The ogre fought off Soth's advances, but eventually began to tire. Soth was able to strike him at will, and took great delight in killing him slowly-wounding him on the shoulder, then the leg, stabbing him in the chest, then the stomach.
The ogre fell heavily to the ground, bleeding but still very much alive.
But Soth showed no mercy, continuing to hack at the body, lopping off limbs and cutting deeply into the flesh, again and again until the once formidable beast was little more than a grotesque lump of gore.
"Milord," said a voice of one of the knights.
Soth didn't hear it.
"Milord!" the knight called again.
Soth continued to stab and chop at the dead ogre.
Finally the knight, Darin Valcic, grabbed at Soth's arm.
"He's dead, milord."
Soth stopped at last, his sword poised over his right shoulder and his breath coming hard and fast.
"There are still others… alive," said Valcic.
"Then let us find them," said Soth, his eyes alight with a dangerously bright glint of rage.
Caradoc stepped quietly through the bush. He'd heard sounds of movement in the distance and was slowly making his way toward their source.
After a few steps he stopped again and listened. It sounded as if someone was breathing hard. Most likely it was an ogre fleeing the battle that was now raging in the center of the village.
Caradoc continued his approach, being careful not to alert the ogre to his presence. Behind him, he could hear the faint footsteps of Wersten
Kern as he came to join him.
Caradoc turned, faced the knight and gestured that he should circle around the back of their enemy.
Kern nodded and headed off through the bush.
When the younger knight was out of earshot, Caradoc continued his hunt of the lone ogre. He'd traveled several more yards and stopped. The sound of the ogre's breathing was heavy and loud. In fact he was so close now that he could almost smell the beast's foul breath.
Caradoc pulled back a branch… And there was the ogre, his back to Caradoc, no doubt watching the village to see if he were being pursued.
The ogre was a large one, a full head taller than Caradoc and with long, wild hair that covered his shoulders and most of his back like a horse's mane. The beast's arms were as thick as Caradoc's thighs and his legs easily reminded one of tree trunks.
Caradoc took a breath and readied his sword. Then he slipped through the few remaining trees and prepared himself for a fight.
And at that moment the ogre turned.
From the look on his face, he was obviously surprised, but no longer inclined to flee. The ogre drew his huge sword and held it before him as he lunged toward Caradoc.
The knight was able to deflect the initial thrust with his shield, but the force of the blow caused a sharp stab of pain to shoot up the length of his arm. Still, Caradoc managed to strike a retaliatory blow against the ogre's naked thigh. It was a glancing blow, but still strong enough to slow the beast down.
After trading several ineffective blows, the two combatants squared off once more, this time as if ready to begin the fight anew.
"Caradoc!" It was the voice of Wersten Kern coming from somewhere deep in the bush.
The ogre turned to face this new threat approaching from behind, and when he did, Caradoc raised his sword and struck the beast in the back of the head.
Dead.
Seconds later, Kern appeared through the bush. When he looked at the ogre lying prone on the forest floor, his eyes opened wide in awe. "Look at the size of him!" "He put up a valiant fight," said Caradoc, standing over the fallen ogre with one foot resting on its chest. "But in the end he proved to be no match for my blade."
Kern looked upon his fellow knight with an admiring eye, obviously not having seen the underhanded way in which Caradoc had felled the beast.
"Well done. Knight Caradoc," cheered Kern.
"Thank you. Knight Kern," Caradoc said, bowing slightly.
There was a moment of silence between them.
"Well, enough of this," said Kern. "This fight is over, but there is still a battle to be won."
"Lead the way," said Caradoc.
The battle in Center Square was brief.
Several of the ogres had fallen during the initial attack, reducing their force to a more manageable number. Then as the battle continued and more ogres fell, the will to fight in the ones that remained seemed to weaken, opening the way for a virtual rout over the loosely knit army of marauding beasts.
And now, bloody ogres littered the square.
Those who had fled the battle had been taken care of by Farold to the north and Caradoc to the south. It was possible that one or more of the ogres had managed to escape the slaughter and would eventually make it back to Throtyl, but Soth wasn't too concerned about that. If an ogre were to reach Throtyl it would mean he would be able to tell the rest of them what had happened to their party, thereby providing an effective warning to those who might try a similar attack on villages within the realm of Knightlund.
There was also a chance that the ogres would attempt to mount reprisal attacks, but their numbers would be no match for an extended war with the combined forces of all the Knights of Solamnia. This had been little more than an isolated skirmish, and now it was over.
Soth wiped his blade clean on a dead ogre's loincloth, then sheathed the sword and looked around to inspect the damage. Except for what the ogres had consumed while they had been in control of the village, most of their booty-the village's store-was recovered intact. A few villagers would be inconvenienced by having to cart their valuables back to their homes, and others would need time to get over the shock of the ogres' attack, but all in all, everything had gone as well as, or perhaps even better, than Soth could have hoped.
Best of all, not one of his knights had suffered a serious injury. Of course, a few of them had suffered cuts and gashes, and others had been bruised by the ogres, but their pains were nothing a tankard or two of ale wouldn't cure.
Soth detected some movement to his left. He turned and saw Farold approaching the Square from the north. "All clear, milord," he said.
"And the villagers?"
"Safe."
Soth nodded and looked to the south. Caradoc was there with Kern. Soth raised his head, as if asking a question of his seneschal.
"No more ogres in the forest, milord," said Caradoc. "If there are, they're halfway to Throtyl by now."
Soth nodded. His chest swelled with pride at the way his knights had handled themselves, but he was also rightly proud of himself for planning a battle strategy that ensured all of his knights would be able to fight again another day. As their leader, this had been one of Soth's prime concerns.
"Well done. Knights of Solamnia," he said loudly.
"Well done, milord!" the knights cheered in unison.
It was a good day to be a Knight of Solamnia.
When they ventured out into their village and found their streets rid of the dreaded ogres, the grateful villagers of Halton insisted that the knights remain in the town for a celebratory feast.
And, after a day and a half's ride and a short, but intense battle, the knights quickly acquiesced to the offer.
For the feast, all types of food-much of it taken directly from what the ogres had pillaged and loaded onto their carts-was served up on tables set up within Center Square itself. Ale and wine poured freely into what seemed to be bottomless tankards, and music and song from the town's finest minstrels and bards gave the night an almost festival atmosphere.
After the meal, the villagers continued to show the knights their gratitude by offering them a number of gifts ranging from heirloom quilted blankets to household bric-a-brac made from precious metals and rare wood. In a few cases the offered gifts included the favors of several of the more adventurous-not to mention attractive-women of the village. The knights, of course, all remained true to the Oath and the