The Ogre's Pact

4. Castle Hartwick

At last, Tavis reached the edge of the plateau and stopped to rest, legs aching and lungs burning after the long run from Coggin's Rise. Just ahead, the road descended over the lip of an enormous cliff that dropped a vast distance into the blue waters of the Clearwhirl River. From the middle of the river's deep currents rose a sheer-sided spire of granite, hundreds of feet high. Perched upon the summit of this craggy island, like a jagged white crown atop a pillar of black stone, sat the pale ramparts of Castle Hartwick.

To all appearances, the castle was as impregnable as it was huge. Flying turrets hung from every corner, and between each pair of jagged merlons stood a ballista manned by a guard in helm and breastplate. Even the towers, scratching at the clouds like a titan's pearly lances, were constructed of granite blocks so huge a storm giant could not have toppled them.

Tavis looked back across the spruce-dotted plateau. A short distance behind him, Avner was leading the horse he had stolen from Earl Dobbin. A short length of taut rope ran between the gelding's saddle horn and Mortal's chest, pulling the firbolg along as though he were a cloud. Behind the floating bodyguard came Basil, staggering and wheezing, skipping forward every now and then as Blizzard nipped at his rump.

When they finally caught up. Tavis did not give them a chance to rest. "Stay together," the scout said. "We're almost there, and I don't know how the sentries will react if they see a verbeeg coming down the road by himself."

Basil's bushy eyebrows came together. "Perhaps I should return to Stagwick and collect my books-"

"Those are Earl Dobbin's books, not yours," Tavis reminded him. "And you won't be safe alone. There are a lot of patrols this close to the castle, and it could prove fatal if they came across you."

Without awaiting Basil's response, Tavis turned away. The road ahead ran down a narrow ledge cut into the cliffside. It passed before a small watchhouse chiseled from the living stone, then curved sharply onto a long bridge that spanned the Clearwhirl's wide chasm.

As Tavis's small company walked clown the road, three sentries stepped from the watchhouse door. In honor of the princess's birthday, they had polished their armor and weapons to gleaming silver, and over their breastplates hung ceremonial tabards of red linen embossed with the king's white stag. The two youngest men carried long halberds. The oldest, a veteran with gray hair, bore a silver-sheened battle-axe identifying him as Sergeant of the Earls Bridge.

The two youngest guards came a few paces up the road, then stopped and crossed their weapons to bar the way to the bridge. "The sergeant stayed behind, standing at the watchhouse door.

"Halt and explain yourself. Tavis!" the sergeant called, casting a suspicious eye at Basil. He made no mention of the strung bow in the scout's hand, for the loyalty of firbolgs-and that of Tavis in particular-was well known. "Where is Lady Brianna? Why do you have her horse and bodyguard?"

"The lady has been taken by marauders." Tavis peered over the crossed polearms, looking down the road at the sergeant. "That's all you need know to let us pass."

The sergeant shook his head and pointed at Morten's body, still floating in the air. "I can't let you cross," he said. "Not with a verbeeg runecaster in your company."

Tavis did not try to argue. The only thing that made humans more nervous than giants was giant magic.

"Then send word to the king of our arrival," Tavis said. He would have suggested that Basil wait here, but feared the verbeeg might do something foolish-such as try to return to Stagwick for his books. "Rune magic or not, he'll want to hear about Brianna."

The sergeant came up the road and took the halberd from one of his sentries. "You heard what Tavis said- and ask High Priest Simon to come." he said. "Maybe His Eminence can help Morten."

"As you order, Hauk."

"The sentry turned and sprinted down onto the Earls Bridge, a magnificent structure resting on two flying buttresses mounted into opposite sides of the canyon wall. When the guard reached the other side, he slipped between the half-open gates and disappeared inside. Within moments, curious citizens had gathered atop the castle walls, thrusting their heads between the merlons to peer at Morten's floating body and Blizzard's empty saddle.

The castle gates swung open, and Hauk's sentry came scurrying out. Behind him, two members of the Giant Guard, the stone giant Gavorial and the frost giant Hrodmar, peered out of the gateway. Though the archway was fifteen feet tall, the pair had to stoop to look through the opening, filling it completely with their torsos and feces. Gavorial's gray hide and bald head seemed a strange contrast to Hrodmar's milky skin and unruly yellow beard, but Tavis knew they had more in common than appearances suggested. Like all members of the Giant Guard, they had been sent by their chieftains to protect Camden. In return, the king allowed traders from the giant tribes to use Hartsvale as a peaceful gathering place.

ONCE Hauk's sentry had crossed the bridge and reclaimed his halberd from the sergeant, Gavorial's sonorous voice echoed across the chasm. "Keep an arrow ready for that verbeeg, Tavis Burdun!" he called.

"The king's safety rests in your hands!"

After Tavis pulled an arrow from his quiver, the two giants withdrew inside the castle. Gavorial and Hrodmar would not be coming across the Clearwhirl, for even the Earls Bridge could not support such a tremendous weight. To enter Castle Hartwick, true giants forded the Clearwhirl on the opposite side of the island, then climbed a long and wearing path to the Giants Gate.

A blast of trumpets rang out from the castle walls, then the king and his retinue appeared. A looming figure who stood more than two heads above the earls and court officials surrounding him, Camden was built as solidly as a castle tower, with thick, sturdy legs and hulking shoulders that bulged like a bear's beneath his ermine cape. His long strides carried him across the bridge at a brisk pace, leaving his retainers to scurry along behind.

Soon, Tavis could see that Camden had already donned his ceremonial crown in preparation for the evening's festivities. It was a gaudy band of gold with seventeen bejeweled points, one for each of the giant tribes that had pledged friendship to Hartsvale. From beneath this circlet hung the king's two hair braids, while he wore his heavy beard trimmed into the neat square favored by the nobility.

Camden stepped off the bridge, brushing by Hauk and the two sentries without a word. He stopped directly in front of Tavis.

"What's this about my daughter?" the king demanded. He was even taller than Brianna and could look Tavis more or less directly in the eye. "Where is she?"

Knowing of no easy way to report what had happened. Tavis said simply, "The princess has been taken by ogres."

Camden's face did not darken with anger, or pale with fright, or even go blank with shock. It fell with despair, as though nothing could be done about what the scout had reported.

"Ogres," the king repeated softly.

The reaction puzzled Tavis, for Camden was a bull of a man, given to epic rages and stormy rantings. To see the king take the news as he had was akin to seeing a badger lie down and whimper as the hounds came to tear it apart.

Camden's small entourage arrived. The retinue stopped a respectful distance away, but two men continued forward until they were within a single pace of their monarch. One was Bjordrek, whom Tavis had spoken with on two occasions, but the other the scout had never seen. The fellow was portly and bald, wearing so much gold jewelry that he sparkled like a sun dog in the afternoon light. He carried a silver staff shaped liked a fork of lightning, the symbol of the god Stronmaus.

Camden motioned the bald man toward Morten's floating form. "Simon, see to Morten."

Calling two assistants to help him, Simon slipped past Tavis and took charge of the floating bodyguard. The trio pulled Morten down the road to an area of level ground in front of the watchhouse, then pushed him to the ground.

As the cleric rubbed the rune off Morten's chest, Tavis turned his attention back to Camden. "Your Majesty, have you received other reports of ogres?"

"Of course not!" the king snapped, his eyes narrowing. "Why ask such a thing?"

"Because it didn't surprise you to hear there were ogres in the kingdom."

Camden's face reddened, and he clenched his fists. "What are you saying?" the king yelled. "That I allowed my daughter to fail into ogre hands?"

The scout quickly shook his head. "Not at all," he said. "But I thought that might explain why Runolf-"

"Runolf was here?"

"He stayed the night at my inn," Tavis replied, frowning Runolf was a good soldier, and it wasn't like him to neglect reporting his arrival to the king. "Weren't you expecting him?"

"Not… yet." The king's voice was weak, his lip trembling. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then focused his gaze on Tavis. "His report wasn't due until summer's end."

Though Tavis felt certain Camden was lying, he knew better than to say so. If the king wished to keep his business with Runolf secret, it was not a scout's place to interfere.

"Your Majesty, perhaps I should finish my report," Tavis suggested. Camden nodded, and the scout continued. "Originally, there were between eighteen and twenty-two ogres, but Morten put up a good fight and now only ten to fifteen remain. Their leader's a shaman- probably a cunning one-and he came specifically to abduct Princess Brianna."

The king raised his brow. "You seem to know quite a lot about these ogres."

"Even ogres leave a trail," Tavis replied. "I should also mention that it appears one of your subjects helped the ogres."

The king's eyes widened. "Do you know who?"

"Not yet," Tavis replied. "But it won't take long to catch them. I've a fair idea where to pick up the trail."

"You?" Camden asked. "You're no longer one of my scouts."

"Under the circumstances-"

The king shook his head. "No. Tend to your other duties," he ordered. "I'm sure that's what Brianna would want."

Hauk stepped to the king's side. "Your Majesty, my duties keep me well informed of people's comings and goings." the sergeant said. "There aren't any other scouts here, at least none of Tavis's experience. He's your best hope."

Camden replied without looking at the sergeant, "It won't delay us to summon another scout," he said. "I'm afraid it will take a few days to organize our pursuit."

"A few days!" Tavis burst out. "By then, the ogres will be deep in the Ice Spires! Give me a company of your guard, and I'll have the princess home by dawn!"

Camden's eyes narrowed. "You forget yourself, Innkeeper," he warned. "I am the king, and you have heard my command."

Behind the king, a distressed murmur rustled through the entourage. One of the earls, a rough-featured man named Wendel, even dared to step forward.

"Forgive me for interrupting, Your Majesty," Wendel said. "But most of us up north arc old enough to remember fighting ogre raiders, back before you bought them off!" He ran a nervous hand over his gray-streaked beard, then continued. "Tavis is right. If we don't go after the ogres now, they'll disappear into the mountains. We'll never see Brianna again."

Wendell's concern sprang from more than fondness for the princess, Tavis knew. Brianna was an only child, and so far Camden had failed to produce an alternate heir to the throne-this despite a series of ever younger and more beautiful queens. Romantically inclined courtiers whispered that the king's failure was caused by grief over his first queen's death. Whether or not that was true, Brianna's disappearance would have grave results for Hartsvale. It seemed every power-hungry earl could boast some tenuous claim to the throne, so the princess's well-being was all that stood between the kingdom and a struggle for succession that would make the War of Harts seem a skirmish.

It was several moments before the king faced the earl. "I appreciate your concern. Karl Wendel, but we have little choice." The gentle words were a surprising contrast to the anger in Camden's eyes. He ran his gaze over the entire group of earls, then continued, "Before anyone goes after these ogres, I'd like to know why they took my daughter. If any of you can answer that question, then we can send our armies after her."

The sour tone in the king's voice made it clear that he had no true wish to hear suggestions, so the earls offered none.

Camden gave them a patronizing smile. "This is the answer that comes to my mind: The ogres want us to give chase, perhaps so a larger group can catch our armies in the open, thus weakening the defenses of Castle Hartwick."

Earl Wendel's cheeks reddened, as did those of several other men old enough to have fought beside the king during the War of Harts. Camden had used his ogre allies to execute a similar ruse against his brother, with the result that Dunstan's castle had been captured and his forces driven from the land.

"But we must do something!" Wendel said. "We can't let them take the princess!"

"Perhaps Morten will know something useful," called Simon.

The priest was kneeling at Morten's side, ready to cast his spells. His assistants had shaved the bodyguard's heavy beard away from the horrible gash on his neck. They had also peeled Brianna's shredded-bark dressing off the firbolg's thigh, revealing the jagged lips of an arrow puncture. The skin surrounding the hole was red and disfigured from the fiery healing magic of the princess's goddess, but the injury looked as though it would trouble Morten for some time to come. Both wounds were surrounded by white foam left over from the cleric's purifying ritual.

Simon laid his silver staff over the hole on Morten's leg, announcing, "He'll be ready to answer questions in a moment."

Tavis received the news with mixed feelings. Certainly, he wanted to hear what Morten could tell them about the ogres-but he was not looking forward to the bodyguard's report about what had happened earlier in the Weary Giant's barn.

Simon uttered a string of mystic syllables, and a blue flash hissed down the length of his forked staff, filling the air with the smell of fresh rain. Crackling bolts of sapphire light danced over Morten's arrow wound. The hole's jagged lips joined together seamlessly, and even the burn caused by Brianna's healing spell vanished. The spell faded, leaving only a faint blue scar in the shape of a lightning bolt to mark the injury.

Several earls voiced their high esteem for Simon's magic, but the high priest paid them no attention. Laying the forked end of his staff over the gash on Morten's neck, he raised a wineskin and began to pour. As the red fluid spilled over the firbolg's throat, he called upon Stronmaus to change the wine to blood so the veins of a brave warrior might run full once more. A dazzling bolt crackled down from the sky and struck the rod. The pommel flared blue for a moment, then the red nectar grew dark and thick as it spilled into the wound.

Morten's breath grew deeper and more steady. His eyes fluttered, then he moaned. He smacked his lips, as though the wine were entering his throat through his mouth instead of a wound. When he tasted nothing, the firbolg's eyes popped open. He twisted his head to the side and squinted up at the high priest.

"Simon?" he gasped. "What are you doing here? Where's Brianna?"

"We're at the Earls Bridge," the cleric explained, his voice soft and patient. Still pouring wine over his staff, he continued, "You suffered a wound-"

"My wounds aren't important!" Morten said. "What of the princess?"

The bodyguard pushed himself into a sitting position, but lacked the strength to stay there and promptly crashed back to the ground. "What of Lady Brianna?" he demanded again.

Camden stepped to the firbolg's side. "We were hoping you could tell us," he said. The king waved his hand at Tavis. Basil, and Avner. "These three found you on Coggin's Rise. My daughter wasn't there."

Morten turned his head to glare at Tavis. The firbolgs eyes were ashamed and angry, as one might expect of a loyal bodyguard who had just learned of his failure, but they also seemed strangely glazed, as though the pain of his injuries had dulled his mind.

"You!" Again Morten tried to rise. "I'll kill you myself!"

Camden gently pushed the firbolg back down. "Why should you want to kill Tavis?"

Morten continued to glare at Tavis. "He betrayed Brianna." the bodyguard declared. "The knave's been using her to protect his den of thieves, and today she learned the truth."

"Tavis?" Camden asked.

Gasps of astonishment and disbelief droned through the king's entourage, with Earl Wendel's voice loudest of all. "Impossible!" he declared. I've known Tavis Burdun for a decade. He'd never do something like that."

As the earl was speaking in his defense. Tavis heard Basil and Avner whispering to each other behind him, obviously concerned by the turn the conversation had taken.

"Stay where you are, scofflaws!" Tavis hissed, speaking over his shoulder. "Running will do no good now."

After allowing the drone to continue for a moment, the king raised his hands for silence. Looking to Tavis, he demanded, "What of Morten's charge?" Then, almost as an afterthought, he also asked, "How does it concern my daughter's disappearance?"

"Some books were taken from Earl Dobbin, and the thief sought refuge in my inn," Tavis admitted. "But I knew nothing about it until afterward, and I speak honestly when I say the incident has nothing to do with Brianna's disappearance."

"You can't believe him," Morten scoffed.

"Why not?" demanded Wendel. "Firbolgs can't lie."

"That runt's no firbolg!" Morten bellowed. He managed to push himself into a seated position and stay mere. "Just look at how small and skinny he is. You can tell he was raised on human food, and on human lies!"

Camden frowned thoughtfully. "Morten might have a point there," he allowed. "But I don't see how it concerns Brianna. Even if he wanted to silence her, he hardly had the time to call a pack of ogres."

Bjordrek stepped to the king's side. "True, sire. But who else could treat with ogres?" He spoke quietly, his gray eyes fixed on the scout. "Only Tavis has the skill to find their home and survive long enough to strike an agreement."

"That's ridiculous!" objected Wendel. "Tavis is no thief, or be wouldn't have brought Morten here. It would've been simpler to leave the oaf for dead."

Morten scowled at this. "Tavis Burdun was hiding Earl Dobbin's stolen books. If that doesn't make him a thief, nothing does," the bodyguard declared. "Why he saved me, I don't know."

"It appears there are a great many things we don't know, and it may take some time to sort them out," the king said. "Until we do, Tavis and his friends shall remain at Castle Hartwick."

A knot formed in Tavis's stomach. "What of Princess Brianna?" he demanded.

"She is not your concern. Now do as I command." Camden's eyes grew hard, and for the first time he glanced at the scout's famous bow. "Or will you take arms against your lawful liege?"

Suddenly, Bear Driller felt heavier than anything Tavis had ever held in his hands. The scout had no idea whether he could loose an arrow at his own king, but he knew that obeying Camden's order would mean Brianna's loss-and he could not allow that, any more than he could lie. "I won't abandon Brianna," he said.

"Then you are an outlaw." Camden stepped back behind Hauk's sentries, pointing a finger at the scout. "Seize him."

Bjordrek's eyes grew round. "But Your Majesty, if he-"

"No firbolg would fire on his liege." The king motioned Hauk forward. "Even a firbolg thief."

As the sergeant and his men moved to obey, Tavis nocked his arrow and in one swift motion raised Bear Driller into firing position. Basil gasped. Avner cheered, and Hauk's sentries stopped in their tracks. Several earls pulled small dress swords from their belts, and Morten managed to drag himself to his feet.

"Go on." the bodyguard said. "He can only kill one of you."

Tavis loosed Bear Driller's bowstring. The arrow hissed past Camden's head, passing so close the fletching brushed the royal ear, then shot out over the Clearwhirl's chasm. Before the color could drain from the cheeks of the astonished king, the scout was pulling another shaft from his quiver. Behind him, he heard Basil's flat feet running up the road. Avner seemed to be staying close at hand.

"I'm no thief." Tavis said, nocking his arrow. "But I'll do what I must to save Brianna-even it means defying my king."

"Traitor!" Morten shouted. "This will cost you your head!"

"Perhaps, but only after the princess is safe," the scout replied. Then, without shifting his gaze from Camden's disbelieving eyes, he began to back slowly up the trail. "Mount up. Avner. It's time to go."

No one moved to stop them.

Save for the cold breeze pouring down its steep channel, the ravine seemed an ideal place for Brianna's ambush. The jagged boulders along the rims would serve as excellent hiding places, and, after her allies pounced, the deep shadows of the rocky bed would make it difficult for her captors to keep track of the evasive beasts. Only the wind, blowing downhill instead of up, was wrong. If the ogres had sharp noses, they would notice the smell of mountain lion as the princess's swift friends slipped into position. But with the way the brutes stank, how could they have a decent sense of smell?

Brianna was at the mouth of the ravine, suspended from an ogre's bony shoulder by the same greasy rope that bound her hands and feet. A filthy rag had been stuffed into her mouth and secured in place with a strip of equally filthy cloth, and every time she inhaled she almost retched on the rancid odor that hovered about her captors like a fly swarm. Her flesh had grown numb from the stinging mountain cold, and the princess did hot know how much longer she could endure.

There were two ogres behind the one carrying Brianna and ten ahead, many of those bearing the warriors who had died on Coggin's Rise. Several of the corpse-bearers had already entered the ravine, and the extra weight of their burdens was causing them to slip and stumble as they climbed. Regardless of the wind's direction, the princess did not think she would ever have a better chance to surprise her captors.

Brianna closed her eyes and pictured Hiatea's flaming spear in her mind. The talisman on her necklace grew warm, and she thought, Yes, my sisters and brothers, now we hunt.

The unvoiced call of nine vicious spirits answered Brianna's summons, pouring from the goddess's talisman into her breast. The princess suddenly felt hungry and vexed, filled with a fiery rancor that made her ache to rake open bowels and bite necks apart. She opened her eyes and ran her gaze over the dark mountainside. Somewhere up there, nine of Hiatea's most, ruthless hunters were slinking toward the gorge, as quiet as shadows and as hard to see as the wind.

The ogres continued to climb, oblivious to the death waiting above. For no good reason, Brianna found herself holding her breath as she watched. Every so often, a warrior would pause to rest or catch his balance. The princess's heart would leap into her throat and pound like a drum until the brute resumed his ascent, usually after a sharp grunt from the climber behind him, but there was no sign that the warriors had caught the scent of her allies. Finally, the ogre in front of Brianna's stepped into the ravine mouth and reached up to grab a handhold.

That was when the whole line came to a halt. The princess craned her neck to see the cause of the delay. She found only the hunched backs of several ogres, spread along the shadowy ravine like so many boulders.

The ogre shaman's voice rolled down the ravine. "What wrong, spy?" he demanded. "Why stop?"

When the spy did not answer immediately, Brianna felt cold fingers of despair slipping around her heart. It would do her no good to attack until all the ogres were in the ravine, so the warriors close to her would be too busy fighting to worry about their prisoner. The princess could not spring her trap before then, or the brutes would organize a defense and prevent her from escaping. Unfortunately, the traitor Runolf- Brianna thought of the man that way to keep her hatred of him from tempering-was about to force her hand.

Runolf had joined the ogres at dusk, as the brutes, ended a chilling two-hour wade down the Clearwhirl. After receiving a gruff greeting from the shaman, the traitor had led the group through a dark spruce forest and into the icy hinterlands of the north valley, guiding them without incident to this ravine at the edge of the Ice Spires' forbidding wilderness.

And now it appeared that in addition to leading her kidnappers to safety, Runolf would ruin Brianna's only hope of escape. He was clearly a good enough scout to know mountain lions never hunted in packs. They were stealthy creatures as solitary as they were vicious, often lighting to the death even when male and female came together during mating season. Assuming the traitor realised that more than one beast lurked above his head, he would also know someone had used magic to summon the pack.

The ogre shaman finally grew tired of waiting for Runolf's answer. "Climb, spy," said his muted voice. "Take us Needle Peak."

"This is as far as I go, Goboka," came Runolf's answer. "You know the rest of the way-probably better than I."

Goboka, the shaman, was silent for several moments, then his voice asked, "Why afraid? What danger ahead?"

Brianna resisted the urge to call her attack. If the ambush was foiled, she would lose nothing by waiting until Runolf actually told the shaman about the mountain lions. On the other hand, if the traitor had merely decided to turn back, her plan still had a good chance of working.

"The danger ahead is minor." said Runolf. "But I've risked enough on your behalf. You can face it alone."

Brianna heard Runolf's boots scraping on the rocks as he started down the ravine. She thought Goboka would kill him on the spot, but soon saw the shaman's warriors pressing themselves against the craggy wall to let their departing guide pass.

The princess did not know quite what to make of the sudden desertion. It seemed likely that the traitor knew about her ambush, but for some reason of his own had decided to keep the secret. As for Goboka, Brianna felt certain the shaman was merely biding his time until Runolf left the crowded confines of the ravine, where his smaller size would prove a valuable advantage against the looming ogres.

As Runolf came near, he gazed into Brianna's eyes and gave her a brief nod. The princess noted no suggestion of apology or shame in his expression, only a tight-clenched jaw like she had once seen on Morten's face as he went off to execute a treasonous earl. Brianna tried to curse him. She managed no more than a garbled rasp around her gag, but the meaning was plain enough. The traitor looked away and stepped past.

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.