The Ogre's Pact

by Troy Denning

  Avner pulled his dagger from inside his tunic, calling, “Tavis, your back!”

  The youth hurled his dagger. As the blade sliced through the air, Tavis spun around. He saw two ogres stepping around the bend, less than twenty paces away. Both were drawing their bowstrings back to fire.

  Avner’s dagger soared past Tavis’s head and sailed straight at an ogre’s throat. Normally, such a small blade would not fell an ogre, but the boy’s aim was so true the knife took the creature right in the gullet, burying itself to the hilt. The brute released his arrow prematurely and collapsed, a surprised squawk gurgling from his mouth.

  Tavis aimed at the second ogre, releasing his arrow as the brute released his. The scout did not wait to see his shaft strike. As soon he felt his bowstring scrape free of his fingers, he rolled to one side, crashing through the lifeless limbs beneath the fallen tree. The ogre’s arrow clattered into the dry boughs and skipped away.

  Pulling another arrow from his quiver, Tavis crawled out of the tangle of branches. He looked up and glimpsed his attacker’s form standing in the same place he had been a moment earlier. The scout nocked his arrow and fired—not realizing until the shaft was in flight that he had already killed his target. The brute was pinned to a tree, the fletching of Tavis’s first arrow protruding from the center of his chest. The second shaft split the first, driving through the ogre’s body in the same hole.

  The hum of ogre bows sounded from down the ravine, then Basil and Avner came diving over the toppled pine. Tavis spun around and saw a flurry of black shafts flying in their direction. Looking past the immediate danger, he spied a dozen loutish beaters scurrying up the ravine. Tavis allowed the ogre arrows to fall harmlessly to the ground, then nocked an arrow.

  The ogres stopped running and dived for cover. Knowing it would take a moment before the beaters could fire, the scout spun around to face the ambushers. He glimpsed three more silhouettes slipping behind tree trunks.

  “Up there!” Tavis gestured toward the side gully.

  Basil and Avner sprinted into the gulch. Tavis followed more slowly, pointing his arrow first uphill, then downhill. The ogres made no move to prevent the escape and did not even show themselves. There could only be one reason for the lack of pursuit, Tavis realized. The brutes no longer saw any reason to risk their lives, which meant they believed they had herded their quarry into a trap.

  Confident the ogres would not pursue him into the narrow confines of the side gulch, Tavis paused to look around. This gully was a small one, lined on both sides by sheer cliffs of black-streaked gneiss. Like the ravine from which he and his companions had just come, it was filled with towering pines, though the trees here looked less healthy. They were overcrowded, and the small area prevented them from extending their branches fully. Avner and Basil were still sprinting up the center of the gulch, heedless that it was an ideal place for an ambush.

  Not wishing to call out and let the ogres know he had anticipated their trap, Tavis fired his arrow up the gulch. The shaft hissed past Basil’s shoulder and lodged in a tree, bringing both the verbeeg and Avner to a halt. They turned around and peered at the scout, their mouths gaping open.

  Tavis motioned for them to remain where they were, then put his bow over his shoulder. Next, he took his dagger and opened a lengthy but shallow cut along his forearm. Once the wound began to bleed profusely, he walked up the gulch, dripping blood on the ground as he went.

  When the scout reached his companions, Avner looked at him as if he were crazy. “What are you doing?”

  “Making it easy for the ogres to follow us,” Tavis replied. “After they find this blood trail, they won’t pay as much attention to other signs. That’ll give us a chance to escape.”

  “We haven’t done that yet?” Basil asked.

  “No, we’ve been forced into a trap,” Tavis replied. “Somewhere around a corner ahead, a couple dozen ogres are waiting to shower us with arrows.”

  The scout allowed his companions to consider this while he studied the surrounding terrain. He spied a series of three boulders close enough together that Avner could leap from one to the other, then said, “Now, here’s what I want you to do.”

  After Tavis had explained his plan, Basil asked, “Do we have time for all that?”

  The scout nodded. “The ogres won’t be anxious to come after us. They’ve suffered losses enough to know they won’t get past Bear Driller in these confines,” he said. “By the time they come to see why we haven’t wandered into their ambush, we’ll be gone.”

  The scout started up the gully. Making certain to drip plenty of blood along the ground, he led his companions to within a pace of the first boulder. Instead of jumping onto the stone at this point, Avner and Basil walked past, following Tavis another twenty paces. The boy stopped there, but the verbeeg continued up the gully.

  Thirty paces later, Basil also stopped. He slowly backed down the gully, placing his feet in exactly the same places as he had on the way up. When he reached Avner, he hoisted the boy onto his shoulder and continued his retreat to the three boulders Tavis had pointed out earlier. After Avner brushed his feet off, the verbeeg deposited the youth on the first boulder. The boy hopped across the three boulders, then climbed a tree and crawled across a branch onto the cliff top.

  For Basil, escaping the gorge was more difficult. Like Avner, he brushed the loose soil off his feet, then crossed the boulders to the side of the gully. Unfortunately, he was too heavy for the pine’s thin branches and too clumsy to climb straight up the cliff face, so he had to backtrack a short distance to where a dead tree had fallen against the cliff side. He ascended the gray trunk, then joined Avner.

  As his companions made their escape, Tavis picked up a stick, then ripped a strip of cloth off his tunic. These two items he used to make a tourniquet around his arm. Once that was done, he continued up the gulch, slowly turning the stick so that the blood trail gradually diminished. When he came to a jumble of boulders, he crossed the pile about halfway, then tightened the tourniquet until the blood ceased to drip altogether. After cleaning the bottom of his boots to make certain he did not leave any loose soil to divulge his change of path, he moved toward the side of the gorge, being careful not dislodge any of the stones he walked across.

  The scout crept along the base of the cliff until he came to a sickly tree growing too close to the wall. He braced one foot against its trunk and one against the rocky face, then slowly climbed out of the gorge. By the time he reached the top, his tourniquet had loosened and blood was dripping into the canyon, but he did not worry. It would be quite some time before the ogres realized he had laid a false trail, and it would take them even longer to discover how he and his friends had escaped.

  Tavis removed the tourniquet and applied a more proper bandage, then scurried down the ridge to join his friends. Together the trio started to traverse the ravine’s north side, climbing toward Needle Peak, but the scout quickly realized they could not remain concealed by taking this route. The valley took a sharp turn southward. They could not travel any farther without exposing themselves.

  Tavis motioned for his companions to wait. Hunching over until his chest almost touched his knees, he crept down the hillside. He stepped carefully, avoiding dry-looking twigs, loose rocks, even clumps of dry pine needles that might crackle under his weight. It had been many months since he had moved so slowly in such an awkward position, and his muscles soon began to ache from the strain. The scout ignored his discomfort, knowing that if he relaxed and did something that made a substantial noise, the ogres would hear it.

  A few minutes later, he came to a place where the hill fell away sharply, giving him a clear view of the ravine below. He was directly above the bend where the side gulch opened into the main gully. He knelt behind a pair of close-growing saplings, using the dense foliage as a screen, and began to search for ogres.

  Tavis saw one warrior immediately, lying facedown on the uphill side of a decomposing log. It took him a little lon
ger to find the others. Although they had not selected their hiding places to camouflage themselves from someone in Tavis’s location, the brutes were sitting so motionless that, in their gray cloaks, many of them looked like stumps and boulders.

  Even after he had found five warriors, Tavis continued to study the ravine. The ogres’ stillness puzzled him. By now the brutes were certainly curious about the silence in the side gulch. They should have been cautiously venturing into the small gully to investigate. Yet here they were, still lurking in ambush, as though the beaters were driving more prey toward them.

  After a moment’s consideration, Tavis realized why. They had set their trap again—this time for Morten and the earls.

  The scout studied the valley below, then decided he had found all the ambushers. He pulled four arrows from his quiver, planting them tip-first into the ground, and nocked a fifth. Normally, he would have set out six shafts for five targets, just in case he missed once, but two of the ogres were standing in line, and he always took advantage of any chance to save arrows.

  Tavis peered through the small gap between the saplings he had selected as cover, then took careful aim at a lobeless ear protruding above a small boulder. It was his most difficult target, for not only was it on the other side of the ravine, it was all he could see of the ogre.

  Drawing his bowstring back, Tavis exhaled. He stared at the ear, blocking every thought from his mind until he was aware of nothing but his target, then he pulled his fingers away. The string throbbed and sent the arrow sizzling through the air. The shaft skimmed over the rock and struck home with a muffled thud, then both ear and arrow disappeared from sight.

  In one swift motion, Tavis pulled the next arrow from the ground, nocked it, and fired at his easiest target, the ogre lying behind the decomposing log. The shaft caught the brute just as he was raising his head, ripping through the back to pierce the warrior’s heart.

  The scout’s next arrow was in the air before the warrior died, catching the third ogre through the head as he rose from behind a juniper bush to gape at the arrow in his companion’s back. The fourth and fifth stepped away from their trees, spinning around to search the hillside. Despite the obvious panic in their purple eyes, the brutes remained silent, determined not to alarm the prey their companions would soon be driving up the ravine. That suited Tavis fine. He drew his bowstring back, waited until the ogre in back stepped behind his companion, and loosed the shaft.

  Tavis nocked the last arrow he had set out, but there was no need. The shaft passed cleanly through the first ogre’s throat, then ripped into the breast of the one behind. This warrior did not die instantly, but with an arrow lodged in his lung, his feeble gurgles would not alarm the beaters driving Morten and the earls up the ravine.

  The scout paused just long enough to make certain there were no more ogres lurking below, then returned to his companions and told them what had happened.

  “So now we’re free to leave?” Basil asked.

  Tavis shook his head. “No, Morten and the earls are still coming up the ravine,” he said. “If we go now, the ogres may drive them into the ambush yet.”

  “And if we don’t, whoever survives the battle will definitely attack us,” Avner objected. “I say we leave our enemies to each other and go while we can.”

  “Morten and the earls aren’t our true enemies,” Tavis replied. “They’re only doing what they believe to be right. We can’t condemn them for that.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Avner grumbled. “They condemned us for a lot less.”

  “We aren’t leaving them to the ogres!” Tavis snapped. “Do you understand that?”

  Avner met the firbolg’s gaze with an angry glare. “I understand.”

  “Good,” Tavis said. “Go down to the ravine and hide until Morten comes.”

  “Then what?” the youth asked. “Surrender?”

  “Make sure he sees you, then lead him away from the side gulch and up the valley,” Tavis instructed. “Basil and I will set up an ambush of our own. We’ll pull you aside, then I’m sure Basil can do something to temporarily disable Morten and the earls.” The scout cast a hopeful glance at the verbeeg.

  “I can put them to sleep for a lengthy time,” Basil said.

  “Good,” Tavis replied. “We’ll treat the ogres less charitably.”

  “What? You’re not going to spare everyone who’s trying to kill us?”

  Tavis scowled his reply.

  Pulling a sling from inside his tunic, Avner reluctantly started down the hill.

  Tavis shook his head in disappointment. “As much as I love that boy, I don’t think he’ll ever learn.”

  “He’s learned much already, but his teacher was cruel indifference,” said Basil. “If it’s any consolation, I do believe he loves you more than he loves his own life.”

  “Perhaps,” the scout acknowledged. “But I doubt you could say the same about his love of gold.”

  With that, the scout started across the hillside, angling toward an outcropping of rocks a short distance up the ravine.

  Basil followed a step behind. “Now that we’re alone, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”

  “Can’t it wait?” Tavis asked. “This lull in the fighting won’t last long.”

  Basil shook his head. “I don’t want to discuss it in front of the boy. Besides, it won’t take long,” he said quietly. “How much do you know about the Twilight Vale?”

  “I never heard of it until Runolf spoke its name.”

  “That’s not surprising,” Basil answered. “True giants consider it a sacred place. They keep it secret from all but their own kind.”

  “Then how do you and the ogres know of it?”

  “I read about it in a tablet I borrowed from the stone giants,” Basil explained. “As for the ogres, they clearly have their own ways. But the reason I raised the subject is what happens in the vale.”

  “What?”

  “The true giants gather there once each year. The chieftains resolve their grievances in peace, the warriors drink from magical springs, and the shamans receive guiding omens from the vale’s guardian, the Twilight Spirit,” Basil explained. The verbeeg looked away, obviously uncomfortable, then continued, “And they conduct ceremonies of tribal union.”

  “Union?” Tavis asked.

  “Matings between important members of different tribes,” the verbeeg explained. “To guarantee good relations.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Tavis had to restrain himself to keep his voice low. “Brianna would never mate with an ogre!”

  Basil ran a hand over his sloped brow. “Her consent wouldn’t be necessary, nor did I say it was an ogre she’s going to mate,” the verbeeg replied. He was looking more uncomfortable by the moment. “The Twilight Spirit arranges these unions for the good of all giants. Goboka might be taking her there to see a chief from any tribe.”

  “A human and a giant?” Tavis scoffed.

  “It’s no more ridiculous than a cloud giant and hill giant, and I’ve read of such unions,” Basil replied. “The spirit’s magic is most powerful.”

  Tavis considered this for a moment, then shook his head. “It still makes no sense,” he said. “Ogres aren’t true giants, they’re giant-kin, like you and me. Why should Goboka care what the Twilight Spirit wants?”

  “Goboka is extremely powerful for an ogre shaman, both in magic and political power,” the verbeeg explained. “Who do you suppose helped him get that way?”

  “The Twilight Spirit,” Tavis concluded. “And in return, the spirit received a small and stealthy ally to send after Brianna.”

  Basil nodded. “There are some tasks giants just can’t do—at least not if you want them done quietly.”

  Tavis sighed, frustrated. “That still doesn’t explain why the Twilight Spirit wants Brianna.”

  Basil scowled in thought. “We already know Goboka foresaw Brianna’s birth far in advance. That’s why the Twilight Spirit sent the ogres to d
upe Camden,” the verbeeg said. “Maybe he also saw something that did not bode well for his giants.”

  The scout nodded. “And Brianna is the key to protecting them,” he said. “The question is, what from?”

  Basil shrugged. “My magic isn’t that powerful,” he said. “If you really want to know the future, you’ll have to find the Twilight Spirit and ask him.”

  “I’d rather find Brianna and avoid the Twilight Spirit,” Tavis said. “But first, we have some ogres to ambush.”

  With that, the scout lengthened his stride and did not say another word until they reached the cliff where he intended to ambush the ogres. Basil took out a brush and set to work on his sleeping rune, while Tavis climbed up the hill to keep watch.

  When the runecaster finished his symbol, there was still no sign of their quarry, so he climbed up the hill to join Tavis. They waited for several more minutes, and the scout began to fear something terrible had gone wrong with his plan. Then he finally saw Avner coming up the ravine and began to breathe easier. Tavis nodded to Basil, and they both ducked down behind a boulder to wait.

  The scout soon realized Morten and his band were not coming. Avner showed no particular concern as he ran through the forest, never looking back to check on the progress of his pursuers. Nor did Tavis detect the sound of any cracking sticks or clanging armor, both of which he would have heard in abundance if the clumsy earls had been rushing up the ravine. He tossed a rock down to catch Avner’s attention, then rose and showed himself.

  Making no more noise than a good scout would have, the boy climbed the hill to join Tavis. “Morten wouldn’t follow me,” he reported. “I did everything but sling a rock at him, and he just ignored me.”

  Tavis was puzzled by the report. Even if Morten suspected a trap, he would have followed the boy long enough to see where he was going.

  “Are you sure they saw you?” the scout asked.

  Avner nodded. “I was in a tree,” he said. “I shook the branch I was sitting on, and he looked right up into my eyes. I jumped down to be sure he knew it was me and not an ogre, then I started running. He never followed.”