The Ogre's Pact (3 page)

“What about the verbeeg?” asked a guard.

“There is ho verbeeg,” Brianna snapped. “Now perhaps you should do as I suggested.”

The earl glared at Brianna and shook his head. “Finish the search.” he rasped.

The guards resumed their havoc, though they were careful to probe the floor of Blizzard’s stall only from the adjoining pens. It was not long before they shoved the mules aside to search the straw piled at the base of the loft ladder. Soon, one of them thrust his spear deep into the heap and withdrew a bloody tip.

“Got something!” he chortled.

The other guards pointed their weapons at the heap. “Come out, thief.” ordered one.

Something stirred, then a sharp hiss sounded from the pile, filling the barn with a foul, sulfurous stench. Crying out in disgust, the guards doubled over and began to throw up.

In the next instant, a cacophony of braying and screeching filled the air. The mules bolted for the door, joined by a swarm of rats that had scurried from beneath the mangers and several owls that had dropped from the rafters. Morten stepped in front of Brianna, forcing the stampede to divide around her and consequently protecting Tavis, Runolf, and Earl Dobbin as well. Still, the lord mayor did not escape unscathed. The horrid smell caused him to retch, and the resultant heaving of his bruised ribs dropped him to his knees in pain.

“Glacier skunk!” Tavis gasped, more perplexed than sickened by the rancid stench. Glacier skunks rarely left their mountain homes, and he had never heard of one actually entering a village.

The others in the room were less curious than alarmed. Morten swept Brianna up in his arms and lumbered out the door with Runolf close on his heels. Next went the guards, doubled over, stumbling, and stinking like carcasses left in the sun to rot. They abandoned the lord mayor readily, for glacier skunks were to the smaller striped and spotted skunks what true giants were to giant-kin. When a glacier skunk’s fumes hit a man, rivers of stinging tears poured from his eyes, hot embers filled his throat, and his stomach churned like a tumbling boulder. Sometimes he coughed blood, occasionally he stopped breathing, and, worst of all, the awful stench stayed with him until a cleric cast the proper spell to remove it.

When it became apparent Earl Dobbin did not have the strength to rise, Tavis scooped him up in one arm and left the barn. After handing the man to the cowardly guards, the scout pulled an arrow from his quiver and turned toward the barn, prepared to kill the skunk if it chose this moment to come running out.

The earl grasped Tavis’s arm and pulled him back. “Don’t think you’ve won, Burdun,” he hissed. Tiny beads of sweat were running down the lord mayor’s pained face, and he could take no more than a shallow breath. “You’ll rue this day.”

Lady Brianna took the lord mayor’s hand off Tavis’s arm. “Why? At least he knows the difference between a glacier skunk and a verbeeg.” She sneered at the earl, then added, “I’m certain this afternoon’s events will make amusing conversation this evening-especially the part where Tavis carries you from the barn because your own guards left you to the skunk.”

The earl’s face darkened to a stormy maroon. “Tell your tale if you wish,” the lord mayor spat. “But be assured that if you continue to protect this cur and his thieves, it’ll be my story that draws the last laugh.”

Earl Dobbin pulled free of his men and staggered out the gate. His guards loitered in the courtyard for a few moments, debating whether or not to continue the search. Finally, when their fellows returned from the timing hall and the lodge without finding any sign of the verbeeg, they decided to leave rather than search the barn again.

Once the guards were gone, Lady Brianna turned to Tavis. “I’ve enjoyed your party tremendously.”

“I’m sorry for the interruption.”

Brianna grinned. “Don’t be. It was most delightful to see Blizzard plant her hooves in the earl’s ribs.” she laughed. “But the time has come for me to leave. There’s much I must do before the ball this evening.”

Tavis, his stomach knotting in anxiety, frowned at mention of the ball. “Princess, I’ve a question before you go.”

Brianna’s expression changed to one of concern. “Yes?”

“Your father didn’t invite me to the ball.”

“He didn’t invite any commoners,” the princess said.

Tavis nodded. “I understand, but I’d like to know who you’ll choose this evening.”

Brianna’s gaze fell to the ground, and with it Tavis’s heart Tonight, the princess had no intention of outraging her father’s court.

“Whomever I choose, it will be for the good of the kingdom,” the princess said, taking his hand. “I hope you’ll support me in that decision.”

“I’ll always support you.” Tavis replied, trying to hide his disappointment and failing. “But I doubt an unhappy princess will be good for the kingdom.”

Tears welled in Brianna’s eyes. “Damn you,” she said. A sad smile crossed her lips, and she wiped her cheeks. “I was hoping you’d make this easy.”

“I can’t do that-yet,” Tavis said. The princess’s watery eyes gave him hope, for the scout saw in her tears what Brianna had not actually said: that no matter what name she spoke tonight, the one in her heart would be Tavis. “But it’s a long time between betrothal and marriage. A lot can happen.”

“What are you going to do?” Brianna demanded. “Have yourself reborn as an earl?”

“If that’s what it takes, yes,” the firbolg replied, smiling. “But until then, the best I can do is kill that glacier skunk so you can retrieve Blizzard.”

The scout turned to ask his mentor’s help in luring the beast into the open, but Runolf was nowhere in sight The sergeant had left without a word, vanishing from the courtyard as suddenly as he could disappear in the wilderness. It wasn’t like Runolf to leave so rudely, but Tavis took no offense. The sergeant may have sensed something alarming as Karl Dobbin left, and decided to follow, not bothering to excuse himself because he did not want to draw attention to his departure.

Tavis glanced back to Brianna. “Give me a moment before coming for Blizzard.” he said. “It wouldn’t do to have you sprayed today.”

The scout took a deep breath and went into the barn. The air remained close with foul-smelling vapors, but the stench had already begun to lose its potency. Blizzard was neighing angrily in her stall, whipping her head from side to side in an attempt to snap her reins free. Tavis advanced cautiously, watching rafters and mangers as well as the straw piled beneath the loft ladder. A glacier skunk, if that was truly what had hidden itself in his barn, was a cunning predator. It could down a bull elk-or a careless firbolg-as easily as a mountain lion could.

As Tavis approached to within ten paces of the ladder, something stirred beneath the straw pile. The scout pulled his bowstring back, then patiently waited for his prey to show itself before he loosed the shaft. A smaller hunter might have fired earlier, fearing that one arrow would not stop a vicious glacier skunk, but a single shaft fined from Bear Driller would stop a charging moose.

A pair of steely gray eyes peered from beneath the straw. “Is the earl gone?” whispered a familiar voice.

Tavis lowered his bow. “Avner!”

The boy crawled from the pile and brushed the straw off his body. Behind him came a wolf-sized skunk with white fur and a pair of black stripes running down its back. It had a cone-shaped head with round ears, a shiny black nose, and four curved fangs drooping beneath its lip. The beast’s claws were as long as a bear’s and as sharp as a lynx’s, while a needlelike barb protruded from the end of its furry tail. A red smear marked where its flank had been pierced by a guard’s spear.

“What’s happening here?” Tavis demanded.

Avner looked away. “You always say it’s important to help others.” He focused his gaze on the skunk. “Basil needed help.”

As the youth spoke, the skunk sat down. Before Tavis’s astonished eyes, it began to enlarge. The beast’s fur thinned into a curly mass of hair, while its bushy tail disappeared altogether. Its hind legs straightened out and became more manlike. The forelegs grew longer and more slender, the claws retracting to become fingers and the dewclaw spreading outward to become a thumb. Finally, the creature’s fangs receded, the snout narrowed into a long, crooked nose, and Tavis found himself looking at the hairy, naked form of a verbeeg.

The giant-kin rose and offered Tavis his hand. “I’m Basil of Lyndusfarne,” he said. “I’m happy to make your acquaintance.”

The verbeeg, with gangling arms, bowed legs, and huge feet as flat as a beaver’s tail, stood a full head taller than Tavis. He had a typical build for his race, looking gaunt and half starved, with a distended belly and stooped shoulders, A scrawny beard hung from his chin, while a thick-lipped mouth gave him an affable-and oddly sly-smile. His eyebrows were as gray as his beard and twice as thick, bestowing upon him a surprisingly sagacious aspect for one with such a steeply sloped forehead.

Tavis kept his arrow pointed at the intruder’s chest and made no move to take the proffered hand. He had met enough verbeegs to know their race deserved its devious reputation, and this one’s unusual eloquence only made the scout more suspicious.

When it became apparent Tavis would not lower his arrow, the verbeeg glanced down at his nakedness and blushed. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “How mindless of me.”

Basil reached into the straw heap and pulled out a tattered robe of untanned bearskin. The garment stank almost as much as the rancid vapors that had driven everyone out of the barn earlier, but that did not stop the verbeeg from draping it over his scrawny shoulders.

“I always forget to put my clothes back on after such changes,” he explained. “It’s rather a disorienting experience.”

“Are you some sort of werebeast?”

Basil shook his head. “Heavens no.” he replied. “I’m just a runecaster-quite harmless, I assure you.”

“Verbeegs don’t have wizards.”

“Watch,” Basil replied. He traced a symbol in the air, filling the area with flickers of golden light. The sparkles rose and circled the verbeeg’s head like a crown. “Now, which do you doubt-that I’m a verbeeg or a runecaster?”

“Neither. I guess,” Tavis said. “What are you doing here?”

Basil looked at the tip of the arrow still pointed at his chest. “Leaving soon, it appears,” he said. “But first, I have some business with your young friend.”

Avner’s face went pale. “We can forget about that,” he said. “I’m just glad to help.”

“Nonsense. An agreement is an agreement.” The verbeeg reached into the straw heap. “Thieves’ honor and all that.”

Tavis lowered his bow and looked at Avner. “What agreement?”

Avner’s only answer was a guilty look.

With a heavy groan, Basil pulled an enormous moose-skin sack from beneath the straw. “In return for hiding me, I promised Avner half the treasure I took from the lord mayor’s house,” the verbeeg explained. He turned the bag over and emptied an entire library of leather-bound books onto the barn’s grimy floor. “You choose first, Avner.”

“Books?” the youth shrieked. “I risked my life for ink and parchment?”

Basil’s bushy eyebrows came together in irritation. “My boy, knowledge is the greatest treasure.” The verbeeg stooped down and selected a book. “But since you have no conception of the riches before you, I’ll choose first’.’

From outside the barn, Brianna called, “Tavis? What’s happening in there?”

Tavis spun toward the barn door, which hung ajar so that he could not see into the courtyard. “Wait a moment!”

“Why?” Brianna demanded. Her voice sounded louder, as though she were approaching the barn. “Is something wrong?”

Tavis could not think of what to say. Like all firbolgs, it was nearly impossible for him to lie. He understood the concept well enough, but the strain of uttering false words affected his race more than any other giant-kin. If he said something untrue, his voice would crack, he would breakout, in a cold sweat, and his guilty conscience would not let him sleep for a tenday. Therefore, he did what most firbolgs did when they could not answer a question honestly: he did not reply.

Turning to Avner and Basil. Tavis whispered, “Into the loft with you, quick!”

Avner scrambled up in a flash, but Basil was too large to move quickly. He had to climb more slowly, gripping the side rails and taking great care to place each huge foot squarely on the narrow ladder treads. Cursing the verbeeg’s clumsiness. Tavis grabbed an armful of straw and threw it over the books.

“Tavis?” demanded Brianna. “Why don’t you answer?”

The innkeeper covered the last book, then looked up. Brianna and Morten stood at the door, squinting into the dim barn.

“Just a moment-“

Tavis was interrupted by the crack of a snapping board. A loud thud quickly followed, then Basil moaned in pain. The innkeeper wheeled around and saw the verbeeg sprawled on the floor, the loft ladder lying in pieces around him.

“How unfortunate,” Basil groaned. He pushed himself into a sitting position, then grabbed a shard of gray board. “I feared I was too heavy for the ladder.”

A pair of lumbering feet thundered across the barn floor as Morten rushed to Tavis’s side. The bodyguard touched the tip of his great sword to Basil’s throat and said nothing. Lady Brianna followed, though her steps fell silent before she reached the scout. Tavis turned around in time to see her pull a book from beneath the straw. She opened the cover to the title page.

“A Full History of the Dobbins of Stagwick, by Neville Dobbin, the thirty-fifth Earl of Stagwick,” she read.

Tavis took a single step toward her. “Let me explain.”

“You don’t have to,” Brianna replied. “I can see for myself what’s going on here.”

The princess drew her arm back and threw the book. It caught Tavis square in the forehead, breaking the binding and scattering leaves of parchment in every direction. The blow was incredibly powerful, much more forceful than the scout would have expected even for Brianna’s large frame, and he found himself stumbling backward, until at last he tripped over Basil’s feet and crashed down at the verbeeg’s side.

“Please, Brianna. I know this looks bad-“