Stan Nicholls - Army of Shadows

"Yeah, a real tragedy."

"You'll just have to compose it in your head," Coilla suggested.

"If there's enough room in there," Haskeer muttered.

Wheam was oblivious to barbs. "This ballad could be the making of me as a songsmith. Once I perform it — "

"You know," Coilla told him, "you really showed some promise back there in Acurial. When you lost your temper with that human over your lute."

"He made me angry. But — "

"Exactly. It brought out your orcishness. Don't you think it's better to try being what you were born for than — "

"Poncing about like a limp-wristed fop with water for blood," Haskeer finished for her.

"Not quite the way I'd have put it," Coilla admitted, "but not far off."

"Why can't I be a warrior and a bard? A warrior-bard."

"Don't think there have been too many of those among our race."

"Then I'll be the first!"

"Just focus on the warrior bit. It's more likely to keep you alive."

"I don't see why I — "

"Just a minute." She was staring out to sea.

"But — "

" Quiet. Look." Coilla stretched an arm to indicate something she'd seen.

"What?" Haskeer said. "Another island?"

"No. Something small, and not far off. See it?"

He squinted, a hand shading his eyes. "Yeah. What is that?"

"Dunno. Could be just a bit of flotsam. Hang on. Something moved."

"I think it's somebody waving," Wheam reckoned.

"You could be right," Coilla agreed. She stood up and hailed the other boat, then gestured towards the object.

Stryke judged it something worth investigating, and ordered the boats to alter course.

As they got nearer, they saw that it was indeed a figure, clinging to a chunk of driftwood.

"It's a dwarf!" Jup exclaimed.

"And female," Pepperdyne added.

When they reached the castaway, oars were upped on one side of Stryke's boat and she was hauled aboard. They laid her on the deck. She was obviously exhausted, and parched from exposure to the Sun, but didn't seem to be seriously hurt. Though she was very frightened.

"It's all right," Jup soothed. "Here, drink this." He pressed a canteen of water to her lips. "Steady, steady. Not too fast."

"I recognise her," Dallog decided.

"I think I do, too," Pepperdyne said. "From the island."

Jup grew animated. "Then she must have been taken with the others." He began lightly slapping the girl's cheeks. "Come on. Wake up."

"Go easy on her," Stryke warned. "She'll come out of it in her own time."

"Here." Pepperdyne handed Jup a brandy flask. "Try her with a little of this."

A trickle of the fiery liquid had the girl coughing, but it put some colour into her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered and opened, and she looked up at them fearfully.

"Everything's all right," Jup assured her gently. "How're you feeling?"

She groaned and tried to say something.

"What's your name?"

She managed, " Dweega." Then she focused and recognised him. "The… god."

"Well, not really."

"I… know. She told… me."

" She? Who told you? Was it Spurral, Dweega? Remember? She was with us on your island."

Dweega nodded.

"She's alive?" Jup asked, not daring to hope.

"Yes."

Jup punched the air. "I knew it!"

"But…"

He sobered. "What?"

"The… Gatherers… Salloss Vant…"

"Who?"

"She's done in," Stryke declared. "Let her rest for a while. At least we know Spurral's alive."

"Or was when this one last saw her."

"Which probably wasn't that long ago," Pepperdyne offered. "You don't get much time when you're adrift, what with the Sun and lack of water. She might only have been out here for a matter of hours."

"Which means the Gatherers' ship can't be far off."

"Yes. Assuming that's where this girl came from, which seems a good bet."

"But which direction?" Jup scanned the ocean.

"Our best plan's to keep going for the Gatherers' base," Stryke decided. "Chances are that's where they're heading."

Jup nodded at Dweega. "So how come this one ended up in the drink?"

"Noticed her leg?" Dallog asked.

They looked, and saw that one of the girl's legs was twisted and distended.

"That's not a recent injury," Dallog continued. "I'd say it's been like that for quite a while. Maybe she was born that way."

Jup's face clouded. "You're saying those bastards dumped her overboard because of it?"

"They're slavers. They've no use for faulty produce."

"Shit. What's Spurral gotten herself into?"

"They've no reason to do the same with her," Stryke reminded him.

"Far as we know. And she's not one to take bullshit from anybody. She could provoke them and — "

"She's smart, Jup. Seems to me she'll know how to play it."

The dwarf nodded, but looked doubtful.

"We push on," Stryke said. "Give this girl dry clothes and see if you can get some food down her. Once she rallies she might tell us more."

It was about time to relieve the first set of rowers, so Stryke ordered the changeover. He got Coilla to do the same on her boat. With fresh bodies at the oars, they set off again at a fast clip.

A couple of hours passed before Dweega started to come to herself. Hesitantly, she told them what she knew about Spurral, and of Salloss Vant.

"You know where they were going?" Stryke asked her.

She shook her head.

"Or where they are now?"

"Roughly. The course they were on, anyway."

"Will you help us track 'em?"

"I'm… frightened. I don't want to go back to… that man."

"It'll be different this time," Jup promised. "Nobody's going to hurt you."

She looked around at the warband, taking in their weather-beaten, scarred faces, and the flint in their eyes. "All right."

"So how far are we from their ship?" Stryke asked.

"Maybe closer than we think," Dallog interrupted. "Look."

Well to their stern was a ship. It was distant enough for the details to be hazy, but the white of its sails was plain to see.

"Could that be them?" Jup wondered, a real edge in his voice.

"No," Pepperdyne said. "It's a different class of ship from the one they had."

"What do you think, Dweega?" Jup said. "Recognise it?"

"He's right. It's not the Gatherers' ship I was on."

"Who says they've only got one ship?" Dallog speculated. "Might be more of 'em."

"Could be," Stryke conceded. "Then again, there must be lots of ships, this being a world of islands."

"I don't think so," Pepperdyne said. "I've been watching it for quite a time, while you were tending the girl. It never varies its speed, never falls back or forges on. It's always at the same bearing. I'd say whoever that is, they're shadowing us."

The casting overboard of Dweega galvanised many of the captive dwarfs. But they knew the Gatherers of old, and their terrible reputation. Angry as they were, and grief-stricken over Dweega, the dwarfs wanted to act but remained fearful. Spurral did her best to change that.

The whipping she and Kalgeck had taken left them pained and badly sore. There was no ministration from the Gatherers, not that they had expected any, but their fellow captives rallied round. They had been stripped of their few miserable valuables, with the exception of a small number of items even the slavers thought worthless. These included certain herbs and salves the dwarves habitually carried. They gave some relief, and speeded healing.

Although she hadn't welcomed the thrashing, Spurral was perversely grateful for it. It sharpened her appetite for revenge, and her fortitude earned her kudos among the other prisoners, making them more open to her whispered seditions. Kalgeck, too, seemed to find resolve in his punishment.

Spurral immediately set them to work making weapons. Nothing resembling blades could be pilfered. So they improvised bludgeons from pieces of timber and sacking. They made slingshots with strips of cloth, and sneaked peach-stones out of the crew's swill buckets for shot. Part of the reason they got away with it was that the slavers had no regard for them. They were too used to plundering the dwarfs' island without opposition, and saw them as timid, unresourceful creatures. The Gatherers had grown complacent, which suited Spurral.