23

The Ogre Lords

Where are we again?” Thux yelled from his seat in the empty brainpan of the titan.

Istoe, the imp who had been driving the mechanical man for the last week, rolled his large eyes and yelled back in the general direction of what he had lovingly come to refer to as “his cargo.” That Thux objected to being called “cargo” made Istoe all the more pleased with himself for thinking of it. “About ten steps farther than the last time you asked me!”

Istoe sat in a wicker seat suspended in the empty eye socket of the titan. It was not a very big one as titans go—Istoe had driven larger ones in his time—but it worked quite well and could be spared for “special duty.” Istoe made more than abundantly clear on several occasions during their trip that this “special duty” was a stupid waste of his time.

Thux sat just above and behind the driver in a large open space at the top of the titan’s head. This brainpan was his living space during the long trip. His hammock stretched from the inside of one ear of the titan to the other, providing him a place to sleep each night. There was even a couch back there to relax on and a table on which to eat the meals Istoe reluctantly hauled up from the titan’s stomach each morning and evening. As head boss he could also, of course, explore the other areas inside the titan in all their intricacies to his heart’s delight, and he did so on some evenings. Yet despite all these wonders, his favorite place remained his perch here at the top of the titan’s head.

The goblin Technomancers in the capital had cut off the top of the head of this particular titan, raised the skull plate a foot or two, and then forged it into place with supports. Thus, from where Thux sat, he was afforded a magnificent view of the distance in all directions but was afforded shade and protection from rain. If the sun beating down on the displaced metal skullcap had a tendency to be uncomfortably warm, at least there was enough ventilation.

Thux gazed out the top of the titan’s head and contemplated the horizon. He was having a little difficulty relating what he was looking at from his high perch atop the titan to the names and landmarks that constantly seemed to be shifting around him.

“When will we get there?” Thux asked, his voice sounding a little like a plea or maybe a prayer.

“About ten minutes sooner than the last time you asked,” Istoe snapped back.

“Look, I wouldn’t ask if I knew where we were,” Thux said with irritation.

“Look, we are really, really, really close,” Istoe said. “You see that mountain up ahead?”

“Which one—there are so many . . .”

“The big one—the one that’s white on top!”

“Oh, yes, I see it.”

“That’s nothing, forget about that one. Now, look over there just to the left of that big one. See the other one with the white top?”

“Why, yes! I do!”

“Well, that’s Mount Thurl on the west side of the Sunset Mountains. The Sunrise Mountains are behind us to the east, and this whole plateau is called Ogre Home. Just keep your eye on Mount Thurl.”

“Mount Thurl; got it. Is that where we’re going?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“No, we’re going toward it because the city is at the base of the mountains that are in front of that mountain,” Istoe said as he pulled and pushed levers on either side of his chair. “It’s a city of the ogres they call Cyderdel and now you know as much about it as I do. All we need to do is follow this river down the right-hand fork and we’ll get there.”

According to Mimic, Istoe was the most renowned explorer of the age—and Istoe himself would tell you so about as often as possible. Thux had not met an imp before, as they generally hailed from regions west beyond the Cynderlond, but he had heard plenty about them. Vanity was their most defining characteristic and they could as easily be recognized by their audacious costumes and jewelry as by their diminutive size. It was often said by the goblins that all imps weighed the same; the smaller the imp, the more heavily ornamented they were. The largest members of their species could reach as tall as three feet, but the vast majority made their way through life somewhere around two and a half feet in height. They were universally skinny and their quick minds matched the nimbleness of their hands. They were generally a mottled deep red in skin tone with large watery eyes and two small and entirely useless leathery wings protruding from their backs. Alarmed at first, Thux feared the imp might be the same creature he had met in his dreams, but the face was all wrong and the wings in the dream were long and luxurious compared to the stubby flaps sported by Istoe. Worse, however, was that all imps exude a terrible stench, which, for some reason, can only be smelled by goblins—much to Thux’s discomfort. It made him long all the more to arrive at their destination.

Even Thux could tell that the base of the mountains was getting closer, so he was beginning to feel relieved. The journey, which had started over a week ago, had been a circuitous and, in some ways, harrowing one. After getting over the shock that the titan was, in fact, waiting for him, he realized that his beloved Phylish was truly in danger so long as he was near her. So he climbed aboard the great mechanism with Istoe at the helm and hoped for the best. He did wonder just where he was going, and the why of it still nagged at the back of his brain from what he could recall of his dream. There was something in the city—this Cyderdel—that Mimic needed and, apparently, Thux needed as well. So he and Istoe had left the capital heading east for a day or so before turning south to traverse the wastelands of the Sou Wretch. When they reached the Dulcak River, they followed it to the west, and for several days the titan wandered tirelessly across the dreary plains. They followed the meandering course of the river until Nocturne Peak could be seen in the distance—southwest of them by the path of the sun overhead. Istoe then turned the titan at right angles to the sun and headed south, passing what the helmsman called the Dreadline between a range of low hills before entering some place Istoe referred to as the Nocturning Backlands. They headed straight south, ignoring an entire village of gremlins that attacked the titan in force. Istoe generally paid no attention to the assault and kept the mechanism walking, casually stepping on one or two by way of discouragement. They continued for two days toward Clawhorn Peak, crossing the River Karil and then turning west once more through what Istoe said was something called the Bloded Gap. It was at about this point that Thux was beginning to think the journey would never end. Then they came upon the River Chad, following it upstream to the south until they passed through a narrowing of the mountains into the Ogre Home itself.

“Well, Boss High Ambassador with Secret Agency,” Istoe said drolly. “Have you given any thought to how you’re going to approach these savages?”

“No. How did you approach them when you came here before?”

“I didn’t approach them,” Istoe said with a rueful smile. “I stood my titan outside the gates and was pelted by rocks, some of them large enough to dent my titan.”

“Well, what do you suggest?”

Istoe turned around in his chair to face the wizard. “My personal suggestion would be for us to camp out here for a few weeks, make up some fantastic story about where we had been, the incredible things we had seen, and the heroic deeds we had done—then return for a reward.”

Thux blinked, not understanding. “I thought you were the greatest explorer of our age?”

“Now you know how I became the greatest explorer of our age.”

“Well, we can’t do that,” Thux concluded, thinking of his poor Phylish’s life hanging by a rather frayed thread. “I’ve got to be a spy and that’s all there is to it.”

“Glad to hear it,” Istoe said, “since that makes my job a lot easier.”

“What is your job?”

“My job is to spy on the spy!” Istoe said through toothy, wide grin. “You spy on the ogres; I spy on you; everyone does their job and we all get paid.”

“So you’re spying for Mimic?”

“Hey, court intrigue is a tough business. Even a king like Mimic can’t be too careful.”

“I suppose that makes sense—but who spies on you?

“So, since we apparently are going to approach the ogre city,” Thux sighed, “do you have any other suggestions?”

“Well, I’m going to stop this monster about three miles from the city gates in a little ravine that’s out of sight; then you and I will walk up to the city gates . . .”

“And then?” Thux prompted.

“Then let’s hope you’re good at dodging rocks.”

Grand Emperor Uthank sat on the great marble throne in the great hall, his most glorious Empress Mook at his side.

To be completely accurate, they were not exactly thrones. They were actually large marble tables situated at the end of the hall. But since they appeared to be the right height for the ogres to sit on and were conveniently located in a very auspicious place, they had for many centuries been pressed into service as thrones.

The roof of the hall had collapsed and its remnants lay scattered across the floor where they had fallen. The eastern wall bulged slightly inward and, it was thought by many of the ogres who passed through the hall each day, would one day give way, possibly bringing down the entire structure with it. All agreed that it would be a sad day for the ogres when this happened, so everyone was especially careful when walking near that particular wall.

On either side of the hall, a large number of ogre men and maids stood swaying in anticipation. Most of the males of the species were twelve feet in height, with the women smaller by about a foot. All of them, regardless of gender, were massively strong and powerfully built, though their heads were elegantly small atop their great frames. Necks were a feature completely lost on ogrekind.

Emperor Uthank Oguk the Ninety-seventh wore the divine mantle of his office, a long velvet curtain that had been taken up by the first Uthank centuries before. Threadbare now, it was nevertheless revered by all the ogres of Og, and nowhere more so than here in the walled city-state of Cyderdel. Though his head was bare, at his right hand sat a massive helmet with but a single dent in it, the symbol of his office. Around his waist he wore the traditional ogre man’s leather warrior’s kilt.

Empress Mook Oguk-Gruk was no less impressive in her own long velvet curtain, which was draped around her shoulders. Her tresses began halfway back on her head, falling in long curling tendrils behind her. Her left hand gently rested on a black-granite globe, nearly encompassing its foot-wide diameter. Her dress was of the whitest cloth bartered from foreign lands. She was the only woman in white; all the other females were similarly clad but in various colors.

While Uthank and his wife watched, at the opposite end of the hall the great stained doors were carefully pushed open by two massive hands. An ogre wearing bronze armor that was demonstrably too small for his chest bent over nearly double in order to enter the hall through the main door. He stood slowly as he entered, the pattern on his kilt markedly different from that of the common ogres standing around the periphery of the hall.

“Emperor Oguk!” he called in his resounding bass.

“Guardian Oof! What news?”

“Two emissaries at gates. They want present themselves before you.”

A low murmur passed among the assembled ogres in the hall.

Oguk’s deep-set eyes narrowed as he thought. “Bring before us and we hear them!”

Oof bowed once more, and then gestured forward with his great open hand.

A tiny green figure walked hesitantly into the hall shaking so badly that the tips of his ears seemed ready to beat against his own tall tuft of white hair. Next to him, a shorter, slighter figure was dressed in an ornate vest glittering with metals that jingled as he walked. Both of their heads, to the ogre eye, were absurdly large.

“You goblin of the north,” Oguk rumbled sagely. “And come with faithful servant imp.”

Empress Mook raised a great, bushy eyebrow as another murmur, much louder this time, rolled through the crowd.

The shivering goblin, its hands clasped nervously to its chest, staggered forward at the insistent urging of Oof’s powerful hand.

“What you name?” Emperor Oguk demanded.

The small figure blurted out, “Thux!”

The ogre emperor frowned. “What he say?”

“I think him call you bad name, Great Emperor!” Mook said with astonishment. “It sound like dirty word!”

“Your Greatness—Your Majesties—my name is Thux, the—uh—the Wizard of Jilik,” the goblin stammered. “I am also the Ambassador with Secret Agency from Dong Mahaj Mimic from a land far to the north.”

“And I am Istoe,” the imp chimed in.

“You also a wizard, Istoe?”

“Well, sure!” the imp responded.

“Wizard Thux and Wizard Istoe, in name of the Og,” the Emperor intoned, “we welcome you.”

“We are also spies!” Istoe chimed in cheerfully.

“Spies?” Oguk repeated, his huge head leaning over them, drawing nearer as his eyes inspected them closer.

“Why did you tell him that?” Thux snapped at the imp.

“Well, we are spies, aren’t we?” Istoe blinked in annoyance.

“Of course we are,” Thux said angrily. “But we’re not supposed to tell them that! They’re supposed to figure it out for themselves; that’s how spying works.”

“Oh.” Istoe nodded sagely. “I’ll try to remember that next time.”

“So you spies?” Oguk demanded.

“No, Your Greatness,” Thux said quickly. “I mean—listen, yes, I was sent here to spy on you. As soon as I report back what I’ve learned, I think our king is going to send his army of giant titans down here to attack your city! But if you’ll help me, I think—”

“Ambassador Wizards,” Oguk said as he stood up, showing himself to be a full three times the height of the goblin quaking in front of him. “You have come as spy?”

“They made me do it, sire, but I assure you that if you’ll just listen to me, work with me, I’ll—”

“A spy for invading army?” Oguk intoned solemnly.

“Well, yes! That’s why, if we can work out a deal—”

“Master Wizard-Spy.” Oguk smiled. “That wonderful news!”

Thux blinked up at the ogre lord towering in front of him. “Excuse me—perhaps I didn’t make myself clear—”

“All Og be glad giving,” Oguk said, his face looking proudly over the assembled ogre crowd, “that in our lifetime we fulfill orders of ancients! This great news, Master Wizard-Spy! Your coming, indeed, welcome!”

“See, I told you.” Istoe socked Thux happily in the arm. “These ogres aren’t bad once you get to know them.”

“We hope you will have pleasant time spying on Og,” Empress Mook said graciously from her table-seat. “Ask us anything and we do all to make worthwhile.”

“But you don’t . . .” Thux’s voice sputtered to a halt. “I just don’t think you understand . . .”