Sebille shot free, landing on her knees on the dirt floor of what appeared to be a big cave. She immediately surged to her feet and shuddered, a violent, full-body affair that nearly shook her right out of her Wicked Witch of the West shoes.
One of my flailing hands found the cool smoothness of the throne and shoved. I fell forward, my sneakers finally finding purchase in the dirt. Relief shot through me like a jolt of electricity.
I was almost free.
A thick arm snaked around my waist, and I was yanked back to a thigh as wide as my entire body. It was like sitting on a warm, flesh-covered shelf.
Bright blue, bead-like eyes observed me with a definite twinkle. Above the eyes was a mop of wild, white hair. Below the eyes was a bulbous red nose. Under the nose was a wide smile framed in white hair that fell to the ogre’s bare chest.
Nipples on a Nanny Goat! I needed eye bleach.
I closed my eyes, cursing Sebille for sacrificing me to get herself free.
The ogre holding me in place shook with jolly laughter. He was like an ogre-shaped Santa with a cringing, miserable tot perched on his lap.
Except that ogre Santa was sans red velvet and a reindeer short of a full ride.
Goddess in a gondola!
I was Naida Elf on a fleshy shelf.
Waving my arms and kicking my legs, I tried in vain to propel myself free. My body didn’t move. Not even a little bit.
I turned to those amusement-filled eyes and glared. “Let me go!”
When he merely laughed again, I glared at the others. “Do something!” I barked out.
Sebille spun around as if she’d just remembered I was there and held up her hands. Pale green energy spit from her palms. “Let her go,” she warned the naked ogre.
Our host and hostess stopped laughing. Rick stepped forward, hands extended in supplication. “No! Don’t zap The Benevolent One!”
I glared at Rick. “I’d prefer to observe his benevolence from a distance if you don’t mind.” Then I realized what I’d said and my face heated. “I mean. I don’t want to observe his benevolence at all. Not one part of it.” I flinched, my face hot enough to cook an egg. “I just want him to let me go.”
“And to put on some clothes,” Sebille added, her eyes lifted to the cavern ceiling high above us.
Maxine tittered. “The Benevolent One rarely wears clothes when giving audience.”
I frowned, my gaze turned determinedly away as The Benevolent… Gah! His name had too many syllables. I decided to call him TBO for short. “Then wrap him in a towel or something. This is disturbing on so many levels.”
“It is an honor to be seen by The Benevolent One,” Rick said, frowning his displeasure at our reactions.
“It isn’t being seen that’s the problem,” Sebille said.
“I’d prefer to see less of him,” I snarked. “Much less.”
Sebille snorted unhelpfully.
Rick continued to glare at us. Clearly, he was displeased.
“Irgh peicewa forgu,” Maxine said in a growly tone. “Blawa dergh vishgu.”
TBO’s sparkling gaze turned my way. Whatever Maxine had said to the unwrapped ogre, he didn’t seem to have taken offense. “Gerch blazu veerg,” the elder responded. He gave me a gentle shove and I scrambled off his knee. Rick dropped a long red scarf of some kind over TBO’s shoulders, and the elder wrapped it around his upper torso with quick, expert movements. For a guy who spent much of his time unclothed, he seemed very adept at covering the parts that didn’t really need covering.
“Um,” I said. Then catching Rick’s glare, I swallowed the rest of my complaint.
Sebille leaned close. “Let’s just get what we came for and get out of here,” she murmured.
I sighed. “Benevolent One,” I began.
The twinkle was dashed from the black eyes. “Gardnu freesh!” he barked angrily.
Rick bobbed frantically, his gaze locked on the dirt at his feet. “Forgitch ignu kompa.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“You must do the supplication dance before you speak with The Benevolent One,” Maxine said.
I bit back another sigh. “Okay. What’s the dance?”
“You must do the Hockum Pockla.”
I looked at Maxine. “I have no idea what that is.”
“It is simple,” she said.
“The dance is steeped in ogre history,” Rick said, nodding.
“Fine,” I said. “What do I need to do?”
Maxine coughed into her hand and cleared her throat, seeming to struggle to keep from coughing again. Finally, she looked up and cleared her throat one more time. “Apologies. Allergies. You understand.”
I nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “First, You put your right foot in.”
“Then, You put your right foot out,” Rick added.
“You put your right foot in,” Maxine said on another cough, her shoulders shaking suspiciously.
“And then…” Rick coughed too, seeming to have to work to pull himself together. “And you shake it all about.”
“You do the Hockum Pockla,” Maxine said between clenched teeth.
Rick continued, “And you turn yourself around.”
Maxine shrugged. “That's what it's all about.”
I eyed them, starting to smell a rat.
“Have fun with that,” my traitor of an assistant said.
Maxine violently cleared her throat. “Darn allergies.” She smiled at us. “Both of you came before The Benevolent One, so both must do the Hockum Pockla.”
It was Sebille’s turn to frown. “Goddess on a Stairmaster,” she groused.
I laughed at her discomfort.
All three ogres narrowed their gazes on us.
My smile died. “Okay, Sebille. Let’s just get it over with.”
We put our right feet in.
We put our right feet out.
We put our right feet in.
And we shook them all about.
We did the Hockum Pockla.
And we turned ourselves around.
“And that's what it's all about,” we chorused together.
My entire body was pink from embarrassment.
TBO clapped his hands, delighted. “Again!” he barked in perfect English.
Feeling like marionettes on strings, we complied. The ogres made us do it
