The spears were lowered and the dwarfs stepped back from the Wolverines. The dwarfs moved away from the two humans more reluctantly,
and carried on eyeing them with suspicion. Stryke quickly stuffed the instrumentalities into his pouch, hoping no one had
noticed.
“You must crave sustenance after your journey,” the elder stated ingratiatingly. “Please allow us to lay humble offerings
before you.”
“Let us at it,” Jup replied, trying for an air of command.
The elder ushered them down from the dais and led them away from it. To the band’s bemusement, dwarfs bowed as they passed.
Not a few prostrated themselves. Pepperdyne and Standeven were viewed less respectfully. They got glares.
“They think we’re gods,” Coilla whispered.
“Band of heroes,” Haskeer boasted, “that’s us.”
“Don’t get above yourself,” Jup said. He gave Spurral’s arm a pat. “
We’re
the gods. You’re just a servant.”
Powerless to start anything, Haskeer clenched both his teeth and his fists.
It was obvious that the cavern was a natural formation. Enormous and cone-shaped, it had a round opening in its roof, far
above. They could see blue sky through it.
They were taken to one of a number of tunnel openings. The passage was wide and sloped upwards. Their way was lit by flaming
brands fixed to the walls. Soon they came to where two tunnels crossed, and they turned right, still climbing. Several more
twists and turns brought them to daylight.
They emerged at a high point, giving them a perfect view of where they were. It was a tropical island: sizeable, but not so
big that they couldn’t see its limits. Around two-thirds of it was swathed in lush jungle. There were white beaches against
which an azure sea gently lapped.
The dominant features were a pair of volcanoes towering out of the jungle. One was considerably taller than the other, and
strands of grey smoke rose from both. Looking back, the band realised that that they had just come out of a third volcano,
bigger than either of the other two. The only difference was that it was extinct.
The day was warm, getting on for hot, and no cloud marred the sky. As the Wolverines followed their elderly guide they started
to attract a retinue of dwarfs. There were gangs of children and, for the first time, females. Like their menfolk, they went
bare-chested. Jup found that of particular interest until Spurral elbowed him sharply and cooled his ardour.
Coilla gave Stryke a nudge too, but more gently and in order to draw his attention to something. He followed her eyes. High
up on the volcano they’d just exited was a broad ledge on the seaward side. Standing on it were a line of five or six trebuchets.
The catapults were large, similar to ones the orcs had seen, and used, in sieges.
A little further on they passed a low wooden structure not unlike a squat barn. Its doors were closed and half a dozen stern-faced
dwarfs stood guard outside.
The crowd stared, grinned, laughed and shouted as the procession made its way to a clearing. Dozens of huts of various dimensions
stood there. They were taken to the biggest, a one-storey affair on piles, with a porch on its front. The elder threw open
its door and welcomed them in.
The longhouse was generous enough in size that even the Wolverines and their hangers-on didn’t overfill it.
“My own dwelling,” the elder explained. “I trust it isn’t too humble for you.”
“It’ll do,” Jup said.
There were a gaggle of females present. Members of the elder’s family perhaps, or his wives or servants. They were gaping
open-mouthed at the strange visitors. The elder snapped something at them and they fled, giggling, out the open door.
“I will send you refreshments,” the elder told them. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No,” Spurral replied in her queenly tone. “You may leave us now.”
The old dwarf bowed awkwardly and backed out.
When he’d gone, Haskeer said, “Fuck me.”
“You’ve a skill, Spurral,” Stryke told her. “You should have been a troubadour.”
“They seemed to think we were somebody important. I just played on it.”
Haskeer took in their surroundings. “Not bad, this place. Better than some of the shit-holes we’ve seen lately.”
“Yes, it’s all very fine,” Coilla said, “but what the
fuck
are we doing here? Stryke, how come we’re not in Ceragan?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you make a mistake setting the stars?”
“I’d swear I didn’t.”
“One way to be sure,” Dallog offered. “Try them again now.”
“No,” Stryke decided. “If they got it wrong this time they could again.”
“And we might not end up somewhere as sweet,” Jup finished for him. “There are worse places for a billet.”
“Maybe it’s not as sweet as you think,” Coilla argued. “Did you notice those catapults? They have to be here for a reason.”
“And they’ve got something in that hut back there they don’t want us to see,” Pepperdyne added.
“I agree with Jup,” Stryke declared. “We’ll hold up here.”
“How long for?” Coilla wanted to know.
“For as long as I need to think about why the stars got it wrong. We’re all bushed. It won’t hurt us to take a furlough here.”
The door opened and a multitude of female dwarfs came in bearing platters of food. They laid out a feast for them and withdrew,
bowing. The timber dining table that dominated one end of the room was laden with breads, fish and fruit, much of kinds none
of them recognised. There were also flasks of something that resembled rice wine. Pepperdyne, born an islander, told them
he was pretty sure it was distilled from seaweed. That made some of them doubtful, but it tasted good.
Sitting at the table eating their fill, which was considerable, they allowed themselves to relax a little. Though Stryke did
take the precaution of stationing privates by the door and the several windows. The guards took heaped dishes of food with
them and stuffed themselves as they stood watch.
“What do you think of this as a dwarf world?” Dallog asked of Jup and Spurral.
“Well, they don’t seem as advanced as our tribes in Maras-Dantia,” Jup replied, “but it’s pleasant enough.”
“If you happen to be a fucking god,” Haskeer murmured.
“Any more of your insolence and I’ll have you whipped, underling,” the dwarf teased.
“We’re not gonna be here forever,” Haskeer promised darkly. “Just you wait.”
Jup laughed in his face.
“That language you were speaking,” Pepperdyne said. “What was that all about?”
“In Maras-Dantia, or at least what used to be our part of it,” Stryke informed him, “just about everybody spoke Mutual. How
else would so many different races figure out each other?”
“And now we’ve found it here,” Coilla remarked. “How can that be?”
“Looks like there’s more moving between worlds than we thought.”
“How long was it used in Maras-Dantia?” Pepperdyne asked.
“Forever,” Coilla told him. “Nobody knows who first thought of it.”
“So maybe it didn’t start there. If the worlds have bled into each other more than we know, it could have originated anywhere.”
“Possible, I suppose.” Coilla knew that the elder races weren’t native to Maras-Dantia; it was the humans’ world by birthright.
It seemed logical to her that when the various races were inadvertently deposited there, long ago, they might well have brought
something like Mutual with them. But she didn’t mention any of that. Instead, she said, “From what we heard, it seems humans
aren’t too well liked in these parts, Jode.”
“We gathered that much.”
“Yeah, well, I think it goes a bit deeper than a tiff. Take care.”
“Ahhh, ain’t it cute?” Haskeer mocked. “She’s worried about her little pet.”
“You’ll be worried about the one between your legs if you don’t pipe down,” she promised him.
Nobody spoke for a moment until Wheam wondered, “How do you think they’re getting on in Acurial?”
“Just fine, I should think,” Stryke reckoned.
“You can’t help thinking what they made of us, can you?” Dallog speculated.
“Maybe we’ll go down in their history books,” Coilla said, only half seriously.
“Yeah!” Wheam enthused. “As a band of legendary heroes who —”
He was drowned out by the catcalls of the rest of the band.
“I think you’re right about the resistance winning out there,” Pepperdyne said when it quietened. “I’m more puzzled by who
that bunch were who wanted your stars, Stryke.”
That put a damper on the band.
“Damned if we can figure it out,” Stryke confessed. “But if they really did come from somewhere other than Acurial, like that
elf said, they could turn up here. We’re going to have to be alert for that.”
“Not much of a furlough then,” Coilla came back dryly.
“If these dwarfs don’t try to stop us we’ll find ourselves a good defensible holdout first thing. We’ll be better prepared
if they come again.”
“Against the magic they have?” She paused a moment before braving the next thing she wanted to say. “Stryke, about the stars…”
“What about them?”
“Given they’re precious, and now we might have this new bunch trying to get their hands on them, why don’t you divide them
up between five of us and —”
“No.”
“Don’t just dismiss it, Stryke. It could be a good way of protecting the things.”
“If we lost just one, that’s enough to make the others useless.”
“This isn’t just about you, you know. The stars are our only way home too.”
“
No
, Coilla. Not after what happened last time.”
“You’re blaming me for that, are you?”
“You know I’m not. How could I when I lost four of them to Jennesta myself?”
“So you won’t consider it?”
“It’s better my way.”
“You can be such a stubborn pig sometimes!” she flared. “When are you going to get it through your head that —”
There was a commotion outside. They heard shouts and screams.
Rushing to the door, they saw dozens of dwarfs running in all directions in panic.
The band flooded out of the longhouse. At sea, a flotilla of small boats was heading for the shore. In the distance, a ship
was at anchor.
The Wolverines headed for the beach. There were more dwarfs there, desperate to get away from the advancing boats. They stopped
a few to ask what was going on, but got no sense out of them.
“Look!” Coilla yelled, pointing at the nearest boats.
They were manned by humans.
“I’m guessing it’s not a social visit either,” Stryke observed.
“Now we know why the dwarfs aren’t keen on Jode and Standeven.”
A number of male dwarfs were now running onto the beach as opposed to away from it. They were armed with their spears.
“What do we do?” Dallog asked.
“We make a stand with them,” Stryke replied, “what else?”
“Pity they’ve got nobody operating those trebuchets.” The corporal pointed to the ledge on the volcano.
“No time. They’ve been caught unawares.”
“Yeah,” Coilla agreed, “probably because they were too concerned with us.”
“Here they come!” Haskeer bellowed.
The first of the humans were wading ashore.
“So let’s get to it,” Stryke ordered, drawing his sword.
“Come on!”
He lead them into the surf. Only Standeven held back, skulking far up the beach.
They met the invaders in knee-deep water and laid into them. The humans were shocked to be facing an unknown race, and one
so ferocious, and were equally dismayed to find Pepperdyne among their attackers. That gave the band an initial edge. Soon
the surf was stained red.
But it didn’t take long for Stryke to realise he’d made an error. This wasn’t the incomers’ main or only force. Further along
the shoreline more boats had come round the island’s curve. Humans had already got well inland in that direction. They were
fighting dwarfs on the beach, and the dwarfs weren’t coming off best.
Stryke ordered some of the band to stay where they were and finish off the dwindling number of humans still exchanging blows.
He took the rest up the beach to confront the bigger influx happening there. Spurral, who had proved a good runner, had seen
what was happening and streaked off even before he issued the order. She was well to the fore and not far short of a group
of humans wading ashore.
Running abreast with Haskeer, Jup and Coilla, and with the other band members on their heels, Stryke yelled a warning. A party
of humans who must already have penetrated the island’s interior were returning to the beach, and their path crossed the Wolverines’.
The humans, perhaps twenty strong, were dragging and carrying screaming dwarfs towards the waves.
Stryke’s band and the kidnappers all but collided. Startled by the sudden appearance of a group of creatures they were unlikely
to have encountered before, the humans let go of their captives to defend themselves. The freed dwarfs, most of them young,
began fleeing back into the jungle.
The warband tore into the boatmen, savagely hacking them down. Pepperdyne, taking a great swipe with his blade, parted one
of them from his head. Haskeer, employing both hatchet and knife, hurtled into a duo simultaneously, stabbing one and braining
the other. Dallog plunged his spear into a foe with such force it lifted the man off his feet. Even Wheam gave a good account
of himself, in Wheam terms. He managed no fatalities, but attacked with gusto and inflicted mean wounds on a couple of opponents.
They worked as fast as they could to get through the obstruction and reach the greater number of humans beyond, where more
struggling dwarfs were being hurled into the humans’ bobbing craft.
As the last man in their path was downed and dispatched, several of the grunts started raising a clamour. Stryke and the others
looked to where they were frantically pointing.
Out in deep water, Spurral was grappling with three men. As the band watched, they pummelled her senseless and flung her into
a boat, then hauled themselves aboard.
“
Shit!
” Jup cried. He began running.
The band took off in his wake, arms pumping, heads down.