'I don't remember one about them.'
'There is now: leave it. I'm no happier with humans around than you are, but we've more pressing worries.'
A grunt jogged from the back of the building. 'That's the only door, chief. No other way out.'
Stryke looked up to the distant rafters. 'We couldn't reach the roof either.'
As soon as he said it, they heard the sound of movement overhead.
'But they can,' Coilla said.
There was a battering at the door. It shook in its hinges. Several grunts rushed forward and threw their weight against the barricade.
'Can't fight, can't run,' Haskeer grumbled. 'What do we do, Stryke?'
'We'll try smashing our way through that back wall and — '
'Can you smell something?' Spurral exclaimed.
The hammering had stopped.
'Shit.' Coilla pointed towards the door. Thick black smoke was seeping through the cracks. 'They've torched the place.'
Smoke was coming in through some of the wall planks too, and it began to billow up above, over the rafters.
'They want us so badly they'd burn one of their own buildings?' Stryke said.
'They're pretty pissed off,' Jup confirmed.
' Now what?' Haskeer wanted to know.
Stryke held out a hand. 'Coilla, the star. You've got it?'
'Course. I check the damn thing every ten breaths.' She dug it out and passed it to him.
He moved to a crude table and placed the instrumentality on it. Then he added the others from his belt pouch. He consulted the amulet about his neck then, brow taut with concentration, began slotting the stars together.
The smoke grew denser. Coughing broke out and eyes were stinging. Dallog was ripping up portions of cloth, dunking them in a water butt he'd found and passing them out to the grunts to cover their mouths with.
The ceiling was on fire. Sparks drifted and embers fell. The stink was acrid.
Still Stryke fiddled with the stars.
Everyone had gathered round him now, watching intently. Only Pepperdyne and Standeven, silent and forgotten, stood further back.
Stryke had just the final piece to fit in.
'I don't like this bit,' Wheam snivelled.
'Oh, shut up,' Haskeer chided.
Stryke began easing the last star into place.
' Hold tight, everybody! ' Coilla yelled.
Pepperdyne grabbed Standeven's wrist, dragging him closer to the scrum.
There was an implosion of non-light.
And the bottom fell out of the world.
13
Only tender sounds disturbed the calm. A tinkling brook flowed down a mild rocky incline to join a lazy river. The distant baas of sheep mingled with the soothing drone of honeybees.
Green fields and softly undulating meadows extended from the banks of the river. Trees in full blossom dotted the landscape. Gentle hillocks marked the horizon, crowned with leafy copses. High above, languid birds flapped across a perfectly blue sky.
The day was still and warm. All was bucolic tranquillity.
There was a subtle change in the quality of the air. At a point just above the ground it wavered, like heat over stone on a summer afternoon. Soon, a spot of dull milky radiance appeared, and grew. It became a vortex, spinning frantically, and coloured pinpoints swirled in the mix. The whirlpool birthed a breeze, which swiftly built to a wind. Then a gale. Grass bowed under its force, and plants and trees.
It climaxed in a blinding white flash that rivalled the noontime sun.
The gaping maw of the churning radiance spewed out its load. A mass of shapes tumbled on to the sward.
Instantly, the wind vanished and the vortex snapped out of existence.
A sulphurous odour hung in the air.
Thirty and more figures were strewn along the riverbank. For some minutes none of them moved. Slowly, they began to rouse. A few groaned. Several vomited.
Stryke and Coilla were among the first to get to their feet.
'Gods, it's no easier the second time, is it?' Coilla said, shaking her muzzy head. She took in the scene. 'You brought us home? To Ceragan?'
'No. Though it looks a lot like it. I set the stars for the place Serapheim told us about.'
'This is supposed to be a land oppressed, is it? And there are orcs here?'
He scanned the landscape. 'Somewhere.'
'If we've wound up where we're supposed to.'
'That we'll find out.' Stryke realised he was still clutching the assemblage of stars. He plucked one free and offered it to her. It was green, with five spikes. 'Are you still willing to — ?'
'Sure.' She took it. 'It's not the same one. The one I had was blue and it only had four — '
'Does it matter?' He was pulling the others apart and putting them in his pouch.
'No, course not. I'm being stupid. Still dazed from getting here. Wherever here is.'
Jup and Spurral joined them. They were pale, and looked mildly shocked.
'That's a hell of a way to travel,' Jup said.
'Where are we?' Spurral asked.
'Don't know,' Stryke told her. 'But it's where our mission is.'
Haskeer had been haranguing the band. Now he strode over.
'Everybody all right?' Stryke wanted to know.
'More or less. No thanks to his lot.' He glowered at Jup.
'My people were out of order,' Jup conceded. 'But they felt they had cause.'
' Cause? That's one word for it.'
'What are you saying?'
'You dwarfs know which way the wind blows.'
'Meaning?'
'What happened back there, turning on us, you're well known for that.'
'Oh, that old song again.'
'And it's got a name.' Haskeer leaned and put his face close to Jup's. 'Treachery.'
Jup made an effort to keep his temper in check. 'Some of my folk… some… escaped the poverty we've been pushed into by working as soldiers of fortune. You could say I did myself, when I joined Jennesta's horde. The same army you served in.'
'You had a choice. We didn't. Pisspot.' He drove his forefinger hard into the dwarf's chest.
'You want to settle this?' Jup flared, balling his fists.
'Jup, please!' Spurral begged. 'This is no time to — '
'Whenever you're ready,' Haskeer growled. He raised his own ham-like knuckles.
Stryke barged in and flung them apart. ' Cut it out! ' he roared. 'We're a disciplined band, not a rabble!'
'He started it,' Jup mumbled.
'That's enough! I won't have disorder, and I'll back that with a whipping if I have to!'
Unable to meet his gaze, Haskeer and Jup resumed glaring at each other.
