"I have no idea what manner of creature this is," said Sarion.
"Maybe it is one of the beasts that prowled in the vale last night." Forlern examined the torso of the creature. "Look, deep puncture wounds in the side. Crusted blood. Can't be very old, the vultures have not feasted yet."
"Hmm. It would appear that it met up with our quarry, and formidable as it looks, was no match for the strength of the ogre. Few creatures are." Grundel fingered the hilt of his weapon.
"I think you're right. All the signs show the passing of the ogre, and of a struggle as well. See, broken branches over there, in the bushes. Confused prints. There may have been more of these beasts here also." Sarion pointed at several spots on the ground, and the others nodded.
The captain whistled sharply. "We should make haste. I fear that once in the Lowlands, our chance of overtaking the brute are slim." Grundel agreed with Sarion's remark, and the company left the dead creature behind.
It was becoming evident that Grammore was near. Mist rose from small bogs that now appeared, and the air wafted lazily by, bringing with it the unpleasant stench of old and decaying vegetation. The ground was softening, but not wet. They followed the ogre's trail, and Sarion was confident that it was not far off.
"It could very well be nursing fresh wounds." Chertron's voice drifted up to the two leaders who were intent on the footprints, clearly left in the dirt.
"That might make it even more dangerous. An injured beast is always the most deadly and unpredictable. And desperate." Grundel looked warily ahead, but his companions were silent.
As the company rode on, clumps of trees became thicker, and Sarion mentioned to the captain that the men should avoid speaking unless absolutely necessary. He felt a chill of warning crawl along his spine. Here once more, he thought... After all these years. Black memories reared up in the back of his mind, sinister and powerful. Faces and names. Emotions.
Anguish.
Dispelling the bleak thoughts, Sarion continued. "From higher up, the lowlands are fairly distinct. But along the border, there are numerous copses that protrude from the main forest. We will have to decide as to where we stay for the night. At the edge, or within the Lowlands themselves."
They passed through an overgrown area of tall grasses and directly in front of them appeared a swampy lake, the waters fading away into a deepening mist. Cattails and reeds lined the banks, and unseen bullfrogs croaked eerily in the distance, along with unfamiliar insects. Grundel reined in his horse sharply, holding a gloved hand up for silence.
"Maybe we won't have to," he whispered.
He pointed to the water. A rocky outcropping jutted out into the lake, partially obscured by high weeds. Boulders lay scattered about, offering a natural barrier against the grass itself. Stretched out on the rocks was a huge figure.
They had found the ogre.
***
Grundel motioned everyone to back away, and the horses were restless. The air was blowing behind them, the ogre's scent not having reached the sensitive noses of the war horses. Chertron dismounted, flattening in the concealing grass to keep watch. Grundel took no chances, and led the warriors a good distance before calling a halt.
"Over hill, and through treacherous woods, many miles. We have caught up with our prey once more. This time there will be no stalemate."
A humorless smile etched the captain's face, and Sarion read the hurt and anger inside -- along with the determination. The loss of the warriors ran deeply through his veins.
"I will tell you now the rest of my orders -- our mission."
Sarion's eyes darkened, surprised by the captain's statement. The warriors watched their leader with unquestioning eyes, the only exception being Rundin, who took guard after they'd stopped.
"It's not only for revenge that we have pursued this beast, although it deserves retribution for the loss of our companions. No one here would question that fact."
His gaze never wavered, fixing on Sarion's attentive face.
"King Gregor suspects a growing evil in the west, and many incidents have validated his fears. The marauders, signs of prowling creatures...and I believe the discovery of the Killworm was no accident. Something has stirred up the denizens of Grammore, and I was sent to locate the source, even if it means penetrating into the Lowlands themselves. There is a reason that the ogre cannot be permitted to escape."
None of the men showed any hint of doubt. They were loyal to Trencit, and Captain Grundel, to a man.
"It's my belief that the creature is under the power of some other, and is headed there now. If our presence is detected, then we may be faced with enemies too strong for us to overcome. Indeed, if there is a single force behind the unrest, it will seek us out immediately before we return to our homeland. We must not fail."
Sarion stepped forward a pace. "Has the King expressed any opinion as to what is stirring Grammore from slumber? Perhaps the Devlents are responsible?"
Grundel hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.
"No, that is not his belief. He feels it is unrelated, but nevertheless, the consequences could be devastating. The Western Guard has been steadily depleted, with no more warriors replacing the ones called away. This makes our position extremely important to the King."
"And what is your plan for the ogre?" All heads turned towards Forlern, who fidgeted with one of his daggers.
Grundel folded his arms, gesturing for them to move nearer.
"We have it enclosed, and couldn't ask for a more perfect location to assail it. Now is our chance. And this is what we shall do."
***
The ogre lay still, as yet unaware of the encircling company of men, who were quietly plotting its end. Both Grundel and Sarion agreed that once the ogre awoke, events would become chaotic. There was no margin for error against such an adversary.
Several of the warriors set torch to the scrub brush that served as a barrier against the pond's edge. All the men were on foot, as Grundel was unwilling to risk the element of surprise from a skittish horse. Chertron and a few of the others knelt a short pace behind the burning thickets, arrows notched with flaming tips. Sarion, Grundel, Forlern, and Rundin stood with swords ready to hold back the ogre if it tried to break through. Sarion wondered if they would be enough, though. The creature had proved incredibly fierce in their earlier pitched battle.
Despite the general dampness of the area, the bushes were soon smoldering, the fire catching. The captain carried with him some kindling oil, and combined with a collection of well-placed deadwood, succeeded to enhance the blaze. All eyes watched as the flames spread, and the ogre roused from sleep. It was confused, and sprang up onto the rock pile, glaring at the strengthening fire, the orange flames licking the tops of the bushes. The slitted pupils fixed on the motionless forms of the warriors, recognition crossing its surprised face.
Bellowing in rage, the ogre picked up its huge club and lumbered forward, realizing the trap which had been set.
Grundel gave a shout and the bows sang, shafts of fire arcing through the darkening air. The smoke proved more of an asset to the warriors as the wind drifted gray curls straight at the enemy, but the archers found their mark. Several of the shafts plunged into the tough flesh of the creature, the pointed tips still burning.
"Again!" Grundel screamed to his men as the ogre ignored the pain and neared the flaming brush, intent on going forward. Arrows rained down on the hulking form, and now it hesitated, one of the shafts driving into its massive neck. It howled in fury and pain, pulling the shaft out. The warriors fired volley after volley and the ogre retreated, unable to breach the wall of fire or arrows.
"We have him! He's trapped!" Forlern stamped his feet, sword slashing empty air, anticipating a swipe at the creature.
The fighters moved as close to the fire as possible, the smoke making it hard to see. The ogre had retreated to its former resting place, swinging the club in defiance. Sarion said nothing throughout the interchange, as he tried to foresee what ac
tion the ogre might take. And then, to the surprise of all, it suddenly jumped onto the highest rocks, grabbing the great war horn with one ham-fist.
"Shoot the horn!" Sarion yelled to the others, going for his own bow.
Chertron was the first to see the danger, and let fly a perfect shot which embedded itself in the ogre's horn, knocking it straight into the waters below. The creature seemed stunned at the loss of the horn, still clenching a cruel hand, now empty. Loud coughs broke out around the fire, and some of the men moved back, the vapors stinging their vision.
"Look, Captain. It attempts to escape." Rundin ran over to Grundel, and they all watched as the ogre crouched over the water's edge, a drop of several yards. It suddenly jumped down, a loud splash shattering the serene surface, and disappeared. The visibility was poor, and the captain shouted for someone to bring the horses forward, scattering the warriors to either side of the lake. Sarion sprang past the clumps of strewn rocks and fallen logs on his side, shocked that the ogre would attempt to swim the dark waters. Several minutes of confusion ensued as the warriors brought the mounts up, a few of them unwilling to go close to the blaze.
Sarion peered out at the murky waters, eyes straining for any sign of their quarry. The waters were flat, nothing broke the surface. High reeds and other moisture-thirsty plants clustered along the edge, but further out was only a listless void, mist shrouding the deeper areas, reducing sight to only a few dozen yards. On this side at least, the ogre was nowhere to be seen.
Rundin and Forlern rode up, bringing Sarion's mount with them.
"Any sign of the beast?" Rundin's shaggy face was streaked with grime and sweat, and Forlern scanned the shoreline.
"No, it should have surfaced by now. I didn't think the ogre could swim out past our sight."
"Maybe it sank to the bottom," replied Rundin.
"I'm not certain," Sarion replied. "We need to patrol the edge without putting too much distance between us. What of the others?"
"Captain Grundel rode around to the other side with three men, leaving the rest at the blaze. He told me ride back in ten minutes if we failed to find the creature."
"Let's go a bit further, but from here it's impossible to judge the size of the lake. The fire might alert any nearby creatures as to our presence as well. Let's keep our eyes open and wits clear."
A look of concern covered Rundin's face. They all remembered the other hazards of the region. He nodded, and they continued onward. The trio paced along the shore, avoiding soft, treacherous pits which marred the ground. Sarion rode with his head downward, finding no trace of the creature. After a short while, he realized that the ogre could not have swam such a great distance already, and he became increasingly worried that Grundel might have found it, with only a handful of men to fight the beast. They turned around and bolted towards their earlier position, the scent of smoke heavy in the air.
Upon returning, they found the three warriors who remained on guard, none of them having seen any sign of the ogre. Sarion relayed his fears and the company all set out in search of Grundel and the others. They rode scarcely a hundred yards when Sarion spied horsemen approaching.
"Hail, Captain! Did you find the beast?" Rundin shouted ahead as the two groups reunited.
"Nothing...I take it your result is the same as well?"
Sarion answered, leaning forward on his mount. "Aye. So there are but two possibilities. The ogre might have sank to the depths of the lake."
He paused, looking out at the swirling fog.
Grundel finished his line of thought. "Or, the beast defies our expectations, and is making its way to the far shore even now."
"Either way, we've lost it." Sarion frowned, the prospect of a night beneath the eaves of Grammore now an unpleasant reality.
***
The company skirted the lake's edge, Grundel making the decision to continue searching the side where Sarion had met up with him. It was evident that any tracks would be missed, as nightfall arrived and the mist deepened. The ground was soft along the edges, and the lake proved to be much larger than they'd originally thought, dotted with numerous small coves, and a few streams trickling into the sluggish waters. Insects buzzed throughout the region, and black water herons glided lazily above the surface, disturbed by the intruders. Their sense of direction was muddled, and Sarion didn't trust the increasingly soft earth.
"Captain, it seems that the lake is breaking down here, and even now starts to develop into treacherous swampland. The risks are great. I think we should call a halt."
Sarion waited as Grundel stared ahead, contemplating the wisest choice. He held up his arm and the men behind understood the signal to make camp.
"The land doesn't offer much in the way of protection. We'll stay near the water's edge -- at least there is some measure of security here." The captain dismounted and cocked his head to one side, hearing a distant sound.
"Yes, the night predators are awakening." Sarion patted his horse, feeling weary from the day's events. "Probably wolves, and similar prowlers. We won't have to worry much about them. It's the strange noises, or the creatures that are silent, which concern me."
Kalen stood nearby, a look of discomfort crossing his face. "Like that beast we found earlier?"
"Yes, and others. I can't offer much knowledge on the things that dwell in Grammore -- as I said before, we didn't go too far into the deeper forest. But it becomes a vast and terrible jungle. The air has become much warmer already, the terrain wetter. I can only guess that the diversity of life will increase the further we travel."
Kalen nodded.
Warriors milled about, settling in for the night, with two men instantly on guard. There was a tenseness reflected in the eyes and movements of the fighters as they felt the wilderness rising from slumber about them. They were within the borders of a dangerous no-man's land, a country that brought fear to the brave and rekindled nightmares to children and adults alike.
Sarion slumped down next to a bank of loose dirt, reading the subtle change in the warriors. Except for himself, the men all were from the east, an area much more populated and currently embroiled in a fierce conflict with an enemy which had sworn to conquer Trencit. But they were trained to fight human enemies, and now found themselves battling creatures which were known only in old tales and legends. Against the ogre they'd displayed remarkable courage, and Sarion trusted their collective abilities without question. But what did fate have in store for them next?
With lingering doubts swirling in his mind, he drifted off into restless sleep.
***
Sarion awakened, Rundin's grim face greeting him as he held a torch in one hand. A long hunting knife instantly appeared in Sarion's grip, quickly put back in its sheath.
"A fighter's habit is hard to break." Sarion felt a twinge of doubt as lines of worry creased the warrior's bearded face. "What is it?"
Rundin held up a long finger, pointing out at the misty depths of the water. Both the men stared into the murkiness, Sarion listening intently, searching for an indication of whatever had caught Rundin's notice.
"I heard something, moving in the bog. A light splashing, several minutes ago. Then again, right before I wakened you." He spoke in a whisper and Sarion crouched forward, facing the impenetrable haze moving sluggishly above the stagnant waters.
"Areck watches yonder -- against that twisted stump."
"Only two? Another should be guarding until we leave this cursed region behind," Sarion murmured. "I'll stay up, but no more talking." Rundin nodded, creeping forward to his earlier position at the front of the sleeping men.
Sarion picked his way to a suitable spot where he found a fallen tree covered with damp moss, and there he sat. His senses keyed outwards, he failed to detect anything unusual in the shrouded night, the fog hanging heavily above the putrid water. The region teemed with life. Insects buzzed angrily over the swampland, and the sound of bullfrogs echoed forlornly through the musty air, the lowlands a warmer climate than what they
'd left behind. From what he'd read, the larger part of Grammore stretched southwest of Trencit, and the Ridge Line protected the Lowlands from cooler weather, acting as a natural buffer against the northern winter. Waiting there in silence, his mind wandered back to the farm, and his young nephew.
Edward was tough, and responsible. He'd learned how cruel the world could be after losing his father and mother to the Glefins. A marauding party had attacked the little settlement they lived on, pillaging the homes, and brutally killing all who they found. A hidden trapdoor was all that had saved the boy from his parents' tragic fate. When Sarion slew the Glefin leader himself, no one would have rebuked the man for savoring in sweet revenge. But that was not Sarion's purpose, or nature, and he'd felt nothing but emptiness after the act, focusing only on returning home, knowing that his people were safe from the threat of the Glefins and their malice. A pang of sorrow seared his chest, setting off old, painful memories, and a bleakness in his heart which could never be entirely healed.
The sound of quiet splashing erased the trail of Sarion's recollection, and he chided himself for drifting off. Second chances were not to be found in Grammore. Raising himself, he looked out into the water, then over to where Rundin stood as he leaned against a thick, barkless tree, one with gaping roots snaking out greedily towards the bog. The warrior had also heard the sound, gesturing in the direction of the noise.
Sarion was suddenly struck by the solitude of their surroundings.
A deathly silence fell across the dismal fen, the amphibians and insects strangely hushed. The air felt tense, triggering inner alarms inside Sarion's mind. He moved towards the sleeping figure of Grundel, but the captain's eyes were already sharp and alert, staring into the night.
Ogre's Passing Page 7