Og-Grim-Dog and the Dark Lord

by Jamie Edmundson

‘Any ideas how to get past these guards?’ Gurin asked her.

  ‘Sorry. I have done what I promised to do. Long live the Resistance.’

  Ericka clasped hands with Assata and then left them, retreating the way they had come.

  ‘Well, that’s useful, isn’t it?’ said Gurin sarcastically. ‘Now what do we do?’

  They looked at one another and then back to the heavily guarded approach to the Inner Court. No-one seemed to have an answer. Until Assata turned to Og-Grim-Dog.

  ‘I think we’re going to need a distraction.’

  The truth was, Og-Grim-Dog were quite content to play the role Assata wanted. They just weren’t suited for subtlety or stealth. This was a much closer match to their skill set.

  They charged at the guards stationed at the foot of the steps, coming out of the night like a creature from your worst nightmare. It helped that their ogre eyes were better in the dark than humans were—they could see their enemy a fraction quicker. When the Kuthenians did lock eyes with the ogre, their brains froze, or panicked: unable to interpret what exactly it was that came roaring at them. Og’s pike lashed out, the range he had longer than anything they had ever experienced, the wicked blade at the end coming at them before it could be expected. Grim carried on into them, allowing Dog to swing about with his mace, barking with pleasure.

  It didn’t take them long to turn the soldiers into a bloody mess on the steps. But now the element of surprise had gone, and soldiers began to emerge from around the palace. They came down the steps in a row, spears and shields at the ready. More came from the buildings in the Inner Court, and from the buildings behind them. They shouted to one another—insects, working together to bring down the beast.

  Grim hadn’t caught a glimpse of his three companions. That was good. If he had seen nothing, the chances were high that they had slipped by the Kuthenians unseen also.

  ‘I don’t think fighting our way up these steps is the best idea,’ Grim said.

  ‘Agreed,’ said Og.

  ‘Well, there’s plenty of people to kill down here,’ said Dog magnanimously.

  Grim backed away from the row of spears preparing to skewer them. Suddenly, he turned and ran in the opposite direction. Here, the Kuthenian soldiers had yet to organise themselves into anything resembling a formation, simply running towards the sound of fighting. They were unprepared for what came their way. Those with the presence of mind, turned and ran. Those who hesitated were battered by a mace, a huge blunt weapon swung with the force only an ogre could muster. Any who took a direct hit didn’t get back up again.

  The move bought them some time, but the row of spears had now reached the bottom of the steps, and more soldiers had joined it. Still more came from every conceivable direction, perhaps a hundred now on the scene.

  Grim had to act quickly.

  He barged his way up the steps of one of the buildings, kicking open the wooden doors.

  ‘We might be getting ourselves into a situation we can’t escape from,’ Og warned him in one ear, as Grim marched into what looked like a temple.

  But outnumbered as they were, Grim knew they wouldn’t last long in the open. Even if they were run down inside this temple—killed or captured—they were buying their friends the precious time they needed.

  The interior of the temple seemed empty, but it was dark, and there were many places for enemies to lurk undetected. Grim decided to make for a set of stairs that led up to the top floor. As he began the climb, the doors he had come through swung back open. Hesitantly at first, then with more confidence, the Kuthenian soldiers entered the temple. As the numbers increased, they began to march towards the ogre’s position on the stairs.

  ‘At least we have the height advantage here,’ Grim said.

  It was part statement, part question. Were his brothers happy for him to make a stand here?

  ‘We can’t hold them back forever,’ said Dog dubiously. He was more of a close-quarters fighter.

  ‘Looks like we have a problem,’ said Og.

  Looking down at the enemy, Grim saw several bow staves being pulled back. They had to move. But it was too late, as the twang of the bows signalled several arrows were flying in their direction. Og tried to block the missiles, but he was hit in the arm and let out a bellow of pain.

  Grim acted quickly now, turning around and climbing the rest of the stairs. He didn’t stop.

  ‘Get ready!’ he shouted and ran headlong into the exterior wall.

  Grim’s thinking was that the thin-looking wooden walls of the temple would give way from the force of a large ogre throwing their weight at it. Fortunately, he was right. The wall exploded outwards in a shower of broken wood and masonry and Og-Grim-Dog found themselves falling down to the ground below. It wasn’t a pleasant landing, though Grim had given his brother’s enough warning for them to release their weapons mid-fall and use their arms to help cushion the impact. They were fortunate again, that they landed on grass.

  Og-Grim-Dog picked themselves up. The first job was to retrieve their weapons. Og gasped in pain as he gripped his pike, a broken arrow still protruding from his arm.

  Grim knew that more arrows would come for them if they didn’t move. He ran away from the temple and the other buildings, across the palace lawn, in the hope that the darkness might conceal them. It didn’t, entirely.

  ‘Hey!’ a familiar voice hissed at them from the darkness.

  Grim stopped, turning in the direction where he thought the sound had come from. Gurin was running towards them, axe held in both hands. Then, not far behind him, was Assata. She carried an inert body over one shoulder.

  ‘Keep moving!’

  Gurin ran past them, and Grim ran after him.

  ‘Is that the princess?’ Dog asked Assata as she drew level with them.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about Simba?’

  ‘He’s holding them up for a while.’

  ‘Let me carry her.’

  Assata stopped, and Dog put his mace in his belt. The princess was transferred from one to the other, and the barbarian drew her sword. In the time it took to accomplish this, Simba caught up to them. He held a bloody sword in each hand, but they barely seemed to slow his swift pace.

  Wordlessly, the three of them chased after Gurin. Grim did his best to keep up, but his lungs began to fail him. It was all very well for Dog to carry the princess—it was no problem for him. But it meant extra weight for Grim, and running had never been a strength.

  It was only when they ran past Ericka’s hut that Grim realised where they were. The walls of the palace came into view ahead.

  Please let the gate be open and undefended, he prayed silently to Lord Vyana.

  Grim was of the belief that the fact that the gate happened to be open and undefended wasn’t simply because he had prayed to Vyana. The world was a bit more complicated than that. Still, he gave Him his thanks anyway, and thanked His Horde of Winged Hyenas as well.

  Gurin was waiting for them, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. With a nod, he turned and led them into the city. The dwarf had a way with directions, and he had Assata to help him. Grim was confident that they would get them back to the tunnel under the walls of Pengshui. All he had to do was concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, as quickly as he could.

  Princess Borte

  I didn’t think you’d do it,’ Little El admitted, his eyes popping out of his head at the sight of the princess of the Kuthenian Empire laid out cold in his warehouse.

  ‘There’s not much time,’ Assata stressed once more.

  Adrenaline was still coursing through their bodies and it felt like the Resistance man was moving in slow motion.

  ‘Right. Sorry. Well, our stores are lost, there’s no point in trying to save them. They’ll discover the tunnel,’ he added.

  Grim could see the man’s mind ticking over, making decisions in a panic that he should have made earlier, if only he hadn’t completely discounted their chances of success. />
  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he decided. ‘Lead you out and hand you over to someone who can get you far from the city. I’ll give the order to keep the Kuthenians away from here for as long as possible—give us a head start.’

  Grim let the others take the tunnel first, Assata and Gurin carrying the princess between them. If he and his brothers got stuck in there, at least they wouldn’t be trapping anyone else with them.

  It was hard work, pushing their exhausted body through the tight squeeze of a tunnel. Grim’s leg muscles began to cramp, over-worked and in need of rest. Og still used his hand to help them crawl through, but he had gone silent now, and Grim knew from experience that wasn’t a good sign. They’d had no time to treat the arrow wound and part of the shaft still stuck out of his brother’s arm, no doubt scraping along the wall every time they got stuck.

  Finally, they made it out, relieved to find their friends waiting for them and not a troop of Kuthenian soldiers. They lay down on their back, Grim stretching out his legs. Gurin passed them and returned to the tunnel.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Dog demanded.

  ‘Collapsing the tunnel,’ Simba replied.

  The sound of an axe striking the wooden supports echoed back down the tunnel.

  ‘Does he need some help?’ asked Dog.

  I wish you would stop offering our help all the time, Grim said to himself, though he had been very close to saying it out loud.

  ‘I think if there’s one thing dwarves can do by themselves,’ Simba replied, ‘it’s collapse a tunnel. And I’m really not sure there’s room in there for you to swing your mace about.’

  Sure enough, the sound of cracking wood and tumbling earth could be heard, quickly followed by a blast of dust and an axe-wielding dwarf exiting the tunnel.

  Little El gave a sigh of relief. ‘That should buy us some time. They’ve got to find the tunnel first, then discover it’s been collapsed. Then they’ll need to work out that it comes out here. Meanwhile, I’ll have taken you to a nearby resistance cell and you’ll be on your way.’

  ‘Getting a wagon would be useful,’ said Assata, looking at the prone figure of the princess laid out on the floor. ‘And finding someone who can treat wounds,’ she added, her gaze moving to Og’s arm.

  The wagon trundled through the Kuthenian countryside. Outside, Simba took his turn driving the horses. Inside, there was the most impressive collection of glares and glowers Grim had ever seen. Gurin Fuckaxe wore his default expression, which was a mightily miserable grimace. Og, his arm finally bandaged up, was in too much pain to sleep, leaving him in a foul mood. Assata stared daggers at their captive, her fingers twitching, as if—left to their own accord—they would grab the girl’s neck and not let go. But the blackest looks of all, Grim was surprised to note, came from Princess Borte herself.

  Unconscious, Borte had been agreeable company. Petite, with long black hair, she had not looked much different to a human child to Grim’s eyes, and he had developed some sympathy towards her, abducted from her home in the dead of night. Conscious, she had a bit more to say for herself.

  ‘So, let me get this right,’ she said, her voice dripping with contempt. ‘Kidnapping me and taking me to the Dark Lord is somehow going to be a victory for the slaves of the Empire?’

  ‘A war with the Dark Lord will hasten the demise of your evil empire and the emancipation of my people,’ Assata retorted.

  ‘Your people aren’t going to be helped by some hapless slave rebellion,’ said Borte. ‘That will just result in their massacre. Who has the money and the weapons, you fool? The end of slavery will come when the Emperor is persuaded of its merit. And it so happens, I was making good progress on that front. Those attendants in my room you threatened to skewer with your sword were slaves I had freed. What will my father and the other leading men of the Empire do when they find out that the Resistance was behind this? Start treating their slaves better? If you had any sense at all, you would end this idiocy and release me.’

  Assata laughed, though there was no humour in it. ‘We’ll be waiting forever if we sit and wait for the Kuthenians to end their evil institution. Slavery will end with the blood of innocents, the same way it was born. You think your father indulging you, by freeing a few house slaves, is the start of something more? You’re naïve to the world, princess, and naïve to think you can persuade me to release you.’

  Borte rolled her eyes. ‘And as for you,’ she said, turning her attention to Og-Grim-Dog and Gurin. ‘You’ve kidnapped me because the Dark Lord ordered you to? If he wants a war so bad, why doesn’t he send an army to Kuthenia, instead of an ogre and a dwarf? Does he even have an army?’

  Grim recalled their attempts to train the menials. Not much of one, he admitted to himself.

  ‘I’m afraid he’s dropped you in it. My father’s generals won’t be forgiving when they catch up to us.’

  ‘It’s not just a war he wants,’ Gurin murmured in response. ‘It’s the throne. He intends to marry you when we bring you to him.’

  That piece of news held her tongue for a while. She stared at them then, a mixture of incredulity and apprehension on her face. Grim felt more than a little embarrassed and had to look away.

  ‘You think you can cross half the Kuthenian Empire with me, and not get caught?’ she asked finally, rallying. ‘The Imperial Army will catch up to us in a day or two, if not hours. And I won’t be sorry to see you get justice when they do.’

  But for all Princess Borte’s confidence, the days went by and there was no sign of any chasing soldiers. They left the wagon behind, walking from one settlement to the next during the night, aided by the Resistance. As each day passed, Borte got a little bit quieter. For whatever reason, the Emperor’s forces didn’t come.

  The days turned into weeks and when they crossed the Kuthenian border, it was without incident. Borte didn’t say a word.

  Good News and Bad News

  By the time the tall, finger-like spires of Fell Towers came into view, winter had long past given up its hold over Gal’azu—even of this remote spot. Colour had appeared in the hills and the woods and the meadows, where there had been none before.

  On their approach to the tall gates of the stronghold, Grim could see there had been other changes. Sheev’s had grown—it had outdoor seating now, currently full of menials. In addition, a new building had been erected next door. Grim read the signage—Discount Dungeon Supplies: Depot.

  He saw Assata and Gurin looking in the same direction with interest, no doubt enticed by the thought of browsing the weapon racks. But they had business with the Dark Lord first.

  A helmeted figure appeared above them. ‘Password?’ it shouted down.

  ‘Heinous,’ Simba shouted up.

  ‘That hasn’t been the password for some time,’ the menial responded doubtfully.

  ‘We’ve been away on the Dark Lord’s business for months,’ Simba responded. ‘We’ve just got back.’

  Two more menials emerged, and a conversation ensued, not loud enough to carry down to the five figures waiting down below.

  ‘They’re going to refuse us entry,’ said Grim, excited at the prospect of progress in the menials’ ability to guard Fell Towers.

  ‘I’ll wager they don’t,’ said Dog.

  ‘Alright then. Give us a moment,’ came a voice.

  The gates to Fell Towers swung open.

  The Dark Lord was in his element.

  ‘You have done well, henchmen,’ he said grandiosely, once they had recounted their adventures in Kuthenia. ‘The Kuthenian Empire has taken a blow to its very heart, in a place where they felt most safe. And soon I will deliver a second blow,’ he added, striding forwards to where Princess Borte had been told to kneel, her hands bound. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. ‘For soon I will marry this beauty and lay claim to the Jade Throne for myself.’

  ‘You will not,’ said Borte, wrenching her head backwards. ‘Because marriage requires consent, and I would never consent
to marry a halfwit like you in a thousand years.’

  ‘Oh, she’s a hot-headed little minx, isn’t she?’ said the Dark Lord with glee, looking about the throne room. ‘It makes me want to have the ceremony immediately!’

  ‘Great, the sooner I can cut your throat while you sleep,’ said Borte.

  ‘But no,’ he said, ignoring the comment. ‘I can wait for my pleasure. The wedding will take place a month from now. I want it to be the grandest occasion Fell Towers has ever seen!’

  Behind the Dark Lord, at her place by his throne, Lilith cleared her throat. She kept her face neutral, but Grim could still detect an air of disapproval.

  ‘My Lord, perhaps it would be wiser not to wait a full month for the ceremony? Surely that will hold back our plans, and give our enemies more time to attempt a rescue? Once the marriage is done, and you impregnate Her Royal Highness, her value to the Emperor will diminish and Kuthenia will be more likely to accept a fait accompli.’

  Princess Borte made an unpleasant barfing sound.

  ‘Pah, what do I care? I want this war with Kuthenia, remember? And I want my wedding to the Dark Lady to be perfect, too. I am decided on it. Wro’Kuburni’-Dy-Hrath’Simbowa, please escort my future wife to the basement, where I have a cell prepared for her.’

  Not unkindly, Simba pulled the princess to her feet, and led her away. Grim looked away as they passed, unable to shake off a sense of shame over her predicament.

  The Dark Lord watched her go. It was impossible to tell for sure what kind of expression he had under his helmet, but Grim was pretty sure it was a smile.

  ‘Right. Any other business?’ he asked his adviser.

  ‘The barbarian woman. Assata,’ Lilith reminded him.

  ‘Of course, yes. Now, you played a very important role in bringing me my Dark Lady and have proven your worth. I would like to offer you a job as henchman. Is that right?’ he asked, turning back to Lilith. ‘Or should it be henchwoman?’