Chapter Eighteen

Erika felt of a mind to let Magnor chase after the ogre by himself but stuck by her wifely duty to accompany him. So it was they left the theme park to wait for nightfall in the safety of their hotel room.

Magnor nixed her idea to explore further, concerned the Trolleks might try to grab them. He believed they were being left alone so as to reveal their mission. But if Algie had already gotten wind of their target, she might become impatient. He didn’t care to risk exposure until it became necessary.

They spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying each other’s company and ordered room service for dinner. By nightfall, Magnor was ready for action, dressed once more in his uniform.

Public transportation brought them to the outskirts of the forbidden woods known as Giant’s Glen. For ages, the forest was said to be inhabited by a monster. People who ventured inside the dense thickets were never seen again.

“What exactly is an ogre?” She admired the handsome figure Magnor made in the moonlight, his cape billowing behind him and his hand on his sword hilt. He looked every inch the warrior with the proud tilt of his head and his erect posture.

A warm tingle spread through her as she remembered the tender gleam in his eyes back at their hotel room, the soft words he’d murmured in her ear, and the passion he’d stirred in her heart. If she weren’t careful, she’d grow dependent on his presence, and then it would hurt all the more when he left.

His eyes flashed with that otherworldly glow. “From what I’ve heard, an ogre is a mean and hideous monster, larger than a man but not as big as their cousins, the giants.”

“Giants?” She raised an eyebrow. “You speak as though they’re real.”

“Ask Nira Larsen to tell you the Norse creation myth when you meet her. She will explain how two races evolved from the void, the giants and the gods, and how they always battled.”

“O-kay. It’s likely there’s something menacing in these woods, but that could mean any type of animal. Don’t you think I should have a weapon, too?”

She’d been amazed he hadn’t insisted on going alone and leaving her behind for safety. Instead, he had seemed to welcome her company. This was a surprising change for the man. Perhaps he was coming to accept her in his life.

“You’re right. Tuck this knife into your belt, but be aware its use requires close combat. Hold the blade this way when you make a thrust.” He showed her what he meant and then gave her the knife while describing the best places to jab someone.

“Can’t we sneak through the forest using your invisibility shield? We can find the monster that way.”

He located the head of a path leading into the interior. “It will smell us. I’d rather not waste the energy.” His eyes took on a faint luminosity as though he could see in the dark.

They started on the path, the cooler air making her grateful she’d changed clothes earlier. She wore a pair of black jeans, a long-sleeved top, and a pullover sweater. Magnor had donned his uniform that must have insulating properties as well as deflective armor against light projectile weapons.

The forest seemed to breathe on its own as she listened to the crunch of their footsteps on dead leaves, to the crickets singing their nightly chorus, and to the occasional howl of a wild beast.

Never mind ogres and giants. She was afraid enough of normal predators. Her hand gripped the flashlight she’d brought, which she panned back and forth across the trail.

An earthy aroma brought home the smells of fresh clay and fire-kilned pottery from her studio. A sense of calm descended over her as though she’d entered her natural habitat. And perhaps she had. Whatever special power she possessed seemed related to the earth.

“Careful,” Magnor said as he dodged a large root ahead.

Fallen tree stumps, rocks, and dead branches obstructed their progress as they edged deeper into the preserve. Leaves rustled off to their right, and the hairs on her nape elevated. Could Loki, that shapeshifting evil spirit, be following them even now?

He wasn’t really a spirit, she reminded herself. Not quite a god and yet living in their realm, he’d been banished to an underground prison. Like Lord Voldemort of Harry Potter fame, he attempted to recover his full form. In the process, he intended to destroy the multiverse.

But he wouldn’t have the Trolleks as allies if she and Magnor had any say in the matter. As soon as they found and deployed whatever weapon was mentioned in the fabled Book of Odin, the sooner she could go home.

Maybe she could use this quiet interlude to tell Magnor about her need to stay married for a year.

“Uh, husband, there’s something we need to discuss.”

He halted abruptly and raised a hand. “Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“The sound of branches snapping.”

Damn, every time she went to tell him, they got interrupted.

“Magnor, you need to teach me how to defend myself,” she found herself saying instead of what she’d meant to confess. Erika didn’t want to destroy his budding feelings for her, emotions he wouldn’t admit to having but that she saw in his eyes and in the way he no longer tried to avoid her company.

He gave her a surprised glance. “You wish to learn the ways of a warrior?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I could benefit from some self-defense training.”

“I will be happy to oblige.” The cracking noise grew louder. He unsheathed his sword, creeping forward at a steady pace.

She shut off her flashlight as a precaution. Peering into the gloom, she couldn’t discern any threats but still her nerves prickled with unease.

At first the shadowy form blocked a clump of trees from view. But as the creature lumbered into a shaft of moonlight, she gasped at its size. Its big head, mane of unkempt black hair, and distorted features told her this must be the ogre. He wore animal furs around his muscled torso and carried a log club. Fangs gleamed when he opened his mouth to emit a howl.

Erika’s throat went dry. Any hope of reasoning with this being fled when he raised his arm and swung the club at them.

Magnor shoved her aside. As she fumbled to recover her balance, he leapt out of the ogre’s path barely in time to avoid the blow. He whirled around, his dark green cape flapping behind him, and thrust upward with his blade. The steel gleamed in the moonlight filtering through the trees.

The ogre swatted Magnor away as though he were a fly. He crashed into a cluster of bushes but quickly regained his feet. Sword in hand, he approached the beast, his wary glance gauging its abilities.

How could they fight this thing?

We don’t need to defeat it, she reminded herself. We only need to collect a vial of its sweat. She’d brought a small jar along for that purpose.

Her lapse in attentiveness cost a price when the beast’s large fingers flicked her into a tree trunk. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. Stunned, she slid to the ground.

“Come here, you liver-bellied son of a snipeling.” Magnor waved his arms and danced in front of the creature. “Leave her alone.”

Erika sucked air into her chest and scrambled around to the other side of the thick trunk. Her boot dug into a pile of dead leaves, exposing something white in the moon’s gleam. Glancing down, she squinted at the strange object. Was that a bone sticking out?

She kicked the debris away and shivered with revulsion. One of the ogre’s conquests, perhaps? The bone looked human but could have belonged to some unfortunate animal.

The beast snarled at Magnor, who dodged another swing of its club and thrust his sword into the monster’s side. Roaring with rage, the ogre lifted him in the air. Magnor wriggled but was trapped in the beast’s grip.

“No!” Erika flung herself forward, yanking the dagger from her belt.

She rushed across the expanse, heedless to the danger. Her only intent was to distract the ogre from hurting her husband.

Her knife pierced its tough skin at the Achilles tendon. The beast threw its head back and roared, the sound reverberating throughout the woods and dropping leaves from trees. The ogre’s grasp must have loosened, because Magnor writhed free and tumbled to the ground. He rolled sideways, yanked his sword from the beast’s flesh, and sprang to his feet.

Erika backed away as the creature swung toward her.

“Balhogg is your name, isn’t it?” she remembered suddenly. “I’ll bet it gets lonely in these woods.”

The beast paused, tilting its head to regard her, its eyes puzzled. Could it possibly understand her words?

“Look, we didn’t come here to harm you. We need your help.”

“Erika, are you insane?” Magnor gestured to her. “Get out of the way and let me do my job.”

“Please,” she told the creature, while ignoring Magnor’s command, “listen to me. A big war is coming that will involve everyone, even you. Put down your club and let’s talk about it.”

“Arrrrrgh.” It thwacked her on the shoulder.

Flung backwards, she landed on a bed of leaves. The soft ground cushioned her fall, but the force of it knocked the wind from her. She curled on her side and gasped for air.

Issuing a battle cry, Magnor charged the beast before it could approach her again.

His sword plunged into the ogre’s spine.

The beast stopped, his eyes widening, and then he whirled.

“Magnor, watch out!” Erika, having regained her breath, dragged to her feet.

With the sword stuck in his back, the ogre stomped toward Magnor. Unfortunately, it didn’t appear as though the wound had damaged anything vital. The beast’s innards must be as tough as his hide.

A ray of moonlight gleamed off a gold medallion Balhogg wore that Erika hadn’t noticed before. The beast swiped at Magnor, who dived across the ground and bounced up again.

Her heart galloped as the beast sped forward and forced Magnor against a tree. With no weapon handy, he assumed a fighting stance.

Balhogg reached down with both hands and grabbed Magnor by the shoulders. Magnor punched him, but his blow had no effect. The ogre bonked him against the nearest tree, repeating the action until Magnor’s head lolled and blood rolled down his face.

Erika’s heart slammed against her ribs. Dread coursed through her veins, especially when the beast tossed Magnor aside like a piece of laundry. He fell to the ground, motionless.

Balhogg roared his triumph. He clomped over, licking his lips at the prospect of a tasty meal.

How could she distract him?

Her gaze fell upon a nearby rock. Remembering David and Goliath, she picked it up. If only she had a slingshot of some sort, but her aim would have to do.

“Hey, Balhogg, over here.” She pranced into view, keeping her hand hidden.

The beast stiffened, spun around, and flashed angry eyes at her. Its snarl revealed fangs dripping with drool.

Then Balhogg stormed in her direction, his heavy footsteps shaking the ground.

Erika tensed her muscles, drew back her arm, and threw the rock with all the force she could muster.

Her makeshift weapon smashed into the beast’s nose. He stopped, holding a hand up to the injury. His fingers came away bloody. For a moment, he peered at the blood as though wondering at its source. Then his lips curled back as he refocused his attention on Erika.

Damn, she’d missed her target between his eyes. All that move had done was to enrage the ogre. His tall form blocking the trees, Balhogg beat his fists against his chest and roared. Leaves cascaded to the ground.

The dirt under her boots shifted and moved. Was it another quake? No region of earth was immune from the disturbances.

She backed against a tree, glancing at its low branch. Could she scamper up there in time to avoid the ogre’s wrath? Probably not, and anyway, he could knock her out of the tree with brute force.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as Balhogg advanced toward her.

So this was it. They were to be slain by a beast in the middle of the woods of a foreign land. And without the weapon to defeat the Trolleks, the Drift Lords would fail to save Earth.

There had to be something she could do.

A gust of wind swept by, stirring the soil and lifting debris from the ground.

Wait a minute. She could affect the outcome.

In her mind’s eye, she envisioned that swirl of soil growing larger. It writhed and twisted, picking up more dirt and zigzagging across the turf in real time. Twigs and other debris swirled into a growing cloud.

Balhogg hadn’t noticed. He stopped in front of her and raised his arm holding the club.

Erika cringed, covering her face with her hands.

For a few moments, all she heard was heavy breathing and angry, choked grunts.

Peeking past her fingers, she noticed particles of soil flying around the beast’s head, obscuring his vision. With a growl of frustration, he flailed his arms attempting to clear the air, but grit bombarded his eyes and thick skin.

A series of thumps followed, then a crash and a ground tremor. Something hit her foot. She jerked her leg away even as the cloud of dirt dissipated.

The ogre lay dead on the ground, Magnor’s sword buried in the top of its head.

Magnor, atop the beast, withdrew his weapon and wiped it clean on the ogre’s furs. Then he jumped to the ground and sheathed his sword.

“Magnor, I thought you were a goner.” She rushed forward to embrace him.

“Gone where?” Comprehension dawned. “Oh, I was faking it.” His arms opened to welcome her, and she buried her face in his broad chest. “I was merely stunned. You distracted the beast long enough for me to gain the advantage.”

Setting her aside, he gave her a speculative glance. “Interesting how the wind picked up and caused that flurry of debris. It made the ogre pause at just the right time.”

Her cheeks heated. “Yes, I noticed. Strange, wasn’t it?” She pointed to the body. “Are you sure it’s dead?”

“I’d better make certain.” His eyes narrowed, as though he knew she’d distracted him on purpose. Nonetheless, he strode over and felt for a pulse. “He’ll threaten no more wanderers in these woods. Hand me that jar you brought. We’ll collect our specimen and leave this cursed place.”

He unwound the medallion from the ogre’s neck, looped it around his own as a prize of war, and then stripped away the monster’s coverings to gather the precious drops they needed.

“Let me see your injury,” she said after he’d collected the sample. Trails of dried blood and grime soiled his face.

He brushed away her fingers when she probed a sensitive area under his hair. “We can assess the damage later.” Gesturing for her to follow, he headed for the forest’s edge.

“Are we going directly back to the theme park?” She pushed a hanging vine from her path as she kept pace.

“Not yet. The dragon will be working the water wheel. We’ll have to wait until morning. We should rest in the meantime.” He gave her a weary but fond smile that made her heart somersault.

Inside their hotel room, Magnor erected his perimeter defense while she dove into the shower. The hot water streamed down her slick skin. Her body ached in places she hadn’t known could hurt. Bruises would soon become apparent, but they would heal. Magnor was the one who concerned her.

She wrapped herself in a towel and then padded into the bedroom. Magnor sat at the desk, his eyes half-closed.

“Are you all right?” She tapped his shoulder, relieved when he lifted his gaze in response.

“My head hurts, but I’ve had worse. You?”

“These scratches will disappear in a few days. Let me see your wound. The ogre smashed you pretty hard against that tree.”

He waved his hand in dismissal and stood. “It’s nothing. I’ll get cleaned up. You should sleep.”

“Don’t be stubborn. You were very heroic today, but heroes need to learn when to accept help.” She didn’t wait for a reply and began lifting his shirt over his head.

Her breath stole from her upon the sight of his bare chest. She couldn’t keep herself from splaying her fingers across his skin. Warmth spread up her arm and into her body.

“Great Cosmos, wife, you tempt me beyond reason.” He stepped back. “At least let me get washed first.”

“In a minute.” She caressed his shoulders, admiring their breadth and enjoying the sensation. Her hands roamed to his upper arms where she explored the contours of his muscles.

Standing on her toes, she pressed her mouth to his in a hungry kiss. “Go take your shower, but be careful of your head wound, or it’ll bleed again.”

By the time he rejoined her, she’d donned a nightshirt and had rummaged through her purchases for first aid supplies.

“I have a nasty gash,” he admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed where she’d directed him. “Too bad we don’t have a tissue regenerator. I lost the one Edith gave me.”

He’d done a decent job of washing his hair and cleaning away the excess blood, but the wound remained exposed. After fastening a nude colored bandage over it, she stood back to survey her handiwork.

“Your hair covers most of it. I hope that’s the extent of your injury.”

“You worry too much. And while your concern is appreciated, I’ll be fine.” Magnor grasped her by the waist and pulled her close. “In fact, I can show you how fit I am if you wish.”

She raised her face toward him. “Oh yes, husband. Please do.”