Janessa was wondering if Viola heard those same stories when she turned a corner and ran into her, literally. The collision knocked both to the floor, causing both to offer their apologies to one another. Once they recognized each other’s voice they burst into laughter.
Wiping the tears from her eyes Viola was the first to speak. “I was looking for you.”
Janessa held her sides against the pain of her laughter. “Looks like you found me.” The two began laughing again, that time it lasted for several minutes. The laughter had a cleansing effect on them both, for a time all worries were forgotten and any fears as to what they would find in the tunnels disappeared.
Once their laughter faded both friends got to their feet, each helping the other. Now in a more dignified position, Viola brushed out her robes as best she could. “How’d it go with Stang?”
Janessa flushed, she almost forgot about him in the turmoil. “Good,” she nodded with a shrug, “couldn’t have gone any better.” Seeing Viola’s expression go from one of interest to shock Janessa changed the topic. She often forgot how easily the young mage was embarrassed. “I think I found the entrance to the tunnels. Everyone I’ve talked to believes it’s in the northeast corner, in the old Peasant’s View.”
Peasant’s View was one of the oldest and least desirable sections of Hope. Long before the walls were built, the city of Hope existed as a small section of the kingdom of Gilmore. The ruler of the land, Baron Vlas, had a large, fortified tower built in what became the center of the city, where he lived comfortably on the backs of his people. Always one to overestimate his own wealth, he entertained his visitors on the large balcony near the top of the tower. From there they could look down on the forty or so peasants working in the fields, hence it began to be called Peasant’s View.
Loathing their lord, but helpless to do anything, the people continued to work under the supervision of the Baron’s men. For nearly two decades they worked and suffered under his heavy hand, and some say his belt, until King Gilmore died in his sleep at a hundred years old. With the passing of the King, the region destabilized and the Lords of the various lands fought among themselves for the right to take the throne. Gilmore never took a wife, leaving the land without any heirs and causing chaos to erupt throughout the countryside.
During that time, when the Lords were at their most vulnerable, Baron Vlas’ people rose against him. Led by a charismatic young leader named Beren Fleush, the peasants took the guard’s weapons and attacked the tower. After a two week siege the doors of the tower were broken in and the tower was burned to the ground. Baron Vlas was captured and hung from a tree in the center of Peasant’s View. Under the guidance of Beren Fleush, the people began working on the wall to protect them from the other Lords. During that time another nobleman seeking a peaceful end to the constant warring approached them. He had already quelled several parts of the former kingdom of Gilmore and offered them the opportunity to govern themselves, provided they flew his standard and came when he called. Long weeks of discussion ended with Fleush and the villagers agreeing to the terms given them by the nobleman.
Once more they had a Lord in Prince Duncan, but unlike his predecessor, he allowed them to grow and gave them protection with mild taxes. By the time the Reign of Duncan came to an end and another power struggle began, the city of Hope sat secure behind a wall with a large garrison and could sustain itself. It remained one of the few survivors from the Dark Times; how it had never been raised to the ground is still in question. Many believe the spirit of Baron Vlas remains in Peasant’s View and that he does in death what he couldn’t do in life. Protect what was his.
The story made its way through Viola’s mind when Janessa mentioned the name. “Peasant’s View? Are you sure?”
Janessa smiled, “That’s what everyone says.” She leaned in close, her smile changed to one of mischief. “You’re not scared of ghosts are you?”
Viola flushed, but her embarrassment changed to one of anger, though it wasn’t genuine. “No, not at all. Besides, it’s only a story.”
After watching her for a moment, Janessa didn’t believe her. “ Uh huh. Then why is it abandoned and always cold? What better place to hide the entrance?” Her logic seemed sound, perception was far more important than truth in most cases. People believed what they wanted to, plain and simple.
Viola’s anger turned real, but only to a point. She hated being scared, and Janessa knew it. Serve her right if I turn her into a frog, Viola thought. The idea, however brief, did have some merit to it. “If it’s there. Have you checked to make sure?”
That time Janessa’s expression changed while she chewed her lip. “No, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
Viola smiled, she took a small victory in the exchange. “You’ll be happy to know I’ve mastered a locator spell.” She shrugged, “So when you’re wrong, I’ll find it.”
“What do you mean ‘when I’m wrong?’ I have as much chance of being right as that spell of yours.” Janessa glared at her.
Not wanting to get pulled into one of her friend’s bets Viola shrugged, turning on her heel. “We’ll see.”
Janessa followed her towards the stairs, “We will. Now hurry up or we’ll be late in meeting them.”
Viola’s smile broadened. She loved her friend dearly but oh, it would feel so good to prove her wrong.
Chapter 13
The night was clear and cool leaving Gilliam without a doubt they could see for miles by the moonlight were they in a wide open field. As it was, the companions agreed it’d be best to make their way through the forest. Using Berek’s talent, that was how Gilliam chose to think of it, they traveled in a line stepping only where the fighter stepped. The going was slow and tedious but under the circumstances stealth was needed.
Despite the cool of the night Gilliam couldn’t stop sweating. The traveling cloak he wore to hide his weapon from Renard’s spies was a heavy one and not at all practical for stealth. But, as their new comrade pointed out, it was better than the moon’s light striking his white robes. Galin claimed, “It’d send out a signal chime to anyone in the forest as bright as the sun.” Seeing the logic and the danger, Gilliam continued wearing it. Now, if only there was a way to keep the Dwarf quiet.
Metal shod boots, short legs, and a build designed for working underground were not meant to go traipsing through a forest. What’d Galin look like? An Elf? At least he kept his cursing and muttering to himself, the rest couldn’t be helped, although he was trying. Damn, Galin wouldn’t have been surprised if Berek sent him off on some kind of diversion or found some other way of telling him to be quiet. After coming along on his own, Galin knew there was no one to blame but himself. Although trying to think of someone to blame did cross his mind.
His word was his bond, once a Dwarf said he’d do something then he’d walk into the Abyss before doing otherwise. Besides, Galin thought as his fingers flexed over the handle on his hammer, he probably sounded more like a large animal the Ogres would try to avoid, or eat depending on his luck. Always one to take a challenge head on, Galin now wondered why he agreed to act like some damn Elf ranger. With a huff he continued on, deciding to blame the Nursk Brothers. If they acted like any other stone-brained Ogres he’d be eating dinner by now.
As Galin trudged through the forest doing his best to keep quiet, Berek couldn’t stop smiling. He was amazed they hadn’t alerted every bandit, Ogre, or Goblin in the area by then. Not sure as to why, but moving through the dense brush was easy for him. A field mouse made more noise chewing on an acorn than he did. It was as though every branch and thorn so eagerly seeking a purchase on one of his comrades avoided him or slid over him like he was covered in grease.
Berek never felt stranger in his life as he did with each step, bringing them to a stop at spotting the Ogres near the bend in the road to Hope. The Nursk Brothers sat crouching behind a pair of spruce trees keeping their eyes on the road towards the company. Not a bad place for an ambush, just beyond the sight
of Hope’s lookouts but far enough from Renard’s Company to look random.
Having heard the reputation of Hope’s Sheriff Tavers, Berek doubted the man would send help even if it was in front of the gate. It wasn’t out of cowardice, more like the feeling of protecting one’s home. Few men, if any, would risk themselves to help a stranger if it meant leaving their home vulnerable. No, they were on their own and part of him liked it that way.
Sure of their plan, Berek motioned for the others to crouch low and remain out of sight. He suppressed a smile at Galin’s look of gratitude as both he and Gilliam looked as though they’d had the longest walk of their lives. A curious thought considering he hadn’t broken a sweat. Berek would be sure to thank Renard for his training when they got back. For the moment, he lowered his voice so it wouldn’t carry. “They’re across the road at the bend.”
Gilliam nodded but Galin was confused, there was no wind in the forest and he doubted the Nursk Brothers would stand in the road after their efforts. “How do you know?”
Though the Dwarf’s whisper was low it grated on the cleric’s nerves. He was surprised they hadn’t been ambushed already. Berek smiled, “I saw them.”
Galin shook his head, “You must be part Elf, lad. Least you got the good parts.”
Gilliam broke into the conversation before Berek or the Dwarf began laughing. “What’s your plan?”
Berek shrugged, his eyes settling on the trees along the road’s edge where the leaves moved in a gentle breeze. They were up wind from the Ogres, an obvious fact being the Nursk Brothers hadn’t smelled them yet. Of course, being in the forest helped some as well. “We get as close as we can then charge them.”
Gilliam’s face went pale. “Charge them? They could shoot us down before we made it halfway.”
Berek shook his head, “They don’t have any bows.” He nodded at Galin looking for his opinion.
The Dwarf nodded, “Aye, they have no bows but plenty of other weapons. Anything they throw will kill you just the same.” Glancing at Gilliam he continued, “Best be on your toes lad, we may need you fast.”
Gilliam glared at the Dwarf for questioning his courage, but as quick as it appeared it was gone and the cleric understood. Nodding, he focused on the healing spells he prepared. As much as he hated to admit, they worked faster than his preferred choice of prayer. “I’ll be ready.”
Galin looked at Berek, who in turn nodded at his uncle. Both he and the Dwarf had seen their share of battles, both in the pits and out, but for Gilliam it was only his second, as far as the young fighter knew. Certain he could depend on the cleric, he turned to Galin and motioned to the road. In a couple of seconds they rushed out of the brush and attacked.
*****
The Nursk Brothers were tired and bored.. It was against their essence to remain quiet for so long. More accustomed to breaking through doors and piercing the night with battle cries or raucous laughter, sitting in ambush was the worst form of torture to an Ogre. Because of their loyalty to their master Renard, Kruge resisted the urging of his Ogre blood and was less successful in controlling his brother. The swelling under Narsa’s left eye giving testament to his brother’s efforts.
The less intelligent of the two, Narsa was subject to losing his control on a regular basis. Brawling and drinking was what life meant to him. Never one to think things through, Narsa often leapt into a situation without any regard for the safety of himself or others. For that reason, Renard used him for only “special” duties when he wasn’t guarding their master. The Ogre refused to take instruction from anyone except his brother Kruge once his blood became heated.
Kruge always tried to do his best in following Renard’s instructions, though he did find it difficult at times. Like his brother, Kruge was always in the mood to fight, drink, or do both. But being smarter and having more self control made him Renard’s favorite. His master educated him as best he could in the ways of the world, but by Renard’s standard it wasn’t very helpful. At first, Kruge and his brother took part in the pit fights as the main attraction. People were always willing to pay silver to see one of nature’s rarest achievements as Ogre’s rarely gave birth to twins.
The fights were fixed of course, it wouldn’t be profitable to have the infamous Nursk Brothers killed. As they grew and the number of fighters increased they were retired from the fights but for a few specialized ones here and there. Once retired, they were trained by the best Renard could afford in the various weapon skills. While proficient with swords, knives, and such, the brothers preferred more brutal methods. Using their bare hands to rip off limbs and crush heads being among their favorites.
Despite all of their faults, Renard loved their mix of skill and brutality and made them his personal bodyguards with Kruge as the leader. Much like Fech, they wouldn’t be able to count how many “special” tasks they were asked to perform. To them it was just another way to prove their loyalty to their master. But this one would be remembered. Neither of them ever liked Berek, they viewed him as a weak human deserving to be crushed.
For the longest time they were confused as to why their master took such pains with the human. Once they went so far as to think Renard was sickly for showing such bad judgment and they would’ve attacked and killed him had it not been for Fech. For years Renard held them in disdain for their actions, though they had been following their nature. Survival of the fittest. As Berek began turning on Renard, the brothers worked themselves back into his good graces and began viewing Berek with their typical hatred.
Knowing it was only a matter of time until Berek betrayed their now revered master, Kruge set up the fight where the human should’ve died. Instead, Berek bested the best Ogre in camp, next to them, and a Lizard man. The fact those two attacked each other instead of Berek wasn’t the point. The human had killed one of their kind, though a distant cousin and a different branch of their race, and must pay the price.
Intent on finishing the human once and for all, Kruge managed to keep his brother in line while they waited, watching for Berek to come up the road to Hope. Hearing something bursting from the forest behind them followed by a battle cry neither of them ever heard before caught them by surprise. But as their nature dictated, they turned, leaping at their attackers with a sinister smile and battle cry of their own.
*****
The speed the Ogres moved to counter attack surprised Gilliam. He never imagined anything as large as Ogres could have such speed. To his credit, he didn’t hesitate and healing spells came to his mind, ready to be used if needed while his fingers tightened around the handle of his mace. Calmly, he stepped out from the trees so he was unobstructed whether for magic or his own action.
While the speed the ogres moved with was impressive, neither Berek nor Galin were surprised and they met the Ogres head on. The foursome paired off with Berek facing Narsa and Galin with Kruge. “Nothing worse than a smart Ogre.” Galin muttered, ducking a sword swipe then deflecting a thrust with his hammer.
Kruge smiled, “No horseshoes to fix here, Dwarf.” The Ogre missed Galin with a punch while avoiding another thrust. Kruge realized he now hated Dwarves, they were too short for the seven feet tall Ogre to fight properly. He kept forcing Kruge to lunge, bringing himself off-balance. Somewhere in Kruge’s brain, his training told him doing so was bad a moment before the Dwarf’s hammer crushed his knee. Roaring in pain, Kruge fell to a knee but his rage forced the pain from the joint as he caught Galin’s wrist in his hand. The hammer stopped inches from Kruge’s yellow, blackish face.
With a snarl Kruge lifted the Dwarf up by his wrist until Galin’s feet barely touched the ground due to the Ogre’s size while kneeling. Kruge swung his sword at Galin with a blow meant to cut the Dwarf in half. As the blade was about to strike, a series of unintelligible words carried on the air and the sword flew from the Ogre’s hand. Kruge paused, looking at his empty hand wondering where his sword went.
Gilliam let out a breath, the disarming spell worked. Feeling woozy from th
e power coursing through him, Gilliam shook his head to clear. The power filled him with a calm and peace, the fading sensation of which nearly made him ill.
Galin fought against Ogres for over half his life. A sworn enemy of the Dwarves, the Ogres raided the Dwarven homes in search of anything of value. As a result, he became somewhat of an expert on fighting them. Not known for their speed or agility, Dwarves could move faster than most races in a small area due to their size. A main reason neither kingdom never fell to a conqueror.
As soon as the two met on the road, Galin continued to press as close to Kruge as possible. While getting within reach of an Ogre isn’t advisable, none fight as well as Dwarves in close proximity. With each of the Ogre’s swings and thrusts Galin easily sidestepped, ducked, or deflected them as he moved closer.
Due to the height difference, Kruge had to reach, putting himself into unbalanced and awkward positions. Each attack by Kruge put Galin a step closer to his goal until he was able to deflect a final blow and, with all his strength, struck the weight bearing leg, shattering the knee. As Kruge howled and dropped to a knee Galin swung his hammer upwards towards the Ogre’s chin. The blow would’ve broken the Ogre’s neck or crushed the thick skull killing him instantly, but to Galin’s horror, Kruge caught him by the wrist and lifted him off his feet.
Galin could see the pain and rage on Kruge’s face as the sword gleamed in the moonlight. Too careless, Galin realized as the sword swung. In what he was sure would be his final thoughts, Galin couldn’t help noticing the crude craftsmanship of the large sword. He hadn’t heard the cleric, otherwise the sword flying out of the Ogre’s hand wouldn’t have surprised him. Galin found himself looking at the large empty hand sharing the same thoughts as Kruge. He shook off the surprise and grabbed his hammer with his left hand. Due to the strength of the Ogre’s grip he had to pry the hammer from his own hand. He then turned the hammer over and swung at Kruge’s unprotected head. The Ogre turned to see the blow just before it struck.