'Now.'
They swiftly rounded the corner. They were in a short corridor that stretched to a set of imposing double doors. Two sentries stood by them.
Coilla, the better thrower, was first to get a bead. She tossed her blade and brought down one of the guards cleanly. Stryke's throw hit home, but it wasn't fatal, his target catching the blade near his shoulder. Coilla quickly grabbed a second knife, lobbed it and finished the job.
'Thanks,' Stryke mouthed.
Joined by Haskeer, they moved towards the doors. About halfway there, they noticed an opening on their right, which turned out to be a passageway. Its entrance was askew, the right side protruding further than the left, so that it was hard to make out until almost on it.
'Shit,' Coilla hissed, 'that wasn't on the map.'
As she spoke, the sound of muffled boots came to them. Before they could react, a guards patrol came out of the hidden passage. They looked as surprised to see the orcs as the orcs were to see them. But the spell was not long breaking.
The guards charged. The trio met them, steel on steel.
'We'll handle this!' Coilla yelled. 'Go! Go! '
Stryke dodged a swinging blade and sprinted for the double doors. He struck them at speed and they flew inward, nearly putting him on the floor of the room he tumbled into. Then by some agency the doors slammed shut behind him. He spun, gripped the handles and pulled, but they wouldn't be moved.
Jennesta's suite was extensive and opulently appointed. It also seemed empty. There was a grand bed, draped in sheerest silks and dotted with gold-tasselled cushions. But there was no sign of anyone having used it.
Stryke was about to try one of the two doors in the room when the nearest opened.
Kapple Hacher strode in.
'I don't think we've met,' he stated evenly.
'I know who you are,' Stryke said.
'Then perhaps you also know that no one enters this citadel uninvited. Not if they want to live.'
'My business isn't with you, and you won't stop me.'
'We'll see.'
'Just you, is it? No platoon of troopers to back you up?'
'You're not worthy of it. Besides, I need no help dealing with your kind.'
'Bigot.'
' Liberator, if you don't mind. We invaded this land to stop them using weapons of magical destruction against us.'
'That's bull. Orcs don't have a way with magic. Where were they, these weapons?'
'We haven't actually found any yet, but — '
'Lies. A ploy to invade. And who the hell were you liberating?'
'Those many orcs who wanted to avoid the consequences of their masters using their hidden magic against us. You could say we were invited, in an unspoken kind of way.'
'You can't believe that. You've seen the orcs here. They're placid. They'd never have threatened you.'
'Not all your kind are placid, it seems. Are you not from here?'
'You're right. Not all orcs are placid, not at heart. They're aggressive, tough. Warriors far greater than humans.'
Hacher laughed scornfully. 'Not on the evidence I've seen. And a few freaks of nature like you won't change it.'
'So why waste words?'
'Why indeed?' Hacher drew his sword.
Stryke pulled free his own and they set to.
For Hacher, old enough and high ranking enough to have been taught in a classical style, fighting was fencing. To him, a scrap was a duel. As far as Stryke was concerned, a scrap was a scrap.
It came down to undoubted skill and stylishness versus seasoned brute determination.
Hacher fenced, Stryke hacked. Hacher blocked passes with dexterity and put together complex attacks. Stryke battered away and thought only of skewering his opponent's lungs.
In the end an orc's fury and stamina proved the better. Bludgeoning the general's defences, he found a breach and sent his blade through it. The sword pierced Hacher between breastbone and shoulder. It wasn't a deep wound, but enough to offset him and he fell, losing his sword.
Stryke moved in to finish the task. Then stopped.
A presence had entered the room. Somebody who didn't have to speak to command attention. He turned from Hacher and stared.
Jennesta was dressed in black, with leather playing a major part in her ensemble. She wore a choker bristling with glinting spikes, and smaller versions on her wrists. There was something unnameable and almost palpable about her. It was a kind of allure, mixed with equal parts of revulsion. She exuded a power, and there was very little light in it.
Stryke couldn't quite stem a feeling of awe. He had a hint, deep down, of an emotion orcs found alien. Fear.
'It's been a long time,' she said, her tone surprisingly mild.
'Yes,' he said, tritely and feeling like a hatchling.
'You know, you should really bow to me. After all, technically you're still in my service. I never released you from it.'
'We don't bow and scrape since we took our freedom.'
'That wasn't all you took, was it?'
Stryke stopped himself from sending a hand to the pouch he carried the stars in. He said nothing.
'But we're going to put that right at last,' she told him. 'We're going to — '
Hacher groaned.
She swung her head to him, furious. 'Oh get out, you useless wretch. Go and have that seen to. Though why I don't let you bleed to death…'
'Will you be safe with him?' Hacher asked.
'You certainly weren't! There's nothing here that's beyond me. Now get out! '
The general climbed to his feet and limped to the door, a hand pressed against his bleeding wound.
When he left she refocused on Stryke. 'Where were we? Oh, yes, the instrumentalities.' Her face screwed with wrath. 'They were rightly mine. I searched years for them and you've added years more. That's not something I tolerate.'
'They're not for the taking,' Stryke informed her.
'Oh yes they are. The taking, and a lingering death as reward for your insolence.'
'Then you won't mind a condemned orc's last request. How did you escape? After you — '
'After my dear father consigned me to the vortex, you mean, in the hope that I'd be torn to pieces? No, I won't. I don't grant wishes. You can die wondering.'
'And you've climbed high in the world of humans. I'd like to know how.'
'Humans are scum. I've nothing but contempt for them. They're just a means. How I rose among them is something else I won't trouble you with. But it was absurdly easy, I'll say that.'
'Ever the conniver.'
'Realist.' Unexpectedly, her tone became even, almost conversational. 'You know, it's a pity things worked out as they did. You were a good slave once. I might have given you a high position in my service. And when I think about it, we do have something in common, don't we?'
'What in hell could that be?'
'No home. No realm in my case,' she added bitterly. 'Neither of us has roots, somewhere we can have allegiance to. But at least you have your own kind. There aren't many like me.'
'I believe it. What are you saying, Jennesta?' He felt a little flip in his stomach for using a term other than 'Your Majesty.' 'That you want me back in your service?'
