Stan Nicholls - Army of Shadows

Kalgeck confirmed it. "They're not ordinary horses. They're — "

"Kelpies," one of the creatures grated, trotting forward. "And we would like to welcome you to our island if we were sure you meant no harm."

"We don't," Spurral replied, recovering her poise. "Do we look like raiders?"

"No, you look like bedraggled dwarfs. And as there is no ship off our coast I assume the sea cast you here."

"Yes. We survived a wreck."

"Then you are most fortunate, given some of the perils in these waters."

"We met one of them."

"Doubly fortunate then." He surveyed the dishevelled group. "You must forgive our suspicion. We have few visitors, and those who do come are usually unbidden and mean us no good."

"You wouldn't be talking about humans, would you?"

"They can be among the worst of races, as you dwarfs must surely know."

"You mean the Gatherers."

"That's a name reviled by my kind. Even more so now, as we believe a visitation from them is due. And that always means pain and grief."

"I can set your mind at rest about that. They went down with the ship we were on."

"Truly?"

"Yes."

"And their vile captain?"

"Salloss Vant? Dead."

"You're sure?"

"I saw it."

"Spurral's being modest," Kalgeck interjected. "She's the one who killed him."

Insofar as they could read the kelpie's expression, he looked impressed. "We have been in hiding, hoping against hope that the slavers might pass us by this time. Now you bring us this glad news. Come, your injuries will be tended and you can rest. Then there will be celebrations and feasting in your honour."

"Now you're talking," Spurral told him. "We've had nothing but gruel for days. But tell me, what do we call you?"

"Before I can answer that question," the kelpie said, "I have one for you. How good are dwarves at talking underwater?"

By the time Pelli Madayar's group put out the flaming sails, the Wolverines had made their getaway. She ordered a cleanup and went to her cabin.

The nature of the magic she used to communicate with the Gateway Corps' homeworld was such that it utilised any suitable medium. Seawater was the simplest, most plentiful and by far the most effective channel. She stared into a large bowl of it. The application of certain compounds to make it more receptive, followed by a gestured conjuration, sparked the enchantment.

The water simmered and ran a gamut of colours before settling down. At which point Pelli found herself looking at an image of Karrell Revers, human head of the Corps.

"I hope you have more cheering news for me this time," he said without preamble.

"We've had our second engagement with the orcs."

"And it wasn't a success. I can tell from your expression, Pelli."

"They are a prime fighting unit."

"So are you. Or you're supposed to be." His tone had been much more prickly of late. The strain was telling on him. "Could it be that your failure to overcome the warband is due to your exercising too much restraint?"

"It's true I began by trying negotiation, but — "

"This situation requires a remedy, quickly and decisively. You should have known better than to try parleying with orcs. Force is what they understand."

"I thought we were supposed to stand for moral principles."

"There'll be no principles, moral or otherwise, if instrumentalities fall into the hands of orcs, or worse." Revers softened a little. "I'm sorry, Pelli, but the gravity of what's going on makes it vital that we draw this to a close quickly. Forgive me for saying this, but the impression I have is that things are getting beyond your control there."

"They're not," she assured him, though she didn't entirely believe that herself. "I intend to clear this matter up."

"Then you'll follow my earlier advice."

"Sir?"

"Use the special weapons."

"That could involve the loss of innocent life."

"Not if you proceed with caution when you use them. You've had no luck taming the Wolverines. This could be the only way you'll triumph over them."

"I'll give your advice serious consideration."

"Do it, Pelli."

Without further word his likeness faded and disappeared.

She sighed and got up.

Out on the deck, her second-in-command, Weevan-Jirst, was gazing at his open hand. He held a palm-sized gem of fabulous rarity. Its iridescent surface flashed a series of images.

"Traced them yet?" she asked.

"I think so," he rasped. "They have altered their course, but their destination is predictable."

"Then we'll continue the pursuit as soon as we can."

He looked up from the gem. "You look troubled. Can I ask the outcome of your communication with our leader?"

"We take the gloves off."

Stryke didn't choose the biggest goblin ship. He thought it might stretch the ability of his band to crew it. Pepperdyne would effectively be commanding the vessel, and he agreed.

At first light they loaded whatever provisions they could forage from the ruins of the goblin encampment, got the freed kelpies aboard and set off. The journey, their new allies assured them, would not be lengthy. For Jup, wracked with anxiety and unusually distant, it couldn't be fast enough. He kept himself to himself, and the others mostly let him be.

The ship ploughed on uneventfully until well into the day. During all that time Pepperdyne was up at the wheel, with Coilla beside him.

"You really look in your element," she said.

"It's the first thing I've got real pleasure out of since we set off on this crazy escapade." He gave her a sideways glance. "Apart from the few chances we've had to talk, that is."

She smiled. "Yeah, I've enjoyed that too." She broke eye contact and said, "This ship's certainly much faster than those dwarf boats."

"That's the power of sail." He nodded at the billowing sheets. "And we've been lucky with the wind so far."

"This must be like old times for you."

"Sort of. Though on Trougath we lived more like the dwarfs do here. Coastal sailing mostly. But we had ships too, of course, for trade."

"So you've captained one this big before?"

"Well… not quite. But don't tell the others."

They laughed conspiratorially.

"The principles are more or less the same though," he continued. "Sailing's sailing."

"We couldn't have done this without you, you know."

"I think you could. If there's one thing I've learnt about the Wolverines it's that you're resourceful."

"We've had to be. But whether it runs to commanding a ship…"

"It's easy. Here, try."

"Really?"

"Sure. Come on, take the wheel."

He stepped aside and she grabbed hold.

"Wait a minute," he said, and moved behind her. Arms round her, he took her hands and guided them to a slightly different position. "That's the best way. And don't grip so tightly. Relax. A light touch is best."

"This is fun."

"If you did it long enough you'd get a feel for the vessel. I mean, a real feel for it. Those who do this all the time can sense the mood of the ship."

"Ships have moods?"

"Oh, yes. They're like people. Sorry. They're like people or orcs or…"

She smiled. "You don't have to keep correcting yourself, Jode. I know what you mean."

"Maybe it's because I find it easy to forget our differences."

"We are different."

"In how we appear, sure. But there are deeper things: ways in which all races share certain similarities. That's another thing I've learned during our time together, and I'm grateful for it."

"But you're from Maras-Da — Oops. Now I'm doing it, aren't I? You're not from there, are you? Not in the way I mean."

"No. Same world, different part. The area you come from was always shrouded in mystery for the rest of us. It was a forbidden place. Only when I got there did I realise how many different forms life takes. Whoa! You're letting her drift a bit." He corrected the wheel. "When I said a light touch I didn't mean that light. You have to keep in control or she'll start to rove."