Alex Lee Martinez - In the Company of Ogres

Ned pushed Miriam away from him. The staff flared as he grew to match Rucka’s size. The grayness in Ned’s left arm grew lighter and lighter until it was a translucent white that spread from his shoulder to cover his entire body. His many scars turned into a gruesome black lattice across his flesh, and beneath that skin lurked not muscle and bone, but an ocean of lights, of colors and shapes that didn’t belong in this universe, held behind a fragile illusion of mortal tissues.

The staff in his hand grew and changed along with him.

It twisted into a spiky gnarled stick, squirming with a life of its own.

“You can’t defeat me, Rucka,” said Ned. “Even the unbridled egotism of a demon emperor must surely see the pointlessness of this.”

Rucka’s wounds closed. He stood and sneered. “Oh, but I know your weakness.”

He launched himself into Ned. The force of his charge carried both of them across the citadel to crash into the barracks. The building collapsed, burying them in a mountain of rubble. A blast of power disintegrated most of the debris, but some pieces shot out with dangerous velocity. They bounced off the ogres, but a few elves and humans were knocked off their feet to lie dazed and bleeding on the ground. One particularly large chunk hurtled at Frank. The ogre deflected it with his fists. His fingers broke audibly, and he grunted.

“Frank, are you okay?” asked Regina.

“It’s nothing.”

Ned and Rucka stood locked in a deadly embrace. They wrestled over the staff as it crackled with power, seeming to draw strength from both of them. Rucka dug two of his clawed hands into Ned’s throat, and Ned fell to one knee.

Miriam drew a sword from a convenient corpse. “Come on,” she grunted with her worn voice. “We have to help him.”

Frank and Regina readied their own weapons.

A column of crimson mist rose in their path. It spoke. “No. You can’t help him any more than you already have.” The mist solidified into the Red Goddess. She wasn’t the same gnarled, old creature she’d been. She was now tall and youthful and strikingly long and angular. “It’s time to find out if Ned is ready.”

“Ready for what?” asked Regina.

The Red Goddess smiled. “Ready to be his own keeper.”

The Void roared. The staff burned brighter, and Rucka was sent hurtling, screaming, blazing into the air. The demon emperor howled all the way until he hit the ground in the woods a mile or two outside the citadel.

The Mad Void glanced down at the Red Goddess. “I see you’ve remembered what you are.” There was an absence in his voice, a certain lack of Nediness that was hard to define but still missing.

“The cosmic counterbalance that bound us both to slumber has broken. You remember what you are, so I remember what I am. You awake. I awake. That is the way of things, the nature of this ancient magic.”

“I remember,” said the Void. “Just as I remember that even your power is no match for mine.”

She nodded. “You are the supreme destroyer. There is no equal.”

The Void frowned. Without saying another word, he soared off into the sky after Rucka.

“He’s going to win, isn’t he?” asked Miriam.

The goddess nodded. “There can be no doubt.”

“Then why am I worried?” asked Regina.

The continent quaked as Ned collided with the earth, and the roar of clashing gods threatened to shake Copper Citadel to ruins. What little of it that wasn’t reduced to ruins already. Many soldiers of Ogre Company were knocked off their feet again, and most had the good sense to not bother getting up anymore.

“Because to do so, Ned might very well have to become a greater monster than Rucka could ever be.”

“Can’t you help him?” asked Frank.

“No one can help Ned but Ned now. Even the gods must sit this one out.” And so the Red Goddess did sit, looking quite indifferent as the sky darkened and cracks appeared in the earth.

“We have to do something,” said Miriam.

“Then by all means, rush to his side if you must.” The Red Goddess waved her hand. Miriam disappeared in a scarlet flash.

Regina stepped forward. “Excuse me, but could you—” She vanished with another wave.

Frank, his broken hands hanging limply at his side, approached. He didn’t even have to ask, and she teleported him away.

Ace, Elmer, and a small band of goblins were next, but the goddess lowered her hand.

“Well, if this is how it’s going to be, I suppose it’ll be easier to do you all at once,” she remarked. “Everyone who wishes to have a good view of the end of all things, please raise your hand.”

The destructive powers of the Mad Void and Rucka were nearly without limits. Each sought to annihilate the other, but they regenerated from every wound. They disintegrated each other over and over again, only to reform instantly. Each rebirth burned away some of their boundless might, and the loser would be the godlike entity that was depleted first. But godlike entities had a lot of energy to burn, and it could take a century or two to find a winner — providing the universe wasn’t destroyed in the process.

Reality itself was far more delicate than either of these titans. It began to crumble around them. The speaking staff held between them became the focus of their struggle. It radiated twisted energies. The forest withered around them. Small birds and beasts were consumed by invisible flames. A blizzard of black snow fell from a red sky even as the air grew hot and sticky.

Rucka belched a toxic cloud. It dissolved the Void, the grass, and nearby stones. The dirt began to boil and churn. The Void reformed and blasted a lance of power from his eye that sliced Rucka’s head in half and burrowed into the earth. A torrent of magma gushed from the world’s wound as the demon emperor’s skull knit itself back together.

Grinning, Rucka tore at the Void’s side with his two free hands. The demon sank his fangs into the Void’s neck. Rucka’s long, barbed tail speared his opponent through the chest and pulled out the Void’s malformed heart. The organ continued to beat even as Rucka devoured it, laughing.

The gulped heart erupted in a spiky mass. It filled Rucka’s throat, stomach, and bowels. Thorns tore at his flesh from the inside out. Pain wracked his body. The Void’s heart blazed with such unnatural darkness that even the Emperor of the Ten Thousand Hells must shrink from its touch.

Rucka collapsed into a spasmodic heap. He shrieked, foaming at the mouth, tearing at his own guts. It was only temporary. If necessary, Rucka could rip himself apart to extract the heart and still regenerate.

The Void stood over the demon and considered how to rid himself of this nuisance once and for all. The answer was obvious. He must call down enough of his power to end this. One blow with sufficient strength of the Mad Void behind it would destroy anything. It could destroy everything.

The staff in the Void’s left hand churned with power; like a miniature sun, it cast aside the night in its blinding light. The world beneath his feet quaked and whimpered as the Mad Void readied to deliver the strike that would obliterate the demon emperor and this small corner of the universe.

And then he saw them. All about him. Little things. Insignificant, unimportant. Not even worth noticing. Yet he noticed them as they stood in the stinking, blackened snow, so deep that it came to an ogre’s waist. The soldiers of the company looked on, their faces etched in confusion and quiet terror.

His gaze fell across Regina and Miriam. He couldn’t quite remember them anymore. There was nothing to remember. They were but particles of dust. They mattered not at all.

“Then why do you remember their names?” asked the Red Goddess, standing suddenly by his side.