Stan Nicholls - Army of Shadows

"It does seem… odd," he conceded. "Maybe she lied about being with Jennesta, or maybe they were mercenaries who saw the value of the stars."

"How did they know we had them? Or even that they existed?"

"I… don't know. But does it really matter? How likely is it we'll run into them again?"

"There's something you're forgetting. That Madayar more or less told us they'd come from somewhere else, like we did. That can mean only one thing, Stryke. They can world-hop too."

"But they'd have to have stars to do that."

"Unless there's another way we don't know about. Mind you, who says we've got the only set there is?"

"If they've stars of their own, why did they want ours?"

"Search me. Maybe they collect the bloody things. What I'm trying to say is that if they have stars, could be we haven't seen the last of them."

She left him to ponder that.

Shortly after, he gathered the band.

"We've had an interesting day," he told them, raising a few wry laughs. "But now we've had a chance to steady ourselves I can use the stars to take us where we want to go."

"Where's that?" Standeven asked.

"Us and the dwarfs to our world, Ceragan. You two back where we found you."

"Centra — Maras-Dantia?"

"Unless you want to stay here."

"But…"

"But what? Enjoy our company so much you can't leave us, is that it? Or maybe you'd prefer being taken back to Acurial. I'm sure the orcs there'd be glad to see you again."

"Don't we get a say in this?"

"What say do you want? Stay here or go back to Maras-Dantia. That's your choice."

"I think you're being very high-handed," Standeven protested, "and you should at least — "

"Let it go," Pepperdyne told him. He knew his one-time master still harboured thoughts of gaining the instrumentalities, and thought even less of the idea now than he had originally.

"When I want your opinion — "

" Let it go," Pepperdyne repeated coldly, laying an emphasis on the words that he hoped would convey to Standeven exactly what it really was he should let go of. "We're lucky Stryke doesn't leave us here. Or somewhere worse."

"Too fucking right you are," Haskeer interjected. "Though I reckon it's what we ought to do."

"We do things my way," Stryke reminded him. "Maras-Dantia it is." He took out the instrumentalities and laid them on a rock beside him. Then he reached into his shirt for the pendant. "Get ready to brace yourselves."

He was becoming more adept at fitting the stars together, and now he did it with great caution, careful to follow exactly the order that would get them to their old homeworld.

Just before he clacked the fifth one into place he took a look at the faces staring at him. Many were apprehensive. Several, notably Standeven's and Wheam's, wore expressions that were positively sickly. Stryke couldn't altogether blame them. He wasn't looking forward to what came next himself.

He slammed the star into position.

Reality instantly dissolved and the now-familiar, dread sensation of falling was on them again. They were drawn through the hellish kaleidoscope with no more means of controlling their passage than if they had been leaves in a gale. The only scrap of comfort they had was knowing where they'd end up.

Several lifetimes later, as it seemed, they came to themselves in another actuality.

They were standing on a large circular rock that had been raised like a dais and smoothed flat. The rock was inside a colossal cavern. Surrounding it were a hundred or more startled dwarfs, apparently in the throes of some kind of ritual. Stryke began fumbling with the stars. The dwarfs moved faster. Scores of them swarmed up onto the rock podium, and in a second the tips of multiple spears were pressing against the Wolverines' throats.

"I don't think this is Maras-Dantia," Coilla said.

Two things saved the Wolverines' lives: their seemingly miraculous arrival and the presence of Jup and Spurral.

All the dwarfs surrounding the warband were male. They wore kilts woven from coarse material, and sandals, but were bare-chested. Many had necklaces of animal teeth, and a few sported brightly coloured feather headdresses. They were armed with daggers and the stout, bone-tipped spears that currently menaced the warband.

It was obvious that the dwarfs had never seen anything like orcs before, and regarded them with open amazement. The humans they looked upon with disdain, if not actual hatred. But they were confounded most by Jup and Spurral, and it was apparently because of them that they stayed their hands. They either gaped at the couple with something like awe or avoided their gaze almost shyly, keeping their eyes downcast.

"They seem 'specially taken with you and Spurral, Jup," Stryke said, a spear pressing against his throat. "Talk to them."

Jup looked doubtful but gave it a go. "Er… We come in peace."

"That was original," Coilla muttered.

"Doesn't look like it worked," Stryke said.

The dwarfs had blank expressions.

Jup tried again, carefully mouthing, "We are friends. There's no need to fight us."

"Kill us, you mean," Coilla remarked under her breath.

Still the dwarfs were baffled.

"Try Mutual," Stryke suggested.

Jup raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Really?"

"Got a better idea?"

"We mean you no harm and we're here as friends," Jup said in Mutual, the common tongue used by most of the races of Maras-Dantia.

Comprehension dawned on the dwarfs.

One of them, an older individual with a particularly impressive headdress, who was presumably some kind of elder, replied in Mutual, "You come from the sky?"

"Well, what do you know," Haskeer whispered hoarsely.

Jup glanced Stryke's way for a lead. Stryke managed to give him the tiniest of nods.

"Yes," Jup announced, feeling faintly ridiculous. "Yes, we are here from the sky." He raised his eyes heavenward, theatrically.

A chorus of gasps and exclamations of wonderment came from the dwarfs.

"These are your servants?" the elderly one asked, indicating the band.

"Oh, yeah," Jup confirmed. "They serve my every need."

"And these?" He pointed his spear at Pepperdyne and Standeven. "They are your prisoners?"

"Uhm. Well…"

"Do you want them executed now?"

"Exe — No. No. They're… I've decided they should be my slaves."

"It's never wise to allow these creatures to live."

"With you there," Haskeer agreed in an undertone.

The humans, unfamiliar with Mutual, hadn't a clue about what was being said.

"What's going on?" Pepperdyne asked Stryke softly.

"Don't worry about it," he mouthed back.

Jup having faltered somewhat, Spurral decided to push their luck, and took a hand.

"We choose to allow them their lives," she told the elder imperiously, "for the time being. Now release us. Immediately! "

The elder flinched, then looked alarmed. He snapped something to his fellows in their own slightly guttural tongue.

The spears were lowered and the dwarfs stepped back from the Wolverines. The dwarfs moved away from the two humans more reluctantly, and carried on eyeing them with suspicion. Stryke quickly stuffed the instrumentalities into his pouch, hoping no one had noticed.

"You must crave sustenance after your journey," the elder stated ingratiatingly. "Please allow us to lay humble offerings before you."

"Let us at it," Jup replied, trying for an air of command.

The elder ushered them down from the dais and led them away from it. To the band's bemusement, dwarfs bowed as they passed. Not a few prostrated themselves. Pepperdyne and Standeven were viewed less respectfully. They got glares.

"They think we're gods," Coilla whispered.

"Band of heroes," Haskeer boasted, "that's us."