NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: The Adventures of the Creeping Bam (BOOK 1: The Job)

CHAPTER SIX: SHAYLINE

"What the fuck, Shay? C'mon, we can still do this." Tarrow's on his feet now, clearly no longer caring to maintain any kind of cover under these bushes we've draped for cover in the immediate entrance to this conveniently placed little grove.

"No we can't." Roe mutters, loud enough that he intends to be heard. He points at the other side of the river, just past the bridge. "We lost the initiative."

The wagon's been pulled out of its barricade position now, Farley driving it while the rest of his team are following at a despondent pace, constantly casting reproachful looks back to the bridge. I can't see what they're looking at, but it's easy enough to work out. It was enough to give me pause.

"Bollocks." Tarrow must have seen it too, throwing his sword down. Being a half-orc like me, he's strong enough for the blade to sink in a good foot before it wedges. He snorts his frustration, the air cold enough that his breath steams around his tusks. "Min ain't gonna be happy 'bout this."

"You let me worry about what my mother thinks." I push back into a crouch from my face-down prone position waiting under the bush, then stand up without any undue haste. We're not fighting, so there's no sense in bothering with any unwarranted exertion. "This wouldn't have gone our way. You saw what they had with them."

"We could've taken that ogre. It can't be no great threat if a bunch o' half-arsed sellswords won it over to fight for 'em." Tarrow yanks his sword free in a great cloud of dirt clods and starts following me out into the open beyond the trees, shaking and swinging the sword about as he works to clear the muck away from it. "We got 'em outnumbered easy. 'Sides, we got Garnon. That horny fucker would've sorted that big brute out easy."

"That's not an ogre, Tarrow." Roe dusts himself off as he joins us on the road, squinting out over the river and the scene beyond now through the smoked lenses of his darkened spectacles. As I turn back I can see the rest of my crew, thirty-strong and all of them looking most frustrated, coming out of the trees behind us. Only big Shag seems unconcerned, but then I've never seen anything faze that old orc. He was fearless and unstoppable when he followed my mother herself on raids, and just as fearless and unstoppable following me now.

"What you talkin' about, 'course it's an ogre. You see the size o' that bastard?"

"I did." Roe stops at my side, taking a moment to stretch and wincing a little as his back pops loudly. The grizzled hobgoblin adjusts his leather armour once he's straightened out, scratches at the bristly hair on his pointed, snout-like chin as he contemplates the scene. "Did you actually bother to properly look, or just take a glance? Didn't you see its face?"

"It's wearin' a hood. I'm just goin' off the size. Y'know the only thing comes that size is an ogre."

"Not true." I toe a stone out of the dirt at my feet, give it a good kick. It plops into the river beyond. Across the fast-flowing water, Farley's pulled the cart and his accompanying would-be fighters out a good thirty metres from the bridge now, clearly wanting to give our quarry a respectful distance. I don't blame him. "There's one other thing out there that can come that size, depending on how it's built. My mother read to me about them once. Just one could probably tear through that barricade like it was paper, Garnon's magic included."

"What is it?" For the first time, Tarrow's starting to look nervous, which is a good thing. A little fear can make people smarter, and in his case that can only be an improvement.

"A golem."

For a few moments he just looks at me, frowning and incredulous. "Ah, bollocks. That's a laugh. Golems? That's just a myth, ain't it?"

"No, it's not." The voice is silky, soft and smooth as a lover's caress. We all turn to find Garnon Javette stalking up on our left, staff tapping impatiently across the hard-packed dirt of the road and a baleful look on their normally inscrutable face. Out dragonhalf wizard has been made to run once again, and this time it wasn't even from a battle. No wonder they're crabby. "I don't think that fight would've gone our way. We're going to need to rethink this strategy."

Tarrow genuinely blanches this time, and I swear his mid-green skin gets a little paler. "Shit."

"Like I said, golem." I brush the hood back from my head, smooth my hands back over my cornrows. The other party appears on the other side, their cart and riders moving off down the road on the other side at a surprisingly calm pace. Or maybe not that surprising. The massive hulking shape of the aforementioned ancient war-machine strolls along in the rear now, scanning the rest of our group on the far side, still keeping a widely respectful distance. Those red eyes blaze as it looks them over, then it turns back in a way that could almost be called dismissive.

A moment later the tall, solid woman from yesterday's battle emerges too, mounted on that huge black horse that looks about as lethal as she is. She wheels her mount around and trots out a few feet towards the bank to look over at us, and she looks so unbelievably calm that it would be infuriating in anyone else. I found her striking yesterday when she was getting ready to fight me, and more so when she gave me that chance to retreat. Today she might be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

She looks us over for a few moments, then I swear she must look right at me, actually smiling as she raises her hand to give a wave. I'm so taken aback by it that I almost respond in kind, and I'm sure I must be blushing just a little bit. Instead I just stare back, then after a moment I allow myself to smile a little too. I tip her a nod. No reason we can't be civil about this.

As she wheels her horse back around and trots off after her companions, I let out a sigh and turn back to Garnon. "What do you think?"

They consider for a moment, look across at our still-intended quarry, and let their staff settle against their shoulder as they grip it tight, thoughtful now. "It could still be done, but we're going to have to be very careful about this."

"Maybe." Roe rubs at the back of his neck, but it's more of a thoughtful gesture than any kind of nervous tic. "This crew are sharp, especially their leader. She's wily like one of those kitsune folk. They won't just fall for any old tricks, and we won't catch them napping on a night watch. And that big metal bruiser complicates things."

Nodding, I step away from the group, walking a little way back down the road from the bridge while I'm thinking. They're right, the only two people in this cutthroat crew I can really trust, apart from old Shag Face Razer. This is going to be a far tougher job than we were led to believe. I definitely can't do this with the resources I have to hand. We need something more serious. Perhaps there's a way ...

I turn and stroll back to my friends, folding my arms as I go. To Roe, I say: "Can you and the others follow them, but discretely? They might realise you're following, they might not. I don't think it'll matter all that much, but better not to tempt a reprisal before we're ready." When he nods I turn to Garnon.

"I need to speak to my mother."