Richard Knaak: The Black Talon

The meredrake repeated its tail-sweeping motion with a more hesitant hissing. Still, it did not move toward the ogre. The reptilian eyes stared, its thick tongue darting out.

Golgren continued to hiss challengingly. He took another step forward, repeating his previous weaving pattern.

With a raspy call, the meredrake suddenly turned about, heading back to the easier fare offered by the horse.

The grand lord knew how to out-bluff those deadly lizards. But on foot, he was at a distinct disadvantage with so many on the field of battle bigger than he. Still, knowledge of that disadvantage had forced him, throughout his life, to excel at quick, clever warfare. Thus it was that the next warrior to come at him perished without much bother, his crude swordsmanship no match for the honed skills of the smaller ogre. The grand lord moved on even before the body finished tumbling.

An ear-splitting bellow presaged a giant shadow sweeping over not only Golgren but also several warriors from both sides. More nimble than his hulking brethren, the grand lord slipped between combatants just as two mastarks, their tusks tangled together, stumbled among the grappling ogres on both sides. Personal battles were forgotten as the smaller figures desperately sought escape. Many did not get away, the crushing of their bones drowned out by the mastarks’ continued roars.

As he eluded the beasts, Golgren felt a fierce wind spring up. He nodded grimly, having already wondered when they would finally get around to that spell. They were tardy.

The wind grew to staggering proportions, but oddly, it seemed most focused on the grand lord’s enemies. A dust storm quickly arose that threatened to blind those in the motley horde.

Alerted prior to the battle that such a thing would happen, the armored ogres kept their gazes fixed directly ahead of them. Their desperate adversaries swung wildly. Golgren’s minions calmly picked their targets out and marked them for death. The battle grew more brutal, the outcome more and more apparent.

But that did not yet satisfy Golgren, who searched the collapsing horde for one particular individual … until he finally found him.

Slashing through the stomach of another opponent, the grand lord fought his way toward a gargantuan figure, who was busy chopping down one of the armored ogres under Golgren’s command. Blood caked the giant’s torso, and despite the fact his horde was in danger of being routed, his expression was one of murderous glee.

The gargantuan ogre wore a battered helm with a much-abused crest signifying that it had once belonged to an officer of the minotaur legions. Jagged scars covered his face, some of them aligned so perfectly they could only be ritually self-carved.

Golgren knew him as the most important, the most powerful of the three chieftains.

“Jari i oGolgreni, iTrangi!” the grand lord shouted to get the gargantuan chieftain’s attention. “Come to me, Trang!” Golgren repeated in Common for his own amusement. No other ogre could speak Common so well, and the grand lord loved to flaunt his superiority even in the midst of such a pitched struggle.

The other ogre paused in the midst of throttling another victim. Like Golgren, he was on foot, but standing erect, his broad shoulders rose well above his rival’s head.

Trang grinned like a hungry meredrake. He indifferently tossed aside his unfortunate foe and turned toward Golgren. “if’hani… ” the vicious chieftain rumbled. “if’hani iGolgreni.”

Trang barreled through two other fighters, knocking them aside. Golgren waited calmly, assessing each twist and turn of the other’s charge. Trang had a reputation among all ogres; he had been, in fact, the one who had instigated the uprising, the battle, the insult against Golgren’s primacy among the race.

Trang’s dripping axe came down on the smaller warrior. The grand lord parried the attack with his sword. Their weapons clanged together, Golgren’s entire body vibrating from the collision. Trang’s incredible strength was no mere legend.

With a barking laugh, the giant brought up his axe for another powerful strike. Golgren immediately lunged in under his guard with his right. He intended to rip out the chieftain’s throat with his metal claws, but Trang was more agile than most ogres and twisted away. Instead of the throat, Golgren’s talons drew several crimson lines across the left shoulder.

The wounds were shallow, however, and did not elicit more than a grunt of annoyance from Golgren’s adversary. The chieftain continued his assault, battering away with his huge axe. It was all Golgren could do to keep from being forced to his knees, so heavy and relentless was the rain of blows.

Trang’s grin widened in anticipation of his enemy’s demise. However, that grin and the smugness it represented were what the smaller ogre had been waiting for. Suddenly, Golgren dodged to the side of Trang’s axe. He came up on the chieftain from the right, slashing quickly under the other’s upraised arm.

That time, his blade sank deep.

Still, instead of slowing Trang, the wound seemed only to outrage the massive chieftain. He countered with a swift sweep downward of his axe, shattering Golgren’s blade. The grand lord raised his talons to deflect the axe from his chest, but the blade’s momentum-coupled with Trang’s strength-enabled the weapon to rip off his well-secured false hand.

Golgren let out a cry as the tight straps and fastenings tore free from his maimed limb. He stumbled back just in time to avoid another swing. Trang chuckled darkly, his eyes red with bloodlust.

But his target still proved to be nimble. Three times Trang’s axe shot toward the grand lord, and three times it found only empty air. Golgren fared no better; he had only a dagger, not yet drawn, available to him, so he was forced to duck and weave.

Around them, the rest of the combatants unconsciously gave space. No one sought to stumble into the path of two warriors of such reputation.

There was still only so much area in which to maneuver, and Trang was seeing to it that Golgren had less and less.

Yet again Trang brought his axe down hard, barely missing severing his smaller opponent in half. Frustrated at his near miss, the chieftain started to pull his weapon back up … when, with his lone hand, Golgren snagged Trang’s wrist. Startled, the chieftain did not immediately react.

The grand lord swung himself up and over. Trang made a grab for him, but it was too late.

Golgren’s legs had wrapped around the chieftain’s thick neck. Despite the fact that he was bigger and heavier, Trang could not keep his balance and teetered backward.

The chieftain fell with a loud thud, but Golgren found one of his legs caught underneath his foe and his good arm slammed against the hard ground. Both ogres momentarily lay there, stunned.

It was Trang who stirred first. Growling, he pushed himself up on his elbows, and instantly Golgren slipped his leg out, struggling to find his footing. Fumbling with his hand, the grand lord drew his dagger.

Trang already had his axe gripped tight. Still rising, he spun around. His axe was aimed directly for Golgren’s midsection.

The chieftain’s target flattened himself on the ground. The axe swooped past just inches above his torso.

Golgren half crawled, half lunged.

His dagger lodged deep in the base of Trang’s throat. Trang coughed and let out a long, choking sound. Despite his terrible wound, the chieftain tried to stand and renew his attack.

But his axe rose, then tumbled out of his shaking hand. Golgren shoved the dagger in deeper. Trang clutched madly at him, heavy paws groping for the grand lord’s throat.

Fighting for breath, Golgren forced the dagger sideways, tearing open a huge hole in the throat.