The Ogre's Pact (38 page)

“Put your weapons away and sit down, gentlemen,” Brianna commanded. “I intend you no harm.”

The princess looked toward the far end of the table where the king, his eyes bleary and his beard slick with the grease of roast fowl, sat. In the first chair on the right sat his young queen, Celia of Dunsany, barely older than Brianna, while High Priest Simon sat in the first chair on the left. Two members of the Giant Guard, the stone giant Gavorial and the frost giant Hrodmar, stood in the shadows behind him, hardly distinguishable from the great pillars supporting the ceiling.

As Brianna swept into the room, the king squinted at her as if he did not know who she could possibly be. The earls remained frozen in silence, too shocked even to whisper to each other. Only the giants seemed to accept that the princess had returned, with Hrodmar glancing nervously at Gavorial for guidance. The stone giant, patient and stolid as ever, raised a single long finger to instruct his companion to remain motionless.

Finally, Camden demanded, “Who dares burst into my hall?”

“Brianna of Hartwick, of course,” the princess replied.

Brianna stepped over to the banquet table, where she would be illuminated by the candles, and paused. After her long ordeal in the mountains, she had a haggard, wind-chapped face and snarled, stringy hair, but the princess had not changed so much that even her drunken father could fail to recognize her.

“What apparition are you?” demanded the king. “My daughter was abducted by ogres!”

“Then what are you doing here?” demanded Brianna. Though she had just entered the room, she could see that strong drink had reduced the king to a pitiful, confused shadow of the father she remembered. “Why are you feasting in your hall when you should be in the mountains, tracking ogres and fighting to save me?”

This was too much for the stuporous king. “She’s a ghost!” he blurted. “Away with her!”

Hrodmar started to step around the table, but Gavorial raised his hand and gently held the frost giant back. Brianna found the favor puzzling, for the Giant Guard prided itself on obedience to the king’s every word. But then, it had always seemed to her that the stone giant was constantly and silently measuring the actions of those around him. Perhaps Gavorial had ignored the command because he already knew what the princess hoped to prove to the earls: that her father was no longer worthy of obedience.

When no one moved to obey, the king leaped out of his chair. “She’s a ghoul, I tell you!” he yelled. “Don’t let her near!”

“I’m no fiend,” Brianna replied. She touched her fingers to the cheek of a nearby earl, one of the few whom she knew to be an honest and trustworthy man. “I’m quite alive, as I’m certain Earl Wendel will tell you.”

The earl nodded. “Her flesh is as soft and warm as that of my own wife.”

“What are you saying?” the king demanded. “Whose side are you on?”

“My king’s, of course,” the earl replied. He met the king’s glare evenly. “I’ll claim that Brianna’s a fiend, if you desire-but I don’t know why you’d want that. If she were my daughter. I’d be overjoyed to see her return safely.”

For a moment, Camden stared at Earl Wendel as though he didn’t comprehend what the man had said. Then the king seemed to realize he was making a fool of himself and sank back into his chair. He pulled off his golden crown and placed it next to his mug, then ran his hands through his tangled hair.

“Yes, forgive me. It’s just that I’m … I’ve been so distraught.” The king raised his gaze to Brianna, and she saw that there were tears welling in his eyes. “I am happy to see you alive. It’s just that… I’m so sorry… but I didn’t expect I ever would.”

“I imagine you didn’t,” Brianna replied, sickened by the pathetic figure at the head of the table. “Considering your bargain with Goboka, I’m quite sure you counted me lost forever.”

The king’s lips began to tremble. His eyes darted around the banquet table, studying the mood of his earls. When he saw nothing but blank faces, he motioned Brianna forward.

“You must be hungry, my dear.” Camden cast a meaningful glance toward High Priest Simon. As the cleric rose to offer his chair, the king continued, “Come and sit beside your father. Eat and drink.”

The king had not lost his capacities entirely, Brianna realized. He was attempting to retain control of the situation by changing the subject, and by subtly exerting his authority over her. Also, closing the distance between them would transform the discussion from a public matter to a private one. The princess knew her cause would be lost if she allowed him to accomplish either goal.

“Sit down, Simon.” As she gave the command, Brianna glared into her father’s eyes, making clear that she was challenging his authority. “I have no intention of accepting hospitality from a man who would trade his daughter-his only heir-for a kingdom.”

Camden’s eyes flashed with anger. He pushed his chair back and drew himself to his full height, slamming his fist onto the tabletop. Earthenware mugs and platters bounced so high into the air that they shattered when they came down, spilling mead and greasy meat.

“I did not trade you for my throne!” he thundered.

Celia’s face went as pale as bone, but the young queen seemed afraid to rise without permission. Brianna wondered if the king had become that much of a tyrant. By the deathly silence in the room, she suspected he had. Even the earls sat petrified in their chairs, their eyes fixed on Camden’s shuddering figure as though he were about to explode.

“You dare deny it?” Brianna inquired. Despite her growing anger, she deliberately kept her voice as calm as possible. The contrast between her composure and the king’s demented fury would only serve to convince the earls she was telling the truth. “Then why were the horses of all your companies still in their stables? What forces have you sent to rescue me from the ogres?”

This drew a quiet drone of whispering from the earls, and Brianna knew they had probably been wondering the same thing.

“I don’t deny that I have made great personal sacrifices for the benefit of Hartsvale.” The king’s voice was suddenly as calm as Brianna’s, his face so serene and collected that it was difficult to believe he had been a blustering drunkard only a moment before. He braced himself on the table and leaned forward, speaking to his earls now instead of Brianna. “Goboka has been a good friend. Not only did he help us resolve our difficulties during the War of Harts, he has kept ogres from marauding in our valley for these nineteen years.”

“And the price for his help was your daughter?” asked Earl Wendel, incredulous.

The king narrowed his eyes at the earl and gave him a menacing glare. Then he answered, “Yes.”

The king’s mouth hung open for a moment, as though he intended to add more to his explanation, then he shifted his gaze to Brianna’s face. The tears that had welled in his eyes earlier began to spill down his cheeks openly, and he made no attempt to conceal them.

“Please understand, Brianna,” he begged. “I acted for the good of Hartsvale.”

The princess studied the king without responding. Although his tears appeared genuine enough, the eyes from which they came were cold and hard and, most surprisingly, angry. If not for the ire in her father’s eyes, Brianna might have believed that he had acted only out of a stolid sense of duty. But the king’s anger bespoke something far more sinister: a spiritual barrenness that would always prevent him from ruling with the true welfare of his subjects at heart.

“You’re lying, and the sad thing is that you’re the only one who doesn’t know it,” she said. “You don’t have any idea what it means to act for the good of the kingdom. You can think only of what makes your throne more secure-and the reason you’re angry with me now is my return threatens your power.”

Camden’s tears suddenly dried up. “I’m still your king.”

“And that’s all that matters to you,” Brianna retorted. “That’s why you promised your unborn daughter to Goboka-not to end the war, but to protect your crown from Dunstan.”

“You mustn’t say such things.” Camden’s voice was as cool as ice, and as threatening as an avalanche. “Your mother did, and look what…”

The king let the sentence trail off, his eyes racing over the faces of those nearest him.

“Look what happened to her?” Brianna demanded. She was beginning to understand that the man in front of her had never truly been the father she loved, or the king she had admired. He was an imposter, a thief who had stolen his throne, and perhaps a ruthless murderer who had killed to defend it. “Did you throw her into the Clearwhirl? Is that what you’ll do with me?”

By the crimson color of the king’s face and the throbbing veins in his temples, Brianna knew she had guessed correctly. “You killed her!”

“She was weak!” Camden retorted. “She wouldn’t make the sacrifices demanded of a queen!”

“A queen is not required to give her child to ogres.” Brianna countered. “Not unless she has a monster for a husband.”

Though the massive banquet table weighed as much as one of Castle Hartwick’s gates, Camden grabbed it and heaved it aside. Regardless of what manner of king he had become, he remained a Hartwick and was blessed with the giantlike strength of their line. The table flipped on its side, knocking several earls and Celia of Dunsany to the floor. The queen cried out in pain, but the king appeared not to notice and started across the room.

A general clamor filled the chamber as the earls leaped to their feet. They seemed entirely unsure as to what they should do, but were apparently convinced that some action would be required. A few moved forward to grab the king, others rushed to lift the table off Celia, and the remainder simply reached for their belt weapons.

“Stand your ground!” warned Gavorial.

“I’ll mash any man who harms the king!” added Hrodmar. The frost giant’s voice shook the entire room.

The warnings were enough to freeze the earls in their places. The king threw a chair aside, then, as High Priest Simon kneeled over Celia at the other end of the room, Camden stopped in front of Brianna.

“Apologize!”

“No.”

Camden raised his hand. Brianna lifted her chin and glared into her father’s eyes, hoping Tavis would be wise enough not to make his presence known at this moment.

“Beat your daughter if you must,” the princess said. “I’m sure it will be a good lesson for the earls.”

The king checked his hand in midswing, then slowly-looked around the room at his earls. They were all watching with uneasy expressions, as though considering what the king might do to them if he was willing to beat a princess in public. Camden slowly lowered his hand, then backed away from his daughter.

“You’re right. It was a tragic mistake to ask Goboka’s help,” the king admitted. He was staring at the floor with the vacant gaze of a lost man. “Your mother was the lucky one. She didn’t have to watch you grow up, knowing that she would have to give you up when you reached the bloom of womanhood.”

The king raised his eyes to Brianna’s face, and this time there was no anger in his gaze, only bitterness and self-pity. “Do you know what that was like, Brianna? To watch your child mature, knowing for nineteen years that you would betray her?”

“I can only imagine.” Brianna replied coldly. “It must have been like growing up without your mother, believing she had chosen to die rather than raise you.”

“But she did choose to die!” the king insisted. “When she refused to understand that I couldn’t undo my mistake, I had no choice but to kill her. I had to protect the kingdom.”

“You had to protect the king.” Brianna corrected.

“They’re the same. You’d understand that if you were in my position,” Camden said. Then, as if Brianna had agreed with him, he continued, “You don’t know what I’ve endured all these years. The agony has been eating me from the inside out.”

“I’m sure.”

The king stepped over to Brianna and took her hand. A cold sweat had slickened his palms. “I’m glad you know the truth at last,” he said. “It will make it easier to understand why I must send you back.”

Brianna looked around the chamber. Gavorial and Hrodmar had slipped forward to be near the king, and were thus blocking her view of Celia and the earls attending her at the head of the table. But the men she could see were staring at her father with slack-jawed expressions of disbelief. Already, she guessed that half of them believed him an unfit king. The time had come to take the offensive and convince the other half.

Without removing her hand from her father’s grasp, the princess asked, “Are you worried that there will be a war with Goboka and his ogres if I don’t return to them?”

The king smiled. “I knew you’d understand,” he said. “For the good of the kingdom, we must both live with my tragic mistake.”

Brianna smiled back. “That won’t be necessary.” she said. “Goboka is dead.”

“What?” Hrodmar boomed.

“The shaman poses no danger to me or Hartsvale.” Brianna repeated. “Tavis Burdun and I killed him.”

Many of the earls voiced their congratulations, while others sighed in relief, and the rest began to murmur among themselves about what Brianna’s return meant to the kingdom’s future.

Gavorial’s voice knelled out above the din, bringing the babble to a sudden silence. “Perhaps you killed Goboka, but what of his horde?” the stone giant asked. “Surely, the two of you couldn’t have slain so many hundreds of ogres?”

“Not by ourselves,” Brianna replied.

The princess glanced around the shadowy room, hoping that Tavis had slipped into position by now. Her demented father no longer posed the greatest danger, for if Gavorial and Hrodmar knew of the Twilight Spirit’s involvement in her abduction, there was no telling how the pair would react to what she was reporting. Fortunately, she and the scout had discussed this uncertainty beforehand, and Tavis knew what to do.

When Brianna offered no further information about the horde’s fate, it was Hrodmar who demanded, “What do you mean? Are those ogres dead or not?”

Brianna regarded the frost giant with an expression of disdain. “I’m hardly accustomed to being interrogated by my father’s guards,” she replied. “But if you must know, Noote’s hill giants killed most of them-though we certainly slayed our share as well.”