The Ogre's Pact зк-1

by Troy Denning

  Tavis nocked the last arrow he had set out, but there was no need. The shaft passed cleanly through the first ogre's throat, then ripped into the breast of the one behind. This warrior did not die instantly, but with an arrow lodged in his lung, his feeble gurgles would not alarm the beaters driving Morten and the earls up the ravine.

  The scout paused just long enough to make certain there were no more ogres lurking below, then returned to his companions and told them what had happened.

  "So now we're free to leave?" Basil asked.

  Tavis shook his head. "No, Morten and the earls are still coming up the ravine," he said. "If we go now, the ogres may drive them into the ambush yet."

  "And if we don't, whoever survives the battle will definitely attack us," Avner objected. "I say we leave our enemies to each other and go while we can."

  "Morten and the earls aren't our true enemies," Tavis replied. "They're only doing what they believe to be right. We can't condemn them for that."

  "I don't see why not," Avner grumbled. "They condemned us for a lot less."

  "We aren't leaving them to the ogres!" Tavis snapped. "Do you understand that?"

  Avner met the firbolg's gaze with an angry glare. "I understand."

  "Good," Tavis said. "Go down to the ravine and hide until Morten comes."

  "Then what?" the youth asked. "Surrender?"

  "Make sure he sees you, then lead him away from the side gulch and up the valley," Tavis instructed. "Basil and I will set up an ambush of our own. We'll pull you aside, then I'm sure Basil can do something to temporarily disable Morten and the earls." The scout cast a hopeful glance at the verbeeg.

  "I can put them to sleep for a lengthy time," Basil said.

  "Good," Tavis replied. "We'll treat the ogres less charitably."

  "What? You're not going to spare everyone who's trying to kill us?"

  Tavis scowled his reply.

  Pulling a sling from inside his tunic, Avner reluctantly started down the hill.

  Tavis shook his head in disappointment. "As much as I love that boy, I don't think he'll ever learn."

  "He's learned much already, but his teacher was cruel indifference," said Basil. "If it's any consolation, I do believe he loves you more than he loves his own life."

  "Perhaps," the scout acknowledged. "But I doubt you could say the same about his love of gold."

  With that, the scout started across the hillside, angling toward an outcropping of rocks a short distance up the ravine.

  Basil followed a step behind. "Now that we're alone, there's something I've been meaning to discuss with you."

  "Can't it wait?" Tavis asked. "This lull in the fighting won't last long."

  Basil shook his head. "I don't want to discuss it in front of the boy. Besides, it won't take long," he said quietly. "How much do you know about the Twilight Vale?"

  "I never heard of it until Runolf spoke its name."

  "That's not surprising." Basil answered. True giants consider it a sacred place. They keep it secret from all but their own kind."

  "Then how do you and the ogres know of it?"

  "I read about it in a tablet I borrowed from the stone giants," Basil explained. "As for the ogres, they clearly have their own ways. But the reason I raised the subject is what happens in the vale."

  "What?"

  "The true giants gather there once each year. The chieftains resolve their grievances in peace, the warriors drink from magical springs, and the shamans receive guiding omens from the vale's guardian, the Twilight Spirit," Basil explained. The verbeeg looked away, obviously uncomfortable, then continued. "And they conduct ceremonies of tribal union."

  "Union?" Tavis asked.

  "Matings between important members of different tribes," the verbeeg explained. "To guarantee good relations."

  "That's ridiculous!" Tavis had to restrain himself to keep his voice low. "Brianna would never mate with an ogre!"

  Basil ran a hand over his sloped brow. "Her consent wouldn't be necessary, nor did I say it was an ogre she's going to mate," the verbeeg replied. He was looking more uncomfortable by the moment. The Twilight Spirit arranges these unions for the good of all giants. Goboka might be taking her there to see a chief from any tribe."

  "A human and a giant?" Tavis scoffed.

  "It's no more ridiculous than a cloud giant and hill giant, and I've read of such unions." Basil replied. "The spirit's magic is most powerful."

  Tavis considered this for a moment, then shook his head. "It still makes no sense," he said. "Ogres aren't true giants, they're giant-kin, like you and me. Why should Goboka care what the Twilight Spirit wants?"

  "Goboka is extremely powerful for an ogre shaman, both in magic and political power," the verbeeg explained. "Who do you suppose helped him get that way?"

  "The Twilight Spirit," Tavis concluded. "And in return, the spirit received a small and stealthy ally to send after Brianna."

  Basil nodded. "There are some tasks giants just can't do-at least not if you want them done quietly."

  Tavis sighed, frustrated. "That still doesn't explain why the Twilight Spirit wants Brianna."

  Basil scowled in thought. "We already know Goboka foresaw Brianna's birth far in advance. That's why the Twilight Spirit sent the ogres to dupe Camden," the verbeeg said. "Maybe he also saw something that did not bode well for his giants."

  The scout nodded. "And Brianna is the key to protecting them," he said. "The question is, what from?"

  Basil shrugged. "My magic isn't that powerful," he said. "If you really want to know the future, you'll have to find the Twilight Spirit and ask him."

  "I'd rather find Brianna and avoid the Twilight Spirit," Tavis said. "But first, we have some ogres to ambush."

  With that, the scout lengthened his stride and did not say another word until they reached the cliff where he intended to ambush the ogres. Basil took out a brush and set to work on his sleeping rune, while Tavis climbed up the hill to keep watch.

  When the runecaster finished his symbol, there was still no sign of their quarry, so he climbed up the hill to join Tavis. They waited for several more minutes, and the scout began to fear something terrible had gone wrong with his plan. Then he finally saw Avner coming up the ravine and began to breathe easier. Tavis nodded to Basil, and they both ducked down behind a boulder to wait.

  The scout soon realized Morten and his band were not coming. Avner showed no particular concern as he ran through the forest, never looking back to check on the progress of his pursuers. Nor did Tavis detect the sound of any cracking sticks or clanging armor, both of which he would have heard in abundance if the clumsy earls had been rushing up the ravine. He tossed a rock down to catch Avner's attention, then rose and showed himself.

  Making no more noise than a good scout would have, the boy climbed the hill to join Tavis. "Morten wouldn't follow me," he reported. "I did everything but sling a rock at him, and he just ignored me."

  Tavis was puzzled by the report. Even if Morten suspected a trap, he would have followed the boy long enough to see where he was going.

  "Are you sure they saw you?" the scout asked.

  Avner nodded. "I was in a tree," he said. "I shook the branch I was sitting on, and he looked right up into my eyes. I jumped down to be sure he knew it was me and not an ogre, then I started running. He never followed."

  "Did you see where he went?" Tavis asked. "He didn't take the earls into the side gulch, did he?"

  Avner shrugged. "If he did, there's not much we can do for him now." the youth replied. "Let's get out of here before the ogres-"

  A distant clunk cut the boy off. The sound was followed by a surprised shout, then more clanging and yelling.

  Tavis started toward the sound. "I'm going to help Morten."

  "What?" Avner shrieked. "You'll get us killed."

  "Not us. You stay here. If I don't come back, hide here."

  "You can start back to Hartsvale in the morning."

  "So the king can have m
e arrested?" the youth scoffed. "No way."

  "Then go where you please," Tavis snapped. "We don't have time to argue about it now."

  The scout sprinted down the hill, his long legs carrying him across the ravine as swiftly as a wolf. Basil followed along, his heavy footfalls only slightly muffled by the thick layer of pine needles covering the ground.

  "I welcome your help, Basil," Tavis said. "But maybe you should follow at a slower pace. You won't be much good to anyone if you're too tired to fight."

  "And I'm too clumsy to take the ambushers by surprise." The verbeeg smiled at Tavis's diplomacy, then began to fade back. "I'll come as quickly as I can without alarming the ogres."

  Tavis continued forward at a sprint, guided by the clanging of armor and the angry battle cries of Morten and his companions. The ogres made no sound at all. So ingrained were their habits of stealth that they usually fought in complete silence, rarely uttering a sound except when they suffered a grievous wound-and sometimes not even then. Soon, as the scout crested the bank of the ravine, he saw the crescent-shaped rim of a box canyon on the slope ahead. Clambering among the boulders and spruces along its brink were almost two dozen ogres, all firing black arrows down into the gulch. From the panicked cries echoing from the hollow, it appeared then shafts were finding targets all too often.

  Tavis stopped just outside the range of their bows, then leaned his quiver against his knee. He did not remove any arrows from the case because once his foes realized where he was, he would have to move in a hurry.

  As the scout nocked his first shaft, an ogre suddenly clutched his breast and spun around, stumbling away from the canyon. Though the distance was too great for the scout to be certain, it looked like the fletching of a short quarrel was protruding from between the brute's bloody fingers. Apparently, the earls had their crossbows.

  Tavis took aim and fired, shooting at the ogres on the far side of the gulch first. His arrows tore through three targets before the pack realized it was being attacked, then he hit two more of the brutes as they tried to figure out where the arrows were coming from. A large warrior in a wolfskin headdress began barking commands. The scout silenced him by ripping his throat open with a well-placed arrow.

  The leader's death spurred the war party into reacting. As one, they spun and launched a volley of arrows. Without bothering to hide, Tavis killed another of bis foes before the black shafts fell out of the air, lodging in the ground about fifteen paces short of his position. The scout fired again. His arrow struck home, spinning the victim around so that he fell over the edge into the gulch. Several cheers rose from the hollow, then a flurry of bolts claimed the last few brutes on the far side of the canyon.

  Realizing the danger of being caught in a crossfire, the ogres on the near side dived away from the rim, taking shelter behind what cover they could find. There were only ten of them here, and Tavis quickly reduced that number to eight by picking out holes in their cover.

  When the sounds of battle continued to rise from inside the gorge, Tavis realized that he had solved only part of the problem by drawing the pack on the brim of the gorge away. The group that had been acting as beaters had followed Morten's party into the gulch, and no doubt still had the men pinned against the cliffs.

  That was a problem the bodyguard and his earls would have to handle by themselves. The eight survivors on top of the gulch had gathered their wits enough to begin an assault against Tavis. As the scout watched, they jumped to their feet and rushed forward.

  Tavis calmly stood his ground long enough to kill two more, then grabbed his quiver and retreated over the bank of the ravine. Once he was out of sight, he ran along the slope, silently traversing it toward the box canyon for about a hundred paces. Then, when he judged he had moved past the ogres' flank, he climbed the bank and peered over the top.

  The scout saw immediately that his maneuver had not fooled the ogres. Two of them were still moving toward where he had jumped over the bank, but the other four were nowhere in sight. They were no doubt lurking somewhere nearby, waiting for him to show himself.

  Tavis fired and ducked. He heard a muffled thump as his arrow struck its target, then several of the ambushers' shafts flew over his head. The scout grabbed a rock and threw it across the slope, hoping the sound would convince his enemies he was on the move again. Then he nocked another arrow and stuck his head up, killing the second ogre he had seen earlier.

  Two of the unseen warriors returned fire immediately, one of their arrows passing so close that Tavis felt its coarse feather brush his skull. He yelled as though wounded, then drew his sword and laid it on the slope beside him. He heard the ogres' feet pattering over the pine needles as they rushed forward to finish the kill. The scout nocked another arrow and laid the tip over the edge of the bank, not raising his head to look. Runolf had lectured him many times on the importance of using more than his eyes to pick targets, explaining that he would sometimes find himself fighting on cloudy nights or in lightless caves. It was a lesson that Tavis had learned well, and one that had saved his life more than once.

  The scout lifted his arrow slightly, as if he were rising to fire. He heard the snap of an ogre's bowstring, then a single shaft sailed overhead and disappeared into the ravine below. Tavis waited, listening to the soft steps of the approaching enemy. When it seemed they had to be almost on him, he turned the tip of the arrow toward the loudest set of footfalls and released the bowstring.

  Because of his awkward firing position, the shot was not particularly powerful, but it had force enough to create a moist thump as it sank into an ogre's abdomen. The target collapsed to the ground with a muffled thud.

  The footsteps of the victim's companions faltered. Tavis dropped his bow, then pushed the tip of another arrow above the bank. This time, the action drew the fire of two alarmed ogres. Smiling at their skittish reactions, the scout grabbed his sword and clambered over the bank. He found himself two paces away from the three surviving ogres. One was just drawing his bowstring back to fire, and the others were frantically trying to nock fresh arrows.

  Tavis twisted sideways, pushing his sword arm forward and also moving his torso out of the arrow's path. The tip of his blade slipped between the ogre's ribs in the same instant the brute released his bowstring. The poisoned arrow sizzled past the scout's breast. He lunged forward, driving his sword deeper, until foul-smelling blood began to froth from the ogre's mouth.

  Tavis stepped back and braced one foot on the warrior's hip, jerking his sword free of the dying brute. He spun around to face the last two survivors-only to discover they had nocked their arrows and were even now drawing their bowstrings to fire. The scout could kill one of them, but the other one would slay him.

  "Tavis!" screamed Avner's voice. A small stone came whispering through the air and struck one ogre in the head. The blow did not kill the warrior, but it stunned him enough to prevent the brute from completing the pull of his bowstring. "What are you doing?"

  Tavis started to slash at the other ogre, but even as the young thief spoke, a huge boulder arced down upon this brute's head. The stone struck with a crack, then thumped to the ground. The warrior's knees buckled, and he released his arrow into the air. The scout spun, using a backhand stroke to behead the ogre Avner's stone had stunned.

  "When I said go on ahead, I didn't mean you should kill all the ogres yourself." Basil dropped a second boulder he had picked up, then walked over with Avner at his side.

  "You could've gotten yourself killed," Avner complained.

  "I thought J told you to stay at the cliff," Tavis said.

  "Lucky for you I don't listen too well," the boy countered.

  Realizing he could hardly argue with the statement, Tavis retrieved his bow and quiver, then turned toward the gulch. The sounds of fighting had grown faint and sporadic, suggesting that the battle was almost at an end. Fearing that he knew who was on the losing side, the scout rushed over to the gorge's rim.

  The battle had come down to only fi
ve figures: Morten, Earl Dobbin, and three ogres. The firbolg was standing directly between two of their foes, swinging a huge, double-headed battle-axe first at one, then the other. The ogres had picked up a pair of fallen earls to use as shields, but were rapidly falling back under the bodyguard's withering attacks.

  Earl Dobbin was not faring so well. He had collapsed to one knee and was swinging his pitifully small sword at the last ogre's legs, barely managing to duck the wild swings of his foe's large club. The other earls lay scattered among fallen ogres, either dead or unconscious from the bite of poisoned arrows.

  Tavis dispatched the ogre attacking Earl Dobbin first, then quickly killed one of the brutes fighting Morten. The bodyguard finished the other himself, cleaving the warrior's heavy skull with a single, terrible blow of his battle-axe.

  The ogre had hardly hit the ground before Morten was glaring up at his savior. "Tavis!" he thundered.

  "Come down here!"

  The scout shook his head. "Not yet," he said. "Not until you and I come to an agreement."

  Morten snorted. "The only thing I'll agree to is splitting your head."

  "Really?" Tavis replied. "I should think you'd be more interested in saving Brianna-I am."

  This calmed the angry firbolg a little. "Tell me where she is," he demanded. "I'll make your death an easy one."

  Earl Dobbin rose, his face red with fury. "You don't have the right to make such an agreement!" he said, grabbing the bodyguard's burly arm. "The king sent us to bring these thieves back to Hartsvale, not to rescue his daughter!"

  Morten jerked his arm free. "Brianna was my responsibility. If I can save her by letting a few thieves die an easy death, then so be it." The firbolg continued to glare at Tavis. "Now tell me."

  "Right now, the princess is somewhere on the Needle Peak glacier with about a thousand ogres," Tavis explained. As he spoke. Basil and Avner came up to stand at his side. "They're taking her to a place called the Twilight Vale."