In the Company of Ogres

by Martinez A. Lee

  The office door opened before Gabel could creep back under his desk. He sprang to his feet. “Dropped my pen,” he explained before even looking up.

  It was Ralph and Ned. The ogre clutched Ned by the neck. One squeeze of those fingers would crush Ned’s spine. Ned seemed to know, judging by how stiffly he squirmed in Ralph’s grasp.

  “What are you doing?” asked Gabel.

  “We gotta talk,” said Ralph. “About him.” He lifted Ned like a kitten and shook the human’s fragile form. Ned sputtered.

  Gabel leaned on his desk. “You idiot. You were supposed to leave me out of this.”

  “That’s what we gotta talk about.”

  Ned was turning blue. Ralph casually tossed Ned, gasping and choking, into a chair in the corner. “Stay put, sir.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Ned breathlessly.

  “Quiet, sir,” said Gabel, “this doesn’t concern you.”

  Ralph imitated the small ore’s leaning posture. The ogre’s weight threatened to mash the desk. “I’ve been thinking ...”

  Gabel groaned. He hated it when minions started thinking. When would everyone finally realize how much easier life would be if they left the thinking to him?

  “What’s in this for me?” asked Ralph.

  “I would think that would be obvious,” said Gabel. “You don’t like Ned.”

  “Yeah, so? I don’t like lots of guys. Killing one asshole doesn’t really make my life easier.”

  Ned rose from the chair as if to bolt for the door.

  “Don’t make me break your legs, sir,” admonished Ralph.

  Ned sat down.

  “As I was saying, I’m taking all the risks here, and you’re getting all the perks. Doesn’t seem like a good deal to me. I think it’s time to renegotiate.”

  Gabel chuckled. “You idiot. There’s nothing to renegotiate now. Ned knows you were planning to kill him, and now he knows I’m in on it too. If he walks out of this office, we both hang. We’re both in this together now, and you have every bit as much to lose as I do. The first rule of negotiation is you’ve got to have something of worth or at least the illusion of something of worth, and you’ve got nothing.” He grinned smugly. “Now kill him like you were supposed to so we can figure out what to do with the body.”

  Ralph grinned back. “Oh, I’ve got something.”

  He grabbed the desk in both hands and with one swift motion, cracked it across his knee. The splinters exploded in the room, driving a few choice wedges into the walls, toppling books, knocking down the curtains, and splitting one of Gabel’s collection of dwarf skulls. One shard nearly skewered Ned through the eye. Another came dangerously close to piercing Gabel’s foot. Several shards drove themselves into Ralph’s thick skin, piercing his cheek, neck, and brow. Blood trickled, but Ralph seemed not to care.

  Gabel and Ned gulped.

  Ralph dropped the shattered halves of furniture. “See, the way I got it worked out, I’m not going to be in more trouble for breaking two officer necks than one. So we aren’t negotiating for Ned’s life. We’re talking about yours.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” said Gabel. “Hey, you said it yourself: I don’t like Ned. And I don’t like you either. Truthfully I suspect you’re every bit the asshole he is. Probably a little more of one.”

  Gabel snarled. He bent and grabbed a Furniture Requisition from the paperwork lying all across his office floor. Bit of good luck that one happened to be on top. But Ralph’s devious nature was a bit of bad fortune. Gabel would have to be more careful when choosing his minions in the future.

  “What do you want then?”

  “I want to stop digging graves, but I want to keep getting paid for it,” replied Ralph. “And I want free beer. Maybe some new boots.”

  “Is that it?”

  Ralph realized perhaps he wasn’t the shrewd negotiator he’d first thought. He knew killing Ned for Gabel should be worth a lot, but Ralph was damned if he could put a solid value on it. And he was a very simple ogre with very simple needs. He would’ve been happy with all the previously mentioned items, but that Gabel seemed untroubled by their request told Ralph he hadn’t asked for enough. The ogre plumbed the depths of his mind, but it was a very shallow metaphoric pool, and he struck his metaphoric head on the metaphoric rocks at the bottom and was momentarily stunned.

  As for Ned, he was slightly insulted by the exchange. He liked to think his life was worth more than a new pair of boots. The indignity spurred him to think of escape again. He wouldn’t let the universe die over a bottomless mug of ale. He didn’t move just yet. Ralph was poised too near the only exit. Ned hoped when an opportunity came he’d spot it in time.

  “Anything else?” asked Gabel impatiently.

  “No, I guess not.” Ralph snapped his fingers, though the meatiness of the digits produced more of a loud slap than a snap. “Wait. I’d like a girlfriend. Can you requisition one of those?”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Are you satisfied now?”

  Ralph considered asking for more things, but the only other request that came to mind was some sort of magic sword. He didn’t know if Gabel could get one of those, and Ralph didn’t feel right asking for it anyway. Killing Ned would be far too easy. He couldn’t in good conscience demand much more for the job.

  Ned dashed for the door. He attempted to duck past Ralph’s iron grip, but the office was so small and the ogre so large that there wasn’t enough room. Ralph caught Ned by the arm and tossed him back in the chair.

  “What if you’re wrong about this?” asked Ralph. “What if Ned comes back again?”

  Gabel knew he wasn’t wrong. Ned’s fear was apparent, and an immortal had no use for fear. But Gabel had not advanced this far through sloppy assassination, and he couldn’t be absolutely sure Ned would remain dead. That was why he’d wanted Ralph to slay the commander. If Ned rose again, Gabel would have plausible deniability. Now that wasn’t an option.

  “We’ll bind and gag the corpse and hide it someplace private,” said Gabel. “We’ll feed him to the rocs if we have to. Shouldn’t be anything left to rise after that.”

  “Works for me,” agreed Ralph.

  “Wait,” said Ned. “You can’t do this. If you kill me, I’ll destroy the universe.”

  “Not that again,” sighed Ralph. “You’re going to have to come up with a more believable lie than that.”

  Ned shouted for help as the shadow of the ogre fell across him. It was no use. There was far too much racket going on outside. The thudding footsteps of Kevin alone were enough to drown out most noise. Ned kicked and punched at Ralph with no effect. The ogre wrapped his thick hands around Ned’s face, muffling any screams.

  “I bet if I rip off his head he’ll stay dead,” said Ralph.

  “Don’t do that,” replied Gabel. “Too messy. Just break his neck and get it over with.”

  “That’s not much fun.”

  Ned squirmed and twisted. His hands clawed at Ralph. His legs kicked out to bounce harmlessly off the ogre’s ribs.

  “You’re not doing it for fun,” said Gabel. “Just finish him off.”

  Ned’s teeth found purchase in a meaty mound of flesh in Ralph’s palm, one of the few sensitive areas in his thick-skinned body. Ralph yelped and dropped Ned. He ducked between the ogre’s legs and scrambled for the door. Gabel jumped in the way and kicked Ned across the face. Ned crumpled, and Gabel drew his sword.

  “For crying out loud, do I have to do everything myself?”

  Ned glanced up at the sword raised to behead him. He didn’t think Miriam would be saving him this time.

  “Uh, Gabel,” said Ralph.

  Gabel refused to be distracted any longer. He didn’t turn around, and so he didn’t see what Ned and Ralph saw. A single roc eye glared through the window.

  “Neeeeeeeeeed!” shrieked Kevin as she shoved her head through the wall. Ralph scrambled to one side of the cramped office, barely avoiding being skewered by the roc’s barbed beak. Ned curled
in a ball, the most effective means of defense at his disposal.

  Kevin snatched up Gabel in her toothy beak and withdrew her head to get a better look at her latest morsel in the sunlight. She discovered with some disappointment it was not Ned. But it was the largest, juiciest goblin she’d ever come across. Only after she’d slurped him down did she notice the unsatisfying orcish flavor. Her hideous face twisted into an unusually gruesome sneer, she shrieked and dragged her tongue across the cobblestones, scraping away the clingy bits of ore aftertaste.

  Ned and Ralph had put aside their differences and now sought to take advantage of the distraction to escape. The roc’s body blocked the hole in the wall, and a mound of rubble blocked the door.

  Kevin thrust her head back into the office.

  “Get out of my way!” Ralph shoved Ned aside and prepared to break down the door with a thrust of his shoulder. Instead he got his head nipped off by Kevin’s clumsy beak. Ralph’s ogre nervous system locked his corpse into instant upright rigidity, and the exit was rendered more blocked than before.

  Kevin lunged and pushed harder, and the wall buckled and bits of ceiling fell as inch by inch she moved closer to Ned frozen in the corner. If the roc were only a bit smarter, she could’ve dropped to her belly and easily angled in to snag him. But it was only a matter of moments.

  Ned laughed: a derisive cackle at the forces of fate that seemed so damned determined to see him dead. If he wasn’t the Mad Void now, he was at least mad. But he was a madman with a purpose. He would be damned if he’d willingly slide down Kevin’s throat. He’d fight all the way down, and if possible he’d give her a good kick in the ass as she excreted him.

  Gabel’s sword was lodged between two of her wicked teeth. The hilt pointed out at him, and it waggled as she snapped her jaws. Ned, heedless of any danger, reached for it. It came loose almost as soon as he touched it and seemed to fall into his hand. By some miracle he managed not to lose a limb to the crushing beak.

  The blade wasn’t long enough to reach the roc’s vitals. Surprising himself most of all, Ned pounced on Kevin’s beak between snaps. He took hold of one of her nostrils with his free hand, and growling, she pulled her head out of the office.

  The beast’s eyes were on the side of her face. She twisted her head side to side to get a better view of the prey stubbornly clinging to her beak. Ned raised the sword and hacked at Kevin’s face. The angle was awkward; most of his strength was invested in tight, whitened knuckles. The blows penetrated the flesh only to bounce off the monster’s thick skull. Finally through sheer luck and persistence he managed to plunge the blade into the roc’s eye. The angle was just right and the sword just long enough to pierce Kevin’s three-ounce brain.

  The realization of her death took a moment to reach the rest of her body. Kevin swayed. She coughed. Her eye glazed. Her feathers ruffled, and her legs wobbled. With one last horrid gasp, the roc tumbled over and collapsed on the ruins of Gabel’s office.

  Buried, barely able to draw breath in the overwhelming, sooty darkness, Ned nevertheless chuckled. He was alive. He’d cheated death. For once the icy touch of oblivion had been put off. For once Ned had won. He might suffocate in the next moment, but that seemed someone else’s problem just now.

  He heard digging above him. A stone was flung aside to shine sunlight in his face.

  “Is this him?” asked one of the shadows over him.

  “The pendulum,” said another. “See how it burns.”

  Hot stone pushed against Ned’s forehead. His skin smoldered, and he smelled smoke, but he didn’t feel any pain.

  They lifted him roughly from the rubble. His eye adjusted. They weren’t soldiers, but lanky, purple-skinned, winged creatures with small horns jutting from their brows.

  Demons.

  Ned was too tired to struggle. He had nothing left. Whatever last portions of vigor he’d possessed were buried somewhere under Kevin’s ten-ton corpse. One of the demons tossed Ned over his shoulder. They spread their wings and took to the air.

  Demons filled the sky. Dozens upon dozens of the flying monsters. He squirmed, but there could be no escape. And even if he did manage to slip free and avoid the dozens of hands that tried to catch him, he’d fall to his death. Either way, fate had beaten him. As it always did.

  Ogre Company milled underneath him. Regina shouted his name, but he couldn’t pick her out of the crowd. Soon the demons had taken him beyond the walls of Copper Citadel.

  The last thing he noticed was Nibbly Ned. The vulture perched atop a tower, watching Ned’s abduction with cold, black eyes and an almost clinical detachment. And Ned laughed. And he kept on laughing, though he couldn’t say why.

  Twenty-seven

  THE DEMONS CARRIED Ned not very far. Copper Citadel had just disappeared over the horizon as their destination appeared. It was a fortress of black stone and glittering jade. He would’ve sworn Copper Citadel was the only outpost in a hundred miles, but then he saw this new fortress had great, stony legs like those belonging to a thousand-foot elephant. Flocks of demons orbited the Iron Fortress, and Ned expected to be torn to pieces by the hungry monsters.

  The demons parted. A portcullis opened, and Ned was whisked into the darkened fortress. He couldn’t see much, but he smelled a foul concoction of urine, smoke, and putrid flesh. It smelled of ugly death, an odor he knew all too well.

  His captors threw him roughly to the floor. New hands seized him. Claws sank into his shoulder. Blood ran down his arm.

  “Is this him?” The voice was deep and possessed a quality of diction as if the speaker had practiced the sentence a thousand times in front of a mirror to insure that every nuance of lip and tongue was absolutely flawless. The feat was all the more impressive because the monster who held him lacked anything in the way of lips.

  The demon was a bulging abomination. Muscles squirmed atop its muscles, yet it was grotesquely fat at the same time. It reminded Ned of an ogre, though infinitely more repellent. It was entirely naked save for thick hair all over its body that gave it the illusion of clothing, and a black executioner’s hood draped over its relatively tiny head. There was a hole cut to show its toothy, lipless mouth, but none for its eyes. How it saw, Ned couldn’t fathom.

  “Scrawny little thing, isn’t it?” asked the executioner.

  “Just throw him in the cell,” said one of the purple demons.

  The executioner dragged Ned into a darker part of the dungeon. Baleful green torches cast a dim light, and the flickering shadows had faces twisted in agony. There were things in the other cells. Ned heard them crying, screaming, growling, breathing. Scratching softly at their prison doors. He didn’t speculate on what they might be. They reached his cell, a long thin room littered with bones, none of which appeared human. There was another green torch set high in the wall. Its light was cold, and Ned could see the frost of his breath. The executioner locked manacles around Ned’s wrists. Ned slumped to the floor defeated. The short chains kept him from falling all the way. The demon lifted Ned’s chin. “Don’t look like much, do you?”

  If the executioner’s breath was rotten, it was no more rotten than the rest of the dank, fetid air. He snorted again and spat. The saliva froze in midflight and shattered against the floor. He lumbered away without saying another word.

  Ned hung in the darkness. Occasionally his bad left arm twitched. Sometimes it yanked at its bonds. The chains rattled. The other prisoners cackled and whispered.

  “What’cha in for, buddy?” asked the occupant of the next cell. His voice was dry and menacing. There was a small hole in the wall that allowed him to peep through with a single, bloodshot eye.

  “Destroying universes,” replied Ned. “You?”

  “Littering.”

  Ned raised his head skeptically.

  “Littering the ground with the corpses of my enemies,” clarified the prisoner. His red eye glowed sinisterly.

  “What are you?” asked Ned.

  “I don’t know. I think I used to k
now, but I’ve been here so long I’ve forgotten. You’ll forget too. Eventually.”

  Harsh, humorless laughter filled the dungeon.

  “I won’t be here that long,” said Ned.

  More laughter.

  “That’s what I said.” Something, perhaps a sword or claws or fangs, scraped against the wall. The eye vanished from the crack. “At least I think that’s what I said.”

  At some point Ned fell asleep. Or maybe he just thought he did. Something touched his wounded shoulder. He didn’t have the strength to even yelp.

  “Sir, are you okay?”

  Ned raised his head with considerable effort and came face-to-face with an ugly, big-nosed demon with pock-marked skin.

  “Go away,” mumbled Ned. “Or kill me. I don’t care which.”

  The demon whispered. “Sir, it’s me.”

  Ned squinted.

  “It’s me, Seamus.” The demon leaned closer. “Private Seamus.”

  Ned couldn’t place the name.

  Seamus glanced around to make sure the coast was clear before transforming back into his goblin self.

  “That’s a neat trick,” said the prisoner in the next cell.

  Ned’s addled memory worked slowly. He didn’t remember Seamus’s name, and all goblins looked alike to him. But shapeshifting was just enough of a distinction to earn some recollection.

  “I saw them take you away, sir,” said Seamus, “and I decided to follow, see what I could do. I was a little worried at first that I might not be able to fool them, but nobody pays much attention to grunts. Not even in demon armies, I guess.”

  He checked the chains around Ned’s wrists. “These are pretty thick. I might be able to break them if I transform into something big.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  “I’m sorry, sir?”

  “And then what? Even if you freed me, you’d never be able to get me out of here.” Ned struggled to hang his head lower. “It’s all pointless.”

  “He’s right,” said the prisoner. “No one has ever escaped these dungeons. No one and no thing.”