Fable: Blood of Heroes (25 page)

CHAPTER 21

INGA

T
he hut?” Inga used Bulwark to shove a low-hanging branch out of the way.

“Isn’t it obvious? Yog hid her life in a wooden box,” said Leech. “Nobody said it had to be a
small
box, hey? Wood has no animate life of its own, but her hut tromps around the woods like an animal. She must have found a way to infuse her life into her home.”

“Take down the hut and we take down Yog.” Inga grinned. “I’ve never fought a hut before.”

“We’ll have to be careful,” said Leech. “Tipple and the others are still inside.”

A high-pitched whistle tore through the air.

“What was that?” asked Greta.

“Shroud’s signal arrow.” Inga picked up speed, positioning herself in front of the others. When they emerged from the woods, there was no sign of Shroud. No doubt he was hiding like a mountain lion, waiting to pounce.

Inga took Greta by the shoulder. “Get inside and keep an eye on Rook and Glory.”

“Or just Rook.” Leech pointed to the slender figure standing atop the wall by the gate.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” Inga shouted.

Glory conjured a ball of flame. “As if you lot stand a chance against Yog without my help.”

“She sounds like herself again.” Leech took Greta by the hand and led her to where a section of wall had crumbled. Water trickled over the hill of broken stone.

That wall had been standing a short time before. The water must have eroded the foundation. At this rate, how long would it be before the last of Grayrock fell and washed away?

Inga waited until the others were both safely behind the walls—“safe” being a relative thing—then climbed up to find a good place to wait.

There was no subtlety to Yog’s approach. Inga heard the tromp of the wooden hut smashing through the trees long before it came into view.

The redcaps were first to emerge from the forest. They were a far cry from Yog’s earlier forces, numbering less than a dozen. The frontmost redcap suddenly howled and clutched his foot. A second pointed and laughed, but did the same two steps later. Inga chuckled, remembering Shroud’s plans. The redcaps had reached Shroud’s caltrops, then.

The rest slowed their approach, spreading outward, where another tripped over a line that set off a flash bomb directly in her face. One of Shroud’s arrows finished her off.

Inga stood atop the broken section of wall, Bulwark in one hand, her sword in the other. The stone blocks created a pile of cracks and corners that would snap your ankle like kindling if you weren’t careful. She shifted position, testing her footing.

“Tipple will be furious about missing this fight,” Glory yelled.

“Maybe we can save a few stragglers for him,” Inga called back.

Headstrong and the enchanted hut came next. The ogre waved a pair of enormous axes, one in each hand, while her noggins shouted what might have been a war cry. Though it could just as easily have been indigestion, assuming those things actually ate. Inga’s granddaddy used to make similar noises after eating too much trout.

A swarm of skulls flew towards her, their eyes burning with blue flame. Inga smashed the first out of the air with her sword. Bulwark blocked the next, but there were too many to stop them all. Teeth clamped onto her leg. Another skull tangled in her hair, jaw clacking.

Both skulls suddenly fell away and clattered down the rocks, dead. Deader, rather. She spared a quick nod towards Leech.

Headstrong and the hut split up. The ogre charged directly at Inga, while the hut circled to Inga’s left, climbing the rocks as easily as a mountain goat.

Inga shifted one leg back and dug her toe beneath a broken fragment of stone. She focused on the ogre’s eyes, letting her peripheral vision track the movement of both axes. The instant Headstrong drew back to strike, Inga kicked the stone upwards. It hit the ogre directly on the mouth. It wasn’t enough to stop her, but it startled her long enough for Inga to lunge forwards and land a cut along the front of her thigh.

The ogre didn’t seem to notice. She kicked Inga’s shield. Inga fell back, her shoulder throbbing. Even for an ogre, Headstrong was ridiculously strong.

“Watch that shield,” cried one of the noggins.

“Mind the rocks,” said another. “If you fall, you’ll crush old Scratcher.”

“Hit her with the axe! Then hit her with the other one!”

Inga twirled her blade overhead to draw Headstrong’s attention. At the same time, Bulwark’s power warmed her arm. The phantom shield smashed forwards, sending the ogre tumbling hard onto the rocks below. It looked like Bulwark had bloodied the noses of at least two noggins.

“I
told
you to watch the shield!” grumbled one.

Muffled shouts came from the noggin Headstrong had landed on. Inga guessed that would be Scratcher. She shifted her stance and redoubled her assault, using the higher ground to add power to her strikes.

“Hit her legs,” said the same noggin. “Chop her down like a tree, then split her for kindling!”

“Naw, take out the ground under her,” argued another.

Headstrong jumped back and swung low, striking the stone beneath Inga’s feet. The blow chipped the blade of the axe, but the rocks shifted. Inga staggered, off balance.

“Now!” yelled the first noggin.

Inga blocked the next swing, but the impact knocked her onto her back. She slid down several feet, which put her directly into the path of the second axe. She braced Bulwark.

It felt like a horse had landed on her. If not for Bulwark’s power, Inga had no doubt the blow would have split her and the shield both.

A second strike followed, and when that too failed to kill her, Headstrong simply threw herself atop Bulwark and Inga. The weight crushed the air from her lungs. Her sword was useless from this angle. She didn’t have enough power to penetrate the ogre’s thick hide.

“Granny warned me about days like this.” Each time she exhaled, it got harder to draw another breath. The noggins were shouting and laughing. Sparks flashed at the edge of her vision.

She dropped her sword, reached past Bulwark, tightened her fist around the ogre’s ear, and twisted hard.

Headstrong howled, and the pressure eased.

“Like Old Farmer Bristles used to say, control the head and the body will follow.” Inga yanked down and to the side, twisting her fingers deeper into the greasy cartilage of the ogre’s ear. Headstrong rolled off her. Unfortunately, she rolled right onto Inga’s discarded sword. Had Inga been a luckier woman, the ogre would have run herself through in the process. Instead, she simply trapped the blade where Inga couldn’t get to it.

Inga pushed herself up and kicked the ogre in the side of the head. The impact nearly broke her toes. “That bloody
hurts.
”

“I’ll show you bloody,” Headstrong roared, and climbed to her feet.

Inga jumped back to avoid another swipe of those axes. “What’s Yog doing?” she shouted, keeping her attention on the ogre. She had lost track of the hut during the fight.

“She’s on the wall, circling the lake,” Leech yelled. “Probably searching for the boy. Glory’s holding her back. I’m trying to keep her bones off us.”

Headstrong kicked Inga’s sword away. She and her noggins wore disturbingly similar smiles, hungry and sadistic. “You got her now,” said one. “Take your time. Don’t get stupid.”

“Too late,” crowed another. Headstrong thumped that one with the handle of her axe.

Inga used the opening to jump forwards and seize the haft of the axe. She tried to twist it out of Headstrong’s hand, but the ogre’s grip was like iron. Inga had to let go or be pulled off her feet.

“That’s it,” said the one-eyed noggin. “Slow and steady.”

Inga snatched up a broken fragment of rock and threw it at the noggin, breaking the bulbous nose.

“Kill that bloody human!” it roared.

Headstrong raised both weapons and smashed them down on Inga’s shield.

Inga still had the high ground, giving her leverage against Headstrong’s greater strength. More important, it put Headstrong at just the right height for Inga to force the shield higher, then ram the lower edge into the ogre’s throat.

Headstrong staggered and dropped one of her axes.

“Way to go, lard-fingers,” said another noggin.

Inga followed up with her shield, knocking Headstrong back, then snatched up her sword. Both she and the ogre were breathing hard. Sweat painted wisps of hair to Inga’s face. She readied her sword—

“Ben!”

The cry came from Greta, and she sounded terrified. Inga kicked Headstrong in the eye, then scrambled to the top of the wall and looked in at the lake.

Ben was bobbing in the water, fully human once more. Yog’s hut perched like an insect on the edge of the dam. Yog must have transformed him to his natural shape, and from the looks of it, he wasn’t much of a swimmer. Either that or he was having trouble controlling his limbs after his time as a doll.

She heard the stone crunching under Headstrong’s feet and spun to ward off that enormous axe. “Leech, can you get to Ben?”

“Not without losing control of Yog’s bones,” Leech shouted.

Glory was too busy flinging magic at Yog’s hut. If she went after Ben, who knew what the old witch would do.

Inga was confident she could beat Headstrong in time, but Ben didn’t have time. Yet she couldn’t retreat, either. If she tried to disengage, that axe would split her spine.

There was a sharp thump, and the ogre’s head jerked to the side. A black-shafted arrow pierced her nose like an obscenely misplaced moustache. Headstrong’s yellow eyes crossed, trying to focus.

“I’ve got this!” Shroud nocked another arrow as he jogged along the top of the wall towards them. “Go!”

Inga started running. Greta was swimming towards her brother, but a group of redcap skullchuckers had spotted her from the ruins of the watchtower. Bone and rock splashed the water.

Behind Inga, another arrow thudded into the ogre, who roared. Inga sheathed her sword and made her way to the watchtower. She pulled herself up onto the platform behind the redcaps, who were laughing and pointing at the struggling children.

Ben bobbed in the water, his arms pressing down at his sides, his mouth dipping below the surface again and again. His efforts grew noticeably weaker, but Greta was almost there. A redcap picked up a skull with some sort of explosive mixture inside and looked about, presumably searching for a way to light the fuse.

Inga cleared her throat. The four redcaps jumped, with one nearly falling off the tower.

“Those kids are friends of mine.” Inga couldn’t recall the last time she had been this angry. Fighting was one thing, but to make sport out of trying to kill two children … 

“Aw, yoos all banter,” said the closest redcap. “Attack!”

Inga smiled and raised her shield. She could feel Bulwark’s fury, as hot as her own and begging for release. The shield began to glow.

The redcaps hesitated.

Phantom shields shot out, smashing redcaps and the remnants of the tower alike. Splintered wood and screaming redcaps flew in all directions. Two redcaps splashed into the water. The others hit the ground outside. One exploded on impact.

Inga jumped after the two in the water. It was a bit of a drop, but she used a redcap to break her fall. She landed in the knee-deep water, snatched the other by the shirt, and threw him against the wall.

Greta had reached her brother and was struggling towards the shore, but she was bleeding from a cut on her forehead, and Ben was flailing. His panic could drown them both.

“Come on, Bulwark,” said Inga. “Let’s bring them in.”

A spectral fist reached over the water to grasp both children. Inga normally used this trick to haul her enemies in for a good thrashing, but this time the shield was far more careful. Within seconds, Inga was helping Ben and Greta out of the water. She pulled them towards the collapsed section of wall. Ben coughed and gagged, but he was alive.

“Well done, Greta.” Inga wrapped the girl in a one-armed hug. “You’re as heroic as anyone I’ve met back in Wendleglass Hall.”

“Thanks.” Greta was shivering, but her voice sounded stronger, more confident.

Inga looked around. The other Heroes were keeping Yog busy. As for Headstrong—Inga craned her head, but there was no sign of Shroud or the ogre. “Can you walk?”

Greta nodded. Inga scooped Ben up in one arm and waded along the inside of the wall, towards the gate. Greta kept a hand on Bulwark for support.

Rook sat with his crossbow in hand, with several extra quivers piled beside him. He didn’t ask any questions. He simply nodded and said, “I’ll keep them safe.”

“Stay inside the gate.” Inga ran a hand over her scalp, pushing her hair from her face. So long as Ben and Greta were within Grayrock’s walls, Yog’s curse should remain. “Don’t worry. We won’t let Yog hurt either of you again.”

Inga returned to the top of the wall. While she had been helping save Ben, the hut had gotten the upper hand—upper stilt, rather—with Leech and Glory, knocking them off the wall and chasing them into the clearing outside. Each of the wooden legs was as thick as a man’s arm, but they moved as fast as whips.

Skulls were scattered over the ground. Others floated away in the river. It looked like Leech had stopped more than half of Yog’s skeletal defences. The rest clung to the walls of the hut, the bones lending strength and armour of a sort to her walking home. Glory’s magical assault didn’t appear to be slowing the hut down. Each strike flowed past bone and wood like grease from a hot frying pan.

“I’ll be right there,” Inga shouted.

The hut caught Leech in the leg, knocking him down. His femur was visibly broken, but he didn’t cry out. He stretched out one hand, placed the other against the break, and shoved. “Soon would be good, if it’s all the same to you!”

When she was a child, Inga would have charged headfirst into battle to protect her friends, punching and kicking until either she or her opponent—usually the latter—went down and stayed there. True, she did that a lot as an adult, too. But what good would a sword be against an enemy like this? You didn’t cut down a tree with a pocketknife.