Pepperdyne had the by-now-familiar experience of confronting foes surprised to be facing a human. For the goblins, he guessed, humans meant Gatherers and grubby mutual interest. They were stunned to be attacked by one. Their initial hesitation was a bonus he seized. His sword hewed wiry flesh.
Haskeer, battling nearby and trying not to admire the human's style, spat on subtlety, as usual. He brought down the first goblin he came across with bare fists, then snapped its curved spine over his knee. The one after that he eviscerated.
All acquitted themselves well, even the seasoning tyros. But Jup outshone. He fought with a ferocity to equal that of the matchless orcs. Spurred by frustration and fury, drunk on bloodlust, he gave no quarter. Armed traditionally with his staff, and having a long-bladed knife to hand, he thundered into the goblins like a pint-sized tsunami. He shattered skulls and ripped through throats. Landing a particularly vicious blow, he propelled a goblin over the fence and into the kelpies' pool. They put paid to it with thrashing hooves and snapping teeth.
The moment arrived, as it does in every battle, when it dawned on the victors that there was no one left standing to fight. A quick search of the buildings that escaped the fire, and the surrounding area, confirmed it.
The kelpie prisoners were liberated. They scrambled from the pool and shook themselves. Some pawed the ground, as though that was a pleasure they had long been deprived of.
Stryke got his officers together, and the ageing kelpie joined them.
"We've got to make a choice," Stryke told them. "Either we push on to the Gatherers' island or we stay here in the hope that Spurral and the slavers turn up. You should have first say on this, Jup."
"I… I honestly don't know, chief. My instinct is to go on. Then again, knowing this is where the slaves are brought…"
"It's one place they are brought," the kelpie corrected. "This isn't the only island where goblins, and other races, collect slaves."
"Shit. So Spurral might not be brought here?"
"Don't despair. This is the most likely place. But your mate has not arrived yet, which, given when she was taken, makes me think the Gatherers are sticking to their pattern."
"What do you mean?"
"The time when they come has never been predictable, but the order of their coming is always the same. The Gatherers' next port of call after raiding the dwarfs' island is invariably our own. Take us to our island, Wolverines, and there's a chance this Spurral of yours can be found. There's nothing here for us. We want to go home."
"What do you think, Jup?" Stryke asked.
"Gods, this is getting so complicated. But it seems to make sense."
"You're forgetting that we've only got two small boats," Coilla reminded them, "and one of those damaged."
"And you're forgetting those," the kelpie said. "He tilted his head to indicate the beach and the anchored craft. "Why use a boat when you can have a ship?"
"I'd feel a damn sight better in one of those," Haskeer announced.
Stryke turned to Pepperdyne. "Could we handle one of those goblin ships?"
He took a look. "I reckon so."
"All right then. We leave at first light."
The kelpie nodded contentedly. "Good. I can assure you of a warm welcome. Few are as hospitable as the kelpies."
23
The darkness dissolved, to be replaced by a blinding light.
Spurral was on her back, staring up at the Sun. She turned her head to avoid its punishing glare. There were fiery floats in her eyes and she blinked to rid herself of them. She had no idea where she was. As the floats faded and her faculties returned, so did the memory: of the ship, the Krake and what had happened.
She became aware of the sound of pounding waves, and when she reached out a hand it came into contact with wet sand. Water was lapping at her feet and thighs. Her sodden clothes were steaming gently in the heat.
Slowly, painfully, she got up and tried to make sense of her surroundings.
She was on a long, golden beach. Wreckage and general debris were deposited along the shoreline, including a couple of large sections of ship's decking. She guessed that she had probably clung to one of them, although she had no recollection of it.
Behind her, the beach stretched back a long way until it met a jumble of palm trees and other vegetation. Above the trees she could see the peaks of several small mountains of greyish rock, gleaming in the sunlight. There was no sign of habitation.
She stilled. Mixed in with the crash of waves and shrieking gulls there seemed to be something else. It took her a moment to realise it was someone shouting. As she attuned herself to it she grasped that there was more than one voice.
Looking along the beach to her left, she saw nothing. It was a different story to her right. In the far distance she could see figures. There appeared to be seven or eight of them. They were humanoid in shape and looked as though they were waving.
As she watched, trying to make out who or what they might be, it became obvious they were heading her way. Spurral hesitated for a moment. Then, spurred by hope, she began to run towards them.
It felt as though it took forever to cover the expanse of beach between her and the approaching figures. As she moved, her legs growing leaden with the effort of running through the obstructive sand, she became conscious of how much she ached. The battering she had taken when the ship went down, and presumably afterwards when she was at the mercy of the tides and drifting flotsam, was starting to make itself felt. Her elbows were grazed, there was a dull pain in her back and she noticed large blue-black bruises coming up on her pumping arms. But the prospect of someone else being on an island she had thought deserted kept her going.
When she finally got close enough, she saw that the figures were dwarfs. Closer still, she recognised Kalgeck among them. Then they met and she was hugging him, relieved and frankly amazed that her friend had also survived the catastrophe. His companions, five males and two females, all young, clustered round joyfully.
"Are you injured?" Kalgeck asked, surveying her.
"I was lucky. Just a few knocks. How about all of you?"
"Fortune smiled on us, too. Our injuries are slight. It was a miracle."
"It's hard to argue with that. But… are you all there is?"
His expression turned solemn. "As far as we can tell. We've not been looking for too long, but apart from each other, and now you, we've seen no one else."
"You couldn't have looked everywhere. It could be survivors have washed up elsewhere on this island, or even other islands."
"Yes, we'll have to hope for that. But it does seem a mockery by fate if my kin should beat the Gatherers only to perish because of the Krake."
"It would," she agreed glumly. "How about the Gatherers? You've not come across any of them?"
Kalgeck shook his head. "But most of them were imprisoned belowdecks, remember."
"Yes, of course. I could almost feel sorry for them."
"It's hard for us to think that way about them. They caused us so much misery."
"I know, and I can't blame you for it. Still, it's possible some of them might have made it here. We should take care."
"What do we do now?"
"Do you know where we are? Or anything about this island?"
"No."
"All right. So let's find out if it's inhabited, and if it is, whether the natives are friendly or not. But first we ought to look through the wreckage for anything useful, like provisions."
"I already found this." He held out a water flask.
"Oh, great. Can I? I'm parched."
As she drank, Kalgeck said, "It doesn't look like there's a lot else, though." He was staring at the wreckage she had washed in with.