“Why?”
“As I said, it’ll be useful for what follows.”
“And what’s that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fat lot of use you are,” Haskeer muttered.
“I don’t know specifically,” Dynahla said, “but I know there’ll be challenges. What I do know is you need that device to be able to advance further.”
“ How do you know that?”
“Serapheim told me.”
“Why didn’t you tell us until now?”
“I didn’t know I had to until we got here. And all Serapheim told me was that in this place gift horses shouldn’t be ignored. That weapon’s here for a reason. Everything is here for a reason. You have to take it.”
“Well…”
“At least have a look. Would that hurt?”
“All right. But it better be worth it.”
“I think you’ll find it is.”
The band headed for the cliffs.
When they got to the object it proved extraordinary. It was essentially a long dark metal tube or pipe, with the circumference of a hogshead, mounted on wheels. From its arrangement of gears and handles it looked as though the tube’s angle could be adjusted. On one side at its blunt end was a large wheel, on the other a lever. The top of the tube had a sight, in the form of a raised ring with an inset cross. There were wide grooves on both sides of the chassis that bore the weapon. They each held around a dozen sizeable black globes, possibly of iron.
“How does it work?” Coilla said.
“I think I know,” Dynahla replied.
Haskeer looked to him. “Weapons expert now, are you?”
“No. But when I was here before I changed myself into something that could get inside this thing. Well, not that small, but an appendage with an eye attached did the job.”
“And you figured it out?” Stryke asked.
“I think so. Inside that tube there’s a very powerful coil, made of some sort of tough, flexible metal. You drop one of these balls down the tube, then turn that wheel at the end. That draws back the coil, taking the ball with it. When it’s in place, the lever releases the coil. It comes free with enough energy to launch the ball. And with a lot of force, I imagine.”
“Clever,” Jup declared admiringly.
“They’re a size,” Haskeer said, pointing at the weighty metal balls.
“Nearly as big as your head. Though less dense.”
Haskeer contented himself with giving the dwarf a murderous look.
“This thing must weigh a ton,” Stryke said.
“We can couple the millipedes to it,” Dynahla suggested. “They’re strong. And maybe there’ll be a bit of hauling where necessary. But believe me, Stryke, we should take it.”
“All right, I believe you. I hope this isn’t wasted effort, for your sake.”
Wheam was staring at the weapon. “How come it’s just sitting here? Doesn’t it belong to somebody?”
“Quite possibly,” the shape-changer replied. “In which case you might have to fight for it.”
Wheam looked around. “Fight who?”
“If we’re lucky, nobody. But we should stay alert.”
“That we can do,” Stryke told him.
Using rope the band carried, along with some pleated vines, they fashioned crude harnesses. They found that two millipedes were capable of pulling the load, as well as carrying riders.
When they were finally ready, Stryke said, “We have to skirt these cliffs. Which means going away from north and then turning back to it once we’re round ’em.”
“What about that canyon?” Coilla suggested. “Isn’t that heading north?”
The peculiar daytime star hung directly above it.
“I guess it does. If it’s not a dead end.”
Dynahla offered to find out. He changed to his black bird guise and took off. Before long he was back to confirm that the canyon did indeed go clean through the cliffs.
“What’s it like on the other side?” Stryke wanted to know.
“More or less like this, though rockier. There are some caves.”
“All right, let’s move.”
They set off, unsteadily at first, hauling the weapon.
The canyon was narrow and high-sided. Its floor was stony, with occasional clumps of miserable vegetation. It didn’t run straight; there were bends.
As one of these came into sight they saw a shadow cast by something moving their way. Something very large. Stryke halted the convoy. No sooner had they stopped than a creature rounded the bend.
It could have passed for vaguely human, apart from its size. High as a fully grown oak, and looking as hardy, it was male. The creature was naked save for a loincloth of pelts. He was an extremely hirsute specimen, with a bushy head of hair, a full beard and a mane on his chest, all rust-coloured. There was a belt at his waist, and tucked through it a club as big as a young tree. His piggy eyes held a malevolent glint.
When he saw them he gave a furious roar.
“Shit, an ogre,” Jup said. “That’s all we need.”
“I think we can guess who the weapon belonged to,” Spurral added.
“Why didn’t you see this when you scouted, Dynahla?” Stryke demanded.
Before the fetch could answer somebody yelled “ Watch out!”
The ogre had lifted a sizeable rock and was getting ready to throw it at them.
“Back!” Stryke ordered. “ Pull back!”
“You tried getting these things to back up?” Haskeer shouted, pulling hard on a millipede’s reins.
Those hauling the weapon had an even harder time trying to turn in the confined space. But they managed to retreat a short distance, albeit ending up in something of a shambles.
The rock came down with a thunderous crash, short of the band but too close for ease. His simple face twisted with fury, the ogre scrabbled for another one.
“Archers!” Stryke bellowed.
The bows came out and defensive fire was unleashed. Arrows soared towards their bemused target, and many hit. More than anything, the ogre seemed surprised. The shafts may have stung him but they were doing no real harm. Adjusting their aim, the archers tried for more sensitive areas, around the face and neck.
The ogre lobbed his second rock. It was short again but a lot nearer, throwing up a cloud of shale and dust that pelted the band. Immediately, the creature started to advance, hampered a little by the irritation of arrows. Then one penetrated his cheek, drawing an angry bellow. He plucked it out, stared stupidly at it and flung it away. A trickle of blood flowed down the side of his face. He drew the vicious-looking club, and tried batting at the incoming arrows with it.
“This could be the time to put our weapon to the test, Stryke,” Coilla suggested.
“Just what I was thinking.”
“If we can get it working in time,” Jup added, sliding from the millipede’s back.
The archers had only a limited supply of arrows but they kept firing. Stryke ordered everybody else to uncouple the weapon, a task complicated by the fact that the ogre’s approach was causing the millipedes to become skittish.
To buy them time, Dynahla changed himself into an eagle and flew off to harass the ogre with wickedly sharp talons. Down below, the band struggled to disengage the weapon and turn it.
The ogre took to swiping at Dynahla with his club. Successfully turned, the weapon was being primed. A couple of grunts heaved one of the metal balls into the tube’s mouth. Several more privates, along with a bellowing Haskeer, were straining to turn the wheel that drew back the coil.
Dynahla narrowly avoided being struck by the club. He circled, swooped again and was almost caught by it a second time. The shape-changer called it quits and flew down to the band. He landed, and transformed in one fluid motion, as the weapon was being tilted upwards. Nep and Seafe were bouncing up and down on its nonbusiness end to encourage progress.
Finally they were set. The ogre, frantic with rage, was bearing down on them. Stryke had his hand on the firing lever and was peering through the sight.
“What you waiting for?” Haskeer said.
“We only get one chance. I want him nearer.”