Faun & Games Page 10

  They were smaller than he remembered, but he realized that this was because they were now younger. As the ogre approached, huge and awful, the dragons peered down at him.

  “Stay here no, dragons go!” the ogre cried, shaking one hamfist. But the dragons knew he couldn't reach them. They were young and foolish. One of them flew over the ogre and dropped a ball of dung. It splatted close, and some of it flew out to speckle the ogre's hairy hide.

  The ogre growled. It wasn't that dirt bothered him, but he was not old enough not to know he was being insulted. Ogres were quite stupid justifiably proud of their stupidity, but there were limits. He stooped, picked up a rock, and hurled it at the dragon. The dragon tried to swerve, but the rock clipped it on the tail, knocking it upside down.

  The dragon gyrated desperately to prevent itself from falling to the ground, then flew quickly away. In a moment the other dragons followed, they didn't care to tangle with an ogre in ogre territory.

  Satisfied, the ogre tramped on. He was evidently the border guard. It was just as well, because the cloud blanket was thinning. Soon they would have been exposed, and the ogre wasn't a much better bet than the dragons, as far as their safety went. Cathryn could have spread her wings and flown away, of course, but she was too courteous to do that.

  Cathryn stood and recalled her blanket. The wisps of cloud funneled into her hands, and the ground was clear again.

  Imbri resumed her determined trek. “It is getting close,” she said.

  “That's good,” Cathryn said, because as they walked she was looking more like seven than eight. It was clear that she would be unable to go beyond her limit.

  They crested a hill, and looked down on an enormous castle. It had no moat, and evidently didn't need one, because the bashed and splintered state of the trees around it showed it to be the home of an ogre.

  What else, here in ogre country?

  “It's in there,” Imbri said. “The one who knows where the dear horn is.”

  “I don't think there's anything in there but the ogre,” Cathryn said. “I don't think it's a good idea to go in.”

  “ But if he's the one who knows, we'll have to ask him,” Forrest said.

  “Ogres eat other folk, and crunch their bones,” Cathryn reminded him, shivering. As a child she lacked courage.

  “But that's temporary, here, isn't it?” Imbri asked. “Because all folk are just spirits, so can't be truly killed or destroyed?”

  “Yes. But it's awful getting crunched. It hurts. And if he crunches you, you'll be gone from that region. You can never return to where you died, any more than you can go beyond your regions of delivery or ending.”

  “You mean folk can die here?” Forrest asked, alarmed.

  “Not exactly. We can die, but it is limited.”

  “How can death be limited?”

  “Limited to the region where the death occurs. That means that though a person reconstitutes, he can never return to that spot, or ever come close to it. The limit is about six months on a side, From and To, and equivalent distances north and south.”

  Both Forrest and Imbri were perplexed. “But why can't a person just go there anyway?” Imbri asked.

  “He just can't. It no longer exists for him. He can see the limit, but can't cross it.”

  “You mean it exists, only he can't go there?” Forrest asked. “Others can go, but not the one who died there?”

  “Yes.”

  They pondered that a moment. Then Forrest had another question:

  “Suppose I get killed by the ogre, so I can't go back there, but then the ogre comes out here'? Beyond the six month range? Could I have at him again?”

  “Yes. When two folk fight, and one kills the other, he has to be careful when he leaves that area, because the other may be lurking for him, to kill him back. Sometimes two enemies leave a whole series of holes in each other's existences, making things difficult. So as a general rule, folk try not to kill or be killed, because it's such a nuisance.”

  “What about dragons or ogres?”

  “That's another matter. They are so dull that they don't worry about such complications. Dragons don't kill their own, and don't care about others. If an ogre crunches you once, he'll do it again. It isn't easy to talk to an ogre; they're too stupid. I think maybe this a bad idea.”

  “But if we don't talk to him, we can't find out where the dear horn is,” Forrest said. “Then we won't be able to complete our service to you, and you won't be able to help us find faun country.”

  “That is true,” she agreed sadly.

  Forrest pondered. “It occurs to me that this is like one of the Good Magician's Challenges. We just have to figure out the way through.”

  “But we have no guarantee that there is a way through,” Imbri said.

  “This isn't a carefully crafted test. This is real.”

  “Still, even real challenges often have solutions.” He gazed at the castle. “Maybe animal psychology will help. What is the basic nature of ogres?”

  “Everyone knows that,” Cathryn said. “They are the strongest, ugliest, and stupidest creatures around.”

  He nodded. “That's my understanding. I hear they even have contests in those categories. But I also hear that they're not bad folk, when you get to know them.”

  “Who would want to get to know an ogre?” Cathryn inquired.

  “We would,” Imbri said. “So we can ask him where the dear horn is.

  Oh, that's right; I forgot. I don't have much memory at this age.”

  But Forrest was working on his notion. “Ogres have pride, don't they?

  Suppose we challenged him to an ugly contest'?”

  “But we couldn't possibly win that,” Cathryn said. “None of us is even remotely uglier than the handsomest ogre.”

  “So we would lose,” Forrest said.

  “Yes. Instantly. Then he would crunch us.”

  But Imbri was catching on. “Would he crunch folk he had just bested, and who admitted it? Who maybe even praised his superior ugliness?”

  Cathryn stared at her. “What a notion! You mean his ogre pride in victory would make him generous?”

  Forrest nodded. “Yes. We could rally make him proud.”

  Imbri remained doubtful. “But if it doesn't work, we get crunched.”

  Forrest nodded. “So I guess I'd better go in alone.”

  Both fillies reacted. “We didn't say that,” Imbri protested.

  “No, we didn't,” Cathryn agreed.

  “But it's my idea, and there's no sense in having two or three of us get crunched, when one will do.”

  The two exchanged a generous glance. “We're not sure this is best,” Imbri said.

  “Consider it this way: if I get crunched, you will still be here to try it, if you wish to, perhaps with more success. If it works for me, then I can ask the ogre to let the two of you in. So you don't need to take the risk either way, unless you decide to.”

  “I hate to say it,” Cathryn said. “But he's making sense.”

  “Fauns are more sensible than I thought,” Imbri agreed.

  “And have more courage than I thought.”

  “Well, we don't just chase nymphs, you know,” Forrest said, embarrassed.

  “Now, how can I make myself ugly?”

  “Why even try?” Imbri asked. “Just challenge him, and lose. He won't know the difference.”

  He nodded. “I'll do it.” He squared himself, and marched on toward the castle.

  “Wait!” Imbri called. “If you get crunched, where will you reconstitute?”

  He paused. “How far is half a year?”

  Cathryn considered. “Back about where we emerged from the comic strip.”

  “Then I'll form there, just this side of it.”

  “All right,” Imbri said. “But be careful, Forrest.”

  He laughed. “If I was careful, I wouldn't walk into an ogre's den.”

  He resumed his march.

  The castle loomed larger and ug
lier as he approached it. It was huge and squat, with dull thatch for the roof, and mildew on the stone walls.

  The big front door was well over twice his own height, made of ironwood.

  He came to a stop before the door. Entry was a daunting prospect, but he raised one fist and knocked on the wood iron.

  There was no response. So he knocked harder. Still nothing. He realized that the ogre probably couldn't hear him. For one thing, there was a constant rumbling or crashing from within the castle, as if something huge and violent were bashing down walls.

  He looked around and saw a big bell. On it was printed the word WEATHER. Beside it was a solid metal bar. So he picked up the bar, hefted it high, and swung it at the bell-weather.

  There was a loud gong, followed by a crack of thunder. A storm cloud formed over the bell, shooting out bolts of lightning. The lightning struck the bell, adding to the sound. Then a bucket of rain dropped from the cloud and doused the bell. The sound faded, and the cloud evaporated.

  There was a rumbling behind the door. Then it jerked violently inward, so that the suction of the air blew Forrest inside. He stumbled and caught his footing, helped by his magic sandals.

  There stood the ogre: twice the height of a man, hairy, and disproportionately muscular. “Who you?” the thing demanded.

  “I- I'm Forrest Faun. I come to have an ugly contest.”

  The ogre thought about that. Forrest knew he was thinking, because the unusual effort was heating his head, and huge fleas were jumping off lest their feet get burned. Then he decided to introduce himself. “See me: Orgy.”

  So far, so good. “I'm uglier than you.”

  Orgy Ogre stared down at him. “Ugly faun? 'Tis to yawn.”

  “I'll prove it. Do you have a mirror?”

  Orgy shook his shaggy head. “Mirror lack. Ogre crack.”

  He meant that his face was so ugly that any mirror that reflected it broke. This was a complication. How could Forrest lose a contest if they couldn't compare their faces'! But maybe they could do it with water. “Do you have a pool?”

  “Sure, pool. It cool.”

  “Then let's compare faces in the pool. Then we'll see who is uglier.”

  Orgy considered, and more fleas jumped off. Then he decided. “Me say okay.” He turned and led the way into the castle.

  Forrest followed. He noticed that much of the castle was in ruins. The walls had been bashed down, and the stones were scattered across the floor. The ogre simply kicked them out of the way, not even noticing, though some were pretty solid chunks.

  They came to an inner courtyard where water had collected. It was dirty, but it would do.

  Forrest bent forward so that he could see his reflection. He looked just exactly like a faun. “Ugly,” he said.

  Orgy Ogre bent over. The water quivered and shrank away. Orgy grimaced. The water made waves as it fled to the edges of the pool.

  Orgy smiled. The water turned muddy and splashed right out of the pool on the far side.

  “I'm impressed,” Forrest said. “I was never able to make water do that.

  You are uglier than I am, by far. You must be a legend among your kind.” He was sincere; the ogre had truly impressed him.

  “No, I am merely an average ogre,” Orgy said sadly. “But thank you for the compliment.”

  Forrest stared. “You're not rhyming!”

  “I never did rhyme. No ogre does. It is merely your perception that changed.”

  “But you still look like an ogre to me.”

  “But now you see me as an individual, instead of a monster. You have achieved respect. So you are able to hear me as I am.”

  “I never realized! Do you mean that all ogres are cultured, instead of being stupid?”

  “That depends entirely on your perception.”

  “I was afraid you were going to crunch me.”

  “I was, until you showed that you had discovered respect. We ogres crunch only the ignorant.”

  “This is an education,” Forrest said. “I'll never view ogres the same again.”

  “Excellent. You should have no further fear of us. But why did you come here?”

  “I need your help. I'm looking for the dear horn.”

  “Olio! You wish to trade services.”

  “Yes. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “I'm afraid not. I am completely satisfied. I am sorry you came here for nothing.”

  Forrest had been afraid of this. “I came here with two companions. They remained apart, for fear of getting crunched. They might be able to figure out a service that you need. Then we could trade. Would it be all right if they joined me here?”

  “That depends on their perspective. If they are ordinary, I'll be obliged to crunch them. Protocol., you know.”

  “Suppose I explain to them about respect?”

  “They may not listen. Most folk are sure they know the nature of ogres.”

  “But if I can make them understand?”

  “Then they will be welcome to the hospitality of the castle.”

  “Let me go fetch them. Maybe we can do each other some good after all.”

  “As you wish. Meanwhile, I shall return to my bashing.”

  As Forrest walked out of the castle, Orgy Ogre waded into the nearest wall, bashing it into rubble with his two hamfists. The whole structure shuddered. Such was the ogre's ferocity that it was a wonder that any of the castle remained standing. Forrest realized that this was the sound he had heard before, when he stood outside the door. No wonder it required the bell-weather to get the ogre's attention. .

  He went out the door, which remained open. But it swung closed once he was clear; apparently it was set to let visitors out, but not to let them in. So it was a magic door. He departed the bleak castle environs, and walked on across the blasted terrain to where the two fillies stood. They looked amazed and relieved to see him.

  “You may enter the ogre's den,” he said. “But there is a caution.”

  “That's a severe understatement,” Cathryn said. “Are you sure it's safe?”

  “It will be safe if you have the right attitude.”

  Both mares looked at him doubtfully. “How can attitude save a person from being crunched by a monster?” Imbri asked.

  “You have to leave your prejudice behind, and have proper respect.”

  “For an ogre?” Cathryn asked incredulously.

  Forrest realized that there was a problem. “He's really a very cultured creature. You just have to see him as such.”

  The two mares exchanged a Significant Glance. “I suppose even a stink horn has its culture,” Imbri remarked to no one in particular.

  They were locked into their prejudice. He had to get rid of it, or it would not be safe for them to enter the ogre's den. “Remember how you viewed me, at first? As just another faun looking for a nymph to chase?”

  They nodded.

  “Do you still view me that way?”

  “No,” Cathryn said. “You have a lot more character than I originally supposed.”

  “So can you appreciate that originally you were operating on prejudice?”

  “Nonsense! Centaurs aren't prejudiced.” Then she reconsidered. “But I'm very young now, so maybe you do have a point.”

  “So can you appreciate that the ogre may have qualities to be respected, if you viewed him without prejudice?”

  “An ogre?” Then she heard herself, and laughed. “You wouldn't be teasing a centaur foal, would you?”

  “No. I am serious. It is a matter of life or crunching. The ogre doesn't crunch those who respect him.”

  Imbri was having her own problem. “Respecting an ogre is an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms. They are sheer brutes.”

  “Then respect his brutishness. But see him as worthy in his own right.”

  “Well, I suppose I can make the effort.”

  “So can I,” Cathryn said. “Even if I do get crunched.”

  They walked back to the castle. They
came to a stop before the great door. “Now remember: he's an individual. You will know this by his speech: it doesn't rhyme.”

  “All ogres speak in stupid rhyming couplets,” Cathryn said.

  “No. They are merely heard that way by ignorant outsiders. If you hear him rhyming, don't speak, because he'll know you don't respect him.

  “This is weird,” the centaur said.

  Forrest picked up the rod and banged the bell-weather. The fierce little storm formed, and the commotion summoned the ogre to the door.

  This time all three of them were sucked inward by the swoosh of air. The ogre stood there, as huge and brutish as ever.

  “Orgy, these are my friends Mare Imbrium and Cathryn Centaur,” Forrest said. “Mares, this is Orgy Ogre, master of this castle.”

  “Hello, Orgy,” Imbri said bravely.

  “Likewise,” Cathryn said, looking as if she were ready to spread her wings and fly away.

  “I am glad to make your acquaintance, fair mares,” Orgy said graciously.

  Imbri hesitated, then smiled. “And I yours, ugly ogre,” she replied.

  But Cathryn kept her mouth shut. Forrest knew that was trouble. Orgy stared down at the centaur. “Please repeat what I just said to you,” he requested.

  Cathryn took a step back with each hoof, looking twice as nervous as before.

  “But all he said was-” Forrest began, but stopped when a severe glance from the ogre cut him off. He realized that this was a test the centaur had to pass on her own.

  “You said 'Who cares, she mares?” she said. Then, after half a pause, she reconsidered. “Wait, that isn't quite it. You said-you said you were glad to make our acquaintance, and you called us fair mares.”

  Forrest breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Then welcome into my castle,” Orgy said grandly, and led the way down the hall.

  “You're right,” Cathryn inuri-nui-ed as she walked beside Forrest. “He doesn't- rhyme, when I listen with an open mind.”

  Forrest noticed that one of the walls he had thought was in rubble was actually solid. Maybe this was a different passage, though it seemed to be the only one available.

  They came to a central hall that had some spare furnishings. “You must be hungry,” Orgy said. “Come sit at my iliagic table.”

  Actually the rough-hewn tree-trunk timber table was way too big and high for any of them. But the ogre found blocks to put on the seats of the huge chairs, for Forrest and Imbri, and gently lifted them up so that they could sit at the level of the table. Cathryn was able to stand on her chair so that her head was high enough.