousand of them.”

  The queen’s eyes glittered. “Your point?”

  “That . . . that it will be a great victory for you, my lady.”

  “I like a great victory. And so should you, General. Because if I don’t get one, you don’t get to live. Do I make myself clear?”

  Mersadion bowed to hide the hatred he could feel inside him. “Indeed you do, my lady.”

  “Good. Then arrange for a three-pronged attack. I want our humans ready for a frontal charge. Yes? Were you about to question my orders?”

  “No, my lady. Never.”

  “That’s right. We mustn’t let ourselves get carried away, must we? I want the orcs on that ridge over there, ready to attack from the cover of the trees. The dwarves can take that hilltop on the left. When my humans feint with a charge, those stupid Unis won’t be able to spread out sideways to encircle the charge. But some will be lured forward and that’s when our flanks will attack theirs. Simple, you see?”

  He did indeed. “It’s brilliant, my lady.”

  “Of course it is.” She smiled down on the sea of glittering pikes and swords below her. “And while we’re at it, Mersadion, I want the harpies ready to fly once that Uni rabble has committed itself to a charge.”

  What’s left of them, the general thought, turning away to pass on his orders. Why the queen had chosen to pleasure herself by setting the harpies on each other the night before, he could not fathom. Although insanity couldn’t be ruled out.

  Fortunately Jennesta was happy. Excited. Girlish even, at the thought of the bloodletting to come. She flicked her reins and began trundling her scythe-wheeled chariot to the front ranks of her vanguard. Once she was in position, she had Mersadion give the signal for the charge.

  Step by step the horses flung themselves forward
, gaining momentum. Knowing she looked magnificent, all aglitter in the sun, Jennesta thundered down on her enemy, sweeping her army out around her like a jewelled cloak.

  This was going to be easy.

  Kimball Hobrow could scarcely believe it. Just moments ago, he had been in charge of a besieging force that outnumbered the heathen scum in that wretched little dump below. He couldn’t lose. He could even pity the stupidity of those Manis, laid out before him like ninepins, waiting for the will of God to bowl them aside as a testament to His power.

  And now he was facing not one but two armies. Armies that made his own forces look like a temple picnic.

  “What’ll we do, sir?” said the sweat-streaked custodian before him.

  “The Lord’s will,” Hobrow said, outwardly calm despite the first stirrings of panic in his breast.

  “Is it a test, Father?” Mercy asked, turning her innocent-looking face up to his.

  “It is, daughter.” He raked the trembling custodian with a glance as the ground began to shake beneath Jennesta’s chariot charge. “Why? Do you think the Lord has abandoned us? Is our faith so weak?”

  “N . . . no, sir.”

  “Indeed not. We shall slay these unbelievers. The Lord’s name will ring down glorified through the ages. If He is with us, how can we lose?”

  The custodian could not find words. He shook his head as Hobrow made a blessing in the hot, dusty air.

  “Get back to your place, man! Do the Lord’s will!” Hobrow had already dismissed him from his thoughts. He beckoned to two of his inner circle. They trotted obediently to him. “I have bad news for you,” he told them. “I know you long to take part in the glorious slaughter but the Lord has other plans for you.”

  Both of them actually looked regretful. “Tell us, master,” they chorused.

  “Guard my daughter with your lives, for did not the Lord command us to protect the innocent?”