The Wolverines’ own standard was lying in the grass nearby. Alfray unfurled it and sent the message.
“Get Darig to a horse,” Stryke added.
“What?”
“I want him ready, I want you
all
ready, in case we need to move fast.”
“I don’t know if he’s in a fit state to ride.”
“It’s that or we leave him, Alfray.”
“Leave him?”
“Just do as you’re told.”
“I’ll double with him on my horse.”
Stryke thought about that for a moment. “All right. But if he slows you, dump him.”
“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Remember it. It could be the difference between us losing one life or two.”
Alfray looked far from happy, but nodded agreement. Not that Stryke believed he’d do it.
“If this Delorran is such an enemy,” Jup said, “are you sure it’s wise for you to go?”
“It has to be me, Jup, you know that. And it’s under truce. Stand ready, all of you.”
He went to Coilla. They mounted and began riding down the hill.
“Leave the talking to me,” he told her. “If we have to get out fast, don’t hesitate, just do it.”
She gave an almost imperceptible nod.
They reached Delorran and what they could now tell was his sergeant.
Stryke spoke first. He kept it even and cool. “Well met, Delorran.”
“Stryke,” he responded through clenched teeth. Even a basic civility seemed an effort for him.
“You’re a long way from home.”
“Let’s cut the niceties, shall we, Stryke? We both know why I’m here.”
“Do we?”
“If you want to play out this farce to its bitter end, I’ll tell you. You and your band are absent without leave.”
“I hope you’re going to let me explain why.”
“The reason’s obvious. You’ve deserted.”
“Is that a fact?”
“And you have something belonging to the Queen. I’ve been sent to get it back. By any means necessary.”
“
Any
means? You’d take up arms against fellow orcs? I know we’ve had our differences, Delorran, but I’d have thought even you —”
“I’ve no scruples when it comes to traitors.”
Stryke bridled. “So we’ve gone from deserters to traitors, have we? That’s quite a jump.” There was steel in his tone.
“Don’t play the innocent with me. What else would you call it when you fail to return from a mission, steal Jennesta’s property and side with the Unis?”
“That’s some set of charges, Delorran. But no way have we gone over to the Unis or anybody else. Use your head. We couldn’t approach them without being cut down, even if we wanted to.”
“I should think they’d welcome an orc fighting unit with open arms. Probably be good for recruiting others as treacherous as you. But I’m not here to bandy words. I judge you by your actions, and slaughtering a camp of orc females and hatchlings tells me all I need to know.”
“
What?
Delorran, if you’re talking about what I think you are, the orcs in that camp died from disease. We just torched it to —”
“Don’t insult me with your lies! My orders are clear. You’ll hand over the artifact, and your band will lay down their weapons and surrender.”
“Like hell we will,” Coilla said.
Delorran shot her a look of fury. “You exercise little discipline over your subordinates, Stryke. Not that it surprises me.”
“If she hadn’t said it, I would. If we’ve got something you want, come and get it.”
Delorran reached for his sword.
“And if you want to violate a flag of truce, go ahead,” Stryke added, raising a hand to his own blade.
They glared at each other.
Delorran didn’t draw his sword. “You’ve got two minutes to think about it. Then give up or put up.”
Stryke turned his horse without a word. Coilla, after a parting scowl at Delorran, joined him. They galloped back up to the band.
Swinging from his saddle, Stryke outlined the exchange. “They’ve got us marked as traitors, and they think we massacred those orcs in the camp we torched.”
Alfray was shocked. “How could they think we’d do
that?
”
“Delorran’s ready to believe anything about me, as long as it’s bad, and in about a minute and a half they’ll be coming up here to take us. Dead or alive.” He looked to the gathered Wolverines. “It’s crunch time. Surrender and we face certain death, either at Delorran’s hands or when he takes us back to Cairnbarrow. If I’m to meet my death it’s going to be here and now, with a sword in my hand.” He scanned their faces. “How say you? Are you with me?”
The band let him know they were. Even Haskeer and the trio who supported him were game for a fight, although their assent was a little less enthusiastic than the others’.
“All right, we’re prepared to make a stand,” Jup said. “But look at the situation we’re in: a battle about to start behind us and a determined force of hardened warriors ahead. What the fuck do we do?”
A few other voices were raised, wanting to know the same thing.
“We strengthen our position if we hold off their first attack,” Stryke told them. “And it’s coming any second.”
At the bottom of the hill, Delorran’s force was massing for a charge.
“Mount up!” Stryke shouted. He waved his sword at a couple of grunts. “Help Darig on to Alfray’s horse. Alfray, I want you to the back of our defences. Move! All of you!”
The band scrambled for their horses and filled their hands with weapons. Stryke retrieved the star from Alfray and remounted.
Delorran’s band was galloping up to them, with perhaps a third of the group holding back as reserves.
Stryke voiced a final thought. “It goes against the grain to meet our own kind in battle. But remember they believe we’re renegades and they’ll kill us if they get the chance.”
The time for talk was over. Stryke raised his arm, brought it down hard and yelled, “Now . . .
charge!
”
The Wolverines turned their horses and swept down to meet the first wave.
They might have been outnumbered, despite the reserve left behind, but they had the advantage of defending higher ground.
Blades clashed, horses milled and shied, blows were delivered and returned. The air was filled with the sound of steel impacting steel as swords met shields.
For Stryke and the others, fighting their own race was a unique and disturbing experience. He hoped it didn’t curb their determination. He wasn’t sure if it affected Delorran’s troop.
But it could have been significant that after five minutes of intense swordplay the attackers began to fall back without major injuries on either side.
As they retreated down the hill, Stryke shouted, “Their hearts weren’t in it! If I know Delorran, he’ll be giving them hell for that effort. We can’t expect it so easy when they come back.”
Sure enough, they watched as Delorran addressed his band, and it didn’t look like a gentle lecture.
“We can’t hold them off forever,” Coilla stated grimly.
Jup glanced down at the battlefield behind them. The two sides were slowly advancing towards each other. “Nor do we have anywhere to run.”
Delorran’s group prepared to attack again, this time with the entire force.
Stryke made a decision. It bordered insanity, but he saw no other way.
“Listen to me!” he bellowed at the Wolverines. “Trust the order I’m going to give, and follow me!”
“We’re going to charge them again?” Coilla asked.
Delorran’s troop was thundering up the rise.
“Trust me!” Stryke repeated. “Do as I do!”
The enemy was nearer and gathering speed. There was no doubt of their greater resolve. They advanced to a point no more than a short spear throw away.
Stryke’s gaze flicked to the battlefield.
“Now!”
he yelled.
Then he turned his horse and spurred it to the top of the rise.
In seconds he had reached the crest and was down the other side.
“Oh no . . .” Jup moaned.
Haskeer was slack-jawed, unable to take in what was happening. He wasn’t alone. None of the rest of the band moved.
Delorran was almost on them.
It was Coilla who seized the initiative. “Come on!” she roared. “It’s our only chance!”
She brought her horse around and followed Stryke.
“Shit!” Haskeer cursed. But he did the same, along with the other Wolverines.
Alfray, with Darig hanging on, even managed to raise their banner.
As they reached the hill’s summit, Stryke was already well down the other side.
In the valley below, the two armies were approaching each other with increasing speed. Humans ran with pikes and spears. Cavalry charged.
The gap between them was closing fast. Like bats out of hell, the Wolverines headed for it.
Delorran and his troops arrived at the top of the hill.
The fact that there was a battle going on in the valley below came as a shock to them. Horses were suddenly reined in, and would have been even if Delorran hadn’t thrown up a hand to halt them.
They gazed down, astonished, as the charging orcs made straight for the point where the front lines of the two opposing armies were about to meet.
“What do we do, sir?” the sergeant said.
“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” Delorran replied, “we watch them commit suicide.”
The angle the Wolverines were racing down was so acute they slid as much as rode.
Coilla turned in her saddle and looked back up the hill. She saw the rest of the band close behind. Above, their pursuers had stopped and were watching them. She goaded her horse and drew parallel with Stryke.
“What the hell are we doing?” she bellowed.
“We just go through!” he mouthed over the wind whipping at their faces. “They won’t be expecting it!”
“They’re not the only ones!”
The opposite armies were moving closer by the moment.
Stryke pointed downward. “But we have to keep going! And we don’t stop even when we reach the other side!”
“
If
we reach the other side!” she yelled at him.
With a jarring thud they bumped on to the flat, the other Wolverines close behind. Stryke glanced over his shoulder. The band were still together. Alfray, with Darig hanging on grimly, was at the rear, but holding his own.
Now that they were on the level the going was faster. The drawback was losing the vantage point they had had on higher ground. From this angle the armies looked a lot closer together, and the increasingly narrow space between them was harder to gauge. Stryke spurred his already lathering horse and called out for the others to keep pace.
Onward, onward, into the valley of death they rode.
They hurtled towards the killing field, the roar of thousands of battle-crazed combatants filling their ears.
Then they were between the advancing lines. Enemies to the left of them, enemies to the right.
A blur of bodies and indistinct faces flashed by. Stryke was dimly aware of heads turning, arms pointing, inaudible shouts aimed in their direction. He prayed that the element of surprise and the confusion of imminent battle would give the Wolverines some kind of edge. And he hoped that the band could benefit from neither army being sure whose side these unexpected intruders were on. Though once they were identified as orcs, he knew the Unis would assume they were here to support the Manis.
They were less than a quarter of the way across the battlefield when arrows and spears began winging their way. Fortunately the two hordes were still far enough apart that the missiles fell harmlessly short. But the soldiers were covering ground at even greater speed. If they flagged for a moment, the Wolverines would be dashed by lethal tides on either side. Here and there, knots of warriors faster on their feet, or mounted on horses with a clear path, were already rushing to block the band’s progress.
A group of footsoldiers, armed with pikes and broadswords, ran forward just ahead of Stryke. He rode through them, knocking them aside. Coilla and the band trampled the rest. The orcs were lucky. Had the ground troops been less taken by surprise, and more organised, they could have put a stop to the Wolverines’ flight there and then.
Arrows were landing nearer. A spear cut the air between the rump of Stryke’s horse and the snout of the one behind. Individual soldiers dashed in right and left to harry the galloping orcs. They lashed out in their turn, cutting down Unis and Manis indiscriminately.
A black-garbed human ran forward and leapt at Coilla’s horse, grabbing its reins. He hung on, pulling down with all his weight. Her horse faltered and wheeled, bunching up the Wolverines behind her. More humans were running from all directions to join the fray.
She plucked free a knife and slashed at the face of the man slowing her. He screamed and fell. The following orcs rode over him. Coilla dug in her heels. The band put on a burst of speed and outpaced the running soldiers.
On the flank of the column and more vulnerable, Haskeer swung his axe, to one side then the other, cracking the skulls of pikemen trying to unseat him. Roaring, he made his getaway.
The Wolverines rode on, the view to either side choked with endless twin seas of charging human warriors.
Stryke knew the band was losing momentum. He feared they’d be overwhelmed at any second.
Seen from atop the hill, the band’s progress across the valley resembled a handful of tiny black pearls rolled by a giant. Delorran and his troopers watched as the vice closed in to crush them.
“The
lunatics
,” Delorran exclaimed. “They’d rather throw their lives away than face my justice.”
“They’re finished right enough, sir,” his sergeant agreed.
“We can’t linger here and risk being seen. Make ready to leave.”
“What about the artifact, sir?”
“Do
you
want to go and get it?”
The Wolverines’ way across the battlefield was about to be blocked. Hundreds of humans, Uni and Mani, were converging ahead of them, from left and right.
“Come!” Delorran barked.
He turned his horse and led his troopers down their side of the hill.
In the valley, Stryke saw humans running forward to obstruct the band’s path. He kept going, barrelling into them, lashing out with his sword. A brace of heartbeats later the rest of the Wolverines smacked into the human wall and began carving through it. More chaos ensued as the two sides also started fighting each other.