Alex Lee Martinez - In the Company of Ogres

The rest of the zombies grumbled. When all the flesh fell from the bone, a zombie’s conscription ended. A small scrap of skin clung to the jeweler’s elbow, and several flies busily worked at it. His freedom was soon at hand, and his fellow drafted dead couldn’t help but resent him. The Red Woman disliked this as well. She’d have to find another jeweler soon, yet another task she didn’t have time for.

“Then it has to be me,” said the maiden.

“No, it’s me,” disagreed the cauldron stirrer.

The raven cawed loudly. “Oh, for the heavens’ sake, it’s all of you, you decaying idiots!”

The zombies hung their heads and muttered.

“Not me,” grunted the knight. He subtly raised his arm and sniffed himself, but his creaky, rusting armor drew attention to the maneuver.

The Red Woman sipped her brandy. Frowning, she shot the evil eye at some buzzing flies. They perished, falling into her glass. She took another drink and found this more to her liking.

The mountain rumbled, and she sensed an impending arrival.

The wizard materialized slowly with a great deal of pomp. He’d always been more concerned with the form of the magic than the function. A black tower of smoke billowed in the center of the cavern. Phantom women, absurdly proportioned with impossibly ample bosoms and preposterously thin waists and welcoming hips and long lithesome limbs, spun around in the air, droning in a demonic chant.

“Belok, Belok, Belok, Belok, Belok…”

One of the phantoms hovered before the Red Woman. The ghost’s features peeled away to reveal a shining green skull. Her flowing hair turned to scorpions. Her gown fell to tatters. “Belok has come to call upon you. May the gods grant you mercy, for he certainly shall not.” The phantom’s appearance returned to her pretty state.

The smoke sank back into the ground, and a tall, thin figure stood in its place. His eyes were two golden pearls, his tunic a shimmering silver. He literally glowed with power. But his most striking features were a gray duckbill, a dome of short brown fur spreading from the top of his head to just below his eyes, and webbed, clawed fingertips.

The Red Woman was unpleasantly surprised to see him. She rarely entertained visitors, and this was one she could do without.

“Hello, Belok. Care for some brandy?”

The singing phantoms settled around the wizard’s shoulders. They moaned musically.

With eyes that were still as sharp as in her youth, she spied a new hair sprout on the wizard’s chin. The mountain godling brimmed with magic, and even merely breathing the enchanted air here brought on Belok’s accursed allergies.

He reached into his tunic and held up a gleaming diamond. “By this shard of the Splendid Orb of Truth, I compel you, witch! May you speak only with ultimate veracity!”

“Veracity, veracity!” sang his phantom paramours in melodious glee.

Belok’s golden eyes gleamed. His aura drew all the light to it, thus shining brighter and darkening the cavern at the same time. The gem clutched in his hand bathed the Red Woman in a pure white beam.

“Speak, witch!” shouted Belok. “I command you, speak!”

“Speak, speak, speak,” chanted the chorus.

The Red Woman supposed a wizard allergic to magic shouldn’t make such a production of it. But for all his power, Belok had never been particularly bright. She sat down again and waited for him to finish. It went on for another minute, although she stopped paying attention to the details. By the end, the fur on Belok’s face had advanced its march to cover another fourth of an inch.

“Where is he?” demanded the wizard.

It took a moment for her to realize he was done with his spell. She’d nearly drifted off to sleep.

“Answer unclear,” she replied. “Try again.”

She thought he snarled. It was hard to read such expressions on the wizard’s accursed bill. “But I wield a Shard of Truth. You can’t keep a secret from me.”

“You overestimate yourself, Belok. And your stone.” She hobbled over to his side and plucked the diamond from his hand. “May I?”

He nodded curtly.

She tossed the stone to her jeweler, who examined it for a moment. “This isn’t a Shard of Truth. It’s just a diamond. And a poor quality one at that.”

“You must be mistaken,” said Belok. “I bought the stone from an alchemist in Minetown, and he assured me—”

“He bilked you,” replied the jeweler.

“I am Belok. I am the greatest wizard in all the lands. I cannot be bilked.” His phantoms shrieked mournfully at the very notion.

The Red Woman took the stone from the zombie and gave it back to the wizard. “Fine. Just take your worthless shard and leave me be. I don’t know why we keep having to go through this. Orb of Truth or not, you haven’t the strength to compel me. These visits of yours change nothing. Nothing except you.”

“Damn you, witch. I should rip out your hollow soul and feed it to my minions.”

The phantoms licked their lips.

“Spare me your threats. I’m every bit as powerful as you. Certainly my defeat is a possibility should we duel, but I would not fall easily, and the victory would cost you dearly, wouldn’t it?” She leaned on her staff. “Have you grown that tail yet?”

He frowned. “A little one.”

“Ah, well, I see the transformation is coming along smoothly then. You know, you needn’t ever worry about it if you’d stop using magic.”

“I am Belok! I am magic in the flesh! Vengeance is mine!” His phantoms howled terribly, shaking loose a few of the smaller stalactites. They crashed to the ground, shattering. The zombie maiden sighed while sweeping the pieces into a pile.

“Be off on your vengeance then, but I can’t help you. I can only offer my sympathies toward your plight.” In truth, the Red Woman had absolutely none. He’d earned his curse, and she considered it mercifully short of the punishment he deserved. But there was some irony in it, she supposed. For Belok could’ve lived a perfectly peaceful life had he the wisdom to put aside his magic. Something he could never do. The punishment was only the form of his undoing, while his own mad obsession with arcane power was the true cause. In that way, the curse was quite poetic.

“Shall we continue this discussion?” the Red Woman asked. “I haven’t the time to spare, and neither, I suspect, do you.”

“You can’t hide him forever.”

“And neither can you stave off your transformation forever. Not so long as you insist on casting spells that will not work and visiting enchanted mountains.”

“I’ll be back.” He snapped his duckbill. “And next time, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”

His exit wasn’t the presentation of his entrance. It never was after one of these unsuccessful visits. He and his phantoms simply vanished.

“I thought he’d never leave,” said the raven.

A fly nibbled away the last particle of flesh on the jeweler’s elbow. The skeleton chuckled, falling into an inanimate heap. The rest of the workers glared enviously at the pile of bones.

“You’ll be dead evermore soon enough.” The Red Woman smacked the sweeping maiden lightly on the backside. “Now get back to work.”

The sorceress eyed the jeweler’s remains and shook her head with a sigh.

Consciousness attacked Ned like a thundering beast. Given a choice, he’d have stayed asleep. Forever. It was the next best thing to being dead. But he didn’t have choices. He just had things he had to do, and waking up was one of those things.

His brain throbbed, pushing against the cage of his skull. He thought for sure it must’ve been oozing out of his empty socket. His left arm was stiff and unyielding. Any attempt to move it met only with a terrible ache, so he let it lie. Blood crusted under his nostrils. All these he expected, but there was something new: he tasted fish.