Warriors of the Tempest

by Stan Nicholls

  Like a great ship tossed on an ocean of blood and tormented flesh, the wedge slowly turned to a new course. It might already have been too late for Rellston. He was besieged by more invaders than he could sensibly engage, and only luck had stopped him succumbing.

  The wedge ploughed on, barrelling aside friends and enemies. At last it arrived at the Commander and began chewing his antagonists. At that moment his horse went down, slain by a hatchet blow to its head. Rellston all but disappeared in the chaotic struggle. Stryke, Haskeer and Coilla began carving through the Unis, the others covering their backs.

  Rellston was half crouching, doing no more than warding off his foes with a shield.

  Quickly felling the would-be murderers, Stryke and Coilla made room for Haskeer. He reached down, grabbed the Commander by the scruff and hoisted him to his feet. Half dragging him, they pulled Rellston into the relative protection of the wedge. He was bloodied and pale, but nodded his gratitude as the wedge resumed its journey.

  Within six torturous paces the second worst thing that can happen to somebody in a flying wedge befell Coilla.

  A second's inattention had her missing an incoming blade until it almost hit. She ducked, jabbed back and lost her footing. Reality whirled and she was separated from her comrades, alone in the scrum. The wedge, unstoppable, rolled on. It moved slowly, but still she couldn't get back to it.

  Then three Unis closed in, fresh from a kill.

  Coilla didn't fool with the first. She knocked his sword aside and riddled his breast with rapid cross-strokes. The other two came at her with murderous speed. She glanced away the blade of one, delivered a blow to the other's shield.

  A frantic exchange of swordplay ended with one Uni down, coughing blood. The remaining custodian tried to pay her back. She spun to him, averting his blade with a ringing impact. Their next exchange wound up with his abdomen lacerated. He sank to his knees, clutching his flowing stomach.

  Coilla looked around. The end of the wedge was moving out of reach. It was close, but separated from her by layers of people. And other Unis were coming her way. Too many of them.

  She had a crazy idea, thought What the hell, and went for it.

  Running the few paces between her and the disembowelled human, she used his drooping shoulder as a springboard. He cried out as she left him to his fate. The added height gave her enough clearance to get over the heads of the crowd. She landed on the wedge, miraculously missing up-thrust swords and spears, thumping heavily on a shield. Helping hands lowered her, and she worked her way to the nose, breathless.

  'Glad you could drop in,' Stryke remarked sardonically.

  Shortly after, the prow of the wedge met Jup's squad battling in from their left. They melded, and together attacked the final, clotted knot of Unis fighting to get in the gates. Aid came from arrows directed from a nearby watchtower. But bolts were winging in from the outside too. The danger of their position was underlined when a grunt caught one in his head and collapsed lifeless.

  Stryke peeled off twenty troopers and assigned ten to each gate. Once they joined the Manis already struggling with them, the great doors began to inch shut. With a supreme effort, the last of the fresh invaders were forced back. The gap between the gates narrowed. Then they met with an echoing crash. A massive wooden crossbar was hurriedly passed through iron loops to secure it. Numerous fists and sword hilts could be heard pounding against the other side.

  There were still invaders within the walls, but they were isolated and outnumbered now. It didn't take long to quell them.

  Jup slumped against the gate, sweat pouring down his face. 'That was too close,' he panted.

  An hour or two later, Stryke and Coilla climbed to a walkway at the top of Ruffetts' outer wall. There were other Manis on it, standing apart from them gazing over the fortifications. The orcs stared too, trying to estimate the size of the army laying siege. It occupied a vast area. Hundreds of humans topped the surrounding hills too, including the one which just hours before the orcs had occupied. Stryke and Coilla agreed that they numbered fifteen to twenty thousand, which would match the settlement's population, if not actually outstrip it.

  Down in the township some kind of Mani religious ceremony was going on. It centred around the geyser, which could just be seen through gaps in the buildings, and above them. Figures were outlined by the eerie glow, with hands linked and robes billowing. Beyond stood the temple, bathed in the soft radiance.

  Stryke wasn't happy. 'The defence of those gates was a shambles,' he complained. 'We lost seventeen. The gods know how many Manis went down. Plus injuries. It shouldn't have happened.'

  'These people aren't fighters,' Coilla said. 'The military contingent here's probably no more than ten percent. They're not like us. Warfare doesn't come naturally to them. You can't blame them.'

  'I'm not. I'm just saying that you need the right tools for the job. You can't cut butter with a club.'

  'They've got their dream.' She wondered if that was an appropriate word to use to him, all things considered. But he didn't react. 'It seems to be all that matters to them.'

  'They should learn that dreams have to be defended.' He looked out at the army again. 'If it isn't already too late.'

  'So how do we get out of this mess?'

  'We could just cut and run. We might make it.'

  'Without the star? And leaving these humans to fight alone?'

  'Is that really our problem?'

  'They offered us hospitality, Stryke.'

  He sighed. 'The other option is to throw in our lot with them and help get a proper defence sorted.'

  'Post orcs throughout the settlement,' she speculated. 'Maybe divide our force into five or six units and command one each.'

  He nodded.

  'You'll have Rellston to convince,' she told him.

  'He may be pig-headed but I hope he's not a fool. If he's got any military blood at all, he'll see the necessity.'

  'And saving him should count for something.'

  'Maybe. But he's a human, isn't he?'

  'I kind of like Krista,' she admitted. 'And that isn't something you'll hear me say about a human very often. We've come across worse specimens of their race. Take a look outside.'

  'What a mess. Getting stuck in a siege wasn't part of the plan.'

  'We had a plan? Look, we have to make our alliances where we can. At least we're locked in with the star.'

  'How do we know that? We haven't seen it.' He did his instinctive thing of absently reaching for the belt pouch.

  'I believed Katz. And they're building that temple to house something.'

  'They might have moved the star somewhere else since he was here.'

  'We'll never know unless we take the trouble to find out.'

  'How? Walk into the temple and ask?'

  'I want your permission to try getting into that place to check.'

  'It's risky.'

  'I know that. But when did risk figure too highly in what we've done lately?'

  'All right,' he replied warily. 'But only when the time's right, and only a look. Now's obviously not the time to steal it.'

  'Obviously,' she returned dryly. She allowed herself a little petulance at what she considered an unnecessary comment and fell silent.

  They returned to staring at the army.

  Outside Ruffetts, in the broadest part of the valley, Kimball Hobrow walked through the massed ranks of his army with Mercy at his side. Men called out good wishes to them, and godly supplications.

  'The failure of the first onslaught is a disappointment,' he confessed to his daughter, 'but at least it did the heathens some damage. Generally God has been good. He got us here before the Whore.'

  'And the Wolverines are inside. He delivered them to our justice, Daddy.'

  'His justice, Mercy. As it's His will that we expunge this nest of vermin from His good earth. When we burn this place it'll be the first beacon, letting the whole land know that the righteous are on the move. Then let the sub-humans b
eware.'

  She gave an excited little clap of her hands, taking an almost childlike delight at the prospect.

  'If need be we'll build siege engines to get us in there.'

  They came to a crowd of custodians, gathered around a punishment detail. The men parted at sight of them. A man was spread and tied, face forward, on a whipping frame. His bare back was bloody and lined with red weals.

  'What's this man's crime?' Hobrow asked of the custodian with the whip.

  'Cowardice, Master. He ran from the fight at the settlement.'

  'Then he is fortunate to keep his life.' He raised his voice for the benefit of them all. 'Heed this well! The same fate awaits any who defy the Lord's will! Proceed with the punishment.'

  The whip-man resumed his lashing.

  Mercy wanted to linger and watch. Her father didn't like to deny her.

  14

  The more Stryke saw of the settlement's defences, the more he realised how tenuously protected the place was.

  He was walking the streets of Ruffetts View with Commander Rellston. The human's surly nature had hardly improved, but at least he was now amenable to the orcs helping with the defences. And Stryke admitted to himself that he had some admiration for the man, as far as he could have for any human. They saw eye to eye on military matters.

  What shocked Stryke was that Coilla's estimate of ten percent under arms was probably optimistic. Seasoned warriors were in a definite minority here.

  They came to a group of citizens, twenty or thirty strong, practising in pairs with staffs. A soldier was drilling them. It took no more than a minute to realise they were at best raw, at worst useless.

  'You see what I have to work with?' Rellston complained.

  'It's been obvious since we got here, with the exception of your crew. How did the settlement come to this?'

  'It's never really been any different. A legacy of the founders. This colony was established on the principle of harmony, and even those of us who chose the martial life agree with that. But times have changed. It's always been hard, but in recent years it's become a lot more dangerous. Our military force hasn't grown to match the threat And so much goes into the new temple: manpower, coin. Now I fear we're paying for it.'

  It was the longest speech Stryke had heard him make. 'The land grows more perilous daily,' he agreed. 'But right now we have to see what we can do to shorten our odds on getting through this. I wanted to suggest that I break down my force into five or six more manageable groups. That way we spread their expertise around.'

  'It would give the citizens a bit of backbone, yes. Hmm. All right. Let me know what I can do to help.'

  'There's something you can help me with now.'

  'What's that?'

  'Tell me where to find the High Priestess.'

  'It's no secret. Go to the back of the temple. You'll find just two houses in the roadway directly opposite. She occupies the first.'

  Stryke thanked him and they parted.

  He followed the directions and found the house easily. It was large and built well of durable materials, but he guessed that reflected her rank. He had no need to approach the door. The building had a small, low-walled garden to one side, and Krista Galby was working in it. Her child played nearby.

  She saw Stryke coming and greeted him.

  'Well met,' he returned. 'Am I troubling you?'

  'No.' She dusted her hands. 'I tend the plants as much for spiritual reasons as anything else. It's good to have contact with the earth at a time like this. Is there news?'

  'Not really. The Unis are getting themselves organised out there. Just biding their time for the attack, I reckon.'

  'There's no chance they'll go away?'

  'Unlikely.'

  'Are they here because of you?'

  The question took him by surprise. 'I . . . If they are, I'm sorry. It wasn't our plan, I promise you that.'

  'I believe you. I'm not blaming you for anything, Captain. It's just . . .' Her gaze went to the boy. 'It's just that I hate warfare. Oh, I know it's necessary sometimes. I'm not so naive as to think we shouldn't defend ourselves. But war is usually stupid, wanton and pointless. I hope you'll forgive me for insulting your trade.'

  'Some call it an art.' He smiled thinly. 'I take no offence. We orcs are born to war, but we take no pride in suffering or injustice. Though most won't believe it.'

  'I do. You know, you're the first member of your race I've actually spoken to. Orcs follow the Tetrad, don't they? The Square?'

  'Many do.'

  'Excuse my curiosity. But I am after all a High Priestess of the Followers of the Manifold Path. Naturally the topic interests me. Do you follow the Square?'

  It was another question that threw him. 'I . . . suppose I do. It's the way I was brought up. All of us were. I haven't given these things much thought lately.'

  'Perhaps you should. The gods can comfort us in troubled times.'

  'Mine have done precious little of that for a while.' There was an edge of bitterness in his voice that startled even him. He tried changing the subject. 'What happened to Aidan's father?'

  'Should something have?'

  'I don't see him here.'

  'He's dead. In one of the endless conflicts with the Unis. Over something so trivial it would be amusing if it weren't . . .' She gave up on the memory.

  'I'm sorry if I caused you pain.'

  'That's all right. It was a while ago. I should be over it by now.'

  He thought of why he was there and felt a pang of guilt. 'Loss is always with us,' he said. Then despite himself he shivered.

  She noticed. 'You're cold?'

  'No. Just . . .'

  'Like somebody walked over your grave, to coin a phrase?'

  'Sort of.'

  'Has this happened to you before, while you've been here in Ruffetts?'

  'Why the questions? I just shivered.'

  'I do it too, quite often. It's the escaping earth energy. I feel it like goosebumps, or liquid trickling on my skin.'

  That was a fair description of what he'd just felt.

  'But it doesn't happen to everybody,' she went on, 'just the attuned. The energy flows through me, I'm aware of it all the time. For most people, most of the elder races too, I think, it isn't like that.'

  'You're saying that I'm . . . attuned?'

  'It can't be. Orcs don't have any affinity with the magic, do they? No magical skills. Which we believe comes from you not absorbing the energy somehow, the way many of the other elder races do. Unless . . .'

  'Unless what?'

  'Do you ever have sudden flashes of perception? Farsight, perhaps? Or prophetic dreams?'

  She was sharply intuitive and it troubled him.

  'You do, don't you?' Krista gently insisted. 'Your face betrays you, for all its inscrutable qualities.'

  He wrinkled his craggy brow. 'What are you getting at?'

  'You could be a sport, like me. There are many different kinds. In my case, quaintness, as my people sometimes call it, means I can feel the flow. Of magic.'

  'I don't understand.'

  'From time to time all races seem to throw up a very small number of special individuals. They have a sort of . . . twist, compared to everybody else. Usually their twist has something to do with the earth energies. Sometimes it's a completely wild talent. These special types are known as sports. Many wise beings have pondered their mystery. Some think they're rare deviations from the racial norm. Mutations.'

  'Doesn't that mean a freak?'

  'Only to the ignorant who want conformity. Like the Unis, Hobrow's brand in particular, who would see it as some kind of abomination to be persecuted.'

  'You've made a lot out of a shiver.'

  She smiled. 'There are other signs. Sports are said to be characterised by a higher than normal intelligence, for instance. Not always—there have been idiot savant sports—but usually.'

  'What cause have I given you to think that of me?'

  'Your actions.'

/>   'I'm just a simple soldier.'

  'I think you could be much more than that, Captain. You already have a reputation, you know. Even we've heard of it, and how there are many who would follow you. Sports are often leaders. Or messiahs.'

  'I'm neither. I want no followers.'

  'It seems to me you've already attracted some. Either that or warbands have grown considerably bigger.'

  'That wasn't of my choosing. I didn't ask them to dog me.'

  'Perhaps the gods desire it. You should learn to bend to their will, Stryke.'

  'What of my will? Do I have no say in it?'

  'Our will is as important as the gods', because we use it to carry out their design.' Krista thought for a moment. 'These strange experiences you've been having . . .' She saw the attempted denial in his face. '. . . that you imply haven't happened; did they begin recently?'

  'There might have been one or two . . . odd dreams.' Stryke was amazed hearing himself admit it to her. 'But I think you're wrong about all this,' he added hurriedly. 'As I said, I'm a soldier, not a mystic.'

  'If it has started recently,' she ploughed on, ignoring him, 'and you had no hint of sport before, something must have triggered it. Or rather, boosted what was already there, what was innate.' Smiling, she added, 'Of course, I could be wrong.'

  'I have to go,' he told her.

  'Not for anything I've said, I hope. Because, even if I'm right, it shouldn't be seen as a bad thing. It can be a very rocky road or a blessing; it's up to you.'

  'It's nothing you've said,' he assured her. 'I have to help with the defences.'

  'We should speak about this again.' When he made no reply to that, she asked, 'Why did you come?'

  'No reason. Just passing.'

  Stryke left suffering another twinge of guilt. But at least he should have given Coilla enough time to check the temple without the High Priestess being there.

  Coilla should have been in and out by now. She hadn't even got in. The guards had seen to that.

  Stryke had agreed that this was the best opportunity. For the first time, work had been suspended on the temple due to the siege and there were no workers smothering the place. He had gone off to distract Krista Galby, to prevent her turning up unexpectedly. It might be Coilla's only chance. But for those damned guards.