open water. Orc archers returned fire. Their footing was unsure on the heaving rafts and the results were ragged. But the exchange carried on, and there were hits. Through skill or luck, two orcs were struck by bolts. One plunged overboard and was lost. The other fell wounded into the arms of comrades.
A human paid with his life, taking an arrow to the chest. Another was injured and dragged clear of the rail.
By this time the boats had closed in. But the rafts had a small advantage over the larger craft. They didn't have sails to tack, giving them a bit more leeway to manoeuvre. That kept most of the boats clear, though some got in close enough to engage. Spears were lobbed. Arrows, throwing knives and slingshot clattered against raised shields on both sides.
The speed of the river's flow hampered ramming attempts by the boats. Instead they tried to get alongside the rafts and board them. Others did their best to outpace the rafts, hoping to block their way. The orcs fought to stop them.
In this way the two small fleets played cat and mouse along the river. Harrying and assailing, bumping and swerving, hurling weaponry back and forth.
At length, a change came over the river. It flowed even faster, and up ahead it seemed to disappear into a boiling cloud. A deep rumbling could be heard.
'What the hell's that?' Jup said.
'Must be the falls,' Stryke explained.
'So what do we do?' Spurral asked, a little uneasily.
'Brelan's got it worked out. I hope. Just be ready to hold on tight.'
Every rudder operator on the orc rafts was a resistance member, briefed on what to do and when. As the chase progressed they steered nearer to the left bank and stayed alert for a signal.
The roar of water grew louder, the misty cloud loomed higher. Several boats were neck and neck with orc rafts.
On the bank, perilously close to the deafening lip of the falls, stood a cluster of mature trees. They were taller than any others on that stretch. From high up on the tallest there was a spiky flash of light. It repeated a number of times, proving it to be a confederate holding something reflective.
As one, the rafts veered sharply towards the bank. The orcs braced themselves. At the same time bands of archers ashore, some hidden in trees, peppered the human's boats.
The well chosen spot was shallow near the bank, and the majority of the rafts simply ground to a halt. Their occupants leapt off and splashed to shore. Some rafts were barred from quite reaching the shallows by the clutter of vessels. They tossed anchors of iron and rock overboard, then their passengers waded waist high to the riverbank.
The suddenness of the move confused the humans, though they must have known the orcs had no plan to go over the falls. A number of them tried copying the move and beaching in the shallows. But the deeper hauls of their bigger craft ran aground far short of the bank, leaving the troopers loath to brave the fast-flowing water.
Other boats dropped anchor in full flow, but had no benefit. There was such force in the tide that rather than holding, the anchors were dragged along the riverbed by the swiftly drifting boats. Some struggled to turn away from the attraction of the falls and head back the way they'd come. All the while, arrows rained down on them.
One boat, losing all control, slowly spun like a child's paper toy in a gushing stream as the river pushed it past the chaos of vessels and towards the falls. Men jumped from its decks, only to find that the river had as powerful a hold on them as their abandoned craft. Boat and men, black dots in a torrent of foam, rolled into the vast cloud of water vapour. The boat, dark outline showing through the mist, tipped, and for a second seemed to stand on its nose before plunging out of sight.
The last of the orcs swarmed ashore and into the trees. Humans who made it to the bank met a hail of arrows that kept them pinned down at the water's edge.
The resistance had horses waiting, along with a couple of wagons for kit and the wounded. Everyone quickly mounted. In minutes they were on a trail and heading out of the woods.
Their path took them to a rise that ran parallel with the river, so that they could look down to the tangle of vessels, and the humans milling on the bank. One figure was unmistakable. Kapple Hacher stood apart from his men, his fists balled. He looked up and saw the escaping orcs. Even from that distance they could sense his impotent rage. The orcs spurred their mounts and pushed on.
A while later, well clear of the river, they allowed themselves to slow down.
Riding next to Stryke and Brelan at the column's head, Pepperdyne had a question. 'Does that count as a rout or a success?' he wondered.
'Bit of both,' Stryke replied.
'I'd say that's a generous way of seeing it.'
'We did damage. And the way the humans tried to spring their trap could have been handled better, lucky for us.'
'I'm wondering if it was worth upward of forty of our lives,' Brelan said.
'And now we've got a traitor to contend with,' Pepperdyne added.
'We don't know that,' Brelan came back irately. 'It could have been chance.'
'Oh, come on.'
'Maybe Hacher was doing a snap inspection or something, and — '
'And at the same time they just happened to find the entrance to the catacombs minutes after we went in? Listen to yourself.'
'Face it, Brelan,' Stryke said. 'The odds are somebody informed on us.'
'The resistance are loyal,' Brelan stated indignantly. 'You'll find no betrayal in our ranks.'
'Didn't say there was.'
'What are you saying then? Because if there is a spy, and it wasn't an Acurial orc, that doesn't leave much scope, does it?'
'I'm as sure of the Wolverines as you are of your comrades.'
'Can you speak for all of them?' He glanced at Pepperdyne. 'Even those not of our kind?'
'I vouch for them all,' Stryke replied, unswerving.
'I hope you don't need to eat those words. I've things to do.' Brelan turned his horse and rode back down the column.
Pepperdyne looked to Stryke. 'Thanks.'
'I'm trusting you to deserve it. If I'm wrong… well, you'll know about it.'
Before the human could reply, Coilla galloped alongside.
'What's wrong with Brelan?' she asked. 'He shot past me with a face like a corpse.'
'He's pissed off about the way it went,' Stryke said. 'Only natural.'
'And he's tetchy about the idea of a traitor in his group,' Pepperdyne added. 'But I guess that's natural too.'
'What is it, Coilla?' Stryke wanted to know.
'I finished checking the wounded, like you asked. We've got two likely to lose limbs. The rest's all minor stuff. Not bad, considering.'
'No. I need to talk to you, Coilla. Alone.' He gave Pepperdyne a pointed look.
'Don't mind me,' the human responded. He dropped back along the column.
'Have you got it?' Stryke said.
Coilla's expression was blank. 'What?'
'The star.' He looked pained at her not immediately knowing what he meant.
'Oh. Course I have.' She slipped a hand into her jerkin and brought out the instrumentality just enough that only he could see it.
'Good. Guard it well. Above all else.'
'You know I will.' She stuffed it back. 'Really, Stryke, you're obsessed with this thing. Relax, and trust me.'
