The Squad (Part Two)

At a glance, the canyon stretched northward below them, made up of scattered gray stones and gleaming black pools, until it was finally blocked by a cracked cliff face that rose like a towering wall.

Not far away, Mount Mishil, like a child's stack of building blocks, grew ever larger. Thin springs could be seen cascading down everywhere, smashing against the stone slabs.

Mist gathered at the foot of the cliffs like white smoke.

"Earlier, when you said it was pouring, I thought you were joking."

"I thought I was joking too."

Walus replied gloomily, setting down his pack and comparing the terrain to the map.

Mu was doing the same.

"It's marked here as Tristan Ridge."

"How long will it take us to get up there?"

Mu put down the map and came over to his side.

"Half a day, maybe, if we can find a passable crack or locate the mouth of that underground river."

"All right. Since they want us in the rear quickly, we'd better get moving."

Walus glanced behind him. Several hours of marching had left many of them exhausted. He knew people tired more easily than usual in an environment like this.

"Ten minutes' rest where you are. After that, we'll cross the canyon. Everyone take a drink, and if you want to feel better, pinch some mushroom powder and snort it."

"Yes."

Then he stepped across the stone slabs and wandered away from the crowd, pulling the green communication device from his pocket for another look.

It bore a string of codes—standard Ork graffiti.

Following the order on the character chart Kundraka had given him, he quickly converted every symbol into its corresponding number. Then, using the method the technicians had taught him, he combined the numbers and obtained a seven-digit channel number.