Stan Nicholls - Army of Shadows

With no further word he turned his back on them and strode away.

"That's one god I can't wait to see fall," Spurral said, just loud enough for those nearest to hear.

Twilight on the island brought cool breezes, along with a reminder that time was getting on.

The pair of boats the elder surrendered were quite large. Big enough between them to take the whole warband and their provisions, with a little room to spare. They were essentially oversized rowing boats or undersized galleys, depending on how it was looked at. Both were fitted out for between eight and ten rowers. In addition each had a short mast to add the power of a sail. The rudders were a mighty affair, and could need two pairs of hands in rough weather. There were no covered areas on the boats, but lockers had been built in.

They needed most work on their hulls, which were unfinished, and both craft lay keel-up, with the band swarming about them. Wood was shaped, twine woven, tar boiled. Hammering, sawing and chiselling filled the air. Supplies were being gathered for the voyage: water, and such food as they thought might keep.

True to their elder's word, the dwarfs didn't assist. But many looked on, some in open curiosity, a few disapproving. The three children, Grunnsa, Heeg and Retlarg, were the band's shadows, though even they were wary of being seen to actually help.

Under the pressure, from time and Jup's growing unease, tempers were wearing thin. As Pepperdyne, the only one with any real experience of seamanship, was effectively in charge of getting the ships ready, he was the lightning rod.

"Can't you get them to work any faster?" Jup demanded.

"They're performing miracles as it is," Pepperdyne assured him. "Be patient."

"That's easy for you to say. Your woman's not out there somewhere, suffering the gods know what."

"Trust us, Jup. We want Spurral back as badly as you do."

"I doubt that!" He checked himself, and relented. "Sorry. I know you're doing your best."

"And we'll keep on doing it."

"It's funny. I never thought I'd be making common cause with a human, let alone over something as important as this. No disrespect."

"None taken. Life has its little ironies, doesn't it?"

"Never thought I'd be bossed again by a human either," Haskeer muttered darkly as he worked nearby.

"Jode's not bossing us," Jup told him. "He's helping."

"Oh, so it's Jode now, is it? That's what Coilla calls him. Seems to me some in this band are getting a bit too pally with his kind."

"Jode happens to be his name. And I reckon he's earned his part in this."

"You know where putting your trust in humans gets us. Or is your memory as short as your legs?"

"I've not forgotten. But when somebody proves their worth — "

"Know what humans are worth? This much." He spat.

"Nobody's saying you have to like me, or my kind," Pepperdyne said. "Or that I should have any great regard for you. None of that matters. Fact is, we need to work together."

"It might not matter to you — "

"For fuck's sake, Haskeer," Jup butted in, growing incensed. "Won't you rest it? This isn't about you. It's about finding Spurral."

"Yeah. Right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"All this fuss for a mate."

"What?"

"They come along regular as whores. You can always get another one."

" You bastard! " the dwarf exploded, leaping forward.

He delivered a couple of low punches in quick succession and, while Haskeer was still reeling, seized him by the throat. Haskeer hit back with a vicious kicking at the dwarf's legs.

Then Stryke and Dallog were there, grabbing Haskeer from behind. Pepperdyne did the same to Jup, and the pair were pulled apart.

" Are you two insane? " Stryke bellowed. "There's no time for this shit!"

Jup glowered. "He said — "

"Do I look like I care? You're sergeants in this band. SERGEANTS. But you're going the right way to getting yourselves broken to the ranks. Understand?"

"Yeah," Jup muttered, and Pepperdyne let him go.

Haskeer didn't respond.

"Haskeer?" Stryke said. He and Dallog still had hold of him. Stryke applied a little less-than-gentle pressure.

" Yes! " Haskeer replied. "Yes, damn it!"

They released him. He was enraged, and gave Dallog a particularly poisonous look, but curbed himself.

"Spurral's one of our band." Stryke directed the statement at Haskeer, suggesting he had heard what was said. "And this band sticks together. If any of us is in a fix, all of us get them out of it. Whoever they are," he added pointedly. "Now get this job finished."

They went back to work. Some with better grace than others.

When he'd moved away from the rest, Coilla went to Pepperdyne. "Don't take it too personal. Haskeer can be a swine, but he comes through when it counts."

"What's his beef?"

"It's a thing between him and Jup. It goes way back."

"He wants to watch his mouth. I thought Jup was going to kill him."

"Nah. Cripple him maybe."

Pepperdyne had to grin.

"Seriously," Coilla asked, "when do you think we're going to get these things launched?"

"They might be finished tonight. But no way should we put to sea in the dark. So first light, I guess." He glanced Haskeer's way. "Let's hope we all hold together that long."

"Yeah, and we need to. These islanders don't say much, but from what I've picked up we could run into anything out there."

They gazed at the vast expanse of water and the disappearing rim of the sinking Sun.

Pelli Madayar stood on the peak of a hummock and watched as day began slowly turning to night.

Her second-in-command, Weevan-Jirst, was by her side. He was a member of the goblin race, who were known to be nimble and tough. He had a gaunt build, almost sinewy, and the texture of his knotty, jade-coloured flesh resembled taut leather. His elliptical head had no hair. His ears were tiny and half enclosed by flaps of rough tissue. His mouth was little more than a slit, and his compressed nose had nostrils like slashes. His eyes were disproportionately large, with inky black orbs and sallow surrounds.

The forbidding appearance of goblins often led other species to assume they were hostile — an impression not always without foundation, though unjust in Weevan-Jirst's case. He had devoted his life to the Gateway Corps, and met the high standards of probity the Corps demanded. Which was not to say that he was incapable of performing acts of violence in pursuit of their cause.

"I communicated with Karrell Revers again," Pelli revealed, "shortly after we got here."

"And what did the leader have to say?" The goblin's inflection was sibilant, containing traces of the throaty hiss that formed the greater part of his native tongue.

"More or less what I expected. He was unhappy with the outcome of our first encounter with the orcs."

"It would be difficult to count that as a triumph."

"I know. But Karrell gave me a free hand on this mission, and he knew I wanted to try dialogue before force."

"No one could argue against that being the ideal. But I've yet to see a world where ideal is the norm." He grew reflective. "It occurred to me that it could have been the goblin presence in our party that enraged them."

"How so?"

"Traditionally, goblins and orcs haven't seen eye to eye, shall we say. And not always without good reason."

"I don't think it was that. The fact is I handled it badly."

"You're too hard on yourself."

"No harder than our cause demands. This is my first real mission; I'd hoped to have made a better start."

"There are few precedents to guide us, Pelli. Instrumentalities being so rare, these assignments are very uncommon. Some go their whole lives without having to do what the Corps has asked of you."

"That's hardly an excuse."