In the Company of Ogres

by Martinez A. Lee

  “I could get some help,” said Seamus.

  “Why bother?”

  “Don’t you want to be rescued, sir?”

  “I don’t know. I guess.”

  Ned wasn’t against it, but he didn’t see how it was possible. And he was through hoping for impossibilities, or even improbabilities.

  The dungeon door rattled open. Seamus disappeared in a puff of smoke, taking on his hideous demon form just as the executioner lurched into view.

  “Here now, what are you doing? Nobody’s supposed to be here.”

  Though wearing the hunched form of a demon, Seamus hunched lower. “Sorry. I got lost.”

  The executioner snorted, which appeared to be his favorite thing to do. He frowned, revealing rows of pointed teeth that up to now had remained hidden behind other rows of pointed teeth.

  Seamus shrugged. “Uh ... I’m new.”

  “You’d better come with me.”

  The goblin transformed into a giant sabercat in a puff of blue smoke. Seamus pounced, sinking his fangs into the executioner’s throat. A snap of powerful jaws severed the head from the shoulders, and the incident was over before the demon could utter a cry, and where a normal sabercat would’ve howled its victory cry, Seamus was deathly quiet. He was sabercat enough to swipe a few bloody gashes across the demon’s corpse.

  The prisoner chuckled. “That’s a very neat trick indeed.”

  Seamus returned to his natural goblin shape and gagged, wiping the blood from his lips. “Remind me not to do that again.”

  The door rattled.

  “I’ll be back, sir,” said Seamus. “With help.”

  Ned hadn’t even raised his head to watch the executioner’s death. “Whatever.”

  Seamus disappeared into a yellow puff. When the smoke cleared, it appeared as if the goblin had vanished entirely. Only the most alert observer would’ve noticed the jet-black scorpion scampering into the darkness.

  A new executioner demon, identical to the last save for boils on his belly, trudged in. “Come on now, what’s keeping you?” He stumbled over the corpse, which he puzzled over for a moment. He glanced at Ned, securely chained to the wall. Then to the body, well out of Ned’s reach.

  “How did you do that?”

  Ned kept staring at the floor. “Evil eye.”

  The executioner turned to the other prisoner. “No, really. How did he do that?”

  “Just like he said.” The prisoner’s eye squinted, turning an amused pink shade. “Evil eye. One glance is all it takes.”

  “There’s no such thing,” said the executioner.

  “Oh, no?” Ned raised his head a few degrees. “Look me in the eye and say that.”

  The demon stepped back, slipping on the pool of his comrade’s frozen blood. The executioner, whose hood covered his own eyes completely, still shielded them with his hands.

  “Hey, now, I’m just doing my job. No need to get violent.”

  “I think I’ll melt your bones in your skin,” said Ned. “Painful way to die. Believe me. I know.”

  The executioner, palm clasped firmly over his face, fumbled with the cell door. Once on the other side, he opened the slit to peek inside at Ned. But when Ned raised his head, the slit quickly shut.

  Ned laughed. He never would’ve guessed demons to be superstitious. They already were the stuff of nightmares. But he supposed that it was hard to deny the powers of darkness when you were already in their ranks.

  He had no idea how long one mysteriously executed demon would keep the others at bay. Not long, he imagined. And certainly not long enough for Seamus to get back to Copper Citadel, for Ogre Company to overcome years of lax discipline and mount a rescue effort. None of that mattered to Ned, who was beyond hope. Instead, he did what men without hope who have not quite given up yet have done since the dawn of time.

  He waited.

  Twenty-eight

  THE GOBLINS STRUGGLED to get the roc from the pens. The giant birds were almost supernaturally stubborn. When they were supposed to be in their pens, they always wanted out. And when they were supposed to be out, that was the only time they’d stay in. One team of goblin handlers pulled on a rope around the roc’s neck, while two more teams prodded its backside with long spears.

  Regina buckled on the last bit of her armor. “I don’t have time for this.”

  Ace puffed on his pipe. “Trust me. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to need a bird that’s broken in.”

  The roc used its tail to sweep the prodders away. They went flying in various directions, but a new team immediately sprang into action.

  “You call this broken in?” asked Regina.

  “He’s just being persnickety. Once we get him saddled, he’ll be more agreeable.”

  While the handlers inched the roc from its pen, step by arduous step, Regina paced. Her armor rattled loudly, which did nothing to soothe the roc’s mood.

  “I still think this is a bad idea,” said Ace.

  “Then why are you going?”

  “Because you’re going to need the best pilot if it’s going to work. Not that it will. I doubt we’ll even find Ned. And if we do, we’ll have that whole swarm of demons to deal with. The way I see it, either we’re wasting our time or this is a suicide mission.”

  “If you’re afraid, you don’t have to come.”

  “I said I thought it was a bad idea.” He chuckled. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

  Goblins didn’t know fear. The closest they came was the concept of panic. The species lived under the shadow of death, having a lifespan that measured in months. Ace was three years old and somewhat embarrassed by his advanced age. Goblins considered a high risk of death and dismemberment a prerequisite for any worthwhile endeavor. Since Ace had yet to meet his end, it was assumed by many of his kin that he was more devoted to staying alive than living well. This would’ve been the one and only sin in the goblin religion if goblins had bothered with religion.

  “We’ll find Ned,” said Regina.

  “What makes you so certain?”

  “Because we have to.”

  “I don’t see why,” said Ace. “The Legion will just send us a new commander.”

  “This isn’t about commanders,” replied Regina.

  “Then what’s it about?”

  She stopped pacing. She wished she knew the answer to that.

  “It’s about Ned.” Though siren vocal cords were resilient, Miriam’s voice hadn’t quite recovered from the Final Note. It was rough and dry. “And demons.”

  Regina whirled on the newly arrived siren. Miriam wore her own armor, lighter and quieter than the Amazon’s.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Regina.

  “I’m going with you.”

  Regina scoffed. “I don’t need your help.”

  “That’s good,” said Miriam, “because I’m not coming along to help you.”

  The women locked stares, something they’d been doing so often lately that this time it was mostly a habit.

  Miriam said, “Archmajor, this isn’t a debate. You’re thinking the same thing I am. Those were demons abducting Ned. And there’s no good reason for that. Unless maybe he was telling the truth.”

  Ace stood between the women. He was far too short to block their stares, but the noxious cloud from his pipe did make their eyes water. The smoke clung to their drying eyeballs, but both refused to blink.

  “You aren’t telling me you believe him? About destroying the universe?” asked Ace.

  Miriam replied, “I don’t know. But if it’s true, if even some small part, then we have to try. And even if it’s not, which it can’t possibly be, I can’t just stand by while you two rush off to your glorious deaths. I owe Ned more than that.”

  “You don’t owe him anything,” said Regina coldly.

  “Oh, no? If I recall correctly, Ned is mine.”

  Regina scowled. “He’s not yours. Not until you’ve won him by rite of combat.”

  “I tho
ught I already did.”

  “We didn’t get a chance to finish.” Regina’s hand went to her sword.

  “Oh, leave it in your scabbard, ma’am,” said Miriam. “We’ll settle the matter once we’ve rescued Ned.”

  “Can’t hurt to have backup,” added Ace, “and you gotta admit, she’s not bad with a sword.”

  Regina had to admit no such thing. Not aloud anyway. But she had gained a grudging respect for her rival. She didn’t want Miriam coming along, but short of beating Miriam to death, which the Amazon was confident she could do in a pinch, there was no other choice.

  “Just don’t expect me to save you if things get hairy,” said Regina.

  By now, the roc was out of the pen. The goblins scurried over the monstrous bird, reminding Regina very much of giant green fleas. Saddles were strapped on for the pilot and passengers in no time at all, and the roc calmed a bit as Ace promised. The pilot climbed up the roc’s neck to sit on the saddle just behind its head. He lowered his goggles. His scarf fluttered in the wind. Neither Regina nor Miriam commented, but the light of the evening sun cast a soft halo around the goblin, giving him a heroic glow. There was something dashing about twenty-five pounds of goblin determination perched atop eight tons of irritated, unpredictable bird flesh.

  The handlers threw down a rope ladder for the passengers to ascend, and they hesitated. It was one thing to admire Ace’s guts, quite another to place their lives in his hands.

  “Coming, ladies?” asked Ace.

  Both grabbed hold of the ladder at the same time.

  “Permission to come along, ma’am?” shouted Corporal Martin out of the blue.

  The roc twisted at the sudden outburst and would’ve stepped on Miriam and Regina. Ace prevented the accident with a yank of the reins, thus spurring some confidence in the women.

  The ogre twins Lewis and Martin stood before them. Ogres rarely bothered with armor. The cost of outfitting their massive bodies was prohibitive to the bottom line of Brute’s Legion. They were already notoriously thick-skinned, and getting stabbed was a general nuisance rather than a life-threatening event. But the twins were ready for action, each carrying his weapon of choice. Lewis favored a massive stone club, while Martin preferred a slightly less massive club embedded with iron spikes.

  Martin saluted casually as a proper salute would’ve ended with him bashing his brother in the face. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I heard about what you’re planning, and I was hoping to come along.”

  Regina asked Lewis, “And you, private?”

  Lewis shrugged his half of their shoulders. “Honestly, ma’am, I’m not as keen on the notion as my brother, but we should do something. One doesn’t allow demons to abduct an officer.”

  “It simply isn’t done,” said Martin.

  Regina glanced to Miriam, who nodded. The goblins were already throwing on another saddle, this one large enough for a one-headed ogre and barely large enough for a two-headed one.

  “Fine. You can come.” Regina sighed. “Now can we get on with this?”

  “They might have something to say about it, ma’am,” said Lewis.

  Behind the twins, a mob of soldiers came from Copper Citadel. Frank led. Having been thrown through a wall, he was bruised and battered, but relatively unharmed. He’d broken a few bones but stubbornly refused to pay them any mind. Ogres broke bones so often, particularly in their terrifying and awkward adolescence, that unless one was sticking out of their skin, they hardly noticed.

  Regina put her hand on her sword. “Don’t try and stop me.”

  Miriam stepped forward. “Stop us.”

  Frank said, “We’re not here to stop you. We’re here to help.”

  “Yes, we like Ned!” shouted Sally loudly enough to spit a ten-foot gout of flame in the air.

  The soldiers grumbled in agreement.

  “You do?” asked Regina. “But what about the training?”

  “That’s just part of the job!” shouted an orc.

  “And the dragon?” asked Regina. “And the demons? And the talking roc? You don’t blame Ned for that?”

  “Sure, we do!”

  “But at least it’s not boring around here anymore!”

  The mob roared, raising their weapons in the air.

  Ward added, “Anyway, if we don’t get him back, management will just send down another asshole! And we don’t want another asshole!” He raised his fists high. “We want Ned!”

  “Never Dead Ned!” shouted one soldier.

  “Never Dead Ned!” repeated another.

  The air filled with the chant. Some of the more inspired soldiers clanged their weapons against their armor in time with the beat.

  Regina marveled at the loyalty inspired by Ned. He hadn’t done much of anything. But that had been the strength of Ned’s command, she supposed. He hadn’t tried to make Ogre Company into a crack military unit. He’d just tried to get by in a bad situation, like the rest of them. He was the first commander who truly belonged in the company. He was one of them.

  Frank limped over on his broken leg. “Guess we’d better saddle up more rocs. We’ll have to send out search parties in a spread pattern until we find some sign of him,” said Frank. “And hope we find him before it’s too late.”

  A pigeon landed on his shoulder. In a puff of smoke, Seamus sat there in its place. “I think I can help you with that, sir.”

  Twenty-nine

  RUCKA SAT UPON HIS Throne of Skulls, which was actually made of cedar. But the infernal emperor enjoyed giving his things appropriately horrific names. The chair was perfectly sized for his slight proportions. Despite his diminutive stature, Rucka was supremely confident in his power. A larger throne might’ve been more impressive, but not so impressive as roasting flesh with a withering glance.

  Six demons dragged Ned into the throne room. “Here he is, Your Majesty,” said an executioner.

  “Why does he have a bag over his head?” asked Rucka with his dark, squeaky voice.

  “To keep his evil eye at bay, sire.”

  Rucka chuckled. “Remove it.”

  They pulled the bag off Ned’s head, and all the demons looked away. Except Rucka. All of his eyes—except for those on his back and ass—gazed up at Ned. Ned’s eye fell upon the tiny Emperor of the Ten Thousand Hells, and he wasn’t terribly impressed. But he wasn’t in the frame of mind to be impressed by much of anything. And he wasn’t foolish enough to equate size with power.

  Rucka’s throne room was a large chamber atop his tallest tower. There was no decoration, unless one counted a few bones scattered absently. Half a skull leered up from Ned’s feet. There was a painted glass window with an image of a giant demon with four arms standing atop a mountain of carcasses. The demon was covered with eyes, just like Rucka, and there was a passing resemblance. But the work struck Ned as unimaginative and unremarkable. It was just the kind of horrible image of carnage he would’ve expected in a demon’s throne room and thus rendered terribly unimpressive.

  Rucka commanded the executioners to leave, and they were all too eager to comply. No demon wished to stay in Rucka’s presence, where death was just a moment of annoyance away, or risk Ned’s evil eye. The massive iron doors were shut, and Ned was left alone with the emperor.

  The demon smiled. “Let me apologize for not coming to fetch you personally from your little citadel. I have some trouble crossing into the world of mortals. Too much power within me, you see. I could leave this fortress, but it would violate certain age-old treaties. More trouble than it’s worth.

  “And my Iron Fortress itself can’t cross running water, even that little trickle of a river below. Don’t ask me why. Design flaw. I had the engineers killed for it, but I suppose it would’ve been wiser to wait until they’d corrected the problem. Oh, well, kill and learn. That’s what I always say.”

  He dangled a pendulum. “Do you know how long I’ve searched for you? You have no idea how difficult it’s been with only these to guide my scouts. These stone
s are the only thing that can detect your true essence. Come from the sacred rock that was part of the transformation rite. Won’t bother you with the details. Some very special magic was used, the kind that comes along once every three ages, if that. Worked so well that even now, standing in this room with you, I don’t see anything but a mortal man. Not the slightest hint of the awesome power just waiting within you.”

  The pendulum twitched in Ned’s direction so slightly that it might just have been the wind. But the stone glowed with a soft, red light.

  Rucka said, “I won’t tell you how much trouble they were to get in the first place, how many troublesome gods I had to kill, how many rival demon lords I had to slaughter, or how many souls I devoured in this quest of mine. My only consolation is I enjoy killing, slaughtering, and devouring. Hardly seems like any work at all, to be honest.”

  Rucka’s four small wings beat like a hummingbird’s, and he shot off his throne and hovered before Ned. The pendulum glowed brighter, and its tilt was undeniable as it pulled toward Ned.

  “Have you ever tried searching the world by pendulum?” asked Rucka. “They’re a devil to use and not nearly so sensitive as would be helpful. Not to mention there’s only nine of these. Which is why it took so long to locate you. I’ve come close a few dozen times over the eons. But you’ve always wandered off before I could get my hands on you.”

  “Sorry,” said Ned.

  “Think nothing of it, old boy. I always knew I’d find you. One of the advantages of being an immortal. Time is always on my side. I’m surprised though that your troublesome guardian hasn’t interfered.”

  “The Red Woman?” said Ned. “She’s dead.”

  “Impossible.”

  “She died saving me.”

  Rucka stared Ned in the eye. “Really? How odd. Why should she sacrifice herself for an illusion? Disappointing. I was hoping to kill her myself. But seeing as how she died protecting you, I can at least take comfort in the futility of her sacrifice.”

  Rucka touched the stone to Ned’s cheek. The pendulum flared, though it still wasn’t much of a light, and the heat seared Ned’s face without actually hurting him. He smelled smoke, but didn’t see any. His bad left arm tightened, and he worried it might take a swing at Rucka. But he stopped worrying. Punching Rucka wouldn’t accomplish anything, but it couldn’t get him in any more trouble.