The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (24 page)

“Curious,” came a female voice from behind Orngoth. He whirled on the source, and saw a woman on horseback with a sword and shield at the ready. Curly dark hair cascaded from beneath the shadows of a green hood, which was soiled with dirt. In one fluid motion, she dismounted and strode fearlessly toward the half-ogre. Her sword was drawn and held straight out, its tip targeted right at his face. Yet he made no move.

“An ogre who does not join in on the action of a raid. May I ask why you sit here while your brethren assault these travelers?”

Orngoth merely shrugged, not sure what to make of this stranger. She moved with a confidence that defied her somewhat small stature. He stared into her cold brown eyes and her face contorted as she looked the half-ogre up and down.

“You are
half
-ogre, are you not?” she stated more than asked him and moved closer, her sword dropping slightly, seeming less threatening. Orngoth backed away, not knowing what to make of this, holding his great club at the ready. As he did so, he felt the tip of another weapon in his back. He also heard the quiet, but very obvious, snort of a horse now, though he had not so much as felt the stranger approach, even on horseback.

“That’s it, ogre. Back yourself right into my blade,” called a coarse and masculine voice from behind him.

“Hold!” commanded the woman, dropping her hood and moving closer. “It cannot be…,” she admitted in a soft tone, staring more intently into Orngoth’s blue eyes, which continued to track her curiosity.

This time, it was Orngoth’s turn to display a perplexed look.

Suddenly, the clang of steel on steel and the resulting death throes yanked her attention back to the battle raging below. She looked back to the half-ogre and then to the man on horseback behind him and nodded. With that, the man galloped off down the hill and toward the fight. Orngoth glimpsed the flowing green and brown cloak as it unfurled behind the unknown rider.

“I advise you to stay your weapon and bring it not to bear against us, lest we cut you down!” With that final warning, the woman effortlessly mounted her horse and galloped toward the conflict too.

Scar-face and Toothless were down, as were most of the mercenaries. Several merchants had taken to the road, and could be seen running in all directions as fast as they could away from the carnage.

Orngoth remained static, holding his club and seemingly hesitant to take action, one way or the other. He looked down to see that Lunka had two arrows and one quarrel protruding from his skin. The ogre yanked them out with a roar of anger and then backhanded the bowman with a massive hand, knocking him from his steed and sending the man unceremoniously onto the roughly hewn road. Then Orngoth watched helplessly as Lunka drove his boot down hard onto the man’s skull with a loud crack that echoed throughout the valley.

Bengog was on top of a wagon, smashing a mercenary to pulp with his one good arm, gore and blood following the repetitive motion of his club. There was nothing left of the opposition, who had either fled or lay dead or dying on the ground nearby.

The male rider made it to the foot of the hill and moved to engage Bengog, who had now climbed down to the ground behind a wagon and disappeared from Orngoth’s line of sight. The woman whom he had just met raced into the skirmish and sent the edge of her shield hard into the left ribcage of Lunka. There was another sharp crack that sounded clearly in unison with the blow, but Lunka did not even so much as grunt.

Orngoth realized now that the man and woman must belong to the legendary wardens of the forest that roamed the face of Wothlondia. Each region had its own guardians, oft times referred to as Rangers, Striders, Woodland Guardians or Foresters. These men and women traveled the area in groups, protecting the people and the roads from peril such as this.

Orngoth began to make his way down the hill with a purpose now. For the first time in his life, he had a clear understanding of his path. He knew what he should do. He broke into a light run, then a full out sprint toward the fight, brandishing the new greatclub in both of his mighty hands and raising it above his head as he charged straight for Lunka.

The Forester woman was fending off and mostly avoiding Lunka’s assaults, and those that she could not rung solidly off her steel shield. She was on the defensive, yet holding her own, Orngoth saw, as he exited the brush and made it to Lunka’s side.

The ogre was so intent on his foe that he did not hear Orngoth approach until it was too late. Orngoth’s ram-horned helm dipped with his head as he placed his shoulder into the rear left flank of Lunka’s exposed back, knocking him off balance and eventually to the ground as he stumbled and fell awkwardly to the soil, face first.

Lunka spun to face this latest adversary. His eyes widened as he realized it to be Orngoth. His face became a mask of hatred and his eyes narrowed to level a most deadly stare upon him.

“So… the pup has come to fight,” Lunka voiced, slowly clambering to his feet again. He threw his arms back while taking in a deep breath that caused his massive chest and bulbous belly to expand with air. Most of Lunka’s animal furs and leathers had fallen from his shoulders, leaving his massive, yellow-pigmented skin exposed for all to see.

“And for the wrong side of the fight,” Lunka added calmly, a cruel smile crossing his face. “This time, I kill you and not even Muurg can save you!”

With that, Lunka braced to charge, but the sound of tearing flesh interrupted the attack as the Forester woman managed to penetrate Lunka’s hide with her longsword. Blood streamed steadily from the few wounds she had succeeded in making. Lunka looked curiously at her, like one would stare at an annoying insect, until the bloodlust returned and his eyes glazed over with the red of rage.

He swatted at her once, twice, thrice and then a fourth time, consecutively hammering straight down upon her shield. Finally he shot a left punch out with such force that it knocked her backward and to the ground. Her shield flew wide as she sprawled on the grass at the foot of the southern hill where Orngoth had been perched only moments ago. She was clearly dazed and vulnerable and Lunka stood over her, meaning to deliver a double handed hammer fist intended to end her life.

“Do you fear the ‘
pup’
?” called Orngoth to the ogre. Lunka stopped and turned his attention to him. He could see that the anger controlled the ogre barbarian fully. Just then, Orngoth caught sight of the male Forester in his peripheral vision as he ran swiftly and silently to the aid of the stunned woman. Quite possibly the man had killed Bengog, for Orngoth could not see around the wagons.

Lunka’s left arm lunged out and caught the man by his throat, raised him from the soil and snapped his neck. It all happened so swiftly that Orngoth could do nothing to prevent it. And Lunka did all this with his eyes still fixed on Orngoth. He had never even turned them to regard the approaching Forester. In one motion, Lunka discarded the clearly deceased man and charged.

Orngoth counter-charged. The two of them met in the middle and slammed into one another as Orngoth gave into the bloodlust, too, allowing it to fuel him. His vision dimmed and blurred as the impact sent him reeling and stumbling backward some ten paces before he fell to his rump. He fuzzily saw two identical images of Lunka approach him and land another tremendous blow upon his chest. Lunka stood over Orngoth and screamed at him, mocking him or something, since although Orngoth saw his lips move, he could not hear due to the ringing in his ears.

He had felt his ribs crack with that blow, too, and this despite his own tough hide and size. He was not Lunka’s equal in size or in strength.

After a moment, the words began to make sense and his vision began to clear. Lunka was playing with him.

“The pup is not that big! Not that strong either,” he heard Lunka bellow, arms raised in apparent victory and no longer pressing the attack.

Orngoth kicked out with his left foot, connecting with Lunka’s knee. This sent the ogre’s leg out wide and knocked him off balance. Orngoth rolled past him and retrieved his greatclub, which had fallen to the side after the initial charge, grasped it and stood. He interrupted Lunka’s next swing with the solid wood of the club, and bark was sent airborne with the power of the attack.

Orngoth countered with a sideways swing of the club, connecting with Lunka’s ribs. He heard another distinct crack. It was where the Forester woman had landed her initial shield edge strike, he realized.  Another blow immediately followed, though with one hand on the club and to the right side this time. Lunka easily countered the intended feint and batted the club aside with an arrogant smile. Then Orngoth planted his right fist into the left ribcage again, causing an involuntary bark of pain from the massive ogre. Again Orngoth landed another solid punch into the same area. Lunka backhanded him in the side of the head, knocking him to the ground, but instead of pressing the advantage, the ogre doubled over in pain.

Orngoth retrieved his greatclub and moved toward Lunka, who howled in agony and rage, the bloodlust running through him. His muscles seemed to explode from beneath the skin of his arms as he shook with fury. But, before he could do anything, a sharp point of a sword protruded from his right side. Behind him stood the Forester woman, both hands around the hilt of her longsword. Having made the strike, her shield somehow found its way solidly into her grip in the blink of an eye.

Lunka instinctively swung at her again and again, ignoring the steel that was now seemingly part of his body, yet the Forester shrugged off blow after blow from the heavily muscled ogre. Over and over, her shield blocks parried the ogre’s assault. She even placed a few of her own ripostes now and again as Lunka’s defenses were exposed. She used the shield itself like a weapon, Orngoth admired. So, while she had his attention, he charged at Lunka once more, barreling into his weakened left side and slamming him to the floor.

The greatclub went to work then, hammering repeatedly on the ogre’s hard frame. With each blow another crack was heard. Orngoth ignored the pleas and howls of pain from this horrible ogre who had tortured him for years. He swung his club again and again, feeling no remorse as he broke bones, turning them to powder, until Lunka stopped moving.

Orngoth felt a hand on his arm and swung his club again, this time at the thing that would divert him from his focus. He smote the Forester to the ground with that blow.

“Orngoth! No!” he heard through the bloodlust. “Orngoth! No!”

He towered over her, his weapon held high, but finally he recognized the woman for who she was and heard the mention of his name. His eyes cleared once more and he let out a breath that he had been unknowingly holding in for a moment.

“You… know my name?” was all that he could manage as he allowed her to stand. He looked down at his club, seeming to see for the first time the blood that caked its far end.

“Wha—?”

“You do not remember what you have just done?” the woman asked, lowering her hood to stare at him. “And yes,” she added, shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand. “I know you.”

This intrigued Orngoth and his eyes widened and softened at that admission.

“You are the half-breed son of Celeste,” she declared calmly. “I would recognize those blue eyes anywhere. And you—“

“My mother? You knew her?!”

“Celeste was your mother, yes,” she finally admitted. “I have been tracking your whereabouts for over a decade. I made a promise to your mother years ago, when she died.”

“How did—?” he asked her as his blue eyes began to moisten.

“She died giving you life,” the woman gently explained. Orngoth said nothing. He merely stood frozen in place while a tumult of emotions bombarded him. A tear streamed down his left cheek and he stared blankly for a few moments.

“My name is Lynnai,” the woman said, bowing, after a moment of silence. “I have two things for you. Your mother bade me find you and give them to you and I promised her I would do that.”

She produced a magnificent jewel which shone with different hues as the light caught it.

“This is a magical gem that shifts color at times. Your mother did not say much of its other benefits, if any,” she said, holding it out before her in offering.

Grasping the gem in his hands, Orngoth felt a sudden peace wash over him, though he believed it to be a coincidence from having been gifted this unique item.