Stan Nicholls - Inferno

Stryke and the others set off.

When they got to the plain, the battle was hotting up and there was a great roar coming from it. Stryke had hoped to cross by moving through their own ranks, but things had got mixed. It was still the case that most of Jennesta’s force was on the right and Stryke’s was on the left, but both armies had been contaminated with each other’s fighters.

They drew their weapons. Stryke tried to pick a spot with more friends than enemies, and they plunged in.

The Wolverines were where they always liked to be, in the heart of the battle.

For Haskeer it was all the excuse he needed to crack skulls and sever limbs with his axe. He preferred the living opponents. The zombies were basically dusty demolition jobs with little fight in them. The orc zombies were livelier but still lacked a spark. Haskeer had no qualms about fighting them.

Jup and Spurral were side by side, as usual, working in unison with staffs and knives. They made a point of seeking out goblins, and were duelling with a pair of them, staffs against tridents. Nearby, the Ceragans fought together, with Dallog leading them. Wheam stood with his father, and he had made the supreme gesture of leaving his lute back at the villa.

Gateway Corps members were all over the battle, discharging magical punches that downed men and caused the human zombies to explode in clouds of dust. Pelli Madayar was fighting conventionally, something the Corps was required to be proficient at. She finished off a Gatherer with a sword thrust and, spinning, bumped into Wheam. They exchanged nods and turned to their fresh respective opponents.

Shortly after, in a rare lull, they both happened to catch sight of Gleaton-Rouk, skulking at the battle’s ragged edge, looking for prey.

“Do you know him?” Pelli said.

Wheam nodded. “His name’s Gleaton-Rouk. He killed one of our band.”

“With an arrow?”

“Yes. His bow’s enchanted. Didn’t you know?”

“I guessed as much.”

“An arrow smeared with his victim’s blood always finds its target. Always. ”

“That explains something.”

“What?”

A uniformed human came too close. Pelli fended him off and he was caught up in the swirl. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I’ve got an idea about Gleaton-Rouk,” Wheam confided. “Something that could hurt him.”

“Can I help you with it?”

As they battled their way through the melee, so did Dallog and Pirrak, but moving in a different direction.

Initially, Stryke and his tiny crew made good progress. They were well into the crush before they hit a foe, then trouble came thick and furious.

But now, sweating and breathing hard, they were in sight of Jennesta. She had Thirzarr with her, rod straight and blank-eyed. There was also one of her once human zombies and a handful of troopers.

“So how are we going to do this, Stryke?” Pepperdyne said as they worked their way closer.

“I’m thinking just straight in, fell the guards.”

“What about the biggest threat?”

“I’m counting on Jennesta still wanting me and the band serving her. Why else would she keep Thirzarr alive?”

“You better be sure about that,” Coilla said. “She might be keeping her as a pet.”

“If you can think of another way in the time we’ve got-”

“No, let’s do it. I’ve come to trust your hunches.”

They fought their way to the battle’s rim, lingered in the crowd for an opportune moment then charged across the open ground. The guards were their first target. There were five of them, all human, so the odds were no problem. Gleadeg got the first with a single blow and surprise. Pepperdyne had as easy a time with his mark, felling him with a brace of strokes. Stryke and Coilla had a bit more of a slog. Their opponents had some fire and it took a moment to put them down.

There was a human zombie present, but for some reason Jennesta hadn’t set him on them. He stood immobile, and they recognised him as what was left of Kapple Hacher.

The sorceress had a jewelled dagger at Thirzarr’s throat.

“Give it up,” Stryke advised.

“You dare to speak to me like that, you snivelling animal? And while I’m holding a blade to your bitch?”

“I was never much of a one for niceties.” He wished Serapheim and the others would turn up. Equally, he hoped none of Jennesta’s supporters in the battle would notice what was going on and come to her aid.

“If anyone should give up,” Jennesta announced haughtily, “it’s you.” She pressed the dagger closer to Thirzarr’s throat. The crease in her flesh was plainly visible.

“I think if you were going to kill Thirzarr you would have done it by now.” He prayed she wouldn’t call his bluff. And thought of the Tetrad and what Serapheim had told him.

“You think I wouldn’t?”

It was sliding into a stalemate. Stryke was wondering how far to push it when they were all distracted by movement and noise.

A couple of Jennesta’s troopers had detached themselves from the battlefield, as Stryke had feared, and were rushing to save her. But as they neared and Stryke fought to bring up his sword, another figure ran into their path and viciously engaged them. It was Pirrak. He felled one man in quick order. The other put his sword through Pirrak’s guts. In his turn, the attacker was felled by a Wolverine’s blade.

Dallog came out of the scrum and joined the others around Pirrak.

The youth was mortally wounded and they all knew it. He was losing blood fast and could hardly talk, but he tried. “ Sorry… sorry about… Acurial.”

“What was that?” Stryke said.

“Acurial… didn’t want… he…”

“I can’t make it out,” Coilla said. “What do you mean?”

“ No… choice… in Acurial… sp — Uhh.”

Pirrak had a dagger in his heart, with Dallog’s hand on it. The deed was quick and smooth.

“What the hell?” Stryke exploded.

“What are you doing?” Coilla exclaimed.

“He was suffering and I put an end to his misery. It was a kindness.”

“Are you insane? He would have been dead in a heartbeat anyway.”

“Or was it something he was about to say that you wanted to put a stop to?” Stryke ventured.

“Ah,” Dallog said, and rose from the corpse.

In the turmoil they had almost forgotten about Jennesta. Now Dallog crossed to her. When he reached her side he turned and faced them. “Yes, it would have been embarrassing if Pirrak had talked. Not that it matters now that my allegiance is no longer a secret.”

“Your what?” Coilla said.

“I serve the Lady Jennesta. At least this once.”

“You serve me whenever I want you to,” she informed him coolly.

“This started in Acurial, didn’t it?” Stryke hazarded. “It was you.”

“Who?” Coilla said. “What happened in Acurial, Stryke?”

“We know what happened. We just didn’t know who did it. When that orc was found dead in the resistance safe house.”

“You think he did that?” She pointed at Dallog.

“I’m not denying it,” Dallog told her.

“And we’ve been blaming Standeven,” Pepperdyne said, “the poor bastard.”

“How did you do it, Dallog?” Stryke wanted to know.

“I got the youngster to help me. We were passing information about the resistance to the Peczan forces, and to my lady here. Something I’ve done more recently about the band.” He flicked a finger at his head, then indicated Jennesta’s with it. “We have a way of talking. I called it praying, you’ll remember, Captain.” He smiled. “The dead orc back in Acurial was a cohort, strictly for coin. He got greedy and said he’d expose me. It suited me to let Standeven take the blame.”

“You said you got Pirrak to help you. How did you do that?”