The Void settled back into its slumber. Although it hadn’t really awoken. If it had, the universe would probably be ash by now. Except the stuff that was already ash. That would probably become some lesser class of ash. Dust, thought Ned. Or soot. He wasn’t sure which, and it seemed largely irrelevant. What was relevant was that the Mad Void was a very deep sleeper and had little interest in waking up. That was good.
However, it had also crushed Rucka with the barest flex of its metaphysical might. Which meant if it ever did wake up, even against its will, there would be no force capable of putting it back to bed. Rucka didn’t understand that, and he’d keep poking the Mad Void with a stick. The results could only be disastrous to the entire universe, including Rucka. The goop that was the emperor was slowly but certainly drawing himself back together. And that had to be bad since Ned doubted the exploded emperor had learned his lesson.
The throne room doors flew open, and in rushed a squad of demon soldiers. Ned could identify them as soldiers by their gleaming black armor and wicked scimitars. He could identify them as demons, though their armor covered them almost completely, because it was a safe bet that almost every resident of the Iron Fortress was a demon. Even him, when he thought about it.
“Forgive us, great and merciless lord,” said the lead soldier, “but the fortress is under—”
The slimy remains of his master interrupted his report. He slipped on a bit of intestine and fell flat on his back with a resonating clang. Two others followed his example, sliding across the floor. The remaining three learned from their example and didn’t cross the threshold.
The soldiers, those not trying to rise to their feet, took in the scene. Ned couldn’t see their faces behind their closed helmets, but he assumed their expressions were of awe. It appeared as if he’d destroyed their fearsome leader. He didn’t see any reason to correct the assumption.
“I guess I’ll be leaving now,” he said, “if that’s okay with you.”
Rucka’s minions were so used to bowing before omnipotent masters that they lowered their scimitars without hesitation and stepped aside to let Ned pass. He didn’t know how long it would take Rucka to reform, but the more distance between the emperor and Ned, the better. The trickiest part would be crossing the throne room without ending up sprawled helplessly across the floor. Before he could begin the delicate journey, a shadow fell across the window.
Ned turned just in time to see the painted glass shattered by a shrieking roc. The bird planted its feet in the slime and skimmed forward, driven by its momentum. Ned barely managed to dive to one side as it coasted by him and crashed against a wall. The moment’s stop was enough to allow it to dig its claws in the floor to gain some stability, though it was a stiff breeze away from toppling over. A dozen goblins dropped from the roc’s feathers and charged the demon soldiers. In other circumstances, the experienced demon warriors would’ve slaughtered their foes, but there were few opponents as wily and unpredictable as a squad of greased goblins.
The sounds of a battle raging outside reached Ned’s ears as he gingerly pushed himself to his knees. He spat out some goop. Not surprisingly, Rucka tasted horrible.
“I told you he was in this tower,” said Miriam.
“Yes, yes.” Regina threw down a ladder. “Ned, we’ve come to rescue you.”
“Thanks.” Ned smiled as he crawled his way toward the roc. A rescue at this point was a trifle late, but it was still the thought that counted.
Ace struggled to keep his mount steady. Not easy with the slippery floor and the roc’s natural inclination to pace around. But it would be extremely bad form to have the giant bird fall on Ned in the middle of the rescue.
“What the hell happened here?” asked Ace.
Ned grabbed the ladder and began the ascent. “Nothing much. I just exploded a demon emperor.”
“You?” asked Regina as she helped him to his seat between Miriam and her.
“Sort of.” He smiled sheepishly.
The pile of muck that was Rucka had managed by now to pull itself together enough to form a misshapen head, a lump with eyes and a crooked mouth. “This isn’t done, Ned!” bellowed Rucka. “I will destroy you! I will have your power! I will—”
The roc, slipping and sliding its way toward the window, squished Rucka and his threats underfoot. Twice the bird lost its footing, but Ace’s superior skills kept it from rolling over and crushing its riders.
Ned picked out ogres, goblins, and demons swarming on the Iron Fortress. The glow of the fortress itself bathed the battle in a green and red luminescence. It wasn’t so much a grand battle as a warm-up clash. Right now, Ogre Company was winning by virtue of first strike, but each passing moment more and more demons were appearing.
“Sir?” asked Miriam.
“What?” replied Ned.
“Your orders?”
Again he’d forgotten he was supposed to be in charge.
Now that he remembered, he still didn’t have the experience to be good at it.
“What would you do?” he asked Regina.
“I’d order a retreat back to the citadel, sir. Might give us the advantage.”
“Right, right. Do that then, Archmajor.”
Regina nodded to the goblin bugler clinging to the roc’s tail. “Sound the retreat.”
The bugler blew the call. Ogre Company remounted its birds with surprising discipline. There were a few stragglers eager to get in a few more licks, but the company was soon in the air, sailing back toward Copper Citadel.
The slime-coated goblins battling the demon soldiers skated effortlessly across the slippery throne room to climb back onto the roc, which Ace spurred out the window. The bird plummeted downward until Ace yanked its reins hard enough to remind it to start flying. Screeching with great irritation, as if it’d much rather hit the brick below, the roc flapped its majestic wings and soared off. The slime covering Ned sloughed off to stay behind in the fortress.
The bugler continued to sound the retreat as the rest of the reptilian birds launched themselves. By now, the demons had managed to get their brimstone cannons out. They fired a few volleys of sulfurous flame that went wide except for one that struck a roc’s side. The bird wobbled but wasn’t greatly bothered.
The Iron Fortress shrank slowly in the horizon. It stomped its great feet in an earthshaking temper tantrum.
“You came for me,” said Ned.
“You are our commander, sir,” said Regina.
“And we were worried possibly about the fate of the universe,” added Miriam.
“Oh, yeah,” agreed Ned. “I suppose that’s important.”
Ned glanced back at the fortress again. A few parting shots of stinking fire soared through the air, but were well short of the flight. There weren’t any demons in pursuit. Probably in disarray without their emperor, Ned decided.
But once Rucka reformed, there was sure to be an army of the damned coming.
Ned weighed his options. He could order Ace to keep flying and hope to outdistance any pursuers. There was no shame in running away. But he doubted that would work. He might be able to put them off for a while, but hiding would be a lot harder now. The demons knew who he was. So did he. So did a few hundred soldiers. True, they didn’t know exactly what he was, but close enough that obscurity would be difficult to find in the long run.
At least in the citadel he was surrounded by several hundred soldiers. They might not be the best of the best, the greatest collection of warriors, but they were a damn sight better than striking off on his own. He didn’t know how many demons might be coming, but a few hundred ogres at his side meant he’d have some chance. Circumstances left him no other choice.
Ned shuddered. He didn’t have much confidence in Ogre Company. And even less in their commander.
A goblin tugged at Ned’s leg. “Did you really blow up a demon, sir?”
Ned didn’t feel like offering clarifications of things he didn’t truly understand himself.
“Yes.
Yes, I did.”
Thirty
THE CITADEL CAME INTO view far too soon for Ned’s liking. He would’ve preferred more distance from the Iron Fortress. He couldn’t help but count every inch of every mile between him and an army of demons. It didn’t make much difference, but it would’ve made him feel better just the same. The bulk of rocs put down in the pens on the other side of the citadel, but Ace put Ned’s flight down in the courtyard. The courtyard was bustling, but Ace managed—impressively—to not squash anything in the landing.
The riders disembarked, and Ace spurred the roc back to the pen. Frank limped forward to greet Ned and company. The Ogre held a tree trunk across his shoulder. He saluted, the gesture without a trace of sarcasm.
“Any trouble, sir?”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“Good to have you back, sir.”
“Good to be back, Lieutenant. And it’s Ned. Just Ned.”
Frank smiled. “If you insist, Ned.”
“I do. I think we both know I’m not the right man to be in charge.”
Regina cleared her throat behind Ned, who shrugged.
“Right person,” he hastily corrected.
“Can’t disagree with you there, Ned,” said Frank, “but you are in charge. To be honest, I’ve seen worse commanders.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Look at it this way, Ned. Most horrible commanders don’t know how horrible they are. You’ve got that on them.”
Frank put his hands on Ned’s shoulders. The gesture was meant to be comforting, but it reminded him how easily Frank could flatten the delicate human skull with a casual squeeze.
“This is all very nice,” said Regina, “but we can probably expect a demon horde any moment now.”
Frank waved his tree trunk at the soldiers running around. “We’re almost prepared. As much as we can be. The citadel isn’t designed to resist a full-scale assault. The gate’s good and strong, but it won’t amount to much defense with these crumbling outer walls. That one gap is large enough for a phalanx to march through.”
“Won’t really matter. Most, if not all, the demons can fly. A breach is to be expected.”
“Good.” Frank, like most ogres, preferred his warfare direct and to the point. A protracted siege would be far too dull.
“How are we doing for armaments?” asked Regina.
“Not nearly well enough,” replied Frank. “We don’t have a full complement. Just enough for training purposes.”
“We’ll make do,” said Regina, “but the darkness will put us at a disadvantage.”
“Ulga said she might be able to do something about that.”
While Regina and Frank shared strategies, Ned stood to one side. They had things well in hand, and he didn’t have anything constructive to offer, neither the experience nor the skills to be of great use on the battlefield. It was better, just plain smarter, to leave this war to others. If the mark of a good leader was the ability to delegate authority, then Ned wasn’t just good. He was great.
He didn’t feel great. He felt helpless. He might contain the most powerful force in the universe, but it didn’t change the fact that he himself was practically useless.
Miriam tapped Ned on the shoulder. “Everything all right, Ned?”
“I guess.”
She held out the speaking staff. “Some of the soldiers found this. Thought you might need it.”
He didn’t. The staff had no magic, and even if it did, he didn’t know how to use it. He took it just the same. It was comforting to have something solid to hold.
“It’ll be okay, Ned,” said Miriam.
“I know.”
He didn’t, but he was commander. He couldn’t afford to show fear or weakness or uncertainty. That was part of the job, damn it. He could fake it if he had to.
Miriam put her hand on his shoulder. Unlike Frank’s meaty mitt, hers seemed a small reassurance. “Don’t worry. We’re professionals. Fighting is what we get paid to do.”
Ned realized he wasn’t as good at faking confidence as he’d hoped. Yet another basic leadership skill he lacked.
“We should really get you under cover,” said Frank suddenly from beside Ned.
Ned sighed. The battle of the universe was about to commence, and he’d be stuck in some dank hole. It made perfect sense. His life was what this was all about. It’d be plain stupid to have him join in the melee. He was sure to be killed within minutes (if not seconds). He knew all this, but it didn’t change his distaste for it. If he was to die today, he wanted to meet oblivion face-to-face, not cowering in some basement waiting for death to come to him. Especially since it always found him in the end.
“Private Lewis and Corporal Martin have agreed to serve as your personal bodyguard,” said Frank.
The massive ogre twins saluted.
“It’s an honor, sir,” said Lewis.
“And a privilege, sir,” added Martin.
“Right.” Ned looked up at the towering brothers. They only made him feel all the more insignificant. Ironic, considering how the fate of the universe was so indivisible from his own.
An orc watchman in a balcony blew the alarm on his hom. It was blasted dark now, but ores had excellent night vision.
“They’re coming.” Frank wrapped his hands around the tree trunk and took a few practice swings. “Get him out of here.”
“Right this way, Commander,” said Lewis as he ushered Ned toward the pub basement.
“Good luck, Frank,” said Ned.
The ogre lieutenant didn’t hear him; he was too busy scanning the darkened sky for the first signs of the enemy. On the way to his hiding place, Ned passed Ulga as she began conjuring burning balls of light and launching them into the air in rapid succession. They bathed the citadel in a soft glow. They lit the night like small, very near stars. The light of an artificial dawn cast through the pub. Ned paused, staring out the window. He held tighter to the speaking staff.
Some unseen monster shrieked in the distance. Then another. And another. Ten million demon voices filled the air with their shrill, fearsome war cry.
“How many are there?” Ned wondered.
“Too many,” replied the staff.
Somewhere, someone in Ogre Company had found a bone horn and blew the battle ballad of Grother’s Death Brigade, a company of ores famous for killing a dragon tyrant by cramming themselves down the tyrant’s gullet until she choked to death. The soldiers raised their weapons and roared in one voice. The ogres, with their deep, bellowing voices, dominated the song. The demon’s war cry and the company’s song mixed together into an off-key miasma of glorious determination.
It hurt Ned’s ears. It also simmered his blood. For the first time ever, Ned grasped in some vague sense the strange nobility of charging down a dragon’s throat with a sword in your hand and a smile on your lips. For the first time ever, he wanted to step out onto the battlefield and do his part.
The twins opened a trapdoor behind the bar. “We should get you below, sir,” said Martin.
“Right this way,” said Lewis.
Ned sighed. Unfortunately, hiding was his part of this battle. He walked down the cellar stairway with some strange, foreign reluctance. The twins closed the door, dulling the horrible, enticing dirge of war.
Owens sat on a barrel. He turned his head as they entered. “Hello, sir.”
“What are you—”
“Blind, sir,” the oracle replied. “Hearing the future isn’t much good in a fight.”
Ned stood in the middle of a cellar surrounded by kegs of mead dimly lit by a single candle. Only it wasn’t a candle.
“Is your staff glowing, sir?” asked Martin.
The staff cast a soft light. It also felt slightly, almost imperceptibly warm.
“Why are you glowing?” asked Ned.
“I’m glowing?” replied the staff.
Before Ned could ask it another question, he noticed the howls of the demons and bellows of t
he company had faded away. In their place was a deathly, all-consuming silence, so complete that even the cellar was seized in its grasp.
Demons settled on the walls of Copper Citadel, yet none entered its grounds. They perched like leering vultures, whispering and chuckling among themselves. And Ogre Company waited for the signal to attack. Both sides remained still as if fate itself dared not play out this final battle.
The first to step into the citadel was a terrible beast of slime and fangs, with the body of a cat, the wings of a buzzard, and the head of a cyclopean gnome. Its rider was a muscular warrior of a demon in black, spiky armor with a long blood-red cloak. The rider carried a wicked barbed lash. The demon spread iron wings and cackled. She pulled back her hood to reveal a face that, while not soft or delicate, was vaguely feminine.
“Who’s in command here?” she asked with a delicate, gossamer voice.
Frank stepped forward. He adopted a proper smashing stance. “I guess that would be me.”
Spear in hand, Regina stood beside him. “That would be us.”
The demoness narrowed her glittering silver eyes. “My master, the Glorious and Dreaded Rucka, First Emperor of the Ten Thousand Hells, has sent me to negotiate. Listen well. Surrender Ned to us, or perish horribly beneath our unforgiving wrath.”
Frank tightened his grip on his tree trunk. “And if we do?”
The demoness snarled and smiled at the same time. “Then perish slightly less horribly beneath our reasonably more forgiving wrath.”
The demons cackled until the demoness quieted them with a thunderous crack of her whip.
“Tonight you will die, and I’ll not insult your intelligence by lying. But to gain even the slightest degree of mercy from Rucka’s minions is a charity anyone should be grateful for.”
The demons cackled again.
In the Company of Ogres Page 28
