by M. M. Perry
“Then why would the king send us out here to kill it? The mountain is huge. Ogres mostly mind their own business if they haven’t gone rogue, and they actually keep other more dangerous creatures who do hunt people away. Ogres won’t share territory with harpies and the like,” Nat said.
“Why indeed,” Cass said, thinking back on the tension between Callan and Oaten. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. I don’t like it, but this is the task we’ve been given, and we can’t continue on our quest until we do.”
Cass looked around the mountain, double checking to make sure there weren’t any other ogres waiting nearby. They were generally solitary creatures, but juvenile siblings had been known to stick together for a while into early adulthood.
“We should try to get the drop on it. It may have been basking in the sun all day. If that’s the case, it could be very agile by now,” Cass said.
They tied their goats up and then skirted around the ogre in a wide circle, trying to get a superior position on the beast. Its gray skin made it hard to keep an eye on, blending in quite well with the mountainside.
Unfortunately for the warriors, the birds foraging on the ogre were more observant than the beast itself, and they took flight as soon as the party got within fifty feet. As the birds took wing, the ogre opened its eyes, suddenly alert. The yellow, reptilian eyes scanned the rocks around it, but didn’t find the warriors because Gunnarr had quickly pulled Cass and Nat roughly down to the ground as soon as the birds fled.
“Now what?” Gunnarr whispered.
Cass closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with her index finger and thumb, trying to concentrate. She thought back to the last time she had encountered an ogre.
“There is a spot, between its shoulder blades, where its skin is a little softer, near enough to its heart that with a solid, well placed thrust you can deliver it a mortal wound. I’ll distract it while you two come up behind it and strike while it’s busy with me,” she said, keeping her voice low.
“That’s the plan? Hit it when it isn’t looking?” Gunnarr asked, hiding a smirk.
Cass looked away and pursed her lips, trying not to smile.
“It’s a classic plan for a reason. I call it Cass’ plan of action which works every time,” she said.
Gunnarr snickered and Cass joined him. Nat looked at them anxiously as their laughter increased in volume. Then he looked back to the ogre, which had turned towards them and was now slowly making its way toward the unfamiliar noise.
“Guys,” Nat said nervously as the ogre lumbered toward them.
Gunnarr waved Cass off, still chuckling. She took a step out of their hiding place and began shouting.
“Oy! Ogre! Let’s see if you are smarter than a log,” she yelled as she took off at an angle that split the space between where Gunnarr and Nat lie and where the ogre stood.
The ogre’s eyes narrowed as it watched Cass run by. It then sprinted after her far more quickly than it had moved up until now. Cass, realizing she had its attention now, changed tack, slowing a little to allow the ogre to close on her. She made sure to come to a stop with a very large boulder between the ogre and herself, while making sure not to hesitate too close to the rock. Ogres were known to vault such obstacles if they had the will to do so, and this ogre looked particularly willful.
Gunnarr tapped Nat’s shoulder.
“Come on. Let’s not waste this opportunity.”
Nat followed Gunnarr out of their hiding place and they crept up on the ogre. The creature, concentrating on Cass intently, was sniffing the air curiously in the direction of the boulder Cass had disappeared behind. Nat mimicked Gunnarr’s movements, unsheathing his blade silently at the same time Gunnarr did. As they got closer to the beast, he couldn’t imagine how Gunnarr planned to get up to the soft spot on the beast’s back without something to climb up. Nat didn’t reckon the ogre would stand around and let them climb it and then aim properly.
By the time they stealthily closed to within ten feet of the creature, it was peering around the boulder. In that moment, Nat’s foot slipped on some loose pebbles, sending the stones skittering. Nat stopped dead in his tracks, silently cursing his own clumsiness. Gunnarr gripped Nat’s arm as the ogre turned swiftly towards them, pushing Nat to the ground as a tree trunk sized fist swiped through the air where Nat’s head had just been. The ogre moved with such incredible speed, and Gunnarr with a speed that matched, Nat barely had time to process what had happened before Gunnarr was pulling him to his feet.
“Run!” Gunnarr roared.
Nat took off with a speed he wouldn’t have thought possible before that moment. He could hear Gunnarr grunting for breath behind him. Each powerful stride the huge creature took shook the ground and rattled small pebbles into frenzied life.
“Left!” Gunnarr shouted.
Nat veered left toward a dead tree and ran around it, scrambling up the looser earth around the tree. Without looking, he knew the ogre was gaining. He found himself in a chasm in the mountain, walls of smooth stone on either side of him. As it opened up, he slowed down and turned back long enough to see Gunnarr a dozen paces behind him, the ogre twice that distance behind Gunnarr. The ogre was charging now, enraged and excited by the hunt, with all the considerable speed it could muster. Nat turned back around and concentrated on running, urging his legs to pump more quickly. Then, with horror, Nat saw that they had run in to a small blind ravine. Walls of rock loomed in front of him and on either side.
They were penned in, the ogre at the only exit Nat could see from the ravine. Nat slid to a stop and turned to face his doom with his mouth set in a grim, but determined, thin line, his sword in hand. He turned just in time to see Gunnarr swing his sword furiously at the ogre, screaming at the top of his lungs in a guttural, wordless roar. The ogre faltered for a moment, taken aback by the man’s sudden aggression—prey never turned and faced it. He stared at Gunnarr curiously, sniffing the air. He watched the sword dancing back and forth in Gunnarr’s hands. Then the ogre decided that, as it had thought, it was the superior creature here. It bared its thick, sharp teeth and bellowed a sound so deep that Nat could feel it as well as hear it. Then the ogre raised its fists high in the air and brought them crashing down to the ground. The stone underneath actually splintered, a fine spider web of cracks spreading out from the point of impact.
Gunnarr backed up to the wall next to Nat. Nat held his own sword aloft, determined to go down fighting. That’s when they saw a shadow flit across the disc of the sun over the creature’s left shoulder. Silent as a bird, the shadow descended to land on the Ogre’s back. It was Cass. She landed with all her weight and momentum behind her sword, burying it deeply into the beast’s back. Its eyes grew wide in surprise, and it let out a sputtering roar that transformed into a bloody cough. It stumbled as it tried to reach up and pluck Cass from its back, taking two, then three increasingly more erratic steps towards Nat and Gunnarr before its eyes finally glazed over and it fell forward onto the ground, which shuddered under the impact. Cass, who had managed to cling to her hilt and ride the beast all the way down, got unsteadily to her feet.
“You should’ve given me a few more seconds,” Gunnarr said sheathing his sword. “I was just about to unleash my Braldashadian fury.”
Cass, now yanking at her sword, trying to pull it free of the carcass, stopped to reply.
“If I had let you do all the work,” Cass said groaning as she tried yet again fruitlessly to yank her sword free, “then every time you told the tale you’d call it, ‘Gunnarr’s plan of action.’ I can’t be having you claiming my brilliant strategies for your own.”
Cass bent at the knees, grasped the hilt of her sword in both hands and strained with all her might to loose it. Gunnarr walked up to her and waited for her to strain, again ineffectually, at the blade. When she failed to budge it again, she stepped back, and waved Gunnarr over to it. He put one huge hand on the hilt of Cass’ sword and with a swift grunting yank, pulled it free. He handed the sword
to Cass, hilt first.
“I loosened that for you, I’ll have you know,” she said taking her sword and swirling it through the air to fling off most of the brown ogre blood that covered it. “It was almost out when you grabbed it from me.”
The corner of Gunnarr’s mouth lifted in a half smile as he picked Cass up by the waist and then leaned over to set her down on the ground next to the ogre. He jumped down and stood next to her.
“Now you’re just showing off for the recruit,” Cass said.
Nat walked over and looked down at the dead ogre.
“I’m sorry I messed up,” he said forlornly. “I almost got us all killed. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a warrior.”
They both turned toward him.
“Aw,” Cass said waving off the apology, “You did great considering it was your first ogre. Most people, well, anyone that’s not a warrior, they saw an ogre charging them? They just start wailing and crying, and probably do a bit of fouling themselves, too. You stood your ground. Trust me, that’s warrior through and through. And when I’m really, really drunk some time, ask me about the first job I had as a warrior. But I’ll have to be really drunk. That way I won’t have to remember reliving my shame in public the next morning.”
Nat’s expression brightened a little.
“Thanks.”
“What do you suppose would suffice as proof,” Gunnarr asked looking at the ogre.
Cass smiled widely.
“I’ll take care of that.”
Nat, Inez and Viola were gathered around a small table at the inn, three full mugs of ale sitting untouched in front of them. Callan and Viola’s were untouched because they were worrying about their friends, while Inez’s was there because she felt she had had more than enough ale for one meal.
“I don’t really understand why we have to do a quest. I mean, we just want to go through Coterman’s Pass. What’s the big deal?” Viola asked.
Callan, jerked out of dark thoughts that involved warrior bits and ogre teeth, looked at Viola.
“Oh, uh,” he stammered, “well, it’s kind of an old tradition based on how difficult getting through the pass used to be. I mean, we don’t have to do a quest. It’s not like it’s some sort of royal decree or anything. But… Okay,” he started over, flustered, “so it’s a hassle for the merchants of the city, that’s one thing. When you use Coterman’s Pass, it stops the Tam River.”
Viola looked stricken.
“Excuse me?” she asked trying not to look nervous.
“Oh, you’ve never done it before then. Okay, well, it requires an enchanter, and they just stop the river, and then you can cross it,” Callan said explaining.
Viola felt her heart beating rapidly.
“No one told me I had to stop a river. Certainly not one the size of the Tam,” Viola said.
“Don’t be a fool,” Inez said harshly, “no enchanter could do that. What’ll you’ll do is activate a hidden channel and divert the river in to it. The channel was built for just that purpose many, many years ago. You don’t stop the river.”
Inez scoffed at the idea as she continued, “as if any human could do such a thing. Coterman, you know, as in Coterman’s Pass, was an enchanter from long ago. He devised this contraption as a way to allow only those blessed by Bula to pass. This was long before Oshia’s time.”
“Bula?” Viola asked, “I’ve never heard of Bula. And you say Coterman was a he, not a she?”
“Yes. A he. I’m sure your village has never spoken of Bula for obvious reasons. Bula was the god of mysteries. He gave all who sought him out the gift of magic. Even men. Ever since the war between the old and new gods on the plains, men have lost that ability. I don’t suppose your village worships a new god of mysteries, some deity to explain your gifts?” Inez asked.
“No, we don’t, at least not in any ceremony I’m aware of. Our village elder says the god who gives us these gifts must remain in shadow, unpraised and never worshipped, for her powers are envied by all other gods,” Viola said. “So instead we just give thanks to the nameless god.”
Inez chuckled and shook her head.
“Well, be that as it may, at one time, Bula gave these gifts of magic. After the war, his temple was taken over by Oshia. The pass is really a convoluted way of redirecting the river underground. It runs beneath the surface for a mile or two, and then comes back up downstream to let the water rejoin the Tam’s natural course. It’s really quite simple to activate it. As long as you still have the gift when we get there, you just touch the idol, which, as it turns out, is still Bula’s idol, though few know that now,” Inez said.
“Oh. And this causes trouble for the merchants?” Viola asked Callan.
He nodded.
“A little. Though less so than it used to be. Before the road was built, the Tam River was the best way to transport things to the sea. Originally, the quest was really just a delaying tactic. You saw the king in the morning, he would send you on some minor errand to take up some time, that way you wouldn’t be ready to go through the pass until late afternoon. Most of the barges full of goods are well down the river by then anyway, so by the time the quest was done, the merchants weren’t really bothered by the whole thing. Oaten could have just asked us to wait until all the merchants had time to get down the river. But I suspect he’s just throwing his weight around, to prove a point to me.”
“That’s the only reason we’re asked to perform a quest?” Viola asked perplexed.
“Mostly, yes. There are some face saving reasons as well. Say you are a king, and you periodically have to allow this really inconvenient thing to happen. If you have a good reason, say, you tell your people in return for stopping the river for a while, we are rid of this nasty ogre who has been killing people, then it makes those people more amenable to the inconvenience. The king can say something good came out of it, so it’s a fair trade. But I’ve known both Oaten and his predecessor to let those who have his favor pass without any requests. And those who are given a task to perform aren’t generally given a quest quite this dangerous,” Callan said.
Viola looked out the window. The sun was beginning to drop from its high point in the sky now. The day was more than half over. She tapped her fingers nervously on the table.
“How long do you suppose they’ve been gone?” she asked.
“A few hours maybe,” Callan said. “How long do you reckon it takes to kill an ogre?”
“A few hours,” Inez said standing all of the sudden.
The door to the inn opened then and Cass, Gunnarr and Nat walked through, beaming. Cass was carrying a good size leather pouch at her hip. Callan breathed a relieved sigh once he saw they were all there and, so far as he could tell, unharmed. Viola couldn’t help herself and in her excitement she clapped a little and gave out a cheer.
“Was it very difficult then?” Callan asked, handing Gunnarr his untouched mug of ale.
Gunnarr downed it quickly and let the mug land heavily on the table as he wiped the froth from his lips.
“Not too terribly,” he said.
“I’m glad,” Callan said happily.
He looked at the pouch at Cass’ waist.
“Is that the proof we need to get permission then?”
“Yes. And we should set out. As much as I’d like to sit here and drink ale like the rest of you good-for-nothings, we’ll want to be along our way before dark,” Cass said. “As it is, we’ll still have at least another day’s travel ahead of us before we make it to the temple.”
Cass asked Pip and Ulma to make sure their mounts were saddled and brought to the castle so they could depart as soon as they’d seen the chancellor. Ulma gave Cass a rib-cracking hug that lifted Cass off her feet, and demanded she come back soon. The rest of the group said their goodbyes, thanking Ulma for her hospitality, and then made their way out into the streets. Cass set a brisk pace as they walked to the castle.
When they arrived, they found the chancellor was waiting in the antechamber. He seem
ed surprised to see them.
“You’ve finished already?” he asked skeptically.
“We have,” Cass said handing the leather pouch to the chancellor.
The steward eyed the pouch with interest. The king had not specified what form the proof should take. He opened the bag to look in and saw an unrecognizable mass of flesh, partly obscured by a pool of an unnatural viscous substance.
“Since you were so quick,” the steward said, wrinkling his nose at the foul odor emanating from the bag, “the king may want to see this himself, just to be sure.”
The steward cinched the sack closed and took it with him as he left the room.
Callan sighed.
“He’s going to say it’s fake or something. Send us out on another errand. I know this man, that is exactly the type of thing he’d do,” Callan said miserably.
“Oh, he can certainly try,” Cass said grinning.
Gunnarr, Nat and Cass shared a laugh. Callan looked at them, realizing they were sharing a secret joke.
“What is it?” he asked, wanting in on it.
“I don’t want to spoil the surprise for you, your highness,” Cass said.
Just then the steward came back into the ante chamber.
“The king will see you now,” he said ushering them into the throne room.
They filed in and made their way through the maze of art and trophies again, until they stood before the obnoxious throne in all its gilded glory. The king was holding a saucer sized piece of brown wrinkly flesh in his hand. A little tube of flesh dangled from one part of it. He was inspecting it closely with a monocle that was, of course, jewel encrusted and rimmed in gold.
“I don’t know that I can authenticate this,” he said haughtily.
Callan rolled his eyes as the warriors tried not to laugh.
“You’ve seen many ogres then, your majesty?” Cass asked, maintaining her straight face.