The Ogre's Pact зк-1 Page 6

  The scout leaped over the toppled aspen and helped Basil roll Morten's huge body onto its back. The bodyguard head and chest were covered with blood, the beard thickly matted with the sticky stuff. His flesh was as pate as aspen bark, and a terrific hunk of flesh had been bitten from his throat. Still, there could be little doubt that he was alive. A cold sweat covered his face, and his breath came in shallow gasps so faint his ribs barely moved. Someone had even cut an arrow from his thigh and dressed the wound with shredded bark.

  Tavis pulled a corner of the bandage away and saw that the wound had been scorched by the fire of Hiatea's magic. There could be no doubt that Brianna had cast the spell that nullified the ogres' poison. He put the bandage back in place and cursed.

  Basil raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?" he asked. "It's no difference to me, but I thought you'd want Morten alive."

  "I do." Tavis replied. "But this was no chance meeting. The ogres were after Brianna all along."

  "How can you know that?" asked Basil.

  "The poison on ogre arrows is fast." Tavis explained. Once it's in your blood, you collapse in about three seconds. It won't kill you, but you'll be too weak to defend yourself."

  "So?"

  "Morten killed at least seven ogres, but they didn't kill him, even after he was wounded and helpless." Tavis ripped a long strip of cloth from Morten's undertunic and used it to bandage the wound on the bodyguard's throat. "They let him live so Brianna would come to his aid. Then, while she was occupied with his wounds, they captured her."

  "You can read all that from his wounds?" Basil asked.

  The scout could not tell whether the verbeeg's tone was one of disbelief or awe. "Yes, and from other signs."

  Tavis gestured at the hilltop, which was not, so thickly wooded that visibility was a problem. "If there had been any ogres in the open when Brianna arrived, she would have seen them. But she didn't. She came directly to Morten's aid and bandaged his arrow wound." The scout pointed at two sets of nearby ogre tracks. "Nevertheless, two ogres surprised her here, which means they were well hidden when she arrived."

  "And hiding well takes time, even for ogres," Basil said, nodding. "So they couldn't have done it on the spur of the moment. They were hoping Brianna would come to help Morten."

  "Right, but I'd go even further," Tavis replied. "I'd say their shaman used his magic to lure her into the trap."

  Basil raised his brow. "And how do you know they had a shaman?" This time, his voice was not doubtful, only curious.

  Tavis pointed at the bandage he had placed on the fallen bodyguard's neck. "The bite," he said. "It's a serious one. If it had been there when Brianna healed the wound in Morten's thigh, she would have dressed it as well. Since she didn't we can only assume it was made later."

  "I see that," Basil allowed. "But I still don't know why you think it was a shaman."

  "If an enemy has proven himself strong or cunning, an ogre shaman eats the corpse to enslave the enemy's spirit." Tavis explained. "Morten was too big to take with them, so the shaman started to eat him here."

  "Then why didn't he finish?" Basil asked. "I've never met an ogre shaman, but I know enough about magic to tell you it doesn't work unless you perform the ritual completely and correctly."

  "My guess is he didn't have time," Tavis explained. "Someone's working with them, and that person wouldn't have wanted to wait around for the shaman to eat an entire firbolg. So they left Morten for dead and went on their way."

  Basil considered this for a time, then nodded. "Of course, they must have a spy," the verbeeg said. "If the ogres came after Brianna specifically, then someone told them she'd be riding back from your inn today."

  "And that person also warned them about Morten."

  "It sounds to me as though we're talking about anyone who lives between Stagwick and Castle Hartwick," Basil said, "Let's concentrate on motives. Why do the ogres want Brianna? Ransom?"

  Tavis shook his head, "They're more direct. If they wanted treasure, they'd just steal it," he said. "And the only use they have for humans is as meals or slaves- but I can't imagine why they'd single out Brianna for that. There are plenty of easier targets near the border lands."

  "Then perhaps it's the spy who wants her," Basil replied. "Is there anyone who'd profit if she disappeared, or who could use her as hostage?"

  "Any number of earls, I suppose," Tavis replied. "They're always trying to grab more power, but it's a rare earl who knows the mountains well enough to find an ogre camp-much less keep himself from being eaten and strike a bargain with the shaman."

  "Then I fear we won't know why Brianna was taken until we learn who's behind it," the verbeeg said. He fell into a thoughtful silence, then let out a heavy sigh. "That leaves you with only one unpleasant option: Chase the ogres down yourself."

  "There's nothing I'd like more," Tavis replied. Though he realized Basil was trying to exclude himself from such a dangerous prospect, at the moment the scout saw no purpose in commenting on the verbeeg's cowardice. "But we won't save Brianna by getting ourselves killed. The ogres outnumber us by five to one, and even I'm not that good."

  Basil raised an eyebrow. "I take it you counted tracks?"

  Tavis shook his head. "No, the battlefield's too trampled for that," he said. "But our foes are at least ten: one to bear each of their dead or wounded fellows, one to carry Brianna, and the shaman-who would consider himself above carrying anything. On the other hand, we can assume there are no more than fourteen in the party, or they would have taken Morten to eat later."

  "A pleasant thought, that," Basil said. "So what do we do?"

  "Go to the castle and report what we've learned," Tavis replied. He stepped over to a sapling. "But first we'll have to prepare a litter for Morten."

  "Don't bother," said Basil. "We've no need of a litter."

  The runecaster removed Morten's leather breastplate and tore open the sweat-stained tunic beneath. After pulling Morten's dagger from its sheath, he shaved the hair off the bodyguard's furry chest, then he dipped his finger in the fresh blood oozing from beneath the bodyguard's neck bandage and touched the red-stained digit to the firbolg's chest.

  "What will your magic do?" Tavis asked.

  If Basil heard the question, he showed no sign. He lowered his bulging eyes to Morten's chest and began to draw. The process took longer than Tavis had imagined it would. The verbeeg traced his rune slowly and deliberately, taking great care to make certain each line rap absolutely true, with clean, straight edges. Whenever his gruesome ink began to run dry, he dipped his finger in Morten's blood again, and if any part of the stroke looked thinner or lighter than the rest, applied it again.

  Deciding there was no use in standing around idly. Tavis returned to the place where Brianna had been captured. It took only a few moments to make sense of the jumble of ogre tracks and find a trail leading southeast. At first, this puzzled him, since the ogres' home lands lay more to the northeast. Then he realized that his quarry was hoping to throw off pursuit by circling around Castle Hartwick in an unexpected direction. The scout smiled to himself, for, with a little luck, he could cut them off-with a company of the king's men at his back.

  As Tavis formulated his plan, a curious tension seemed to fall over the forest. Blizzard wandered onto the hilltop, nickering softly. Tavis looked back toward the trail and soon realized that the distant voices of the siskins bad changed to a chorus of harsh shick-shicks. "Someone was passing beneath their roosts, and from the angry sound of their calls, he was trying to be sneaky about it. The scout listened for the sounds of a man's passage. Me heard nothing, not even the rustle of leaves or the snap of a breaking twig. The person stalking toward them moved with stealth enough, but he lacked any skill at keeping the forest animals from betraying his presence.

  "Avner, come here!" the scout called.

  "How do you know it's me?" cried the astonished youth.

  "The birds complained," Tavis answered. "Now do as you're told. You've upset them enoug
h."

  "I'll be right there," Avner replied. "Just let me get something I left back at the road."

  After a short silence, the scout heard leaves rustling and branches snapping as a horse trotted through the wood. The beast crested the hill a moment later, Avner's proud figure seated upon its back. As the youth came nearer, Tavis saw a hawk's-head crest embossed on the skirt of the gelding's fine leather saddle.

  "Where'd you come by that horse?" he demanded.

  "I found it," Avner answered.

  "In Earl Dobbin's stable, no doubt," chuckled Basil, "Well done, boy."

  "Don't encourage his dishonest ways!" Tavis turned toward Basil and saw that the runecaster had finished his symbol. The verbeeg was walking toward there, pulling Morten's unconscious form along at his side. The bodyguard was lying flat on his back four feet on the ground, with a red, multifarious rune shimmering upon his massive chest.

  Tavis shifted his glare to Avner. "The lord mayor can have you drawn and quartered for taking one of his horses," he said. "And I'd be breaking the law if I tried to stop him."

  The color drained from Avner's face, but he met Tavis's gaze evenly. "Don't worry. I wouldn't expect your to break the law." There was a bitter edge to his voice.

  "You're being too hard on the boy," Basil said, joining Tavis. "He was just being resourceful. How else was he supposed to catch us?"

  "He wasn't," Tavis snapped, still scowling at Avner, "He was supposed to stay behind and look after the children."

  "Livia said she'd watch them," Avner replied, "I wanted to be here in case you needed me."

  "What do you think I could possibly need-"

  Basil's free hand clamped down on the scout's arm, to cutting him off. "Don't say something you'll regret," he warned. "Besides, shouldn't we hurry to Castle Hartwick? When we report Brianna's abduction, a stolen horse will seem no big thing." * 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 circl
et 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?"