ashen terrain was hard going underfoot. But the powdery blanket turned out to have one advantage. When they were about halfway to their destination, as far as they could judge, they spotted tracks in it. They led in the direction of the city.
“Human,” Jup announced, kneeling by them, “and more than one set. Has to be her.”
Stryke nodded. “Let’s keep moving. And eyes peeled.”
They trudged on, warily.
Before they reached the city the tracks petered out, erased by the wind. But they had no doubt of their destination.
Shortly after, they arrived at the outskirts. Even before it fell into ruin it would have been like no place of habitation they had ever seen. Much of its architecture was inexplicable to them. There were sleek structures lacking doors or windows, buildings in the shape of spirals or cubes, or crowned with pyramids. The remains of one edifice was smothered in strange decorative symbols. Another took the form of a cone, its angles so acute that nobody could possibly have lived in it. They saw the remnants of signs in a completely incomprehensible language, if it was a language, and toppled objects that might have been statues, except they were insanely abstract. And when they looked closer, and ran their fingers over walls and pillars and fallen cornices, they discovered they were fashioned from no materials they knew.
For as far as they could see, the city was deserted, and in ruins. The evidence of decay was everywhere, with crumbling walls, cracks spider-webbing buildings and fissures disfiguring the avenues. But there were signs of more violent destruction, too, in the form of ragged apertures, sheered spires and pockmarks that looked as though they had been made by incredibly powerful projectiles. Charred debris and unmistakable traces of smoke damage in some areas showed that flames had played their part.
“This place makes no sense,” Spurral said. “What kind of creatures could have lived here?”
“And what put an end to them?” Jup wondered.
“A war?” Dallog speculated. “Or nature rising up and turning on them with an earthquake, or-”
“Could have been the gods,” Gleadeg reckoned darkly, “upset in some way.”
“No point trying to figure it,” Stryke said. “Let’s keep to why we’re here.”
Coilla cupped her eyes and scanned the scene. “It’s vast. Where do we go?”
Stryke turned to Jup. “How do you feel about trying farsight?”
“Sure.” He got down on his knees and wormed his hand into the ash. Eyes closed, he stayed that way for a moment. “Bugger that!” He leapt up, waving his hand about as though it had been burnt.
“What is it?” Spurral asked anxiously.
“The energy’s fouled. It’s even worse than Maras-Dantia.”
“You all right?”
“Yeah.” He took a breath, calming himself. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Whatever happened here, the magic or weapons used, has tainted this place,” Dynahla said.
“Don’t suppose you got a hint of anything, did you, Jup?” Stryke wondered.
“Not a thing. Sorry, chief.”
Haskeer elbowed his way to the front. “So what now, Stryke?”
“We’ll form squads and start searching.”
“That’ll take for ever.”
“You got a better idea?”
“ Stryke,” Coilla said.
“What?”
She pointed at a jumble of half-collapsed buildings. “I saw something move.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.”
“I think I did too,” Pepperdyne added.
“Weapons,” Stryke ordered. They all drew their blades and he led them towards the sighting.
Moving guardedly, they reached the spot. There was nothing to be seen except devastation. They rooted around a bit in the rubble, but fruitlessly.
“You two are imagining things,” Haskeer grumbled, glaring at Coilla and Pepperdyne.
“I don’t think so,” Coilla replied evenly.
“Ssshhh!” Jup waved them into silence and nodded at an area a little farther along, where heaps of clutter were shrouded in darkness.
Faint noises were coming from it. Scratching and rustling, and the sound of rubble being dislodged.
Stryke at their head, the band quietly moved forward. Again, they found nothing, and the sounds had stopped. But they noticed a narrow passageway, formed by the sides of two adjacent buildings, and at its end there was a faint light. They entered it. As they walked the passage the light grew stronger. When they emerged at its far end, they saw its source.
They came out to an open space that might originally have been some kind of public square. It was strewn with junk, and the scene was illuminated by a number of fires scattered about the place. The flames threw shadows on the walls of the surrounding buildings left standing.
“Where the hell’s Jennesta?” Coilla complained.
“She’s here somewhere,” Dynahla assured her. “You can count on it.”
“What I don’t get,” Pepperdyne said, “is why these fires haven’t burnt out long since. What’s to feed them?”
“I’m more concerned with whatever that is,” Stryke told him. He was staring straight ahead.
A shape crept out of the dark at the far end of the wrecked plaza. As it moved into the flickering light they got a better look. It wasn’t Jennesta or one of her followers, as they half expected. It was a beast. But of a kind they had never encountered before.
At first sight, some thought it was feline, others canine. In fact, the creature seemed to be a blend of both, and in several respects it was almost insectoid. Standing about waist-high to an orc, it had six legs, ending in lengthy, horn-like talons. Its pelt was a yellowish-brown. The brute’s head resembled a lion’s, except it lacked a mane and had a much more extended snout. There was a wide, fang-filled mouth, and instead of two eyes there were six, ruby red.
The band remained stock still, watching the thing, braced for an attack. But although it seemed aware of them, its interest was elsewhere. Letting out a throaty snort, it made its way to the biggest of the fires. Then, to the orcs’ astonishment, it thrust its head into the flames and began lapping at them.
“My gods,” Coilla exclaimed, “it’s drinking the fire.”
“How can that be?” Jup said.
“Anything’s possible in an infinite number of worlds,” Dynahla told them.
Two more of the animals came out of the shadows. Joining the first, they too gulped the flames, the trio snapping and snarling at each other as though squabbling over a kill.
Haskeer looked on in stupefaction. “They must have hides tough as steel.”
“Let’s hope not,” Pepperdyne said.
His wish was pertinent. Having supped their fill, the creatures turned their attention to the band. Their multiple crimson eyes held a malignant intensity.
Coilla went “Uh-uh.”
The fire-eaters charged.
One of them, in the lead, opened its massive jaws and belched a plume of flame. The orcs in its path scattered, narrowly avoiding a roasting.
“Now we know what keeps the fires going,” Coilla said. “They do!”
She and Pepperdyne leapt aside to avoid another creature that singled them out. It swerved and, spitting fire, galloped after the fleeing pair. They made for one of the ruined buildings bordering the square.
Stryke and Haskeer barely dodged incineration from the beast targeting them. The flame it spewed flew over their ducked heads and seared a nearby wall. They set to weaving about the creature and harassing it as best they could. Jup and Spurral joined them, along with Hystykk and Gleadeg.
The rest of the band was tackling the third fire-breather, their greater number allowing them to surround it. They were attacking from a distance, employing arrows and spears, though many of their projectiles bounced off its
