Orcs: Tales of Maras-Dantia by Nicholls Stan

Author:Nicholls, Stan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: NewCon Press
Published: 2015-11-27T00:00:00+00:00

Paid In Blood

‘Mind my arse!’ Haskeer bellowed.

Stryke jabbed a thumb at their pursuers. ‘You’d rather they roasted it?’

The wagon the Wolverines had hijacked hit another pothole, jarring their spines. It was fully laden, curbing its speed, and every bump in the rutted trail threatened a broken axle.

Stryke had the reins. Haskeer bounced beside him. Coilla perched at the wagon’s rear, her back against its crated cargo, loosing arrows. Mounted on chargers, the rest of the orcs galloped on either side. An enraged posse of black-clad Unis, several times the band’s strength, was giving chase.

A harsh bend came up. Stryke tugged hard on the reins, turning the wagon so sharply that its load shifted. For a heart-stopping moment it looked fit to overturn. No sooner had it righted itself than they hit an even rougher stretch. The jolts wrung a fresh torrent of curses from Haskeer.

Steadying herself, Coilla directed a shaft at one of the leading Uni riders. The arrow struck his thigh. Hardly a savage wound, but enough to make him swerve and collide with several followers. A brace of them went down. She took aim at another man.

Bolder than the others, one Uni spurred forward, outpacing his fellows. He drew level not with an orc, but Jup, the warband’s lone dwarf. A frantic exchange ensued, dwarf axe against human sword. Steel rang on steel as they raced in parallel, neither finding flesh. Until Jup, rising in his stirrups, delivered a hefty swipe to his opponent’s chest. Unhorsed, the man fell and was trampled by the chasers’ hooves.

Alfray and a couple of grunts slackened pace, falling back to engage with the foremost charging Unis. They harried them with blade and spear, forcing the humans to drop their own speed, dangerously bunching the riders behind them. Coilla’s copious supply of arrows, sent arcing over the leaders’ heads to rain on those in the rear, added to their confusion.

The track was straighter now, and more even. Stryke upped the speed. The wagon creaked ominously, its wheels raising sparks from embedded stones. Huffing steamy breath, the horses foamed.

A hill lay ahead. Stryke should have slowed to take it. He ignored caution and ploughed on. The wagon went over the apex at a clip, briefly leaving the ground despite its weight. It came down with a bone-rattling crash.

There were no further rises or turns on the road ahead; it ran unimpeded to their destination.

‘They’re slowing!’ Coilla shouted. ‘They’re falling back!’

‘No surprise,’ Stryke said, nodding at what loomed on the horizon.

The towers of Cairnbarrow, shrouded in dawn mist. A Mani sanctuary, the redoubt of their mistress, and for the Wolverines, what passed for home.

The band sped towards safety, leaving the Uni mob looking on in impotent rage.

Coilla gave a low whistle. ‘Think what this lot must be worth.’ One of the crates lay open. She ran her calloused fingers over the gold bars it held.

‘We won’t see any of it,’ Stryke told her.

‘Too right,’ Haskeer grumbled.

‘What do you think Jennesta’s gonna do with it?’ Coilla wondered.

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