Orcs First Blood - Legion Of Thunder Part 18

13.

Voices and laughter were all around him.

He was walking in a crowd of orcs. Oces of both s.e.xes and all ages. Orcs he had never seen before.

They sported tiny adornments of dress that told him they were from many different clans. Yet there was no obvious animosity. They seemed happy and he didn't feel in any way threatened. In fact there was an air of antic.i.p.ation, a holiday mood.

He was on the sandy beach. The sun was at its highest point and beating down intensely. Shrieking white birds circled far overhead. The crowd was heading for the ocean.

Then he saw that a s.h.i.+p was anch.o.r.ed a little way offsh.o.r.e. It had three sails, now resting, and from the foremostmast a flag flew, deco-rated with a red emblem he didn't recognise. The carved effigy of a female orc, resplendent with raised sword, stood out from the prow. Battle s.h.i.+elds lined the s.h.i.+p's side, each bearing a different design. It was the biggest vessel Stryke had ever seen, and certainly the most magnificent.

The leaders of the crowd were already wading out to it. They didn't need to swim, so the s.h.i.+p was either flat-bottomed or stood in a deeper strait edging the beach. He was taken along by the flow of orcs. None of them spoke to him, but in a strange way that made him feel accepted.

Over the hubbub he heard his name, or at least he thought he did. He looked around, taking in the torrent of faces.

Then he saw her, moving against the crowd, coming his way.

'There you are!' she greeted him.

Despite his confusion, despite not knowing where he was or what was going on, he smiled.

She returned the smile and said, 'I knew you'd come.'

'You did?'

'Well, hoped,' she confessed. Her eyes sparkled. Emotions welled up in him that he didn't understand, and certainly couldn't articulate. So he didn't try. He simply smiled again.

'Are you here to help?' she asked. His reply was a baffled look.

She adopted the expression of good-natured pique that he was growing used to. 'Come on,' she said.

Stryke went with her to the ocean. They walked into the mild, chalky-flecked waves lapping the beach and waded, thigh-deep, to the s.h.i.+p. Orcs were using ropes and ladders to reach the deck. He watched admiringly as the female, moving with athletic suppleness, joined the climbers and scaled the side. Then he hauled himself aboard the gently swaying vessel.

A hold was open mid-deck. Crates, barrels and chests were being pa.s.sed up. The orcs began carrying them to the rail and over the side, where another chain was forming back to the beach. Stryke and the female took places in the line, pa.s.sing along the cargo. He admired the rippling of her arm and leg muscles as she hefted boxes and swung them to him.

'What are these things?' he asked.

She laughed. 'How do you make your way in the world knowing so little?'

He shrugged, abashed.

'Do they not import needed things where you come from?' she said.

'Orcs don't.'

'Oh, yes; you say your land is home to more than orcs. Those dwarves and gremlins and. . . what was it? Humans.'

His face darkened. 'Humans are not of my land. Though they would make it so.'

She handed him another piece of cargo. 'My point is that even where you come from, needful things must be brought in.'

'Where do these things come from?'

'From other orcs in other places that have things we don't.'

'Ihaven't heard of other such places.'

'You gall me.' Smiling, she waved a hand at the ocean. 'I mean those lands across the ocean.'

'Ididn't know there was anything across the ocean. Isn't the water all there is?'

'Obviously not. Where do you think all this came from?'

Suitably eluded, he caught the next box she sent his way. Thrownwith a little more force than before, he thought. He tossed it to the next orc in line, turned back to her and said, 'These are riches, then?'

'You could say that.' She moved out of the line, taking the crate she had with her. 'I'll show you.' He stepped aside too. The line closed up; there were more than enough orcs to help.

She put the crate on the deck. He knelt beside her. Producing a knife from her belt sheaf, she used it to lever open the box. It was full of a reddish, powdery material that looked like dried leaves. He obvi-ously didn't know what it was.

'Turm,' she explained. 'A spice. It makes food better.'

'This has value?'

'If we want our food to taste good, yes! That's its value. Not all riches come as coins or gems. Your sword, for example.'

'My sword?' His hand went to it. 'It's a good blade, but nothing special.'

'In itself, perhaps not. But in skilful hands, in the hands of a warrior born, it becomes so much more.'

'I see. I really do see.'

'And so it is with orcs. With all living things.'

His craggy face creased. 'Now I'm not so-'

'They're like blades. As sharp or as dull.'

Now it was his turn to laugh.

'Yet all have value,' she emphasised.

'Even my enemies?'

'It is right that orcs have enemies. Even if they change, and today's enemy becomes tomorrow's friend.'

'That's not my situation,' he replied coolly. 'It won't happen.'

'Whether it comes to pa.s.s or not, even mortal enemies have their value.'

'How can they?'

'Because it's possible to respect, which is to say value, their fighting skills, their determination. Their courage, ifthey have it. Not least, they're precious in just being there for an orc to face. Weneeda foe. It's what we do. It's in our blood.'

'I'd never thought of it that way.'

'But although we fight that doesn't necessarily mean we have to hate.'

Stryke couldn't entirely accept that. Though it did set him thinking.

'But what we must value most of all,' she added, 'are those closest to us.'

'You make things seem so . . . straightfonvard.'

'That's because they are, my friend.'

'Here, perhaps. Where I come from, all hands are against us and there is much to be overcome.'

Her expression grew sombre. 'Then be a blade, Stryke. Be a blade.'

He woke with a racing pulse. His breathing was so rapid he almost panted.

Light, fetid rain was falling from a dismal sky, and most of the snow had been washed away. It was miserable and cold.

The couple of hours' sleep hadn't refreshed him at all. There was a bad taste in his parched mouth and his head pounded.

He lay there, letting the rain bathe his face, and dwelt on what, for want of a better word, he termed the dream. Dreams, visions, messages from the G.o.ds; whatever they were, they had grown more vivid, more intense. The smell of ozone, the motes in his eyes from the glaring sun, the warm breeze that caressed his skin; all were slow to fade.

Again the thought that he was being betrayed by his own mind and going insane clutched his heart like an icy claw.

Yet another, contrary, notion ran almost as strongly: the feeling that he'd come to expect the dreams, even welcome them.

That was something he didn't want to pursue, not now.

He sat up and looked around. All the others were awake and going about their ch.o.r.es. The horses were being tended, bedrolls shaken out, weapons sharpened.

The events of the night came back to him. Not those of his dream but what had occurred before that. They had kept their eyes peeled for the mysterious human for a long time, and even ventured out into the snow in small parties to search for him. There had been no sign and eventually they gave up. At some point Stryke must have drifted into sleep, although he couldn't remember doing it.

Serapheim, if that was the stranger's real name, was another mystery to add to the list. But it wasn't one Stryke was going to waste time pondering, mostly because he didn't want to consider the distinct pos-sibility that the man was crazy. That would throw into doubt the only clue they had to Coilla's whereabouts. And at a time like this they needed something hopeful. Badly.

Stryke pushed all that from his mind. He had something more im-portant to occupy his thoughts.

Jup stood by the horses, talking with a couple of the grunts. He strode over to them.

Without preamble he told the dwarf, 'I've decided.'

'We're going for Coilla, right?'

'Right.'

'It must have occurred to you that this Serapheim character was lying. Or just plain mad.'

'I've given some thought to both. If he was lying, why?'

'As bait for a trap?'

'Too fancy a way of doing it.'

'Not if it works.'

'Perhaps. I still don't think it's likely, though.'

'What about him being insane?'

'I grant that's more possible. Maybe he is. But... I don't know, I just didn't feel that. 'Course, human madness isn't something I've had too much experience with.'

'Really? Take a look around some time.'

Stryke smiled, thinly. 'You know what I mean. But what Serapheim said is the only clue we've had about Coilla.' He saw Jup's face and qualified that. 'All right,possible clue. I reckon Hecklowe's worth a try.'

'What about that delaying us meeting up with Alfray?'

'We'll have to let him know.'

'And what's your decision on him?' Jup nodded toward Haskeer, sitting to one side by himself.

'He's still part of this band. Only he's on probation. Object?'

'No. Just a little wary, that's all.'

'Don't think I'm not. But we'll keep an eye on him.'

'We've got time for that?'

'Believe me, Jup, if he causes any more trouble he's out. Or dead.'

The dwarf didn't doubt his captain meant it. 'We should tell him what's happening. He's an officer, after all. Isn't he?'

'For now. I hadn't planned on breaking him unless he gets out of hand again. Come on.'

They walked over to Haskeer. He looked up at them and nodded.

'How're you feeling?' Stryke asked.

'Better.' His tone and general demeanour indicated there was some truth in that. 'I just want the chance to prove I'm still worthy of being a Wolverine.'