Good Ogre

by Platte F. Clark

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go blindly marching through a door when we don’t know what’s on the other side. I’ve played a lot of role-playing games and I’ve learned this lesson the hard way.”

  “Maybe the door can tell us?” Sydney offered.

  All eyes turned to the face in the door. “Certainly,” it replied, sounding thrilled to actually be talking with someone. “On the other side is a stone room with a gracon inside. And he doesn’t look particularly happy.”

  “A what?” Megan asked, her staff still glowing blue in her hands.

  “Oh no . . . ,” Dwight sighed, shaking his head. “No, no, no.”

  “Dude, I think a gracon must be like a boss character or something,” Dirk said to Max.

  “I don’t think you understand,” Puff answered, his words measured and careful. Despite his recent condition he’d been a powerful dragon once, and as such he knew much about the darker things in the three realms. “Take equal parts evil, power, death, and fury. Forge them together in the blackest depths of the Shadrus, and then add an ancient soul that yearns to destroy. Next give it liquid fire for blood and wrap it in flesh that rivals the strongest dwarven armor. And then, as if that weren’t enough, place two horns on its head—each sharp enough to slice through stone and steel as if they were paper.”

  “Or butter,” Dirk added, looking at Max.

  “Imagine all that,” Puff continued, ignoring Dirk, “and you’ll barely understand what a gracon is.”

  They sat in silence as Puff’s words hung over them.

  “So tougher than a gnome,” Dirk announced after thinking it over.

  “And you’re saying that’s what’s waiting for us on the other side of the door?” Megan asked.

  “Yep,” the door answered. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

  Max turned to Dwight. “So what do we do?”

  “We can do very little. You’re the only one with the power to face a gracon.” The dwarf hesitated. “I think.”

  Max opened the Codex of Infinite Knowability and began flipping through the pages looking for a spell. They simply had no alternative but to move forward—too much time had already passed.

  “Everything has a weakness,” Melvin offered, trying to help. “What would a gracon’s be?”

  “Not fire,” Megan replied, “if it has lava for blood.”

  “Ice, then,” Dirk suggested.

  Max remembered a number of cold and frost spells in the Codex. He flipped ahead until he found one: “Okay, here’s a first-level spell, Blunted Icicle Formation—”

  “Dude, skip to the big ones,” Dirk urged.

  Max grabbed a handful of pages and flipped ahead. “Well, there’s this one: Ice Age World Ender, level ninety.”

  “Too far.”

  Max nodded and started flipping back. “Okay, this one might work . . . Icening Bolt, level forty-four. Says it fires bolts of ice with the speed and power of lightning from the caster’s fingers.” Max looked down at his finger­tips and tried to imagine bolts of ice-based lightning shooting from them.

  “I take it you’ve never actually practiced this spell before?” Dwight asked.

  “It’s not like I can just go into my backyard and start throwing icening bolts around,” Max protested.

  Puff thought it over. “Maybe you should find a Prime Spell and cast that instead? We are talking about a gracon, after all.”

  “It’s not like when I was in the Magrus,” Max replied. “Casting a Prime Spell here . . . I can barely control it. And it takes everything I’ve got just to do that. So no matter how tough this gracon is, I’ve got to have enough left to deal with the Maelshadow.”

  Puff nodded. “I understand.”

  Max turned his attention to the spell. He read the words under his breath and felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he began to summon the magic. The Tower would train a wizard for years to be able to cast such a spell, and there was probably a certain way it was supposed to be done. But whatever Max lacked in knowledge he made up for with his connection to the Codex. Of course the ancient tome wasn’t usually so helpful, which only made Max more nervous about how bad things had actually gotten. He cleared his head of such thoughts and focused on the spell, feeling it move from the pages of the book to his arms and hands. He had to hold it back with some effort—the power of it was like a huge dog pulling at a leash. Max stepped forward as the others prepared themselves. “Open,” he commanded the door.

  “This is going to be exciting,” the face said as the slab of rock swung outward. With the spell bristling with energy, Max stepped through.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE MALASPIRE

  THEY HAD ASCENDED INTO THE sky on the back of Nightmare-Princess, rising into the churning storm of the Cataclysm while lightning flashed and thunder exploded around them. Wayne had removed Sarah’s sword and bound her wrists as the black beast lowered her twisted and malformed horn and warned: “Resist and I will burn you into memory.” If all of Sarah’s years of martial arts had taught her anything, it was that there was a time to stand firm and a time to yield—and now was the time to yield.

  The winds that buffeted them were no match for the black, leathery wings that had unfolded from the monster’s side. Sarah had glared at Wayne when he offered his hand to help her up. “Just do as they ask,” he’d said as he hoisted her to the monster’s back. She bit her lip and said nothing. The silence continued as she felt the powerful muscles driving the nightmare toward the Malaspire. An odd name, Sarah thought, but fitting. It had been formed from the bricks and stone that had once made up her school, but now they’d been torn apart and refashioned into a crooked tower that stretched much higher than any building in Madison ever had. On the roof the tornado continued its dance, and as they drew near, a pelting rain broke out around them. Sarah leaned forward on Nightmare-Princess’s back, turning her head against the sudden fury of the storm.

  They circled the top of the Malaspire, the lightning so close that static electricity filled the air. Sarah chanced a look at what was left of the town below. It was unrecognizable. Fires burned here and there, scattered between wooden huts with pitched roofs or crude stone fortifications. It was as if the world had suddenly lost five thousand years and reawakened in the Bronze Age.

  Nightmare-Princess pitched forward, and Sarah had to squeeze her legs or risk slipping off the beast’s wet back. She felt Wayne shift behind her, helping to prop her up. She didn’t want his help. She didn’t even want to be near him. They flew to a landing about midway up the tower, the otherworldly hooves of the nightmare shooting sparks from where they cut into the stone and slowed them to a stop. “Wait here,” Nightmare-Princess said, ordering them off her back. Sarah hurried and slipped off before Wayne had a chance to help. She found herself in a small room filled with whitish candles in twisted metal sconces along the walls.

  “Let the Maelshadow know we have her,” Nightmare-Princess said to Wayne as she turned and made her way back out to the landing. “I return to the hunt.” She leapt into the gray sky, more molten flame dripping from her hooves and smoke exploding from her nostrils. A flash of lightning caused Sarah and Wayne to turn their heads, and when they looked back the nightmare was gone. Sarah hurried over to the landing, confirming what she’d already suspected—it was too high to try to climb down.

  “Don’t do it,” Wayne cautioned. “There’s nowhere to go.”

  Sarah had had enough. “How could you?” she shouted. The sudden rebuke hit Wayne as hard as any blow, and he took a step backward. “He trusted you! You said you would protect him!”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” he simply said, his eyes lowered. “I’m not one of you.”

  “What do you mean you’re not one of us?”

  “He means he’s not human,” a squeaky voice said, joining the conversation. Sarah turned to see a pink-faced ma
caque monkey staring back at her from the far corner. In addition to a coat of fine gray fur, it wore star- and moon-filled robes with a matching pointed hat. It was an outfit she had seen before.

  “Magar . . . ?”

  “Indeed. Only I seem to be a primate,” the wizard sighed.

  “A macaque, I think,” Sarah said, remembering them from her textbooks. “If that helps, I mean.”

  “Not really.”

  Sarah turned her attention back to Wayne. “And what did you say about him not being human?”

  “Exactly that. Your friend is clearly an ogre—although his transformation is quite good.”

  Wayne shrugged. “Like I said, I’m not one of you. Ogres and humans are enemies.”

  “Are we?” Sarah asked, stepping away from the landing and moving to where Magar sat. “Then let me ask you this: What has Max or any of us humans ever done to you?”

  “It’s . . . complicated.”

  “Is it? Because it must be pretty serious since you’ve decided to destroy our entire world.”

  Wayne slowly pulled the amulet of alignment from under his chain mail. The stone had turned black. “It’s how someone like me becomes evil.”

  “Well, I guess congratulations are in order—you’re certainly that.”

  “Ogre society is based on being evil,” Magar added. “Every ogre youngling is given an exam upon graduating middle school.”

  “So let me guess,” Sarah continued. “You were the star pupil—you were the valedictorian of evil school.”

  “The opposite,” Wayne admitted. “I scored the very lowest. I was doomed to spend the rest of my life as an armor tester, except . . .” Wayne paused, remembering the strange events that took him from the career day festivities to the presence of the Maelshadow. The dark lord had found something important, but he couldn’t touch it because it was protected. So that was where Wayne came in. He’d had such little evil in him that even the deception would keep him “mostly good”—and so long as he was mostly good, he could bring the artifact to Max. Of course Wayne had to take on the form of a human to pull it off. The magic that made the transformation had been old and powerful, and had left him with memories he’d just as soon forget.

  “Except . . . ?” Sarah asked.

  “Except I was recruited to work for the Maelshadow because I was good. They needed that.”

  “I see,” Sarah continued. “So you were loyal to the one who used you, and then betrayed the one who accepted you. Sounds to me as if you got things backward.”

  “You still don’t understand,” Wayne protested. “It was the only way to become what everyone expected me to be!”

  Sarah watched him for a moment, feeling sorry for him despite the anger that still burned inside. “Then perhaps you should be true to yourself, and stop worrying about what everybody else wants.”

  Wayne stared at her coldly, then turned and walked to a large door with a heavy lock. He knocked and called out, “Open it—I have business with the Maelshadow.” Sarah heard the sounds of the door being unlocked before it was pulled open by unseen hands. Wayne paused in the doorway and spoke without looking back. “And my name is not Wayne. It’s Dwaine!” And with that he walked out and slammed the heavy door behind him.

  “So Wayne’s true ogre name is Dwaine?” Sarah asked. “I guess I was expecting something a little more dramatic.”

  Magar shrugged. “Ogres aren’t really known for their creativity. Here, give me your wrists.”

  Sarah took a seat on the floor and held her wrists out. Magar began working at the knots of cord, his small furry hands perfectly suited for the task. “I was quick enough to shield myself from much of the black mist,” he continued, as if answering Sarah’s unasked question. “Ultimately the storm changed me, but I kept my wits at least. Princess was not so lucky, as you’ve seen.” The wizard managed to get the first knot free and pulled a length of cord through, working on the next. “Magic is not always about raw power, you know. Had Princess been schooled as I had, she might have been able to resist the change.”

  “Max protected us,” she said. “Mostly.”

  Magar nodded. “That’s good. Then he lives?”

  “Yeah. And if I know him, he’s headed this way.”

  Magar finished the last of the knots as Sarah freed herself and rubbed the bruised skin. He glanced out at the gray skies and rolling storm beyond. “There is not much time,” he announced. “If Max can’t close the portal soon, this world will be lost—and I’ll be like this forever.”

  “I’ve seen Max do incredible things, but this is bigger than any of that.” Sarah sighed and turned back to Magar. “Thanks for getting me untied. Anything I can do for you?

  “Do you happen to have a banana?” Magar asked. “Seriously, I can’t stop thinking about them.”

  Max stepped through the door and prepared to unleash his spell. He was in a circular room filled with heavy stones and red bricks that used to be part of Parkside Middle School. The gracon stood facing him, bound by a long branch that twisted around its entire body. The creature was tied to a black pillar was flecked with small white dots and vibrated with a deep and ancient magic. The gracon lifted its head, its small red eyes locking with Max’s for the briefest of moments before it motioned to the far side of the room and groaned.

  Max turned, the spell beginning to slip from his grasp. He saw another gracon moving toward him, with the same hulking size and broad features, only this one was completely white. But not white, he realized—it was stone! Max turned his hands at the last moment and the spell leapt from him—dazzling blue streaks erupting from his fingertips, striking the stone gracon in the chest. The air snapped with the magical discharge as melon-sized chunks of rock exploded from the creature’s torso, sending it stumbling backward. The bound gracon, however, was now motioning in the other direction. Max turned to see a second stone gracon charging like the first. Before he could react he heard the thwunk of a bowstring. An arrow suddenly appeared in the shoulder of the beast, quickly followed by two more. The impact twisted the monster and sent it careening into a pile of rubble.

  Melvin jumped into the room, drawing more arrows from the quiver on his back. Dwight ran past, raising his axe and charging the second gracon. A fireball sizzled past Max’s head and struck the first stone gracon as it struggled to rise.

  “Moki, help the others!” Max called out. The fire kitten bounded through the doorway and began slinging fireball after fireball in the direction of the new target. Max turned to the Codex and began reading the Icening spell again, feeling the sensation of magic building in the air.

  The second gracon tried to continue its charge, but it was driven back by a second volley of arrows and fireballs. They found their mark in rapid succession, one after the other, until the stone monster had a half dozen burning arrows protruding from it. Dwight sprinted forward, diving as the gracon reached for him. He planted his axe in front of him and rolled over the weapon, bringing it up and across the leg of the monster in a single, fluid motion. The axe bit deeply into the stone with a spray of sparks that sent the beast spinning. Dwight skidded to a stop and swung his axe around, preparing for a second attack, when the sound of Dirk and his lute filled the room:

  So we’re battling some gracons;

  That seems pretty cool!

  Looks like Dwight just got one;

  Yeah, that dwarf’s no fool.

  Oh, and there’s another,

  And it’s not looking very nice;

  Let’s give old Max a boost now

  And power up his ice!

  Max had been faintly aware of his friend’s singing when the spell suddenly leapt from the Codex and exploded through him, exiting his hands with a force that sent him backward. He felt the Codex roll from his fingers as his other hand joined in on the icening storm. Instead of single shafts of icening, the air erupted
into a series of connected bolts, splitting again and again, until they enveloped the far side of the round room and slammed into the stone monster. The gracon, swallowed by ice and lightning, stumbled backward and then exploded. Max ducked as chunks of stone flew through the room. He chanced a glance at Dirk, who was watching, wide-eyed—his hand in mid-strum and his mouth hanging open.

  “That . . . was . . . AWESOME!” his best friend shouted.

  There was a loud crack as the second stone gracon’s leg gave way where Dwight had hit it. The creature spun around and dropped to its knees. The barrage of fireballs and arrows continued, finding their mark along the monster’s broad back until it looked like a giant flaming pincushion.

  Dwight rushed forward and made a quick end of the creature, sending the great horned head rolling from its stone shoulders and landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

  “That was no gracon!” Dwight exclaimed as he rejoined the others. Max retrieved the Codex and brushed himself off. They had done surprisingly well, all things considered. Megan insisted on looking everyone over, and once they’d passed her inspection, they turned their attention to the living gracon in the center of the room. The gracon let out a snort and watched Max with its small, crimson eyes. The creature was magnificent: at least four times the size of Max, with a spiderweb of molten lava crawling along its armored hide. It radiated with the kind of power that reminded Max of explorations within the Codex. But he could sense there was something wrong as well.

  “Why is it bound like that?” Megan asked.

  “Who cares?” Dwight said. “So long as it can’t move, it can’t get to us.”

  “It looks like it hurts,” Sydney said. She watched as the branches woven around the gracon’s body moved and constricted with a life of their own. At the sight of the bound creature Max felt a wave of pity. Nothing deserved to suffer like that, no matter what it had once been.

  “What kind of magic could do something like this?” he asked.

  “Shadrus magic,” Puff answered. The fluff dragon strode up to the gracon and considered it. “The magic of the Maelshadow.”