Og-Grim-Dog and the Dark Lord

by Jamie Edmundson

  ‘The truth is,’ said Assata, ‘that the four of us are simply too conspicuous to go wandering about freely in the Kuthenian Empire. The culture there is a lot more closed than you are used to in the west: there simply aren’t that many foreigners. The only way we are going to get anywhere is to make contact with the Resistance. We have associates all over the country, and most slaves are sympathetic to our cause. We must rely on them to get us to Pengshui.’

  ‘Excellent!’ declared Simba, equally as sold on the idea as he had been on Gurin’s. ‘And once we get to the capital, the palace slaves could lead us straight to the princess!’

  ‘So we just approach the first slave we come across?’ Gurin asked doubtfully.

  ‘Nearly. I approach them.’

  ‘And what if they give us up to their masters? You may find that your Resistance isn’t as universally loved as you like to think.’

  ‘I’m aware that there are risks. But we don’t have a better plan.’

  True enough, thought Grim.

  In a lawless land where no-one rules, the scourge of bandits is as inevitable as flies on freshly laid shit.

  More surprising, was that a gang of them chose to rob this particular group. Perhaps, as they approached in the darkness, surrounding the small camp, and outnumbering their victims twenty to four, they believed the odds were firmly in their favour.

  As it was, the dark elf had heard their approach well in advance. Og-Grim-Dog’s night vision wasn’t quite in the same league as Simba and Gurin’s, but like his two friends they had an advantage over humans. They waited, Gurin and Simba under the cart, Og-Grim-Dog behind a pile of rocks. Assata sat by the fire, next to three bedrolls, giving the impression that a single enemy was on watch.

  When the first scream reached him, Grim knew his friends had left their hiding spot and it was time for him to do the same. Figures loomed in the gloom, some tip-toeing forwards, others rooted to the spot at the sound of a dark elf shouting an incomprehensible, yet sinister, challenge into the night. There was something about the dark elf’s native language that made Grim’s hackles rise, and when it was accompanied by the agonised screams of his victims, he didn’t blame those bandits who hesitated one bit.

  Og’s pike was perfect for an encounter such as this. By the time the bandits saw three ogre faces emerge from the dark, eighteen feet of wood and steel was already on its way. While Og was reluctant to carry out the Dark Lord’s dirty work, he didn’t object to purging men such as this, and a handful fell to his polearm in short order.

  The bandits broke when they realised how badly their plan had gone awry. Og-Grim-Dog let them go—unlike the dark elf, who followed them into the night, calling to them in the godforsaken language of his people.

  Infiltration of the Empire Precis

  The Landlord paused his storytelling, and his three heads looked at one another. A particularly observant customer may have noticed these looks and concluded that all three heads looked a little unsure of themselves.

  The Recorder ceased his scratching and looked up. ‘What? Another ‘montage’?’

  The third head frowned at him. ‘It’s just that it’s hard to tell the story of the next few weeks.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘We entered the Empire,’ the middle head explained, ‘and Assata made contact with the Resistance, just as she had wanted. They were all slaves, working in the fields or houses of their Kuthenian masters. They took us in, gave us shelter, shared their food with us. Then they would take us to the next farm, or the next village, and pass us on to another group of slaves. That was how we were able to travel across Kuthenia, unseen by the authorities.’

  ‘I see. But why is it hard to tell that story?’

  ‘Well,’ began the first head, ‘we only ever saw the inside of barns. Assata did all the talking. During the day, we slept. We moved at night, in the dark. We had no idea where we were going—totally reliant on our guides, who knew the land we passed through. They arranged to make the swap at some location—a mound, or a copse of trees—and then we would be taken straight to the next hideout. Days and then weeks went by, and we barely saw a thing or spoke a word to anyone.’

  ‘Alright then,’ said the Recorder. ‘Another precis. When did this routine end?’

  ‘It wasn’t until we got to the capital. Pengshui.’

  ‘I see,’ said the Recorder. He absently stroked the feathered end of his quill on the parchment, while drumming the fingers of his other hand onto the desk.

  Three pairs of ogre eyes looked at this display for a while, until they could hold their tongues no longer.

  ‘Come on, out with it,’ said the Landlord’s first head. ‘I can tell something’s up.’

  ‘Well—yes. Something’s been bothering me. It’s the matter of the Dark Lord’s test of loyalty, for his new henchmen. Rumours abound of the crimes he demanded of fresh recruits, to prove their commitment to his cause. You told us that Gurin the dwarf would not speak of the price he paid. And yet, when it came to your turn, the Dark Lord apparently let you off.’

  The Landlord’s third head frowned at the man. ‘Let us off? That’s not what we said at all. We killed a menial for him. I hope you’re not forgetting things.’

  Now it was the Recorder’s turn to look offended. ‘I do not forget things.’ He scanned his piece of parchment. ‘These are the words you gave to the Dark Lord—and I quote. “Don’t worry about it. It was partly my fault for not being clear.” Now that sounds very much like it was letting you off. And, in all honesty, it doesn’t sound very much like the Dark Lord to me.’

  ‘What are you getting at?’ demanded the middle head angrily. ‘Are you insinuating that we are lying?’

  The Recorder sighed. ‘I’m just checking that the story I have is correct. You will recall that I pledged to sift the facts from the fabrications. I don’t fully understand why the Dark Lord would spare you from a monstrous deed, and you alone.’

  ‘But you see,’ said the middle head calmly, ‘we are telling you our story. The motives of the other actors cannot always be known with certainty by us. If you are asking me to speculate why the Dark Lord didn’t require a monstrous deed of us, it was perhaps because he already knew us to be a monster. Does one ask a dwarf whether they can wield an axe, or a recorder whether they can write?’

  The Recorder held up his hands. ‘Very well. It is as you say. The motives of the Dark Lord may never be known for sure. No offence intended. Please, continue.’

  Pengshui

  Og-Grim-Dog, his friends and a few members of the Resistance, stood in the half-light of dawn.

  The mighty walls of Pengshui loomed before them. They looked impregnable. But looks, it turned out, could be deceiving.

  ‘We have a way in,’ Assata declared.

  ‘How?’ asked Grim.

  Assata nodded to the man next to her. Referred to as Little El, he was a local leader in the Resistance. He was short and muscular, with swirling, ink black symbols on his meaty forearms.

  He gestured ahead, to an inconspicuous looking group of farm buildings. ‘There’s a tunnel that goes under the walls.’

  Gurin looked suspicious. ‘Built by who, and why?’

  ‘It’s used to smuggle goods into the city,’ said Little El.

  ‘Controlled by a bunch of criminals, then.’

  ‘It ain’t a crime to deny taxes to this vicious, murderous regime,’ Little El retorted.

  The other members of the Resistance reacted as well, staring at the dwarf with animosity. Assata looked worried.

  We could do without a fight right now, Grim said to himself.

  Gurin shrugged. ‘Assume I don’t care about your politics. Is it safe?’

  Little El studied Gurin for a while, saying nothing, before he relented.

  ‘The Resistance helped build it. We get to use it. We can get you in and back out via the tunnel with no questions asked.’

  ‘Alright. Let’s do it then.’

  ‘We’re getting
you in,’ Little El added. ‘But don’t expect us to help with the rest of it. That’s your job.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Simba spoke up. ‘We can handle the extraction.’

  Little El looked at the dark elf, then at Gurin and Og-Grim-Dog. He nodded. ‘Very well. We need to get you in now, before the city fully wakes.’

  If the tunnel was a little cramped for a human, it was barely navigable for an ogre. It wasn’t that Og-Grim-Dog had a fear of enclosed spaces. It was simply that their physical dimensions didn’t match up to the size of the shaft they had to squeeze through. Arms, legs and back got scraped as they crawled and slithered their way along. Grim lost count of the number of times he had to tell Dog to keep his voice down, as his brother voiced his discomfort and frustration with shouts and protracted swearing. But in the end, somehow, they found themselves clambering out into a brick-walled and earthen-floored storeroom. Wooden barrels were stacked at one end, most likely rolled through the tunnel to avoid the imperial tariffs.

  Grim leaned against a wall, pulling in lungfuls of air as sweat trickled down his body.

  ‘It’s best if you stay in here today,’ Little El advised them. ‘When the sun goes down, we can take you out and show you the palace.’

  None of them considered arguing. It had been another long night of travelling, and the tunnel had just about finished them off. They needed sleep—needed their wits about them, if they were going to infiltrate the imperial palace and get out alive.

  Og-Grim-Dog awoke to the smell of food. The Resistance had provided dinner: mountains of rice, with fish and meat and vegetables stirred in.

  ‘Don’t eat too much,’ Assata warned them as they began to tuck in. ‘We need you alert, not half asleep from a full stomach.’

  Dog barked with laughter at what he assumed was a joke.

  Fed and rested, Grim felt much better about the task waiting for them tonight. It had taken them months to get to this point, and soon it would be all over, one way or another. He could feel the adrenaline building, the grip of anticipation in his gut. But Little El told them they had to wait a while longer.

  ‘The day is waning,’ he told them. ‘But I’ll not risk moving you ’til it’s full dark.’

  They waited. There was not much to discuss or plan until they saw the palace for themselves. They checked their weapons one last time. Assata had her sword, and Gurin his axe. Simba had two swords, that both ended in a wicked looking curve. Og had his pike and Dog his mace. Grim, of course, had no weapons, since he had no hands. Strange. He’d had his whole life to get used to it. But even now, watching the others sharpening their blades with a whetstone, he still wished that he was doing the same.

  At last, it was time to move out. Little El was their only guide.

  ‘We want to keep our numbers down,’ he explained, as they exited the brick building onto a large yard that held a number of similar units. ‘We’re conspicuous enough as it is,’ he added, shooting a glance at Og-Grim-Dog.

  ‘Rather unnecessary,’ Dog muttered.

  ‘We’re in the industrial sector,’ Little El told them as he led them out of the yard and onto what had to be a main street. It was wide and well maintained, surfaced with stone. ‘The palace is some way off.’

  ‘You have Discount Dungeon Supplies in Kuthenia?’ Og asked him, indicating a branch of the store on the opposite side of the road. The signage proclaimed it as a superstore, and indeed, it was the largest shop Grim had ever seen.

  ‘A new addition to the capital,’ Little El revealed. ‘Rumour is that they are now the main supplier to the Imperial Army.’

  It was the middle of the night and barely a light could be seen in the city. Sometimes they heard voices, but the streets seemed empty. If street thugs did peer at them from the shadows as they passed, they elected to let them go on their way and wait for a softer target. They walked by people’s homes and through squares. Canals crisscrossed the city, creating straight lines wherever they went and requiring their party to cross the many bridges that spanned them. They made their way from the edge of Pengshui into its heart, where, finally, they came upon the Imperial Palace.

  It wasn’t what Grim had been expecting. He had envisaged it tall and grand, like Fell Towers. Instead, this was long, wide and grand. The palace was a complex of buildings enclosed within a rectangular walled area. There were enough lights inside the palace for him to make out the peaked roofs of several buildings beyond the walls, but none were especially tall. The wall stretched out in a straight line before them, disappearing into darkness. In front of it, Grim could just make out the shimmer of water.

  ‘How do we cross the canal?’ he asked.

  ‘There are many crossing points into the palace,’ Little El replied. ‘Come, I will show you the one to use.’

  He took them off to the left, staying parallel with the palace wall. They moved warily now, aware that there would likely be guards on the walls, even though they couldn’t see any sign of them.

  Little El stopped them opposite a bridge. It crossed the canal and led to a gate in the wall.

  ‘Through that gate, to the left,’ he said, pointing to the location he described, ‘there are half a dozen slave huts. One of them will have a green light on.’

  ‘A green light?’ Og asked.

  ‘A candle, inside a green lantern,’ the barbarian explained. ‘That is Ericka’s hut. She has agreed to take you to the home of the Emperor and his family. But let me make it clear. There are hundreds of soldiers in the palace. If you’re seen, you’re dead. Or worse, they take you alive.’

  ‘That’s all very well,’ said Gurin, ‘but how are we going to get past these walls without being seen?’

  ‘Well,’ said Simba, ‘it doesn’t seem like such a hard thing to do. We just need to eliminate any guards in this section of the wall.’

  ‘But we need to get in first, before we can start eliminating people.’

  ‘Oh. No problem. Wait here until I open the gate,’ Simba said, setting off.

  Assata caught the dark elf by the arm. ‘And if you fail?’

  ‘Then assume I’m dead or captured and call off the mission.’

  The Imperial Palace

  After all the waiting they had done, Grim assumed there would be a lot more of it to come. He was surprised, therefore, to see the gate slowly swing open not long after Simba had disappeared over the wall.

  ‘There’s our cue,’ Gurin muttered, wincing as he got to his feet.

  ‘Good luck,’ said Little El.

  Assata clasped his hand. Then their barbarian guide disappeared into the shadows, and the three companions made their way to the palace.

  They began to cross the bridge, Grim looking warily up at the wall, in case it was a trap. But as they neared the gate, he made out the white-haired figure of the dark elf, gesturing for them to hurry.

  They set foot inside the palace walls and Simba closed the gate behind them.

  ‘This way,’ he whispered, pointing.

  About forty feet inside the perimeter of the walls was a cluster of huts, and a green light flickered outside one of them.

  ‘The guards?’ Assata asked Simba.

  ‘Five of them altogether. I’ve dumped their bodies out of sight. But for all we know, there could be a change soon. We don’t have time to waste.’

  They made their way towards the hut, Grim doing his very best to go quietly. He was helped a little by the well-manicured grass underfoot. But they can’t have been silent, because the door to the hut opened as they approached, and a small figure ushered them inside.

  Slaves of all ages were sleeping on the floor, while a few had been woken by the goings on and were staring at the arrivals to their hut. The woman, carrying the green lantern with her, followed them inside and closed the door. She was small, much older than Assata. To Grim’s eyes, she was incredibly delicate looking, and yet there was a look of determination in her eyes.

  ‘Ericka?’ Assata asked.

  ‘Y
es.’

  ‘I am Assata.’ She pulled her sleeve up to show the woman her tattoo. ‘You know why we are here?’

  ‘I do. Do you need anything?’

  ‘No. We are ready when you are.’

  ‘The guards?’

  ‘Taken care of,’ said Simba.

  ‘Then let’s go. It’s not fair to keep you here. I am comfortable with risking my own life, but not those of my family.’

  With that, Ericka led them back outside. They followed her across the lawn and onto a path that took them towards a group of larger buildings in the palace, all with upturned eaves.

  ‘I work in the Inner Court,’ she whispered. She glanced at their blank looks. ‘Where the imperial family lives,’ she added.

  They cut past extravagant looking wooden buildings, coloured red and orange and green, with yellow roof tiles. Many had steps leading up to their entrances. But Ericka kept them to the shadows, without comment, until she raised a hand and stopped them.

  ‘See there,’ she said, pointing ahead of them. ‘That is the Inner Court.’

  The Inner Court was raised significantly higher than the rest of the palace. Grim could see more buildings like the ones they had passed. He could see a wide set of stairs that led up to the Court. And, of course, he could see guards, both at the foot and at the top of the stairs.

  ‘I can go no farther,’ Ericka whispered. ‘If you walk in a straight line from the top of the stairs you will come to a large building, the Hall of Supremacy. It is coloured bright red, with golden statues on the roof. You cannot miss it. The princess has her room on the top floor, second from the left. No men are allowed in her room, only female attendants. Please try not to harm the attendants.’