Brelan and Chillder, twin rulers, were coming away from the latest occurrence. They’d tried to keep it a secret, like all the others, but rumour and hearsay were more fleet than any clampdown they could hope to impose. The incidents had increased to the point where concealment was not only near impossible but probably counterproductive, given the twins’ espousal of openness. But whether the truth was preferable to speculation was a moot point.
This time it had happened near the outskirts of Taress, the capital city. Twenty-three orcs of all ranks had gone, from a mess hall in an army camp originally built by the Peczan occupiers. It had followed the now familiar pattern. No warning. No hint as to how the victims could be spirited away from a confined space in a supposedly secure area. No obvious similarities as to who had been taken, except that they were militia. No real signs of violence, beyond a small amount of disorder. No one left to tell the tale.
To give themselves space to think, away from eavesdroppers and questioning gazes, the twins had taken a walk along the semi-rural roads.
“We’ll have to announce a state of emergency,” Brelan said. “Impose martial law.”
“You know I’ve got doubts about that,” his sister argued. “It’d only cause alarm, and maybe start a panic.”
“The citizens have a right to protect themselves.”
“How? We can’t do that now. The military can’t protect themselves. What chance would the ordinary orc on the street have? I say we inform them rather than do anything draconian.”
“And you think that wouldn’t cause a panic? Let them know what’s going on, yes, but back it with troops on the streets, a curfew, checkpoints and-”
“That smacks of the occupation days.”
“It’s for their own good.”
“Which sounds like the kind of language Peczan used to justify their oppression.”
“We’re not Peczan.”
“Of course we’re not. But it’s a matter of how we’re seen. Don’t forget that our race has finally regained its combative spirit. Give the wrong impression and we could risk another uprising, against us this time. You’re overlooking the political dimension to this.”
“Gods, Chillder, is that what we’ve come to? Thinking like damn politicians?”
“Like it or not, it’s what we are. All we can hope to do is be a different kind. The sort that puts the citizens before self-interest.”
“I wonder if that’s how all politicians start out. You know, with good intentions that get corrupted by power and expediency.”
“Our mother didn’t go that way. And we’re not going to.”
“I can’t wait for us to set up the citizens’ committees. Give the ordinary folk a say, spread the load and the decision-making.”
“Yes, well, that’s going to have problems of its own no doubt, though I’m with you on it. But there’s no benefit in going over that now. We’ve a more pressing concern.”
“Which we’re no nearer solving.”
“Look, it’s the militia that’s taking the brunt of… whatever it is that’s happening. I’m right in saying that, aren’t I? There have been no civilian disappearances?”
“As far as we know. It’s difficult to be sure, mind.”
“Let’s assume that’s the case and beef up security for the military even more.”
“How?”
“Some kind of buddy system maybe, with one unit keeping an eye on another unit.”
“And who keeps an eye on them?”
“Or we get all military personnel to check in at really short, regular intervals. Or have them all eat and sleep in the open, in plain sight. Or… whatever. My point is that it shouldn’t be beyond our wit to come up with safeguards.”
“Measures like that would cripple the army. How effective a fighting force would they be, if we needed them, under those sort of restraints? Not to mention we’d be a laughing stock, and that’s hardly going to reassure the populace.”
“What, then?”
“A state of emergency is all I can think of. Even though you’re right: it’s not the ideal solution.”
“It’s not a solution at all, Brelan.” She let her frustration show and added irately, “If only we knew what was doing this!”
“You mean who. It still seems to me that Peczan’s behind it, somehow.”
“We’ve been through that. How could they be? And I don’t buy the idea that they have agents among our own kind.”
He sighed. “Neither do I. Look, I need to think. Would you mind making your own way back? I’d like to linger here for just a while.”
“If you say so. You’ll be all right?”
“Course I will. I’ll see you later.”
They had walked quite a way as they talked, and were now on what was essentially a country road. There were hardly any houses to be seen, and the nearest was almost out of sight. Open fields stretched from both sides of the road. There wasn’t much else except a sluggish stream and the occasional stand of trees. Brelan took himself to the edge of one of the fields and stood looking out across it. Chillder gave him a last glance and set off towards where they’d come from, lost in her own thoughts.
She didn’t know what it was that made her stop, just a short way along the road. It wasn’t a sound, it was a feeling. She turned.
Brelan was nowhere to be seen. Chillder stayed where she was for a moment, expecting to see him reappear. He didn’t, and she began walking back. Then she broke into a run.
When she arrived at the spot where she had left her brother, there was no sign. She scanned the fields on either side of the road, but saw nothing. There was no shelter of any kind, certainly nothing near enough for him to have reached in so short a time. It occurred to her that he might have set off across the field for some reason and fallen into the long grass. But she knew how unlikely that was. She called his name, and got no reply. Again she yelled, louder, with her hands on either side of her mouth, and kept on calling.
A chill was creeping up her spine. And she noticed something in the air, an odour both familiar and forbidding.
The feeling she had experienced as she was walking away returned. She couldn’t put in words what it was, but it was no less tangible for that. An awful oppression fell upon her, and her head was starting to swim. She felt faint and slightly nauseous. Her surroundings seemed to blur and she was unsteady on her feet. She tried to fight it.
It was no use.
Darkness took her.
23
The Wolverines landed with a splash.
They were in water, a great deal of it, and it was salty in their mouths.
“We’re in a damn ocean!” Jup yelled.
“There’s the shore!” Pepperdyne pointed to a sandy beach a short distance away.
Stryke looked around at the bobbing heads of the band and did a quick count. “Where’s Standeven?”
“Shit!” Pepperdyne exclaimed. “He can’t swim.”
“The gods are being kind to us at last,” Haskeer said.
“I can’t let him drown.”
“Why not?”
Pepperdyne took a gulp of air and disappeared beneath the waves. The rest of them trod water.
