Richard Knaak - The Black Talon

“All praise the grand khan of all ogres!” Khleeg shouted over and over at the top of his voice. As the rest assembled joined his effort, their thunderous chant flowed out over the rest of Garantha and became truth throughout the ogre realms.

It was not the extravagant traditional ceremony Golgren had intended, but in the end, it served him as well … at least for the time being. For he was the grand khan of all. When there came an accounting for all the tragedy, he knew there would be controversies and questions focused on his leadership.

There would be many repercussions from the disaster. News of the ruination would reach the Uruv Suurt, whose emperor would smile at the thought of so many dead ogres and who might think to add to their numbers. It would also reach the Solamnics, who, with the knight Sir Stefan Rennert lost-the dream of an alliance lost-might also cause future problems for the ogres.

And there were others whose fate was in question.

Golgren did not glance at her, but he felt Idaria’s gaze strong upon him. The elves beyond the realms, who sought to free their kind from slavery, might take the opportunity to create trouble. There were older enemies yet in Neraka and among his own kind. Not for a moment did the new grand khan believe he had won any clear victory. Not for a moment did he think that he would not soon face opposition from other ambitious ogre warriors. Even if seen as a victory, the day had drained the numbers of his supporters and loyalists.

There was also the mysterious force watching him-trying to manipulate him-through the eyes of gargoyles. Golgren had not rejected the notion that Tyranos guided the gargoyles. Tyranos no doubt had survived. But it was more likely that someone else steered the foul creatures, someone even more insidious.

Yet of all threats, of all his enemies, there existed only one that he considered of immediate danger. They might be leaderless and in disarray-for surely Dauroth was no more-but the Titans were in a power struggle to the death with him. The reins would be taken up, and they would seek Golgren’s blood anew.

He grinned wider and while the throngs assumed the grin was meant for them and his own pleasure, the half-breed ogre leader smiled in anticipation of the great fight ahead of him. In his life, Golgren had endured ridicule, beatings, enslavement, and sufferings that made the loss of his hand a minor inconvenience. He had endured those tribulations and grown the stronger. They had molded his ambition, his ruthlessness.

Guided by Khleeg and his other supporters, the ogres continued to cheer and shout his name. Golgren turned in every direction, waving and acknowledging the crowd. He knew he stood straight and tall and looked powerful, despite his slighter stature.

Yes, the Titans were welcome to betray him again.

The Uruv Suurt, the dark knights-all his adversaries-were welcome to try their best too. Golgren laughed, and his subjects, thinking he was savoring his triumph, laughed with him.

No, he was savoring his future triumphs. He was surrounded by enemies who wanted to unseat or kill him. That was why Golgren laughed. No sane person would wish to be surrounded by enemies … no one.

“Come to me,” Golgren murmured to those distant foes. “Come to me … and I will teach you fear.”

And as if hearing his taunt, something fluttered away from a building in the distance, something the new grand khan realized had to have been there all that time, watching.

Barely had he focused on the ugly thing than a second one rose from the west, joining the first in flight. A third was added to their ranks from the northern section of the capital. The three hovered in the sky, hovered just long enough for Golgren to understand they wanted him to see them; then, with a sudden, intense flapping of wings, the three gargoyles rose high into the yet overcast heavens … and vanished.