Free Orcs by Stan Nicholls

troubled.
    “Look at it this way, Delorran. If you return without her prize, she’ll have you all put to death anyway. Horribly, knowing her. Weigh that against losing only some of your troop, and your certain promotion. Not to mention evening the score in the grievance you have with Stryke. Of course, if you’d prefer me to find someone else —”
    “No, General. That won’t be necessary.”
    “Anyway, such talk could be pointless. Your quarry may already be dead.”
    “The Wolverines? I doubt it, sir. I’d say they weren’t that easy to kill.”
    “Then why no word from them? If they’re not dead it’s just as unlikely they’ve been captured. They might have fallen prey to one of the afflictions the humans spread, of course, but I think them too careful for that. Which only leaves betrayal. And there were no grounds to believe any of them might turn out traitors.”
    “I’m not so sure. Not all orcs are happy with our present situation, as you know, sir.”
    “Do you have reason to believe Stryke and his band harboured such thoughts?”
    “I claim no knowledge of their thoughts, sir.”
    “Then keep your fancies to yourself, that kind of talk is dangerous. Think only of the cylinder. It has the highest priority. I’m relying on you, Delorran. If you fail, we both suffer Jennesta’s wrath.”
    The Captain nodded grimly. “Stryke’s death will prevent that fate. I won’t let you down, sir.”
    They were ready to move. The only disagreement was where.
    “I say we get ourselves back to Cairnbarrow and confess all to Jennesta,” argued Haskeer. A handful of his supporters in the assembled warband murmured approval. “We have pellucid, and that should stand for
something
. Let’s go back and throw ourselves on her mercy.”
    “We’d be in for a hard landing, comrade,” Alfray said. “And the crystal wasn’t what she sent us for.”
    “Alfray’s right,” Stryke agreed. “The only chance we have is to regain that cylinder.”
    “If we are going to look for it, why don’t we send one or two of the band to Jennesta to explain what the rest of us are doing?” Alfray suggested.
    Stryke shook his head. “To their deaths? No. All of us and the cylinder, or not at all.”
    “But where do we look?” Coilla wanted to know.
    “It has to be the kobolds’ homeland,” Jup said.
    “All the way to Black Rock?” Haskeer scoffed. “That’s long odds, shortshanks.”
    “Can you think of a
better
idea?”
    Haskeer’s resentful silence indicated he couldn’t.
    “They could have gone anywhere,” Coilla told the dwarf.
    “True. But we don’t know where anywhere is. Black Rock we know how to get to.”
    Stryke smiled thinly. “Jup’s got a point. We might spend our lives combing this countryside for those bastards. Black Rock makes more sense, and if the group that robbed us aren’t there now, they might turn up.”
    Haskeer spat.
“Might.”
    “You want to head back to Cairnbarrow, Sergeant, go ahead.” Stryke scanned the Wolverines’ faces. “That goes for anybody here. You can tell Jennesta where we’ve gone before she skins you.”
    Nobody took him up on the offer.
    “It’s settled, then; Black Rock. What do you think, Alfray, a week?”
    “About that. Maybe more ’cause of the horses we lost. Five or six of us are going to have to double up. And don’t forget Meklun. It was bad luck not finding a wagon at Homefield. Dragging him’s going to slow us.”
    Heads turned to the wounded trooper, strapped to his make-shift litter. His face was deathly pale.
    “We’ll look for more horses on the way,” Stryke said, “maybe a wagon.”
    “We could always leave him,” Haskeer put in.
    “I’ll remember that if you ever catch a bad wound yourself.”
    Haskeer frowned and shut up.
    “What about splitting into two groups?” proposed Coilla. “One of the fit, going ahead to Black Rock; the other Meklun, the walking wounded and some able bodies, following on.”
    “No. Too easy