Читать книгу A Meddle of Wizards - Alexandra Rushe - Страница 15

Chapter 7

An Encounter with Ograks

As the morning progressed, Raine’s nausea grew worse, and by the time they stopped for lunch and to stretch their legs, she was too dizzy and sick to eat. To add to her misery, she ached all over, she was pretty sure she had a fever, and her head hurt like the dickens. This was it, her swan song. She was going to die in the middle of this screwed up fairy tale. If she weren’t so miserable, she’d be ticked.

The giant lowered his weight onto a rock that rested against the foot of a hill and Mauric leapt to the ground.

“Tro.” He grimaced and rubbed his belly. “That was even worse than I remember.”

Raine took her time dismounting. Her legs were soft and squishy as marshmallows. She reached the ground and looked about with disinterest, too sick to care. They’d halted in a rocky gorge deep in the mountains.

“Sorry if the ride be a bit bumpy,” Tiny rumbled. Removing a gigantic water flask and an enormous leather bag from his belt, the giant proceeded to make a huge sandwich of cheese and bread. “It be the extra weight, I ’spect.”

He tore off a hunk of sandwich with teeth like boulders and chewed.

“Best eat while you can.” He flapped the sandwich at Mauric, and a partly masticated chunk of dried meat the size of a small suitcase flew out and slammed into a tree. “Won’t stop again till dark.” With his free hand, he unhitched a saddlebag and tossed it to the warrior. “We’ll rest here a spell. I be tuckered.”

Leaning his weight against the slope behind him, the giant quickly went to sleep with the half-eaten sandwich in his lap.

Raine sank to the ground beneath a scraggly maple. “How far have we come?”

More importantly, how much farther did they have to go? She felt three kinds of awful, queasy and shivery. Strange shapes flickered at the edge of her vision. Wonderful. Her headache was turning into a migraine.

“Maybe fifteen leagues.” Mauric joined her and held out what looked like a piece of shoe leather. “Deer jerky?”

Raine shuddered. “No, thanks.”

He shrugged and shoved the turd-like substance into his mouth, and chewed. The contents of Raine’s stomach sloshed against the back of her throat.

“Say, you don’t look so good.” Mauric peered at her. “You all right?”

Raine staggered to her feet. Her stomach was cramping. She was going to hurl—on Mauric’s boots if she didn’t move and fast.

“G-going for a walk,” she said.

Clapping her hand over her mouth, she staggered behind an outcropping of stone, fell to her knees, and was heartily sick.

“You can’t go traipsing off like that,” Mauric said reproachfully from behind her. “These hills are dangerous.”

Raine wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and motioned him away with a weak wave. “Leave me alone, for God’s sake.”

“Poor lass. Let me help you.”

Ignoring her protests, Mauric picked her up and carried her to a low boulder. Setting her down, he fetched a cloth from one of the packs, dampened it with water from the canteen, and pressed the compress to the back of her neck.

“Maybe this will help,” he said. “As I remember, it made me feel better when I was . . . you know.”

“Sick?” Raine’s teeth chattered. “You can say it. It’s only a word.”

“Aye, but I prefer not to. It’s not an easy thing for a Finlar to admit.” Mauric hunkered down next to her, his blue eyes shadowed with worry. “When Gertie returns, she’ll soon set you to rights. In the meantime, what else can I do?”

There was a ripple of panic in his deep voice. Poor Mauric. He was genuinely out of his element and rattled.

“Put me out of my misery?” she said, only half joking.

“And leave me to ride that giant alone? Not a chance. Misery loves company. Which reminds me . . .”

Rising, Mauric stalked over to the sleeping titan and kicked him in the shin.

“Ow.” Tiny sat up, rubbing his leg. “Whud you do that fer?”

“The girl’s not well.” Mauric pointed to the heavy, gray clouds sulking over the mountains. “And it looks like snow. Scout around and find shelter for us—a cave would do nicely.”

“She be sick?” Tiny’s mouth trembled. “It be my fault, don’t it?” His face crumpled. “Aw, the poor little thing.”

“Tro, are you crying?”

Tiny wiped his eyes on the edge of his kilt. “You think jes ’cause I be big I don’t has feelings? Well, you be wrong. Giants be sensitive, don’t you know.”

“I’d give you a hanky, but I’m fresh out of vests.”

“You would?” Tiny’s huge eyes widened. “And you being the Rowan’s nephew and all?”

“You know about that, do you? Who’s been yapping?”

“Gertie tole me.” The giant’s chin quivered. “Thankee fer the offer of the hanky. That be right kindly of you, warrior.”

“I’m a regular sweetheart. Ask anybody. Ask Gertie. Oh, wait, you can’t because she’s not here.” Mauric picked up a rock and threw it. “Do you suppose it would bruise your tender feelings too terribly to look for that cave now?”

“Reckon not.” Tiny lumbered to his feet and indicated a clump of peaks in the distance. “If you needs me, I be over there.”

The giant’s outline shimmered. With a single disjointed step, he left the rocky gorge and reappeared a mile away on the side of the next mountain. Another step and he disappeared altogether.

Mauric returned to Raine. “How are you doing?”

Raine’s teeth rattled. “F-freezing.”

“The giant has gone to find us a place to spend the night.” Mauric shifted his weight and looked down at her, his expression anxious. “Maybe a little watered wine will do the trick.”

A shudder racked her body. “No. God, no.”

“You’re right, of course. Stupid of me to ask. Wine would only make it worse.” He gave an anemic tuft of grass a vicious kick. “Damn Gertie and Bree for leaving. Horses I know. Fighting I know, but I’m no healer.”

Raine gazed at him through bleary eyes. She was sick, but Mauric was the one coming undone.

“Maybe I’ll try a little watered wine after all,” she said, taking pity on him.

His face brightened. “You will? Good, good.” He reached for the leather pack and stiffened. “Uh-oh. Here’s trouble.”

He didn’t sound worried, Raine noticed. He sounded eager. Had the wizards returned? She followed the direction of Mauric’s gaze and gasped. Three ugly shapes had entered the little valley. Squat and muscular with greenish-gray, leathery skin, the creatures shambled toward them. Their long arms trailed the ground and the spiked clubs they carried in their clawed hands dug ruts in the rocky soil. Drooling mouths hung open, exposing jagged teeth. Ragged holes in their skulls served as ears. Their dull, black eyes were unevenly placed, giving them the lopsided look of a melted troll. Filthy skins hung from their waists, makeshift coverings that made Tiny’s hide clothes seem couture. Raine took a closer look and shuddered. The skins looked human.

She made a grab for Mauric’s arm. “W-what are those things?”

“Goggins. Magog made them.” Mauric picked her up off the boulder and settled her in his arms as if she weighed nothing. “These hills are swarming with them—one reason I didn’t want you wandering off. They keep the Shads in, and the rest of us out. These particular grotties are called ograks. They’re stupid, mean, and always on the lookout for their next meal.”

The largest of the ograks, an ugly brute with a wide scar down the middle of his face, lurched closer with a hideous growl.

“Are they dangerous?” she asked in rising alarm.

“One ograk is easy. Two, merely annoying. But three?” Mauric grinned. “Three should be diverting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Raine demanded. “Surely you’re not thinking of—”

She was interrupted by a reptilian hiss.

“There be three of us and one of you, man-thing.” Scar Face slammed his cudgel into the ground. “We be hungry. Give us the she-thing and maybe we lets you go.”

The smallest ograk bared his teeth, exposing a set of broken choppers. “I says we keeps ’em both.”

“Shut yer gob.” Scar Face swung his club at Snaggle Tooth. “Nobody asked you.”

Snaggle Tooth yelped and ducked.

“I knows her.” The third ograk peered at Raine. He was a squatty creature with a black patch over one eye. “She be the she-thing on them coins.”

Scar Face scowled. “What coins?”

“The ones we got off them Shads.”

“Lummox,” Scar Face said with a growl. “That be Hara, Magog’s High Priestess. This scrawny morsel o’ meat ain’t Hara.”

“Maybe not, but they favors,” Black Patch insisted stubbornly. “Cast yer peepers at ’er again. You’ll see.”

With an effort, Scar Face focused his mismatched eyes on Raine. The ograk shifted his flat feet with a grunt of surprise. “You be right. She do favor Hara a bit.”

“What of it?” Snaggle Tooth edged closer. “She be sumpin to munch on.”

Scar Face swung at him again. This time the club connected. “I said shut it, you.”

Snaggle Tooth grabbed his arm and howled in pain.

Black Patch turned on Scar Face with a snarl. “Leave ’im alone, Skrell. Yer allus pickin’ on Krog.”

Skrell hissed in fury and leapt at Black Patch. The ograks rolled to the ground, clawing and biting one another. Snaggle Tooth danced around them. With a howl of frustration, he flung himself into the fight. The noise was deafening.

“Excellent.” Mauric’s deep voice hummed with satisfaction. “Ograks are nothing if not predictable.” Turning, he strode over to a tall pine and tossed Raine onto the lowest branch.

She swayed and grabbed the trunk of the tree for support. “What are you doing?”

“Something I’m good at, by Tro.” Mauric showed his teeth. “If they kill me, throw yourself out of the tree and hope you break your neck. You don’t want to be alive when they start to eat you.”

“What? That’s a horrible thing to say. Don’t you—”

Mauric drew his sword and trotted toward the ograks.

“Mauric, get back here. Mauric? Mauric.”

Of all the jackass, lame brained, macho, asinine . . . Fuming, Raine wedged herself between two branches and waited.

Skrell got on top of Black Patch and punched him in the nose. “Stupid lump, if you be right, the she-thing be valuable.”

Snaggle Tooth wheezed and got to his feet. He’d lost another tooth, and his face was bloodied from the scuffle. “I don’t cares what you says, Skrell. I wants to eat now.”

Skrell punched Black Patch again for good measure and huffed to his feet. “Always thinking wiv yer stomach, Krog. We takes her to Glonoff and gets much meat. Then we stuffs ourselves until we bloat.”

Mauric swaggered up to them. “From the smell of your filthy carcasses, I’d say you’d moved past bloat and gone straight to rot.”

The ograks gaped at him.

“Hello?” Mauric waved his sword at them. “Have the squirrels made a nest between your ears? I said you stink.”

The goggins forgot their quarrel and charged Mauric. He stood his ground, balancing on the balls of his feet. Raine held her breath, horrified at his stupidity, but unable to look away. The big idiot was going to get himself killed. Then what was she supposed to do?

To her relief, Mauric threw himself forward at the last second and rolled between the stampeding ograks. He rose to his feet in a fluid motion and slashed the back of Snaggle Tooth’s thighs. The ograk bawled and went to his knees. Mauric’s blade flashed again. A ludicrous expression of surprise crossed the goggin’s deformed face. With a meaty thud, Snaggle Tooth’s body toppled to the ground and his misshapen head rolled away.

Skrell and Black Patch skidded to a halt, staring at their dead companion in brutish incomprehension.

“One gut bag down, two to go,” Mauric sang.

The ograks howled and renewed the attack. Mauric drew a knife from his boot and threw it. The weapon spun end over end and sank deep into Black Patch’s good eye. The goggin stiffened. Black blood spurted from the wound, and the ograk crumpled to the ground.

“Two down, one to go.” The warrior tossed his sword from hand to hand, taunting Skrell. “Your turn, Pus Mug. Come and get it.”

Under different circumstances, the panicked look on the remaining ograk’s face might have been comical. Skrell dropped his club and sprinted for the distant tree line. As he neared the shelter of the woods, the air in front of him shimmered, and a large, sandaled foot appeared. The ograk disappeared beneath it.

Tiny Bart materialized. With a loud pop and a wet squishing sound, the giant crushed the ograk beneath his shoe like a bug. He stomped over to a rock and scraped the gog goo off the bottom of his sandal.

“No fair,” Mauric said, frowning. “That was my ograk.”

“Were it, now? ‘Pears to me he be getting away.”

“I was giving him a head start.”

Raine stared at the jellied remains of the ograk. The bloodied pulp resembled so much road kill. Mauric’s and Tiny’s voices sounded tinny and far away over the roaring in her ears.

“Thought you said the lass be peaked,” Tiny said. “What she be doing climbing a tree?”

“She didn’t climb,” Mauric said. “I put her there.”

“So’s you could have yer sport with them goggins?”

“Aye.”

“And a fine job you made of it, too. Shame on me fer spoiling yer fun.”

“No harm done.”

“Hmm.” Tiny cut his eyes at Raine, then back at Mauric. “Me mam allus says what goes up be a-coming down. You ever hears that one?”

“Sure. That’s an old chestnut. What’s it got to do with anything?”

“Nothing, ’cepting the lass be about to fall.”

“What?” Mauric whirled to face Raine.

“Sharp as a whistle, me mam.” Tiny beamed. “Best hurry if you wants to catch her.”

“Hold on, Raine. I’m coming.” Sword in hand, Mauric broke into a run.

The blood dripping from his weapon was black and viscous, like the mush Tiny had cleaned off his sandal. Raine’s head felt curiously light, as if it might detach and float away. Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts. The childhood jingle played inside her head. Mauric was closer now, she observed through a fog. A few more strides and he would reach her.

Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts. Great green gobs of—

The rocky ground rippled and swelled, rising to meet her.

“Tro,” she heard Mauric say as she toppled out of the tree.