Stan Nicholls - Army of Shadows

"Maybe we'll have better luck hand to hand with them."

"Dream on," Haskeer growled. "Those wizards are too powerful for steel to make any headway. Use the stars and get us out of here."

"No. Even if I wanted to, the band's scattered all over the place. We'd leave half our strength behind."

"Here they come!" Coilla shouted.

A good dozen of the attackers were drawing close. Pelli Madayar was at their head. Behind her tramped a colourful assortment of elder races.

"There's a couple of fucking goblins with 'em!" Haskeer exclaimed.

"Should have known those bastards would have something to do with this," Jup snapped.

The advancing party were still spraying the area with their magic beams.

"Ready to engage!" Stryke ordered.

Orcs drew second weapons, nocked bows and primed slingshots.

When they were no more than ten paces distant, Pelli Madayar held up her hand. The group stopped, as did the bombardment.

"We don't have to do this, Stryke!" she called out.

Ignoring the others' gestures to stay put, Stryke stepped out from behind the rock. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"We're not your enemies, whatever you think. You know what we want. The instrumentalities, that's all."

"All?"

"You can save yourselves further grief very simply. Just hand them over."

"Like hell we will."

"You have no right to them."

"And you do?"

"Morally… yes."

"Fancy words from somebody who just tried to kill us."

"We weren't trying. Look, if you're worried that giving up the artefacts means we'll leave you stranded here, don't be. Maybe I can arrange to have your sent to your home world."

"Maybe? That doesn't sound too promising to me."

"I have to consult a higher authority."

"This is my higher authority," Stryke told her, holding up his sword. "And it says no."

"Be sensible. What you've just seen is only a taste of the power we command. If we turned it on you full force you wouldn't stand a chance."

"We'll play those odds."

Pelli sighed. "This is so pointless. Why are you so intent on wasting your lives for the sake of — " She stopped, as though hearing a voice no one else heard. Then she turned to look out to sea.

A small armada of ships were making for shore.

All of the strangers turned to look, contemptuously offering their backs to the Wolverines. The band, too, came out from their shelter and stared.

"This place is as busy as a whorehouse on payday," Haskeer muttered.

It was obvious that the arrival was as much of a surprise to the strangers as it was to the orcs.

Feeling as though he'd been virtually dismissed, Stryke backed off and rejoined his crew.

"Who the hell's knocking at the door now?" Coilla said.

"I don't know. More Gatherers?"

"No," Pepperdyne told them. "Definitely not Gatherers. Look!"

One of the fleet of five ships was engaging with the strangers' vessel. And it was doing it magically. Vividly hued beams shot from craft to craft.

Seemingly having forgotten the Wolverines, Pelli and her ill-assorted group began jogging towards the shoreline. Before they reached the waves they were sending out shafts of their own.

"What the fuck is going on?" Haskeer demanded.

"Looks like our enemy has an enemy," Stryke replied.

"Which would be fine," Jup pointed out, "if our enemy's enemy wasn't our enemy too."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Take a look at that ship coming into shore, the leading one. It's prow-on. See? Now do you notice somebody standing there, right at the front, bold as shit?"

"Yeah," Haskeer said, blinking and with a hand shading his brow.

"Recognise who it is?"

It was Coilla who answered. "Jennesta," she whispered.

"I thought the stars were supposed to be incredibly rare," Coilla said, "but it looks as though everybody's got them."

"Maybe we've just run into everybody who has got them," Pepperdyne suggested.

Down on the beach the magical battle raged. The new arrivals had sent in boats of their own. They were running a shuttle, dropping troops off in shallow water and going back for more. The soldiers were Jennesta's human followers, along with a much smaller number of her zombie personal guard. But they seemed no more able to overcome the strangers' magic than the orcs were. That was for Jennesta. Ashore now, and sweeping majestically up the beach, she was essentially waging the war single-handedly and, considering her opponents' might, making a good job of it.

Stryke figured that if they couldn't fight the strangers' magic, they could fight Jennesta's army. As there was no way to escape, he argued, they could at least kill something.

At first it went well. They charged into the fray and gave a good account of themselves, downing troops and hacking zombies to pieces. But it didn't take long for both Jennesta and the strangers to notice them. A bombardment of enchantments forced the band to retreat. Though Stryke wasn't alone in thinking that, vicious as their magic was, neither side was actually trying too hard to kill them.

The band pulled back to the edge of the beach and the shelter of rocks.

"The stars!" Haskeer pleaded. "Use 'em now!"

"Lay off!" Stryke snapped. "Coilla! Are we all here?"

"No. We're missing Dallog, Wheam and a couple of the other tyros."

"Bloody typical," Haskeer moaned.

"I'll go and look for them," Stryke decided.

"I'll come with you," Coilla told him. "No, no argument. You'll need somebody to watch your back."

"All right."

"Me too," Pepperdyne said.

"No," said Stryke.

"Going to stop me?"

"If I have to. But better that you stay here and help hold our position."

"But — "

"Do it, Jode," Coilla said. "I'll… We'll be fine."

"If you're going," Haskeer grated, "you better get a fucking move on."

Stryke tossed his head. "Come on."

They ran towards the scrum.

The bodies barring their way were all human or zombie. The wizardry was taking place farther down the beach, at the water's edge. But soldiers and the undead were still a formidable obstacle.

Stryke and Coilla hacked, slashed, stabbed and battered their way through them. They had a few errant energy bolts to dodge on the way. Some of Jennesta's horde weren't so lucky.

"I see 'em!" Coilla yelled. She pointed.

Dallog and a couple of tyros were slugging it out with twice their number of soldiers.

Coilla and Stryke fought their way to them.

Their blades quickly turned the tide. A bloody exchange saw the attackers overcome.

"Where's Wheam, Dallog?" Stryke asked.

"Down there!"

Further along the beach, Wheam was trying to hold off a pair of zombies. He had his new musical instrument strapped to his back, and looked more worried about protecting it than about himself.

"I'll get him," Stryke said.

"We'll come!" Coilla and Dallog chorused.

" No. I'll not have the band scattered again. Get yourselves back to the others. Now."

They left reluctantly. He plunged back into the fray.

Coilla, Dallog and the tyros had as tough a path to travel on the way back as she and Stryke had had on the way out. The troops seemed to be everywhere, and none left them unchallenged. By the time their goal was in sight, their blades ran with gore.

"Can you make it alone from here, Dallog?" Coilla said.

"'Course."

"Get on then."

"What about you?"

"I'm going after Stryke."

"But he said — "

"Just get these two back, all right?" She ran off.

Stryke came at one of the zombies from the back and ran it through. True to experience it hardly registered the blow. So he took to chopping at it, as though he were felling a dead tree. When enough major damage had been inflicted the armless creature hopped on its one leg for an instant, then collapsed. The second zombie Stryke simply decapitated, sending its head bouncing in the blood-soaked sand.