Orcs First Blood - Legion Of Thunder Part 9

'Big talk! Withwhat, b.i.t.c.h?'

'With these.' She flashed her teeth at him. 'You know how sharp they are.'

Aulay boiled, a hand to the remains of his ear.

Lekmann grinned.

'How do we know she ain't lying about her band going to Hecklowe?' Aulay said.

'Don't start that again, Greever,' Lekmann replied wearily. He turned to Coilla. 'You aren't lying, are you, sweetheart?

You wouldn't dare.'

She held her peace, contenting herself with an acid look.

Digging into a jerkin pocket, Lekmann brought out a pair of bone dice. 'Let's all calm down and kill an hour with these, shall we?' He rattled the dice in his fist.

Aulay drifted over. Blaan joined them. Soon they were engrossed in a noisy game and lost interest in Coilla.

She concentrated on the knife. Slowly, with one eye always on the boisterous trio, she stretched her foot towards it.

Eventually her toe touched the blade. Further straining and wriggling got her foot around the knife. She pulled back. It fell, fortunately her way. With some un-gainly, stealthy acrobatics, she managed to get it near enough to reach. A rope had been run around her, fastening her arms to her sides, but there was just enough give to allow her fingers to reach the weapon. Very carefully, she got the knife into her palm and, her hand at an awkward, painful angle, finally placed its cutting edge against the rope. The bounty hunters were still playing, their backs to her. She moved the knife on the rope, working it up and down as quickly as she dared. Shreds of hemp frayed. Applying pressure by flexing her muscles against the bond helped speed the process. Then the last threads parted and she was free. With imperceptible, almost glacial deliberation, she unwound the rope. The humans carried on throwing dice and yelling at each other, completely oblivious of her. She moved, ever so cautiously, towards her horse which was also on their blind side.

Crouching low and clutching the knife, she reached the mount. Her worry now was that the animal might snort or make some other sound to alert them. She patted it gingerly and whispered softly to keep it docile. Slipping a foot into thestirrup, she reached for the saddle to pull herself up.

The saddle came away, sending her sprawling. Her knife flew out of her hand. Shying, the horse bucked.

Roars of laughter broke out. She looked over and saw the bounty hunters doubled up with barbarous mirth. Lekmann, sword drawn, came to her and kicked the knife out of reach.

It was then that she noticed the saddle straps had been undone. 'You've gotta make your own entertainment out here on the plains,' Lekmann hooted.

'Her face!' Aulay mocked.

Blaan was holding his ma.s.sive belly and rocking. Tears ran down his ample cheeks.

Suddenly something caught his attention and he stopped. He stared and said, 'Hey, look.'

A rider was approaching on a pure white stallion.

8.

As the rider drew nearer they saw he was human.

'Who the h.e.l.l'sthat?' Lekmann said. The other two shrugged, blank-faced. Lekmann knelt and bound Coilla's hands behind her back.

The bounty hunters armed themselves and watched as the horseman approached at a steady pace. Soon he was close enough for them to make out clearly.

Even seated it was obvious he was tall and straight-backed, but wiry rather than muscular. His auburn hair reached his shoulders, and he had a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a chestnut jerkin, lightly embroidered with silver thread. Below that were brown leather breeches tucked into high black boots. A swept-back dark blue cloak completed the outfit.

Apparently he wasn't carrying a weapon.

He pulled on the reins of his white stallion and stopped in front of them. Without asking, he dismounted. His movements were easy and a.s.sured, and he was smiling.

'Who are you?' Lekmann demanded. 'What do you want?'

The stranger's eyes flicked to Coilla, then back to Lekmann. The smile didn't waver. 'My name's Serapheim,' he replied in a sonorous, unhurried tone, 'and all I want is water.' He nodded at the spring.

His age was indeterminate. Blue eyed, with a slightly hawk nose and a well-shaped mouth, his face was handsome in a nondescript sort of way. Yet there was something about him that had presence, and a command transcending looks.

Lekmann glanced at Blaan and Aulay. 'Keep your eyes peeled for more.'

'I'm alone,' he told them.

'These are troubled times, Serapheim, or whatever you call yourself,' Lekmann said. 'Wandering about with less than a small army's asking for trouble.'

'You are.'

'There's three of us, and that's enough. We know how to look after ourselves.'

'I don't doubt it. But I offer none a threat and no one threatens me. Anyway, aren't you four?' He looked to Coilla.

'She's just with us,' Aulay explained. 'She ain't oneof us.'

The man made no reply. His expression stayed noncommittal.

'Seen any more of her kind in these parts?' Lekmann asked.

'No.'

Coilla studied the newly arrived human and reckoned his eyes spoke of more shrewdness than he was letting on. But she saw no realistic chance of him helping her in any way.

The stranger's horse walked to the stream, dipped its head and be-gan drinking. They let it be.

'Like I said, in these dark days a lone man takes a risk approaching strangers,' Lekmann repeated pointedly.

'I didn't see you until the last minute,' Serapheim admitted.

'Going round with your eyes shut ain't wise either.'

'I'm often in a dream. Living in my head.'

'That's a good way of losing it,' Aulay commented.

'You with the Unis or the Manis?' Blaan put in bluntly.

'Neither,' Serapheim replied. 'You?'

'Same,' Lekmann said.

That's a relief. I'm tired of walking on eggs. A stray word in the wrong company can be a problem these days.'

Coilla wondered what he thought he was in now.

'You're G.o.dsless, then?' Aulay asked.

'I didn't say that.'

'Figured you had to have faith in some higher power not to carry a blade.' It was a comment designed to mock.

'I don't need one in my trade.'

'Which is what?' Lekmann said.

Serapheim gave a little flourish of his cloak and bowed his head theatrically. 'I'm a roving bard. A storyteller. A wordsmith.'

Aulay's groan summed up the low opinion they all had of that particular occupation.

Coilla was even more convinced this wasn't someone likely to aid her.

'And how do you gallants makeyour way in the world?'

'We supply freelance martial services,' Lekmann replied grandly.

'With a little vermin control on the side,' Aulay added. He gave Coilla a cold glance.Serapheim nodded, the smile fixed, but said nothing.

Lekmann grinned. 'With wars and strife and all it has to be a bad time in your line.'

'On the contrary, uncertain times suit me.' He noted their doubtful expressions. 'When things look black, folk want to forget their everyday worries.'

'If business is good, you must be doing well,' Aulay suggested slyly.

Coilla thought this stranger was either a fool or too trusting for his own good.

'The riches I have can't be weighed or counted like gold.'

That puzzled Blaan. 'How so?'

'Can you put a value on the sun, the moon, the stars? On the wind in your face, the sound of birdsong? This water?'

'The honeyed words of a ...poet, ' Lekmann responded disdain-fully. 'If Maras-Dantia makes up your riches you're h.o.a.rding shoddy goods.'

'There's some truth in that,' Serapheim allowed. Things are not as they were, and getting worse.'

Aulay applied some sarcasm. 'You saying you eat the sun and stars? Dine on the wind? Sounds a poor return for your wares.'

Blaan smirked inanely.

'In exchange for my yarns folk give me food, drink, shelter. The occasional coin. Maybe even a story of their own.

Perhaps you have a story to pa.s.s on?'

'Of course not,' Lekmann snorted derisively. The sort of stories we have would be of little interest to you, word-forger.'

'I wouldn't be so sure. All men's stories have a value.'

'You ain't heard ours. Where you heading?'

'Nowhere in particular.'

'And you've come from nowhere in particular too, have you?'

'Hecklowe.'

'That's where we're going!' Blaan exclaimed.

'Shut your mouth!'Lekmann snapped. He directed a bogus smile at Serapheim. 'How, er, how are things in Hecklowe these days?'

'Like the rest of the land-chaotic, less tolerant than it was. It's turning into a haven for felons. Place was crawling with footpads, slav-ers and the like.'

It seemed to Coilla that the stranger placed more than a little em-phasis on the word slavers, but she couldn't be sure.

'You don't say,' Lekmann returned, feigning disinterest.

'The Council and the Watchers try to keep things under control, but the magic's as unpredictable there as anywhere else. That makes it hard for them.'

'Guess it must.'

Serapheim turned to Coilla. 'What does your elder race friend here think about visiting such a notorious place?'

'Having a choice would be a good start,' she told him.

'She ain't got nothing to say on the subject!' Lekmann quickly interrupted. 'Anyway, she's an orc and she can take care of herself.'

'Believe it,' Coilla muttered.

The storyteller took in the trio's harsh expressions. 'I'll just get some of that water and be on my way.'

'You'll have to pay for it,' Lekmann decided.

'I didn't know anyone owned the stream.'

'Today we do. Possession's nine tenths and all that.'