Borte, relieved to discover that not all of western Gal’azu was badlands or unending moors, took pleasure in the raw beauty of this part of the world. More than once, Grim noticed the princess and Assata talking quietly together, comparing the way of life here with Kuthenia. At some point, he didn’t know when, their mutual animosity had faded away and now their relationship appeared quite different. Someone had armed Borte with a short spear. Grim had no idea if she knew how to use it, but it seemed that as each day passed, she was becoming more an adventurer, and less a princess.
In this company, Og and Dog didn’t have to hide their heads in sacks, nor did they have to use Raya’s amulet. If the human travellers on the roads didn’t like the look of a three-headed ogre travelling with such an unusual collection of individuals, they were at least wise enough to keep their opinions to themselves. Raya herself, meanwhile, scouted ahead and all around, in case more hostile eyes watched them. But orcs and goblins tended not to interfere with ogres, and trolls rarely gathered in numbers large enough for them to challenge a group such as theirs. So it was that their destination appeared on the horizon at the end of a trouble-free journey.
‘We’re banned from Mer Khazer,’ Og reminded everyone. ‘They won’t let us in.’
‘I had to give up my position as reeve to go adventuring to Fell Towers,’ Hassletoff explained as they reached the town gates. ‘I just have to hope that there’s a friendly face on duty today.’
The Director
I really shouldn’t be letting you in,’ said the young man, in a tone that suggested he was already half inclined to do just that.
‘We’ve important business to deal with, Oliver,’ Hassletoff said. ‘I wouldn’t ask you to bend the rules otherwise. Would I?’
Oliver answered the question by waving them all through into the town. The halfling patted the young man on the back. ‘You’ve done the right thing.’
‘We don’t want to waste time or alert Barclay to our arrival,’ said Gurin as they marched down the main street towards the centre of town. ‘Where’s he likely to be? The Bureau?’
‘No,’ said Hassletoff. ‘His townhouse. It’s well guarded. And let’s not forget that Barclay is a powerful sorcerer. We’ll need some sort of plan to deal with him.’
Grim had to admit, it felt good to be preparing for battle. Their time at Fell Towers had ended in retreat, and he felt as if they had unfinished business. Bones that needed to be broken; blood that needed to be spilled.
‘I think they’ve had enough time,’ Gurin murmured next to him, ‘for it to have worked, or not.’
They had decided to send Hassletoff and Sandon into the house ahead of them, on the pretext of needing to talk with Barclay about what they had found at Fell Towers. They assumed that he would be eager to hear news of how things went with his secret allies. The danger: that he already knew and was able, through his magic, to communicate with Lilith and Samael.
‘Agreed,’ said Assata on Grim’s other side.
‘Agreed,’ said Og and Dog.
Grim stepped out of their hidden position and began marching towards the front door of Barclay’s house, where two heavily armoured warriors stood on watch. Gurin and Assata followed behind and the warriors were already shouting out a warning.
Grim picked up the pace, as the door to the house swung open and more warriors surged out. Og hefted his pike and Dog let out a great bark of exultation. Barclay’s elite warriors, their expensive armour polished to a shine, their weapons sharpened to a razor’s edge, their heads encased in metal helms, showed no hesitation at the sight of an ogre coming for them. Instead they came to meet the threat, confident in their ability, shields ready to take the first blow from Og’s pike.
Then the nearest of them went down, as a well-aimed missile whistled through the thin slit of his helmet, striking one of the few unprotected parts of his body.
The warrior next to him didn’t let that put him off, and his shield met Og’s strike, the weight of his armour helping him to absorb the blow. Then more blows could be heard, as Gurin wielded his axe, and Assata her sword.
Og’s pike was now held out horizontally before them, and Grim was charging forwards, his powerful thighs and hips driving forwards, using his size to unsettle the enemy as the pike hit them at chest height.
Barclay’s warriors didn’t do so bad, one of them even cutting Og’s pike in half, so that he was left holding a glorified stick. But Dog was in amongst them now. Plate mail can stop a lot of things, Grim mused. But not an ogre’s mace. It came down on heads, shoulders and arms, metal crumpling and buckling and twisting—muscles tearing and bones snapping from the blunt force trauma. When he was done, a battered semi-circle of bodies was sprawled on the floor around him. Gurin and Assata tidied up any warriors still on their feet.
Some still lived, groaning in pain, one of them screaming—a horrible, high-pitched sound that pierced Grim’s ears and rang in his head. But they were incapacitated, that was what mattered. Grim led his friends to the door of the house. From behind a tree, Raya emerged, bow already nocked with another arrow.
Inside, the Director’s front room was laid out as a hall, with a fire and table dominating the space. Fresh rushes covered the floor and an expensive tapestry ran across one wall. At the far end of the room, Director Barclay had only one warrior left. Next to them were Sandon and Hassletoff.
Barclay wore a black robe and held a wooden staff. He gave a sardonic look as Og-Grim-Dog led his friends into the Director of the Bureau’s house.
‘I am beginning to see what this is,’ he said. ‘A revolution? Dwarves and ogres back in the Bureau?’ He turned to look at Sandon and Hassletoff. ‘Freeing the Bureau from the clandestine control of dark forces?’
He smiled as their reactions gave away the truth.
‘You’ve betrayed the Bureau,’ Sandon said.
He raised his new staff, the blue orb on the top emitting a magical light, but Barclay saw it coming. A flick of his staff and Sandon was sent to the floor, held in place by some vast, unseen force.
When Hassletoff reached for his hilt, Barclay’s warrior did the same, and the halfling backed away instead.
Barclay sighed at the stupidity of his opponents. He looked back to Og-Grim-Dog and his friends, who were slowly approaching the sorcerer, as if playing a game of grandmother’s footsteps. ‘Even if you could kill me,’ he said, ‘Samael and Lilith would exact a terrible revenge. Is that what you want?’
‘We’ll deal with them when the time comes,’ Gurin said.
Barclay twisted his face in derision. ‘Don’t be a child. The Bureau completely disbanded? The utter end of our way of life? These are the choices I have had to make, in the real world. It’s easy to be an old romantic and complain that the world isn’t perfect from the sidelines. I’m the best defence from those monsters that our community has. I don’t expect gratitude—’
Director Barclay said no more, as from nowhere a short spear erupted from his throat, the metal blade rising upwards and stopping when it hit his chin.
His remaining guard spun around and drew his sword in one motion, but there was no adversary to be seen, and while he looked for one, Hassletoff was upon him, burying his own sword in his back. The guard’s sword came for the halfling, but it was not hard for Hassletoff to duck under the blow and jump out of the way. By that point, Sandon was back on his feet and a blast of magic sent the mailed warrior to the floor.