Og-Grim-Dog- the Three-Headed Ogre

by Jamie Edmundson

  ‘Not tucking in, Og-Grim-Dog?’ Raya asked them, one hand covering her nose.

  ‘Not interested in troll leftovers,’ said Dog dismissively.

  Og opened the door and they exited onto the corridor. Assata led them forwards, oil lamp in one hand, sword in the other. There was no sign or noise of trolls, or Gurin. Assata’s lamp soon cast its flickering light on a set of large double doors set into the right wall of the corridor ahead of them. Constructed of long planks of wood and banded with metal, they were a step up in construction from anything else they had seen on this level of the dungeon. Wordlessly, the group looked at one another. There was a very high chance that the treasure of the dungeon would be behind those doors.

  They crept quietly to the doors and began to reorganise themselves. Brother Kane took the lamp from Assata and held it up while everyone else in the party readied weapons. Assata pushed at each door, but they were both locked. Raya took out the key she had found in the guardroom on the top level. With a click, the door on the right unlocked. She stepped back again, putting away the key and readying her bow.

  Grim stepped into the empty space. With a nod from his friends to say they were ready, he barged the door open and charged into the room. His eyes took in the room of a wealthy troll lord. A large bed lay against the far wall. Spread around it was a considerable treasure horde. Chests held the promise of unknown riches. But even if they were discounted, there was enough coin, precious gems and items of value strewn about the floor to make this a very lucrative dungeon raid.

  There was one problem, however. Atop the bed were two trolls. The first, Grim assumed, was the troll lord himself. He was a big unit and was quick to get to his feet, his huge club coming to hand instantly. The second was a female. She moved nearly as fast and grabbed a weapon of her own.

  Grim had no more time for thinking. This was going to be difficult. He made for the troll lord, trusting that the others would be able to hold off the second troll until he was done. The troll came for him, too, its huge club held in its long, muscled arm. Grim knew he must stay clear of that weapon at all cost. A clean strike from that would kill in an instant. From the corner of his eye he saw an arrow thud into the chest of the other troll. He doubted that would do much to stop it. But he couldn’t worry about that any more as the clash with the troll lord neared.

  In a surprise move, Dog threw his mace at the troll. Acting through instinct, the troll lifted his club to bat away the flying mace. That movement was enough for Grim, though, who now knew the troll wouldn’t be able to launch a full swing at them for the next few seconds. He launched himself at the troll, hoping that his brothers would act. They did. Og dropped his pike and they both reached out to grab at the troll as they crashed into it. Ogre and troll went tumbling over together, a thrashing mass of heads and limbs. Dog got his hand about the troll’s neck. Og tried to do the same, but the troll had found his arm and was strong enough to keep it away.

  Grim got one foot against the ground and pushed himself up and on to the troll. His forehead came crashing down and landed on the troll’s huge nose with a satisfying crunch of bone. It was enough to loosen its grip on Og’s arm and now both of Grim’s brothers had their hands about the troll’s neck. Grim knew it was over. He heard the snapping of vertebrae as those huge fingers and thumbs squeezed through muscle. The windpipe was crushed, and when they loosened their grip this lord of trolls flopped down, dead.

  But Grim knew there was no time to savour a victory and shouted at his brothers to help him up. Getting to his feet, he saw the other troll surrounded by his friends. Raya was fitting an arrow to her bow, the feathered ends of her other missiles protruding from the female troll. Sandon muttered inconsequentially at a spell, while Brother Kane held up the oil lamp, as if helping the others to see the creature was a great benefit. Clearly, therefore, it was Assata who had done the lion’s share of the work.

  As Grim staggered over to help her, he saw the barbarian duck under a wild swing from the troll. She took the opening, thrusting her sword into its belly, pulling out guts. She stood, admiring her work.

  ‘Move!’ Grim shouted at her.

  No doubt such a strike had finished every other enemy the barbarian had encountered, but trolls were tough bastards and there was no guarantee it was done. Assata turned to him when she heard the shout, still rooted to the spot. She didn’t see the club come around and take her full in the chest. Assata sailed into the air and landed on the floor of the room, her body broken.

  ‘No!’ shouted Grim, who went for the troll. Somehow, Og had picked up his pike and he now plunged the blade into the troll. She went to ground, unmoving.

  Grim turned to Assata. The others had gathered around her unmoving body. Her eyes were closed and her face an ashen colour.

  ‘I killed her!’ Grim lamented. ‘I shouldn’t have called out like that!’

  ‘Not to worry,’ said Sandon. ‘I once met a sprite of Terendael Forest, who was immeasurably wise in the ways of elemental magic—’

  ‘Please,’ said Brother Kane, gently levering the wizard to one side. ‘Let me.’

  The cleric placed both hands to the place where the troll’s club had fractured the barbarian’s chest.

  ‘Mighty Baal, Lord of the Earth and Heavens, Giver of Life and Death, this humble servant calls on you with urgent need.’

  There was no made up language now, Grim noticed. Just a direct, heartfelt plea to a higher being.

  ‘Save this Assata; she still has much to offer the world of the living. If you do this, we will both be in your debt.’

  A shimmering of silver and golden light appeared then, where Brother Kane’s hands met Assata’s injury. When the light faded, Assata was wide-eyed and awake, her colour returned. Kane and Raya pulled her into a seating position.

  ‘Praise Baal,’ Grim found himself muttering.

  Assata met Brother Kane’s eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply.

  The cleric smiled his beatific smile, and all was well. Whatever his earlier opinion of the man, Grim had now witnessed him save Assata’s life, and he would always be grateful to him for that.

  ‘Well,’ said Dog. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but there’s a lot of treasure in here and we can’t be sure that more trolls aren’t headed our way. I think we need to get on with it.’

  He was right, of course, and they all rushed over to the loot and began filling their knapsacks. Many of the chests turned out to be full, too, and there would be a lot to carry.

  ‘It’s a good thing we finished all our food,’ Dog muttered happily as he scooped up handfuls of coin. ‘It’s left more room for treasure.’

  Indeed, the ogre’s bag was substantially larger than anyone else’s and meant that virtually the entire horde could be carried away.

  ‘Anything obviously magical needs to go in here,’ said Raya, wafting a bag. She caught Og-Grim-Dog’s expressions. ‘Don’t worry,’ she added. ‘We can sort it out later.’

  When they were done, they were quick to leave the room and shut the doors behind them. Brother Kane, still holding the oil lamp, led them back the way they had come. Sandon was close behind him. Assata was uncertain on her feet, and Og held her under one arm, keeping her upright. At the back of the group, Raya kept an eye out in case any trolls came at them from the rear.

  But they heard no more of trolls, and soon they were climbing back up the steps from the troll’s level up to where the orcs lived.

  The sound of running feet behind them made them all turn. It was Gurin, scampering after them, seemingly none the worse for wear.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded with a scowl.

  ‘We got the lot,’ said Raya.

  Maybe it was the flickering light from Brother Kane’s oil lamp, but Grim could have sworn he saw the dwarf crack a smile.

  WIGHT’S HOLLOW

  They left the Deepwood and made their way to the next dungeon on the list. Wight’s Hollow.

  ‘I ain’t dealing with no undead,’ Dog warned
the group as they entered the Moors of Misery.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Raya said. ‘If there ever was a wight in the caves there, it’s long gone now. More goblins and orcs on the menu, I suspect.’

  ‘You may have been spoilt by Deepwood,’ Gurin suggested to them. ‘Wight’s Hollow is a rather ordinary affair.’

  The Moors were wet, and the moisture found its way under cloaks and through leather, to irritate, rub and chafe the skin. Grim was not immune, his feet becoming sore from carrying a three-headed ogre around by themselves. He muttered to himself under his breath, but he knew he would get no sympathy. His brothers, Og and Dog, were immune. They had never suffered from sore feet. But if he complained, they would simply say he was lucky to have feet. And of course, they were right. So he muttered to himself, while Og slept and Dog told stories.

  ‘The last time we encountered the supernatural was a funny affair. Remember, Grim?’

  ‘Aye,’ Grim replied curtly. Maybe it was his sore feet talking, but he didn’t recall the experience as being in the slightest bit funny.

  ‘I got myself bitten. I guess that’s a whole other story, feisty little ogress she was!’

  Grim cleared his throat loudly, hoping it was enough of a signal for Dog to move on.

  ‘Anyway, turned out I got more than I bargained for. She was a werewolf.’

  ‘Really?’ Raya asked, putting a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle.

  ‘Yes. Next full moon, I turned. Spent the rest of the week trying to rip out Grim’s throat until he and Og located a witch who cured me. Remember, Grim?’

  ‘I’m hardly going to forget that, am I?’ Grim answered irritably.

  Raya wasn’t even pretending not to laugh anymore, and Assata and Sandon were joining in as well.

  ‘For some reason,’ said Grim angrily, ‘having a slavering werewolf connected to me for a week, never more than a few inches from my face, constantly trying to sink its teeth into my neck, was not a great source of amusement to me.’

  But the angrier he got, the funnier they all found it.

  It must have been a gradual change, because Grim had not noticed any particular moment when it happened, but he found he was now walking on rocks, not moorland. The ground rose steadily. A cliff face began to materialise ahead of them; it was the dull grey colour of ogre skin, but at the base was a gaping black maw, as unmistakeable an entrance to a dungeon as you might find. Unlike Deepwood Dungeon, this had all the hallmarks of a natural formation, opening onto caves that must have been occupied ever since the first two-legged beings had made their way into Gal’azu.

  They stopped by the entrance, reorganising themselves. Walking clothes were swapped for armour, and weapons were taken in hand, or at least placed within easy reach.

  ‘Well?’ Assata said, a nervousness in her voice. ‘Are we ready?’

  They followed the barbarian to the dark cavern. A large opening in the cliff was revealed, stretching back much farther than Grim could see. The roof of the cavern was higher than Og or Dog could reach with their hands, but they could have touched it with their weapons. They entered, looking about them anxiously, wary of traps or an ambush. But the cavern was quiet and the only thing Grim could see was rock.

  ‘If I remember correctly,’ said Gurin from the front of the group, ‘there is a sizeable drop coming up. We had to climb down using rope to get to the dungeon proper last time.’

  They walked a little farther before Gurin called out a warning. ‘Careful, now. We need to take a proper look around us. Let me get my torch.’

  ‘No need, friend dwarf,’ Sandon declared. ‘In the Magicians’ Tower in Quar-Del-Prin I studied the fire magic of the Ancient Lords Elemental. There I learned the implorations required to prevail upon the mighty demons of Tzitzuan to grant me the power to make fire and heat from the atmosphere around me. Should they be willing to listen and take heed of my supplications, all that is required is a click of my fingers and a flame shall appear.’ The wizard cleared his throat. ‘Oh Mighty, Haughty Demons of Tzitzuan—'

  ‘It’s alright, Sandon,’ Assata said.

  The barbarian had lit her oil lamp and she now waved it about them.

  Grim could see that the floor of the cavern did indeed suddenly end in what looked like a sizeable drop down into darkness. But he also saw some kind of wooden structure attached to the edge. ‘What’s that?’ he asked. Unable to point, Grim thrust his neck forwards until the others looked in the right direction.

  Gurin went over to look, while Assata held her lamp close by.

  ‘Oh,’ the dwarf said, sounding disappointed. ‘Someone’s built some netting onto the side of the rock. Looks like it’s been nailed in securely. If it holds, it should be easy enough to climb down. I was rather hoping that we would be using rope. More of a challenge than this.’

  ‘Or I could have used my teleportation spell,’ said Sandon wistfully. ‘Been a while since I deployed that particular tool in my armoury. It’s a shame really, because I spent a good two years perfecting its use. This was back when I lived amongst the—’

  ‘I’ll go first,’ said Assata, handing her lamp to Gurin and pulling hard at the netting to make sure it would take her weight. She swung one leg over the edge of the drop, getting her first foot secure. Then she was off, grabbing it with her hands, while her second foot explored downwards. She moved quickly, strong and agile as a cat. Gurin held the torch over the edge so they could see her. But before long she had disappeared down into the darkness and Raya had scrambled onto the netting. Nimble as a squirrel, if anything she disappeared even faster.

  Sandon and Brother Kane went next, neither of them as comfortable looking with the prospect of clinging to a rock face above what was probably a huge drop down.

  ‘Just as well I can’t see to the bottom,’ the wizard gasped, his limbs trembling.

  Brother Kane maintained his beatific smile, though in the torchlight he did look a lot paler than usual.

  ‘I would suggest,’ Grim said to Gurin, ‘that you go next. There is no knowing whether that netting can hold our weight.’

  The dwarf looked them over and nodded in silent agreement. He put out the lamp and returned it to his pack, then began scrambling down.

  Three ogre heads peered over the ledge at the netting.

  ‘Now then,’ said Og. ‘This could be something of a challenge. We’re not the most co-ordinated of creatures.’

  ‘We can do it,’ Grim assured him. ‘Slow and steady; one limb at a time. We each tell the others when we have lifted a hand or a foot off, and when it is back down. Then the next one takes his turn.’

  The three brothers had their share of disagreements and arguments. But self-preservation is a strong instinct and hanging off a sheer rock face on a flimsy-feeling piece of hemp netting helped to concentrate their minds. They worked together and they held their tempers. Perhaps just as remarkably, the netting held their weight and they reached the bottom in one piece.

  Their friends had waited for them at the foot of the rock. Grim could sense that they were in a vast chamber, even if he couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead. They left, making their way through the darkness of the underworld. The sound of boots on the floor echoed. In many places Grim found he was walking on a thick layer of guano, and the sharp smell of bat urine was pervasive.

  Gurin led them into a tunnel. There was something comforting to Grim about being closed in by walls and a roof. Assata pointed to locations farther along the tunnel—doors. The denizens of the dungeon might be close.

  They continued on, Grim doing his best to move quietly. In what was now becoming a familiar routine, Gurin and Assata stood on each side of a wooden door and silently invited Grim to burst it open. He obliged, kicking it open and entering the room at speed. It was a reasonably sized room, with an open exit on the right wall into a second room. In the gloom, Grim could make out odd bits of furniture lining the walls. Against one wall, something stirred.

  ‘Hold it!’ Assata demande
d, levelling her sword at the creature.

  It was an orc. He was seated on top of a cushion, a filthy-looking blanket wrapped about him, his back against the wall. He had a startled expression on his face and raised his arms in alarm.

  ‘Oh, you got me,’ he said in a throaty voice. ‘I must have dozed off and didn’t hear you coming.’

  ‘Anyone else around here?’ Assata demanded.

  ‘Oh, I doubt it. They’ll all have run off when they knew you were coming. Look at you, swords and bows and a great big ogre, too. No, they’ll be long gone.’

  ‘Nothing in there,’ Gurin confirmed, exiting the adjoining room. ‘We need to finish that one.’

  ‘Oh, no need for that!’ said the orc. ‘I’ve been poorly, that’s why I was dozing off here. I’m no threat to you. I’ll just stay here until you’re done. You won’t hear a peep from me. I’m Vax, by the way.’

  ‘We can’t trust orcs,’ said Gurin, brandishing his axe.

  Assata and the others looked unsure about what to do with the orc. Grim did think it would be a poor show to just kill the old thing in cold blood. But then, that was what trespassers tended to do in these situations. Kill all the residents and take the loot.

  ‘What about that piece of rope you never used?’ Og asked Gurin.

  ‘What about it?’ replied the dwarf suspiciously.

  ‘Tie him up with it.’

  ‘He’ll call out.’

  ‘Gag him.’

  ‘We came here to kill orcs, didn’t we?’ Gurin demanded.

  ‘Not really,’ said Assata, as if she had at last made a decision. ‘We came here to grab back the treasure they’ve been stealing.’

  ‘And killing people while they did it,’ Gurin countered. ‘Killing innocent humans. Women and children.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Vax. ‘That wasn’t us. You must have us mistaken with some other orcs.’