“Dallog wouldn’t have raised the alarm on this if he thought that’d work. I know you’re frantic about Thirzarr, Stryke, and any delay’s a pisser, but we’ve no option.”
Again he weighed things up. “Do it. But I don’t want to spend any more time there than we have to.”
“Got you.” She jogged back towards the wheelhouse.
They altered course immediately. The winds stayed friendly, even increasing by a few knots, and they made good time. Not long after the sun passed its zenith they spotted one of the necklace of islands. It was tiny, little more than a rock jutting out of the ocean, and they passed it by. The next two or three were about the same. When they reached the first of the bigger islands it proved almost as barren, and in any event there was nowhere to land, unless they wanted to climb sheer cliffs. A couple more minor islands came into view, and true to form they were tediously small and desolate. Everyone on board started to worry. Stryke paced ominously.
The second large island was a different proposition. Even from a distance they could tell it was verdant, so Pepperdyne steered the ship towards it. Stryke ordered the ship to circle the island, and they found that it, too, was protected by tall cliffs. But not on every side. There was a long stretch of beach, its fine, almost white sand stroked by gentle, foam-topped breakers. The beach stretched to a dense, sun-dappled jungle. Stryke had Pepperdyne take them in.
They dropped anchor as near to the shore as they could. The three boats their stolen goblin ship carried were unlashed and lowered. Stryke decided on leaving just a skeleton watch and taking most of the band as the landing party. He wanted a quick excursion, and the more hands the better. Standeven was one of those left on board, to his and everyone else’s relief, and the rest of the watch were told to keep an eye on him.
Before setting out, Stryke told Haskeer to hail the island.
“Why warn ’em?”
“Because we’ve come peaceably. If anything lives here I want them to know that.”
“Our ship’s done a pretty good job of announcing us anyway,” Jup said.
“I still want to make ourselves known,” Stryke insisted. “Do it, Haskeer.”
“Why me?”
“You’ve got the biggest mouth,” Jup told him.
Haskeer glared at him, then cupped his hands and bellowed.
Stryke got him to repeat several times. There was no response.
“We saw no signs of habitation, and there are no ships. It’s got to be deserted,” Jup argued.
“Probably,” Stryke agreed. “But we won’t take any chances. There’ll be three search parties. Haskeer, you lead one; and you, Jup. I’ll take the third. We’ll decide the groups once we hit the beach. Now move.”
They swarmed over the side and filled the boats.
The trip was brief, and soon they were splashing ashore through the shallow, crystal-clear water, colourful fish darting from their path. On the beach, Stryke addressed them.
“Our only job is to fill those.” He pointed at the heap of canteens and cow-gut sacs they’d brought. “You know what to do; look for natural springs or anywhere that might catch rainwater. And hurry. I don’t want us lingering here or-”
Jup was signalling him with one hand and pressing a finger to his lips with the other. He pointed at the jungle. The whole band quietened and looked that way.
They stood in silence for some time, scanning the greenery. It got to the point where they began to think it was a false alarm. Then there was movement in the foliage. Restricted to just one or two places, making it unlikely to be the wind, it was accompanied by a rustling and the snap of dry twigs.
In the undergrowth there was the briefest flash of what appeared to be a pair of vividly red eyes.
“Looks like we’re not alone after all,” Coilla said, reaching for her blade.
5
“Spread out!” Stryke bawled. “And have your weapons ready!”
The band fanned out, swords, axes and spears in hand.
“Do we go in?” Haskeer asked, nodding at the area of jungle where they’d seen movement.
“No,” Stryke decided. “If they’re friendly they’ll come to us. If they’re not, it’s a trap.”
“We can’t stay here for ever,” Coilla said.
“I know that,” Stryke came back irritably.
Minutes passed. Nothing happened.
Pepperdyne broke the silence. “Whatever’s in there, how likely are they to come out when we’re standing here fully armed?”
Spurral nodded. “Good point.”
“Yeah,” Jup agreed, “perhaps if we looked a little less confrontational…”
“Stryke?” Coilla said.
He sighed. “All right, stand down. But stay alert.”
The band relaxed, or at least made a show of it. Some sat, or leaned on their axes, though their eyes stayed fixed on the jungle.
More time passed.
Stryke grew increasingly restless, and finally declared, “I can’t be doing with this.”
“And?” Coilla said.
“I’m thinking we should go in and deal with whatever we find, friendly or otherwise.”
“Just say the word, chief,” Jup replied.
Stryke took up his sword again. “Right. Forget groups; we’re going in mob-handed. Anything tries to stop us, we down ’em.”
The band brightened. They were keen to relieve their frustrations with a fight.
“ ’bout time,” Haskeer mouthed, speaking for them all.
Stryke at their head, the band moved towards the tree-line.
“Hold it!” Dallog yelled. “Look!”
A figure was emerging from the jungle. It walked upright and was taller than most of the orcs. As it came nearer its features were revealed. From the waist upwards it resembled a human, albeit with a thin covering of dark fur. Below the waist it had legs resembling a goat’s, with a thicker, gingery pelt, that ended in hooves. It had a long tail, similar to some kind of monkey. The creature’s beard, like the hair on its head, was black, curly and luxuriant. A small pair of horns, again like a goat’s, protruded from just above the hairline. Its face was close to a human’s, excepting small, upswept ears and eyes with intensely red orbs.
“What the hell is that?” Pepperdyne whispered.
“A faun,” Coilla explained. “Back in Maras-Dantia they’re forest-dwellers.”
“Are they friendly?”
“We’ve not had a lot to do with them. Though we’ve killed a few in our time.”
“I suppose that’s not having a lot to do with them.”
The faun approached boldly, seeming undaunted by the sight of a heavily armed orc warband accompanied by dwarfs and a human. His step was certain, and he wore an expression that could have been called imperious. He bore no obvious weapons.
Stryke went forward, raised an open hand and addressed the faun in Mutual. “We’re here in peace. We mean you no harm.”
“You come well armed for beings with peaceful intent,” the faun replied. There was a commanding edge to his voice, a tone that suggested he was used to being obeyed.
“It’s a violent world. But you’re right.” He made a gesture and the band put away their weapons. Though more than a few did it with reluctance.
“Who are you?” the faun asked.
“I’m Stryke, and this is my… these are my companions, the Wolverines.”
“I am Levanda. If you really are here in peace, welcome.” He looked them over, his gaze lingering on Jup, Spurral and Pepperdyne. “If I may say so, you seem rather broad-minded in your choice of… companions.”
“We like to get on with everybody,” Stryke replied, straight-faced.
“Why are you here?”
“We need water. Nothing more.”
“Of course.”
“We’ll trade for it if-”
Levanda waved the offer aside. “Your presence is payment enough.”
From behind her hand, Spurral said to Jup, “Bit of an old smoothie, isn’t he?”
“You will honour me by accepting our hospitality,” Levanda told Stryke, “for which the fauns are renowned.”
“Thanks, but we’ve pressing business elsewhere. So just the water. No offence.”