Page 12 of The Fae King's Labyrinth

The ogre grunted and lumbered forward, his torch bobbing with each step.

“Are we going for his knees or—” I turned to ask Azulin, but he wasn’t there. The blue flame continued to burn dimly above me, but I was alone within its glow.

“You’re so slow and bumbling a snail could outpace you, detestable monster.” The pooka set off another distraction spell, trotting closer to the ogre. The monster took a swipe at the pooka, missing when his quarry ran out of reach.

I peered into the darkness to the left as the pooka continued to taunt the monster. “Not even your mother could love such a disgusting face as yours.”

Dimly, I caught movement in the shadows and the faint illumination of Azulin’s sword as he circled behind the giant.

“I’m running out of room, lummox. You giant toad with feet like warty meatloaf.” The pooka darted closer to the wall, andthe ogre’s massive fist came down inches away from the pooka’s hastily retreating boots.

Just as the ogre cornered the pooka, the monster paused and shook himself like a dog. Then, letting out a shout of pain, he dropped his torch. The flames flared briefly, shedding light on the ogre’s frantic attempts to detach Azulin from his back.

The pooka picked up the torch moments before it extinguished completely, scrambling back to make room for the staggering ogre.

Azulin clung to the ogre’s shoulders, one arm partially wrapped around the creature’s neck as he tried to gain purchase with his feet. The ogre roared in frustration and reached back to grab Azulin’s arm, but a moment too late.

Azulin swung out of reach, twisted midair, and landed on the ogre’s shoulder. Then in one smooth jab, he stabbed the creature through the back of its neck.

The ogre let out a squeal of confusion and pain before its bloodshot eyes unfocused.

Azulin yanked his weapon free, leaping away as the giant fell. The ground shook, and suddenly, the stench of rotting meat and spoiled milk increased tenfold.

“Ogre blood is the worst.” The pooka gagged behind his makeshift mask.

I breathed through my mouth, hoping to suppress the odoriferous fumes, but to no avail. My stomach recoiled.

“No way to avoid it,” Azulin pointed out with a grimace as he cleaned his sword with a cloth. When he was done, he incinerated the blood-stained fabric in a puff of flame and smoke. “We should move on before the scent attaches to our clothing and ruins any chance at stealth.” He eyed the pooka’s stolen torch. “Are you keeping that?”

“Of course.” The pooka grinned. “Who knows when I might need some extra light. I don’t have a handy spell like yours to help me.”

“Just keep it away from her and anything of value that might be flammable.”

My stomach still threatened to rebel. Pulling in slow deep breaths through my mouth, I tried to calm it.

Azulin regarded me, concern narrowing his gaze. “Are you well?”

“Obviously she isn’t.” The pooka swung the torch closer to me so that the heat bathed my face, intensifying the nausea. “Humans aren’t supposed to be that shade of green.”

Azulin fumbled with his spell and moments later, he thrust a small, corked bottle under my nose. “Drink it.”

“What—” I clamped my mouth shut lest something happen.

Azulin caught my hand—I ignored the zing of magic—opened the bottle and pressed it into my palm. Leaning over me, he crowded out the pooka and risked getting singed by the torch. “Drink it. It will help.”

Despite my fear that it would only come heaving back up, I swallowed the contents of the bottle in one gulp. An aggressive punch of honey and mint hit the back of my throat and filled my nose, eradicating the stench. In a matter of moments, my stomach calmed and settled.

“What was that?” I asked, offering him the empty bottle.

“An elven draught for stomach illnesses that an acquaintance gave me awhile back.” He studied me. “Are you feeling better?”

I nodded as the pooka circled us.

“Do you have another of those?” he asked. “My stomach is feeling a mite sensitive.”

“No.” Azulin glared at him and turned away to sheath his weapon. “Time to move.”

I gathered up the cloak dragging at my feet and rushed to follow him as Azulin walked around the dead ogre and strode off into the darkness. The light continued to bob along above my head instead of his, which was strange. The pooka—with the ogre’s torch flaming above his head—brought up the rear of our trio.

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