This ogre wasn't dead yet, but he was dazed.
Severely so.
The ogre staggered forward, then back, then forward again. Soth followed his path for a few moments, then decided he'd had enough. With the ogre so incapacitated, it was a simple matter to run the beast through with his sword.
When the fallen ogre was lying still on the ground, Soth moved forward to take a better look at the creature.
He took one step… And was sent hurtling forward by a heavy blow to the small of his back. As Soth tripped over the fallen blackhaired ogre, he realized he'd forgotten about the redheaded one sleeping on the other side of the log. When Soth hit the ground, he did his best to roll and rise up to his feet, but several of his ribs were bruised and any sudden movements sent pain shooting up through his body.
Yet despite the pain, he somehow made it onto his feet and managed to turn and face his attacker.
Thankfully the red-headed ogre was the smaller of the two. But even so,
Soth would have been hard-pressed to defeat the ogre at the best of times. Now, with his bruised, or perhaps even broken ribs, the ogre would prove to be more than a match for him.
"The forest is full of Knights of Solamnia," said Soth, hoping to scare the ogre off and avoid having to fight him at close quarters. "If you turn and run now, you'll be able to leave this forest with your life."
The ogre simply laughed, a loud mocking call that boomed through the woods. Soth said nothing, hoping the ogre's laugh would rally the knights around him.
But as the seconds passed, Soth began to get the feeling that he was alone in this fight. Very well then, he thought, raising his sword to confront the beast.
The ogre also carried a sword, one that was slightly wider and longer than Soth's own. Usually this would put Soth at a disadvantage, but it appeared that the ogre was unable to wield the weapon without the use of both hands, which might be enough to tip the balance in Soth's favor.
"Only one way to find out," he muttered, moving forward to confront the beast.
Almost at once their swords came together, clanging and singing as they banged and scraped against one another with each mighty blow. Soth quickly realized that it would be impossible for him to match the ogre blow-for-blow.
Instead he began moving left and right in order to avoid having to counter as many blows as possible. Soon the ogre began to tire, his movements becoming wilder and wilder with each progressively sluggish swing of his sword.
Frustrated, the ogre held his sword before him and charged at Soth, most likely hoping to get close enough to render their swords useless and to force them to switch to wrestling and barehanded fighting. Needless to say, Soth wanted no part of that, given that he was in no condition to try and kill an ogre with his bare hands.
So, as the ogre came toward him, he ducked down to the ground, falling on his hands and knees and turning himself into an obstacle too large for the ogre to avoid.
Soth winced in pain as the ogre's heavy shins slammed into his side, but the tactic had paid off. Like a tree cut off at its stump, the ogre began to fall.
By the time the beast hit the ground, Soth was already on his feet towering over him. The ogre was dazed by the fall and had even cut himself by falling on top of his own blade. The wound wasn't enough to keep him down however, and Soth had to quickly see to it that the ogre would never be getting up again.
He clasped both hands around the upturned hilt of his sword and drove the point of his blade downward with all his might, through the ogre and into the soft ground beneath him.
The breath came out of the ogre's body in a whoosh, and then all was silent.
All except for… Soth listened closely for the faint sound.
There was a low moan coming from somewhere nearby.
He looked at the elf-maid the dark-haired ogre had laid upon the ground, but she was nowhere to be seen.
More than likely she had run from the scene as soon as she was able.
Who, or what then, was making the sound?
Something caught Soth's attention, a slight movement in the left corner of his field of vision. There seemed to be another maiden, this one fair-haired, lying on the other side of the large fallen log.
Soth pulled his sword from the ground and turned to investigate.
At first he feared the woman dead.
Her face was pressed hard against the forest floor and all he could see was the dirty blond hair that covered the back of her head and shoulders. Her body appeared to be still and without breath. For a moment, Soth cursed the ogres for their deeds, but then came the familiar moan.
Quickly, Soth leaped over the log and rolled the elfmaiden gently onto her side. Then he removed his leather gauntlet from his right hand and wiped the dirt and humus from the maiden's face with the tips of his fingers.
Even through the dirt and grime that remained on her visage, Soth could see that she was utterly beautiful.
Anger at the ogres flared within him once more as he thought about what the ugly brutes had done to this lovely, innocent flower and her companions.
He removed the gauntlet from his left hand and eased her body off the ground, sitting her upright against the log. Her body was thin and limp beneath her flowing pale green and brown robes. Still, despite the fact that she was barely heavier than a handful of down, Soth had the feeling she was a very strong woman.
When she was finally sitting comfortably Soth brushed more of her face clean, marveling at the prominence of her high cheekbones, the delicate points of her ears, and the softness of her goose-white skin, skin that had unfortunately been marred in spots by bruises and scrapes.
She was breathing easier now, yet still unconscious. Soth reached down around his waist and opened up a small pouch. Inside was a mixture of sharp and pungent herbs that Soth had used many times to awaken knights who had been knocked unconscious by a blow to the head.
He took a pinch of the mixture and held it under the maiden's nose. When she did not stir, he rubbed the herbs between his fingers, releasing a sharp new aroma into the air.
Finally she jerked her head away. Slowly, her eyelids began to rise.
After several false starts, her eyes finally fluttered open. They were hazel in color, indicating to Soth that-considering the color of her hair and complexion of her skin-the party of elf-maidens on its way to
Palanthas had probably originated in Silvanesti.
She turned her head to look at him… And Soth felt his heart begin to pound beneath his breastplate like that of a squire sneaking a peek through the window of a lady's bedchamber.
She was strikingly attractive, her beauty perhaps even rivaling that of
Lady Korinne. But more than simple beauty was the air of nobility and grace she exuded, a quality that refused to be dulled, even by coming into contact with the rough and jagged edges of the ogres.
"Are you all right?" Soth asked softly, a little surprised to find his mouth dry as dust.
"Yes," she said, the word sounding slightly melodic, as if it had been plucked from the middle of a verse. "I think so. Who… who are you?"
Soth eased one knee onto the ground and placed his arms on the other. He slipped off his helm and said, "I'm Lord Loren Soth of Dargaard Keep,
Knight of the Rose."
She smiled at him and said, "You saved my life."
Soth opened his mouth to speak, but words would not come.
He gently helped the elf-maiden to her feet and began to lead her through the forest toward the clearing where he expected to find both the knights and maidens gathered.