In the Company of Ogres

by Martinez A. Lee

  “You could always hide him again,” suggested the raven.

  “I could. But this is where Ned belongs. It is time to see what he is made of, to hope that he is ready.”

  The Red Woman continued on her way to the citadel, which by now was on full alert. She had more potent magics at her disposal than old, enchanted cloaks. No one spotted her.

  “Do you think Ned will be ready?” asked the raven as they walked through the front gate unmolested by guards.

  A frigid wind swept across the fortress.

  “No, I don’t suppose he will be.”

  Phantom darkness fell over the citadel like the shadow of an unseen colossus, and a hard rain poured from a cloudless, starless sky.

  Eleven

  WHILE OGRE COMPANY RAN about in poor discipline, the Red Woman slipped into Ned’s room. She walked in those moments between moments, those bridges between now and then, and none noticed her passing. Ned was the sole occupant of his room by that time. Miriam and Regina were off aiding in the search efforts. The sorceress stood at the foot of the bed and studied the corpse.

  “What are you waiting for?” said the raven. “Just raise him so we can get out of here before someone spots us.”

  The Red Woman chuckled. She could be gone in an instant. Nor did she have anything to fear should she allow herself to be seen. She only sneaked about because it had been her habit for so long she’d lost patience for dealing with the living. But she’d tarried long enough. She walked to the head of the bed, and waved her hands over Ned. The corpse’s bloat shrank. The burn on his chest faded to a less noticeable shade, not quite visible except under the proper light, but as he always carried a memento of his deaths, it would remain. After she’d lovingly tucked his tongue back in his mouth, Ned appeared to be merely dozing. His wounds were such that one could usually only be certain he was alive by his breathing. He wasn’t breathing yet.

  She paused. It was truly a shame he couldn’t remain dead, forever frozen in this peaceful slumber. But death wasn’t for Ned.

  The raven flew to the headboard. “Just do it already.”

  She smacked Ned across the forehead. He jumped to life with a yelp. Returning from the dead was as normal as waking up, and there was a sense neither of wonder nor disorientation. Only disappointment, and even this emotion was slight.

  “How long was I gone?” he asked the Red Woman. Her resurrections weren’t always prompt. Once he’d been deceased for three months before she’d gotten around to raising him.

  But the Red Woman wasn’t there. She’d crept away in another of those “between” moments. This surprised him. She’d always been the first person he’d seen. Not that she ever told him anything useful, nor explained herself. But she’d never just run off before without sharing a few words. Ned didn’t care, but the distinct impression she was avoiding him did cross his mind. Never one to take a lucky break for granted, he took advantage of this moment to lie on his bed and relax. Right now, the Red Woman was gone, and no one else in the citadel knew he was alive. For at least a little while, he could enjoy the quiet.

  It didn’t last very long. It never did.

  The door opened. For a split second, he entertained the notion of sticking out his tongue, closing his eye, and pretending he was still deceased until whoever entered had gone away. He wasn’t quick enough.

  Miriam’s large black eyes opened wider. “Oh. You’re back.”

  He stared at the ceiling. “I’m back.”

  “Are you feeling better, sir?”

  He didn’t reply. That was a complicated question.

  There was an awkward silence then. Ned was too involved in his own thoughts to notice as Miriam frowned and fidgeted a bit, tracing small circles on the floor with her left foot while, arms crossed, drumming the webbed fingers of her right hand on her left forearm. Had he any practice reading siren body language, he would’ve also noticed the fins atop her head flatten bashfully, and the tiny nervous gills just below her ears gulping down air. She tried to stop that. Outside of water, it’d only give her gas.

  “It’s good to have you back, sir. I ... we missed you.”

  He raised his head and squinted quizzically. “Really?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He lay back and considered this. Currently he was too self-absorbed to understand the implications. Romantically speaking, Ned was rather dense. He’d never done well with women. His accumulation of scars and disfigurements hadn’t helped. It wasn’t a question of self-esteem. It was simply a question of experience, of expecting the world to behave in certain ways. That Miriam might find him desirable was as likely as the end table wanting to be his best friend. It just didn’t make sense to him, and like anyone confronted with the unbelievable, he had two choices. He could make that leap of faith and believe. Or he could just not notice.

  He chose the latter, although “choice” might imply the slightest conscious effort on his part.

  Miriam moved closer but still remained a few paces from the bed. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

  “No, I’m fine.” He pursed his lips and blew out a long breath. “Thanks anyway.”

  For her part, Miriam was well aware of how she felt. She liked Ned and had absolutely no way of telling him. All she need do was sing a little song, and he could be hers. Ned had already succumbed once to her allure. He would easily do so again. Women had been seducing men since the dawn of time by employing their wits and natural charms, and singing enchanted melodies was as natural to a siren as breathing. Would it have been so wrong to employ a little musical charm at this moment?

  Yes, she decided. Miriam had never seduced a man against his will, and she wouldn’t start now. But more important than the moral question was the notion that singing would be a cheat. If she was going to have anything truly worthwhile with Ned, it couldn’t start with guile or manipulation or base mesmerism.

  But she had no idea how else to get started. Admitting defeat for the moment, though she hadn’t given up yet, she saluted crisply and turned on her heel to leave.

  “One second.” He pushed himself up on his elbows. “I am a little hungry. Could you get me something to eat?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Of course, sir.”

  “And a drink wouldn’t hurt either.”

  “Anything else?”

  He sat up. “Can you not tell anyone I’m alive yet? I’d really appreciate it.”

  “No one? Not even the officers?”

  “Especially not the officers.”

  “As you wish, sir. I’ll be right back.” She left the room, but on the other side of the door, a few visitors confronted her. Several soldiers filled the hall. The corridor was barely wide enough for two ogres side by side, and all she saw was a pair of them before her, though she heard others behind them. Ace, all two feet of him, slipped between the ogres’ legs.

  “They’re here to see the commander.”

  “They can’t,” she said. “He’s dead.”

  “That’s what I told them,” said Ace, “but they want to make sure he’s not faking it.”

  “Faking it?” asked Miriam.

  The soldiers murmured among themselves. Ogre voices were deep and not made for murmuring, so it was quite a racket.

  “They think it’s all a hoax,” said Ace. “They think the Legion cooked up this whole Never Dead Ned business as a public relations fabrication.”

  “But he’s already risen from the dead once,” said Miriam.

  “That’s what I told ’em.” Then he shouted at the soldiers. “I told you idiots he was dead! Saw him with my own eyes! There never was a man as dead as that! Ask Frank or Ralph or Ward. Lewis and Martin. They’ll all swear to it.”

  The ogres continued to murmur skeptically.

  “Most of you saw him too!” shouted the goblin.

  “Only from a distance,” said one of the front ogres. “Could’ve been a dummy filled with straw for all we know.”

  “Or some other guy!” said a raspy-voic
ed troll somewhere in the back. “All those humans look alike!”

  “We do pretty much look the same,” said a human soldier peering from behind an ogre’s elbow.

  “Almost exactly!” agreed another human, who just happened to be the first’s twin brother. “Sometimes our mothers can’t even tell us apart.”

  Miriam stood resolute. “I’m afraid the commander is not available for public viewing.”

  Ace stood beside her. More accurately, he stood in front of her, barely above her knee. “You heard the lady. Scram.”

  The soldiers murmured louder still. One of the leading ogres put a massive hand on Miriam’s shoulder. “We’d really like it if you’d please step aside, ma’am.” It was not a request.

  She hummed almost inaudibly, and the gathered crowd stepped back.

  “Now that’s not fair.” The ogre moved to clamp his hand over her mouth, but she’d already started singing. Siren songs weren’t foolproof, and an audience developed resistance with each exposure. But ogres, for some reason, were especially susceptible, and since they didn’t hear it often, the effects were nearly instantaneous.

  Sirens were most famous for their beguiling melodies, but their enchanted songbook was chock-full of other useful tunes. There were songs to call down rain, songs to shake the earth, songs to shatter walls, and songs to encourage a seedling to grow into a mighty oak in a day, songs to open locked doors, and songs to summon spirits, and songs to cast them out. Miriam wasn’t particularly adept. By siren standards, she was a little tone deaf. And while she’d never been good at seducing rivers to change their course or charming dragons, she did have a great talent for the most dreaded of siren tunes, the Dirge of Revulsion.

  The dirge bubbled up from her diaphragm, boiled out of her lungs, steamed through her throat to burn on her audience’s ears. The soldiers, tears in their eyes, dashed away in a scramble. Some resisted more than others, but in the end most succumbed before a dozen notes had escaped her lips. Only the goblins, curiously resistant to mesmerism of any sort, remained.

  Miriam stopped singing and rubbed her throat. The dirge was hard on her voice, and she spoke with a rasp.

  “Get out of here.”

  Without their ogre backup, the goblins reluctantly departed.

  Ace said, “Nice trick.”

  “It gets the job done.” She cleared her throat. “Can you do me a favor and watch the door until I get back?” She wasn’t very worried about anyone besides goblins sneaking inside. The power of the dirge would cover this spot for a few hours, keeping most away.

  “Sure.” Ace sat and lit his pipe. “Make it snappy though. I’ve got a flight in twenty minutes.”

  Miriam went off to the pub to get Ned’s meal, and it wasn’t six minutes later that Regina approached his quarters.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Smoking.” He offered her his pipe. “Want a puff?”

  “Step aside.”

  “Are you authorized?”

  She scowled. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not supposed to let anyone in.”

  “You little beast, I outrank you.”

  “This isn’t about me. It’s about orders. Since I don’t really know whose orders I’m following, I can’t as a good soldier just allow you to pass.” Ace puffed deeply on his pipe. The putrid yellow smoke slithered its way along the wall to gather at the ceiling. “Unless you happen to know the password.”

  “What password?”

  “I don’t know it.”

  “Then how will you know what it is?”

  Ace removed his goggles and inspected them for specks, mostly for something to do. “Way I figure it, if you were authorized and you knew the password, you’d tell it to me straight out. And if you were authorized and there were no password, you’d just tell me to go to hell.”

  “Go to hell.”

  He smiled. “Nice try, but your first response is all that counts. And that tells me you aren’t authorized.”

  She smiled back. “Very clever. Although there is one flaw with your plan.”

  “What’s that?”

  The Amazon snatched up the diminutive goblin by his scarf and hurled him down the hall and out of her way. He landed hard on the floor, but his race was innately bouncy so there was no harm done. By the time he’d gotten to his feet, she’d already gone inside. The magic of the siren’s dirge had no power over a woman.

  “Hadn’t thought of that.” With a shrug, Ace collected his pipe and went on his way.

  On the other side of the door, Regina’s dark eyes widened. “Oh. You’re back.”

  In no mood to care about déjà vu, Ned said, “I’m back.”

  “Are you feeling better, sir?”

  He didn’t reply. That remained a complicated question.

  There was another awkward silence, the second such clumsy hush to fall between Ned and a woman this evening. Ned, as usual, didn’t notice, but for Regina this was agony. She no longer denied she felt something for him. She dared not give it a name. She wasn’t ready for that. But this unlabeled emotion, this ridiculous and inappropriate desire, was nothing less than a blight on her proud Amazonian soul. At least she didn’t have to worry about parental disapproval. Amazons had neither fathers nor mothers. They had only the code of their society to guide them, and the code was very specific and quite unforgiving.

  In a situation like this, where temptation had somehow wormed its way into her iron breast, only blood could cleanse her spirit. Ned’s blood. She had to kill him, and her code said to do so right now. She pulled her dagger quietly and edged toward him as he sat on his bed, his back to her. A dozen ends flashed through her warrior’s mind. She could spear him in the heart, cut his throat, sever his spine, or forgo the dagger and break his neck with her bare hands. And though these thoughts should’ve brought a grim smile to her lips, instead they made her frown.

  Goddesses despise her, she couldn’t do it. And even if she could, it wouldn’t have worked. Never Dead Ned was immortal. Her dilemma wouldn’t be solved so easily, but she would have to find a way.

  Ned turned his head slowly as if he’d forgotten her presence and was now just remembering. Dagger in hand, she glanced around the room and tried not to look murderous. No more murderous than usual.

  “It’s good to have you back, sir.”

  He tilted his head to one side like a goat trying its best to understand the workings of a catapult and failing. “Really?”

  “Yes, sir.” She tried to look casual with her drawn dagger, twirling it as if she were merely trying to keep her hands busy. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Thanks, but Miriam is already doing that.”

  Regina’s dark eyes reddened. “Miriam.” She spoke the name like a curse called down from the heavens. Not the glowing heaven of glorious goddesses, where grand feminine divinities dwelt in righteous splendor, but the lesser, forsaken heaven of gluttonous and useless gods, where the masculine deities wasted all their time getting drunk and peeping down on virgins in earthly bathhouses.

  The door opened, and Miriam, carrying a tray full of food and drink, entered. Ned didn’t have the energy to rise from the bed, and instead he lay back down. “Put it on the table.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Miriam very pleasantly.

  But the siren and the Amazon locked stares. Regina twirled her dagger faster. Balancing her tray on her hip, Miriam put her free hand on the short sword at her side. Ned remained steadfastly oblivious.

  Miriam addressed him, but her eyes never moved from Regina’s. “I’ve brought enough for two if you’d like some company, sir.”

  Regina squinted. Her brow wrinkled. “An excellent suggestion. You’re dismissed, Miriam.”

  Miriam’s full, fishy lips tightened into a forced smile. “I think that’s really up to the commander, isn’t it, ma’am?”

  “I suppose it is.” Regina stopped twirling her dagger. She grasped it in tight fingers, ready to slash open Miriam’s
face at only a moment’s opportunity.

  Ned stood and went to the tray. He uncorked a bottle of wine and took a long drink. “Thanks, but I’d rather be alone.”

  Miriam frowned at the rebuke. Regina frowned at the rebuke too and scowled with the hard acknowledgment that she cared about his rebuke.

  “As you wish, sir,” spat the Amazon through clenched teeth. “Come along, Miriam.”

  “After you, ma’am.”

  The women exited, drawing close enough to attack each other, but Ned’s proximity held them in check. On the other side of the closed door, they quickly put some distance between themselves. Neither said anything, but both were plagued with doubts.

  To Miriam, her Amazon rival was a vexing obstacle. True, Regina was unskilled in the art of seduction, but she was flawlessly beautiful, tall, and well-proportioned, with smooth, soft skin. And there was her hair, that shimmering, flaxen mane. A bald, scaly siren couldn’t compete against any of that. Not without her songs, which she was determined not to use.

  She didn’t have a chance.

  Regina saw Miriam as a creature of exotic undersea loveliness. Her scales glimmered even in the dim hall light, and her natural grace was undeniable. Worse than that, she was a siren. Enticing men was second nature to her. And Regina, as an Amazon, knew absolutely nothing about wooing a lover.

  She didn’t have a chance.

  Either woman might’ve leapt upon the other to end their rivalry the only way they could think of at the moment. But fate flipped a coin, and the moment passed.

  Regina sheathed her dagger. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve duties to attend to.”

  “Yes, me too.” Miriam lowered her hand from her sword. “Perhaps we should go attend to our duties together.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” agreed Regina.

  Both glanced at Ned’s door. Then, smiling sweetly at one another while plotting each other’s death, they went on their way.

  Twelve

  NED COULDN’T STAY in his quarters forever, but he dared not leave. For one thing, he’d never been terribly motivated. He wouldn’t have minded lying in his bed under his covers, having his food brought to him and doing nothing else except the occasional turn to prevent bedsores. He knew it was an impossible dream. He’d have to get up sometime to relieve himself, and a bath every so often seemed more necessity than luxury. But if he was going to live forever, then he could live forever here just as easily as anywhere else.