Onlookers got the message. Fearsome as their trident weapons might be, the Helix weren't invulnerable. In seconds they were under siege. Haskeer and his troop melted into the throng.
Stryke and the rebel party stayed out of such clashes. They moved as swiftly as they could towards the turning that led out of the square. But when they were almost at the corner, they halted.
"Oh, great," Coilla grumbled. "More shit."
Two wagonloads of troops came along the street they were heading for. When the wagons reached the square they stopped, blocking the road. The troops began getting out.
"Time for these," Brelan said, digging into the canvas bag hanging from his shoulder. He produced a number of earthen cylinders, similar to water bottles, and handed them out.
Coilla grabbed one gleefully. "I love these things."
"What is it?" Pepperdyne asked.
"Acurialian fire," Brelan told him. The human looked blank. Brelan mimed throwing one, then mouthed, " Boom. "
"I've seen similar," Pepperdyne realised.
" Use 'em," Stryke grated.
They stuck sparks against the oil-soaked wads of fabric stuffed into the containers' necks. When the cloth fuses were well alight they started lobbing. The cylinders soared in the direction of the wagons and disembarking soldiers. They shattered on impact, exploding in plumes of orange fire. The burning oil had been mixed with certain compounds that made it viscous. It stuck fast to whatever it touched, igniting the wagons, the walkway and any troopers unlucky enough to be in range. Converted to fireballs, they stumbled aimlessly, yelling and beating at their clothes. The wagons were blazing.
The few soldiers untouched by fire were either making futile efforts to put out the flames or loosing sporadic arrows in the direction of Stryke's group. But panic made their aim wild. And now they had another problem: the crowd was turning on them. Chunks of paving stone rained down on a scene already engulfed by fiery chaos.
"Should keep 'em busy," Coilla remarked with satisfaction.
"Let's go," Stryke said.
With Pepperdyne back in the middle of the scrum, they bypassed the mayhem and charred bodies without challenge. All over the square the other Wolverines, rebels and Vixens were slipping away too. Singly or in small groups they would make for hideouts or the cover of false identities.
Off from the square, in near-empty streets bled clean by the riot, Stryke, Coilla and the rest met up with their transport.
Bumping along in a covered wagon, moving slowly to avoid attention, they allowed themselves to relax a little.
"Looks like the uniform trick's stopped working," Coilla said.
Pepperdyne nodded. "They were bound to catch on eventually. Your Vixens fought like she-devils, by the way. I've not seen them that ferocious before."
"Then you haven't been moon-gazing lately," Coilla told him.
"Moon-gazing?"
"Not well up on the ways of females, are you, Jode."
Comprehension dawned. "Oh. You mean — "
"The time of the moon's cycle when my sex can get a little… cranky."
"From what I just saw I'd have used a slightly stronger word. Like murderous. But how come you all — "
"You really don't know much about females, do you? When any number of us spend time together in the same place it's not unusual for our cycles to tally. That's what happened today."
Pepperdyne grinned. "A whole squad of moon-crazed she-orcs. Gods help the enemy."
"Gods damn 'em," Brelan said. "But the citizens acted well too. I'm proud of them."
"They do seem to be finding their orcish natures a bit more," Stryke agreed. "But are they ready for a full-scale uprising?"
"The tipping point's near. Very soon my mother, as principal, will come out of hiding and make her rallying call. After that, what happened today's going to look like a picnic."
"Let's hope," Coilla remarked cautiously.
The wagon was arriving at its destination. It pulled through high gates and into the courtyard of an abandoned villa the resistance had occupied. It looked as though none of the other rebels had got back yet.
As they were climbing out, Wheam said, "Today was a great success, wasn't it, Brelan?"
"It was a success. Not sure about great."
"But the sort of thing orcs will be telling tales about for generations. A tipping point, you said."
"If it helps bring about the revolution," Brelan conceded, "it could be remembered as a key day."
"And the wordsmiths will tell tales about it, and the balladeers will sing songs."
Coilla groaned. "I can see where this is going."
"As it happens," Wheam sailed on, "I've already begun composing an epic ballad about this great day." He pointed at his brow. "Here. In my head."
"I'm surprised there's room for it," Coilla observed.
"I don't have my lute with me, of course…"
"Oh, good," Pepperdyne said.
"… But I'm sure I could give you a recital without it."
"Yes, well — " Stryke began.
"But bear in mind that it's a work in progress."
"Aren't they all," Coilla muttered.
They were walking towards the safe house's doors. As Wheam spoke, they all increased their pace.
"I call it 'The Battle of the Square,' " he intoned grandly, and cleared his throat. T'was upon that fateful day we beat the foe to their dismay With blade and axe we thrashed them sound All round the square and into the ground And all who were there, you could hear them say That was the day we made the humans go away
"That bit needs some work. It goes on… Oh let the humans wail, oh let them grieve Oh let their hearts bleed, oh let -
"Oh, let up!" Coilla snapped.
"Wouldn't you like to hear the bit about how — "
"Moon!" she barked threateningly, jabbing a finger at her chest.
Wheam flinched and fell silent, crestfallen.
As they approached the safe house the doors were thrown open. A couple of resistance members came out, and Jup and Spurral were close behind them. Their expressions were grim.
"What's happened?" Stryke said as he pushed his way in.
"We've had an… incident," Jup replied.
"What?" Brelan demanded.
The dwarfs exchanged glances. "Best to show you," Spurral said.
The place was in turmoil as they led them through the house and down the steps to the extensive cellars.
Passing through an arch and into one of the smaller rooms, Jup pointed. "There."
The others crowded in. On the rough flagstones the corpse of an unknown orc lay in a pool of blood. On the other side of the chamber Standeven was held fast by a pair of rebels.
"What the hell have you done?" Pepperdyne said.
7
"Somebody better tell me what happened here," Brelan demanded.
"This is how we found it," one of the rebels holding Standeven said. "With him standing over the corpse. And he had this." He held up a bloody knife.
"Who is he?" Stryke asked, nodding at the dead body.
They all shook their heads.
"He's a stranger to me," Brelan confirmed. He turned to Standeven. "Did you do this?"
"Yes." He was pale, and he was shaking. There were beads of sweat on his pallid brow.
"Have you gone insane?" Pepperdyne exclaimed.
"Let him speak," Stryke said.
"It was self-defence," Standeven claimed. "I'd no choice." He was growing agitated. "I'm not the villain here! You should thank me for — "