28
The shrill, insistent note Haskeer sent out sparked an exodus.
All over the fort's parade ground, orcs disengaged and headed for the gates. Or at least most did. A few couldn't extricate themselves from overwhelming odds and imminent death. Others lay wounded, or were on the point of capture, and chose to turn their blades on themselves rather than fall into enemy hands. Those who did withdraw were hotly pursued, and rearguard actions were fought across the square.
The retreating Wolverines, resistance members and Vixens clustered at the gates, urging on stragglers and loosing arrows at the humans chasing them.
'Isn't that one of the Ceragans?' Coilla exclaimed, pointing into the heaving scrimmage.
Stryke nodded. 'It's Ignar.'
'He's in trouble, Stryke.'
The raw recruit had almost reached the edge of the scrum when a group of troopers caught up with him. He was trying to beat them off.
'I'm going in,' Stryke decided.
'I'm with you,' she said.
'Me too,' Pepperdyne announced.
With Stryke in the lead they ran towards the mob.
On their way they met the van of the pursuers. Four bawling soldiers blocked their path. Stryke hacked down the leader with a single potent blow. Coilla and Pepperdyne tackled the others as he sprinted on.
Ignar was battling two opponents. He was outclassed, and he was injured. Blood flowed freely from several wounds, not least a broad gash to the chest. It was all he could do to fend off his attackers, and as Stryke approached he slumped to his knees. One of the soldiers lifted his sword to deliver a killing stroke.
Stryke intervened. A powerful swipe of his blade all but severed the human's sword arm. The man screamed and stumbled away, gushing blood. Stryke spun to face his charging companion. Their swords clashed and they furiously hacked at each other. The flurry ended with the soldier taking steel to his belly.
Ignar had fallen. Stryke went to him and found him barely conscious. Coilla and Pepperdyne arrived.
'He's in a bad way,' Coilla pronounced as she examined the recruit. 'Lot of blood lost.'
'We'll get him clear,' Stryke said.
He and Pepperdyne half carried, half dragged Ignar while Coilla kept any other would-be attackers at bay. As they neared the gates, orc archers sent out covering fire for them.
They laid Ignar on the ground, and somebody propped his head with a folded jerkin. He seemed unconscious.
Stryke lightly slapped his pallid cheeks. 'Ignar. Ignar.'
The young orc's eyes flickered open.
'Here,' Coilla said, handing Stryke a canteen.
'With a wound like that,' Pepperdyne remarked, 'he shouldn't drink.'
'It doesn't matter now,' Stryke told him. He dampened Ignar's lips with a little water.
Ignar tried to speak. Stryke allowed him a drink from the canteen. He coughed, and murmured something. Stryke leaned closer.
' I'm… sorry,' Ignar whispered.
'No need,' Stryke replied. 'You fought well, and you die a Wolverine.'
Ignar managed a faint smile. Then his eyes closed for the last time.
Coilla hissed, 'Shit.'
'We can't hold here much longer,' Pepperdyne said.
'Get 'em moving,' Stryke ordered, rising.
'We've got comrades in there,' Brelan protested. 'We can't leave them.'
'We take losses,' Stryke said, glancing at Ignar's corpse. 'It's part of the price. Linger here and we'll lose more.'
'Or all,' Coilla amended. She pointed at the mass of humans across the square. They vastly outnumbered the orcs, and they were grouping for an all-out assault. 'We have to go. Now.'
Reluctantly, Brelan nodded assent.
Stryke turned to Coilla and Jup. 'They all know where the rendezvous point is. Any wounded or foot-draggers on the way get left behind. It's every orc for themselves. Pass it on.'
They moved off to spread the word.
He looked at Pepperdyne. 'Ready for a fast retreat, human?'
'Just say the word.'
Stryke signalled Haskeer. The sergeant gave another blast on the horn. Orc archers stepped up their flow of arrows.
The retreat began.
They poured out of the gates and on to the approach road. Shedding excess kit and even some weapons, they headed inland, their pace increasing to a sprint. The tail of the column had barely cleared the fort's precincts when the first of the humans came after them. Orc arrows helped slow the pursuit.
'We're fucked if they've got cavalry,' Coilla said, jogging alongside Jup.
'That's right,' the dwarf panted, 'look on the bright side.'
No riders appeared. But more soldiers exited and joined the chase.
The orcs topped a rise and swept down on to the plain beyond. They made for a stand of trees an arrow's flight ahead.
Pepperdyne, next to Stryke at the column's head, glanced back. He saw the pursuing humans on the crest, outlined against the cloudless sky. 'Doesn't look like all the garrison. Not by a long shot.'
'Good,' Stryke replied.
'But why aren't more of them following us?'
Stryke shrugged and upped the pace.
They got to the line of trees and through them. That put them in the first of a series of meadows. They crossed those too, trampling down hedgerows when there was no easier path. Another stretch of open pasture followed, with several copses at its far end.
The humans were still on their trail, but had fallen back some distance.
'Think we might outpace 'em?' Jup asked.
'Wouldn't hold your breath,' Coilla said.
'Not a lot left to hold. How much further is it?'
'I reckon we're near. Should see a wood soon. It's past that.'
They had a couple more fields to go across before they spotted the wood's edge. Putting on a spurt, they quickly reached it and moved into the trees.
'Be alert!' Stryke warned. 'This is a good place to get waylaid. And we've had enough ambushes for one day.'
Pepperdyne sidled up to him. 'Now I can't see them at all,' he said, scanning the open ground they'd just left. 'Maybe they've given up the chase.'
'Or they're sneaking round to lie in wait for us, like I said. C'mon, and stay awake.'
The legion of orcs crept through the woods, keeping vigilant and as quiet as over a hundred hastily retreating warriors could. As they penetrated deeper, dappled sunlight gave way to cool gloom under the leafy canopy. Silence wrapped them, overlaid only by their muffled footfalls on the loam.
After ten minutes of steady tramping they heard something else. A halt was signalled and they listened. It was the unmistakable sound of rushing water, close to hand. They pushed on. The trees began to thin and the light increased. Soon the riverbank was in sight. While the others held back, Stryke and Brelan carried on alone to the water's edge.
The river was wide and fast-flowing. It was thunderous, throwing off spray and spawning white foam where it churned around half-submerged rocks. On the river's far side the wood continued, and beyond it the tops of green
