The Pain of Compassion

by Roland Boykin

  His hand engulfed by the ogre’s, he turned to Emma. “You are also welcome, young woman. Are you here to speak for the ogre?”

  “The hairy oaf can speak for himself. I’m here because I’m hungry.”

  Sebastian released the innkeeper’s hand and reassured him. “Never mind my grumpy little friend, Master Innkeeper. I have studied long and hard to learn your language, and no longer need someone to speak for me. But it has been a long morning and I am hungry also.”

  “Of course. Of course, and I have just the place for you to seat yourself,” the innkeeper said, leading them to a corner table. “My great, great Grand-Sire fought alongside the ogres during the war of the Deluti and had great respect for them. He commissioned this table and chairs for their occasional visits to the inn,” he explained while wiping down the oversized table and chairs. “Make yourselves comfortable and I’ll return shortly with your meal.”

  Sebastian eased back in his chair, pleased with how well it fit him, and tried desperately not to laugh out loud at Emma who looked like a child at the grown-up’s table. One look at her face convinced him to keep his thoughts to himself or he might wake up in the morning missing body parts.

  The patrons patiently waited for the pair to finish their meal before one of the men called out. “What news of the world, friend ogre?”

  “Dire news, my friend. I am on my way to bring a message to the King from the Ancient One. His brother, the Scarred Mage, is once again spreading his hatred toward the Elder Races. His agents, including some sorcerers, are traveling throughout the country spreading lies. Already the rumors are turning some of the humans against us as we barely escaped from Brighton Ferry this morning. Fortunately, the sorcerer there revealed himself and fell to his own hatred.”

  The innkeeper pulled over a chair and joined the conversation. “Dire news indeed. Who would be foolish enough to believe those lies?”

  “People have short memories, Harold,” one of the men addressed the innkeeper. “Most have only heard of the Elders through the old tales.”

  “Aye, I been hearin’ dem rumors myself,” the elder at the table joined in. “What be putting a crack in me pots is da attitude o’ dem new guards. They’s mean and gots an evil look. Somthin tain’t right, I tell ya.”

  Worried, Harold turned to the ogre. “Sebastian, do you have a contact in the Capitol?”

  After a quick glance at Emma, Sebastian turned back to the innkeeper and shook his head.

  “After you enter the city, continue down the main street until you pass the stable yards and leather shops. Turn right at the next street and look for the Four Horse Inn. Ask for Aaron, the proprietor. He holds the same respect for the Elders as I do, and will take care of you.”

  Harold walked them out to their wagon where he shook the ogre’s hand again. “It’s been a pleasure, Sebastian. Good luck, and if I may offer another piece of advice, ask for Prince Mathias instead of the King when you reach the Palace. I’ve heard he is the most approachable of the bunch.”

  Emma and Sebastian spent the rest of the journey in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As they approached the city, the traffic increased to the point where Emma once again hid in the back of the wagon. They had discussed this earlier and decided it would be best if she stayed out of sight.

  Once inside the city, Sebastian followed Harold’s directions and turned down the first street looking for the right inn. Before he could find it, four of the King’s Guard surrounded the wagon, hands resting on their swords.

  “If you can understand me, ogre, turn your wagon around and leave the city. Your kind is not welcome here.”

  Knives in hand, Emma shifted the light around her and stood up, ready to defend her partner.

  Onlookers were drawn to the confrontation from all directions as word of an ogre in the city spread swiftly. Some in the crowd shouted encouragement to the ogre while others sided with the guards who found themselves in the position of keeping the two sides separated while Sebastian sat there in wonder. He would have turned the wagon around and left except for the crowd that hemmed him in. Before the situation could erupt into total chaos, a figure in royal attire, escorted by two of the Palace Guard, forced his way through the crowd.

  “What is the meaning of this disturbance, Sergeant?”

  “Just following orders, my lord,” he tried to explain. “This crowd gathered and became unruly right after I asked the ogre to leave the city.”

  “I will find out who issued those orders, but for now, consider them rescinded. An ogre does not simply ride into the city without a good reason. Perhaps we should ask after said reason.”

  From the look on the sergeant’s face, it was obvious he felt this was a waste of time. The Prince turned away, frustrated with having to deal with another of the new guard who had been brought into the city. Shaking his head, he addressed Sebastian. “Forgive me, friend ogre. There are still many here who welcome the presence of the Elder Races, myself among them. May I inquire as to the purpose of your visit?”

  Sebastian bowed from his place in the wagon, having recognized Prince Mathias from the description given him back at the inn. “Certainly, Your Highness. I am called Sebastian, and have been sent by the Ancient One to bring a message of warning to the King.”

  “Sergeant, you and your men may continue your patrol. I take full responsibility for the safety and well being of our guest.”

  Some of the crowd had left once the Prince arrived, but a few remained, concerned over rumors they’d heard. “Is it true that the non-humans are preparing to attack our outer settlements?” someone called out.

  Sebastian was genuinely puzzled by the question, and it showed on his face. He turned to face the direction the question had come from and held out his arms. “We are very happy with life in our homeland, and humans have nothing that we want. What possible reason would we have to attack?”

  Those folks in front nodded in agreement after witnessing the confusion on the ogre’s face and walked away satisfied there was nothing to worry about. Everyone knew an ogre couldn’t lie. The Prince rode over to the side of the wagon and stretched out his hand.

  “Well met, Sebastian. I am Prince Mathias, but I cannot imagine how you knew.”

  The ogre grasped the Prince’s hand in his own, careful not to cause injury, and smiled. “Well met, Prince. You have a good reputation with the folks out in the country. At the last inn, they said I should seek you out once I arrived. Their description was very accurate.”

  “May I?” the Prince asked, indicating the empty spot next to Sebastion.

  At the ogre’s nod, Mathias tied his horse to the back of the wagon and climbed in, joining him. “I would offer you a place in the Palace but I would need to introduce you to my father first, and it’s too late for that. Have you a place for the night?”

  “I was told to seek out Aaron at the Four Horse Inn, and that he would treat me kindly.”

  Mathias called out to his guard, “Richard, escort us to the Four Horse Inn.”

  “As you wish, Highness.”

  On the move once again, an enterprising street urchin trotted alongside the wagon and began his pitch. “If you be needin a guide in da city, Sir Ogre, Poppie be the man for you. I knows alla best places ta be eatin and buyin. Everyone knows Poppie and Poppie knows everyone.”

  Sebastian smiled down at the boy. “Little man, if you know a merchant who might buy this wagon load of supplies, send them to the inn this evening and there will be a reward in it for you.”

  “You can count on Poppie, Sir Ogre! Be seeing you at the inn,” he yelled over his shoulder and disappeared down the street.

  Prince Mathias glanced up at the ogre and nodded. “I wondered about the wagon, Sebastian, but I must admit that you have taken everything I thought I knew about ogres and trampled it under the hoofs of the horses. Never have I heard of an ogre driving a wagon like a merchant, and who speaks better than most learned men.”

  Sebastian laughed out lo
ud. “The Ancient One would have my fangs if I couldn’t present his message to the King in a way that is easy to understand. As for the wagon, I know someone who would tell you that I am just a lazy ogre, but riding is much easier than walking.”

  “But what of the trade goods inside?”

  The ogre hesitated before answering, unsure what he could say without lying, but without revealing too much truth either. “We ogre do not use coins as you humans do. It seemed a good idea at the time I acquired this wagon to sell the items inside to have the coins I would need to pay for lodging and food.”

  Before the Prince had a chance to ask Sebastian what he meant by ‘acquired’, they arrived at the inn and caught the innkeeper outside sweeping the entryway. Jumping down from the wagon, Mathias waved to the innkeeper. “Take good care of my friend, Aaron.”

  Back in the saddle, he rode up to Sebastian. “The main entrance to the Palace is only used for special occasions, so use the common gate instead. Anyone can direct you. When you arrive, ask for me personally and I will escort you in to see the King. Tomorrow is fortuitous since he will be meeting with the Council of Dukes, and they should also hear what you have to say.”

  Aaron lived up to his reputation and saw to Sebastian’s every need. He also had a room big enough for an ogre, and didn’t bat an eye when Sebastian requested two meals be served in his room. He probably assumed that the ogre would eat both when in truth the other meal was for Emma.

  True to his word, Poppie showed up soon after with someone who, after some spirited haggling from the boy, agreed to buy all Sebastian had and also pay a small fee for the use of the wagon to transport the goods to his store. Poppie promised to bring the wagon back as soon as it was unloaded. Sebastion picked out one of the smaller pieces from the bag of unfamiliar coins and handed it to the boy not knowing it was actually one of the more valuable pieces.

  The boy stared in wonder at the coin resting on his palm. If Sebastian had been able to read a human’s expression, he would have recognized the dawning of hero worship. From that moment on, the ogre could do no wrong in Poppie’s eyes.

  Emma had been uncommonly quiet all evening. Sebastian walked over to stand next to her as she stared out the window, and reached down to squeeze her shoulder. She glanced up at him, placed her hand over his and shivered.

  “I wish we could just turn around and go home. There is an evil here such as I have never felt before. It taints the world around me and it’s coming from the Palace on the hill.” Taking a deep breath, she squeezed his hand in return. “I am afraid for you, Sebastian.”

  Without a word, the ogre left her alone with her fear and lay down, rehearsing in his mind the words the Ancient One had entrusted to him.

  ***

  Making his rounds of the inn as was his habit before turning in for the night, Aaron found young Poppie asleep in front of the ogre’s door. Taking a blanket from one of the rooms not in use, he covered the boy, and smiling, continued on to bed.

  ***

  Bright and early the next morning, Poppie proudly escorted Sebastian to the common gate of the Palace, and announced to the guards, ‘Sebastian the Ogre’ was here to see Prince Mathias and he was expected. The Prince arrived quickly and led the ogre through the Palace to a set of ornate double doors. After knocking loudly, he opened the doors and ushered Sebastian inside.

  “Forgive the intrusion, Majesty, but Sebastian here has traveled far to bring you a message from the Ancient One, and requests permission to speak.”

  The Council member’s initial irritation at being interrupted soon turned into wide smiles at the look of disbelief on the King’s face. Duke Strumant guffawed loudly and smacked the table with his hand.

  “There you are, Charles. An ogre in the Palace with a message from the Ancient One. Do you believe now? I think we need to hear what he has to say.”

  The King motioned for his son to approach, and handed him the Cup of Truth while attempting to regain his composure. He stood as Mathias handed the cup to Sebastian.

  “Well met, Sebastian. Do you consent to the Cup of Truth?”

  At Sebastian’s nod, the King continued. “Then speak your message, and may the Eyes guide us in dealing with what you reveal.”

  Chapter Twelve ~ The Oasis

  Navon felt sorry for those who had to walk and cover their faces to breathe. As the work party made its way to the next butcher site, they stirred the ash and dust into clouds that seemed to follow them. The dried blood on his clothes cracked and fell off in flakes, but the stench remained. Not for the first time did he wish for a fresh set of clothes, or at least be able to wash the ones he wore. Already, the rays of the sun had dissipated the cool night air, and what water they had would be needed for drinking.

  Riding upon Moshere’s back above the drifting ash and dust allowed Navon’s thoughts to focus on the one so dear to his heart. His concern for Moonlight’s safety continued to grow. The abundant meat available on the plains would soon spoil, and he had a feeling that when the group returned home, they would travel away from the river. She could probably survive without food for several days, but water would become a problem.

  Riding next to Jamar, he turned to his guard. “How long will you continue to work?”

  “One day. Meat go bad. Go home tomorrow.”

  “How far away is home?”

  After scanning the area and sharing a look with his mount, Jamar answered. “Four days.”

  That look convinced Navon these men had developed a bond with their horses similar to the one he had with the wolf. He now understood why they called them Brothers. Was this something they were born with or did it take time to learn? Yet he never saw the young boys staring at their mounts in the same way as their elders, so the latter must be true. Moshere bobbed his head and the unmistakable echo of agreement touched Navon’s mind.

  Navon now had even more to worry about. If Moshere was that aware of his thoughts, would he detect Moonlight’s presence and alert the others? Thoughts of the young wolf were forced to the back of his mind as the group set up and Navon was once again busy helping out where needed. Like the day before, no one spoke to him, only sent guarded looks his way.

  Work progressed at a feverish pace, with the noon break consisting of only enough time to down a cup of the same bitter drink that had been served the night before. Thankfully, no more living calves were found.

  At a signal from Lodorn, the young head of the group, the butchering came to a stop and every effort was made to get the meat hung on drying racks. Smoky fires were lit under the racks and would be carefully tended all night with the dried meat salted and packed away in the morning. Those not directly involved with the fires were allowed to relax and gathered into several small groups, leaving Navon alone. Thoughts of Moonlight came flooding back to trouble him as he slumped to the ground, head resting on his knees.

  One solution had presented itself as he worked. While most of the bones were used to keep the drying fires going, the skulls were discarded. Some were large enough to hold a fair amount of water. The meat was carefully guarded, but anyone could help themselves to the water barrels at any time. So far, no one seemed to notice as he poured his cup of water into one of the skulls after taking a sip for himself. He needed to figure out a way to carry several of the skulls as they traveled so he could leave one filled with water at every stop along the way.

  Other than Moshere standing by him for awhile to provide some welcome shade, and the boys who brought him a blanket and a meal, Navon continued to be ignored. Later that night, as he lay staring up at the stars, Moonlight’s concern for him filled his thoughts. He tried to project to her they would be leaving in the morning, and he would leave a skull full of water for her every day. Satisfied she would be all right for now, he closed tired eyes and let sleep overtake him.

  In the morning, Navon rolled over and came face-to-face with a whiskered snout. Sometime during the night, Moshere had laid down next to him, either for protection or companions
hip. The two of them raised their heads and stared into each other’s eyes. Without thinking, Navon projected a feeling of thanks and a good morning. Moshere nodded, and the distinctive feel of his thoughts merging with Navon’s was unmistakable.

  Unnerved, the young man rolled back to his other side to sit up and found Jamar sitting back on his heels, eyes narrowed in concentration and disapproval. Navon accepted the offered steaming mug and tried to ignore the suspicion in the old man’s eyes. Moshere had moved a short distance away to shake off the dirt and soot then returned to stand behind Navon.

  Jamar glanced up at the brother before he spoke. “You, Moshere, share heads, yes?”

  With the horse now a constant presence in his mind, Navon could only nod.

  Jamar sighed. “Not good. Only Shadhuin share heads with Brothers. Others are angry. Some afraid. Moshere is… how you say, highest of Brothers.” He stood and frowned down at Navon as his own mount approached. “Old, old Shadhuin story from the elders say Demon come someday, steal head of highest Brother and kill Maudwan.”

  “I’m no demon,” Navon said quietly at the same time Moshere snorted.

  “You no Shadhuin, maybe not thief, and you say no demon. What are you, Na’von de Roddell?”

  “A lonely young man, a long way from home,” came his answer.

  ***

  Nestled up against the base of Mount Baltok, where the capital of Kiplar had originally set down its roots, sat an old non-descript inn. Known as the place for late night meetings between discreet lovers, and those whose actions were best kept hidden, its innkeeper never lacked for money. No one remembered the inn’s original name. Based on the faded sign above the door, that supposedly sported the likeness of the first Queen of Dahlian with two pints of ale pictured below, the name “The Queen’s Jugs” had stuck. Only the innkeeper was aware of the irony of the name considering the identity of one of his patrons.

  In a dark booth farthest from the door, two hooded figures sat in a lovers embrace. The pain of long-buried memories resurfacing threatened to overwhelm the Queen as she softly kissed the lips of the old arms-master, and gently traced the scars on his cheek with her fingers. The face of a young guardsman hovered before her as the past overcame the present, and she lost herself to the feelings she had buried for so long. He reached up to cover her hand with his as she pulled back, the flickering candlelight revealing a sad smile on his face.