Douglas Niles - Winterheim

Suddenly that nightmare possibility, the notion he had discussed as a hypothetical with Captain Verra just a few days before, seemed a real danger. Had the slaves of Winterheim, the humans who outnumbered their ogre masters by two or three to one, somehow organized a revolt?

“Aye, Sire! It shall be as you command!” declared the noble ogre.

“What about the higher levels of the city?” asked the queen, her eyes wide.

“I myself will take command up here,” said Grimwar Bane. “I will send the entire palace garrison to guard the ramps, to make sure there is no chance for intruders-be they Arktos or Highlanders … or rebellious slaves! — to work any mischief in the upper reaches of Winterheim!”

“Make haste! Make haste!” barked the queen. “Find the Axe of Gonnas and bring it here to me at once!”

The lord looked at the king for confirmation. Grimwar grimaced but then nodded.

“Yes!” he ordered. “Do as she says!”

“Mouse, there’s something bad going on out there!”

The Arktos warrior sat up groggily, shaking the sleep from his mind. It was Feathertail, he saw, and she was speaking quietly but with undeniable urgency. He remembered she was one of the warriors who had stayed on guard duty while he settled down to get some much-needed rest.

Without a word, he followed her to the lip of the grotto where the human warriors had concealed themselves. They both crawled forward, peering between a pair of massive fungi stalks, to peer into the great breadth of the Moongarden. They had seen a huge ogre go through a few hours before, coming from the same direction the war party had taken, and Mouse had even speculated on the resemblance between that gigantic creature and the monstrous guardian at the Icewall Gate, the brute who had vanished into the crevasse. There had been no unusual activity since then, until the braying of the horns that had coincided with Mouse awakening.

Now Mouse immediately saw a group of ogres, a dozen or more of them, moving across an open field at a jog. The brutes wore cloaks of red and carried spears in both hands, the weapons’ gleaming tips angled before them aggressively. One, apparently a captain, shouting and gestured, and several of the ogres broke away from the main group to charge into a narrow, shaded trail between the groves of giant mushrooms.

“They’re looking for us, I think,” Feathertail whispered. “There are three or four groups of them running around like that.”

Mouse felt a stab of fear. “Some kind of alarm has gone out.” He thought of Moreen and her companions and sent a silent prayer to Chislev Wilder pleading for their safety. What should he do now?

Thane Larsgall came rushing up to them, sliding to his own perch on the lip of the drop off. The waterfall plunged nearby, noisy enough that it would cover any slight sounds they made.

“Sooner or later they’ll make their way up here,” the Highlander noted.

Mouse nodded. “I guess we’d better keep our weapons handy and get ready. At least they won’t take us by surprise!”

Stariz watched her husband through narrowed eyes. The king had momentarily forgotten all about Thraid’s murder-a good thing too, since it was proving hard to convince him that the slave king was the culprit. Thus, the distraction of the human intruders could not have come at a better time, for Stariz had almost begun to fear for her life. Now that the king was involved in this new crisis, she could set aside the problem of the dead mistress and later find other ways to win him over. In fact, she could use clerical magic to fog his mind if it became necessary.

Hmmm, that was a good idea.

Right now there was one thing more important than all else, only one truth that dominated her thoughts and infused her with hope and passion.

The Axe of Gonnas! These intruders had it with them. It was only a matter of time until it was returned to her!

The huge ogre had honed in on Bruni and Barq, barking and jabbering as he pressed them against the wall of the corridor. They shielded the basket containing the golden axe, which momentarily stayed his attack. Kerrick, Moreen, and the slave girl edged outside the ring of other ogre guards and for the moment were ignored in the confusion.

The elf saw Moreen’s hand slip under her robe and knew she was making a move for the sword she wore concealed there. He stepped into her roughly, taking her elbow in a firm grip, pushing her away from the throng of ogres converging around Bruni and Barq. From the corner of his eye, the elf saw Tookie also scamper away, avoiding the melee.

“Let me go!” demanded the chiefwoman, her voice a hiss of fury.

“No,” he replied, levelly.

Forcefully he pulled her to the side, where many other slaves were gathering to watch the unfolding events. He turned them around so they too could watch Bruni and Barq but kept his hand firmly on her arm. This time she didn’t try to break away from him.

“They’re caught,” he whispered. “We can’t do anything against twenty ogres! The worst thing we can do is to get taken with them-then all our hope is gone!”

More guards converged from before them, and the two big humans were flattened against the wall of the corridor with nowhere to go. Barq and Bruni stood back to back now, the basket containing the axe on the ground behind their legs. They had the good sense not to flourish their weapons against the score or more of ogres who had them trapped.

The biggest ogre, Kerrick realized with astonishment, was the very monster they had battled in the gateway, the giant who had tumbled into the crevasse, where they had assumed, mistakenly, he had perished. His face was scratched and bloody, and streaks of mud marred his cloak and tunic, but his voice was as strong as ever as he shouted, “They bear the golden axe, and they fought through my gate. They are intruders into Winterheim and must be brought before the king for judgment.”

He shoved them aside and knelt to grab the Axe of Gonnas, from the floor. His eyes were wide with wonder as he lifted the blade of solid gold, and for several long heartbeats it seemed as though he had forgotten everything else-the prisoners, the mob of ogre guards who seemed to be waiting for some kind of command, the throng of slaves who cowered nearby.

Kerrick noticed Tookie coming back, wiggling through the crowd until she came to a stop beside Moreen. She took the chiefwoman’s hand.

“We have to help!” Moreen insisted, but the slave girl shook her head. The chiefwoman looked to Kerrick for support, but he nodded in agreement with Tookie.

“Tookie’s right. The best thing we can do for our companions now is to try and keep from getting captured.”

Angrily she pulled her elbow from his grasp, rubbing the skin where, no doubt, he had clutched her hard enough to leave a deep bruise. She stayed rooted to her spot, watching in anguish.

“Take these prisoners to the royal dungeon,” cried the huge ogre, at last tearing his eyes free from the entrancing axe. Abruptly, he spun about, his big face contorting in concentration as he started to look over the throng of slaves that included Kerrick, Moreen, and Tookie.

“There were more humans, lots, with them,” grunted the ogre. His big hand came up, a finger as large as a sausage extending in the general direction of Moreen.

“You there!” he barked, suddenly. “Take off your hood.”

In that instant Kerrick he knew that he had to act. He gave the woman a shove, relieved as Moreen and Tookie joined the rest of the slaves in sprinting away, racing up the corridor toward Winterheim. Instead the elf lunged forward, drawing his own sword, slashing the weapon as he rushed at the hulking ogre warrior.

Another one of the brutes stepped into his path, raising a spear to block the lethal blade, but Kerrick was too quick, lancing under the parry to stab his long sword right into the ogre’s guts. With a howl the creature fell backward, tumbling into his oversized comrade, knocking several other ogres off balance.