In the Company of Ogres by A. Lee Martinez

Author:A. Lee Martinez [Martinez, A. Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
ISBN: 9780765354570
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2007-04-02T16:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

AFTER LEAVING NED in the garden, Frank was invited to play a game of goblin crush. It was a favorite among those who enjoyed equal parts skill, violence, and luck in their sports. Teams of goblins were arranged on a playing field with miniature terrain. They were given equipment to emulate different military units. And then the players (or generals, as they were called) took turns maneuvering their goblins, either jockeying for the high ground, or attempting to reach a flag, or often just beating the hell out of the other army until all the soldiers on one side were eliminated or the goblins got bored and wandered off.

Goblins generally enjoyed the game. The armaments were largely symbolic, and rarely were casualties real. Although when fatal accidents happened, as they sometimes did, it was the goblins themselves who were most impressed. It took a great deal of skill to brain a thick-skulled goblin with a paper-thin wooden sword.

There were goblin crush courts in use by some royalty that had actual miniature fortresses and rivers and simulated cities, but Copper Citadel’s was an improvised affair. Barrels and plants were placed here and there. There was a high mound of rocks for a hill. It got the job done.

Frank was company champion. He rarely lost. Part of this was due to a natural talent for tactics, partly due to the generally poor skill of his opponents. But the most important part was that Frank bought the drinks for his winning army, which granted his goblins just enough incentive to fight a little better, a little longer. And it held their attention so that usually the other team was the first to wander off.

Presently he engaged Gabel in heated combat, though the game had experienced a brief timeout when all those birds had appeared. Gabel was no slouch in the game. Frank’s army was pinned down behind some barrels, and he was having a devil of a time getting them out of there. He was considering his next move when Gabel observed, almost as if the thought had just occurred to him, although Frank knew better, that Ned had been curiously absent for the past few hours.

“I wonder what happened to him?” said the orc.

“Must be off somewhere,” said Frank.

“Last I saw him, he was wandering away with you, wasn’t he?”

Frank grunted.

“I hope he’s okay,” remarked Gabel.

Frank grunted again. He ordered a unit out in the open, two strides toward more cover. One of the enemy archers aimed true, and a padded arrow socked the unit right in the eye. Frank shrugged. He hadn’t expected it to work. He still had his Ace though.

Ace was a good player, but only if he got to play a behemoth hound or a giant or some other titanic creature. He now sported a pair of wings and a horn strapped to his head to symbolize his current stature as a fire-breathing dragon. He lurked, reptilian, behind some trees, waiting for the order to strike.

Gabel skipped his turn, holding his army in place.

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