Stan Nicholls - Army of Shadows

"Now what?" Jup wondered, staring up at the massive wooden wall overshadowing them.

Figures appeared at the ship's rail and looked down at the boats. They were of diverse species, and familiar to the orcs.

"It's them all right," Dallog said. "The bunch from Acurial. And there's that elf who leads them."

"Attention, Wolverines!"

"What the hell?" Jup exclaimed.

"This is Pelli Madayar."

"How is her voice that… loud?" Dallog said.

"It's being amplified in some unnatural way," Pepperdyne reckoned.

"Must be magic," Stryke agreed.

"Hear me, Wolverines! We have to talk."

"About what?" Stryke yelled.

"The topic I broached with you in Acurial."

"She's on about the stars again," Jup said.

Stryke nodded. "You've had your answer on that!" he shouted back. "Nothing's changed!"

"I have to insist that we negotiate. Heave to and board our ship."

"No way!"

"Would you prefer that I came down to you? To show good faith."

"You don't get it, do you? There's nothing to talk about!"

"Refusal isn't an option, Captain Stryke. If you won't negotiate, I must demand that you hand over the artefacts."

"Demand be fucked!" Haskeer thundered loud enough for all to hear.

"Who they hell do they think they are?" Coilla added, enraged.

"Steady!" Stryke cautioned. To Pelli Madayar he bellowed, "You were told before: we don't take kindly to demands!"

"Then we cannot be held responsible for the consequences of your obstinacy."

"Why can't she talk plain like everybody else?" Haskeer grumbled.

"Pass on the word to be ready to move," Stryke told Dallog under his breath.

" This is your last chance, Wolverines," Pelli warned. "I strongly advise you to lay down your arms and parley with us."

"Go!" Stryke roared. " Move! Get those oars moving!"

The boats glided away, the rowers straining. Stryke was no seafarer, but he knew a sailing ship couldn't set off from a standing start the way his boats could. He just hoped they'd get enough of a head start to stand a chance.

But the Gateway Corps had no need of pursuit.

The orcs had barely escaped the shadow of the ship when the air crackled. A blinding luminous beam struck the short stretch of water between the two boats.

More shafts of incandescent light, red, purple and green, immediately followed. All came close to the vessels, but like the first they punched the ocean. Where they landed, the water boiled and gave off clouds of steam.

"Are they warning shots?" Pepperdyne wondered.

"Either that or they're lousy at aiming," Stryke came back.

No sooner had he spoken than a fiery bolt struck the craft Coilla commanded. It wasn't a direct strike; the beam sliced into the rail and clean through one of the oars, neatly severing it. The impact was enough to rock the boat.

"To hell with this," Stryke cursed. "If one of those hits dead-on we're done for."

"So what do we do?" Jup said.

"Give 'em something back." He yelled an order stridently enough that it could be heard on both boats.

Stryke had had the foresight to place a more or less equal number of the band's best archers in each vessel. The order he issued, using phrases that meant nothing to outsiders, told them which strategy to use.

They plucked prepared arrows, with tips wrapped in tar-smeared windings. Sparks were struck, igniting the bolts. Then, at Stryke's signal, they were loosed in the direction of the ship — not at any of the beings on board, but at the sails. Most of the viscous, flaming missiles found their target, igniting the sheets. In seconds, several patches were ablaze. Figures could be seen running about the deck.

"Now let's move!" Stryke shouted.

The boats pulled off again. To their rear, the sails were well alight. Several more energy beams flared from the ship, but they were wide of the mark.

"That'll give the bastards something to think about," Jup commented.

"For now," Stryke said. "But I don't think they're the sort to give up too easily. Come on, rowers! Put your backs into it! "

It didn't take them too long to put a respectable distance between themselves and the burning ship. Nevertheless, Stryke didn't let the boats slacken their pace. He wanted to get as far away as possible.

"What do you reckon to the damage on the other boat?" he asked Pepperdyne.

"Hard to say without actually being over there. But it doesn't look too bad from here. It's not been holed, that's the main thing. We should be able to patch it up soon as we get the chance."

"Good enough."

Throughout the whole episode Standeven had done exactly what they expected of him: he kept low and cowered. Now he rose and gingerly made his way to Stryke and Pepperdyne.

Seeing him approach, Stryke said sarcastically, "Come to help, have you?"

"No," the human replied soberly, as though it were a genuine question. "I wondered…"

"Spit it out."

"I wanted to be sure the instrumentalities were safe."

Stryke glared at him. "What?"

"They're secure, right?"

"What the hell's that got to do with you?"

"It concerns all of us. They're our only way to — "

"They're just fine." Despite himself, Stryke's hand instinctively went to the pouch.

"You're sure that they — "

"Why the interest? What business is it of yours?"

"Like I said — "

"Ignore him, Stryke," Pepperdyne intervened. "It's just his weak-minded fear talking."

Standeven shot him a venomous look.

"Well, he can keep his fears to himself in future and let me look after the stars."

"Of course, Captain," Standeven said, oozing with sycophancy. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He turned and picked his way back to his seat.

Stryke glanced at Pepperdyne. The human didn't meet his gaze.

Jennesta enjoyed few things more than a spot of mayhem and arson.

Having relished the former, she brought about the latter.

The surprise attack, using overwhelming forces and aided by her magic, had succeeded. Now the settlement burned. Some of the creatures fought on, as she had fully expected their kind to do, but the pockets of resistance were isolated. And as the camp was on the small side there were few of them to defend it; even she might have hesitated before venturing into one of their more densely populated regions.

She had given strict orders about which of the creatures her followers were to search for, and that they were on all accounts to be taken alive. The rest she had no concern for.

But now she was growing impatient. The ones she sought had not yet been found. Her underlings would rue the day if she had to take a hand herself. It was true that many of them were unnerved by the crossing, but that just made them weaklings in her eyes, not needy. She filled her time with some creative thinking about the form punishments would take.

Her reverie was broken by the arrival of a nervous officer. In the best tradition of those who wish to keep their heads, he broke the good news first. Their principal quarry had been caught, albeit at the cost of several of Jennesta's followers' lives and only by the use of an awe-inspiring number of troops. The less-than-good news was that the two other targets, the younger ones, had got away.

She expressed her anger at the less than perfect outcome, but it was really just a matter of giving the officer what he expected of her. In truth she was content. She had the important one.

The prisoner was brought to her. It was chained and well attended, yet still needed several of her undead guardians, including Hacher, to keep it in check. The creature was haughty, and when Jennesta approached, it spat at her face. She had it beaten for that.

Once the beast was further secured, and as fire and bloodshed held sway outside, Jennesta set to work.