'No, wait! There's another way. Under there.' He pointed to the space below the scaffolds. 'It's where I was going when you caught me.'
Coilla gave him a chilling look. 'If this is a trick…'
'It's not. I'll show you.'
They kept close to him as he moved underneath the platform. After hunching for about ten paces they came to an area where it was possible to stand. Overhead were the trapdoors.
The human carried on to the wall. 'Here,' he said.
At first, Coilla couldn't see what he meant. She reached out to touch the wall with her fingertips, and felt a ridge. Then she realised it was a doorframe, hidden in shadow. She pushed. There was light.
They were looking along a tunnel. It was softly lit by fat candles set in recesses.
'Straight from torture to death, eh?' Dallog said.
'And to tidily remove the… deceased,' the human told him.
' Tidily,' Coilla repeated, a note of menace in her voice. She gave him a hard shove. 'Keep moving!'
The tunnel ended at a series of metal rungs that climbed to a trapdoor.
'How many are up there?' Coilla whispered.
'I don't know,' the human replied. 'I really don't.'
Coilla looked back at the rest of her group, crowding the narrow tunnel. She didn't like the fact that they could only go up the rungs one at a time. It seemed perfect for an ambush. 'No lingering,' she told them. 'We get up there fast. And be ready for anything.' To the human she said, 'You first.'
He climbed the rungs and lifted the trap. Coilla went next, with Dallog right behind her.
They emerged in a building of roughly the same dimensions as the one they just left. But it was laid out differently. Ahead of them, hugging the left-hand side, was a paved walkway. The space to the right was divided into sections by floor to ceiling brick partitions, nine or ten paces apart, forming a succession of cubicles. It remind Coilla of a stable.
The rest of the orcs were beginning to surface from the tunnel, and Dallog was hauling up the slower ones by their scruffs. Coilla turned her head to check the bottleneck. That fleeting distraction was all their captive needed.
He bolted. Running along the gangway, he started shouting. Most of it was gabble, but the note of alarm was unmistakable.
' Shit! ' Coilla cursed.
Before she could act, Dallog shot past her. He moved at a surprising clip given his age, and caught the human with apparent ease. There was a brief, futile struggle. Then Dallog seized the man's head and twisted it sharply. There was an audible crack as his neck broke. Man became corpse in the blink of an eye, and dropped.
But his shouted warning had a result. Up ahead, several figures came out of cubicles. They headed towards the orcs, weapons drawn.
' Down! ' Coilla yelled.
It took Dallog a second to realise she meant him. He hit the deck. A small swarm of arrows soared over his head. They thudded into the first two humans, flattening them. The third and final man dashed for shelter as Wolverine archers loosed another volley. He almost made it.
'Nice move,' Coilla told Dallog as he got to his feet. 'Search the place,' she ordered the rest of the group.
Moments later she was called to one of the cubicles.
A manacled orc was suspended on the wall. He was unconscious and bloodied.
Nearby stood a brazier steeped with glowing coals. Cruel-looking irons were heating in it. Other tools of the torturer's trade were laid out on a gore-splattered bench.
'There's another one a few cubicles along,' a grunt told her. 'He's in a similar state.'
'Get them down. Have Dallog look at their wounds.'
A commotion arose along the walkway. She went out and saw several of her crew with a captive. They frogmarched him towards her.
'Look what we found,' one of them said.
The man was big and powerfully built. He wore the traditional black leather garb of an inquisitor, complete with integral skullcap and eye mask. His chest was bare and sheened with sweat from his labours.
'Your work?' Coilla nodded at the prisoner being taken down.
'And proud of it.' His manner was contemptuous, and he showed little of the fear their last captive displayed. 'Besides,' he added haughtily, 'your kind don't feel pain the way your superiors do.'
'If you say so.' She swiftly snatched an iron from the fire and drove it into his chest.
He howled. The smell of scorching flesh perfumed the air. Coilla contemplated doing it again, thought better of it and tossed aside the iron. Instead she raised her sword and cut off his shrieks with a clean thrust between the ribs.
'I reckon that's enough to hurt anybody,' she told his lifeless body. 'Improvise a couple of stretchers,' she ordered, 'we're getting out of here.'
They smashed the legs off two benches and used the tops to transport the tortured orcs. Then they found the main entrance and left that way.
Out in the compound, confusion still reigned.
Somebody shouted, ' Look! '
Stryke, Haskeer and Pepperdyne were running their way. They had a large number of freed prisoners in tow.
'All right?' Stryke asked.
Coilla nodded. 'Yeah. They've made suffering and death a fine art here.' She couldn't help eyeing Pepperdyne. He said nothing.
'At least we can get this bunch out,' Stryke replied.
There was a thunderous crash. The burning supports of the water tower had given way. Shattering as it hit the ground, the huge wooden container disgorged its contents. Several hundred gallons of water swept across the compound, knocking nearby soldiers off their feet.
'That should keep 'em busy,' Haskeer reckoned.
'Time to leave,' Stryke said.
They ran to the main gates and were joined by the pair of Wolverines they left as back-up. Almost as soon as they got out to the road, a couple of large covered wagons drew up. They were driven by the two resistance members who guided the Wolverines to the camp. The injured were put on board, then everyone else crammed in at the double.
It was still early, and there wasn't much in the way of people or traffic on the streets. In any event the journey wasn't too long. Instead of driving into the city proper, the wagons skirted it and made for a rural area. Soon, they came to a collection of seemingly abandoned farm buildings. The gateway was guarded by a contingent of orcs who waved the wagons through. They pulled up in a spacious yard.
Stryke got out. The place was full of resistance members. Brelan was foremost. Chillder hovered in the background.
'You asked for seven,' Stryke said, jabbing a thumb at the disembarking passengers, 'I've brought you thirty.'
'I'm impressed,' Brelan admitted.
'And here's something else for you,' Stryke added. He balled his fist and delivered a heavy punch to Brelan's jaw, flooring him. 'That's for putting my band in danger.'
On all sides, resistance members went for their weapons. A number moved forward.
Brelan raised a hand and stopped them. 'Right,' he said, spitting a mouthful of blood. 'I think we can work together.'
17
