"Lashing the boats together."
"Doesn't that mean if one sinks — "
"I thought that. Pepperdyne says no."
"Damn it, Stryke — first that elf tries to fry us and now this. Am I ever going to get to Spurral?"
"I'll make it as quick as I can. We'll be working all out."
"I'm counting on it."
"Meantime, you keep doing whatever it is you do with the farsight. We could use a warning if what you picked up comes our way."
"Sure. But if what I sensed comes our way a warning's not going to help much."
It didn't take long to get the boats secured and plot a new course. The two-boat behemoth they created was ungainly and difficult to manoeuvre, but Pepperdyne maintained it would get them to land.
After a faltering start, because of how cumbersome the vessel had become, they got the hang of handling it. They rowed hard, and there was enough of a prevailing wind to make it worth raising the small sails.
Those who weren't on rowing duty speculated on the mystery of Pelli Madayar's group. Some looked forward to tangling with the Gatherers by recounting previous battles, as orcs were wont to do, and garnished their tales with some light boasting.
A few concentrated on sharpening their weapons. Jup stayed at the prow, looking grim and occasionally dipping his hand in the water. Standeven continued to occupy his lonely place at the stern. He seemed restless, and Pepperdyne, too busy to spend time with him, nevertheless noticed that his one-time master's eyes were rarely off Stryke.
They quickly fell back into toiling at the oars combined with breaks for rest and bluster. A couple of hours into this routine, with the Sun well past its highest point, a lull developed. Wheam tried filling it.
He stood and cleared his throat. No one paid any attention. He cleared his throat again, louder and theatrically. Two or three heads turned but most ignored him.
"Comrades!" he declared. "Shipmates!"
Haskeer groaned.
"It occurred to me," Wheam said, "that this could be the perfect time to give you all the first taste of the epic ballad I've been composing." He pointed a proud finger at his temple. "In my head."
"You haven't got your lute," Coilla reminded him desperately.
"It doesn't matter. All good verse should be as powerful whether spoken or sung."
"How powerful is it if you keep it to yourself?" Haskeer said.
Wheam ploughed on. "This particular extract is about what we're doing right now. It goes, They were cast upon the briny deep For their solemn oath they would keep To rescue a lost comrade true From the sea so very blue! Ooohh they battled magic mean and nasty And their victory was proud and tar-sty
"That should be tasty. I need to work on something else that rhythms with nasty."
"End my life," Coilla pleaded. "Now."
"Tasty?" Haskeer murmured, baffled.
"We could throw him overboard," Stryke said with no trace of humour.
"Anyway," Wheam continued, "the next bit is a kind of chorus. Feel free to join in. They fought the elf They fought the witch One was a pest The other a bitch! Raise your flagons Raise your trumpets The Wolverines Are no dunces!
"Things get really gripping now. In the next thirty verses — "
"Land ahoy!"
It could have been a lie. A frantic attempt by a tormented grunt to ease the pain. No one cared.
In reality, land was in sight. The dark, bumpy outline of an island could be seen on the horizon.
Haskeer raised his eyes heavenward and muttered, "Thank you, gods."
"How we going to handle this, Stryke?" Coilla wanted to know. "If it's inhabited, that is."
"Choices?"
"The usual. Sneak, full frontal or parley."
"Nothing special in mind?"
"Not knowing what the hell we'll face, no."
"We'll try parley. After scouting the lay, of course."
"'Course."
"If it's inhabited and they're hostile," Dallog said, "what then?"
"Friend or foe, we'll get what we need," Stryke vowed. "We've no time to waste."
When they got nearer and the island's features became clear, the saw that several ships were anchored in its largest bay.
"So it is inhabited," Coilla said. "Or at least somebody's visiting."
"I'd say there's a settlement," Stryke reckoned. "Look. Just by the tree line there. Those are some sort of buildings, aren't they?"
She squinted. "Yes, I think they are."
"Then we'll circle from a distance and see if there's somewhere quiet we can land." He turned and shouted, " Get those sails down, now! We don't need spotting! "
When they got round to the island's far side they could see no signs of habitation. They headed for a small, deserted cove, and managed to land on its sandy beach. Stryke ordered the twin boats to be hauled ashore and into the trees, then had them camouflaged. Four privates, including Wheam, were assigned to guard the boats. Standeven was told to stay too, though he uncharacteristically tried to object. Stryke led the rest of the band into the interior.
"Why are we going inland anyway?" Jup asked. "Don't we have what we need where we landed?"
"Not really," Pepperdyne answered. "We could use good seasoned timber for the repairs, and there's nothing suitable. Some serious tools would be handy too."
"And our food and water are running down quicker than I thought they would," Stryke admitted. "That settlement we saw seems the best place to restock. Maybe we can pick up news of the Gatherers there, too."
The island's heart was dense with jungle, and hacking their way through was inevitably a slow job. Anxious to speed things, Jup had suggested taking the much less obstructed coastal route. Stryke thought that would leave them too exposed and vetoed the idea.
But the island was small, certainly compared to the dwarfs' homeland, and the sun had still to set when they arrived at the beachside settlement. They surveyed it from hiding places at the jungle's edge.
There were around half a dozen dwellings of various sizes. An odd feature was a largish pool that had been dug in the clearing in front of the buildings. It was fed with salt water by channels connecting it to the sea, and there was a stout wooden barrier all around it. There were creatures of some kind splashing about in the water. They were of a fair size and dark-skinned, but it was hard to make out what they were.
Other beings were present, and obviously in charge. These were instantly recognisable to the orcs.
"Fucking goblins!" Haskeer growled.
"I gather they're not one of your favourite races," Pepperdyne said.
"We've had run-ins," Stryke told him.
"Maybe they're different here," Coilla ventured.
"Yeah, right," Haskeer came back acerbically.
Pepperdyne was curious. "So what is it about them?"
"They're ugly, back-stabbing, two-faced, mean, greedy, underhanded, stuck-up, cowardly, stinking bastards."
"Those are their good points," Coilla added.
"Given what we've known of them in the past," Stryke said, "we'll forget the parleying. Now let's get some scouts out."
When the pathfinders had left, stealthily blending into the jungle, the others settled to watch what was happening in the encampment.
After a while, Coilla said, "Those creatures in the pool — I reckon they're horses. Or maybe ponies."
"Why would goblins keep horses in a saltwater pool?" Jup reasoned.
"I think Coilla could be onto something," Stryke said thoughtfully.
"You reckon they're horses? What are the goblins trying to do, teach them to swim?"
"No, not horses. Not exactly. And if I'm right, they wouldn't need teaching."
"So what do you think they are?"
"I want a closer look to be sure. Let's think how we can do that."
Zoda, one of the scouts he had sent out, returned at that point. "Chief, you better come and see what we've found."