Winterheim

12

"Tsk-I knew something was bad about this,” Dinekki noted tartly. “Not that these youngsters ever listen to me!”

Mouse was standing on the shore beside the shaman, squinting up the bright, sunlit slope. He could clearly see the huge, menacing figure, brandishing a club and descending slowly toward the much smaller shape of Moreen, who was clinging to the steep slope.

“What is that thing up there?”

“Trouble,” retorted the old woman, not too helpfully he thought, but Mouse knew better than to distract the shaman as she rummaged through her pack and quickly pulled out a small circlet that seemed to be made of twigs and seaweed.

She whistled, loudly, and the gulls that had been swirling above the cove abruptly swept close, one of them coming to land on the ground at the shaman’s feet. To Mouse it sounded as if Dinekki was mimicking bird sounds. She clacked and cawed as the bird watched her with dark, glittering eyes. Finally the woman extended her hand, and the gull snatched the thin wreath in its beak. With a flap of its white wings it flew across the beach, skimmed the surface of the water, and still bearing its odd burden, started to climb.

“What did you tell the bird?” Mouse ventured to ask finally, feeling sick to his stomach as he saw the giant, club-wielding creature advancing down the slope toward Moreen and her precarious perch. From his angle it was hard to see how far apart they were, but he could tell that the brute was descending steadily, and Moreen didn’t seem to be moving.

“Just asked it for a little help on behalf of Chislev Wilder. I guess we’ll have to watch and see if it understands.”

Karyl Drago was pleased that his initial rockslide hadn’t swept all the humans down the slope and into the sea. Though the end result would be much the same, the avalanche lacked the fun of the bone-crunching melee he so looked forward to. It looked as if he were going to be able to get his club wet and flex his muscles a little bit. Truthfully, the big ogre admitted in a tiny corner of his mind, since this was the only action he had seen in ten years, he wanted to stretch things out a little, to really enjoy himself.

To that end, he made his way cautiously down the steep terrain of the gully. His feet were too big for most of the footholds, so he balanced his heels on the steps and used his free hand to help him keep his balance. His tree-trunk of a club he hoisted easily in his other hand, ready to swing it as soon as one of the intruders came into range.

Despite their advantage in numbers, he didn’t think these humans would provide much sport. His best hope was that they carried some pretty golden things with them so that when they were dead he could look through their belongings and claim a new prize or two for his collection.

The closest human was now looking up at him, and he recognized her as a female. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem terribly afraid, not like most of the human slave women he had encountered, who would run away screaming if he so much as furrowed his brow at them. Instead, she glared at him with a look of cool appraisal, holding tight to the mountainside as he made his way downward.

She was some distance below him still. He knew that he could have smashed her off the mountain by throwing a well-aimed rock. Even if he missed with a few tosses, there was nowhere for her to hide. The big ogre shrugged. He had decided to use his club, and use his club he would.

Something hissed past his ear, surprising him. He heard a clattering on the stones above and behind him, and he turned to look, seeing a broken arrow lying next to a nearby boulder. Blinking in surprise, Karyl looked farther down the slope and saw that another of the intruders had pulled out his bow and was even now aiming another feathered missile.

That one sped upward, and the big ogre hunched to the side, feeling a pinprick in his shoulder as the shaft stuck there, quivering like a living thing. Karyl was impressed. After all, he wore a stiff shirt of dried leather and two layers of bearskins over that. For this archer to penetrate all of that in a steep, uphill shot was no mean feat. He left the arrow jutting there for inspection later. Though he could feel the scrape of the head against his skin, he knew that the missile had done no real damage.

At first Karyl didn’t notice the gull winging past, but when the bird wheeled around a second time he took note of this curiosity-because the seacoast birds rarely bothered to fly this high. He saw that the creature had something clutched in its beak, and his mind registered dim surprise when that circular object was dropped. He chuckled, amused by the odd impression that the bird was actually aiming at him!

It was a small ring of kelp and threadlike strands, he saw, as the wreath landed lightly on the stones below his feet. Curious, he reached to touch the thing-then reared back as it vanished from sight. Not just the wreath vanished-everything did! Somehow a dense fog had materialized, vapors so thick that he couldn’t even see his own feet. The ogre waved his club menacingly through the damp air, watching the tendrils of mist swirl and float. He could feel the moistness on his skin, in his hair, on the stout wooden haft of his weapon.

Ogres are not the most imaginative of creatures, but Karyl Drago deduced that the fog had somehow been caused by that thin wreath, no doubt through some kind of magic. He doubted he could make it go away, so instead he paused to think about what he should do next. His duty was clear, of course. He was determined to guard the entrance to Winterheim at the Icewall Pass. He had ventured out of that entrance to confront the intruders who were approaching.

Now, however, he could see nothing of those intruders. He suspected that they were still below him, but it occurred to him that they could be sneaking past him, a dozen feet away to either side, and he might not even know they were there because of the fog. He wasted no time regretting that he hadn’t squished them all with a landslide, but his duty was clear.

Retracing his route along the gully, the big ogre slowly made his way back to the summit of the pass. The gap between the lofty shoulders of the Icewall Pass was narrow, barely a twenty-foot-wide notch between two massive balustrades of icy rock, and he had no trouble reaching out with his hands to identify first one, then the opposite side of the familiar embrace of the gap. Just beyond and to the right was the entrance to the cave.

He felt the warm air of that aperture as he drew close, smelled the familiar hint of brimstone that he had come to associate with Winterheim’s natural steam heat. Two more steps took him into the cave mouth, though even here the strange fog seemed to have penetrated, and he had to feel with his hands to make sure he was in the right place.

Now it was time to roust his garrison. He clumped into the chamber a hundred paces from the entrance to the Icewall Gate, where the twelve guards maintained their lair. Roughly he kicked a couple who were sleeping and grunted a cryptic warning to the others.

“Humans come.”

Quickly the ogres picked up their clubs, spears, and axes, and followed their leader into the main passageway.

A short distance from the entry to the gate, a narrow shelf constricted the passage into a ledge beside a deep crevasse. Karyl deployed his men in several shallow niches on the side of the wall away from the crevasse, bidding them to remain there until he ordered them to attack. Finally, he turned to face the outside. He sat on a square boulder that had served as his guardpost seat for the past ten years, rested his mighty club across his knees, and waited for the humans to come to him.

Moreen knew she had Dinekki to thank for her miraculous reprieve. Once before the shaman’s magic had helped them to hide from ogres by raising a curtain of impenetrable fog. She didn’t know how the old woman had gotten the spell up to the summit of the lofty mountain, but she murmured a soft prayer of thanks just the same.

She strained her ears, listening for some sign of the monster’s advance. She didn’t dare move, certain that if she did she would make some sound that would betray her own position. However, she did shift her posture slightly, freeing up her right hand so that she could draw her sword. The cold steel of the blade, wet with droplets of fog and bare inches from her face, gave her at least an illusory sense of security.

Finally she heard a footfall on the rock, a dislodging of a few pebbles. With relief she understood that the sound came from below, and in another instant Kerrick was stretched beside her on the steep face of rock, his own sword in his hands.

“What was that thing?” he whispered. “Did you get a look at it?”

She nodded but shrugged. “Some kind of giant, I guess. It could have been a huge ogre, but I’ve never seen one that size. The face was pretty frightening-it had tusks as big as a bull walrus!”

“Any sign of it now?”

“Not since the fog came up.”

“Nice trick, that,” Kerrick said. “Saved us all, for the time being, anyway.”

“What about Bruni and Barq?”

“They’re coming along behind,” the elf replied. “We split up as a precaution, but all three of us kept climbing. The rest of the war party is following cautiously.”

Moreen wanted to ask him what they should do now, but she knew that her guess was as good as his. Her guess suggested that there was no point in doing anything but continuing with their mission.

“Let’s keep climbing,” she said, “and hope this fog hides us until we get to the top.”

Kerrick nodded. The fog was extremely disorienting, but the slope was so steep that they had no difficulty figuring out which way they had to go. Handholds appeared through the mist a few feet from their faces, and they slowly inched upward.

It seemed as if the whole day had passed, though in reality it was probably little more than an hour before the slope abruptly leveled out. For the first time since they had started climbing Moreen stood up straight. She and Kerrick held their swords ready, but nothing moved into their view nor made a sound within their hearing.

She felt a gust of wind against her cheek and shivered. Slowly the mist dispersed, carried through the pass by the moving air. Soon they could see Barq One-Tooth and Bruni just below them and to either side, and they waited for their two companions to join them in the notch of Icewall Pass. The rest of the warriors came into view farther below, Mouse leading the band. Slyce was scrambling along beside him, and even Dinekki was somehow making the ascent, disdaining any offers of help. Soon they began cresting the ridge, a dozen, then a score or more fighters joining the four companions.

Within a few minutes the last of the magical fog had dispersed, revealing once more the sun-speckled expanse of the White Bear Sea. For the first time they could see beyond the Icewall, and Moreen was stunned by the vista of glaciers and snowy summits arrayed before her, an expanse of landscape as inhospitable as anything she could ever have imagined.

“Well, we made it this far,” growled the Highlander thane. He nodded at Bruni a trifle sheepishly. “I owe my life, or at least my unbroken bones, to the wench-er, the woman-here. She made a nice catch.”

Bruni smiled benignly. “You’d do the same for me, I trust,” she said.

“Aye, that I would,” replied Barq. He glowered at Kerrick and Moreen as if challenging them to dispute him.

Instead, the chiefwoman nodded then turned to the gap. “Where to from here?” she wondered.

“Right there,” Kerrick said, pointing to the mountainside. Moreen saw a wisp of steam there and only then perceived that there was a narrow crack in the face of the rock.

“Do you think that giant-or whatever it is-is waiting in there?” asked the chiefwoman, as she examined the narrow cavern mouth leading into the bedrock at the summit of Icewall Pass.

“I think we have to assume that it is,” Kerrick replied. “We may as well just call it a giant. That club he carried was as big as a tree!”

“Bah-giant or ogre, they both bleed, and they both hit the ground hard, when they fall,” growled Barq One-Tooth. He held his great battle axe in both of his hands. “I have a score to settle with the brute. I’ll go first.”

Bruni held her cudgel, and Moreen and Kerrick had their swords drawn as they gathered behind the brawny Highlander and peered into the dim recesses of the Icewall Gate. The rest of the war party assembled behind them, some still climbing. A hundred or more fighters had reached the top of the pass, and these brandished their swords, spears, and bows, pressing forward in the confined space. Steam wafted in small wisps from the entrance, and they could all feel the warmth emanating from the hole in the ground.

“It must be like Brackenrock,” Moreen suggested. “Heated from within by the ground steam of the world.”

“I don’t care how it’s heated,” Barq snorted. “I want to see how they guard it. Don’t see any sign of that big bastard yet, but it gets dark in there pretty quick.”

“Here.” Bruni pulled from her backpack one of the many torches that the party, knowing they would be traveling underground, had brought with them. Kerrick struck a spark from his tinderbox, and in moments the oily head of the crude light sprang into flame.

“Ready those brands back there,” called Kerrick to the men who were making ready to enter the cavern. “One for every four or five people should be good-and you who carry the fires make sure to hold them high!”

“Aye-hold it high,” ordered Barq, starting forward into the shadowy passage. The walls pressed close to either side, barring them from walking side by side, so Bruni came next, followed by Kerrick holding the burning brand aloft.

Moreen, behind these three, could only clutch her sword and wish that she could see around her companions. She rubbed at the patch over her ruined eye, suddenly and acutely feeling the lack of adequate depth of field. There was nothing for it but to advance and to be ready.

Abruptly she heard Barq yodel a battle cry. She saw the thane’s axe raised high as he charged forward, the other companions racing to follow. The Highlander’s shout was almost instantaneously overwhelmed by a bestial roar emerging from the depths of the cavern.

The passage grew wider here, and Moreen darted to the side. She saw the monstrous form of the gate’s guardian rising, towering high over Barq One-Tooth, seeming to fill the entire passage with his massive girth. The Highlander was nothing if not courageous, and she was awed by the sight of his fearless charge. He slashed with his axe, but the giant’s massive club swung around and swatted the big warrior to the ground as if he were nothing more than a pesky child. Barq rolled to the left, tried to claw to his knees, then disappeared with a shout of alarm.

Bruni closed in next, while Kerrick lunged beside her, driving forward, stabbing both with his keen steel blade and the flaming torch. Light flared, illuminating tusks and eyes that glittered brightly-Moreen was certain she saw an expression almost of rhapsody there as the battle was joined. The massive gatekeeper swung his huge club again, and Bruni raised her own cudgel in an attempt to parry the heavy timber. Moreen groaned as she saw the blow bat her friend’s weapon aside. The giant’s heavy stick smashed into the big woman’s shoulder, slamming her into the cavern wall, where she slowly slumped to the floor.

The chiefwoman hesitated, looking for an opening, and men pushed past her. Two Highlanders charged in a frenzy. They closed on the monstrous creature with axes whirling, but the guardian of the gate let loose a gleeful howl and smashed them both to the side with a single blow. They rolled after Barq One-Tooth and in an instant they were gone, having utterly disappeared.

Only then did Moreen realize that a wide crevasse yawned to the left, a deep and shadowy gap that had swallowed Barq One-Tooth when the Highlander had rolled off the lip. In the flaring torchlight, as more fighters came forward, she saw his fingers, clinging to the lip of the precipitous drop, and she threw herself prone on the ground, grasping each of the thane’s hands in one of her own.

Kerrick, meanwhile, danced back from the gigantic defender’s next blow, though not before the elf’s blade scored a fierce stab into the creature’s massive thigh. This strike drew a roar loud enough to rumble in the bedrock underneath Moreen’s belly. She felt acutely exposed as she pulled on Barq’s hands-a single downward blow from that mighty club would almost certainly break her back or smash her skull.

Kerrick wouldn’t let that happen. The monster took a step forward, and the elf lunged in again, sword and torch dancing in a whirling pattern. Again the brute swung that club, and once more the elf ducked out of the way. The stout timber cracked into the cavern wall with a sound of splintering wood, sending a shower of wooden daggers across the floor. The end of the club bounced past Moreen and vanished over the lip of the crevasse. It was several seconds before she heard it banging against rocks far below-and even then it continued to fall, ricocheting violently into the subterranean depths.

More Highlanders came on in a furious charge. Arrows whooshed through the air, mostly clattering off hard stone, though several jutted from the stiff tunic of the huge warrior. Swords flashed silver in the shifting torchlight, and the beast bashed his club back and forth, driving a dozen warriors away. Only then did the creature seem to make a decision, throw back his head, and shout a guttural command.

“Hargh, me garkies!” he cried. “Come to fight now!”

Moreen saw a surge of ogres, ten or a dozen of them, come rushing into the fight, emerging from niches and gaps along the cavern wall. Many Highlanders fell in that first rush, smashed to the ground by clubs and spears wielded by these newcomers or pushed right back to the rim of the precipice by the momentum of the sudden charge. With roars and howls the fresh attackers swept into the melee, the fight now surging through the level floor space between the wall on one side and the lethal drop on the other. Two men fell, screaming, while other humans united to push a charging ogre off the edge. Another guardian came lumbering forward, but Mouse knelt and extended his spear as a trip bar. The ogre stumbled across the obstacle and fell howling into the chasm. Moreen kept her grim hold on the thane’s hands, praying that no ogre would see her in her helpless position.

Barq One-Tooth, in the meantime, managed to fling one of his legs up and over the edge of the precipice. The Lady of Brackenrock reared back, tugging hard, slipping on a floor growing slick with blood. A heavy body-another ogre-thudded to the ground beside her, a spear jutting from its neck. She used the twitching corpse for leverage, wrestling with all of her strength to pull Barq to safety. With a grunt and a curse the big man rolled his body onto the floor.

The chiefwoman spun around and picked up the sword that she had dropped in her headlong dive to save the thane’s life. She looked up at the cave’s gigantic defender, who was snarling like an angry bear and looming over Kerrick, like a mountain towering over a village temple. This was indeed a mighty ogre, she concluded, as the torchlight reflected again from those two blunt, yellowed tusks. The creature’s belly swelled outward, bulging over a crude leather belt, and each foot was encased in a boot that seemed to be the size of a full-grown walrus.

Other defenders were smaller, but tough, smelly ogres. A knot of Highlanders pressed the attack, and one hulking ogre pitched one over the edge. Another ogre rushed in to help, and Moreen stabbed that one in the flank, drawing a howl of pain and sending the brute tumbling to the floor. A human killed him with a single chop of his axe, as the chiefwoman turned back to the giant, looking for a way to help Kerrick.

The elf flailed with the torch, fanning the flames with rapid, swirling swipes, but the ogre leader pressed forward, swatting at the fire as if it were an annoying fly. The wall rose up beside him. Kerrick was clearly running out of options. The creature was wielding only half of his original cudgel now, but with its bristling cap of splinters the broken timber looked even more menacing than the original.

Kerrick darted forward one more time, slashing with his sword, carving another slice into the ogre’s massive thigh, drawing another bellow. The elf skipped to the side, darting past the huge guardian, as the monster spun around. Heading farther into the cave, Kerrick turned to face the monster. His back to the rest of the battle, the ogre leader seemed completely focused on this lone attacker.

Bodies were strewn everywhere across the cavern, and men and ogres stumbled and tripped as they frantically maneuvered over the increasingly tangled floor. Barq was scrambling to his feet to charge forward when Moreen grasped his wrist. Scowling, he froze as he saw Bruni pushed against the nearby wall. All three exchanged a look.

The massive ogre leader lunged after Kerrick, smashing the floor with the splintered end of his cudgel, just missing the elf. Kerrick saw the other three watching him, caught a signal from Barq, and retreated another half dozen steps. Still pursuing, the monster lumbered forward, the crevasse yawning a half step away to his left.

The trio charged forward in unison, making no sound except their feet scuffling across the floor. At the same time the ogre made a vicious sidearm slash, a blow that Kerrick ducked. The momentum of the swing left the monster overbalanced, staggering to the left to recover his footing.

Bruni and Moreen hit him in the right side, at the same time as Barq grasped the fellow’s bearskin cape and jerked the hulking creature toward the left. The chiefwoman punched as hard as she could, using the hilt of her blade to knock the brute in the side. One huge foot slipped from the rim of the deep pit, and the ogre seemed to remain suspended in a weightless dance for a moment.

He recovered with amazing nimbleness, squatting to regain balance, then planting the outward boot firmly on the lip of the crevasse. With a mighty shrug he tossed Bruni and Moreen off. The chiefwoman flailed with her sword, scraping the bulging arm before she sprawled roughly along the cavern floor.

Spinning, the ogre punched Barq One-Tooth in the face. The Highlander’s head jerked backward, and he staggered away, uttering a long mournful groan. Finally he fell onto his back, right at the edge of the crevasse, and lay still. Blood gushed from his nose.

Moreen also lay on her back, clutching her sword. She saw the monster loom overhead. That bestial face looked down at her, and the ogre hesitated. Slowly, it closed one eye-she had the strange impression that it was examining her eyepatch, mimicking her injury by blocking the view from one of its own eyes. In that instant of respite, she rolled to her side and bounced to her feet, backing against the cave wall opposite the crevasse.

She stumbled over a dead ogre, saw a knot of men-four or five of them-grappling with another of the brutish defenders. The whole seething tangle perched precariously on the lip of the crevasse, and toppled like a writhing creature. Screams and howls rose from the darkness, ogre and human voices mingling for shrill seconds before they terminated in brutal, violent smacks of flesh against stone.

Bruni knelt nearby, fumbling with her pack, pulling out the wrapped Axe of Gonnas. The big ogre glanced at her then looked deeper into the cave-clearly it was still concerned about the elusive elf. Kerrick crouched in the darkness, long sword extended. Barq hadn’t moved, and Moreen prayed that the brute wouldn’t notice the bleeding Highlander, since one shove would have been enough to send the man over the edge.

Finally, Bruni pulled the huge axe free. She tore away the leather shroud in a single gesture, then raised the weapon and twisted the hilt. The feeble light of the dying torch reflected on the golden blade, and the ogre’s eyes widened as it saw that sheen of pure metal. Bruni lifted the haft, and immediately flames sparkled into life, bright fire outlining the edge of the golden cutter. With an almost bestial roar the big woman charged forward, swinging the weapon. With the impetus of her blow the flames erupted into a roaring ball of fire, rushing straight toward the ogre’s head.

Those huge eyes remained widened, more in awe than fear, Moreen thought. The monster uttered a surprisingly plaintive moan as Bruni lunged closer, the fire searing the shaggy breast of the ogre’s cloak, but instead of retreating the creature reached out a hand as if he would grab that fire, that golden blade, draw it close, and crush it. Bruni pressed the attack, jabbing with the fiery blade, and at last the brute took a step back.

There was no floor behind him. The human woman maintained the thrust of her assault, and this time the ogre was too far gone to recover his balance. He swatted a great fist toward the head of the golden axe, missing by several feet as Bruni pulled the blade out of the way.

The ogre toppled into the darkness and was gone.