The Ogre's Pact зк-1

by Troy Denning

  The earl scowled at this suggestion. "I'll stay with Brianna, in case something unfortunate should happen."

  Brianna's bodyguard, who had spent the entire banquet standing at the wall behind the princess, stepped forward. "No need for that," he grunted. "That's why I'm here."

  Like Tavis, Morten was a firbolg-but the semblance ended there. With a stout frame and a height of twelve feet, the bodyguard was as large for their race as the scout was small. He had a broad nose with an orb-shaped end, brown eyes the size of gruel bowls, and a mane of red hair that would have put a glacier bear to shame. Though his face showed no emotion, his eyes were as alert as those of an eagle, and the huge sword hanging from his belt suggested that if something unfortunate happened. Earl Dobbin's help would not be required to protect the princess.

  Nevertheless. Tavis faced the cautious earl. "Do as you think best, Lord Dobbin." He tried to keep the spite out of his voice, trusting the princess would note the lord mayor's cowardice without his help. "I doubt there'll be trouble, and I'm sure you'll enjoy the elder, berry tarts the children have made."

  Tavis motioned for two of his orphans to fetch the desserts, then he and Runolf stepped out the door. The inn's courtyard lay between the dining hall and the barn, a fresh layer of straw strewn over the ground. The square was blocked at one end by the sleeping lodge and at the other by a log stockade. In the center of the enclosure stood a well and drinking trough for the animals. Avner was nowhere to be seen, but the youth had closed and barred the gate.

  "We're done waiting!" cried the guard's angry voice. "Open up, or we'll batter your gate down!"

  Tavis raised his brow at the threat, for it was no secret in the village that a fire giant was staying at the inn. "Be patient," he advised. "I'm on my way."

  "The scout started toward the gale, his eyes searching the ground for any sign of a struggle. He saw a few clumps of straw that had been kicked up when he had escorted Brianna into the inn that morning, but little else. The yellow blanket had not been disturbed since.

  Tavis slung his quiver over his shoulder, then pushed the crossbar out of its hooks. The beam had barely hit the ground before a dozen of the mayor's guards pushed the gates open and stormed into the courtyard. All were humans, wearing polished leather armor with the hawk's-head crest of Lord Mayor Dobbin. Half carried crossbows so large they could not be aimed without the aid of supporting crutches, and the others carried thick-shafted pikes. They arrayed themselves in a half circle around Tavis and Runolf.

  The group leader pointed his crossbow at Tavis. "Give me the thief," he ordered. "Hand over the verbeeg, or we'll tear this inn down!"

  "What verbeeg?" asked Runolf.

  The guard narrowed his eyes. "This time you've gone too far, Burdun! When you send your thieves to Dobbin Manor, even the princess can't save you!"

  "I have no thieves," Tavis responded. "Only children and our guests, one of whom happens to be a fire giant. No verbeegs."

  The guard spun away. "Search the grounds," he ordered, waving his crossbow around the courtyard. Take the buildings apart log by log!"

  Brianna's voice rang out from the inn, slopping the search before it started. "That's hardly necessary," she called. "Verbeegs are not mice. They do not hide in nooks and crannies."

  Tavis turned to see Brianna leading Morten and Earl Dobbin through the inn's massive doorway. The princess walked across the courtyard, her bodyguard and the earl a pace behind, and stopped at Tavis's side. She studied the lord mayor's men for a moment, then glared down at Earl Dobbin.

  "Why are your guards beleaguering poor Tavis again?"

  The lord mayor swallowed, then looked to the leader of his guards. "Stinson?"

  "A verbeeg broke into your manor," Stinson explained. "We chased the marauder to these grounds, and the gate closed right after he entered. Someone had to be waiting for him."

  Lady Brianna studied the ground near the gate. "Your men must be mistaken," she said. "I see no verbeeg tracks."

  Tavis frowned. She was right. There were no heel marks, no barren patches where the straw had been scraped away, no hint at all that a heavy fool had entered the courtyard. Yet it had been only a few hours since Morten walked through the gate. The bodyguard's tracks should still have been visible.

  Earl Dobbin studied Stinson, then asked, "How sure are you of what you say?"

  "I saw it with my own eyes," the guard replied. "We were less than a hundred paces down the lane."

  The lord mayor looked back to Brianna. "I must insist. This isn't the first time my men have followed a thief to this inn." The earl pointed at his guards, dividing them into groups of four. "You search the dining hall, you take the lodge. The rest of us will search the barn."

  "Lord Mayor, by the grace of my father's law you have the right to run your village as you wish." Brianna hissed. "But I promise you this: if your men break so much as a mug, you won't need to come to the ball this evening. You won't be the earl I pick as a husband."

  The lord mayor winced, for many considered him the most likely choice. Tavis did not share that opinion, and with good reason-or at least with what seemed good reason to him. During the last few months, the princess had spent more time at the Weary Giant than with all of her noble suitors combined-not all of it with the children. Of course, the scout realized that the earls would be flabbergasted if she named him as her future husband, but he still had high hopes. There were few things Brianna enjoyed more than outraging the royal court, and she had even kissed his cheek a time or two.

  After a moment, Earl Dobbin regained his composure and sneered in Tavis's direction. Still addressing Brianna, the lord mayor said, "I don't know why you would take the word of a commoner over that of a noble, but I'm about to prove that this firbolg is nothing but a knave."

  With that, the earl started for the barn's closed door. Brianna and Tavis walked at his side, while Morten remained a pace behind his mistress. The lord mayor's guards brought up the rear of the procession. As they approached the barn, the scout noted that the straw had not been disturbed since it was laid down. Yet, he had watched Lady Brianna lead her horse into the barn just that morning. At least a few of the yellow stems should have been bent or snapped.

  The lord mayor stopped before the door and motioned for his men to open it. As the guards obeyed, Tavis discreetly used his bow to scrape away some of the straw beneath his feet. The layer below was as yellow and fresh as the one on top, and a U-shaped depression marked where a horse's foot had crushed some stems. Someone-no doubt Avner-had spread a fresh covering of straw over this part of the courtyard.

  Once the door was open, the lord mayor's guards stormed inside while everyone else waited in the courtyard. A great cacophony of scraping and braying arose as they shoved mangers about and pulled startled mules from their stalls-this in spite of the fact that such areas were too small to hide a verbeeg. From the back of the building came a series of muffled thuds as two guards stomped up the loft ladder. Tavis cringed, fearing the shout of an angry verbeeg would shake the barn, but the only cries were the indignant screeches of an owl.

  Lady Brianna scowled at the clamor. "Earl Dobbin, you'd fatter hope they find your thief," she threatened. "Otherwise, I'll see to it that my father's men visit the same treatment on your hall."

  "And if I find my thief?" the lord mayor demanded. "Will you name me as your husband then?"

  "Then I will consider it," Brianna sneered.

  With that, the princess stepped into the barn. Tavis followed, Morten close on his heels. The air reeked of fresh manure and straw. The mules, most owned by villagers who lacked room to board the beasts themselves, bad gathered in the back corner, around a huge mound of straw someone had pushed down from the loft Two of the lord mayor's guards were busily pounding the stall floors with the butts of their weapons, apparently searching for secret doors that did not exist, while the other two cursed and grunted in the loft, using their spears to probe the enormous mass of hay and straw stored there.
/>   After surveying the scene, the lord mayor picked his way to the only stall that had not been opened. Above the gate the rear quarters of Lady Brianna's horse could be seen. The mare was black will, white flecks, and had a snowy tail as fine as silk. The earl studied the pen for a moment, apparently unsure whether to open it.

  "Don't do it. Earl." Tavis warned. "Blizzard is very particular about who touches her."

  The lord mayor studied Tavis for a moment, then a cunning smile crossed his lips. "What better way to cover the verbeeg's hiding place than to place a spirited horse over it?" He raised the latch and cautiously opened the gate.

  Morten started to utter a warning, but Brianna cut the firbolg short. "Be quiet," she hissed. "The fool was warned."

  The lord mayor stood aside for a moment, watching the horse carefully. Blizzard's tail stopped twitching, and she did not move, even to stamp a foot. Finally, the earl gave Tavis a confident sneer and slipped into the stall.

  Blizzard whinnied-once. When the intruder did not leave, she brought her hoof down on his foot and smashed her hindquarters into his chest. He screamed in pain and shoved her away, then backed, limping, out of the pen. The mare was not satisfied. She bucked her rump high into the air and kicked out with both rear feet. Her hooves caught him in the chest. The lord mayor's feet left the ground, and he sailed across the center passage, smashed into a stanchion post, and from there collapsed to the floor, his sable cape dangling in a manure gutter.

  "You see? Tavis does tell the truth," Brianna said. The princess, who was a skilled healer, kneeled at the groaning earl's side. After running her hands over his torso, she pulled him roughly to his feet. "Your ribs aren't broken, just bruised. You'll survive."

  "But I… can't… breathe!" the lord mayor gasped.

  "No wonder. You smell like a dung heap!" Brianna taunted. She shoved him into the hands of his two guards. "Take your master and wash him, so he can catch his wind."

  "What about the verbeeg?" asked a guard.

  "There is ho verbeeg," Brianna snapped. "Now perhaps you should do as I suggested."

  The earl glared at Brianna and shook his head. "Finish the search." he rasped.

  The guards resumed their havoc, though they were careful to probe the floor of Blizzard's stall only from the adjoining pens. It was not long before they shoved the mules aside to search the straw piled at the base of the loft ladder. Soon, one of them thrust his spear deep into the heap and withdrew a bloody tip.

  "Got something!" he chortled.

  The other guards pointed their weapons at the heap. "Come out, thief." ordered one.

  Something stirred, then a sharp hiss sounded from the pile, filling the barn with a foul, sulfurous stench. Crying out in disgust, the guards doubled over and began to throw up.

  In the next instant, a cacophony of braying and screeching filled the air. The mules bolted for the door, joined by a swarm of rats that had scurried from beneath the mangers and several owls that had dropped from the rafters. Morten stepped in front of Brianna, forcing the stampede to divide around her and consequently protecting Tavis, Runolf, and Earl Dobbin as well. Still, the lord mayor did not escape unscathed. The horrid smell caused him to retch, and the resultant heaving of his bruised ribs dropped him to his knees in pain.

  "Glacier skunk!" Tavis gasped, more perplexed than sickened by the rancid stench. Glacier skunks rarely left their mountain homes, and he had never heard of one actually entering a village.

  The others in the room were less curious than alarmed. Morten swept Brianna up in his arms and lumbered out the door with Runolf close on his heels. Next went the guards, doubled over, stumbling, and stinking like carcasses left in the sun to rot. They abandoned the lord mayor readily, for glacier skunks were to the smaller striped and spotted skunks what true giants were to giant-kin. When a glacier skunk's fumes hit a man, rivers of stinging tears poured from his eyes, hot embers filled his throat, and his stomach churned like a tumbling boulder. Sometimes he coughed blood, occasionally he stopped breathing, and, worst of all, the awful stench stayed with him until a cleric cast the proper spell to remove it.

  When it became apparent Earl Dobbin did not have the strength to rise, Tavis scooped him up in one arm and left the barn. After handing the man to the cowardly guards, the scout pulled an arrow from his quiver and turned toward the barn, prepared to kill the skunk if it chose this moment to come running out.

  The earl grasped Tavis's arm and pulled him back. "Don't think you've won, Burdun," he hissed. Tiny beads of sweat were running down the lord mayor's pained face, and he could take no more than a shallow breath. "You'll rue this day."

  Lady Brianna took the lord mayor's hand off Tavis's arm. "Why? At least he knows the difference between a glacier skunk and a verbeeg." She sneered at the earl, then added, "I'm certain this afternoon's events will make amusing conversation this evening-especially the part where Tavis carries you from the barn because your own guards left you to the skunk."

  The earl's face darkened to a stormy maroon. "Tell your tale if you wish," the lord mayor spat. "But be assured that if you continue to protect this cur and his thieves, it'll be my story that draws the last laugh."

  Earl Dobbin pulled free of his men and staggered out the gate. His guards loitered in the courtyard for a few moments, debating whether or not to continue the search. Finally, when their fellows returned from the timing hall and the lodge without finding any sign of the verbeeg, they decided to leave rather than search the barn again.

  Once the guards were gone, Lady Brianna turned to Tavis. "I've enjoyed your party tremendously."

  "I'm sorry for the interruption."

  Brianna grinned. "Don't be. It was most delightful to see Blizzard plant her hooves in the earl's ribs." she laughed. "But the time has come for me to leave. There's much I must do before the ball this evening."

  Tavis, his stomach knotting in anxiety, frowned at mention of the ball. "Princess, I've a question before you go."

  Brianna's expression changed to one of concern. "Yes?"

  "Your father didn't invite me to the ball."

  "He didn't invite any commoners," the princess said.

  Tavis nodded. "I understand, but I'd like to know who you'll choose this evening."

  Brianna's gaze fell to the ground, and with it Tavis's heart Tonight, the princess had no intention of outraging her father's court.

  "Whomever I choose, it will be for the good of the kingdom," the princess said, taking his hand. "I hope you'll support me in that decision."

  "I'll always support you." Tavis replied, trying to hide his disappointment and failing. "But I doubt an unhappy princess will be good for the kingdom."

  Tears welled in Brianna's eyes. "Damn you," she said. A sad smile crossed her lips, and she wiped her cheeks. "I was hoping you'd make this easy."

  "I can't do that-yet," Tavis said. The princess's watery eyes gave him hope, for the scout saw in her tears what Brianna had not actually said: that no matter what name she spoke tonight, the one in her heart would be Tavis. "But it's a long time between betrothal and marriage. A lot can happen."

  "What are you going to do?" Brianna demanded. "Have yourself reborn as an earl?"

  "If that's what it takes, yes," the firbolg replied, smiling. "But until then, the best I can do is kill that glacier skunk so you can retrieve Blizzard."

  The scout turned to ask his mentor's help in luring the beast into the open, but Runolf was nowhere in sight The sergeant had left without a word, vanishing from the courtyard as suddenly as he could disappear in the wilderness. It wasn't like Runolf to leave so rudely, but Tavis took no offense. The sergeant may have sensed something alarming as Karl Dobbin left, and decided to follow, not bothering to excuse himself because he did not want to draw attention to his departure.

  Tavis glanced back to Brianna. "Give me a moment before coming for Blizzard." he said. "It wouldn't do to have you sprayed today."

  The scout took a deep breath and went into the barn. The ai
r remained close with foul-smelling vapors, but the stench had already begun to lose its potency. Blizzard was neighing angrily in her stall, whipping her head from side to side in an attempt to snap her reins free. Tavis advanced cautiously, watching rafters and mangers as well as the straw piled beneath the loft ladder. A glacier skunk, if that was truly what had hidden itself in his barn, was a cunning predator. It could down a bull elk-or a careless firbolg-as easily as a mountain lion could.

  As Tavis approached to within ten paces of the ladder, something stirred beneath the straw pile. The scout pulled his bowstring back, then patiently waited for his prey to show itself before he loosed the shaft. A smaller hunter might have fired earlier, fearing that one arrow would not stop a vicious glacier skunk, but a single shaft fined from Bear Driller would stop a charging moose.

  A pair of steely gray eyes peered from beneath the straw. "Is the earl gone?" whispered a familiar voice.

  Tavis lowered his bow. "Avner!"

  The boy crawled from the pile and brushed the straw off his body. Behind him came a wolf-sized skunk with white fur and a pair of black stripes running down its back. It had a cone-shaped head with round ears, a shiny black nose, and four curved fangs drooping beneath its lip. The beast's claws were as long as a bear's and as sharp as a lynx's, while a needlelike barb protruded from the end of its furry tail. A red smear marked where its flank had been pierced by a guard's spear.

  "What's happening here?" Tavis demanded.

  Avner looked away. "You always say it's important to help others." He focused his gaze on the skunk. "Basil needed help."

  As the youth spoke, the skunk sat down. Before Tavis's astonished eyes, it began to enlarge. The beast's fur thinned into a curly mass of hair, while its bushy tail disappeared altogether. Its hind legs straightened out and became more manlike. The forelegs grew longer and more slender, the claws retracting to become fingers and the dewclaw spreading outward to become a thumb. Finally, the creature's fangs receded, the snout narrowed into a long, crooked nose, and Tavis found himself looking at the hairy, naked form of a verbeeg.