The Ogre's Pact (34 page)

Despite his weariness, the scout nocked an arrow as they stepped onto the canopy the fomorians had laid over the ogre lines. Soon, the warriors flanking them would be in position to try for rear shots. He had to be ready to answer. Trying to summon the strength to draw Bear Driller’s bowstring, Tavis glanced over his shoulders-then a tremendous echoing crash rolled over him as the Fir Palace came apart, untanned hides and fir trunks flying in every direction.

At first, Tavis thought Goboka had blasted the lodge with a spell-until he saw the hill giants, following the example of their fomorian slaves, come crashing through the walls. The whole lodge seemed to be exploding, like a hive no longer able to contain its angry bees, and suddenly there were giants everywhere.

The rain of arrows pounding the trio’s shields dwindled to a trickle, then died away completely as the ogres scrambled to dodge the canopies of tattered hides and splintered tree trunks being hurled at them by the hill giants. Morten and Brianna tossed the heavy bucklers aside and, dragging Tavis between them, scrambled away from the ogre lines, following the fomorians toward the nearest stand of fir trees.

As the trio sprinted into the copse, powerful jolts and heavy shocks began to rumble from the direction of the Fir Palace. Tavis glanced back and saw that the ogres had recovered from the initial shock of their foes’ charge and were again firing. A handful of hill giants already lay sprawled on the ground, and several others were taking their last lurching steps. But many more were still charging forward behind their huge shields, their long legs carrying them toward their enemies with incredible speed.

A different kind of crashing began to roll across the field: the sound of massive clubs smashing anything that might conceal an ogre archer. Fir trees came tumbling down, boulders went clattering across the valley floor, hillocks of soft ground burst apart. Tavis and his companions did not tarry to watch the carnage, but continued deeper into the stand. The sudden reversal of the battle’s course made little difference to them. They had to put as much distance between themselves and the victors, whether ogres or hill giants, as possible.

By the time they finally caught the fomorians, Tavis could hardly stand. His vision had narrowed to a long black tunnel, his shaking legs could barely support him, and his throat was so swollen he feared it would close up entirely. Fighting the urge to collapse, he staggered over to the bank of the tiny stream where their allies had stopped, then threw himself face first into the cold waters.

When he finished drinking, the scout found Brianna and Morten standing next to him. From outside the thicket, the constant thunder of hammering clubs and falling giants suggested the combat had grown even more intense during the few moments it had taken him to quench his thirst.

Ig and the dancing girl had crossed to sit on the opposite shore and were calmly pulling apart the rotten carcass of a deer they had apparently brought from the Fir Palace in the cook’s shoulder satchel. Although the meat was so putrid that even an ogre wouldn’t have eaten it, Tavis was not surprised to see the pair gorging themselves on it. The fomorian diet consisted of the most noxious, virulent refuse that they could find-and if something was too fresh, they would often take it home to rot for a time.

Brianna placed her hand on Tavis’s shoulder. “If you’ve quenched your thirst, I should cast my spells.”

The scout was disappointed to see that the princess did not meet his eyes. He started to ask if something was wrong, then thought better of it and remained silent. Of course something was wrong. Last night. Brianna had learned the truth about her father’s betrayal. Tavis could only guess how that knowledge made her feel-sad, angry, lost perhaps-but he knew for certain that those emotions would be as powerful as the terrible despair he was feeling over Avner’s loss.

In the back of his mind, the scout kept hearing the boy’s footsteps padding through the thicket. He half expected the young thief to appear and announce that the whole thing had been an elaborate joke, but Tavis knew that would not happen. Thousand-foot falls were not jokes. Avner was gone, and all the wishful thinking in the world would not bring him back.

When Tavis made no move to lie down, Brianna gently pushed him onto his back and purified his injuries with blessed water, then laid her amulet on his stomach wound. “I’ll start with this one.”

“No.” Tavis moved the talisman up to his sternum. The stomach wound was by far the most dangerous and agonizing of his injuries, but he didn’t care. He had no intention of allowing Brianna to go the way of Avner, and he would be better able to defend her if his bruised chest did not interfere with drawing his bowstring. “If you only have two spells, cast them on my chest and my arm.”

Brianna frowned. “This is only a bruise,” she said, touching his discolored sternum. “It isn’t dangerous.”

“It hinders me when I pull my bow,” the scout replied. “And right now, that’s more dangerous than any wound I have.”

The princess nodded, then did as he asked. Tavis could not help hissing as Hiatea’s symbol began to glow with white heat, searing his already scalded skin.

The sound drew gap-toothed smiles from both fomorians.

“I thought we were on the same side,” Tavis complained.

“Pain good,” replied the female. She gave Ig a coy smile, then added, “Pain mean you alive.”

“Then maybe you’d like some of your own,” growled Morten.

“Don’t mind them,” Tavis said. As he spoke, the color of his bruised chest was lightening from blackish-purple to pale crimson, and he could feel the goddess’s strength coursing through his bones. “That’s just their nature.”

“If you say so.” The bodyguard stood and started back toward the battle. “I’ll go see what’s happening at the Fir Palace.”

As Morten left, Brianna moved her talisman to the scout’s arm and cast her second healing spell. To the fomorians’ obvious disappointment, Tavis remained quiet as the scarred flesh on his forearm slowly smoothed itself back to normal. He felt more of Hiatea’s magic flowing up through his shoulder, and even the weakness caused by his dehydration seemed to fade.

Brianna left her talisman in place for several minutes. Only after the magical glow had faded and the silver had turned cold did she take it from Tavis’s arm.

“I hope that’s better.” She still did not meet his eyes.

The scout stood, then grabbed Bear Driller and drew the bowstring back. The effort caused a little pain in all his wounds, but he now felt more than strong enough to nock a few ogre arrows on its string.

“I should be able to kill a few ogres now,” he said.

“Then you’ll need some arrows,” Morten said, returning from his observation post. He was carrying a full quiver of ogre arrows in one hand and stone hand axe in the other. “I took these from a dead ogre at the edge of the stand.”

“The battle’s still going strong?” Tavis asked. The scout noticed that Morten’s throat wound was about to fester again, for it had grown red and swollen. There’s no sign that the ogres are coming after us?”

“They couldn’t if they wanted to.” The bodyguard handed the quiver to Tavis. “The giants are going after them like bears after dogs.”

The report alarmed the scout. “What about the shaman?” he asked. “Isn’t he doing anything to help his warriors?”

Morten shook his head. “Not that I can see.”

“We’d better get out of here, fast,” Tavis said. “If Goboka’s not helping his warriors, he’s looking for us.”

Tavis turned to leave, but when the fomorians stood up to follow, Morten grabbed the scout by the shoulder. “Are we going to let them come with us?”

“Ooo help you,” the female reminded Morten. “You help Ooo and Ig.”

“Smashing palace wall easy,” said Ig, stepping to Ooo’s side. “But need Tavis Burdun to leave valley.”

Tavis nodded. “It’s a fair bargain.”

“I suppose so.” The bodyguard stepped close to Tavis, then spoke more quietly. “But be careful. You can’t trust fomorians.”

“They deserve a chance,” Brianna said. She glanced at Tavis, then looked away. “I recall both of us saying the same thing about a certain firbolg-and look how wrong we were.”

“This is different,” Morten grumbled.

Tavis smiled to himself, then led the way through the thicket. With Ig half staggering and half hopping along behind them, there was no possibility of moving with any kind of stealth. The scout tried to reduce the likelihood of ambush by traveling as far ahead of his companions as practical, but he did not think his efforts would do much good. The fomorian’s gait was so clumsy that, even with the din of battle still raging around the Fir Palace, a careful listener almost anywhere in the valley would hear him crashing through the thicket. Tavis tried not to worry about the noise, since there was little he or anyone else could do about it.

In contrast to Ig, Ooo moved with the uncanny silence typical to most fomorians. Her immense figure seemed to glide through the thicket in slow motion. She made no wasted gestures, placed each foot with precision and care. She was so graceful that the scout even began to think of her as beautiful-though in a dangerous sort of way. Tavis had seen enough carnage wrought by her race to know fomorians used their remarkable stealth for purposes as twisted as their forms.

They reached the edge of the stand. The scout motioned for the others to wait, then stood behind a fir bole and studied the ground ahead. The small field was dotted with boulders, tufts of long yellow-green grass, and bright clumps of dainty alpine flowers. There was no sign of the battle between Goboka’s horde and the hill giants, but Tavis knew better than to assume there were no ogres nearby just because he did not see them.

Across the small field, a ridge of barren bedrock curved toward the cliff with the High Gate. The granite face stood at such an angle that neither the fault cave nor the timber road was visible, but the scout could see a well-traveled giant path leading up the crest of the ridge. From what little he remembered of the journey down from the gate, the trail was both long and arduous, and they would be visible for much of its length.

They could not risk ascending it during the day. Goboka would certainly see them, and with Ig staggering along in their company, they were not fast enough to flee the shaman. It would be better to wait until dark. He and Ooo would sneak up the trail first, slaying any sentries that the victors of today’s battle sent to guard the gate. Brianna and the others would follow later.

As the scout turned to tell the others of his decision, a sharp thunk sounded on the tree behind him. He dropped to the ground, an arrow already nocked. Something hissed past his head and thumped into the tree bole ahead, then bounced to the ground. It was not an ogre’s arrow, as he had expected. The missile was a small round rock, such as might be hurled from a sling.

Tavis’s first thought was of Avner, but of course that was ridiculous. The boy was dead.

Another stone hissed overhead and bounced off the same tree, pitting the bark just inches above the mark left by the first. The slinger was either missing on purpose. Tavis realized, or had just gauged the distance to his target. The scout scrambled into a seated position, looking in the direction from which the stones had come.

Across the field, a human boy stood behind a boulder, using one arm to gesture at Tavis. His other arm was bound to his side as though it had been injured.

Tavis did not lower his bow. Avner had fallen a thousand feet, and if his body was now standing across the field waving, the scout could think of only one explanation. Goboka had animated the boy’s corpse. The shaman was trying to lure them into a trap.

Tavis pulled his bowstring back.

Avner’s eyes widened, and he ducked down behind the boulder. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it!”

“Avner?” Tavis gasped. The boy certainly didn’t sound dead.

“What are you, blind?” The youth peered over the top of the boulder. “Of course it’s me.”

“But Kol… Rog pushed you off the platform!”

“Do I look like I fell a thousand feet?” Avner cautiously rose so that Tavis could see his entire body.

The scout had to admit that the boy looked far too healthy to have suffered the fall. Even if Kol had cushioned the youth’s landing, the impact would have twisted his body into something more akin to the fomorians. Tavis lowered his bow. Even if there had been reason to loose an arrow, he could not have hit his target. He was so filled with relief that his hands were trembling.

“How did you-“

“Later. There are ogres about,” the boy said. “That’s why I was trying to get your attention without shouting.”

“That wouldn’t have worked anyway,” Tavis replied, listening to Ig come crashing up behind him. “Stealth is no longer our strong point.”

“Then we’d better hurry.” Avner said. “I don’t know how long Basil will wait. He’s nervous about the ogres.”

“Basil?” asked Morten, joining the scout. The bodyguard sounded as suspicious as Tavis had been a moment earlier.

“He still wants his books,” Avner explained. “Now, are you coming or what? It’s not like I’m charging a toll.”

Tavis stood and led the way across the field. Once they were past the ridge and had a clear view of the High Gate, he could see why Avner was concerned. On top of the granite ridge, well beyond the bend where the scout could have seen them from the fir stand, a dozen ogres where sprinting toward the timber road. Goboka was behind them, strolling up the hill at a more leisurely pace. Fortunately for the scout and his friends, the cliff was casting a dark shadow over their group. Even if the shaman had heard them calling to each other, it would be difficult for him to find them in the deep shade.

No sooner had the scout reached this conclusion than the shaman’s head slowly turned toward their position. Despite the distance, Tavis could see a fierce purple light gleaming in his eyes, and he knew that the ogre had spied them.

“He sees us!” Brianna gasped.

“He can’t!” Avner replied. “I was hiding in these same shadows when he started up the trail, and he looked right at me without doing anything. Why should he see us now?”