Expiring Covenant (Black Lake Book 1)

Chapter 12
Ren

~

I plopped Ike down on the ground and ran to my second-youngest bull siblin’. The only hen, and eldest, I always find myself in the role as peacemaker and nurse. I don’t tire of it, but wish the middlin’ two, Torc and Asr, could lighten my load from time to time.

I settled in the pine needles next to Asr and pulled him to me. His tears would have already been stanched if I hadn’t been there. Bulls love attention, the stinkers. It’s all about them. And in my experience, not just the younglin’s. I pushed a palm roughly at the moisture on his cheeks, spreadin’ a smudge of mud on each.

His expression turned sour. Asr had already turned his mind from the pain to images of vengeance—could see it as plainly as the mucus hangin’ from his right nostril. He pointed a fat, grimy finger at Torc, who ran from tree trunk to tree trunk as though Asr might forget where he was, once temporarily invisible behind one. I licked my thumb and dabbed at the bloody mark on Asr’s forehead.

I told the little fool, “My verdict is ya’ll live to fight another day.”

He was up without a word, after Torc.

I sat where I was and smelled the breeze. We ogres can collect a lot of scents with our snouts. And my snout twitched with a scent I couldn’t identify, and my tusks, which had recently experienced a growth spurt, tickled my upper lip. I puckered my lips to make the sensation go away, and tilted my head back to allow the sun to fully strike my face.

Finally, warm spring days.

I wouldn’t hate it if, when the time comes, I match up with an ogre from the lowlands. Or even midlands. Maybe not the plains. This winter had been brutal, with snotty, bored bull siblin’s continually at each other’s throats.

I rose to return to Ike. The tyke had a ball of elk manure he’d stolen from a beetle in one hand, a scruff of dirt in the other, and had somethin' else in his mouth, I didn’t want to think what. I squeezed his cheeks to encourage him to spit it out. The ogrelin’ screamed his defiance, as a live lizard flew out.

Ike stopped his cry abruptly to watch the reptile run away, before he realized he lost a great prize and started scrapin’ after it with a vengeance. I stood and tossed him high in the air to get his mind off of it. He screamed in delight for more, which I accommodated. Never admit it to anyone, but the stinker’s my favorite.

“Ya’re gettin’ too heavy for me though, Ikester. Ya weigh twice a tree trunk.”

“Moaaaaa!” he squealed.

I gave him one more hurl into the air before hangin’ him on my hip. I remembered the dung he had in his hand, turned him around and worked to pry his fat fingers apart.

“Baaaaa!” he cried.

“Hush, ya booger.”

I shook away what wasn’t plastered between his fingers, and set him on the ground again, needin’ two hands. I wiped at his palm with the corner of my smock. He promptly grabbed for a beetle the size of his hand. I managed to pull him away as the thin' lunged forward with its pinchers held high, ready for battle.

“Toyyyyyy!” the stinker yelled.

“No! No toy.”

He wasn’t convinced. I had to give up cleanin’ the hand. Stood up, pullin’ my year-old sweetest nuisance under my arm. Instead of screamin’ as I expected, he laughed, enjoyin’ the new view of the ground. His hands reached out at every spear of grass that came near. He was momentarily satisfied with this new game, thankfully, because I knew I had to check on Torc and Asr. They were way too quiet. Quiet little bulls is never a good sign.

I found them teasin’ a purple ant, the kind as big as an adult troll’s thumb. The ogrelin’s took turns sprinklin’ sand over the trail it followed, delighted in its struggle to pick the trail back up as it zigzagged in search. As soon as it found the scent again, they repeated the aggravation.

“It’s gonna get mad,” I told the idjits.

They giggled.

“Okay, I warned ya.” I turned away to stroll deeper into the forest. A blood curdlin’ scream made me turn back. I knew what it was gonna be.

“Help! Help me! Help me!”

Torc frantically swiped at his leg tryin’ to get the purple ant off. I heard the clickin’ sound as the giant insect plunged its fightin’ pinchers into my bull siblin’s calf. He screamed again and danced madly tryin’ to dislodge the thin’.

“Help!” Think he repeated that fifty times. Idjit.

I felt little motivation to defend or assist him, though I empathized for the wound he was receivin’. Was gonna hurt mightily for days. Deserved it, though.

I set Ike down and ran to Torc, used the loose-end of my smock to protect my hand and pulled the little beast off the bull’s leg. Between his maniacal jerkin’ and the ant’s strength, it took what must have seemed an hour to the frantic ogrelin’.

Finally off his leg, I flicked at the thin' to get it off my smock. It bounced on the ground, hissed, and reared, liftin’ its pinchers in the air. I looked for a rock to pound it with, in case it decided to come after me. But it must have had enough. Turned and limped away to care for its own bruises. It had made its point.

Blood flowed down the side of Torc’s leg. He cried and tears flooded his face. I didn’t bother with an I-told-ya-so. No point in stoppin’ the bleedin’ either. It would cleanse the wound of poison. And I wasn’t gonna reward the runt for his meanness by givin’ him attention.

I gave Asr a disgusted look though, to discourage his laughs and teases. “It could as easily gone after ya,” I said.

He sobered—maybe he has a tad of self awareness after all. Idjit. That gave me a smile. I turned to hide it, and hurried back to Ike. I shook his hands to get the rocks and dirt, and whatever else he’d collected away, before heftin’ him onto my hip.

“Toy!” Ike screamed, pointin’ to a marmot peekin’ out from under a log.

“No toy,” I said.

“Toy!” he repeated, pointin’ at a crow that landed on deadwood near us, givin’ us a quick study.

“No toy.”

The pine needles underfoot massaged my toes, the shade of the trees cooled. The sounds of the two bull siblin’s trailin’ behind returned to the routine roar of battle, antagonizin’, and discovery, with an occasional laugh. I thought how much Mama appreciates me takin’ the three bulls in the forest for the day.

“I get so much work done, and even get to put my feet up for a few minutes,” mama always said, before givin’ me a mushy kiss on the forehead, and a hard press of tusk to my temple.

But I don’t see it as effort. Yes, I have my own chores to do yet when I return home, but the peace and beauty of the woods isn’t somethin’ I’d ever take for granted. In a few seasons I’ll be paired up and startin’ my own family. Have no free time like this then.

Behind me echoed a new din. Torc and Asr were again in a pinecone battle. Grunts and giggles slithered through the trees ever so often. I crossed a rocky, dry creek and had to giggle at a loud shriek of joy as one of the bulls got the other with a good-one.

I breathed in deeply of the drier air up here, away from Black Lake, and thought about the short-tusked ogres I met at the last council gatherin’.

Which one, if any, noticed me?

I pictured them in my mind. Most were younger than me by a few season or more. Those close to my age still congregated in the woods playin’ muscle-games, disinterested in hens, yet. The few with maturin’ tusks, who I’m interested in, stuck closer to their papas, eager to hear every word the elder bulls uttered, ready to participate in the politics, ready to work their way up the clan hierarchy. Silly bulls love their drama.

My papa had never appeared interested in the social maneuverin’, even though he’s highly ranked, and the elders routinely seek him out for his wisdom. They appear at our doorstep anytime somethin’ stirs routine.

I smiled, thinkin’ of the broad eyes that greeted me at the door the day they came to seek Papa’s advice when Master Braes the elf began buildin’ his inn.

Screams behind me made me jerk, and pulled me from my thoughts. I ran back down the slope and grimaced at the new onslaught, but my bull siblin’s weren’t the mean parties for a change. Youthful gnomes, majies, perhaps twenty of them, surrounded Torc and Asr, pelted them with pebbles from the dry creek.

I at first chose not to interfere. I’d too often been the recipient of my siblin’s antics, and rather enjoyed they were gettin’ the rough-end of the game this time. But there were too many gnomes to make it anywhere near fair. The two bulls struggled to cover their faces with one hand, while they searched out their own weapons to hurl. Pebbles bounced off a head or chin and, “Ow!” pealed through the woods.

“Toy!” Ike screamed.

I ran toward the circle of majies and kicked leaves and rubble at them. A few turned on me and pelted me and Ike. I turned to protect the tyke best I could. Ike was far from intimated. Though he got hit once or twice, he wasn’t about to cry. He shouted, “Toy!” at the top of his lungs, and scrabbled to get to the ground to go after them. A larger pebble got me in the spine. Ouch. That one hurt.

“Okay! Ya guys have asked for it now.”

I tucked Ike under my arm facin’ the ground, more or less away from the soarin’ projectiles, and raced toward our attackers. I pushed a couple of the gnomes hard to the ground with a hand, while reachin’ out and stampin’ more with my outstretched foot. Pebbles inundated me, but I fought on, struggled to gasp air between my giggles.

With half the gnomes turnin’ on me, Torc and Asr were freed to go on the offensive. Two ogrelin’s are well matched against a dozen or so tiny gnomes. The majies blinked out as they were overwhelmed with pine cones, sticks, and about anythin’ the little bulls could get their hands on.

It became quiet as the gnomes disappeared.

The four of us ogres glared, lookin’ for a target. There were none. Where’d they all go?

“Toy?” Ike screamed.

“No toy,” I said.

“Toy!” he shouted, thrustin’ two grimy fists in the air.

I laughed. “No toy.”

We waited, scannin’ the woods.

“They’ll be back,” Asr whispered.

We waited.

And waited. I stood up straight when I realized I’d been stoopin’, ready for the next onslaught.

We waited still. Pow! A pebble bounced off my forehead and I let out a war-like scream. But Torc and Asr didn’t need a warnin’, for they were under attack too.

The original twenty had returned, each with a friend. The gnomes swarmed us. One pulled at my leg, tryin’ to trip me. Unfair. I grabbed the thin’ by the scruff and held it in front of me, usin’ him as a shield. It blinked into the ethereal after a moment, but I grabbed another that wasn’t fleet enough. I ran at others usin’ the one as a batterin’ ram of sorts, ploughin’ them over. Too fun.

The thin’s screeched in what could have been pain, anger, or joy, I’m not sure, but they fought ogre-stubborn. Ike cried now, but the majies appeared to go out of their way to avoid hurtin’ him, so I lay him on the pine needle covered ground, none-to-gently, and chased one particular gnome who hurled unfair-sized pebbles. I kept one eye on Ike to be sure they continued to leave him alone. They were. He sat up, no longer cryin’. He actually laughed and slapped his hands together, screamin’, “Toy!”

Little booger. He enjoyed his siblin’s plight.

With two free hands, and my courage bolstered with the knowledge I wasn’t gettin’ out of the battle without dozens of nasty welts and bruises, I threw myself into the game, and bowled over the gnomes as fast as they reappeared. I laughed at the pain and ran at my attackers. I didn’t bother tryin’ to throw anythin’ but a grabbed gnome. They usually blinked out before they collided with a friend, but the effort brought screeches of delight out of me.

Then it was utterly quiet again. All the gnomes disappeared at once.

The grunts and laughs of my siblin’s were the last to fade. I looked over at them as I laughed. But Asr and Torc stood erect, hands at their sides, frozen with slap-ya-in-the-face fear. I turned to follow their stare. My heart doubled in size and lunged for her throat.

“I couldn’t help but investigate what all the use of majic was about. Imagine my surprise, landin’ near an ongoin’ war.”

The giant creature stood four horse-lengths from me. Its head rose five times my height, the top of its wings much higher. There was an assault of two odors—one of rottin’ meat, another of musk. Finger-length canine teeth extended out of its relaxed jowls. There was somethin’ danglin’ from its jaw.

“Did ya eat a gnome?” Asr asked—his eyes looked as big as a balled fist.

The dragon looked down, as though he was tryin’ to see what we were lookin’ at. He swished around his mouth until a string fell to the ground. It appeared to be a bootlace. The dragon dipped his head to inspect it, neck archin’ sinuously as he did.

“I didn’t eat a gnome. Merely took a snatch at one out of habit,” he said. “It faded into the ethereal before I got to him. I guess I got closer than I thought.”

“Toy!” Ike shouted.

“No toy,” I said softly, pickin’ up the tyke.

I stole a quick glance at Torc and Asr. Their mouths gaped, eyes unblinkin’. A trickle of blood made its way down Torc’s forehead. As I turned around I jerked, and let out an eek.

“Sorry. didn’t mean to scare ya.”

The dragon loomed near, his long neck extendin’ like a snake strikin’ in slow motion. It sniffed at the tyke. Ike lunged out of my arm and snagged the dragon by the nostril.

“Toy!”

“No toy, Ike, no!”

“Ow,” the dragon muttered. “Do ya mind?”

I pried the little bull’s fingers apart and the dragon pulled away.

“Hungry little beastie,” the dragon said.

Beastie. “He’s just very curious about everythin’,” I said.

“I guess I should be glad dragonetes have no hands, though their teeth can go through yar lip if ya don’t drop the meat fast enough.”

His eyes flitted oddly as he spoke.

“Why do yar eyes do that,” Asr asked.

The dragon leaned toward my bull siblin’s. He made a snufflin’ noise, as though he didn’t appreciate their aroma. “Figger it out.” His head swung back toward me, and Ike reached for the dragon’s snout again, but the beast pulled away quickly. Once bit.

“If ya happen to mention to yar folks, ogre hen, that ya saw me in the woods, I would appreciate if ya mentioned I merely showed up out of curiosity, and meant no harm.”

“I heard ya eat our kind,” Asr said.

I turned a mean glare at the bull. Stupid thin’ to remind the dragon of. When I turned back to the giant, he softened the expression he had shot at Asr, coverin’ its vicious teeth some.

“We have a reputation we’re tryin’ to live down,” he said. “We wish to live here in peace with ya.”

“Eat—eatin’ gnomes isn’t gonna help,” Asr said.

“Yes, I suppose not,” the dragon admitted with a nod.

I gave Asr another scowl.

“No need to chastise him. He’s absolutely correct. Anythin’ I can ever do for ya, let me know.”

“How’re we supposed to do that?” Asr asked.

I shot Asr another look. Just hush. Maybe the creature will go away. The dragon swung his head slowly toward Asr, like a pendulum at the end of a long arm, but the giant’s expression wasn’t one of irritation. The dragon appeared to earnestly consider the ogrelin’s question.

“If ya have any gnomes about,” he said solemnly, “ya can always send them for me. They have a way of knowin’ where my kind is.”

His eyes did that whirlin’ thin’ again, before he retracted his head, his neck archin’ in the air. The giant awkwardly turned, wobblin’ forward like an overly-fat duck, before extendin’ its head up into the sky. With a leap, it launched and its long, multi-hued wings reached out toward the trees. With one powerful thrust it shot upward. Dust and pine needles fluttered around the four of us for several moments.

“This is gonna make a great story,” Asr said.

I glared at him, as I tried to force the tension out of my shoulders.

Ike pointed at the sky with ten wigglin’ fingers and shrieked, “Toy!”

~