Stryke beckoned Coilla, Jup and Pepperdyne to accompany him. He left Haskeer in charge.
They followed Zoda into the jungle. It took just a few minutes to reach a clearing, an area where the vegetation had been trampled flat and several trees bodily uprooted. Gleadeg, one of the other scouts, was waiting for them. He wasn't alone.
Stryke took one look and said, "I was right."
The creature before them did look like a horse, but not entirely so. It was about the same size as a pony, but much more muscular and powerful-looking. With the exception of its mane, which was dark grey, it was completely black with no markings of any kind save a little patch, again grey, about its eyes. Its skin wasn't like a horse's at all; it was smooth and oily in appearance, resembling a seal's coat. There was a very unusual aspect to its mane, too: it exuded a steady trickle of water, as though it were a gently squeezed sponge. The water ran down the creature's shiny flanks and fell in drops.
"You're a kelpie?" Stryke asked.
"I am," the water horse replied, its voice low and throaty. "And you are orcs."
"You know us?"
"I know of your race." He looked to Jup. "And I have communed with dwarfs." The kelpie bobbed its great head in Pepperdyne's direction. "And I am more than familiar with his kind. Unhappily so."
"I can vouch for this human. He means you and your kin no harm."
"That's hard to believe of his race. But he hasn't yet struck me down or tried to enslave me so I must take your word for it."
Pepperdyne looked embarrassed.
"Your kind are rare where we come from," Coilla said. "They say it's wise to keep away from you, that you lure hatchlings to watery graves so you can eat their hearts. It's even said that you're really the spirits of evil creatures who have died badly."
"Many untrue things are said about orcs too," the kelpie replied. "Do you eat your young? Are you the twisted offspring of elves? Do you murder the innocent for the sheer pleasure of it? Like you, we kelpies are subject to hatred and fear simply because we are different and prefer a solitary path."
"Well said."
"There is one true story told about us, however. Above all else we value our freedom." The subject was painful enough to mist the kelpie's startlingly blue eyes. "To us, enslavement is worse than death."
"Yet it looks like that's been your fate," Stryke commented. "Why are you here?"
The kelpie looked to Pepperdyne again. "Because his folk brought us here by force, as they have since time out of mind."
"Why is no one ever pleased to see me?" Pepperdyne asked.
"Now you know how we feel," Coilla told him.
"The ones who brought you here," Jup said, "are they called Gatherers?"
"Yes," the kelpie confirmed.
"So how do the goblins fit into this?"
"The Gatherers are the catchers of slaves. The goblins buy. A few for themselves, but mostly to be sold on in turn. They stand between the slavers and their prey's ultimate masters. Their role is to match suitable slaves to the tasks they will undertake. So it's trolls or gnomes for islands where mining takes place, elves and brownies for houses of pleasure, gremlins for the drudgery of scholarly work. Even orcs, to provide bodyguards for petty tyrants. Though they are notoriously hard to break, you'll be proud to hear."
Coilla frowned. "There are islands here where orcs live?"
"Oh, yes. None near to this one, however, and even the Gatherers hesitate to try plundering them."
"And what about kelpies? What sort of so-called owners are found for you?"
"We are in demand on many islands."
"You have special skills?"
"No. It seems we make good meat."
The silence that followed was broken by Jup. "How did you escape the goblins?"
"Purely by chance. A rare lapse of attention on their part let me seize the opportunity to get away. I believe the only reason they haven't mounted a search for me is because, as my kind counts time, I am old. Very old. My flesh would be too tough!" He gave a watery, snorting laugh. "There's no profit to them in wasting energy on me. Particularly as they are presently small in number."
"How small?" Stryke wanted to know.
"Barely two score. Normally there are many more present, but the rest are away delivering the latest batch of… goods. That's why there are only kelpie prisoners here at the moment."
"Why haven't you tried to overcome them yourselves, while their numbers are low?"
"We are hampered in two ways. First, we have no leadership. It's not our way. We are a fiercely independent breed." He sighed. "And look where it's got us."
"And second?"
"Can you who dwell solely on the land imagine what it is to be dependent on water? We have to wallow in its life-giving essence several times a day. Our lives depend on it. A kelpie deprived of water dies a horrible and lingering death. We can hardly mount an uprising when weighed down with that necessity. I myself have to visit the shore daily to bathe. I don't doubt they will catch me there one day and kill me."
"No they won't. We're gonna help you."
"You are?"
"You bet," Coilla said.
"Definitely," Pepperdyne and Jup chorused.
The kelpie was taken aback. "The human too? What have we done to deserve this?"
"Let's just say we're like you: we value freedom," Stryke said. "Do you have a name?"
"Of course."
"What is it?"
"It would do you no good knowing, unless you're able to talk underwater."
"Er, no. That's not one of our skills."
"Just call me the kelpie."
"You have our protection. Come with us. You could probably use something to eat. What do you eat?"
"Not the hearts of hatchlings. Our appetites are wide-reaching, but given the choice we favour fish."
"We'll see what we can do."
On their way back to the others, Stryke asked Jup how he felt.
"I'm fearful of Spurral falling into the hands of scum like these goblins."
"So take it out on them until we find the Gatherers."
"I intend to."
"Good. I knew that'd cheer you up."
They waited for dark.
Under cover of night they positioned themselves around the goblin compound. Stryke had sent for the five guarding the boats, to up the numbers. But he kept Standeven well out of things, and relegated Wheam to a backup.
There were perhaps a dozen goblins visible. Most of them bore the metal-topped trident spears they favoured, but also carried blades. The rest of the goblins were either in the various buildings or on the beach near the anchored ships.
"We keep this simple," Stryke whispered to Coilla. "Get in fast, kill 'em."
"So how's that any different to what we usually do?"
"Ready?"
She nodded.
He signalled, and it was passed on.
The first move was down to the archers. They shot bolts into the compound that dropped five or six of the goblins before the others caught on. The next volley was of flaming arrows aimed at the buildings' rush roofs, for chaos' sake.
The blazing arrows were the signal to charge. Out of hiding, the Wolverines swept in from all sides. The goblins who had survived the arrow bombardment were recovering their balance, and the ones in the now-burning buildings had spilled out. Those on the beach, alerted by the fires, were hurrying back.
So the orcs faced the full compliment, and relished it.
Stryke lashed out at the first goblin he met. His blade severed the sinewy neck, sending its head bouncing across the sand. The next took steel to its guts. He disarmed a third by simply doing just that: he lopped off the creature's sword arm, then ran it through.
For Coilla, the lure of her throwing knives had proved too strong. Plucking them from the holsters strapped to her arms, she lobbed in rapid succession. A goblin fell with a blade in its eye; another stopped one with its back. Spotting a goblin rushing at her, its trident levelled, she struck it square to the chest. Yet another caught a knife in what would have been its privy parts, if it had any.