Stan Nicholls - Army of Shadows

"Soon as we can."

"Good. Ceragan's starting to look really good compared to some of the places we've been."

"Yeah, well, hold on. The stars didn't get us there last time we tried. We have to work that problem out."

"That must have been something you did wrong, Stryke."

"If I did, I did it wrong a lot of times."

"So how we going to sort that one?"

"I don't know. Maybe — "

"Excuse me," Spurral interrupted, "but what about these dwarf survivors?" She waved a hand in their direction. They were sitting morosely by themselves further along the beach.

"What about 'em?" Haskeer said.

"We've got to take them home. Back to their island."

"Shit, can't somebody else do that?"

"Who? The kelpies aren't a seafaring race."

Coilla nodded. "She's right."

"Yes," Stryke agreed. "We take them back. Then we'll think about the stars."

"But we won't think about them tonight," Spurral announced. "The kelpies are laying on a celebration for everybody, and they're keen on celebrations, I can tell you."

"And to spice it up a bit," Coilla added, "I've got a little something here I found in a cabin on the goblins' ship. Didn't mention it before; thought it might be a surprise." She took out a small black pouch, loosened its strings and poured some of the contents into her hand.

The others crowded round and instantly recognised the heap of tiny pinkish crystals.

"Pellucid," Haskeer all but drooled.

Coilla clamped her hand shut. "But only with the permission of our captain, of course."

"What do you say, Stryke?" Spurral wanted to know. "Do we deserve a little relaxation after all we've been through?"

"There were a couple of times when crystal led us to some bad outcomes," he replied, stern-faced. A smile cracked it. "But I don't think this is going to be one of them."

The celebration was good. It must have been, because most of those present would never be able to remember it.

There was drinking, feasting, boasting and inane giggling. The latter was due to the pellucid, which bathed the proceedings in a dreamy, kaleidoscopic haze.

A high point, for Wheam if no one else, came when the tyro, sober and without the benefit of crystal at that juncture, came to them excitedly. He was holding something.

"Look what I found on the ship!" he exclaimed.

"What'd ya say?" Haskeer mumbled, his eyes red pinpoints.

"I thought that if Coilla found that crystal lightning on the ship there might be other things of value. And I found this!" Beaming, he held up the object.

"Wha'issit?"

"A lute! It's not like any I've seen before, it's a goblin one I suppose, not that you'd think those creatures would appreciate music, but you never know, do you, anyway it's more or less the same as the sort I'm used to, so I thought — "

" Aaarrghh! Talk plain. And slow."

"Ah. Yes. I found this lute." He held it aloft once more, and wobbled it. "It'll replace the one I lost. I can sing my ballads again."

"If I could get up, I'd kill you."

"So you don't fancy hearing anything now then?"

They say that even when Wheam started to run, Haskeer was still crawling after him.

There were a lot of thick heads the next morning, and Dallog was kept busy tending minor wounds inflicted during the horseplay. But the band was accustomed to quick recoveries after revelry, and dunkings in the tepid brine, voluntary and otherwise, sobered the majority.

Anxious as everybody was to be off, the kelpies insisted on a prolonged farewell ceremony complete with rambling speeches and numerous toasts. Though Stryke ordered that the latter should be in coconut milk as opposed to alcohol.

They finally shipped out mid-morning.

The journey back to the dwarfs' island was without event, which at least gave the band a chance to fully recover. Jup's spirits had soared. Not that much was seen of him and Spurral during most of the voyage. The only damp blanket was Standeven, unsurprisingly, who continued to brood when he wasn't dogging Stryke's footsteps.

At first, their arrival caused something of a panic. The islanders assumed that the advent of a three-master meant another visitation by Gatherers. Once that was sorted, and it soaked in that the slavers had been defeated, there were joyful scenes. The Wolverines, partied out, accepted the accolades with fixed, clenched-toothed smiles.

As soon as they could, Stryke and his principal officers slipped away. Pepperdyne accompanied them, and Standeven tagged on, like a dependant cur. They made their way up to one of the dead volcano's lower ledges.

Stryke surveyed the view. "Seems fitting that we should leave this world from the place where we entered it."

"And good riddance," Haskeer offered.

"Oh, I don't know," Coilla said. "Just look at it. There are a lot worse places."

"To hell with it; I want to get back to Ceragan."

"We're assuming we can get back. I mean, we didn't intend being here."

"Remember what the kelpies said?" Spurral reminded them. "About there being islands occupied by orcs? If the stars let you down maybe you could make a life here. Perhaps we could even find an uninhabited island and — "

"You're forgetting something," Stryke said. "Some of us have mates and hatchlings in Ceragan."

"Sorry. Of course you have. I was being thoughtless. But — and don't take this the wrong way — there should be a fallback plan if the stars don't get you home."

"But we won't know that until we try them," Coilla reminded her. "And if they take us somewhere other than Ceragan, what's the odds they'd bring us back here?"

"It's a good point, Stryke," Dallog reckoned. "Surely the only real decision is whether we try using the stars or not."

"I know. My head's full of it. But my instinct is to try. I want to do all I can to get back to my brood."

"I can understand that," Jup said.

"It gets my vote," Haskeer chipped in.

"I think you might have been right about it being me making a mistake, Haskeer," Stryke admitted. "I must have set them wrong."

Coilla nodded. "And no wonder, given how rushed we were."

"Think you can get it right this time, Stryke?" Standeven wanted to know.

"What's it to you?" Haskeer sneered.

"I just want to be sure we do it properly this time."

" We? What makes you think you're included?"

"You can't just leave us here!"

"Why not? We're not your mother!"

"We've been through all this," Stryke returned sternly. "We've already said we'll take the humans back to Maras-Dantia. I gave my word."

"What are we now," Haskeer grumbled, "wet-nurses?"

"I'll have no more argument. It's decided."

"Well, sorry to go on about it," Jup put in, "but did we ever really resolve what happens to Spurral and me?"

"We said you'd be welcome in Ceragan," Coilla replied.

"Yeah, and we appreciate it," Spurral responded. "But with respect, I don't know if we want to spend the rest of our lives in an orcs' world."

"And you haven't changed your minds about being in Maras-Dantia? You don't want to go back?"

Jup and Spurral exchanged a look. They shook their heads.

"Why can't they stay here?" Haskeer wanted to know, jabbing a thumb at them. "This is a place for dwarfs."

"It isn't a dwarfs' world," Spurral explained, as though to a hatchling. "It's a… dumping ground."

"Let's stick to what we agreed," Stryke decided. He indicated Pepperdyne and Standeven. "We take these two back to where we found 'em, in Maras-Dantia. Jup and Spurral can come with us to Ceragan."

"Then what?" Jup wanted to know. "For me and Spurral, I mean."

"We can try to figure out the stars, and the amulet. Maybe — "

"Maybe we can find a way to send them to a dwarf world?" Coilla finished for him. "It's a long shot, Stryke. What if we never — "