* * * *
Garrick heard a roar of rage and pain and knew that he was the last. Well, unless Borwin was still running. Rather than letting the death of his friends weigh him down, he let it free him. He let a primal roar loose from his own throat and jumped into the ogres circling him. Blood sprayed from his sword with every swing. He seemed to be always ahead of the ogres, moving before they expected him to.
The ogres gave him room after a time. He stood and breathed in the northern winds tainted with the smell of smoke from Amvar's burning house. Garrick saw the flames reaching the sky from the corner of his eye but dared not take his attention from the ogres. He was glad the man had managed, at least, to deny the ogres any pillaging.
"I'm only one man," Garrick shouted at them, making them jump back from his sudden outburst. "Come on, taste my steel! Come and die on the blade of Garrick, slayer of giants!"
The ogres stayed where they were and grunted to one another in their crude language. Garrick's eyes narrowed as he wondered if they were making a plan to rush him. He'd gotten his wind back and the burn had left his arms. Should he rush them instead? He counted close to two dozen left, perhaps more since he could only see the ones closest to him clearly. Insurmountable numbers for a single warrior, but he hadn't lived this long by being told what he couldn't do.
Besides, if Alto could kill a dragon singlehandedly, surely he could handle a small army of ogres!
"I'm tired of resting," Garrick snarled at them. "Either you come at me or I'm going to kill every one of you sons of dogs!"
The ogres parted to let an older member of their war party through. The ogre stared at Garrick and snarled, a scar across his face disfiguring the already ugly brute. He held an iron-bound club with spikes driven into the end of it.
"You the leader?" Garrick shifted his stance and asked. "Don't know why I bother asking—you're too stupid to know how to talk."
"Me Grack," the ogre said in a heavy voice. "Grack means bone crush."
Garrick stiffened in surprise and then relaxed back into his fighting stance. Grack and Garrick. He scowled and decided to make sure the sound of their names was where the similarity ended. He glanced around but none of the ogres had moved towards him.
"You Garrick?" Grack asked.
"You hard of hearing?" Garrick taunted.
"You come," Grack said.
"You go," Garrick countered.
Grack scowled. "You come and you might live. You fight, you die."
Garrick swung his sword for effect. "I seem to be doing okay so far. How about I kill you first?"
Grack snarled and brandished his club.
Garrick raised his sword. "I'll kill every one of your motherless dogs," Garrick growled.
"You die," the ogre spat.
Garrick leapt forward and thrust his sword at the ogre. Unlike the other ogres, Grack was quick enough to dodge back, though not without earning a cut on his cheek to match the scar on the other side. His club swung across and bounced off Garrick's back, knocking his breath from him and making his spine pop in several places.
"You first," Garrick snarled at him while he stepped to the side and kept his feet moving. His back hurt but he'd been too close to the ogre for the spikes at the end of the club to touch him. He stepped in and swung his sword, only to find the ogre blocked it with his club. Garrick spun away from the strike and delivered a glancing blow with his blade against the ogre's arm. Grack had moved his sword to block him again.
Grack snarled at him and brought the massive club across, barely missing the retreating barbarian's chest. Garrick jumped forward as soon as he felt the ground under the balls of his feet. His blade was knocked aside but not before it cut a furrow on Grack's hip. In too close, Garrick dropped his sword and pulled his axe free from his belt. He pushed himself into Grack's belly, the muscles straining in his legs as he forced the ogre to back up a step.
Grack raised his club overhand and was about to drop it on Garrick's head. Garrick hewed into the side of Grack's leg with his axe, staggering the ogre. He swung it up and buried it between the ogre's legs, earning a strangled yelp from Grack and making the ogre drop his club.
The iron-bound cudgel bounced off Garrick's shoulder, adding a flash of irritation from the pain. The northern man stepped back and watched Grack fall to his knees. Blood sprayed onto the sparse grass between his legs.
"I think I'll call you Grirl now," Garrick taunted. He spat on the ogre and picked up his sword. Returning his hatchet to his belt, Garrick turned to the other ogres to address them. He opened his mouth but realized they'd fallen back several steps. He didn't know if it was to give Grack room to fight or what, but he decided to use it to his advantage. "There's a lot of you left, more than you whore-sons can probably count. You could still kill me, but you have to rush me and I won't go easy. I'll kill the first one of you goblin-lovers that comes for me, then the second and the third. I'll keep killing until you bear me down or there ain't none of you left."
Grack spoke in the tongue of ogres, though Garrick could tell his voice was weak. He finished speaking and glared at Garrick. "Grack will kill you, man."
Garrick sneered at him. "You're going to need more ogres next time."
"Grack will be back!"
Garrick looked at the pool of blood spreading beneath Grack and shook his head. "You'll be dead soon," he prophesied. "Send your curs back and I'll let them drag you with them."
Grack glared at him and nodded, and then spoke again to the ogres around him. They grabbed him and hauled him up, and then supported him between two of them as they started to retreat into the mountains. Garrick chuckled at the trail of blood Grack left behind. He wouldn't last the night.
The barbarian turned back to the burning house. A wall fell in and the roof collapsed. An entire family butchered and killed. Garrick turned and found Lars' body. He ignored the gore and picked the young man up, and then carried him over to the fiery hall. He ignored the heat as best he could and tossed Lars into the heart of the fire, and then backed away until his eyes weren't smarting from the heat.
"They're all dead."
Garrick cursed and spun around. His hand was on his sword but he left it sheathed when he recognized the voice as Borwin's. He'd forgotten about the boy in the excitement. Garrick nodded. "They are."
"What about me?"
"You're alive," Garrick said. "Your family was strong; you should be proud."
"Not strong enough," the boy whispered as fresh tears crossed his cheeks.
Garrick found himself at a loss for what to say. He tried to think back to what his father had said to him the many times he'd been difficult. "Your father wouldn't want you crying," he tried.
Borwin looked at up Garrick. "You're alive too."
Garrick nodded.
"You killed the ogres and drove them back."
"I've fought brutes like these before," Garrick explained.
"I want to be strong. Will you teach me?"
Garrick saw the hopeful look amid the unshed tears in the boy's eyes. His heart went to the boy. Garrick turned and stared after the retreating ogres. They'd disappeared back into the mountains up the hill they'd come down. A war party that large he'd never seen before. At least not before Sarya, but she was gone. Had the ogres learned to join forces or was there more to it?
Garrick thought back to Grack and gasped when he realized the scarred ogre had known him. Or if he hadn't known him, he'd been interested in him. Something was happening in the Northern Divide. Something bigger than a tribe of his countrymen being slaughtered.
"Come, boy, but you must keep up. I have a long ways to go and little time to do it."
"You'll take me?" Borwin squeaked.
"I'll take you to my people and they will teach you to be strong. You will learn what your father would have taught you, to hunt and to fight."
Borwin nodded and dropped his eyes. He looked back up at Garrick a moment later and asked, "What will you do?"
"I'm going to
find my friends and put an end to the threat in the mountains once and for all!"
Isle of the Ape Page 5