by Eric Vall
Aurora and I exchanged amused grins before she turned back around in her seat and brought Bobbie back to life, and Haragh worked on righting himself as he came around more fully.
“Would ye’ look at that,” Haragh mumbled in a daze. “That’s the Izig Cliffs straight ahead. Keep on this path for a ways, we’re nearly there, now.”
Aurora took us onward like nothing at all had happened, and the conversation of what there was to eat in ogre country began in the front seat.
I slid the second magazine into my pocket, and in a few seconds, I had everything stowed out of sight on the floor of the Mustang. Then I casually dropped my arms around Cayla and Deya, and the princess let out a sleepy sigh as the beautiful elf snuggled in closer.
“That’s the other thing to remember,” Haragh grunted, and he craned his neck a bit to talk to me.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The ogres don’t invite no one to a feast, so don’t sit around expectin’ any civilities, that’s just askin’ to be killed. Ye’ invite your own damn self to a feast in Jagruel.”
I nodded. “When do they feast?”
“When are they not feastin’?” Haragh snorted.
Chapter 11
We parked Bobbie off the road once we were in the thick of a pine forest, and the cover of the massive trees made the daylight as dim as dusk in here. The cool air was damp and salty when I climbed out of the car behind Cayla, and I could hear the crashing waves of the ocean not far away.
I stretched my legs and arms, turned in a circle, and eyed the giant trees. They reminded me of redwoods, except their bark was a deep purple, and their needles looked more blue than green. They also had thick masses of slimy moss hanging from their boughs, and it kind of looked like a giant blew his nose all over the forest.
Still, the air was refreshing and crisp, and with the forest floor entirely made up of a soft bed of bluish needles, there was little chance any plants were going to try to eat me here. So, I smiled and stretched a bit more before heading to the trunk.
“Damn, it’s good to be back.” Haragh let out a long happy sigh as he looked around him.
“What is this place called?” Cayla asked.
“The forest,” he said as he smiled a little wider. “Ain’t it lovely?”
“It is beautiful,” the princess giggled, “but I meant do you have a name for this part of the region? Like the Izig Cliffs you pointed out?”
“Nope,” the half-ogre said proudly. “No names. Just Jagruel. Izig was the name of the ogre who conquered the trolls to expand our territory north about four hundred years ago. That’s the only reason we call ‘em Izig Cliffs. There’s a lot of cliffs around here, but those are the ones we took from the trolls. We’re pretty proud of ourselves about it.”
I chuckled as I unsealed the trunk, and Aurora joined me to begin loading the magazine on her bow.
“I didn’t know there were trolls here,” I said.
“There aren’t,” Haragh chuckled, and he shuffled over to prop his elbow on the hood of the Mustang. “We ate ‘em.”
I stared. “All of them?”
“There weren’t that many,” he said with a shrug. “Takes seven years to birth a troll, so their race was dyin’ off anyway. Then they started poisoning the only fresh water supply in the entire west coast, so Izig took matters into his own hands. Did a hell of a job, too.”
I shook my head as I handed the half-ogre a couple daggers for his belt, and when he eyed the Halcyan ones sheepishly, I smirked and swapped them out for him.
Hulsan came to join us all while Haragh happily sheathed his Halcyan daggers, but the old man stopped in his tracks when he got a view of the trunk.
Cayla just smirked and pulled her shotgun and revolver out, and Deya smiled sweetly to the old man as she secured two Halcyan swords to her waist before strapping my bow across her chest.
“I thought you wanted to save the ogres,” the old man said suspiciously.
“I do,” I assured him.
Hulsan furrowed his brow. “Do you always carry this many weapons?”
“Yeah,” I said with a shrug, and I handed a box of bullets to Cayla. “There’s usually five of us, though.”
“There’s enough in there to fully arm thirty men,” Hulsan snorted.
“We like to have options,” Aurora said, and Cayla nodded her agreement.
“What’s that one?” Hulsan asked as he pointed to one of the bazookas.
“Rocket launcher,” I said as I tried not to grin. “You want a sword or anything? Dagger? I’ve got some spare shuriken if that’s more your taste.”
Hulsan’s brows were raised as he stared for a long moment at the arsenal Cayla had stocked for us, and then he blankly shook his head.
“No, I’ll be fine,” he finally said. “Gotta take a piss, though.”
Deya giggled after the old man headed off into the woods, and Haragh chuckled as he picked up a bazooka to test his aim.
“This one looks like a hell of a lot of fun,” he mused as he turned a circle and looked through the sight.
“It is,” Cayla sighed.
“Unfortunately, it wouldn’t work for you, though,” I told the half-ogre.
“Why not?” he asked, and he looked severely disappointed.
“It’s made to function exclusively for the five of us,” I told him, and I came over to point out the small rune Dragir had engraved. “I have no idea how it works, but it works, and that’s fine by me because this thing does a lot of damage. Cayla used it against those elves who tried to kill you, but I think you were already dying by then.”
“Damn,” Haragh cursed. “Would’ve liked to see that.”
“I’ll show you some other time,” Cayla offered, and Haragh cheered up a bit.
“Better leave this one behind in Jagruel,” he said as he put the bazooka back in the trunk. “The ogres don’t have much use for a weapon, but we recognize the threat of ‘em. The bigger the club, the more dangerous, so they’d probably not take too well to this behemoth bein’ brought into the lair.”
“You guys have a lair?” I asked as I resealed the trunk.
“Aye, no capitals or villages in Jagruel. You’ve got the caves where we do our feastin’ and the lair where we do our tradin’. We’re in the forest now, as ye’ see. We do our huntin’ out here or by the ocean.”
“Simple enough,” I said as Hulsan stumbled back through the trees already snorting some more pollen. “Let’s get going then.”
“Hold up!” Haragh said before I could make it ten paces. “None of you are in proper formation.”
We all exchanged glances as we froze in place, but Hulsan ignored the half-ogre and just dropped down to sit on a felled log that was probably as tall as Temin’s castle when it was standing.
“Formation?” I asked in confusion.
“That’s right,” Haragh grunted, and he shifted my shoulders for me so I was facing directly toward the trees in front of me. “We’ll be at the lair in about a half hour, and you don’t want anyone catchin’ ye’ out of formation before you even introduce yourself.”
Haragh scooted Aurora over to me while she chuckled in amusement, and Cayla cocked a brow as she cautiously followed after.
“You gotta keep your pride in line or they won’t respect ye’,” Haragh explained. “Here, Aurora stand there on Mason’s left, but never in line with him, yeah? Just behind and keep a three-foot distance. He needs his room to breathe. Cayla, you would normally be at the back due to the size of ye’, meanin’ no offense, miss, but since you’re well-armed, you’d be better at the right flank. That way they know you’re not hidin’ nothing. Elf at the back, but a tad to the left, alright? It wouldn’t be right to stand as if Shoshanne weren’t in the pride. If one member’s off huntin’ or what not, the rest must keep formation, so the other ogres don’t think you’ve failed to maintain your lot.”
My brows were up from the moment Haragh started fussing over the women, and it took so much e
ffort to keep quiet while he carried on like this. So, when he finally finished and I found myself with my women obediently in place around me, I caught the half-ogre’s arm before he could continue through the woods.
“My pride?” I clarified. “Please expand upon this, I’m loving the sound of it.”
“Of course, you are,” Haragh snorted. “I told ye’ the men in Jagruel outnumber the women ten to one. So, it’s a coveted thing to get one for your own. It’s traditional amongst the ogres to have more than one, though, so these days, if ye’ can uphold the proper pride, and manage to keep them in line, it sets you well above the rest.”
“Yeah, it does,” I said as I turned a roguish grin toward my women, and Deya giggled as she sent me a coy wave from her “proper position.”
“Now, ladies,” Haragh said as he looked over my head, “don’t break formation for anything, alright? Unless Mason’s tellin’ ye’ to do somethin’, keep in line.”
Aurora cocked a brow as her expression darkened.
Then Haragh cleared his throat and added a “please” that he probably almost followed up with a “don’t kill me,” and Aurora kept her fiery eyes on the half-ogre as he swiftly turned to head into the woods.
Hulsan chuckled and followed close behind, and with my pride apparently well in hand, I did my best not to let the whole arrangement go to my head.
I still wore a shit-eating grin on my face every time I glanced over my shoulder, though, and I had to admit, my women really did respect the formation. They remained perfectly in step where Haragh had placed them, and they didn’t even seem to mind too much. It was strange not having one or all of them on my arms for once, but I couldn’t deny I felt pretty fucking awesome with my own auger sexy band of scantily clad guards at my flank.
Which only solidified my confidence about dealing with the ogres. Apparently, we had a thing or two in common, and with Haragh around to make sure I didn’t make an ass of myself and end up being used as a condiment, what could really go wrong?
“I love to imagine what my father would say if he could see how I live my life these days,” Deya sighed.
“Mine as well,” Cayla laughed. “It’s not every day a princess is made to follow behind a knight.”
“Trust me, you’ll thank me later,” Haragh assured us. “Havin’ a pride as large as yours is a rare thing in Jagruel. Whether you’re ogre or not, it’ll work in our favor.”
“I have a feeling I’m gonna love the ogres,” I said with a grin.
“I have a feeling you’ll be eating your words in a minute,” Hulsan chuckled. “I found a slaughtered wyvern back there when I was takin’ a piss. All that was left was the skin.”
My smile fell as I glanced at Haragh.
“Wyvern’s good meat,” he said with a nod. “Personally, I prefer ‘em charred to raw, though.” Then he nudged Hulsan. “You better step a few paces to the left there. Mason’s the one who’s got business with Grot, so the two of us should stand just ahead, but out to the side enough so the women are on display.”
Aurora sighed in irritation, and Haragh sent her an apologetic look, but when I heard her chuckle a few seconds later, I knew she wasn’t really too annoyed with the half-ogre. It was kind of cute to see her pouting over being told to stay right where she should, though. I didn’t know if it was the same with all Ignis Mages or just her, but I’d never known the half-elf to enjoy being bossed around by anyone but me, and after the treatment she’d gotten in Nalnora, I could see why she wasn’t too eager to be “on display” in foreign lands.
This time, she had Deya with her for a little solidarity, and I knew Haragh wouldn’t have risked bringing either of them along if he thought their race would put them in danger. From the sound of it, the ogres weren’t obnoxiously racist like the elves. They were just generally violent and unbridled, and that was really a whole different ball game.
So, I was feeling good about things, even with the gutted wyvern at our backs, but as I started picking up sounds further ahead, my nerve gave way a bit. The first thing that stuck out to me were the growls and snarls that rose up without restraint, but the heavy clashing of clubs was more concerning. It honestly sounded like a brawl amongst giants, but there were undertones of sloshing mud, gnashing teeth, belching, and what most likely counted as laughter amongst the ogres.
When we drew closer, I cringed as the distinct sound of sweaty flesh slapping together registered in my ears, and I could already tell the ogres weren’t big on hygiene from the amount of times I heard massive loogies being spat out.
The fact that Haragh was looking more and more nervous didn’t ease my growing concerns at all either, and when the trees began to thin out ahead of us, he came to an abrupt stop.
“I just want to say,” the half-ogre said hoarsely, “I’m sorry if they eat ye’. It means a lot to me, you all comin’ out here to help us. Truly.”
I glanced at my women to see them smiling softly, and Aurora went right ahead and broke formation to walk over to Haragh.
Then she did her best to wrap her arms around the half-ogre for a hug, and he looked ready to cry.
“We love you, Haragh,” Aurora mumbled against his arm. “I’m happy to help.”
“I am too,” Cayla said.
“Me too,” Deya added softly. “You’re a wonderful man and friend. I am very excited to learn more about your people. We might even have fun.”
This last part was a stretch, but I admired the beautiful elf’s optimism at least.
“Don’t worry,” I chuckled. “We’ve got this. Let’s see Grot and handle this shit.”
“If all else fails,” Hulsan muttered, “at least the three of us could probably bury half of ‘em in the ground before they get a bite.”
Haragh nodded his agreement as he gruffly shook Aurora off him, and the half-elf giggled happily while she trotted back to her place on my left.
“Alright,” Haragh said with a decisive nod. “Remember everything I’ve told ye’, and no complicated questions. Simple yes or no, don’t start drinkin’ if ye’ can’t finish, and all the rest. Let’s just be casual about it, yeah? We’re walking in like it’s nothin’.”
“Casual day in Jagruel,” I agreed.
I didn’t know if casual days around here sounded like all out brawls from this distance, but we walked on anyways to the edge of the forest. Then we came out into the open between two brackish and jagged cliff faces, and all of us slowed to a stop.
Haragh was the biggest guy I’d ever known, but seeing him side by side with the ogres made him look like a runt and made me feel like I was ten years old. Everywhere I looked, giant, hulking ogres in tattered burlap and leather garb shuffled heavily around the lair, and the few who weren’t growling and trying to rip each other’s heads off were slamming stone mugs the size of my torso down on boulderish tables.
Mud and slimy moss clung to their calloused feet as they lugged around their roughly wrought clubs made of wood, and every one of them wore a wrinkly green scowl smattered with sweat and streaks of dirt. They shoved anyone who so much as bumped into them in passing, and the rickety shacks set up here and there were crashing to the ground all over the place as ogres toppled into each other with furious snarls.
Then the ogres who must have been in charge of the shacks were as pissed as everyone else, and they clubbed anyone in the vicinity before they spat at the ground and hauled the remains of their shacks up from the mud. Most of them gave up rebuilding and dropped down in the mud to drink some more, but others angrily slammed planks together and growled just enough to keep anyone else from wrecking their progress before they finished.
It looked like they were trading various animal pelts for more mugs of whatever they were drinking, but some of the shacks had different sized clubs propped up on display. To me, they just looked like extra-large, super large, and ridiculously large clubs, but I could tell there was a general need for the variance in size. Some of the ogres were only half a foot taller than Haragh, while
others stood a good two feet or more higher.
A few of the shacks had musty burlap attire haphazardly piled on rickety wooden tables, and others were set up more out of the way while their merchants stooped over mounds of boiled leather. I chuckled when I saw one ogre tear the leather apart in a single swipe before he took a few corners between his teeth to rip off another piece or two. When he was done, he tossed the crude vest in a pile of similarly rough looking designs, and every now and then, an ogre would shuffle over and plunk a bubbling stone mug on his table before taking a vest and throwing it on regardless of whether it fit properly.
Everywhere I looked, ogres made their way around the lair in a lumbering fashion, and I had to admire the simplicity of their lifestyle. No money ever changed hands, and no one seemed to have anywhere they needed to rush off to. They drank, they traded their drinks for goods, and they clubbed each other here and there.
It was the polar opposite of Serin, basically, and the thought of Temin sitting in his throne room rubbing his brow and trying to rule over this region made me shake my head.
Then there was a deep rumble as the earth trembled slightly beneath my feet, and all throughout the lair, gurgling springs bubbled up to spew thick reddish mud on everyone. Some of the ogres shielded their mugs, while others didn’t give a shit what flew their way, and the few who were unfortunately right on top of these geysers shook the thick sheen of mud from their legs and kept right on shuffling.
The two looming cliffs barricaded the hoard of sweaty ogres into this one long stretch of boiling, muddy mayhem, and in the distance, smoke billowed up and mingled with the dense gray clouds in the sky. Birds the size of VWs with sleek black feathers circled overhead and nested on the cliff faces, and their grating caws reminded me of an old smoker’s cough. A few of them swooped down to peck at the ogre’s heads once in a while, and they dodged clubs and beat their wings against the rickety shacks as if this was a game they played regularly for their own amusement.
Beside me, my big green friend looked out on the mess with a mix of nostalgic pride and fear, and I cleared my throat as I looked for an appropriate remark.
