Stan Nicholls - Orcs:Bad blood

They moved off to spread the word.

He looked at Pepperdyne. "Ready for a fast retreat, human?"

"Just say the word."

Stryke signalled Haskeer. The sergeant gave another blast on the horn. Orc archers stepped up their flow of arrows.

The retreat began.

They poured out of the gates and on to the approach road. Shedding excess kit and even some weapons, they headed inland, their pace increasing to a sprint. The tail of the column had barely cleared the fort's precincts when the first of the humans came after them. Orc arrows helped slow the pursuit.

"We're fucked if they've got cavalry," Coilla said, jogging alongside Jup.

"That's right," the dwarf panted, "look on the bright side."

No riders appeared. But more soldiers exited and joined the chase.

The orcs topped a rise and swept down on to the plain beyond. They made for a stand of trees an arrow's flight ahead.

Pepperdyne, next to Stryke at the column's head, glanced back. He saw the pursuing humans on the crest, outlined against the cloudless sky. "Doesn't look like all the garrison. Not by a long shot."

"Good," Stryke replied.

"But why aren't more of them following us?"

Stryke shrugged and upped the pace.

They got to the line of trees and through them. That put them in the first of a series of meadows. They crossed those too, trampling down hedgerows when there was no easier path. Another stretch of open pasture followed, with several copses at its far end.

The humans were still on their trail, but had fallen back some distance.

"Think we might outpace 'em?" Jup asked.

"Wouldn't hold your breath," Coilla said.

"Not a lot left to hold. How much further is it?"

"I reckon we're near. Should see a wood soon. It's past that."

They had a couple more fields to go across before they spotted the wood's edge. Putting on a spurt, they quickly reached it and moved into the trees.

"Be alert!" Stryke warned. "This is a good place to get waylaid. And we've had enough ambushes for one day."

Pepperdyne sidled up to him. "Now I can't see them at all," he said, scanning the open ground they'd just left. "Maybe they've given up the chase."

"Or they're sneaking round to lie in wait for us, like I said. C'mon, and stay awake."

The legion of orcs crept through the woods, keeping vigilant and as quiet as over a hundred hastily retreating warriors could. As they penetrated deeper, dappled sunlight gave way to cool gloom under the leafy canopy. Silence wrapped them, overlaid only by their muffled footfalls on the loam.

After ten minutes of steady tramping they heard something else. A halt was signalled and they listened. It was the unmistakable sound of rushing water, close to hand. They pushed on. The trees began to thin and the light increased. Soon the riverbank was in sight. While the others held back, Stryke and Brelan carried on alone to the water's edge.

The river was wide and fast-flowing. It was thunderous, throwing off spray and spawning white foam where it churned around half-submerged rocks. On the river's far side the wood continued, and beyond it the tops of green hills were just visible.

Brelan cupped his hands over his mouth and gave a passable imitation of shrill birdsong. Further along the bank, five or six of his compatriots came out of hiding.

"Don't ask," Brelan told them as they approached, anticipating their questions about how the raid had gone. Though his expression held all they needed to know.

"We've no time to waste," Stryke said.

Brelan nodded. "Get the others out here."

Stryke gestured to their waiting companions. They started spilling on to the riverbank.

Directed to a spot not far from the rendezvous point, the troop set to clearing away a camouflage of undergrowth. It concealed ten rafts. They were simple but robust, consisting of thick tree trunks lashed together and sealed with tar. Each raft had a crude rudder, and the minimal protection of a waist-high rope on three sides, looped around several timber uprights.

As they were hauled to the water's edge, Coilla joined Stryke.

"Shame Dallog and Wheam aren't here to see this," she said.

"Or Ignar, or any of the others we lost to deceit today."

"You reckon it was treachery?"

"They weren't waiting for us by chance."

"That means somebody in the resistance…" She let the implication hang.

"A mission this big, maybe too many knew the plan."

"Not that many knew all of it. Like using the catacombs."

"There were humans down there."

"What?"

"When we were on the battlements I saw soldiers at the bottom of the cliff. They must have been going for the entrance. Looks like it was Wheam and Dallog's wagon that stopped 'em finding it."

Coilla smiled. "So they did some good." She sobered. "But if the humans knew about the catacombs — "

"There's a spy high up in the resistance? Maybe."

"We're in trouble if there is, Stryke."

"There's nothing we can do about it right now. We have to — "

A chorus of shouting broke out. Orcs were heading up the riverbank, towards a group of figures.

Jup ran past, Spurral in tow. Then Haskeer thundered by, with a bunch of grunts in his wake.

Stryke stared at the commotion. "What the — ?"

"This I don't believe," Coilla exclaimed. "Come on!" She joined the rush.

He followed, and seeing what all the fuss was about, increased his pace.

The advancing figures were orcs. Upwards of a dozen in number, they were bruised and bloodied, with several needing help to walk. And at the forefront were Dallog and Wheam.

Pepperdyne stared at them. "How the hell…?"

Dallog grinned. "Just sheer good fortune."

Coilla gave Wheam's arm a squeeze. "We thought you were lost."

"So did we," the youth replied shakily.

Stryke elbowed his way through. "Didn't think we'd see you again, Corporal. We'd written you off."

"We were lucky," Dallog told him. "The shanties took the brunt when the wagon went over. Most of us came out with petty wounds. Didn't lose a hand."

"There were soldiers," Wheam piped up. "Did you know there were soldiers down — "

"Yeah," Stryke said, "we did."

"Bit of a shock for 'em," Dallog reported, not without relish.

"And fortunate for us. They'd have ambushed us if we'd left through the catacombs. That or come up at our backs inside the fort."

"But if they knew about the tunnel what's to say they know about this escape route too?"

"All the more reason to get out of here, and fast."

Dallog scanned the orcs crowded round. "I don't see Ignar."

"He didn't make it."

The corporal's face dropped. "No?"

"No," Stryke confirmed.

Wheam looked shocked.

"He died well," Stryke added.

"That's a comfort," Dallog replied. "But I promised I'd keep an eye on those young ones."

"So did I."

Dallog nodded. He said nothing for a second, then added, "But the raid was a success, right?"

No one spoke until Pepperdyne offered, "That's debatable."

"Your crew all right to carry on, Dallog?" Stryke asked.

"We'll be fine."

"Then let's move."

Stryke and Brelan snapped orders and the rafts were readied for launch. Each held twelve or more passengers. Wolverines, Vixens and resistance members boarded randomly. The way it fell out, Stryke, Jup and Spurral found themselves on the same raft. Haskeer and Coilla were together on another; Chillder and Brelan on a third; Pepperdyne, Dallog and Wheam on a fourth.

At Brelan's signal the vessels cast off, pushed clear of the bank with rudimentary paddles. The strong current took hold at once, tossing them about like corks and drawing them into midstream. Before things settled down there was some jockeying, the orcs paddling furiously to avoid collisions as the craft rapidly picked up speed.