by Griffith, KF
The radio squawked again. “Come in Guard Four.”
Elganbok picked up the radio and spoke into it. “This is Guard Four, Guard Three . . . I, uh . . . I need . . . a . . . a potty break?” He looked at Baerwald like he was asking for help. “I gotta pee. Just thought you’d be interested . . . in case you tried to contact me.” He looked back up at Baerwald, raised his eyebrows, grimaced, and shrugged his shoulders.
“We’d better get out of here,” said Baerwald.
“Uh, guys,” I said, “you’re gonna want to get out of there as fast as you can. Every guard in the building is heading your way.” I flipped quickly from camera view to camera view on my monitors, there were guards heading towards the trophy gallery from every direction.
“We could head down and go out through the sewers,” said Elganbok. “They won’t be expecting us to head down to the basement.”
Baerwald’s camera moved from side to side as he shook his head. “We’d have to get past the security office. Going up is still our best bet. Are there any guards on the back stairs?” he asked.
I switched the third monitor to the back stairs. “There are no guards on the back stairs. But they’re almost to the trophy gallery.”
“Are any of them going to come through the courtyard?” he asked.
I checked the cameras. “No. They’re all heading your way around the courtyard.”
“Good,” he said. “They’re assuming that whoever we are, we wouldn’t have entered through the courtyard.”
“They underestimate us,” said Elganbok. “I’m insulted.”
Baerwald’s camera bobbed rapidly as he and Elganbok raced past the display cases and towards the courtyard.
Chapter 15: Escape
I watched the guards swarming around like ants on my monitor screens. I switched from one camera view to another, and on every screen there were guards. There were a lot more guards in the building than we thought. They were scrambling around frantically, racing in and out of rooms and hallways.
“You guys better hustle,” I said into my radio. “They’re searching everywhere. It won’t take them long to check the courtyard.”
I watched as Baerwald’s camera jolted up and down as he clambered up the rope to the roof. Every once in a while he’d glance behind himself to make sure Elganbok was keeping up. “Almost there,” he huffed into his radio.
Through his camera I could now see the ledge and the night sky beyond it. I saw hands reach down to pull him up.
And then I could see him from my rooftop station as he was up and over and onto the rooftop.
On the security camera to the courtyard, I could see guards burst through the door and look around the empty courtyard frantically. And then they looked up.
From where I sat, I saw Baerwald reach back and jerk up the rest of the rope that hung over the edge with one quick snap. Elganbok flew up over Baerwald and the other ogres on his team and landed on the roof with a thump.
Elganbok stood up and dusted himself off.
They did it! They got the trophy with the magic wish, and they got out. I’d be going home soon!
They all turned to look in my direction and gave me the thumbs up. Baerwald held up the trophy and smiled.
Their expressions changed suddenly. They went from happy to panicky in a flash. They started waving their arms wildly, like they were trying to warn me about something.
Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind and pulled a black sack over my head. I struggled to get loose but their grip was so strong I couldn’t move.
I heard the switch to my radio click, and someone said, “It looks like we’ve caught the youngest member of your team. If you would be kind enough to wait right where you are, we’ll have a few B.O.R.I.A.L. agents join you in a moment.”
Chapter 16: Slimewater Dungeons
It was a lot colder in the dungeons than I thought it would be. I knew it was going to be stone walls and iron bars; every dungeon has stone walls and iron bars. What surprised me was how dark it was and how cold it was. There was no heat at all, and if it hadn’t been for the torches on the walls in the hallways outside of the cells, it would’ve been completely dark.
We were each in separate cells, but we could see each other by the torchlight if we moved to the iron bars at the front of our cells.
I could see Baerwald and Elganbok from my cell, and I could hear everyone else. The whole group of us that tried to steal the trophy was stuck deep down in this terrible place.
“Does anybody else have a nest of grats living in their cell with them?” asked Elganbok.
“What’s a grat?” I asked.
“It’s like a slugmouse only bigger and hairier,” said Baerwald.
“And meaner,” said Elganbok. “I had to fight ‘em to keep ‘em away from my breakfast, and now they’re eyeballin’ me. I can see their squinty little grat eyes shinin’ in the dark.”
“Do they taste good?” one of the other ogres asked from down the cell block. “I’m starving.”
“That’s disgusting,” I said. “How long are they going to keep us here?”
“Until they sentence us,” said Baerwald.
“And then it’s off to the work ships,” said Elganbok. He didn’t sound happy about that.
“What’s a work ship?”
“Most of the time they’re ships that haul garbage out to sea and dump it,” said Baerwald. “It’s a really awful job. You’re trapped on the barge day and night, there’s no way to get away from the smell. Or the grats”
“I hear summertime is the worst,” said one of the other ogres. “The heat cooks the trash, and the grats get . . . .”
“Not all of ‘em are garbage barges, though,” said Elganbok. “If you’re lucky, you might end up on a fishing trawler.”
“You know, they might go easier on you because you’re just a kid,” said Baerwald.
“I’ve never even been on a boat before,” I said. I was having a hard enough time dealing with the fact that I was never going to get home again, knowing that I was going to spend the rest of my life trapped on a stinking garbage barge was unbearable. It looked like things were going from bad to worse.
“On the bright side,” said Elganbok, “sometimes the crews on the barges will mutiny and turn to piracy! Now that would be the life!”
“Being a pirate,” said one of the other ogres, “that doesn’t sound half bad.”
There was a round of agreement from throughout the cell block. Apparently being a pirate was almost as good as being a thief if you were an ogre.
I have to admit that it didn’t sound very appealing to me, given the current circumstance. “What happens if you’re a pirate and they catch you?” I asked.
“Off with yer head!” shouted another one of the ogres. They all laughed. I didn’t.
“Quiet! Somebody’s comin’!” said one of the ogres at the far end of the hall.
I could hear the rattle of the jailer’s keys. He was talking to someone, so it was obvious he wasn’t alone.
“Here we are,” the jailer said in his gruff voice. “Slimewater’s finest criminals.” He chuckled as he ushered his guests out of the shadows and into the torch light.
It was Brunda! And she had Grelda and Slipknock from B.O.R.I.A.L. Headquarters with her.
“I have half a mind to leave all of you sorry excuses for thieves in here,” Brunda said. She put her hands on her hips. “Can’t even pull off a simple heist. I’m ashamed to have the name of the Flamin’ Goat associated with the lot of you. You’re supposed to be the best thieves of your generation. Bailin’ you out of jail is not gonna help your reputation . . . or mine.”
“We think somebody must’ve ratted us out to the Trophy Hall guards,” said Baerwald. “The heist should’ve gone off without a hitch. Nothing like this has ever happened to us before.”
“Yeah, we’ve never been caught,” said Elganbok.
“We got caught because we had the kid with us, right?” asked an ogre.
“He was the reason we were trying to steal the trophy, you moron,” said Elganbok. “Why would he turn himself in? So he could sit here in a cell like the rest of us?”
“Oh,” said the second ogre, “hadn’t thought about that.”
“And what are those B.O.R.I.A.L. agents doing here?” asked the first ogre. “Are they here to sentence us?”
Brunda stepped forward. “The B.O.R.I.A.L. agents had some business with the Dungeon Warden. And . . . they need to speak with Grady Burr.” She gave me a look that I couldn’t read.
She moved in front of my cell. “As for you, Grady Burr, if you hadn’t gone lookin’ for answers at B.O.R.I.A.L. Headquarters and found these two,” she pointed her thumb over her shoulder at Grelda and Slipknock, “we’d never have found out that the trophy you knuckleheads stole was a fake.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe it. “A fake?” Things had definitely gone from bad to worse. It was beginning to look like I was never going to get to go home.
“That’s right,” she said. “You boys are in jail for stealing a fake trophy.” She struggled to contain her glee.
“You’re not kidding, are you?” asked Baerwald.
“Nope,” she said.
“You’re not gonna tell anybody about this, are you?” said Elganbok.
“No,” said Grelda. “We can’t let anyone know about this.”
Slipknock chimed in, “It has always been our practice to replace the winner’s trophy with a . . . substitute. One that’s identical in every way, except for the magic.”
“We fully expected someone to try to steal one sooner or later, and we’ve been prepared for years,” said Grelda.
“But you’re the first ones that have ever tried it,” said Slipknock. “Congratulations.” He smiled.
Brunda stepped in. “The conditions of your release are very clear. You must never tell anyone that B.O.R.I.A.L. switches the real trophy cups with fake ones.”
“That is correct,” said Grelda.
“So we’re being released?” I asked.
“Yes, you are,” said Brunda. “And this whole thing will be erased from your criminal records.”
The ogres all cheered.
I felt like I was just told that I’d been pardoned from death row, or at least pardoned from spending the rest of my life as an ogre trapped on a garbage barge. Things were looking up.
The jailer unlocked our cells, and we filed out.
“Grady Burr,” Brunda said as we walked down the long hallway, “these two have some interesting news for you.” Grelda and Slipknock came closer.
“It’s about your test,” said Grelda. She sounded serious.
“What is it?”
“We checked it and rechecked it,” she said.
“And then we double rechecked it,” said Slipknock.
“And?” I said. This did not sound good.
“Well, we can tell you’re an ogre,” said Grelda, “but we can’t tell how old you are.”
“The test we ran reveals what the object being tested is,” said Slipknock, “if it has an element of magic to it, and how old it is. In other words, if we tested the trophy that you and your friends have stolen, we’d find out that it was a metal object made up of equal parts grintium and dwarf gold, that it had absolutely no magical properties, and that it was less than one year old.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your test results showed that you were an ogre . . . with a sprinkling of magical residue still hanging about you . . . and that you were of indeterminate age,” said Grelda.
“Indeterminate age?” I said. “What exactly does that mean?”
“It means that we can’t determine how old you are,” said Grelda. “We can’t even speculate,” added Slipknock.
“We’re sorry we couldn’t be more help,” said Grelda.
“At least you found out that there’s been magic involved,” said Brunda. “That’s something.”
“Yeah, but what does that prove?” I asked.
“Granted, it doesn’t prove your claim that you’re not an ogre,” said Grelda,” but it does prove that you’ve been involved with magic recently. The only place that I can think of that we’d realistically expect to see the same level of magic residue would be from an ogre that had recently played in an ogreball match.”
“That’s correct. The proximity to all of the flogiston powered equipment in an ogreball match would most likely leave a similar amount of magic residue that we found on you on a player that had recently played in a match” said Slipknock. “Maybe for as long as a week or more.”
“So you’re saying that I’ve recently played in an ogreball match?” I asked. “You’d think I’d remember that.”
“We’re not saying that’s exactly what happened, but it was probably something similar,” said Grelda.
“Or it could be something that we’ve never encountered before,” said Slipknock.
“Exactly,” said Grelda. “Which is why we’d like to do some more tests.”
“You mean back at B.O.R.I.A.L. HQ?” I said.
“We thought it might be easier to bring some of the equipment to the Flaming Goat,” said Grelda. “If you wouldn’t mind, Brunda.”
“Of course not,” said Brunda. “If it’ll help Grady Burr solve his mystery, then I’m happy to help.”
“What about the . . . uh . . . clientele?” asked Elganbok.
“If you mean the suspicious nature of Brunda’s customers,” said Grelda. “then you have nothing to fear. What we’re doing is . . . .” she mumbled as she struggled to find the words.
“What she’s trying to say is that we’re already operating outside of B.O.R.I.A.L. protocol,” said Slipknock. “We’re not looking for trouble. We just want to solve the mystery involving our friend here.”
“That’s right,” said Grelda. “Besides, do you know how much paperwork it would require if we reported any suspicious activity?”
“As long as Grady Burr is comfortable with it, the Goat sounds like the perfect place for you to do your tests,” said Brunda. “What do you say, Grady Burr?”
“Sure, why not? Hopefully, it’ll help me find some answers. But what about the Flaming Goat, Brunda? What are you going to do now that we won’t be able to get the money you were counting on from the stolen trophy? ”
“Don’t you worry about that,” she said with a smile. “I have a plan!”
“She always has a plan,” said Baerwald.
Chapter 17: A New Plan
The next day, Brunda called a big meeting at the Flaming Goat. We were all there, even Grelda and Slipknock from B.O.R.I.A.L. headquarters. They weren’t wearing their official robes, so the other ogres didn’t seem quite as wary of them as they would have been otherwise.
The place was packed, standing room only. Brunda was pacing back and forth on top of a large table set against one of the walls at the side of the room. The crowd was murmuring quietly waiting for her to begin.
She stopped and turned to face the crowd.
“We have nine days left,” she said. “And then, the Flaming Goat will be gone forever.” The ogres booed and jeered. Brunda held up her hands to quiet them.
“You might have heard that our plan to steal the trophy from the Ogreball Hall didn’t go quite as planned.”
“Got caught didya, Bearwald and Elganbok?” shouted one of the ogres. The crowd laughed, but not in a mean way.
“It appears that someone tipped off the authorities about our plans,” said Brunda. “When we find out who did it . . .” she paused and looked around the room while she scowled, “they will be dealt with.”
“Oooooooooh!” they all said.
“In the meantime, we need to come up with enough money to save the Goat,” Brunda said.
“Whattaya gonna do?” asked a wobbly looking ogre near the front of the crowd.
“We’re goin’ back to
our original plan,” she said.
“You’re gonna sponsor a team?” someone shouted.
“That’s right,” said Brunda.
The crowd erupted in a giant cheer. The ogres were jumping around and dancing with each other. They were pretty excited.
“So, who wants to be on my team?” Brunda shouted.
Dead silence. Every ogre in the room stopped instantly and stood perfectly still with their eyes on Brunda.
“You know we’ll help,” said Baerwald.
“Yeah, count us in,’ said Elganbok.
“I’d play if I could,” I said, “but unless the age restrictions have changed, I won’t be able to. Sometimes I hate being a kid.”
Brunda stomped her foot on the table and shouted, “I can’t believe you ogres! Here’s a kid who’s never even played the game before, and he’s brave enough to step up and fight. If he was allowed to play, he’d probably . . . .”
“Wait just a second,” said Slipknock. “I believe you’re mistaken.”
“Don’t stop me now,” Brunda said. “I’m just gettin’ started!” She looked furious. “These ogres need to hear loud and clear what I think of them standin’ there like a bunch of squeamish little . . . .”
“I’m not trying to argue with you about them,” said Slipknock. “I meant that Grady Burr is mistaken about not being allowed to play ogreball.”
“What do you mean?” said Brunda. She’d gotten herself into a red-hot temper, so she looked like she wanted to smack him for interrupting her.
“I see where you’re goin’ with this!” said Elganbok.
“Technically, Grady Burr couldn’t be prevented from playing,” said Slipknock.
“What do you mean?” said one of the ogres in the crowd. “He’s a kid. Look at him!”
“But he’s not,” said Grelda. “We tested him at B.O.R.I.A.L. headquarters, and the test couldn’t determine how old he is. It certainly didn’t indicate that he was a child.”
“So, technically, he can’t be prevented from playing in an adult ogreball match,” said Slipknock. He pulled a huge green book out of his satchel, put it on a nearby table, flipped it open. “You all recognize the Official Rulebook of the Monstralium Ogreball Association? This is from Section II, Article 408, Paragraph 2: Before any match play begins for any game sanctioned by the Monstralium Ogreballl Association, it will be determined that none of the players participating is a child.”