They are not adventurers. It's a group of peasants who saw you coming here days ago. One of them has convinced the others to try their hands at monster hunting, it would seem.
"Good, good," said the brute in his dark quarters.
Go and meet them at the entrance. There's no sense wasting the traps. What was he saying? Something inside Mertho knew these were just common men, with families and lives they were trying to lead in the most peaceful way possible. Yet, a cold feeling washed away every attempt at such sentiment. It was as though a force field was wrapped around his conscience, not letting him deal with the burden of compassion. He would be afraid of that, but later, once he had more magical energy to work with.
17
Hamish was talking to his men, his brave monster hunters who would soon find glory and put a stop to this cursed beast's reign of terror. Out at the entrance to the cave, no one had set even one foot any closer into the cave tunnel. "You mean to say this thing is slow?" one was asking Smithy, the man who'd seen the ogre walking.
"Yes. It walked like an old man, taking its time and lumbering along. Do you suppose it would be able to catch us with such great, gangling arms and legs?"
"You said it didn't even carry a weapon. Our ancestors have taken down great, slow, dumb animals since the dawn of time," said the red-bearded man, Hamish. "Why should we be any different? We're modern men, hard workers with the muscle to show for it, and there are ten of us as well! Now, are we gonna kill this stupid giant?"
The group let out a cheer and put their assorted weapons up to the air, letting them clatter together against each other.
"Kill the giant!"
"We'll take its head!"
"Death to the dumb brute!"
"MAN DUMB!" came a bellowing voice from the cave entrance as the creature rose out from the relatively minuscule hole in the side of the hill. There wasn't much flat ground around the cave, with either rock or rising earth around the group. Half of them scattered immediately, or they tried to at least. The rising and falling surface of the hill was grassy, with loose soil and tall weeds around patches of jutting rock. It did not make for a good getaway. The one standing closest to the ogre was poor Smithy.
As Thark charged out, he swung his right arm and caught the man's entire head in one grossly oversized palm, with a dense smacking sound. The beast followed through with his strike, now with Smithy's head neatly grasped in his hand, and sent the man face-first into the rim of the cave entrance. His skull didn't so much break apart as it did flatten, leaving only a rubbery casing of human flesh and skin around it to flex partially back outward as the ogre discarded the body to his side.
The screams of fear from the remaining nine would-be monster hunters were nearly drowned out by the demonic roar that Thark let out. Head back, neck bared and vibrating, drool globules exploding as the unnatural sound burst forth from his extreme maw. It wasn't something any man or woman could heart without quaking.
"Gather your courage, men!" called Hamish. He had to run away from where the ogre had suddenly appeared, but only far enough to be sure he was clear of the thing's reach and of being easily chased down. The way it had squished poor Smithy's head like that was sickening. Hamish though had seen worse during his extended stint in the military, so he was able to stay collected.
The others, well that was a different matter.
"Run for it!" screamed out a young farmhand whose name Hamish hadn't gotten. The cowardly cry was echoed by several of the others, but none of them fled completely, not yet. They got the hell out of the hidden rocky area right by the cave entrance though.
"He won't come far from his cave! Get away from it!" called out one of the other younger men.
"How do you think it walked here then?" shouted back Hamish.
The ogre didn't move away from the cave. Instead, it dragged the flat-headed body of Smithy farther into the opening and lurked there in the shadows. A cracking sound came, then a ripping of both cloth and meat. It was eating Smithy, for certain.
Hamish had his sword readied, and knew how to use the thing damn well. He was still some years away from losing his fighting ability. "Get back here, you cowards. Are you not men?" he called. "There are nine of us and only one of it!"
"He's right, come on!" shouted another man, edging back closer to where Hamish was standing. Once they had regrouped, the bunch of them stood at about twenty yards, on the raised area of hill surrounding the crags by the cave entrance.
Hamish had seen horrors during his time at war, men being decapitated, hacked to pieces, trampled by steeds and beasts of war, even ripped apart by attack dogs and other beasts. But this was something different. The ogre's eyes were glinting in the half shadows like it must have been staring at them from inside.
"Can you hear that?" asked a young laborer who'd just moved to the city. "He's laughing at us."
True enough, there was a muffled sound, a mouth full of human flesh, laughing to itself while chewing.
"Are we going to let Smithy's death be in vain?" asked Hamish quietly, hoping the monster's hearing wasn't overly keen. "We went through this, the formation. Get into ranks of three and get ready to charge when I say. Any of you who runs away this time, you'll never be able to show your face in this city again. I'll make damn sure of that. Got it?"
"Aye."
"Yes."
"Okay."
Most of them just grunted.
Only half sure his men were going to follow through with the attack, Hamish decided to have some faith. "You want some fancy adventuring company to come through and get all the glory? Not to mention all that gold as the reward? Stay tough, don't back down, and go for the kill?"
The men confirmed they were ready again, with more enthusiasm this time.
"Ready. NOW!" Hamish raised his sword and began to rush forward. The group stayed tightly together, leaving just enough space between them to move without stumbling on each other’s feet. It was impressive how cohesive they were, and strong from hard work too.
"Pitchforks at him first!" Hamish ordered, and the men with their pitchforks as weapons stuck them up and forward so the sharp tips of the prongs would be the first things to meet the ogre.
The beast was still hunched over in the cave in the darkness, unmoving and hard to make out as they rushed closer.
When the group of men reached it, pitchforks and blades ready, it suddenly jumped back, low on its haunches in the low ceiling of the cave entrance. They moved inside the start of the tunnel, and the darkness shrouded them like a funeral veil.
It took too long for Hamish's ageing eyes to adjust. A swooping rush of air ended in the monster grabbing at the pitchforks and taking hold of one of them—no, two of them. They were both hauled towards the beast, yanking their owners with them as though they were speared fish by the lakeside. As the darkness faded quickly, eyes adjusting, the sight was ungodly.
The ogre seemed to grow larger inside the confined space. It had hold of two of the men, unseen faces like strangers now in the dark, and chomped a mangled chunk from one of them somewhere high up, maybe from his neck or shoulder. The poor soul screamed like a boy as the smell of hot blood filled the air.
It slammed that man into the side of the tunnel, then snapped the other one's neck, turning his head around to face behind himself. That was a saving grace in comparison to what the ogre had done to the first of the two, who remained on the ground screaming and sputtering as his life drained from him.
"Fresh corpses for the Life Killer!" it yelled out. Hearing it speak a language of man was almost as terrifying as the bloody carnage that was taking place. It was intelligent and now had them all just where it wanted them.
"Kill it!" shouted Hamish. He was afraid there was no turning back now. Running would mean being chased down anyway. That didn't stop the men at the back of the group from dropping their weapons and fleeing as quickly as possible. Some of the stronger willed men remained, pushing forward slowly. Not one of them landed a hit on the beas
t.
"Dumb, dumb, dumb," taunted the ogre as Hamish charged it with his sword, ready to take its heart. He almost got there too, he was sure of it. The blood pumping through his heart was as pure as his intentions, but he took a fist to the face and hit the floor. It was some time before he felt like the light was coming to take him away from that darkness, and the pain was worse than he had ever imagined it could be. The ogre treated the fallen like a smorgasbord board, sampling from this one and that, like fresh dishes of rare meat and sinew.
Hamish was already missing several of his organs before he finally faded away.
18
Mertho had not only watched the gruesome battle but had sensed every last bit of it. As though he was sitting inside the ogre's brain, viewing the whole thing from within his eyes. He could feel everything through its gangly fingertips, and could even savor the taste of the dying meat. Only, the wizard had not savored one bit, let alone been able to enjoy the victory for more than a passing moment. And that was just before the true horror of what he was taking part in took hold of his still morally upward brain.
This was barbarism at its most foul, the stuff of nightmares. He would have had to be an evil god or some kind of demon to enjoy what was happening. That's why Mertho detached himself quickly after the men had all fled, or fallen to the ogre.
Take the corpses away from the entrance, he told Thark. Take them to your lair, but first, I must have my own feast.
"You eat men? Where is your body, teeth, stomach to eat?" the ogre questioned with a full mouth, gnawing away on a chunk of gristle with a grinding crunch. The beast seemed to enjoy the parts that offered him something to really get his teeth stuck into, over the softer parts that were typically favored on animals by their human owners and slaughterers.
In a way, yes. Mertho began to absorb the life energy of the dead men, and the run was exhilarating. After his first foray into the world of draining the very life essence of humans, it was hard to have gone so long without it. Watching the ogre fight for him, the wizard had felt weak and helpless.
First was the red-bearded man who'd bravely faced off against the ogre with nothing but an old sword and his courage. That had ended with a humiliating punch to the face that had downed the older man. The ogre then continued to maim and take down the rest of the young men who the red-bearded leader had convinced to try their hands at hunting monsters.
Mertho could sense that he knew full well this was all his fault, but being slowly eaten to death was far too much punishment for only wanting to lead the group to glory and riches. The cold, detached lust for violence waned easily in the dungeon core, even though he was no longer human himself. Righteousness had an ugly side, and that was forgotten too easily by those who had never actually been on the front lines on a battlefield. Killing could do grand things, but the method was disgusting and callous.
"You eat?" asked the ogre with great confusion. "What lights?"
I absorbed his life force. I no longer need the corpse. The life forces of the others were also coming to him, one, two, five in total.
"Pretty," said the ogre in awe.
Wait, what's going on here? How many men did you end up killing? Did the rest escape?
"Only, ugh, this many," Thark said, raising a hand in front of him and holding out three fingers, while the rest of the digits on that hand were busy holding a hunk of floppy flesh with the skin dangling from it, all hairy and bloody.
There should be four more for me to drain, nearly double what I have just received. They must still be breathing. Make sure you have killed all of them, ogre.
"All dead," replied the brute, still eating. "Know dead, smell dead. You sense dead?"
Yes, they are dead as far as I can tell, but there must be something wrong! Check them again immediately! The wizard's ire rose steadily, rapidly. He had not been expecting anything to go wrong with such an intensely blissful feeling. Being filled with the power is what he'd been expecting to make his guilt subside. It was still there, that nagging mortal feeling like he'd done something wrong. This was an abhorrent scene, but the power of a god would justify it!
You've been eating the vital organs from these corpses. And you've eaten so much! That must be what's stopping me from draining them. You stupid ogre! Mertho had no fear now, he was too pumped up with the new energy he did have, but enraged from what he was still lacking, to care that the ogre might be able to easy destroy his dungeon core if it was provoked.
"You did not say, you need human meat." It sounded like a scolded child, which was the reaction the wizard had been hoping for.
You can't eat the corpses like that anymore. From now on, you can only eat them after I've taken their energy. Do you understand?
"Yesh, wizard. Not problem." Quietly, the ogre continued to eat, but there was a lack of vigor from it. Whereas just moments earlier it had been reveling in the wake of its murder while it feasted, it now chewed slowly and seemed to be waiting for something terrible to happen to it.
That was probably for the best. Mertho didn't want to make the ogre think it could ever get away with going against his wishes. Keeping it in a healthy amount of fear was a good idea.
19
Tehra was as nervous as hell when she arrived back in the city at last. Seeing that ruined wagon and the monstrous claw marks that had been left on the wood, had made her paranoid. For the rest of the journey, she looked over her shoulder and all around twice as much as she would normally have while traveling. Fantastic images of creatures she had only heard of in legends were haunting her mind. Giant heads with snarling jaws ready to devour her in one go; slithering beasts that were the stuff of saurian legends, covered in spines and scales that no weapon of steel could penetrate; wings flapping furiously as beasts many times the size of a warhorse plummeted down from the clouds above and whisked her body up to carry her away and shred her to pieces for their wretched young ones waiting in nests, nestled up in faraway cliff tops.
It made the journey most unpleasant, and Tehra's heartbeat was raised for the whole time. The plus side to this was that she arrived before the sun had set, and it was only just late in the afternoon. The regular stores were still open, as were many of the more specialized businesses. This meant she would be able to start looking for some work right away. Becoming a simple shop keeper's assistant was not in her mind, not that anyone would hire a twenty-six-year-old elf—practically a baby by elven standards, but getting too old for entry-level jobs by human standards—not one who didn't even have some basic work history. Actually, Tehra did have work history, just nothing that she'd be able to share with anyone who had even surface-level respect for the law.
But her skills as a thief and a street urchin before that might be of use to certain types of businesses: mercenary companies, or perhaps even something a little more above board, like a legitimate adventuring company. As Tehra walked through the primary business district of the city, she started to wonder if maybe she had what it took to join one of those companies. There were so many different storefronts, but nothing was new to her since she had spent her life in the city up until a year ago.
Most of the sword-for-hire types of businesses were located around the same area, not far from the auxiliary city guard's headquarters. This allowed the guards to keep an eye on these places, to make sure they weren't getting up to no good, or planning to take part in some kind of takeover of the city's government. It also made it easy for the guards to get the word out when there was a reward offered for wanted criminals, or if there was going to be a battle and the region was short on fighting men.
Sometimes, and it had not happened much in the city's relatively prosperous history, the people revolted or rioted. The government often chose to enlist the help of third-party groups to help deal with the more 'hands on' aspects of such civil unrest. This kept the city guards, or even the military men in barracks, from needing to get the blood of the people on their own hands. It made for better relations between the people and the local
law and order when the latter hadn't killed friends and family members of the former.
Tehra thought about all of these things as she walked around, letting her knowledge of the underbelly of the city wash through her mind. It was helping her to stay calm, oddly enough. Thinking about anything but whatever monster was out there, and that wizard and his bizarre magical skull atop that altar beneath the hills.
She was tired though, and her feet hurt a great deal. The boots she was wearing were well made, but had needed some repairs done months earlier. Of course, she never had the money to pay for them to be mended. So, she just did her best to cobble them, failing mostly in her attempt. Her stomach rumbled again, and the idea of just finding some menial work, for now, seemed tempting.
There were so many eateries, inns, and sellers of produce that it wouldn't be difficult for her to get a job with one of the businesses. It was common for good-looking young women to be put up front to deal with the customers. It did good to have a pretty face for people to talk to. Then, there were the sleazy business owners who used such practices. Tehra was likely to wind up putting her knife in another fat merchant if she went into customer service.
And she wasn't going to haul sacks of goods around like some common human! Tehra came up to one adventuring company that had always interested her. They said that it was the very same one that had dealt with the fabled disappearing dark wizard all those years ago when she was a child. The building was quite large, located in between a dry goods store and a weaponsmith. It was in the block of buildings with the majority of the other adventuring companies and mercenary guilds, but stood out in several ways.
The building was well maintained and must have cost a lot to build in the first place. Tehra couldn't imagine how much such a place would cost to rent, and if it was owned by the company, they were even more affluent. She'd heard of the owner and seen him around; she knew what type of man he was. Unless he was a master at keeping some seedy private life secret, he was actually a good and honorable man who treated his employees well. This was rare for anyone in such a line of business. What was ever rarer, was a good, trustworthy person who actually managed to prosper in that line of work. Without doubt, he had to be among the very best of the company owners, or he would have taken a dagger in the back decades earlier.
The Wizard (Dungeon Core Book 1) Page 9
