The Ogre's Pact (10 page)

Goboka’s voice instantly boomed down the ravine, “Kill him!”

The last two ogres stepped abreast of each other and reached for their hand axes, but Runolf was ready for them. Throwing himself between them, he drew his weapon and lashed at the heel of the attacker nearest his sword arm. The brute’s ankle came apart in a spray of blood and, bellowing in pain, he dropped to his knee.

The second ogre’s axe arced down at Runolf, who avoided death only by hurling himself at the poor brute he had just injured. He struck the groaning warrior full in the chest, bowling him over and in the same move tucking a shoulder to start a somersault. The traitor rolled right up his foe’s huge body, slashing the throat of the astonished ogre as he passed over, and came up standing on the ground. He spun and charged, his flashing blade beating back the brute he had not yet killed.

Hoping to use Runolf’s distraction to good advantage, Brianna closed her eyes and pictured Hiatea’s flaming spear in her mind. The talisman on her breast grew warm, and she thought. Hunt, my friends! Slay the ugly ones!

The mountain lions sprang from their hiding places, bounding along the rim of the ravine, descending into the dark gorge as silent as owls. The beasts hit their targets with raking claws and snapping teeth, filling the ravine with the pained cries of dying ogres.

The two brutes nearest the ravine mouth fell instantly their necks crushed by their attackers’ powerful jaws.

Several more warriors were tumbling down the steep channel with mountain lions still clinging to their backs. Farther up, a few had actually managed to keep their feet, and were spinning in wild circles, bellowing madly and wildly flailing their arms in an effort to halt the vicious claws slashing their backs. Brianna could not see what had become of Goboka, but she did hear his angry voice bellowing off the craggy walls as he struggled with one of the murderous beasts.

A low growl sounded from the murky ravine, then a dark shape came leaping out from a crag’s shadow. Brianna’s ogre let her slip to the ground, at the same time using his free hand to meet the mountain lion with a powerful backhand smash. The beast crashed into the mountainside, then righted itself as the ogre pulled his hand axe off his belt. The mountain lion eyed the weapon warily, then flattened its ears and snarled.

As the warrior and the mountain lion faced off, Brianna rolled onto her back and spun around so that her bound feet pointed at the ogre. She waited until he stepped forward to attack the mountain lion, men thrust both heels at the ogre’s leg. The kick caught him at the ankle, sweeping his foot from beneath his body. He teetered on one foot for a moment, then crashed down, his skull smashing the rocky ground with a terrific crack. The brute’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, and the axe fell from his grasp.

The mountain lion gathered itself to spring.

No, me first! Brianna ordered.

The princess lifted her bound hands. The lion leaped over, severing the greasy rope with a single snap of its powerful jaws, Brianna pointed at her feet, and the mountain lion bit through those bindings too.

Seeing that its job was done, the lion whirled around and jumped on the stunned ogre. It gave a tremendous snarl, then bit through his throat. At the same time, the bloodthirsty beast raked his abdomen with the claws of its rear feet, spraying entrails and foul-smelling blood everywhere.

Brianna rose and saw that her allies in the ravine had not been so successful. Although many of her foes had fallen to the initial assault, the ogres had not taken long to recover from their shock. She saw at least three mountain lions lying motionless on the ravine floor and did not know how many more had fallen in murky shadows where she could not observe them. The two live beasts she could see were on the defensive, reduced to dodging axe blows and countering with quick slashes as they slunk between their attackers’ legs. Goboka was scrambling down from the top of the ravine, scowling angrily at the scene below.

Clasping one hand to her amulet. Brianna pointed at Goboka. “Big ogre-kill!”

At her command, the two visible cats whirled at to claw their way up the steep ravine. They were quickly followed by the female that had freed Brianna and one other that had been lurking in the shadows. One of the lead cats fell to a warrior’s timely axe blow, but it looked as though the others would survive to reach the shaman.

Brianna did not wait to see the outcome. She turned to rush away from the ravine-and saw that Runolf has not yet cleared the way. He was still fighting the last ogre, though he had the brute pressed against the mountain side and appeared likely to win the battle.

“Go ahead and clear the way.” Brianna whispered. “I’ll deal with you after the battle.”

The princess grabbed the hand axe dropped by the ogre that had been bearing her, then hurled it at Runolf’s foe. The weapon flew straight and true, skimming just over the traitor’s head to bury itself deep into the breast of its target. The brute’s eyes opened wide, and his hands dropped to his side. Runolf finished the warrior quickly, driving his sword up through the heart.

Pulling his sword free, the traitor looked at Brianna who was charging toward him at a dead run. For a moment, Runolf did not seem to know quite what to do. It’s raised his sword, as if preparing to fight, then he shook his head and stood aside.

“Hurry,” he called, waving at her. “Goboka’s free.”

The shaman’s deep voice rumbled down from the ravine, uttering the guttural name of his wicked patron, the god Vaprak, Brianna cringed but did not look back, knowing what the invocation meant. Until now, Goboka had been too busy fighting mountain lions to use his shaman’s magic, but that had changed.

Runolf’s mouth fell open. “Stronmaus save us!” The traitor look an involuntary step backward, then caught himself and rushed toward Brianna. “Milady, forgive me.” he called. “Had the decision been mine. I wouldn’t have betrayed you.”

Brianna started to demand whose choice it was, but a half dozen mountain lions bounded past her. For an instant, the princess did not understand what was happening-then she noticed the dark blood streaking their trails, and the gruesome wounds in their bodies. Goboka had raised her allies from the dead and turned them to his own will.

One lion threw itself on Runolf’s sword, tearing the blade from his hand with its momentum. The rest of the zombie beasts fell on the traitor in a pack, tearing him apart with eerie calm. There were no snarls or any sound at all, save for the clicking of bones and the sick, wet sound of tearing flesh.

Clutching her amulet in one hand, Brianna spun around to face Goboka. The princess was too late to cast a spell, for the last of the undead mountain lions had already sprung into the air. The thing crashed into her body with a tremendous blow, forcing the air from her lungs and knocking her off her feet. The lion landed with its paws pinning her to the ground, then closed its cold teeth around her throat. It bore down until its fangs just broke the skin and little rivulets of blood dribbled down her neck.

“Not speak,” ordered Goboka’s voice. “Lion tear out throat!”

Brianna obeyed. She listened in terrified silence as the shaman’s heavy feet scraped down the ravine and stomped toward her, knowing that she could do nothing except hold very still and wait for Goboka’s wrath.

The shaman kneeled at Brianna’s side, then reached under the mountain lion. He slipped a filthy talon down her breast and hooked it under Hiatea’s amulet, then broke the silver chain and pulled the blood-flecked necklace from around her neck.

“Nasty magic.”

The shaman tossed her amulet aside, then pushed the dead beast off the princess. He summoned one of the survivors of the ambush, then said something in their own guttural tongue that made the warrior’s purple eyes widen. The brute picked Brianna up and tucked her under his arm with such force that she feared he would crack her ribs.

Goboka grunted his approval, then went over and sat down cross-legged among the scattered remains of the traitor. “Bad man,” he said. “Get what he deserve.”

The shaman grabbed an arm and began to eat.

5
The Border Mountains

A small hand tugged gently on Tavis’s cape. “I see Morten and the earls down in the valley,” came Avner’s hushed voice. “We’d better go.”

“In a minute,” Tavis replied, not bothering to look down the mountainside. The boy’s news was no surprise to him. After raising Bear Driller to the king, the scout would have been shocked only if Camden had failed to send someone after them. “As long as you can see them, we have plenty of time.”

Tavis and his companions stood just below timberline, on a windy shelf of tundra where they had come across a smoldering funeral pyre. Thin ribbons of greasy, rancid smoke still curled up from the scorched bones, vanishing into the gray dawn like the last vestiges of departing spirits. The skeletons were so large that a raven had crawled inside one rib cage to peck at the charred remains of a heart, while the femurs were the size of verbeeg club’s. The skulls were brutish and huge, with sloping foreheads, massive brows, and jutting jaws with long, curved tusks. Some of the heads even had the charred remnants of topknots clinging to their crowns.

“They’re ogres,” Tavis announced. As he spoke, the scout’s eye fell on a shoulder blade lying near the base of the pile. It was much smaller than the others, and the fire had not cracked or scorched it nearly as much. “At least most of them are.”

Tavis picked up the scapula. There were several long gouges in it suggesting that an ogre had used his tusks to scrape the meat off the bone.

“Whose was that? Avner gasped. Both the boy’s stolen gelding and Blizzard stood behind him, their nostrils flaring at the acrid stench of the charred bones. “Brianna’s?”

Tavis’s heart began to pound, hut he tried to remain calm. “I can’t tell from a single bone,” he said. “But it’s clearly too small to have been an ogre.”

“Then perhaps we should concentrate on our own escape.” suggested Basil. “There’s nothing we can do for Brianna now.”

“We don’t know that.” Tavis’s voice was sharper than he intended. “The bone might belong to someone else.”

“What makes you believe that?” Basil asked.

“Every now and then, I’ve noticed partial tracks of what looks like a soft-soled shoe or boot,” Tavis replied. “The ogres have been sticking to hard ground and the sole is smooth, so the print doesn’t reveal much-not even the size or shape of the foot. But I do know this: ogres don’t wear shoes.”

“The tracks could belong to the princess,” Basil suggested.

“Or they could belong to the spy who betrayed her,” Tavis countered. “Either way. I’m not leaving here until we know for certain whose bones those are.”

“We’re as certain as we have time to be,” Basil said. “Our pursuers have spotted us, and now they’re redoubling their efforts to catch up.”

The verbeeg pointed down the mountainside. Though the scarp was not quite vertical, it was steep and barren enough so that Tavis could see the valley below, where the silvery ribbon of a shallow stream meandered across a lush carpet of pointed conifer trees. More than a dozen earls were urging their horses across the brook, their lances held high and their breastplates flashing tike mirrors in the morning sunlight.

On the stream’s shore stood Morten, gazing up at the rocky shelf where the scout and his companions stood. If the bodyguard’s wounds still troubled him, he showed no sign of it As each earl neared the shore, the burly firbolg looked away from Tavis to pull both horse and rider up the steep bank.

“Maybe they’re not coming after us,” Avner said. Despite his words, the boy’s voice was doubtful. “Maybe the king changed his mind and sent them to help.”

Tavis shook his head. “No, they’re coming to take us back,” he said. “If Camden were after the ogres, he would have sent more than a few earls.”

“This isn’t fair!” Avner griped. “If the king’s so willing to chase us down, he ought to send a company of castle guard after his own daughter!”

“You’re absolutely right,” Tavis replied, rubbing his chin. “Since Brianna disappeared, Camden’s been doing a lot of tilings that don’t make sense.”

“He’s too distraught to think clearly,” said Basil. “Anxiety clouds human judgment to unwarranted extremes, and your addled king is no exception. I fear he’s chosen us as his scapegoats.”

“Then let’s double back,” suggested Avner. “I saw a good place to set up an ambush.”

“So we can become murderers as well as thieves?” Tavis growled.

“Setter their lives than ours,” Avner countered. “It’s the only way to save ourselves.”

“We’re trying to save Brianna, not ourselves,” Tavis said, his voice still cross.

“It’s too late to save her.” Avner pointed at the bone heap. “Even you can’t put her back together.”

“We can try.” Tavis replied. ‘That’s the only way we’ll find out who this realty is.”

“But Morten and the earls-“

“Will have to climb the mountainside just like we did-and they’re wearing armor,” he said. “It will take them at least an hour. If you two help, we can sort through this mess by then.”

“And if we discover this is Brianna?” Basil asked.

“What will you do?”

“I’ll lead you and Avner to safety before I give myself over to Camden,” Tavis replied. “After involving you in my trouble with the king. I owe you that much.”

Avner scowled at this, but Basil quickly stepped over to the heap and began to pick up bones. “Then by all means, let’s begin work.” said the verbeeg. “An hour isn’t much time.”

The trio soon had the pile scattered across the ledge, gathering the bones into three separate groups: human, ogre, and those they weren’t sure of. Tavis reduced the size of this last category by adding some of the unscorched bones to the human pile, since many of those that were obviously human also showed little sign of heat damage. Still, their skeleton lacked critical portions of the legs and back. Even the skull was missing, making it impossible for the scout to say whether the dead person had been as tall as Brianna.

“Well?” asked Basil, impatient.

Tavis shook his head. “I can’t tell,” he said. He picked up the human pelvis. “The hips look narrow for a woman’s, but I can’t be sure,” he said. “I’ve never tried to identify someone from a pile of bones before.”