072 – Cuffs
***
The ogres rushed toward me. I stopped to think about this.
These ugly brutes stood over twice my height at four meters tall and outweighed me by several tons. Beating them in a one-on-one fight was out of the question, and I wasn’t in a one-on-one fight; there were five of them. The situation looked bad for me. However, my task was not to slay the giants; I just had to keep them away from our troops. Scaring the ogres off, luring them away, or otherwise getting them to leave the battle would do just as well.
The ogre at the front of the pack lurched forward to wrap its massive hands around my neck. I ducked down and rolled between its legs. In passing, my Staff Version Two smacked against its exposed shin. Wood struck bone, and the ogre grunted in pain, but the attack did no significant damage.
The first thing to consider was the monsters’ speed. They weren’t slow. The ogres moved about as fast as a normal person despite their size and bulk. My augmented and enhanced reflexes let me move much faster than them, and burning some mana for my developing technique let my mind outpace my body. ‘Quick Thinking’ gave me an advantage here, as these dumb brutes wouldn’t be doing any of that.
I had glimpsed their hunting methods in the earlier ambush on the passing herd. Their whole fighting style—if you could use the word ‘style’ to describe it—involved grappling. Once they grabbed hold of a victim, they would punch, twist, rend, and strangle. The dead moss-beast’s broken legs and mangled spines evidenced their ability as wrestlers.
Therefor, our two greatest strengths opposed and countered one another. Their wrestling, should they get their hands on me, would make my speed worthless. They would simply crush me to death. My faster reflexes, conversely, prevented them from capturing me. I could dodge and sidestep their attacks. We were at a stalemate until one of us made a mistake.
I darted through the five giants, thinking this would be as easy as my fight against the trolls, when one swiped its hand past me. It missed but grasped onto my flowing cloak. The monster yanked me off my feet and sent me flying through the air. It would have twirled me around and smashed me into the ground like a lap dog at the end of a leash, but I unclasped the cloak and went flying through the air. I bounced gracelessly across the highland turf several meters away.
Underestimating the brutes almost got me clobbered.
The problem here was that if I made a mistake, it would mean my death. If the ogres made a mistake, it meant I continued to have a solid spine for another few moments until they tried again. I was the one taking all the risk with no good way to fight back.
I picked myself up from the ground and brushed off the dirt. The ogre family continued toward the formation of Warcreeps battling with the highland trolls. The giants would strike our forces like bowling balls into wobbly pins.
The satchel at my side contained tools and runestones and samples, none of which had military uses. I was a technician not a siege engineer. Monster wars were not my area of expertise. Given time, I could come up with some kind of anti-ogre device, but not in the heat of battle. I fished around in my bag for runestones.
The ogres, unlike their trollish allies, were diurnal creatures that preferred to be active in the daylight hours. Their squinty eyes and tall height let them scan the horizons for prey or rivals. So, my lumestone overloaded with mana did not blind them as well as it would have other monsters. I ran past the ogre family, holding the shining light aloft with my levitation staff. The blazing point of light passed in front of their ugly faces, zipping around like an angry insect.
It failed to blind them, but the lumestone got their attention. They bellowed and swatted at the shining gadfly. The family directed their anger away from the Warcreeps and back toward me. I reclaimed my spot as the most irritating enemy and the first to be smashed.
Perhaps Putrizio was right. I should have learned an offensive power as my first technique. Gritha shot puffs of fire. Malisent paralyzed foes with a look. Iiyluzh was dripping with poisons. Even Zambulon had a Whetted Blade of impossible sharpness. If I had developed a technique like those, it might topple these giants. I tossed aside my staff and drew my blade.
The ogres fanned out around me in a semicircle. They weren’t totally stupid. They had the same cunning as any predator. I gave ground, unwilling to let them surround me. One dove for me with both hands.
“Quick Thinking.”
My eyes slid along the others who waited to the side. The clumsy attack was a feint. The first ogre would force me to dodge into an unfavorable position where its family members would be ready to pounce. Instead of running away from the tackle, I jumped up and scurried over the ogre as it impacted the ground, moving in a totally unexpected direction.
As I ran over the ogre’s back, I gave it a quick jab with my dress sword. The metal bit into its back like a needle.
The sword stroke proved to me that these ogres were mundane monsters. They were born hideous and they grew huge by feasting on the moss-beasts. No daemons possessed them, as with the jewel-beetles from the magic garden. They had no inner fire, as with the devil-birds at the citadel. They did not grow monster cores or produce lunar essences. No monster hunters would bother tracking down common ogres. That lack of magic meant they wouldn’t surprise me with unexpected powers, such as when the saber-tusked boar belched up a cloud of incendiary bile.
Ogres were pure muscle.
Another one tried to grab me. My soul flared up as I focused my mind on this instant. As the meaty paws shot toward me, I filled my sword with fire and flicked its blade the monster’s left thumb. The ogre recoiled and howled. It held its wounded hand spurting blood. A giant thumbnail landed in the moss nearby, neatly sliced from the sensitive flesh.
I didn’t really need to kill the monsters. They were too big and too numerous for that. I just had to sting them.
My tactics changed from simple avoidance to counter attacking in the most wicked ways possible. Paper cuts and thumbtacks. I stabbed their fingertips and sliced their knuckles. My sword fell on their calves, the pit behind their knees, lips and noses, groins, tailbones, and anywhere that caused agonizing pain. Their flesh could not resist my scalpel. In a few minutes, I had them screaming and bloody.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
While magic enhanced my fighting to a superhuman level, it also had a serious cost. My mana dwindled rapidly, consumed by a quenchless fire. I had to work fast before the intense battle left me completely out of fuel.
As the ogres tried to crawl away from me, I stabbed into the soft soles of their feet, ensuring they couldn’t flee.
Nearly spent, I lowered the intensity of my flame and a wave of exhaustion struck me. The highland trolls had been punching bags at the start of the battle, but now they could actually overwhelm me with their numbers. I didn’t rush back to the Warcreeps.
The sight of the ogres reduced to bawling babies rolling on the grass had ruined the morale of the trolls. They gave up the fight. Our own Warcreeps then broke formation to run down the enemy. They took prisoners, tying them up with ropes and savagely clubbing any that dared to resist.
“Nimblesto. What are you doing?”
“Goblin win fight. Goblin hate troll. Troll stink, stupid, ugly,” he cackled joyfully.
Nimblesto and his scouts laughed and skipped in circles around a wounded troll. They viciously stabbed the poor monster with their tiny spears. The cowardly goblins avoided real fights, but happily swarmed anyone that showed weakness.
“We’re supposed to be slave raiding. Quit killing the captives.”
“Troll lose fight. Troll feed goblins.”
I was too tired to deal with the little monsters. They perforated the troll until flowing blood slicked its fur. That one wasn’t going to survive.
Bodies littered the field. Trolls too wounded to enslave would be killed or left to die. Most of the survivors had minor injuries that might result in infection on the long trip home. Any who died on the way would get tossed in the river. Around twenty percent of the trolls would probably not make it back to the citadel from the looks of things.
Famigrist bound the captured trolls in ropes and then strung them together in gangs of six. They would have to march single file down the mountain pass, so they needed some slack in their bindings.
“You didn’t kill the ogres,” he said.
“There were five of them and one of me. I did the best I could on short notice.”
“Few would pass up a chance to slay such man-eating monsters. They are the natural enemies of human civilization.”
“But there’s no civilization up here, and no people to eat either. So it doesn’t hurt anyone to let the ogres roam the highlands. I prefer to leave things alone unless they threaten to harm me. And in this case, we’re the aggressors, not these ogres.”
“You’re too soft. It would be kinder to slay them quickly. They have no way to hunt without their trolls. Starvation will overcome them.”
“Oh. Right. I hadn’t thought of that…”
The ogres were adept at killing moss-beasts, but they had to grab them first. Without trolls to direct the herds to an ambush, the ogres would never catch their prey. The moss-beasts’ wheels made them too efficient to chase after, because rolling across the plains did not tire them out as it would overgrown bipeds.
“Is this type of monster really impossible to enslave?”
“Korkso and his Goadsmen could break an ogre’s will and enslave it to the monster army. But we have no way to subdue them for the trip home. Their fits of anger would endanger our troops and boats.”
I looked over at the wounded monsters as they crawled across the ground.
“How much time do we have?” I asked.
“We will feed our troops and prisoners with the dead moss-beasts before the march. Two days.”
“Okay. Let me come up with something.”
***
With no wood and no fire, the monsters gobbled down the raw flesh. They stripped the moss-beasts to their bones, as well as the fallen trolls. Cannibalism was no crime among monsters. Our Warcreeps took the prized cuts meat for themselves. The bloody meal made them even more aggressive and fearless. The highland trolls got the cast off sinews, skin, and globs of fat. They didn’t complain. It was a better portion of a successful hunt than they usually received from the ogre family.
I ate the last of my fruit and went without sleep. Worse, I had no time to replenish my stores of mana through rest and meditation. I worked non stop until we were ready to depart.
“The ogres are already causing trouble,” Famigrist complained. “Have you finished your wizardry?”
As the ogres’ wounds healed, they became more defiant. The fact we had stolen their kills filled them with indignation. These monsters, being so huge and powerful, could not quite comprehend that smaller creatures had taken them prisoner. They were too accustomed to being in charge to fully submit.
“All done. It’s not pretty, but it should work.” I held up sets of iron neck collars dangling from long chains. “Let’s put them to the test.”
With some wrangling, Famigrist and I clapped the iron bands on the ogre family. The collars were far too small for the giants, so they were converted to manacles. We chained the monsters by their wrists.
“Okay. This will should keep our big prisoners in line.”
I extended my fire up the chain and channeled mana into the cuffs. The runes inscribed on the metal bands formed a simple array that discharged a blast of energy into the prisoner. The ogre howled in pain as its arms went limp. It slumped over to its side.
“The shocker cuffs aren’t well made. Too many uses will break the magic. But they should last until we get back to the citadel.”
Famigrist eyed the cuffs warily. “Can you make these slave collars for anything?”
“They’re too weak to work on magical creatures like the devil-birds. Any creature with an internal fire could resist the effects. But they could work for normal trolls,” I assured him.
“On our return, you should speak with Master Korkso. Your wizardry might benefit his training the monster army.”
The shock cuffs inflicted an unpleasant sensation on their wearer, but that was a side effect. If its only function was to cause pain, it would end up enraging the defiant monsters until they broke free and attacked. The real purpose of the cuffs was to stun and weaken the captives. The ogre’s arms turned to jelly. It became groggy and confused by the blast, all its anger dispelled.
“Since only you understand this strange wizardry, Strythe, that makes you the wrangler for the ogre family. You can tend to them on the march across the highlands and down the mountain pass.”
“Oh no,” I groaned. I needed sleep, not more responsibility.
“They are a quite territorial. I doubt the family will leave their hunting grounds without strong encouragement. Furthermore, ogres are notorious for hating water.”
“Then how are we going to get them on the boats?”
“How are you going to get them on the boats... An interesting problem. Perhaps you can create some new magic for that as well.” Famigirst said. I could almost think there was a note of smugness in his growling voice. “Prepare your captives, Strythe, we march at sundown.”