Orcs First Blood - Legion Of Thunder Part 17

'So be it.'

At her signal, several more guards moved in and held him firm. One of the pots was brought to her. She stared into it, one hand poised completely still above the opening. She stood that way for what seemed an eternity. Then suddenly her hand darted into the jar and she pulled something from the water.

It was a fish. She held it by the tail between two fingers and her thumb as it writhed and struggled in the air. The fish was about as long as a nyadd's hand and its girth equal to three arrows bound together.Its scales and stubby fins were silvery blue. Whiskers grew from either side of its mouth.

Handling it with care, Adpar tapped the fish's side and quickly withdrew her finger. Dozens of tiny quivering spikes shot out from itsbody.

'I envy the dowelfish,' she stated. 'It has no predators. Its spikes are not only sharp, they pump a lethal venom that kills with excruciating pain. The fish gives its own life but always takes its enemy's.' She dipped the animal back into the pot, immersing it in water but keeping hold of it. 'Prepare him,' she ordered.

The guards forced the prisoner to his knees. A length of thread was pa.s.sed to Adpar and she looped it around the dowelfish's back fin. Using the thread, she slowly pulled the fish from its pot again. Calmed by the water, it had retracted its spikes.

'Offer yourself to the G.o.ds' mercy,' Adpar told the prisoner. 'If they favour you three times, you'll be spared.'

The accused's head was roughly pushed upwards and his mouth prised open to its fullest extent. He was held in position. Adpar ap-proached, holding out the dangling fish. Very slowly, she lowered it into the nyadd's gaping mouth. He stayed absolutely motionless. The scene was not unlike the displays put on by sword-swallowers in marketplaces all over Maras-Dantia. Except that was a trick.

Everybody watched in silence as the fish disappeared from sight. Adpar paused for a second before continuing to play out the thread, guiding its load down the nyadd's gullet. At length she stopped. Then the process was reversed and she began winding the thread around a finger as she reeled the fish up. It emerged from the nyadd's mouth wriggling feebly.

The prisoner let out a shuddering breath. 'It seems the G.o.ds have smiled on you once,' Adpar declared. The fish was immersed in its jar once more and brought back for the second time. Again it was lowered at a leisurely pace, again she paused before its journey down the throat, again she wound the thread. In due course the dowelfish came out of the mouth without causing harm.Shaking and gasping, the accused looked near collapse.

'Our G.o.ds are benign today,' Adpar said. 'So far.'

A last return to the water and the apparently pacified fish was ready for the third trial. Adpar went through exactly the same routine. The point was reached where she stayed her hand before lowering the fish into the nyadd's craw. She began unwinding the twine.

The thread trembled. A shudder ran through the prisoner. Eyes wide,he took to retching, and struggled against the guards. The thread snapped. Adpar stood back and motioned for the guards to release him. They let go and involuntarily his mouth snapped shut.

Then he started screaming.

Hands clawing at his throat and chest, he rolled and contorted. Spasms wracked his body, green bile erupted from his mouth. He shrieked and contorted.

The death throes lasted an unconscionable amount of time. They were terrible to witness.

When silence returned and the prisoner was still, Adpar spoke. 'The G.o.ds' will has been done. They have called him to them. It is fitting.'

She turned to the second quaking prisoner. The other pot and the knives were offered. Without a word he took a knife.

The carapace at his throat meant the jagged blade had to be forcefully applied several times. At length a crimson spray marked his success.

At a wave of Adpar's hand the guard detail set to removing the bodies.

'We are fortunate that our culture is ruled by divine justice and compa.s.sion,' she proclaimed. 'Other realms are less benevolently gov-erned. Why, I myself have a sister who would havegloated over a scene like this.'

The snowfall was heavier, the sky black.

Much as he wanted to push on, Stryke had to concede that travel was impossible. He ordered the column to halt.

There being no natural shelter, the band built a fire, which fought the snow and wind to burn. They huddled round it miserably, swathed in horse blankets.

Jup had used some of Alfray's salves to treat Haskeer's wounds. Now Haskeer sat in silence, staring at the meagre flames. n.o.body else felt much like talking either.

The hours pa.s.sed and the blizzard was constant. Despite the weather, some of the band managed to drowse.

Then something loomed out of the snow.

It was a tall figure mounted on a handsome white horse. As it drew closer they saw the figure was human.

The band leapt up and went for their weapons.

Now they could make out that the human male was wrapped in a dark blue cloak. He had shoulder-length hair and was bearded. His age was hard to reckon.

'There might be more of them!' Stryke yelled. 'Stand ready!'

'I'm alone and unarmed,' the human called out, his voice calm. 'And with your leave I'll dismount.'

Stryke glanced about, but saw nothing else moving in the snow. 'All right,' he agreed. 'Do it slowly.'

The stranger dismounted. He held out his hands to show he had no blade. Stryke ordered Talag and Finje to search him. That done, they brought him forward. Reafdaw took charge of his horse, winding its reins around a withered tree stump. The eyes of the band flicked in turn from the surrounding whited-out terrain to this tall, unruffled human who had arrived in their midst.

'Who are you, human?' Stryke demanded. 'What do you want?'

'I am Serapheim. I saw your fire. All I want is warmth.'

'It's dangerous riding into a camp uninvited these days. How do you know we won't kill you?'

'I trust in the chivalry of orcs.' He glanced at Jup. 'And of those they ally with.'

'What are you, Mani or Uni?' the dwarf said.

'Not all humans are either.'

'Huh!' Jup exclaimed sceptically.

'It's true. I carry no baggage of G.o.ds. May I?' He stretched his hands to the fire. But Stryke noticed that despite the bitter cold this stranger did not look discomforted; his teeth didn't chatter, his disgust-ingly pale skin showed no tinge of blue.

'How do we know you're not part of some trap?' Stryke asked.

'I can't blame you for thinking that. The perceptions my race have of yours are just as distrustful. But then, many humans are like mush-rooms.'

They gave him puzzled looks. Stryke thought he might be a sim-pleton. Or mad.

'Mushrooms?' he said.

'Yes. They live in the dark and are force-fed s.h.i.+t.'

A ripple of laughter came from the band.

'Well put,' Jup told the stranger in guarded good humour. 'But who are you that you should be travelling a war-torn land alone and un-armed?'

'I'm a storyteller.'

'A story's all we need right now,' Stryke commented cynically.

'Then I'll tell you one. Though I fear it's short on plot and could end as a tragedy.' There was something about the way he said it that held them. 'Could it be that you're seeking one of your own kind?' the human added.

'What if we are?''A female member of your band?'

'What do you know of that?' Stryke rumbled darkly.

'A little. Enough to aid you perhaps.'

'Go on.'

'Your comrade's been captured by bounty hunters of my race.'

'How do you know this? Are you one of them?'

'Do Ilook like a mercenary? No, my friend, I'm not one of them. I've just seen them with her.'

'Where? And how many of them?'

'Three. Not far from here. But they would have moved on by now.'

'How does this help us?'

'I know where they've gone. Hecklowe.'

Stryke eyed him suspiciously. 'Why should we believe you?'

'That's your choice. But why would I lie?'

'For a dark purpose of your own, maybe. We've learnt the hard way to doubt anything a human says.'

'As I said, you can't be blamed for that. On this occasion a human is telling you the truth.'

Stryke stared at him. He couldn't read his face. 'I need to think,' he said. He detailed a couple of grunts to keep an eye on the human and wandered away from the fire.

The snow might have been a little lighter. He didn't really notice. His mind was on weighing the stranger's words.

'Am I intruding?'

Stryke turned. 'No, Jup. I was just trying to make sense of what we heard. Starting with why we should believe this Serapheim.'

'Because there's a certain kind of logic to it?'

'Maybe.'

'Because we're desperate?'

That's more like it.'

'Let's think this through, chief.If this human's speaking true, we a.s.sume the bounty hunters have Coilla because of the price on her head, yes?'

'If not, wouldn't they have killed her already?'

'That's what I figured. But why take her to Hecklowe?'

Stryke shrugged. 'Could be one of the places where the bounty's doled out. Let's work on believing him. That leaves us with a decision. Should we go after Coilla or keep the rendezvous with the rest of the band first?'

'We're nearer Hecklowe than Drogan.'

'True. But if Coilla has a value she's unlikely to be harmed.'

'You're not taking her nature into account. She'll be no pa.s.sive hostage.'

'Let's trust to her good sense. In which case things are going to be hard for her but not life-threatening.'

'So that's an argument for meeting with Alfray first and going into Hecklowe with the whole band.'

'Yeah, better odds. The downside is that delay might mean Coilla being sent back to Jennesta. Then we really would have lost her.'

They glanced in the direction of the stranger. He was still by the fire. The grunts by him seemed a little more relaxed, and several were engaged in conversations.

'On the other hand,' Jup went on, 'thereis an agreed time for ren-dezvousing with Alfray. Suppose he thinks the worst's happened to us and goes into Drogan to tangle with the centaurs?'

'I wouldn't put it past him.' Stryke sighed. 'It's on a blade's edge, Jup, and we need to be absolutely sure that-'

A chorus of shouts interrupted. Stryke and Jup spun around.

The stranger had gone. So had his horse. They ran to the fire.

Grunts were stumbling and yelling in the swirling whiteness.

Stryke collared Gant. 'What the h.e.l.l happened, trooper?'

'The human, Captain, he just. . . went.'

'Went? What do you mean,went?'

Talag intervened. That's right, sir. I took my eyes off him for a second and he was gone.'

'Who saw him go?' Stryke shouted.

None of the grunts owned to it.

'This is crazy,' Jup said, squinting into the snow. 'He couldn't have just disappeared.'

Sword in hand, Stryke stared too, and wondered.