upon the pack. He took one more sniff at his sibling's corpse, then, without looking back, set off eastwards. The pack followed immediately.
71
The ride continued. Anyx had no idea of the time or of how long they had been travelling. And he was fighting on two fronts - to stay awake and to stay on the horse.
They must be somewhere near the Forts by now, he thought - they had to be, otherwise there would no chance of reaching the crossing at Deadferry by dawn. He wondered how Azif planned to get through the Forts and beyond into the Eastlands. He realised that the Moor was relying on a low state of alert, a consequence of the constant lack of action for the garrison stationed there. But other than that what did Azif have in mind? Maybe they would be lucky and one of the gates would be left open and they could simply ride through... but should that happen then surely pursuit would be inevitable and the horses were already tiring. Getting through by stealth would be a much better option - maybe scaling a wall, for example - but then that would mean leaving the horses behind. Oh well, as far as the dwarf was concerned, Azif was in charge now and so it was up to the Moor to come up with the solution. Mmm, it would be interesting to see just exactly what that solution would be...
Presently there appeared a grey smudge on the horizon, courtesy of the pale light of the moon, Anyx realised. He stared ahead and presently the smudge resolved into a solid line. Soon it became apparent that the solid line was in fact a long solid stone-built wall, about sixteen to eighteen feet high, the dwarf estimated, and interspersed with taller towers and gateways.
'The Forts,' Azif grunted. 'Now it is up to you, little one.'
'What?'
'Well, we cannot fight our way through,' the Moor replied calmly, 'and, unless you can make these horses fly, nor we cannot go over the walls. Therefore we must - what is the word, begins with a b-'
'Bullshit?' suggested Will unthinkingly.
'I was thinking of bluff - we must bluff our way through, although bullshit is just as good a word and is your area of expertise, is it not?' Azif asked, looking directly at Anyx.
'I resent that,' complained Anyx, without really meaning it.
Azif bowed his head. 'I apologise. Allow me to re-phrase. You are shrewd, astute and clever and you have a manner which enables you to get exactly what you want without people realising it.'
'You make me sound like a right con-dwarf...' grumbled Anyx, despite being secretly flattered by the Moor's words. 'Anyway, how would you know what I'm like? You've only just met me!'
'Because, little one, it is immodest of me, but I flatter myself that I am a perceptive man. And also,' Azif continued, 'Robin had sent a message for me with Will.'
'Really?' asked Anyx, looking sideways at Will, who didn't meet the dwarf's questioning gaze. 'And what exactly did this message entail?'
'It was simply 'beware the dwarf - he's a cunning little bastard!''
72
They slowed as they approached the Forts and headed towards the Southern Gate, the last gate before the wall curved south-westwards where it eventually met the craggy tors which bordered the Uppen Downs on its eastern-most edge. Massive granite cliffs made it impossible to enter the Eastlands there without a massive southerly detour. The gates, constructed with 12 foot lengths of oak, each one at least 2 feet thick, were firmly shut, and, despite the lit torches burning brightly within their brackets, there seemed to be no-one manning (or trolling) the walls. At any moment the outlaws expected to hear a cry of 'who goes there' but none came. They all looked at each other and shrugged, as if to say 'what now?'
'Oh well,' said Anyx eventually, 'I guess we'll just have to knock.' He clumsily climbed down from the back of A'Veil's horse and, rubbing his aching backside, approached the gate. With a nod of encouragement from the others he pounded on the door. 'Open up,' he shouted. 'Open up in the name of Captain Grantt. We are on an important mission and cannot afford to be delayed!'
A'Veil, Azif and Will all shifted uncomfortably in their saddles - where the bloody hell had that come from, they all thought, which was a question the dwarf was also asking himself; the words had simply come tumbling out without having gone through all the tedious business of having been thought up. Oh well, he hurriedly decided, he'd simply have to carry it through now. 'Open up,' he shouted again and after a moment he heard the sounds of scraping and shuffling on the other side of the gate.
'Who goes there?' came the hail eventually, voiced by someone who had obviously just woken and yet was strangely familiar to the dwarf. A sudden flash of instinct warned Anyx not to try and hide his identity and he quickly made the decision to follow his gut feeling.
'Anyx, Son of Abych, Son of Aggun, Information Officer to Captain Grantt. Now open these gates before I have you arrested and dragged back to Marasmus in shame.' (Information Officer? What the hell was an Information Officer? Well, whatever it was, he was one now.)
'Er, sorry, but did you say 'chains?'' came the familiar voice from behind the massive doors.
'No, I said shame. Dragged back in shame.'
'Oh. Right. I see. S'just that, well, chains is more usual. But shame you say. Fair enough, just wanted to be clear. Hang on a tick.' And then 'Scree you lazy bastard, give us a hand over here will you - this latch is awful stiff.'
Anyx rejoiced. Scree, the familiar voice had said. Which must mean the voice itself must belong to none other than Shale. He turned to his companions, thinking quickly. 'Right then. Azif, you're a prisoner, yes? Will, you're a guard. And Maid, you're... just yourself, alright? Follow my lead, okay, and we've got a good chance of getting through.'
The doors gave a long, low creak of complaint and a gap opened, into which Shale's flinty shadowed visage appeared. For a second or two he looked puzzled, before recognition suddenly dawned.
'Here,' he said, 'Don't I know you? Yes, you're the ankle-biting bugger that got me and my mate into bother. 'Ere, Scree, come look who it is.'
Scree's head appeared alongside Shale's. 'You're right, mate, it is the little bastard. What the bloody hell are you doing here?'
Anyx pulled himself up to his full height, which, admittedly, wasn't very much. 'Do you two usually talk to superior officers in such a manner,' he asked, with all the authority he could muster. 'And did you not hear what I said? I just happen to be on a vital mission in my capacity as Information Officer, under the orders of Captain Grantt of the Secret Guard and I must pass at once.'
Shale frowned. 'But you're wanted,' he said. 'You told us so yourself.'
'A mere 'ruse de guerre',' answered the dwarf.
'What's a rusty gear got to do with anything?'
'Ere' said Scree, ignoring Shale. He pointed at Azif. 'Ain't that that heathen that was locked up?'
'The heathen, as you say, is travelling under my personal custody,' interjected Anyx. 'He is central to our mission. May I remind you that impeding an officer in the course of his duty is an offence punishable by... some sort of, um, punishment...'
'Look,' replied Shale, 'no-one's impeding anyone but we've been told that no-one, absolutely no-one, can pass through these gates. Standing orders. Or is that direct debits? Can never remember. Anyway, no-one comes in, no-one goes out, them's the rules!'
Anyx opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Scree , who was staring hard at Azif. 'Here, if he's your prisoner, why's he not manacled?' the troll pointed out.
'Er... good question...'
'Ah,' interjected Shale with a self-important smile. 'I can answer that. He's obviously being dragged in shame.' He turned back towards the dwarf. 'Chains're much better, though,' he advised. 'I'm pretty sure chains will do the job much better. Still-'
'Thanks for the advice but listen, we really must get through.'
'Sorry, no can do - direct debits, like I said-'
Anyx leaned forward conspiratorially. 'Look,' he said in a low voice, 'I like you two. We've got history, and I don't want to see you get into any trouble-'
'Any more trouble, more like-' Shale pointed
out.
'-any more trouble, as you say. So I'm going to do you two a favour. Don't make it obvious but take a look at the girl-' - both heads turned towards the Maid A'Veil in unison - '-I said don't make it obvious! For Gods' sake stop staring. Anyway, do you recognise her?'
'Um... ain't that the captain's daughter?' asked Shale eventually.
'You've got it. Now ask yourself two questions: Firstly, would Grantt send his own daughter on a mission if it wasn't absolutely vital?'
'Well-'
'And secondly, what would Grantt do to you if he found out that it was you two who prevented that absolutely vital mission from being completed?'
Scree looked at Shale. Shale looked at Scree. 'P'raps we should wake the Sarge-' suggested Scree after a moment.
'What! After last time?' responded Shale who was definitely the smarter of the two. Though there wasn't much in it, thought Anyx.
Shale turned to the dwarf. 'This mission of yours... is it, you know, top secret?'
Anyx leaned further forward. 'Just about as top as top can get-'
'So,' continued Shale, obviously thinking hard. 'Should anyone ask, for example, 'Oi, you two, have you let anyone through these gates tonight, you worthless pair?' then we'd obviously have to say..?'
'No. You would answer no,' insisted the dwarf. 'Nobody must know. Absolutely no-one. Particularly not Grantt, should he just happen to pass this way-'
'But didn't you say that you were acting under the orders of the captain?'
'Yes,' replied Anyx smoothly. 'But think about it. If, for the sake of argument, he was to ask you if you knew anything about a tip-top secret mission and you said yes, well it wouldn't be tip-top secret anymore and he'd know it. And with his temper, well, anything could happen, if you know what I mean.'
Shale pondered this. 'Right,' he said eventually. 'Probably best if we stay schtum then, yes?'
'You're obviously a very smart soldier,' replied Anyx, trying to disguise the relief in his voice. 'No doubt you'll go a long way. Now, if you could stand aside we'll be going a long way too.'
73
Elsewhere, Theodore De Ville looked on, trying to decide what action to take. To be honest he'd been surprised that these foolish followers of Wacchus had managed to get as far as they had. One lot had somehow traversed Sodden Marsh and the others had gotten through the Eastern Forts with considerable ease. Theodore had been grudgingly impressed at the dwarf's élan. He sat down and put his head in his hands, carefully avoiding the horns, of course, and considered his position.
Theodore was merely a devil, not The Devil. Only the top dog, so to speak, was entitled to the honorific 'The' and the capital letter. But Theo was ambitious and maybe one day, he occasionally allowed himself to think, he would be numero uno. In the meantime he had to ensure that his own small realm, both the physical and metaphysical aspects thereof, ran like clockwork.
The physical aspect of his realm just happened to be Terra Infirma, in which the major pressing issue was, of course, this little matter of the Merrie Men. But there was also the metaphysical aspect to consider, i.e. Hell, or Head Office as Theodore liked to think of it. He pushed his chair away from his desk, and wandered over to a diagram which hung in the air over the fireplace. It was what, in another dimension, could be called an organisational chart, and clearly showed the 26 levels of Hell.
Theo took great pride in Hell. The fact that it existed across the boundaries of worlds and dimensions never ceased to amaze him, and meant that he got to meet all sorts of interesting people, albeit not usually at their best. And the way that the whole establishment was structured was a triumph to organisation. He returned his attention to the chart in front of him and his eyes wandered to the top level of Hell, known officially as Hell-A. Hell-A was the level of the elite. It was the eternal