The Ogre's Tale - Chapter 3[Patreon Bonus Exclusive]

The Ogre’s Tale, Chapter 3

Max looked over the tiny battlefield, confused. There wasn’t a single dead body out there. Instead of a stack of stripped corpses, there was… nothing. Well not nothing. The earth was slightly disturbed, but there wasn’t a single dead body out there.

Max turned to Shyia. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

Shyia shrugged. “Something took the dead. Not a monster, or it would have come after us as well.”

Max scratched his ass as he thought about this. For some reason, his left ass cheek itched ferociously. Something must have bitten him in his sleep, but he wasn’t terribly worried about it.

“Seems odd that something would do that.” Max poked at the loose soil, revealing several healthy looking tree roots.

“This world is very different from yours, Max.” Shyia puttered around the camp, sorting the ‘loot’ from the two mules, and the dozen cultists. “Oh, Max! You need this, I think…” 

Shyia held up a small medallion. Made of what looked like gold and fancy enamel, it had a stylized mouth on one side, and an ear on the other side. “An amulet of tongues. They’re quite valuable. And, I’m betting you don’t speak our language. They allow all people within a certain area to understand each other’s speech. 

Shyia walked over to Max, the tiny medallion swinging at the end of it’s chain, dangling from her hand. “Put this on, it’ll help.”

Max looked at Shyia, thought about it, and shrugged. He put it on. “Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever done.”

Max joined Shyia in picking through the pile of gear. It was mostly foodstuffs, clothing, and basic sundries.

“So, this was some kind of resupply caravan?”

Shyia nodded. “Yes. They were bringing supplies to the Dread Lord’s demesne. His servants, still mortal, need to eat and drink.”

“Any idea where this “dread lord” is holed up?” Max scratched his chin, thinking that maybe someone needed a visit.

“No, and nobody knows where. The cultists acted, and talked like ‘The Tree’ was the end of the journey for them, but there’s no camp here. And the camp they started from is about a day’s walk from here.” 

“Clever girl.” Max smiled. “So we can expect more necros fairly soon, because they’re close by, and this supply train’s loss will be noticed fairly quickly?”

Shyia nodded. “Yes, that seems very likely.”

“So they’ll send a second supply caravan, more heavily equipped, with more fighters, this time.”

“You were a warrior in your old world?” Shyia’s eyes wandered over Max’s battered frame, noting the accumulated injuries.

“Yes. I was. But what’s important right now is finding Morgan.”

“Who’s Morgan?”

“My daughter. She came through here first, I followed her. She’s in trouble, and I have to find her.”

“I did not see another world walker at the main camp, but they kept us in separate cells. She could be there.”

“What can you tell me about this camp?” Max sat down, and pulled out a knife, and began slowly sawing the makeshift cast off his leg as he questioned Shyia about the camp.

“I know that they bring Lifewood and Life-fruit from the Tree, and trade it with the Nagai, in return for supplies and sacrifices. They don’t tell the sacrifices that they’re sacrifices though. I found out because this bunch talked too much.”

“How many necros in that camp?”

“I don’t know, but there’s a large number there. More than fifty, I think.”

Max nodded, and went through his bag, pulling out his plate carrier, and pulled all the magazines from it, along with all his pistol magazines. It made a small pile.

“Man, I  hope there’s not more than 50, I’m really short on ammo.”

Max took some time to count and inspect.

“Two hundred and forty-four rounds. Total. Then it’s back to hand tools.”

“I don’t understand, you cannot make new fetishes?”

“New what?”

“The little metal jars that hold your spell that allows you to kill from a distance.”

“They’re not…” Max bit back what he was saying. Shyia’s intuition was good enough for this place, and didn’t some writer named Clark say something about tech being hard to tell from magic?

“That’s pretty much the core of my problem, Shyia, I can’t make more fetishes here. I lack the tools. And I’m a bit old in the tooth for learning how to swing a sword, I think.”

Shyia looked at Max the way women have looked at men since time began. “You’re not that old, Max.” She grinned.

Max flushed, and put the guns away.

Max and Shyia spent the better part of the day, sorting out the camping area, gathering all the valuable Lifewood, and putting away the Life-fruit. 

“You’ll have a fortune to find your daughter with, if we can make it to one of the cities with this.”

“Just so long as I find her.”

Max spent the last of the day, preparing an ambush site, and getting ready for company.

“I’ve got better chances if I force them to come to me, than trying to hunt them on their own turf.”

Max thought for a long moment, old memories bubbling to the surface. “I don’t think anyone in this world has ever seen ‘First Blood’.  He grinned. “Boy, are they going to be surprised.”

Shyia looked at Max’s face. She didn’t know this worldwalker very well, but she doubted that smile boded will for the Necros. 

“We need to keep working. Let me show you a few things.”

Max began to teach Shyia the fine art of boobytraps and dead falls. It was a productive and instructive evening… 

As the last rays of the sun fled. “So they usually arrive at night?”

“I’ve only made the one trip, and they seemed to think it was important to ‘be at the Gate before midnight’, so...I guess so? I’m not really sure.” Shyia frowned, unhappy that she wasn’t able to give Max more detailed information.

“Nothing like a good night fight.” 

Max took a deep breath in through his nose, enjoying the sweetness of the air. Since he got here, everything had seemed a little brighter, a little more real. He had not felt this alive since...

Since Marianne had died.

A little voice in the bottom of Max’s soul asked the question… Why the hell was he enjoying this so much? He shook it off. It was time to get some sleep.

===[Interlude, a Camp, roughly a day’s march away.]===

“They’re late returning.”

“Shall I send another supply caravan?”

“Hm. If something happened to them, and we don’t send a replacement caravan, the Master will be displeased. If they were delayed after making the delivery, the Master will get a double delivery. Which isn’t bad per se, and may curry favor, but might give Him expectations. Expectations we might have difficulty meeting.”

The Cultist was in a bit of a bind. While the lifewood and fruit they traded for cash and slaves was insanely profitable, the Master’s supply needs were not cheap, and then there were the bribes needed to keep certain eyes turned away from what was really going on in certain parts of the world. In short, this missing supply team was a pain in his ass.

“You’ll handle it. Take a regular supply team, and a Hand. And an extra slave, to make up for the delay. At worst, He might get expectations we’ll have to manage.”

“Yes, My Lord.” The lesser cultist scuttled away, cursing in his mind. The last thing he wanted was to spend two and a half days marching through the middle of nowhere to deliver supplies. This was a job for a supplicant, not an Elder Brother, like himself. Still, he could see...opportunities to be exploited. He just had to pick the right Hand leader…

“So that’s really the extent of it, Malkar. We’ve got a late supply caravan. It’s probably nothing, but The Eldest Brother wants someone important to go have a look at it, and I can’t think of anyone more qualified.” The Elder Brother smiled inwardly. Where do these idiots come up with these names, ‘Malkar’... What’s next, ‘Lord Midnight’?  Ah well, he thought, careful to keep the scorn out of his voice. At least he wasn’t being sent out to endure the bugs and other nasty creatures of the woods, unlike Malkar. And the three day absence would give the Elder Brother some space and time to arrange for some leverage on the assassin. Nothing like a web of trust and blackmail to cement a good working relationship…

“The good news is you’re going to get some command experience, which will set you ahead of the other hand leaders.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Malkar had served in the cult since they had bought him as a child. They pulled him out of the slave pits, because he’d killed and eaten one of the other slave children, because he was hungry. Malkar was considered reliable, but would never be considered for advancement past his current position, and he knew it. He had not been born into one of the cult’s bloodlines, so he’d always be a second class citizen. Still, they allowed him to indulge pretty much any other desire he might have, so he considered it a fair trade. Now this Blooded twit was dangling the idea of advancement over his head, like he was some numpty fresh from the slave pits. Malkar could smell the bullshit coming off this mission. He went to find the rest of his Hand.

Malkar entered the barracks bay in which the members of his Hand lived.

“Gather round, Brothers. We have orders from on high. Someone’s been naughty, and it’s our job to spank the guilty.” Wilf put down the small throwing knife he was honing, Strom laid down the gigantic weight he was working, Nulla sat up from his pallet, and looked at Malkar, and Juf quit shadow-fencing to listen to their Hand leader.

“Someone had the poor taste to attack a supply caravan for the Great One, and the Elders are… displeased. So, it’s our job to find these people, and make them very, very sorry they stole from the Great One. We have no idea who did it, or where, only that the supply caravan is missing. So it’s our job to go find this out.”

“pack for a week in the field, we’re going to be babysitting a supply convoy. So here’s what we’re gonna do...”

======================================

Back at the Tree, Max scratched his ass furiously. Whatever had bitten his left ass cheek was clearly spreading.

“Maybe it’s not a bite, maybe it’s like poison ivy or something.” Max willed himself not to scratch.

“What’s that?” Shyia looked up from the small cookfire she had made. She was putting the stolen supplies to good use, making lunch.

“It’s a plant that causes intense itching, which is what I’m feeling right now. Started with my ass, now it’s all down my left leg, and spreading across my lower back.” Max sweated, not scratching was taking a lot of effort.

“Perhaps I could take a look?” Shyia offered with a smile. 

“That would be helpful, yes.” Max started shucking his gear, until he was stripped to the waist. He turned around so Shyia could get a good look at his back, and held still. 

Shyia bent close to examine Max’s back. At first she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Perfectly healthy flesh, no signs of any irritation, infection or damage. She started to turn away, then stopped. She looked up Max’s back to his neck. Across his shoulders, salt and pepper back hair, and a sprinkling of scars. As her eyes trailed down his back, she gasped, realizing what she was seeing. All of the hairs on Max’s lower back were a glossy black, and she could see where a scar ended abruptly, as if the other end of the scar had simply been erased. As Shyia watched, Max’s body simply absorbed the rest of the scar.

“Shit, what is it?” Max worried. Any sort of debilitating infection or injury he did not need right now, he had cultists to kill. 

“ I.. I’m not sure what I’m looking at, Max.” Shyia poked at Max’s flesh, cautiously. “It looks like you’re...getting younger?

“You’re telling me that the reason my ass itches is that it’s getting younger?” Max asked, the disbelief heavy in his voice.

“Suit yourself…” Shyia snipped, annoyed that she was not believed.

“Hold on Shyia. I’m not being a dick, it’s...Ok, maybe I am being a dick, but being told that my ass is getting younger is a lot to accept from someone who grew up where magic...wasn’t. I mean, seriously, there isn’t any magic where I come from, and while I don’t know shit about magic, I’m pretty sure this is weird, even for magic.”

“You’re… not wrong, Max. This is something I’ve never seen, or read about before.”

Max tensed, balling his fists, then forcing them to relax. “Ok, so what do we do about this?”

Shyia glanced at the pile of life-fruit. She was silent for almost a full minute. “Well, there’s a potential solution, but it’s not without risk.” Shyia picked up one of the fruits and held it out to Max. 

“This is life fruit. It’s like a health potion. If you’re sick, it will help.” 

Max took the fruit. “Ok, so just eat it?”

“There’s a risk, Max. If you eat too much, or eat too fast, you’ll get mana sickness, which can kill you, if you’re not careful. Life fruit gives you health, but also gives you mana. If you overcharge your mana, you could get sick, or even die.”

“Ok, and if this fruit doesn’t blow me up, then what?” Max continued to eye the fruit, turning it in his hand.

“It will cure you, assuming that what’s happening to you is bad. Otherwise, it might accelerate what’s happening to you. But since all it seems to be doing is making you young again, I don’t really see the problem.”

“That’s a pretty valid argument. Here goes nothing.” 

Max took a large bite, and immediately swallowed, assuming that anything good for him was going to taste bad. He was pleasantly surprised, Life fruit was pretty damned tasty. Sort of black-berry like, with hints of plum, or maybe pear. Hard to tell. Before he realized it, he’d eaten the whole damn fruit.

The itching exploded. Flashing across his body in a rush. Max grunted, refusing to cry out, as the sensation of an intense sunburn flared across his body and faded out. “Shit!”

“Would you like the good news or the bad news, Max?” Shyia was grinning.

“What the fuck was that?!” Max felt short of breath, his whole body was tingling. He also felt madly hungry. “Gimme another one of those things…”

“Are you su-” Shyia looked startled as Max snatched the second and third fruits from her, wolfing them down as fast as he could. 

“Hungry!” Max snarled, as he gorged on the fruit, barely noticing that he even ate traces of wood, leaf and stem in the process of shoving the fruit into his mouth. The tingling sensation deepened into a light burning sensation that was slowly sinking deeper into his flesh. He began to eat from the pile of fruit, managing to slow himself down, as he ate. By the 4th fruit he could feel the itching sensation in his bones, and he was starting to feel less hungry. After the 8th one, he felt… full. Also, the itching had stopped.

“You.. you ate enough of those to make a high level mage explode. You should be dead.” Shyia looked amazed. “And you look...fine.”

Max stifled a belch. “I feel pretty good, too. In fact…” Max stood abruptly, and then smiled. “I have died and gone to heaven. Every single ache, pain, and grinding joint have simply… gone away. Is this permanent?”

“I..I don’t know, Max. I’m not that well educated in magic, whatever is going on here is either a worldwalker thing, or something magical that’s beyond what I know.” Shyia tucked a bit of dark hair behind an ear. “But it seems to agree with you, whatever it is.”

“It’s funny. I always thought that things that were good for you would taste bad. Those fruit taste amazing.” Max grinned, and stretched. He hadn’t been this pain free for years, and the sensation of being able to move without something aching was intoxicating.

Shyia watched Max, a flitter of concern crossing her face. She knew that mana did not just ‘go away’. In order for Max to remain unharmed after eating that much Life fruit, something magical must have occurred. She had no idea what. Still, he looked  fine. Very fine, now that she thought about it.

Shyia twirled one of the stems left over from Max’s gorging. “Max, have you ever done anything with your levels?”

“The silver air-letters and such?” 

“Yes.”

“Not really, no.”

Max and Shyia were on the move. While camping next to that gigantic tree felt nice, the real problem was lack of water. So he was hunting water. Starting at the tree, he began walking outwards in a standard spiral search pattern. It took a few hours, but eventually Max managed to find a small stream a short walk from the tree. 

“Leveling needs to be taken seriously, Max. Not doing it properly can really stunt your abilities.”

Max filled his empty gatorade bottles, and slipped a purifier tablet in. He set the bottle aside, and then began to take off all his gear. He was getting ripe, and needed a bath. 

“So, talk to me about levelling. how does all of this work?”

“And I’m taking a bath. If that’s something you don’t want to see, you might want to look away, Shyia.”

“Give me your clothes, and I’ll wash them while you wash yourself.”

Max thought about it. There was something about the look on Shyia’s face that left him feeling a little bit suspicious, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. “Sure, I guess.”

Max stripped down, firmly shoving any personal feelings about being nude in front of a woman he barely knew.  This is a survival situation, he told himself. Putting his clothes on top of his gear, he stepped into a small sandy section of stream, and squatted, splashing water on himself, and scrubbing himself down. While he didn’t have any soap --And that’s a mistake I won’t make twice, he thought to himself--  he could still manage a decent level of cleanliness by simply scrubbing off all the sweat and dirt with water.  

“Well, that could have been better. At least I can’t smell myself anymore.”

“You smelled fine to me.” Shyia chuckled, her voice throaty, as she wrung out the last of the water from Max’s pants.

I’m in trouble, Max thought. She was an attractive woman, and here he was, buck naked in a stream, not twenty feet away. 

Shyia walked along the streambed, putting an intentional sway in her step as she came closer to him. She held out his still wet clothes. “I said it before, you’re not that old, Max.” 

“But I don’t want to take advantage.” Max protested, the conflict between his upbringing and his libido raged in the back of his mind. Not to mention thoughts of Marianne.

Shyia looked down, smirked, and looked him straight in the eyes. “I think you’ve been outvoted.” She sauntered in the direction of their camp, putting a sensual roll in her walk.

Max looked down. It would appear that not only had his lunch fixed his knees, it had fixed everything else, too. He glared, and hissed a whisper at his lower body. ”Nobody asked you.”