“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.”
“My clan will be disappointed. We put great value on visitors. Come.” He turned and made for the jungle.
Exchanging glances, the warband followed.
It was much cooler, and a lot darker, when they entered the greenery. At first, trailing the faun, they had little sense of where they were heading, beyond it being deeper into the tangle. But at length they met a well-trod path and the going became a mite easier. The path meandered, veering round large clumps of bushes, dipping through gullies and over vegetation-smothered hillocks. Eventually it calmed and widened, and led them to an open space. This housed dozens of sturdy, mature trees, and the trees cradled dwellings. They looked a little like huts that had somehow been hurled and caught in the trees’ embrace. A mixture of timber, wattle and wicker, many of their frontages had loggias. There were fauns clustered on these, looking down.
More were in the clearing below. They were going about their daily occasions; preparing food, tending several fires in pits, or just lounging and passing time. One sat on a stump playing softly on a bone flute. Every so often fauns scampered up and down stout ropes dangling from the trees. Despite their ungainly physiques, they did it with remarkable ease.
As the band arrived, the fauns stopped whatever they were doing and stared.
Looking around, Pepperdyne said, “I can’t see any women. Or do they all have beards too?”
Coilla stifled a giggle. “There aren’t any females.”
“What, they hide them?”
“No, there are no female fauns. That’s how it was in Maras-Dantia anyway.”
“No females? How do they-”
“It’s said they breed with nymphs. But they only come together when they need to. So I guess there’s an island in these parts where nymphs live.”
“You saw those other islands. Nothing lived on them.”
“Well, further away then.”
“Yet these fauns don’t seem to have ships, or even boats. We didn’t see any.”
“Maybe the nymphs come to them. Does it matter?”
“I suppose not.”
The piping of the flute tailed off as the band halted. There were many fauns present, but they kept their distance, standing all around. They were silent.
“Where’s the renowned hospitality?” Jup mumbled.
“Where’s the water?” Spurral said.
Stryke echoed that. “If you’ll just show us to your spring, Levanda, we’ll be on our way.”
“Are you sure I can’t press you to food and drink?” the faun replied.
