elf saw another ragged, broken shape on the floor, and he recognized poor Dinekki-or what was left of her. The frail old shaman’s body was torn and broken, as though rent by terrible violence. Smoke rose from her tattered flesh and from the floor around her. An explosion had shattered one leg of the looming black statue that rose above everything else in the room. That obsidian icon teetered now on its remaining leg, and the rubble strewn beside the smashed limb was smoking in the same manner as Dinekki’s flesh.
Incensed beyond reason, Kerrick charged the queen, trying to slash with his sword. She didn’t appear to notice him but instead staggered away, still screaming, swatting at the flames that burned along her body. Her right hand was a charred stump, blackened and still smoking. He thrust, missing her, and sprang forward to resume his desperate pursuit.
“Don’t do that!” cried an excited voice.
“What?” Kerrick asked, stunned by the sudden appearance of his small companion at his side. The elf stopped and stared at the kender.
“That’s better,” said Coraltop Netfisher. “Just watch. This is getting better and better every second!”
“Bruni!” Moreen cried.
The big woman, still chained, was rolling away from the gaping ogres who had held her. The acolytes fled to the far corner of the temple, while the guards drew their weapons and ran to protect their king.
Together with Barq One-Tooth, the chiefwoman raced across the throne room toward her old friend, who was struggling to stand, her hands chained before her. An ogre guard lunged to intercept them, but when Barq raised his axe the warrior retreated warily.
“Cut these!” cried Bruni, kneeling on the stone floor. She placed her manacled hands on that hard surface, and Barq brought his axe down with one crushing blow, slicing through the iron links.
Magic blasted and a shower of sparks swirled through the air, as Stariz howled in fury and managed to cast another explosive spell at the Highlander thane. Barq One-Tooth flew across the room and smashed into the wall, slumping next to the ogre king, his axe spinning free onto the floor.
“My turn,” muttered Bruni, seizing the weapon, and turned to face the looming, burning queen.
The big woman hurled the weapon with both hands. Barq’s axe flipped over and over through the air and thunked loudly into the black mask over the queen’s face. That obsidian shell broke away, and Stariz ber Bane stood glaring at them, unhurt, her eyes blazing with maniacal fire.
“Blasphemy!” cried the high priestess and queen. She turned toward the tilting statue, raising her arms in a gesture of pleading. “Hear me, O Master! Smite those who thwart your will, who endanger the place of your people in the world! Show us your favor, and destroy those who are your enemies!”
She spun back to face the ogres, humans, and elf, casting back her head with a shriek of crazed sound, half prayer and half laughter. The statue tilted wildly, but Stariz wasn’t looking. Her face was distorted by glee and fury, joy and rage all mingled in an expression of insane frenzy.
“This is the will of Gonnas the Strong!” she howled, raising her hands for one last spell.
The statue of the Willful One toppled forward on its one leg. Slowly, like a tall tree breaking free of its ancient roots, it plummeted, smashing down upon the ogress queen with a weight of thirty tons. The brittle obsidian shattered. Black stone chunks tumbled across the floor. Bits flew everywhere, the roar filling their ears.
Of Stariz ber Bane there was no sign except for a smear of dark blood that slowly oozed between the shattered rock, spreading in an oily slick across the floor.
“The queen is dead!” gasped an ogre warrior, one who wore a gold-braided helm that seemed to mark him as an officer.
Others of the guards were tending the king, helping him to stand unsteadily. Two of them offered shoulders for the ogre monarch’s support.
For a long time no one spoke. Everyone was too astonished, too exhausted.
“With her passing, let the killing cease,” finally declared Grimwar Bane, stumbling for a moment, then shaking off the support of his warriors. He took three steps forward and held up his hands in a sign of truce.
Kerrick’s sword was ready, the ogre monarch just a long lunge away from him, but something caused him to hold the blow. Instead, he remained on guard, watching and waiting.
Bruni came slowly forward, wrapping one arm around Kerrick, the other around Moreen Bayguard. Other slaves closed in, swords and spears leveled at the king, as a rank of red-coated ogre guards came forward to flank their monarch,
“What did you say?” asked Moreen, her eyes narrowed.
“I said, let the killing cease,” declared Grimwar Bane. He looked at Bruni and nodded quietly. “You were right,” he said, “about many things.”
“Bruni, what did you say to him?” asked the chiefwoman, in a tone of wonder.
“Well, for one thing, that I was more worried about the queen’s rage than the king’s,” the big woman said with a wry snort. She looked at Grimwar Bane, then stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “I think you’re talking about how we waste too much of our energy in trying to kill each other. How slaves, in bondage, will inevitably strive for freedom.”
“Yes, yes … Bruni,” replied the king. “You saw the truth, and you dared to tell me, even when I had your life in my power.”
“What about the slaves and all the dead?” demanded Moreen. She gestured toward Strongwind Whalebone’s corpse, which was being reverently covered by Barq One-Tooth. “He could have been the greatest leader his people have ever known, and your queen killed him for her own pleasure. Many of your people and ours have died on this day, and your guards are hunting and killing humans in your city even as we speak.”
“Send word to Captain Verra!” commanded the king, shaking his head, wiping blood and dust from his face with a beefy hand. “Tell him that I order a truce effective at once. All attacks are to cease immediately!”
“Aye, Sire! It shall be done!” declared the golden-helmed guard. He departed at a run.
“Those slaves are pretty mad,” said Coraltop Netfisher, striding right up to the ogre king. “I must say, of course, they have cause to be. You haven’t treated them very well, have you now?”
“Who are you?” gruffly demanded Grimwar Bane.
“Oh, me?” The kender all but blushed, then looked sheepishly at Kerrick. “I guess I can tell you now. You see, I’m sort of a … well, a god, I guess you could say. Some people would say that, anyway. Lots of folks call me Zivilyn Greentree. I’m not really a great god or a big god or anything, but elf sailors have worshiped me for centuries, all over Ansalon, except I wanted to get out and see more of the world. Kerrick here was kind enough to take me along with him.”
“A god? Zivilyn, the Green Star?” declared Kerrick, not sure if believed it … not sure if he wanted to laugh, bow down in awe, or cry. “All this time … you were, what? Riding with me? Watching me?”
“Well, I had some other things to do. You might have noticed that I wasn’t around all the time! Like Chislev Wilder-who is called Kradok by the Highlanders incidentally; did you all know it was the same god? I didn’t think so-I was pretty tired of watching you people and you ogres bash each other all the time. Did you know, even Gonnas the Strong was getting sick of it.” The kender looked up at the looming form of Karyl Drago. “Isn’t that right?”
“That is right,” replied the huge ogre, looking up from his beatific scrutiny of the golden blade. “The will of Gonnas is not for more blood.”
“The slaves,” pressed Moreen, “you’ll free them and give them back their lands?”
“Aye. You and they are entitled to everything I can do for them,” the king said softly. He took Bruni’s outstretched hand. “As you told me, as long as I tried to hold those humans in chains, revolt was inevitable. Many would die. I am tired of fighting and of seeing people die.”
“There is room enough here and in all the Icereach for both our peoples,” Bruni suggested.
“As of this moment, all of my slaves are free. They may stay here and live as citizens of Winterheim if they wish. I hope that many of them will do so, for I do not know what my city would be like without humans here. Those who wish to may return to their steadings-homes that shall remain free of the threat of ogre raids from this day forward.”
“Can we trust you?” asked Moreen warily.
Bruni, still holding the king’s massive hand, turned to her oldest friend and replied for him. “Yes, I am certain that we can.”
“I think so too,” said Coraltop, standing on tiptoes to scrutinize the ogre king’s face. “His eyes mean what he says. Not like that queen, may she
