Og-Grim-Dog- the Three-Headed Ogre

by Jamie Edmundson

  ‘The rope,’ Assata said, holding out a hand.

  With a reluctant sigh, the dwarf handed the barbarian his rope. She tied it tightly around the orc.

  ‘If we hear you cry out or make any kind of noise, I’ll send the dwarf to get his rope back. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Vax said. ‘You’ve been very kind. Though I feel I should warn you.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘You won’t find much in the way of treasure down here.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Gurin said with a sneer.

  They left the orc behind and gave the other tunnel rooms a search. But it was just as Vax had said: no-one else was about and none of the rooms held anything of value. Indeed, they were exceedingly grubby looking, even for orcs, and it seemed obvious to Grim that these creatures had fallen on hard times.

  When they were done, they found themselves at the end of the tunnel, where it sloped and turned downwards, towards the next level.

  ‘Well, only a single orc on the whole top level,’ said Dog.

  ‘Let’s see what we find down here, before we dismiss the whole dungeon,’ said Gurin.

  But Grim thought that the dwarf didn’t sound so confident anymore.

  DISCOUNT DUNGEON SUPPLIES

  The tunnel carried them down at a gentle gradient, twisting around so that they emerged directly under the passage they had just walked through. The sight before them here, however, was very different. Instead of a narrow tunnel, there was a large open space. At the far end Grim could see the passage that led down to the next floor. But like everyone else, his attention was drawn to the centre of the open space. Brightly illuminated, a shop had been built there. To be precise, it was a branch of Discount Dungeon Supplies.

  ‘Rather odd,’ said Sandon.

  ‘This!’ Gurin said. Grim looked at the dwarf. His face had gone red and he seemed to be having trouble getting his words out. ‘This symbolises all that has gone wrong with modern dungeoneering!’ he said finally. ‘A shop! In the middle of a dungeon! What kind of soft, supine, shameless, waste of space goes shopping in the middle of a dungeon crawl? What kind of sick, consumer-obsessed society have we become?’

  He stared about him, as if someone would be able to answer the question. It seemed that no-one could, since an awkward silence followed.

  ‘Are we going to go in?’ asked Raya eventually.

  ‘Well—’ said Sandon. ‘It’s right here, so…’

  ‘Maybe we can find out some information?’ Assata suggested. ‘Obviously, we’re not going to buy anything,’ she added, looking at the dwarf a little sheepishly.

  ‘It’s alright,’ Gurin said to Og-Grim-Dog. ‘You go in with them.’ The dwarf sat on the floor and crossed his arms.

  ‘I’ll stay with Gurin,’ said Brother Kane. ‘We’ll keep a watch.’

  The rest of them entered the shop. It was well lit inside, just like the outside. Two guards were stationed there. They were heavily armoured, each carrying a spear and shield. A third man stood at the counter. Otherwise, it was empty. The shop seemed to stock everything a dungeon adventurer might need: cloaks hung on hangers; there were shoes in different styles and sizes; leather and metal armour for all parts of the body; round shields, kite shields and bucklers. There were shelves full of essentials and miscellaneous items: dried food; water bottles; backpacks; lengths of rope; flint, steel and tinderboxes; medical supplies.

  But pride of place, and the part of the shop they all gravitated to, were the weapon racks. There was every type of weapon Grim had ever heard of, and some he hadn’t, each with a different price tag. Cheap items such as staves, clubs and fire-hardened spears. Swords of different lengths and shapes, each going for eye-watering prices. Bows and a selection of arrows; slings and stones. Exotic items, such as darts, morningstars, battle hammers. They stood about for a little while, pointing things out to each other. ‘Here, Dog, look at this.’ ‘Assata, you should get one of these.’ And so on.

  For Grim, it was a bittersweet display. For while the weapons were enticing, he knew he would never get to hold one, let alone use any of them in anger.

  Eventually, the man behind the counter sidled over. ‘Anything I can help you with?’

  ‘We’re just looking,’ said Raya.

  ‘Are you the manager?’ Assata asked the man.

  ‘Indeed I am. Simon Granger, at your service.’

  The manager of the shop offered his hand and Assata shook it.

  ‘Why did they open a shop in the middle of a dungeon?’

  ‘It was my idea, actually,’ Simon replied. ‘It’s a franchise.’

  Everyone looked at him blankly.

  ‘So, I thought, why not have a store, right where adventurers such as yourselves need it? Say you lose or break a weapon? Or face some danger and wish you had a set of iron spikes, or a length of rope? Someone in your party gets injured, and needs medicine? Or, rather than having to carry all your victuals, you can pick it up conveniently here? That’s my idea. The franchise angle means that I am the owner of the store. Discount Dungeon Supplies helped me to set it up, they supply the merchandise, and in return they get a cut of the profits I make. I like to think it’s a scheme where everyone wins.’

  ‘Are you making much money?’ Grim asked him.

  Simon’s face turned a little glum. ‘Well, starting a new business is never easy. But if I start to sell some of the big-ticket items, things might pick up. Footfall is also an issue. I’m trying to make it easier for adventurers to get here.’

  ‘That netting up the rock. That was you?’ Grim asked him.

  ‘Yes. The more adventurers who make it this far, the more customers I get.’

  ‘The lights?’

  Simon pointed up at the ceiling of the shop where numerous small lights shone down at regular intervals.

  ‘Glow-worms. Supplied by head office. They really are quite something, aren’t they?’

  ‘But what about the dungeon monsters?’ Sandon asked, his features creased in puzzlement. ‘Why haven’t they destroyed this place and taken everything inside?’

  ‘Well, relations with them can be tense. Ernst and Gernot over there,’ he said, gesturing at the armed guards, ‘keep out the riffraff. I lock the place up at night.’ He paused, studying them. Grim fancied he was debating with himself whether to say more. ‘I have had to make a deal or two with some of the residents of the dungeon. Give them a cut. But again, that means everyone wins.’

  ‘And I suppose you have to pay the guards their wages?’ Assata asked him.

  ‘Yes. They mind the store and get me to and from the dungeon.’

  Grim was thinking—about their secret quest, to find out why the trespassers kept coming to their dungeon and killing orcs.

  ‘Surely, if you want to attract adventurers here, you need it filled with monsters and treasure. But the floor we just passed through was virtually deserted. And the more dungeon dwellers there are here, the more guards you would have to employ, and the more of them you would need to pay off. Something about this store doesn’t quite make sense.’

  ‘I think I understand it,’ said Assata. ‘He doesn’t want real adventurers here. Like us. He’s making a tourist dungeon. A theme park. Soon he’ll have a stable up by the entrance, with a proper road leading to it. It will be ticket entry, and the netting on the rock will be replaced by baskets with seats that get winched down to the top floor of the dungeon. The orc rooms we searched through will be converted into toilets and baby changing facilities. There’ll be snack huts everywhere. Long queues to meet an orc or a goblin while an artist draws your picture with it. Gurin was right. This is the death of real dungeon crawling.’

  They all looked at Simon. At least he didn’t try to protest. They turned to go.

  ‘Is there nothing you want to purchase?’ he asked pleadingly. ‘I could do you a group discount.’

  Assata and Sandon turned their backs on him and left the shop.

  Raya sighed. ‘You
need some food, Og-Grim-Dog?’

  ‘Ooh, yes please,’ said Dog.

  They grabbed some of the provisions and took them to the counter.

  ‘I’ll take that set of arrows, too,’ she said to Simon, and handed over the money.

  ‘Thank you for your business,’ he said.

  Og-Grim-Dog and Raya left the store to join the others. They were talking together quietly, in solemn voices. They turned at the approach of the ogre and elf.

  ‘We were thinking it might be best just to leave,’ said Assata.

  No-one argued.

  THE CRUSHED GRAPES IN URLAY

  After the elation of Deepwood Dungeon, Wight’s Hollow had been a let-down. But the company held strong. There was no talk of giving up, and instead they began to make for the third dungeon on their list.

  ‘The Sargassian Empire was one of the very first realms of men,’ said Sandon, as they left the dark maw of the cavern behind them and travelled east. ‘Old and mysterious, it fell, like all empires do, a long time ago. The Crimson Palace is a magnificent remnant of the Empire, said to have been the home of the ruling dynasty for hundreds of years. Three hundred steps take you to the top of a great mound and the entrance to the palace. Great artefacts of power have been found by those who dared to descend to the lowest levels. It is said that there are still some yet to be found.’

  ‘Is it far?’ Grim asked.

  ‘No,’ said Sandon, looking a little disappointed with the question. But the truth was, Grim’s legs were killing him. He hadn’t done this much walking for years. ‘We will be there in two days,’ the wizard answered.

  Grim made a face.

  ‘I know a place where we can stop,’ said the wizard. ‘A nice inn, by a river. Maybe we deserve a rest.’

  Gurin’s face darkened. ‘I don’t think we should be making detours.’

  ‘Come on, Gurin,’ said Assata. ‘I think we need a decent bed and a warm meal. Get our spirits up.’

  The dwarf harrumphed at that but didn’t argue. For the first time, Sandon led the group.

  ‘The village of Urlay,’ said Sandon, waving down at the valley beneath them.

  ‘What happened to it?’ asked Raya.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said the wizard, staring at the settlement.

  Grim looked down as well, but it was too far away to see much more than a smudge of buildings huddled along the river. Too far to see for most creatures.

  ‘Elven eyes,’ Dog muttered darkly.

  ‘Half the houses look damaged, if not totally shattered,’ Raya added. ‘Something unpleasant happened here.’

  They descended the valley, a shared sense of foreboding smothering any conversation. As they neared the buildings, Grim could see that several of the wooden structures had been gutted by fire. Normally, human settlements would be a hive of activity, much of it related to farming. Humans seemed to insist on carrying out various jobs related to making plants and animals grow. Grim was under the impression that plants and animals generally tended to grow by themselves, without the need for intervention, but he didn’t pretend to understand human ways. Anyway. Not a single villager could be seen.

  ‘That’s the inn,’ Sandon said, pointing at the most substantial building in the village. It still stood, taking pride of place in the village. Its spacious front yard led on to the river jetty, but there were no boats moored up.

  ‘Let’s take a look,’ Assata suggested.

  The Crushed Grapes was an attractive, stone-built affair, large enough to cater to big groups, presumably river traders. The outside of the building was unharmed—even the wooden sign, depicting a bunch of purple grapes, still swung gently in the breeze. For whatever reason, the raiders who had come here appeared to have left the inn intact. They entered the lounge area. The furniture was laid out ready for guests, though the room was empty.

  A clanging noise came from the direction of the kitchen. Looking at one another, the group headed that way. An archway led into the kitchen, where they found a lone human woman preparing food. She had her back to them and didn’t hear them come in at first. When she turned around, she gave a shriek of fear and grabbed a kitchen knife, waving it at them.

  ‘Whoah, steady now,’ said Assata. ‘We’re not here to harm you.’

  ‘What are they doing here?’ the woman said hysterically. Not unsurprisingly, her knife jabbed in Og-Grim-Dog’s direction.

  ‘Why don’t you all wait back there, while I speak to her?’ Assata suggested.

  It sounded sensible, and so the five of them retreated to the lounge. Raya investigated the bar. ‘They have wine,’ she said. Grim wondered if she was making an effort to keep her voice casual. ‘I’m sure they won’t mind us helping ourselves and leaving a payment,’ she decided.

  The elf fixed everyone a drink and they all took a seat, waiting for Assata to calm the human down. After a while, the barbarian brought the woman into the lounge with her. They were talking quietly together, though Assata managed to cast over a frown at her fellow adventurers, presumably because they were all supping The Crushed Grapes’ wine. Which wasn’t half bad.

  ‘I saw them from behind the bar, here,’ the woman was saying. She led Assata round to the serving side of the bar. ‘They were down by the river. No-one else had seen them. But this side of the bar is raised, see? And I caught a glimpse of their heads.’

  ‘Whose heads?’ Sandon asked, sounding intrigued.

  The woman looked across at Sandon, nervous looking.

  ‘This is Betty, the landlady,’ said Assata.

  ‘I know. Hullo Betty. I’m Sandon. I’ve been a guest here before. You might remember me?’

  Betty shrugged. ‘Maybes.’

  ‘Whose heads did you see?’ Sandon asked, keeping his voice light.

  ‘The orcs.’

  ‘Orcs did this?’ Grim asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said the woman.

  ‘And what did everyone in the inn do?’

  ‘We got the cellar door open and hid inside. Got all the children and old ones in first, then we decided we’d all hide down there.’

  ‘And the orcs didn’t visit the inn?’ Grim asked. ‘They just went for the houses?’

  ‘Orcs are cowards,’ Gurin said dismissively. ‘They’ll have bypassed the inn, thinking they might meet too much resistance here.’

  ‘Where’s everyone now?’ Sandon asked the woman.

  ‘My husband and most of the menfolk set off downriver for Dorwich City. There’s a reeve there who might raise a force and come here to help. That was over a week ago now. Left me here to look after the kids and the poorly. They’re still down in the cellar, too scared to come up. I have some help, but it’s been hard. And I’m fearing in case them orcs come back!’

  Assata gave the landlady a reassuring pat on the shoulder. The conversation drifted on to other things, but the exchange stuck with Grim. He wandered out of The Crushed Grapes for some fresh air.

  ‘I know that face, Grim,’ said Og, looking at him. ‘It’s your thinking face.’

  ‘Queen Krim asked us to find out why the orcs of Darkspike Dungeon were being targeted,’ Grim began. ‘And this kind of thing might explain it.’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Dog, knocking back the last of his wine. ‘What else might a king’s reeve, with a posse of thirty-odd men do, but go and take it out on the orcs from the nearest dungeon?’

  ‘Yes. But something doesn’t feel right. Queen Krim told us her orcs were too weakened to go out raiding. And think of what we found at the Deepwood and Wight’s Hollow. Not enough orcs there, either, to risk something like this.’

  ‘True, Grim,’ Og said. ‘I knew you were thinking.’

  ‘And not only that,’ said Grim. ‘The orcs who raided this village ignored the inn, where they were sure to find all the drink and food and travellers with their possessions? Instead, they target the houses of the ordinary village folk—you wouldn’t expect to find much of value there, would you? Doesn’t seem like normal orc behaviour to me
.’

  ‘Now you mention it, Grim,’ Dog said, ‘it is all starting to sound kind of suspicious. What are you thinking then? Some kind of conspiracy going on, eh? The government, probably. Possibly aliens, too.’

  ‘Well,’ said Grim, ignoring the last comment, ‘something doesn’t feel right, that’s all. I haven’t managed to work out what it is yet, though.’

  Dog sighed. ‘For a second there, Grim, I thought you were gonna solve the case, and it would be all dramatic and exciting. But all you’ve got is ‘something don’t feel right’. Come on, let’s get back inside, can we? There’s still some of that wine left and if we don’t keep an eye on it, that elf will guzzle the lot.’

  But Grim wasn’t yet ready to return to the inn. He walked over to the riverbank. This was where the landlady had seen the orc raiders and there might still be clues here.

  Just as the thought crossed his mind, a metallic glint caught his eye. There was something buried in the mud of the riverbank.

  ‘Fetch that out for me, will you Og?’ he asked once he had walked over to take a closer look.

  ‘Ouch!’ said Og as he grabbed at it. ‘It’s sharp!’

  Og now dug around the buried item until he was able to pull it up without cutting himself.

  ‘A knife?’ Dog asked.

  ‘I would say more like a sword, if we are talking orc-size,’ said Og, wafting the weapon about. It had the distinctive broad-headed blade favoured by orcs. But the hilt was intricately made, with a curved cross-guard and a striking red grip.

  ‘An interesting item,’ Grim commented.

  Dog rolled his eyes. ‘Come on, Grim. Investigating conspiracies is fun as far as it goes. But I have already mentioned that my wine cup is empty.’

  Reluctantly, Grim returned to the inn. Dog was right, he hadn’t solved a mystery. Hadn’t even got close. But still. He knew he was on to something.

  INTERMISSION

  The Landlord knew how to tell a story and he knew how to judge an audience. This was an audience that needed a toilet break halfway through, and so he paused the story for a little while. And why not take a few orders while he did so? The drinkers at the Flayed Testicles agreed with one another that listening to this story was thirsty work.