Alex Lee Martinez - In the Company of Ogres

Frank shifted his weight and yanked her off the beast. Her mount roared and charged. Its jaws weren’t quite large enough to swallow Frank in one bite, but it was willing to give it a try. Frank smashed it across the face with his club. The monster staggered. He struck again. Blood and slime spewed through the air. Frank wrapped his arms around the stunned beast’s neck. He called on every ounce of his ogre muscle, and the monster’s spine cracked loudly. It collapsed, wheezing, still alive, but limp and broken.

The demoness drew an ax and rushed at Regina. Regina sidestepped a swing meant to split her in half, and struck with her spear. The demoness made no attempt to evade, having absolute faith in her dark armor. But there was a small hole just below her armpit that none had ever noticed before, much less been skilled enough to strike. But Regina’s spear found it. The demoness howled as blood gushed from the fatal wound. She turned and took three defiant steps before falling to the ground dead beside her beast.

The citadel was deathly quiet once more.

“That wasn’t so hard,” said Frank.

“Two down.” Regina took in the hundreds of unholy eyes perched on the walls. “How’s your arm?”

The wounds pierced deep into the muscle, and even a thick-skinned ogre had to feel that pain. “It’s nothing.”

“Just be careful, Frank.”

He smiled down at her. “I was wondering, Archmajor. I don’t know if you’d be interested or not, but do you want to maybe get a drink after all this is over?”

The charge of the swarm drowned out her reply. In one instant the air was thick with demons, an unholy fog of screams and claws and blades. The horde came in many forms. Small imps more annoying than dangerous. Great warriors astride monstrous mounts. Some were armed with swords or whips or spears. Others were armed only with their gnashing teeth and slashing talons. But every demon, in all their infinite variety, shared one thing in common with Ogre Company.

They were spoiling for this fight.

Frank and Regina fought side by side. The ogre swung his club in wide, sweeping arcs that swatted demons from the air. Regina’s spear slashed with brutal efficiency, slicing down scores of opponents. Within moments, the formidable pair stood on a small hill of dead demons. A fat underworld warrior jumped on Frank’s shoulder and bit into his flesh. The jagged fangs drew blood, and Frank couldn’t reach up to dislodge the beast. Regina speared it. The demon fell away, taking her spear with it.

It was far too loud to hear anything except the roar of battle. Frank nodded appreciatively to Regina. She drew her sword, nodded back. And before turning to face a new wave of attackers, she did something he’d never seen her do: she smiled.

He’d seen her smile before. But not like that. Not at him. Like maybe it meant something.

Regina neatly beheaded three demons with one stroke. She continued the motion effortlessly to stab a fourth stealing up behind her. Screaming, she hurled herself fearlessly into another cluster. They could’ve torn her to bits, except it was the last thing they were expecting. Before they could gather their wits, she’d already killed them. The blood of demons, a vibrant paint of deep reds, thick yellows, chunky greens, and shiny purples, stained her beautiful armor and even more beautiful face.

It was then that Frank knew he loved her.

A pair of demons, foolishly thinking the smitten ogre had dropped his guard, found themselves crushed beneath his club. A winged enemy swooped in to strike Regina from behind. Frank seized its wings, plucked it from the air, and squeezed its skull until three of its four eyes burst. Regina nodded to him. And it was his turn to smile.

A giant beast, like an ape made of equal parts mud and discarded fish guts, lumbered forward as its rider prodded it with a trident. Regina and Frank raised their weapons and, screaming as one, charged.

The skirmish raged throughout Copper Citadel. Elmer battled with suicidal abandon against a gang of flaming gremlins. He would’ve been scorched to ash save for Ulga’s quick thinking. She conjured a personal stormcloud over his head. It poured torrential rains, but even a wet treefolk wasn’t completely fireproof. Most of his leaves smoldered, and bits of him smoked.

Ulga threw bolt after bolt of conjured lightning, blasting demons into blackened corpses. One or two bolts went astray and killed a few of her fellows. But friendly fire was to be expected in a battle of this chaotic nature, and most of the soldiers were either elves or goblins, generally considered expendable.

Sally’s fiery nature was ineffective against most of the enemy host, and she relied instead on claws, teeth, and sword. But whenever an ice demon presented itself, she’d melt it with a fireball. Steaming puddles covered the ground around her before the frosty creatures learned to steer clear of her.

A half dozen of the company’s strongest ogres encircled Miriam, compelled to protect her. She couldn’t control the effect, couldn’t switch off her innate siren’s aura. She wanted to soak her sword in demon blood, but few demons were able to get within her reach. She had to settle for unleashing her enchanted song in tightly knotted notes that disintegrated enemies in small bunches.

Seamus had strained his shapeshifting abilities to their maximum. He’d become a huge lumbering minotaur, three times the size of an ogre. He swept his fists from side to side, batting aside his foes. He crushed others beneath his hooves and gored them with his horns. Swords and spears pierced his flesh, and green goblin blood dripped from the wounds. But he kept charging.

Ace and his squad of rocs soared through the darkened skies. The birds’ talons shredded demons while they slurped down others. Soon, their appetites sated, the groggy rocs ground their opponents in their beaks before spitting them out. Hundreds of clinging goblins formed a crawling, living armor on the rocs, and the demons had a hell of a time getting to the vulnerable, reptilian flesh beneath. And when they tried, three or four goblins would leap from the roc. The boarders gleefully cheered as they and their unwilling ride plunged fatally to the earth. Several of the rocs lost their pilots, yet they carried on slaughtering whatever annoyed them, mostly demons. But two rocs did start tearing into each other amid the confusion. Great winged stags soared forth, spitting fire and roaring like lions. Ace, grinning, whipped the reins and led the squad forward.

Soldier for soldier, the army of the damned was little match for Ogre Company. There were few demons large enough to tackle an ogre, and fewer still who could take the physical punishment that an ogre could withstand. Ogres battled with broken bones and shattered jaws and half their blood pouring from vicious gashes. Some would die soon. Many were mortally wounded, but simply too stubborn to die until the battle was over.

The other species held up almost as well. As a matter of pride, the orcs were determined not to fall before the last ogre, and the humans were a tenaciously difficult breed to exterminate despite their lack of any particular strength or talent. The trolls weren’t very dangerous, but anything short of beheading just slowed them down. More than one demon dashed about the battlefield with a limbless troll clamped to its throat, butt, or some other conveniently dangly bit. The goblins perished in droves, but at a rate of twenty goblins to one demon, that was a losing proposition for the underworld minions. Even the elves made a decent show of themselves. They died quickly, but demons loved the taste of elven flesh. Few demons possessed the will to keep their full attention on the fight while a flavorsome corpse lay nearby, and many a demon died with a mouthful of elf after turning its back on an opponent.