Lord Soth (18 page)

“Good,” said Soth, rising up and heading into the forest.

“There’s two of them over there,” said Colm Farold, pointing to a small clearing just through the trees.

“Three,” said Wersten Kern, pointing to the right side of the clearing.

“So there are.”

Kris Krejlgaard came up behind the two knights after circling the clearing. “It looks as if they’ve captured a group of elf-maidens. Two of the women are tied to trees just past those bushes. They appear to be unharmed, but it’s hard to tell from a distance.”

“Any other ogres?” asked Farold.

“Not in the immediate area,” answered Krejlgaard. “I heard some voices in that direction, but Caradoc was over that way and further along should be Valcic and Vingus.”

“Very well then,” nodded Farold. “We’ll sweep through the woods in that direction once we’re done here. Did you see any weapons?”

“A few clubs and swords, maybe some daggers. Nothing out of the ordinary for ogres.”

“Anything else?”

“There’s a formidable foul stench downwind of them. It burned my eyes and seared my throat.”

Farold turned to Krejlgaard and gave a little smile. “All right then. There are some maidens in distress. Let’s save them, shall we?”

The three knights rose up proudly, drew their swords and rushed into the clearing with a loud, sharp battle cry.

There was the sound of running water up ahead. That seemed strange to Caradoc because he hadn’t seen any creeks or streams cutting through the forest.

He took two more cautious steps forward, using his broadsword to part the overhanging branches ahead of him.

And then there he was.

An ogre.

Relieving himself against a tree.

The ogre’s weapons were lying on the ground several feet away. Caradoc laughed inwardly at the sight. Such a vulnerable position for an ogre to find himself in—for any warrior to find himself in for that matter.

He took a few more steps toward the ogre and smacked his hairy behind with the flat side of his broadsword.

“Ow!” cried the ogre, turning around to see which of his fellows had been so brazen. When he saw Caradoc he was suddenly in a hurry to finish relieving himself, but his body didn’t seem to be cooperating.

Caradoc couldn’t help but laugh at the ugly brute as he struggled to finish his business while he hurriedly tried to collect his weapons off the ground.

“If you were at all familiar with the Oath and the Measure,” said Caradoc, a bit of smug confidence to his voice, “you would know that it is against the Knights of Solamnia’s code of ethics to battle an unarmed opponent in anything other than a fair fight.”

The ogre seemed to be comforted to hear this and calmly went about finishing his business against the tree.

The beast’s sudden casual demeanor angered Caradoc. It was obvious that the ogres had attacked innocent and defenseless travelers, robbing and looting them, and Paladine only knows what else. In just a few moments they had turned an otherwise peaceful journey into a nightmare of horrors. And now the ogre thought he’d be getting a fighting chance just because the knights happened to be governed by a strict and chivalric code. Well,
it was obvious to Caradoc that the ogres lived by no such honorable code of conduct, so why should he be bound by honor in a fight with one of them?

“But since you’ve probably never even heard of the Oath and the Measure,” Caradoc continued, his voice now edged with a hint of contempt. “I see no good reason why I should remain bound to it.”

Caradoc immediately raised his sword and swung it from left to right, the sharp cutting edge leading the way.

Almost at once, the ogre’s head became separated from its shoulders. It spun in the air and hit the ground with a thud, its mouth open and its eyes wide in a look of utter surprise.

A moment later, the ogre’s great body fell to the ground like a tree, covering the upturned head and face with its trunk.

“Stupid savage,” said Caradoc, wiping his bloody sword on some of the leaves around him.

Just then, a loud call came from somewhere to his left. He headed in that direction, the pointed tip of his sword leading the way.

After leaving the elderly elf-woman behind, Soth quickly came upon two more ogres, one a black-haired giant standing a head taller than Soth himself, the other red-headed and somewhat shorter than the first, perhaps even equal in height to Soth.

The black-haired ogre was holding an elf-maiden in his arms, moving his great thick-fingered hands over her seemingly lifeless body. If the elf-maiden was dead, Soth vowed, the ogre’s death would be slow and painful. The red-headed ogre seemed to be asleep on the ground on the other side of a large log. He was of little concern to Soth.

Soth decided to battle the black-haired ogre first and charged headlong in that direction.

Seeing Soth approaching, the ogre dropped the elf-maiden onto the soft layer of humus covering the forest floor. In another second he was up on both feet, sword before him and ready to fight. The ogre wielded a heavy clabbard style of sword, a type of weapon most often used by minotaurs, but just as easily wielded by large and powerful ogres. Soth noticed the weapon, saw the cutting edge backed with a serrated saw-toothed edge that could cut through his leather armor with ease, and suddenly became more cautious. Obviously, these ogres were much fiercer warriors than the ones they’d encountered in Halton. These were nomadic marauders, used to fighting—and
defeating
—an assortment of foes.

That fact was evidenced as Soth realized that this ogre wasn’t about to show Soth any amount of respect or proceed with any caution. He lumbered forward, swinging his clabbard sword as easily as Soth might wield a dagger.

Soth held out his sword in an attempt to slow the ogre’s progress, but to no avail. The ogre kept charging, forcing Soth to leap to the side. He was almost out of the way, but was caught by the ogre’s shoulder. The hard impact sent Soth flying backward through the air. He landed with a hard thump that nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

As Soth clambered to get back to his feet, he felt his clenched hands gather up soft dirt and leaves from the forest floor. For a moment he considered blinding the ogre by throwing the mix into his eyes, but decided the tactic was too foul and very much beneath him. Instead he found a large rock about half the size of a loaf of bread and picked it up. Then as the ogre made a second charge, Soth threw the rock at the ogre’s head.

The rock’s flight was true, and when it hit the ogre’s forehead, the sound it made reminded Soth of solid rock colliding with solid rock.

Following the blow, the ogre stumbled a few more steps then stopped, blinking several times as if unsure where he was. Soth let out a slight sigh of relief and felt pleased with
himself at recalling the squire’s second rule. Simply stated it was this: No matter how well-armed or armored an opponent is, he can still be killed by a simple blow to the head.

This ogre wasn’t dead yet, but he was dazed.

Severely so.

The ogre staggered forward, then back, then forward again. Soth followed his path for a few moments, then decided he’d had enough. With the ogre so incapacitated, it was a simple matter to run the beast through with his sword.

When the fallen ogre was lying still on the ground, Soth moved forward to take a better look at the creature.

He took one step …

And was sent hurtling forward by a heavy blow to the small of his back. As Soth tripped over the fallen black-haired ogre, he realized he’d forgotten about the red-headed one sleeping on the other side of the log. When Soth hit the ground, he did his best to roll and rise up to his feet, but several of his ribs were bruised and any sudden movements sent pain shooting up through his body.

Yet despite the pain, he somehow made it onto his feet and managed to turn and face his attacker.

Thankfully the red-headed ogre was the smaller of the two. But even so, Soth would have been hard-pressed to defeat the ogre at the best of times. Now, with his bruised, or perhaps even broken ribs, the ogre would prove to be more than a match for him.

“The forest is full of Knights of Solamnia,” said Soth, hoping to scare the ogre off and avoid having to fight him at close quarters. “If you turn and run now, you’ll be able to leave this forest with your life.”

The ogre simply laughed, a loud mocking call that boomed through the woods. Soth said nothing, hoping the ogre’s laugh would rally the knights around him.

But as the seconds passed, Soth began to get the feeling that he was alone in this fight. Very well then, he thought, raising his sword to confront the beast.

The ogre also carried a sword, one that was slightly wider and longer than Soth’s own. Usually this would put Soth at a disadvantage, but it appeared that the ogre was unable to wield the weapon without the use of both hands, which might be enough to tip the balance in Soth’s favor.

“Only one way to find out,” he muttered, moving forward to confront the beast.

Almost at once their swords came together, clanging and singing as they banged and scraped against one another with each mighty blow. Soth quickly realized that it would be impossible for him to match the ogre blow-for-blow. Instead he began moving left and right in order to avoid having to counter as many blows as possible. Soon the ogre began to tire, his movements becoming wilder and wilder with each progressively sluggish swing of his sword.

Frustrated, the ogre held his sword before him and charged at Soth, most likely hoping to get close enough to render their swords useless and to force them to switch to wrestling and barehanded fighting. Needless to say, Soth wanted no part of that, given that he was in no condition to try and kill an ogre with his bare hands.

So, as the ogre came toward him, he ducked down to the ground, falling on his hands and knees and turning himself into an obstacle too large for the ogre to avoid.

Soth winced in pain as the ogre’s heavy shins slammed into his side, but the tactic had paid off. Like a tree cut off at its stump, the ogre began to fall.

By the time the beast hit the ground, Soth was already on his feet towering over him. The ogre was dazed by the fall and had even cut himself by falling on top of his own blade. The wound wasn’t enough to keep him down however, and Soth had to quickly see to it that the ogre would never be getting up again.

He clasped both hands around the upturned hilt of his sword and drove the point of his blade downward with all his might, through the ogre and into the soft ground beneath him.

The breath came out of the ogre’s body in a
whoosh
, and then all was silent.

All except for …

Soth listened closely for the faint sound.

There was a low moan coming from somewhere nearby. He looked at the elf-maid the dark-haired ogre had laid upon the ground, but she was nowhere to be seen. More than likely she had run from the scene as soon as she was able.

Who, or what then, was making the sound?

Something caught Soth’s attention, a slight movement in the left corner of his field of vision. There seemed to be another maiden, this one fair-haired, lying on the other side of the large fallen log.