In the Company of Ogres

Twenty-six

Ned had never been swift, and the mob broken into chaos all about him diminished his speed. The only reason he wasn’t knocked to the ground and trampled to death was that many of the surrounding soldiers, realizing Ned was the great roc’s target, shied away from him. Kevin would’ve easily overtaken him, except that despite the enchantment digesting in the roc’s stomach, he wasn’t a very bright beast. He was terrifically intelligent for a roc, which made him only slightly smarter than a keenly sensible boulder. In the panicked crowd he had a bit of trouble picking out Ned from all the other darting morsels. His vicious, barbed beak would pluck a prospective tidbit, and if by chance it turned out to be a tasty goblin, he’d slurp it down. If it were an ogre or elf or some other morsel offensive to his peculiar dietary preferences, he’d hurl it away in disgust.

His thundering footsteps crushed fleeing soldiers, and more than once he lost his balance and toppled over, crushing even more and growing irritated.

Swearing, Ace swatted the roc across the head with an iron club and yanked at the reins. Kevin ignored his rider and continued the search, scooping up three goblins in his maw, swallowing them whole.

“Neeeeeeeeeeeeed!” he howled.

A flash of recognition twinkled in the bird’s enchanted brain. One speck, easier to spot because the other specks avoided it, rushed toward the safety of a building. Kevin spread his wings, hopped in the air, and sailed across the courtyard to land with a crash between Ned and his escape.

The monster stabbed at him with a pointed beak. Ned barely stumbled backward in time, but Kevin raised his head in a flash and struck again. Ace managed to hit a sensitive spot just above the eye. Kevin’s head veered. His beak gouged the ground scant feet from Ned.

Kevin shook fiercely and jumped about in an effort to rid himself of his passenger. Ace held tight, cursing, his pipe clenched tightly in his determined jaws.

“Is that all you got?” he taunted. “C’mon, Kevin boy, I expected more!”

In his wild thrashing the roc spun around, and his long, serpentine tail thumped the ground again and again. Ned rolled to one side, barely avoiding a flattening. He rolled to the other without a second to spare. But the third swat fell with certain doom.

Lewis and Martin intercepted the strike. The twins, sharing one body with the strength of two ogres, sank to their knees but stopped the collision. They held the tail, struggling against its spasms. Kevin grew even more furious, with a goblin banging his skull and ogres grasping his tail.

Ned gaped when he should’ve been running. It’d been so long since death had been anything more than an inconvenience. His flight reflexes had atrophied.

Kevin finally snapped his head hard enough to send Ace flying. He sailed high in the air toward the other side of the citadel, probably to bounce on his rubbery goblin butt with only a bruise to show for it.

Ned turned and dashed toward the nearest building in the opposite direction. He tripped over a goblin running around in panicked circles and was knocked down by a fleeing ore. These hardly stopped him, as he was too focused on escape to notice a few bruises and scrapes.

A new glimmer of intelligence flashed in Kevin’s eye. He cracked his tail in Ned’s direction. The twins lost their grip and were hurled to bounce twice on the cobblestones before landing atop Ned. Lewis was out cold, and Martin, stunned, could barely groan. Ned couldn’t move at all as Kevin stamped his way over. The roc brushed aside the twins with a fresh, uncharacteristic delicate sweep of his talons. Ned, still not quite ready to lie down and die, crawled for it. His progress ended with a smashing roc foot in his path.

He curled up in a ball and waited for death. He presumed it wouldn’t be a long wait.

Kevin laughed. Hot breath washed over Ned. He dared open his eye and look into the roc’s face.

“It will not be an easy death for you, Ned,” said Kevin. “No crushing jaws, no sudden end.”

Ned stared down the roc’s gullet. “You can’t do this, Belok. Killing me won’t hurt me. It’ll only destroy the universe.”

Kevin cocked his head to one side, then another.

“Who’s Belok?”

The roc was the same color as goblins because he’d eaten so many, but he wasn’t a goblin. And he had Belok’s voice, his intellect, and his hate of Ned through a quirk of digestion and a bit of magic. But Kevin wasn’t Belok, and where even the dark wizard might’ve hesitated to sacrifice the entire universe for his revenge, Kevin only knew Ned must suffer, must die for some very good reason that the monster couldn’t quite remember. Kevin was still more roc than wizard, and so he was little troubled by subtleties of motivation.

He seized Ned by a leg, delicately so as not to break anything just yet, for Kevin wanted to enjoy every bit of Ned’s suffering. The roc spread his wings to fly away to a less distracting location.

A javelin pierced his shoulder, quickly followed by another. The wounds weren’t deep, but the pain pushed aside his higher reasoning. He shrieked, releasing Ned, who fell hard to the ground with the wind knocked from him. By some miracle nothing felt broken, but he could barely get to his knees.

Regina hurled a third javelin and held out her empty hand so that Miriam, carrying a bundle, could give her another.

Frank lifted Ned and passed the battered, bruised commander to a nearby ogre. “Get him out of here.”

Ralph saluted. “Yes, sir.” He roughly threw Ned over his shoulder and ran. Every thumping step rattled Ned’s brain.

Kevin spread his wings wide. His green feathers ruffled. He lowered his head and charged his attackers. Frank held his ground. When the roc was about to tear him in half with a vicious swiping beak, Frank punched Kevin across the nose. The monster staggered, more shocked than injured. Nothing had ever challenged his charge before. He snapped again. Frank unleashed a solid uppercut that swayed Kevin, even buckling his knees and knocking loose a tooth, and Kevin’s unfocused rage found a new target.

“Get out of the way!” shouted Regina. “I can’t get a clear shot!”

“Can’t get a clear shot?” said Miriam. “The thing’s as big as… well, as big as a damned big roc.”

Miriam was correct. Regina had plenty of target if she was interested in sticking dozens of javelins into the beast. But all the vital points were behind the very large ogre currently bloodying his knuckles on Kevin’s stubborn chin.

“I don’t see you doing anything,” said Regina. “Other than carrying my spears.”

“You’re right.” Miriam dropped the weapons. She closed her eyes and began to hum, and the air around the siren shimmered darkly. Regina got a bad feeling about that.

Frank did his part to distract Kevin. Regina had never seen him fight before. His intimidating size cooled most tempers. She knew ogres to be strong, and Frank, being an unusually large specimen, was even stronger. But she’d never imagined him capable of fending off a roc single-handed. That took more than strength. That took skill. Frank was remarkably agile. It wasn’t a dancer’s grace, a fencer’s elegance. Ogres weren’t built for that. It was the art of the brawl, the confident form of an extraordinary pugilist. Not a single wasted move. Every strike delivered with deadly precision. Whenever Kevin lunged, he received a hindering blow across his beak, over and over again.

Miriam opened her eyes. The black orbs were now literally blood red. Sanguine tears ran down her cheeks. The veins on her fins throbbed. Her body trembled. The cobblestones cracked around her feet. Whatever the siren was up to, Regina hoped it would be quick. Even with all his skill and strength Frank couldn’t hold Kevin forever.

Tired of getting smacked across his sore beak, Kevin tried to crush Frank beneath his foot. The attempt pushed Frank on his back, where he strained his immense muscles to keep Kevin from pulverizing him. It was a losing effort. The foot fell inch by inch until it pressed down on his chest.

Kevin chuckled. “Die, Ned.”

“I’m… not… Ned,” he wheezed.

Kevin’s brow furrowed. It was the first time a roc’s brow had ever furrowed — in fact, rocs were incapable of the expression. Only the dark magic coursing through his veins allowed Kevin to do it. He shrugged. This too was a roc first.

“You’ll do.”

A javelin buried itself in his neck. Green blood sprayed from the wound. Frank’s massive muscles discovered newfound strength and shoved the stunned beast off him. He clasped his hands together and clocked Kevin across the face. The force snapped the roc’s head back and spun his entire body. His serpentine tail whipped around, caught the ogre. Frank was flung across the courtyard and hit a wall hard enough to smash through it.

“Frank!” called Regina, though she wasn’t certain why.

Kevin, blood dripping from the javelins piercing his flesh, turned his attention upon the Amazon. Regina prepared to throw another, but it wasn’t likely to stop Kevin.

“Whatever you’re doing, do it fast,” she said to Miriam.

There was a note hidden behind the scales of melody by the twisted gods of harmony. It didn’t belong in this world, but it was known by the siren race. Other races spoke of it in whispers. Sirens spoke of it not at all for fear a slip of their charmed voices might blast continents to dust. It could not be taught. It could only be found by a siren of sufficient desperation and skill. Miriam’s voice was barely adequate by siren standards, but she was desperate. And she found it.

Her lips parted ever so slightly. The final note was silent, but none would’ve heard if she’d made a sound. For the earth rumbled and the clouds screamed. Miriam’s song surged from her throat, blossoming from her mouth into a twenty-foot-wide blast of boiling air and slicing winds. The cobblestones heaved themselves into the air. The note poured over Regina, knocking her to the ground. It rushed into the roc, who struggled to remain upright against the gale. The blast continued on, disintegrating a small guard shack that had fallen into disuse. It carried past that, shattering a section of Copper Citadel’s outer wall. Still it continued, scouring the grass from the earth, uprooting trees, and freezing the river miles away. By then much of its force was spent, and it surrendered to the wind, which snatched it away into the sky where it infected a fluffy white cloud. The cloud darkened and grew angry, and for the next six centuries it would roam the skies in search of weddings, harvest festivals, and other joyous occasions upon which to rain down bricks or flaming dog dung or dead beetles.

It was a good thing Miriam’s voice was not even slightly more skilled or all of Copper Citadel would’ve been destroyed, blasted to a barren field without even a piece of rubber or single male corpse to remember her by. As it was, every male within the sound of her voice (which couldn’t be heard in the first place) was stricken with headache, nausea, and bleeding ears.

Miriam collapsed as Regina rose. The Amazon’s gender spared her from the onslaught.

The roc twisted his head to one side. Kevin appeared unharmed despite the awesome power directed against him.

He’d lost a few feathers from the trembling air and had been unsettled by the quaking earth.

“It should’ve destroyed him,” Miriam croaked incredulously, barely audible. “Nothing can withstand the final note.”

And it was hard to imagine anything short of a god not being obliterated by the siren’s song. But the roc rose to steady feet and cackled.

“Kevin’s a girl,” realized Regina. “Those damn goblins misnamed her.”

Regina considered running for it, but Miriam wasn’t even able to stand. She should’ve left the siren to die, but it wasn’t her way to abandon a sister-in-arms. They hadn’t gotten the chance to finish their fight, and she would be damned if some rampaging beast would deprive her of her rightful victory. She’d rather die first.

She tightened her grip on her javelin, but Kevin thundered past. The roc had no interest in such distractions as those two nongoblin morsels below her. She’d found her focus again.

“Neeeeeeeeed!” she shrieked.

Paperwork occupied most of Gabel’s day, so it wasn’t unexpected to find him in his office when Kevin started her rampage. A glance at the pandemonium outside his window encouraged him to remain indoors. It wasn’t uncommon for a roc or two to get loose. The handlers of the program usually got everything back in order without too much difficulty. One of the smaller buildings might get crushed, and it was expected that some personnel would get eaten or flattened. Since he had no desire to be either, he wisely tucked himself under his desk and waited for the noise to die down. He dared crawl over to his filing cabinet just long enough to pluck out a standard Petty Chaos and/or Minor Tumultuous Calamity report, which he filled out. No reason to wait until the last minute.

The sounds of disorder continued much longer than Gabel expected. Usually the escaped roc slurped down its fill, mostly goblins, for which Gabel was immensely grateful as the Legion didn’t bother with death notices for the species. The sated bird could then be led in lethargic agreeableness back to the pens. Several times he heard someone shout Ned’s name, and with a bit of luck the commander might’ve died in the incident. Gabel craned out his arm and opened the top drawer of his desk, where he kept the Accidental Expiration Notices. He had one all ready for Ned, with everything but date, time, and manner of death filled out. Gabel had another form recommending himself for promotion under that. The recommendation was worthless as no one of any rank had endorsed it. But he still liked to look at it.

Something green and huge lurched past Gabel’s window, rattling the entire office with her terrific, thumping footfalls. “Neeeeeeed!” screamed the unfamiliar voice. The monster stopped and lowered her head to peer through the window with one eye, but she didn’t see Gabel under his desk.

“Come out, Ned!” shrieked Kevin. “You can’t hide forever!” She stomped away with a growl.

Gabel crawled to the window and closed the curtains. He didn’t know where the roc had found her voice, but it was obvious Ned had something to do with it. Regardless of Never Dead Ned’s leadership talents, dubious at best, he was definitely a man followed by ill fortune. Demons and wizards and dragons and rampaging, talking rocs were proof of that. Gabel hadn’t liked any of the company’s previous commanders, but he hadn’t gotten rid of them for any other reason than personal advancement. When Ned was finally disposed of, regardless of whether Gabel received a promotion out of it, he would still breathe a little easier.

The office door opened before Gabel could creep back under his desk. He sprang to his feet. “Dropped my pen,” he explained before even looking up.

It was Ralph and Ned. The ogre clutched Ned by the neck. One squeeze of those fingers would crush Ned’s spine. Ned seemed to know, judging by how stiffly he squirmed in Ralph’s grasp.

“What are you doing?” asked Gabel.

“We gotta talk,” said Ralph. “About him.” He lifted Ned like a kitten and shook the human’s fragile form. Ned sputtered.

Gabel leaned on his desk. “You idiot. You were supposed to leave me out of this.”

“That’s what we gotta talk about.”

Ned was turning blue. Ralph casually tossed Ned, gasping and choking, into a chair in the corner. “Stay put, sir.”

“What’s going on?” asked Ned breathlessly.

“Quiet, sir,” said Gabel, “this doesn’t concern you.”

Ralph imitated the small ore’s leaning posture. The ogre’s weight threatened to mash the desk. “I’ve been thinking…”

Gabel groaned. He hated it when minions started thinking. When would everyone finally realize how much easier life would be if they left the thinking to him?

“What’s in this for me?” asked Ralph.

“I would think that would be obvious,” said Gabel. “You don’t like Ned.”

“Yeah, so? I don’t like lots of guys. Killing one asshole doesn’t really make my life easier.”

Ned rose from the chair as if to bolt for the door.

“Don’t make me break your legs, sir,” admonished Ralph.

Ned sat down.

“As I was saying, I’m taking all the risks here, and you’re getting all the perks. Doesn’t seem like a good deal to me. I think it’s time to renegotiate.”

Gabel chuckled. “You idiot. There’s nothing to renegotiate now. Ned knows you were planning to kill him, and now he knows I’m in on it too. If he walks out of this office, we both hang. We’re both in this together now, and you have every bit as much to lose as I do. The first rule of negotiation is you’ve got to have something of worth or at least the illusion of something of worth, and you’ve got nothing.” He grinned smugly. “Now kill him like you were supposed to so we can figure out what to do with the body.”

Ralph grinned back. “Oh, I’ve got something.”

He grabbed the desk in both hands and with one swift motion, cracked it across his knee. The splinters exploded in the room, driving a few choice wedges into the walls, toppling books, knocking down the curtains, and splitting one of Gabel’s collection of dwarf skulls. One shard nearly skewered Ned through the eye. Another came dangerously close to piercing Gabel’s foot. Several shards drove themselves into Ralph’s thick skin, piercing his cheek, neck, and brow. Blood trickled, but Ralph seemed not to care.

Gabel and Ned gulped.

Ralph dropped the shattered halves of furniture. “See, the way I got it worked out, I’m not going to be in more trouble for breaking two officer necks than one. So we aren’t negotiating for Ned’s life. We’re talking about yours.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” said Gabel. “Hey, you said it yourself: I don’t like Ned. And I don’t like you either. Truthfully I suspect you’re every bit the asshole he is. Probably a little more of one.”

Gabel snarled. He bent and grabbed a Furniture Requisition from the paperwork lying all across his office floor. Bit of good luck that one happened to be on top. But Ralph’s devious nature was a bit of bad fortune. Gabel would have to be more careful when choosing his minions in the future.

“What do you want then?”

“I want to stop digging graves, but I want to keep getting paid for it,” replied Ralph. “And I want free beer. Maybe some new boots.”

“Is that it?”

Ralph realized perhaps he wasn’t the shrewd negotiator he’d first thought. He knew killing Ned for Gabel should be worth a lot, but Ralph was damned if he could put a solid value on it. And he was a very simple ogre with very simple needs. He would’ve been happy with all the previously mentioned items, but that Gabel seemed untroubled by their request told Ralph he hadn’t asked for enough. The ogre plumbed the depths of his mind, but it was a very shallow metaphoric pool, and he struck his metaphoric head on the metaphoric rocks at the bottom and was momentarily stunned.

As for Ned, he was slightly insulted by the exchange. He liked to think his life was worth more than a new pair of boots. The indignity spurred him to think of escape again. He wouldn’t let the universe die over a bottomless mug of ale. He didn’t move just yet. Ralph was poised too near the only exit. Ned hoped when an opportunity came he’d spot it in time.

“Anything else?” asked Gabel impatiently.

“No, I guess not.” Ralph snapped his fingers, though the meatiness of the digits produced more of a loud slap than a snap. “Wait. I’d like a girlfriend. Can you requisition one of those?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Are you satisfied now?”

Ralph considered asking for more things, but the only other request that came to mind was some sort of magic sword. He didn’t know if Gabel could get one of those, and Ralph didn’t feel right asking for it anyway. Killing Ned would be far too easy. He couldn’t in good conscience demand much more for the job.

Ned dashed for the door. He attempted to duck past Ralph’s iron grip, but the office was so small and the ogre so large that there wasn’t enough room. Ralph caught Ned by the arm and tossed him back in the chair.

“What if you’re wrong about this?” asked Ralph. “What if Ned comes back again?”

Gabel knew he wasn’t wrong. Ned’s fear was apparent, and an immortal had no use for fear. But Gabel had not advanced this far through sloppy assassination, and he couldn’t be absolutely sure Ned would remain dead. That was why he’d wanted Ralph to slay the commander. If Ned rose again, Gabel would have plausible deniability. Now that wasn’t an option.

“We’ll bind and gag the corpse and hide it someplace private,” said Gabel. “We’ll feed him to the rocs if we have to. Shouldn’t be anything left to rise after that.”

“Works for me,” agreed Ralph.

“Wait,” said Ned. “You can’t do this. If you kill me, I’ll destroy the universe.”

“Not that again,” sighed Ralph. “You’re going to have to come up with a more believable lie than that.”

Ned shouted for help as the shadow of the ogre fell across him. It was no use. There was far too much racket going on outside. The thudding footsteps of Kevin alone were enough to drown out most noise. Ned kicked and punched at Ralph with no effect. The ogre wrapped his thick hands around Ned’s face, muffling any screams.

“I bet if I rip off his head he’ll stay dead,” said Ralph.

“Don’t do that,” replied Gabel. “Too messy. Just break his neck and get it over with.”

“That’s not much fun.”

Ned squirmed and twisted. His hands clawed at Ralph. His legs kicked out to bounce harmlessly off the ogre’s ribs.

“You’re not doing it for fun,” said Gabel. “Just finish him off.”

Ned’s teeth found purchase in a meaty mound of flesh in Ralph’s palm, one of the few sensitive areas in his thick-skinned body. Ralph yelped and dropped Ned. He ducked between the ogre’s legs and scrambled for the door. Gabel jumped in the way and kicked Ned across the face. Ned crumpled, and Gabel drew his sword.

“For crying out loud, do I have to do everything myself?”

Ned glanced up at the sword raised to behead him. He didn’t think Miriam would be saving him this time.

“Uh, Gabel,” said Ralph.

Gabel refused to be distracted any longer. He didn’t turn around, and so he didn’t see what Ned and Ralph saw. A single roc eye glared through the window.

“Neeeeeeeeeed!” shrieked Kevin as she shoved her head through the wall. Ralph scrambled to one side of the cramped office, barely avoiding being skewered by the roc’s barbed beak. Ned curled in a ball, the most effective means of defense at his disposal.

Kevin snatched up Gabel in her toothy beak and withdrew her head to get a better look at her latest morsel in the sunlight. She discovered with some disappointment it was not Ned. But it was the largest, juiciest goblin she’d ever come across. Only after she’d slurped him down did she notice the unsatisfying orcish flavor. Her hideous face twisted into an unusually gruesome sneer, she shrieked and dragged her tongue across the cobblestones, scraping away the clingy bits of ore aftertaste.

Ned and Ralph had put aside their differences and now sought to take advantage of the distraction to escape. The roc’s body blocked the hole in the wall, and a mound of rubble blocked the door.

Kevin thrust her head back into the office.

“Get out of my way!” Ralph shoved Ned aside and prepared to break down the door with a thrust of his shoulder. Instead he got his head nipped off by Kevin’s clumsy beak. Ralph’s ogre nervous system locked his corpse into instant upright rigidity, and the exit was rendered more blocked than before.

Kevin lunged and pushed harder, and the wall buckled and bits of ceiling fell as inch by inch she moved closer to Ned frozen in the corner. If the roc were only a bit smarter, she could’ve dropped to her belly and easily angled in to snag him. But it was only a matter of moments.

Ned laughed: a derisive cackle at the forces of fate that seemed so damned determined to see him dead. If he wasn’t the Mad Void now, he was at least mad. But he was a madman with a purpose. He would be damned if he’d willingly slide down Kevin’s throat. He’d fight all the way down, and if possible he’d give her a good kick in the ass as she excreted him.

Gabel’s sword was lodged between two of her wicked teeth. The hilt pointed out at him, and it waggled as she snapped her jaws. Ned, heedless of any danger, reached for it. It came loose almost as soon as he touched it and seemed to fall into his hand. By some miracle he managed not to lose a limb to the crushing beak.

The blade wasn’t long enough to reach the roc’s vitals. Surprising himself most of all, Ned pounced on Kevin’s beak between snaps. He took hold of one of her nostrils with his free hand, and growling, she pulled her head out of the office.

The beast’s eyes were on the side of her face. She twisted her head side to side to get a better view of the prey stubbornly clinging to her beak. Ned raised the sword and hacked at Kevin’s face. The angle was awkward; most of his strength was invested in tight, whitened knuckles. The blows penetrated the flesh only to bounce off the monster’s thick skull. Finally through sheer luck and persistence he managed to plunge the blade into the roc’s eye. The angle was just right and the sword just long enough to pierce Kevin’s three-ounce brain.

The realization of her death took a moment to reach the rest of her body. Kevin swayed. She coughed. Her eye glazed. Her feathers ruffled, and her legs wobbled. With one last horrid gasp, the roc tumbled over and collapsed on the ruins of Gabel’s office.

Buried, barely able to draw breath in the overwhelming, sooty darkness, Ned nevertheless chuckled. He was alive. He’d cheated death. For once the icy touch of oblivion had been put off. For once Ned had won. He might suffocate in the next moment, but that seemed someone else’s problem just now.

He heard digging above him. A stone was flung aside to shine sunlight in his face.

“Is this him?” asked one of the shadows over him.

“The pendulum,” said another. “See how it burns.”

Hot stone pushed against Ned’s forehead. His skin smoldered, and he smelled smoke, but he didn’t feel any pain.

They lifted him roughly from the rubble. His eye adjusted. They weren’t soldiers, but lanky, purple-skinned, winged creatures with small horns jutting from their brows.

Demons.

Ned was too tired to struggle. He had nothing left. Whatever last portions of vigor he’d possessed were buried somewhere under Kevin’s ten-ton corpse. One of the demons tossed Ned over his shoulder. They spread their wings and took to the air.

Demons filled the sky. Dozens upon dozens of the flying monsters. He squirmed, but there could be no escape. And even if he did manage to slip free and avoid the dozens of hands that tried to catch him, he’d fall to his death. Either way, fate had beaten him. As it always did.

Ogre Company milled underneath him. Regina shouted his name, but he couldn’t pick her out of the crowd. Soon the demons had taken him beyond the walls of Copper Citadel.

The last thing he noticed was Nibbly Ned. The vulture perched atop a tower, watching Ned’s abduction with cold, black eyes and an almost clinical detachment. And Ned laughed. And he kept on laughing, though he couldn’t say why.