ORCS: Army of Shadows (2 page)

The warband materialised in the verdant terrain of Acurial, whose indigenous population of orcs had lost their martial instincts.
Exploiting this weakness, the human Peczan empire had invaded under the pretext that Acurial possessed destructive magical
weapons, and their occupation was brutal.

The Wolverines soon tangled with the invaders in Taress, the capital, and were startled to discover that the humans, a race
with no talent for sorcery in Maras-Dantia, commanded powerful magic in Acurial. They had another jolt on learning that not
all the orcs of Acurial were docile. Facing overwhelming odds, they were rescued by a group of orc resistance fighters and
spirited away by them.

Outbreaks of native opposition were a thorn in the side of Kapple Hacher, general of the occupying army and governor of what
the Peczan empire considered a province. He shouldered the burden alongside Brother Grentor, the high cleric of the Order
of the Helix, custodians and practitioners of magic.

The resistance group was headed by twins Brelan and his sister Chillder. The movement’s leader in hiding was their mother,
Sylandya, who before the invasion had been Acurial’s ruler, bearing the title of primary. Stryke persuaded them that he and
his band had come from the wilderness of the far North, where some humans allied themselves with orcs, to explain Pepperdyne
and Standeven, and where dwarfs, unknown in Acurial proper, were commonplace. The mythical Northern orcs, he told them, had
never lost their taste for combat. Sceptical of Stryke’s story, the resistance decided that the Wolverines could join them
if they proved their mettle. Their task was to free resistance prisoners awaiting execution. With half the band held as hostages
under penalty of death for failure, Stryke liberated the prisoners.

The Wolverines set about helping to train and organise the rebels; and Coilla persuaded Brelan and Chillder to agree to her
forming an all-female fighting unit dubbed the Vixens.

When the occupiers of Acurial sent a feared envoy to Taress to oversee the suppression of resistance, it turned out to be
Jennesta. Having somehow survived her fate in Maras-Dantia, she had risen to a position of power and influence in the Peczan
empire, and was also titular head of the Order of the Helix. The Gateway Corps secretly arrived in Taress, too, and prepared
to retrieve the instrumentalities, whatever the cost.

More than a century before, two chieftains had vied for leadership of Acurial. At the height of the crisis a comet appeared.
It was taken as a portent, and the two agreed to rule in harness; it was a reign that proved beneficial. From old records
the resistance discovered that the comet, named Grilan-Zeat in the chieftains’ honour, returned at precise intervals, and
that it was due back imminently. The resistance’s hope was that the comet would be seen as an augury, and that it, along with
a rallying call from Sylandya, would inspire the populace to rise up. A prophecy connected to the comet stated that its arrival
would be accompanied by a heroic band of liberators. To the Wolverines’ astonishment, the resistance thought the warband might
be these long-awaited saviours, or at least could be presented as such to inspire the masses.

The resistance stepped up their activity with the aim of provoking greater repression, in the hope that this would goad the
placid majority of orcs into reacting. Sylandya’s belief was that if pushed hard enough the orcs of Acurial would have their
martial spirit rekindled.

A series of assaults on Peczan interests proved successful, until an ambitious raid on one of the occupiers’ garrisons went
disastrously wrong. Upping the stakes, the Wolverines launched a bid to assassinate Jennesta. This, too, was foiled, and ended
with the sorceress gaining possession of four of the five instrumentalities. Stryke began to speculate that there could be
a traitor in the resistance ranks, or perhaps nearer to home. Among those suspected were the humans Standeven and Pepperdyne,
despite their apparent support for the rebellion.

Then the fifth star, which Stryke had entrusted to Coilla, was stolen from a resistance safe house. The presumption was that
it, too, had fallen into Jennesta’s hands.

As the comet made its appearance, dim but unmistakable, the Wolverines faced the prospect of being stranded in an alien world.

Only five of them were left alive.

They were four privates and an officer, the latter a female. Several bore wounds. All were close to panic.

The defence had been tough and bloody. But the company’s ranks had finally broken under the onslaught, forcing the handful of survivors to retreat. They fell back from the breached gates and dashed for refuge. Behind them, the savage creatures poured in on a wave of fear and destruction.

Sprinting across the parade ground the five headed for a barracks block, a building of wood and stone, windowless and with a single door. They piled in and frantically barricaded the entrance with cots and lockers. Outside, the commotion carried on.

“This is one hell of a bolt-hole,” an infantrymen complained. “There’s no way out of here.” He was near the edge and, like the others, sweat-sheened and breathing hard.

“I don’t get it,” a comrade said. “These animals are supposed to be docile.”

“
Docile?
” another retorted. “Like hell!”

“What we going to do?” the fourth wanted to know.

“
Get a grip
,” their captain told them, doing her best to sound calm. “There’ll be support. We just need to sit tight.”

“Reinforcements, ma’am?” the first queried. “It’ll be a while before we see any out here on the fringes.”

“The more reason to stand firm. Now let’s get those wounds seen to. And stay alert!”

They ripped up bedding for dressings and set to binding their injuries. Their captain got them checking their weapons, and scouring the barracks for more. She had them further reinforce the door. Anything to keep them occupied.

“
Hey
,” one of the troopers said, halting the activity. “It’s gone really quiet out there.”

They listened to the silence.

“Could be they’ve gone,” a comrade offered, instinctively whispering.

“Maybe the backup’s arrived,” somebody added hopefully.

“So why can’t we hear
them
?”

“Just the sight of reinforcements coming might’ve scared the creatures off.”

“Care for a wager on that?”

“Stow it!” the captain snapped. “Chances are the raiders have pulled out. All we have to do ��”

A series of heavy thumps shook the door. They scrambled to it and threw their weight against the barricade. The pounding grew stronger, making the pile of furniture blocking it shudder. Fine clouds of dust began falling from the beamed ceiling.

Something hit the door with a tremendous crash, the shock wave jolting the defenders and sending part of the barricade tumbling. They hardly had time to brace themselves again before there was a second hefty impact. A cabinet toppled. Something made of pottery shattered.

The blows took on a regular, almost rhythmic pattern, each more jarring than the last. The door started to warp and splinter. The remains of their makeshift fortifications were weakening under the assault.

“
We… can’t hold… this!
” a straining trooper warned.

A battering ram smashed through the door, demolishing what was left of the barricade. Swinging again, the ram destroyed the vestiges of the door and sent debris flying.

The troopers quickly moved away. Save one, caught in the confined space and entangled by wreckage. There was a high-pitched whistle. An arrow flashed through the gaping entranceway and struck him. Two more instantly followed. He went down.

His companions retreated, weapons drawn, and backed along the aisle between the lines of camp beds on either side. Shadowy figures were swarming through the ruined entrance. Ugly, grotesque beasts. Monsters.

The soldiers upended cots and tossed them in their pursuers’ path, hoping to slow their progress. A couple of the troopers had shields and deployed them in fear of more arrows. No arrows came, but the repellent creatures kept up their remorseless advance, leaping the obstacles or simply kicking them aside.

Soon the fleeing group came to the barracks’ end, an area uncluttered with furnishings, and had no option but to make a stand. They gathered in a knot, backs to the wall, bracing themselves to brave the coming assault as best they could.

There was no let in the creatures’ progress. They rushed onward, heedless of the bristling swords intended to keep them at bay.

A frenzy of colliding blades and clashing shields ensued. Soon, screams were added to the cacophony. A trooper collapsed, his skull split by an axe. Another lost an arm to the sweep of a broadsword, then succumbed to multiple stabbing.

The fight grew yet more feverish. Fuelled by desperation, the two remaining defenders battled with ever greater ferocity. In the blizzard of stinging steel one misjudged the tempo of the battering and left open his guard. A sword found his belly; another stroke sliced cleanly through his neck, sending his head bouncing to one side. The headless corpse stood for a second, gushing crimson, before it fell.

Only the captain remained. Bloodstained, panting, her blade near slipping from moist fingers, she readied herself for the final act.

The monsters could have attacked en masse and finished her in an instant. But they held back. Then just one came forward.

It took the captain a moment to realise that the creature was waiting to engage her. She raised her sword. The being mirrored her and they set to.

Silence had fallen again, save for the pealing clatter of their blades. She fenced well, for all she had suffered and witnessed. The beast matched her in skill, though its method relied more on power and a boldness that was almost reckless. Their duel ranged back and forth across the cramped barracks, but none of the other creatures impeded her or tried to join in. They merely watched.

The finale came when the captain suffered a deep gash to her sword arm. A swift follow-through saw her take a further wound to the flank. Staggering, she lost her footing and went down.

The creature stood over her. She looked up into its eyes. What she saw was something more than brutishness. The bestial was there, but tempered with what she could only think of as a kind of empathy. And, perhaps, even a hint of nobility.

It was a fantastical notion, and it was the last one she would ever have.

The monster plunged its blade into the captain’s chest.

Wrenching her blade from the female’s corpse, Coilla said, “She fought well.”

“They all did,” Stryke agreed.

“For
humans
,” Haskeer sneered.

More than a dozen other orcs were crowded into the barracks with them. All were Wolverines, with the exception of Brelan, a leader of the Acurial resistance. He elbowed through the throng, barely glancing at the human’s body. “Time we were out of here,” he told them.

They streamed from the barracks. There were over a hundred orcs in the compound, the majority of them resistance members, along with the rest of the Wolverines and the Vixens, the female warband Coilla led. They were busy scavenging weapons and torching the place. The few humans left alive were mortally injured, and they let them be.

As Brelan’s order to evacuate spread, the force began to leave, moving out in small groups or singly. They took their own wounded, but by necessity left their dead.

Stryke, Haskeer and Coilla watched them go. Dallog, the Wolverines’ eldest member, and one of the newest, joined them.

“We bloodied their nose good ’n’ proper,” he remarked.

Stryke nodded. “We did, Corporal.”

Haskeer shot Dallog a hard look and said nothing.

“The tyros are shaping up well,” Coilla offered by way of compensation.

“Seem to be,” Dallog replied. “I’m heading off with some of them now.”

“Don’t let us keep you,” Haskeer muttered.

Dallog stared at him for a second, then turned and left.

“See you back at HQ!” Coilla called after him.

“Go easy on him, Haskeer,” Stryke said. “I know he’s not Alfray but —”

“Yeah, he’s not Alfray. More’s the pity.”

Stryke would have had something further to say to his sergeant, and in harsher terms, had Brelan not returned.

“Most have gone. You get going too. Hide your weapons, and remember the curfew starts soon, so don’t linger.” He jogged away.

Their target had been well chosen. Being comparatively small, the garrison was a mite easier to overcome than some of its better manned counterparts would have been. And its location, just beyond the outskirts of Taress city, meant it was conveniently isolated. Not that they could afford to ignore caution. There were likely to be patrols in the area, and reinforcements could be quickly summoned.

Outside the fort’s broken gates the last of the raiders were scattering. Donning various disguises, they left in wagons, on horses and, mostly, by foot. The majority would head for Taress, taking different routes, and melt into the capital’s labyrinthine back streets.

Haskeer grumpily declared that he wanted to make his way back alone. Stryke was happy to let him. “But mind what Brelan said about the curfew. And stay out of trouble!”

Haskeer grunted and stomped off.

“So, which way for us, Stryke?” Coilla asked.

“Haskeer’s going that way, so…”

She pointed in the opposite direction.

“Right.”

The course they chose took them through a couple of open meadows and into a wooded area. They moved at a fast clip, anxious to put some distance behind them. At their backs the fort burned, belching pillars of black, pungent smoke. Ahead, they could just make out Taress’ loftier towers, wine-red in the flaxen light of a summer’s evening.