'Yes,' the kelpie confirmed.
'So how do the goblins fit into this?'
'The Gatherers are the catchers of slaves. The goblins buy. A few for themselves, but mostly to be sold on in turn. They stand between the slavers and their prey's ultimate masters. Their role is to match suitable slaves to the tasks they will undertake. So it's trolls or gnomes for islands where mining takes place, elves and brownies for houses of pleasure, gremlins for the drudgery of scholarly work. Even orcs, to provide bodyguards for petty tyrants. Though they are notoriously hard to break, you'll be proud to hear.'
Coilla frowned. 'There are islands here where orcs live?'
'Oh, yes. None near to this one, however, and even the Gatherers hesitate to try plundering them.'
'And what about kelpies? What sort of so-called owners are found for you?'
'We are in demand on many islands.'
'You have special skills?'
'No. It seems we make good meat.'
The silence that followed was broken by Jup. 'How did you escape the goblins?'
'Purely by chance. A rare lapse of attention on their part let me seize the opportunity to get away. I believe the only reason they haven't mounted a search for me is because, as my kind counts time, I am old. Very old. My flesh would be too tough!' He gave a watery, snorting laugh. 'There's no profit to them in wasting energy on me. Particularly as they are presently small in number.'
'How small?' Stryke wanted to know.
'Barely two score. Normally there are many more present, but the rest are away delivering the latest batch of… goods. That's why there are only kelpie prisoners here at the moment.'
'Why haven't you tried to overcome them yourselves, while their numbers are low?'
'We are hampered in two ways. First, we have no leadership. It's not our way. We are a fiercely independent breed.' He sighed. 'And look where it's got us.'
'And second?'
'Can you who dwell solely on the land imagine what it is to be dependent on water? We have to wallow in its life-giving essence several times a day. Our lives depend on it. A kelpie deprived of water dies a horrible and lingering death. We can hardly mount an uprising when weighed down with that necessity. I myself have to visit the shore daily to bathe. I don't doubt they will catch me there one day and kill me.'
'No they won't. We're gonna help you.'
'You are?'
'You bet,' Coilla said.
'Definitely,' Pepperdyne and Jup chorused.
The kelpie was taken aback. 'The human too? What have we done to deserve this?'
'Let's just say we're like you: we value freedom,' Stryke said. 'Do you have a name?'
'Of course.'
'What is it?'
'It would do you no good knowing, unless you're able to talk underwater.'
'Er, no. That's not one of our skills.'
'Just call me the kelpie.'
'You have our protection. Come with us. You could probably use something to eat. What do you eat?'
'Not the hearts of hatchlings. Our appetites are wide-reaching, but given the choice we favour fish.'
'We'll see what we can do.'
On their way back to the others, Stryke asked Jup how he felt.
'I'm fearful of Spurral falling into the hands of scum like these goblins.'
'So take it out on them until we find the Gatherers.'
'I intend to.'
'Good. I knew that'd cheer you up.'
They waited for dark.
Under cover of night they positioned themselves around the goblin compound. Stryke had sent for the five guarding the boats, to up the numbers. But he kept Standeven well out of things, and relegated Wheam to a backup.
There were perhaps a dozen goblins visible. Most of them bore the metal-topped trident spears they favoured, but also carried blades. The rest of the goblins were either in the various buildings or on the beach near the anchored ships.
'We keep this simple,' Stryke whispered to Coilla. 'Get in fast, kill 'em.'
'So how's that any different to what we usually do?'
'Ready?'
She nodded.
He signalled, and it was passed on.
The first move was down to the archers. They shot bolts into the compound that dropped five or six of the goblins before the others caught on. The next volley was of flaming arrows aimed at the buildings' rush roofs, for chaos' sake.
The blazing arrows were the signal to charge. Out of hiding, the Wolverines swept in from all sides. The goblins who had survived the arrow bombardment were recovering their balance, and the ones in the now-burning buildings had spilled out. Those on the beach, alerted by the fires, were hurrying back.
So the orcs faced the full compliment, and relished it.
Stryke lashed out at the first goblin he met. His blade severed the sinewy neck, sending its head bouncing across the sand. The next took steel to its guts. He disarmed a third by simply doing just that: he lopped off the creature's sword arm, then ran it through.
For Coilla, the lure of her throwing knives had proved too strong. Plucking them from the holsters strapped to her arms, she lobbed in rapid succession. A goblin fell with a blade in its eye; another stopped one with its back. Spotting a goblin rushing at her, its trident levelled, she struck it square to the chest. Yet another caught a knife in what would have been its privy parts, if it had any.
Pepperdyne had the by-now-familiar experience of confronting foes surprised to be facing a human. For the goblins, he guessed, humans meant Gatherers and grubby mutual interest. They were stunned to be attacked by one. Their initial hesitation was a bonus he seized. His sword hewed wiry flesh.
Haskeer, battling nearby and trying not to admire the human's style, spat on subtlety, as usual. He brought down the first goblin he came across with bare fists, then snapped its curved spine over his knee. The one after that he eviscerated.
All acquitted themselves well, even the seasoning tyros. But Jup outshone. He fought with a ferocity to equal that of the matchless orcs. Spurred by frustration and fury, drunk on bloodlust, he gave no quarter. Armed traditionally with his staff, and having a long-bladed knife to hand, he thundered into the goblins like a pint-sized tsunami. He shattered skulls and ripped through throats. Landing a particularly vicious blow, he propelled a goblin over the fence and into the kelpies' pool. They put paid to it with thrashing hooves and snapping teeth.
The moment arrived, as it does in every battle, when it dawned on the victors that there was no one left standing to fight. A quick search of the buildings that escaped the fire, and the surrounding area, confirmed it.
The kelpie prisoners were liberated. They scrambled from the pool and shook themselves. Some pawed the ground, as though that was a pleasure they had long been deprived of.
Stryke got his officers together, and the ageing kelpie joined them.
'We've got to make a choice,' Stryke told them. 'Either we push on to the Gatherers' island or we stay here in the hope that Spurral and the slavers turn up. You should have first say on this, Jup.'
'I… I honestly don't know, chief. My instinct is to go on. Then again, knowing this is where the slaves are brought…'
'It's one place they are brought,' the kelpie corrected. 'This isn't the only island where goblins, and other races, collect slaves.'
'Shit. So Spurral might not be brought here?'
'Don't despair. This is the most likely place. But your mate has not arrived yet, which, given when she was taken, makes me think the Gatherers are sticking to their pattern.'
