Page 64 of Ogres Don't Play

He shrugged and stood. “I’m jealous. Dad would never let me duel anything as interesting as a mountain troll.”

“Because you’re notorious for collateral damage.”

His smile was seriously diabolical. “It’s not fun if no buildings fall down. I’d better get back to the concert. I have about fifty females vying for my attention.”

“At least. Have fun stunning them with your untouchable charm.”

“I don’t suppose you know of any vampire brothels.”

I gave him a flat look. “Seriously?”

He threw up his hands. “You’re facing imminent death, Mira. It’s stressing me out. You know that nothing relaxes me nearly as well as being blood-sucked by a vampire.”

“I think half of your enjoyment is that you’re poisoning them.”

That diabolical smile of his. “At least half.” He grabbed my shoulders and pressed a hard kiss to my forehead before he pulled away and studied me thoughtfully. “You have options. You don’t owe anyone anything. Make your own choice and be fierce as you defend it. If you really want some ogre, be bold about it. There’s no shame in what you are.”

“Which is why you haven’t told anyone.”

“Exactly. It’s not my secret. It wasn’t yours either. It was dad’s, and you know that I will protect him until my dying breath. And you.”

“You’ll protect me from the mountain troll?”

He patted my head and started for the door. “I wouldn’t dream of taking away your fun.”

“Destroying Singsong City isn’t an option.”

He hesitated at the door and winked at me. “Mass destruction is always an option.” And with that, he left me alone to scowl out the glass box. It was as much of an option as going to war with the trolls and the successive massive casualties. At least in a war, those involved had some choice in the matter. Except that trolls devoured everything in their path, if the stories I’d heard about them were true. There were no civilians, only prey when they went to war.

I rubbed my forehead. At least Rich didn’t seem very worried. Then again, he tended to get more relaxed and confident the more dire the odds. It was a good trait for a commander to have. If you were marching to your death, may as well go with confidence. That’s right. If I was going to my death, I would doit with confidence. I turned to the spell on elven armor with renewed focus. There was hope. There was always hope.

Chapter

Twenty-One

Ihadn’t been studying alone for long when Lanise came in with a very stunned look on her face, followed by the tall silvery elf. No way an elf would come teach some iffy musician their spells. Not a chance. That meant that he was here for another reason.

I raised my harp and plucked a chord for a shield that rose up around me while I studied the elf. “Are you my grandfather?” I demanded, preparing to cut my hand and bring my strings to life.

It was the elf’s turn to look shocked. “Your grandfather?” He narrowed his eyes as he studied my harp, the magic I’d woven, like he could see the weave. “You’re preparing an attack on your grandfather? Peculiar. One’s elders should be revered.” He twisted his hands and my shield was pulled out of my strings and melted into the floor, leaving me feeling like my feet had been swept out from under me. He stood with feet apart, hands behind his back as he frowned at me, like an officer addressing his troop. “Now, Mirabel, Music Master of Singsong City, you have requested assistance to defeat the troll, Garnagth, who will crush that shield you had easier than you can crush a fly. Do you have any idea what you’re up against?”

I blinked at him. He’d actually come here to help me defeat the troll? I straightened and lowered my harp. “Her eyes and armpits are the most vulnerable points of contact.”

“Yes, but you won’t have a chance to get to them, because you’re miniscule compared to her. You do have some small music magic, but not nearly enough to hold a shield that can withstand a blow from Garnagth. She’s a dark shaman, you know. Her strength comes from feeding on the lives and souls of her opponents. She isn’t only going to physically devour you, but metaphysically strip you of your life force. Not all trolls are inherently evil, but Garnagth is without a doubt a truly evil creature. She’s also terribly intelligent, as is expected from one who feeds on others. She’s increased in knowledge, size, skill, and intelligence with every meticulous kill she’s made. She’s devoured many elves, some of whom I treasured, which I why I agreed to accompany your ogre companion to assist you, not because I’m your grandfather. Who you think wants to kill you. Why would someone you’ve never met want you dead?”

“Can’t we just stick to the topic of the troll? My relationship with my grandfather is none of your concern.”

He studied me, glanced at Lanise, then tugged a strand of hair out of my head and held it between his thumb and first finger. “No? But suppose that I was your grandfather. If you don’t know who he is, then he could be anyone.”

“Hey! What are you…”

He tied my hair into an elaborate knot and then lit it on fire with a bright pink match that he carried in the small pouch on his hip. I watched as it burned, an elaborate design in bright white that left an afterimage I had to blink away.

When my vision came back, the elven guy was staring at me with the most expression I’d ever seen on an elf. Shock was probably most of his wide-eyed horror.

He blinked a few times, then managed to gather his composure. “Well, I am your grandfather, but I don’t want to kill you. Your mother was a half ogre? That explains the ogres gathering around you like you’re their mascot.” He turned to Lanise. “You, girl, fetch me something to drink, some elven wine that doesn’t taste like swill.”

Lanise looked from me to him, then shook her head and stood resolutely. “Not leave.”

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