Macster - The Last Dragon

For the next ten minutes she remained frozen against Wolf, listening intently for any out-of-the-ordinary noise. But other than the sound of the brambles moaning and sighing in the wind, all was calm and at peace. No night birds flapped their wings, no wolves howled, no unseen beasts roared or crunched through the thorns. Above she could see the moon well past its zenith, even closer now to the crescent, its horns growing ever sharper and deadlier. Despite its pale light the shadows were immense and deep beneath the branches that screened it, and the midnight vault of the sky twinkled with only a few inconsequential stars.

Slowly turning her head, she half-sat up, making sure not to disturb Wolf, and gazed around. The fire had devoured most of its fuel and now burned low and untended, and the garden was illuminated by only tiny tendrils of flame and sooty orange embers. The moonlight spilled down through the intertwined canopy, bathing the shattered walls and barren earth in rippling shimmers. Across the clearing she could see Red Riding Hood and the Piper, still embracing and asleep. But she did not look at them for more than a few moments, her sight was focused on the sinister blackness beyond.

Something was out there. She could feel it.

Narrowing her eyes, she tried to discern anything, but nothing appeared. She could hear nothing, see nothing, but still she knew something was there. Her eyes began to play tricks on her, and she could not tell whether the looming shadows she saw were twisted brambles or silent figures watching implacably. She could not tell if the moaning of the wind in unseen ruins might actually be the call of some feral creature. She could not tell if the ragged silhouettes vaguely visible among the thorns were dead or dying vegetation, or foreboding symbols of ancient spells.

"Stop it, Virginia," she muttered. "This isn't The Blair Witch Project!"

Yet she could not shake that frightening feeling.

In the midst of this, she finally discovered what it was that had really awoken her--she had to answer a call of nature, now. She chuckled softly, relieved to have something so normal and almost reassuring to focus on. Why was it, she wondered, that heroes and heroines never had to do that in fairy tales or fantasy adventures? Reality struck again.

Carefully, with slow movements, Virginia disengaged from Wolf and tottered to her feet. Looking down, she smiled gently at his relaxed features, wiped clean of the pain and torment and worry that so plagued him when awake. He looked so peaceful, so happy, so...innocent. For a moment she could see the incredible cuteness he must have suffered from as a boy.

Her stomach cramped again, and she sighed before turning and picking her way across the campsite to find a place of privacy among the undergrowth.

She found a suitable spot at the base of a thick bramble, but it took her ten minutes to do the deed, since it was rather awkward to squat and get her pants down when eight months pregnant. By the time she had finished and used the bramble to work herself upright again, she was panting and sweating and very embarrassed. "Well, there was a grand moment for the annals of fairy tale history!" she laughed in spite of herself.

She was on her way back to the campsite when she heard the sound.

At first Virginia thought it might be thunder, the rumble was so low and deep and distant. But then she felt herself sway and knew that whatever was making the sound, it was shaking the ground! Turning toward the west, she peered into the thorns, trying to see what the source might be, but there was nothing visible in the impenetrable blackness. A wind was rising, making the brambles shake and stir, blocking her line of sight and drowning out the rumbles, but then something else came to her, borne on the currents of air--a stench. There was no other word she could use to describe it. It was worse than a cesspool filled with sewage, a mixture of rank sweat, musk, and other bodily fluids she didn't want to imagine, with a healthy dose of rotten food, garbage, and offal. It seemed to hover before her in a miasma, a palpable thing. And somehow it got worse with each passing second.

Slowly she began to back away, icy fear skittering up and down her spine. She never should have come out here alone, no matter what her need for privacy and no matter how much she'd wanted to let Wolf sleep. There was danger out here, and she was completely unprotected.

Not looking where she was going, she tripped on a hump of earth and almost fell, catching herself just in time against one of the brambles. Then she almost fell again, but this time it was because of the quaking beneath her feet. The rumbles were so loud now she could hear them over the wind, and they were easily identified, being too rhythmic and plodding to be thunder. They were footsteps, booming footsteps of some massive creature. And it was coming her way.

Finally throwing caution to the wind, she turned and ran headlong through the thorns, hurdling gullies and dry streambeds with a recklessness and abandon most unusual for an expectant mother, but at the moment she was more worried about the danger her baby faced from whatever was approaching than from the landscape. Every now and then she glanced back furtively to track the beast's progress. At first she could see nothing, but then she began to notice that the brambles and treetops were tossing and weaving--in fact they were toppling! Before her widened eyes the thorns and trunks crumbled, collapsing to the ground as something enormous shoved its way through, heedless of the poisoned brambles. And she could even see it now, a hulking brute with matted hair and bulging, knotted muscles looming against the sky, a dark silhouette barely outlined by the moonlight. It was taller even than the brambles, and showed no signs of slowing down or turning aside. Even at this distance she could hear its heaving breaths, and the odor was nearly overpowering.

Looking ahead, she bit her lip, wondering if it were just the terror of the chase or if she had actually gone farther than she had intended in her quest for a shelter in which to relieve herself, for it seemed to be taking forever to find her way back. But finally she could see the faint light of the campfire, and in a few moments she burst back into the fallow garden where the others were sleeping. "Wolf!"

He woke up at once, scrambling to his feet and crouching threateningly, ready to pounce. "Virginia? What's wrong?" His eyes blazed golden in the darkness, filled with suspicion, anger, and an almost insane bloodlust.

"Wolf...there's...a big...a huge...thing out there!" Virginia couldn't speak between her fear and lack of breath. "And it's coming this way!"

Sniffing the air, Wolf snarled fearsomely. "Ogre! I smell ogre!"

"Ogre?!?" Oh great. Just great. Ogres were like giants, they ate humans!

But Wolf was ignoring her, having hurried to Colin. "Piper-boy, wake up, wake up!" The prince was groggy and not really paying attention, but Red Riding Hood sat up immediately. She trembled as she stared at the path of destruction forming through the thorns. Then she grabbed the Piper's shoulder and hauled him bodily to his feet, shoving him along after Wolf, who was gesturing wildly as he ran. "Virginia!"

She realized she'd been standing there frozen like an idiot and dashed after them. Together the four pounded pell-mell through the brambles, dodging back and forth between the branches, until they emerged back on the broad, open road. As they turned back toward the still distant castle, she understood that there would be no intertwined brambles for the Piper to unweave with his magic, so they could run unhindered, following a clear path to safety.

A clear path the ogre, in turn, could follow to them.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, the ogre burst through a vast wall of thorns onto the road and bellowed incoherently. He was colossal, nearly a hundred feet tall and immensely built, with shoulders and chest like a granite mountain and legs and arms like aged redwood trunks. He wore only ragged, stained breeches, a leather vest, and a horrifying scowl. And as soon as he saw them, the ogre flexed his hamhands and leaped after them on dirty, gnarled feet.

Virginia whirled and saw that the Piper and Carmine were many yards ahead, not having paused as she and Wolf had, and the prince had his arm around the queen, guiding and supporting her along the rutted, sunken road. Moonlight streamed along the earth, illuminating the way as Virginia ran, holding one hand protectively over her stomach. She could barely stay upright under the assault of earthquakes, which only grew more pronounced and frequent as the ogre gained on them. He was massive and lumbering, moving very slowly, but on their scale, with his incredible strides, that was enough to allow him to catch up with ease.

And then it happened. As another onslaught of rumbling waves washed over them, the road humped up and Wolf tripped, sprawling heavily on his face. Shrieking his name, Virginia slid to a stop and leaned down to help her mate up, but just as she dragged him free of the developing cleft, the ogre was upon them. Blocking out the moon and stars, the creature bent down, his toenails digging into the soil to halt his progress as he swung one huge fist. Wolf was thrown aside...and then the ogre smiled down at her, his lips parting like a fissure, steaming meat-flavored breath blowing out like a sulfurous fumarole.

He reached down toward her, and if she had thought his smell was bad before, she could barely stand it now--so strong and revolting it made her eyes water. Closer and closer his grotesquely ugly face leaned, eyes like full moons, crooked teeth festooned with gobs of meat, and bulbous nose dripping and wet with mucous. A neck so thick and short it could barely be seen...arms so slow and heavy, packed with powerful muscles so large and hard, that they exploded with the pattern of cords covering them under the thick skin and black, crisp hair. One fist opened, revealing bark-like calluses and yellowed, jagged nails with huge furrows of dirt and dried blood under them, and then it lunged at her, catching her in its sweaty grip.

Virginia screamed.

Wolf rolled over and over across the ground, growling and snarling impotently, until he landed solidly against a bramble. Ignoring the pain that flamed up his back, he whirled and flipped effortlessly to his feet, baring his fangs at the ogre. The odor was so appalling and sickening at this close range, to his keen wolf nose, that he almost passed out, but he had no time to adjust or even grab a handkerchief to cover his nostrils. That despicable, nasty creature had his dreamy, creamy Virginia!

Bounding forward, he leapt at once onto the back of the ogre's hand before he could even lift it more than a few feet. His claws and teeth ripped at the horny, wart-covered skin, wildly trying to draw blood, inflict pain, anything to make the beast drop her. But it seemed impervious. The ogre grunted in surprise, looked down at him with something akin to the contempt Wolf would have for a flea, and then shook his hand violently, even as he kept a firm hold on his prize.

He tried to hold on, he really did, and he even reached out to clasp his mate's flailing hand, but after five minutes of this awful treatment, his hands loosened and he went flying, sailing through the air and crashing into a massive bramble. Luckily for him it was standing deadwood and shattered to pieces without permanently damaging him, but he did have a long way to fall to the ground--and he landed with one ankle turned awkwardly underneath him. He howled in pain.

By the time he was able to latch onto a protruding branch and haul himself to his feet, whimpering and dashing away tears, the ogre was already tramping and stomping down the road, very proud of himself if the set of his shoulders was any indication and tunelessly humming an ogre stew-song. He was nearly all the way back to the place he had crashed through onto the road--and he still had Virginia with him.

Wolf watched until the beast was out of sight, then howled and slammed his fist recklessly into the thorny trunk beside him. He was still pounding away when Carmine and the Piper arrived to stand and watch helplessly, horrified expressions on their faces. "Wolf!" Colin cried at last, snatching at his shoulder. "That won't help! We have to go after her!"

He snarled and took a swipe at the prince. It felt very good to give in to that desire, just as it felt good to see the look of fear it prompted. "No, really? Give the princey a medal for stating the obvious! I thought we'd just let her get all nice and cooked and ready to eat! How's that sound to you, huh?" He couldn't begin to express the anger he felt--even if he had to admit it was meant more for the ogre and for himself--and so he degenerated almost immediately into all sorts of wolfie curses, some so vile they made his companions blanch.

The Piper recovered his wits after a few moments and grabbed Wolf again, his expression hard and firm. "Forgive me, all I thought to do was offer my aid in helping rescue the fair damsel. Perish the thought!"

Red Riding Hood nodded as well. "Indeed! We simply cannot let her be...be...eaten!" She shuddered in revulsion.

Wolf stared at them, so overwhelmed by his anger and disbelief that he couldn't speak. What were they thinking? Did they truly imagine he'd ever ask for help from them? He was no gullible shepherdess; he knew exactly what they were like inside. Just because he had sworn off revenge on Red and promised to try and see things from her point of view didn't mean he trusted her. And just because the Piper had saved them before didn't mean he'd let him help now. What use would he be against an ogre anyway? Or Red for that matter?

"We?" he managed to snarl at last. "We? I don't think so. I'm going to rescue Virginia, and I'll do it alone!" He turned to stalk after the ogre--and howled in agony, collapsing on one knee as his ankle gave way.

"I see." Colin crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Yes, you seem quite able to do it on your own." Sighing, he came to Wolf's side and offered a hand.

"I'm just fine!" Wolf snapped. "Never better! Just help me up and get me back to camp." It galled him to depend on Colin for anything, but at the moment he really had no other choice. Hopefully his sprain would heal enough in time for him to head after Virginia. If not, he would have to grit his teeth and bear it like a good wolf.

Between the two of them, Red and the Piper managed to support Wolf as he limped back the way they had come. When they at last reached the garden, they discovered a gigantic footprint where the campfire had been, the flames doused, the wood crushed, and all of their food smashed into the dirt, but luckily the pack had escaped unscathed.

As Wolf knelt beside it and rummaged inside for the Troll King's shoes, the Piper eyed him skeptically. "You still plan to do this by yourself?"

Glaring up at the prince, Wolf growled. "Let me see if I can explain this to you, Piper-boy. Virginia is my mate, not yours. It's up to me to save her, not anybody else, and I'm not going to let you or Red interfere. I don't need you, I never have, and if you'll just stay out of my way, I'll go and fetch her and everyone'll be satisfied. Understand?"

Staring in disbelief, Colin and Carmine returned equally dumbfounded looks, and then the Piper managed to snap a reply. "Perfectly. So what are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

"You stay here and guard Red, that's what." Wolf sniffed dismissively and rose, carrying the shoes in his hands. Nerving himself, he moved as quickly as he could to the edge of the clearing, putting only the barest of weights on his injured ankle. Hissing softly, he paused at the start of the brambles to look back and make sure that his companions weren't following him. Thankfully they weren't; Red had sat down on the garden wall, and the Piper stood watching in a mixture of admiration and frustration. Wolf pointed at the queen. "Watch her now. Don't worry yourself too much. Wouldn't want anyone thinking you're a sheep. I'll be back soon."

Before he could hear whatever insulted words Colin could muster, Wolf turned and headed off on the ogre's trail.

His keen wolf nose picked up the scent easily, although he knew he'd be able to smell it even if he were only a normal human rather than an enhanced one. And in any case, there was a clear path to follow, made up of gargantuan prints and the wreckage of brambles and thorns ripped apart by the creature's passage. You didn't have to be a Huntsman to follow this trail. Wolf winced at the unpleasant memories that thought brought up--knives, crossbows, cold pale eyes with no remorse or mercy--and returned to contemplating the shattered brambles, only to find himself hard-pressed not to imagine the ogre bashing his way through the barrier with the hand that held his beloved Virginia.

He made very slow progress thanks to his ankle, half-hopping along the path, and he knew this was only the start of his troubles, since his injury would hamper him in any confrontation with the ogre. Not that a full frontal assault was in the works, he'd seen how effective that had been. But what would he try instead? For the first time he began to regret his impulsive nature. He'd gone off half-cocked, with only a vague plan in his mind--no, correction, with no plan at all in mind. He had simply been determined that it would be he this time who would save Virginia, not the Piper. And however well-intentioned that oath had been, it wasn't going to miraculously effect a rescue.

Wolf whined pitifully. His father had always warned him not to be so impetuous, but it was how he was made. I cannot help what I am! I just had to rescue Virginia myself, I just had to! But how? Finding the lair would be no problem, it could not be far. Sneaking in would be as easy as huffing and puffing thanks to the shoes. But the ogre was so strong, so humongous, there was no way he could defeat it single-handedly. Perhaps he should have accepted the Piper's offer. But no, his pipe could not control a beast so dumb and relentless. And the ogre had magic of his own, if the stories were true. He could transform himself into anything. Only another creature of magic could contend with him...

Something clicked momentarily in his fevered mind. "Of course!" he cried aloud, excited by the prospect. "Why didn't I think of it before? The dragon! He can help me, he can fight the ogre, he can--" He broke off, his spirits sinking as his mood swung to despair. "But oh no! I don't know where he is! I could never find him in time, not if I want to save Virginia from the pot..." He tore at his hair and gnashed his teeth. That wasn't even the worst obstacle. He knew with a terrible certainty that the dragon would most likely listen to no one but Virginia herself, if even her.

Maybe the ogre would be distracted and he could get his precious sweetheart out without him being the wiser.

"Oh, huff-puff!" Wolf scratched rapidly at his temple.

For the next half hour he limped as fast as he dared along a path littered with broken limbs and churned earth, circling around and between the immense footprints and losing valuable time as he did so. All the while, as he pursued the ogre, sustained only by his love for Virginia and his faltering hope that some brilliantly clever plan would present itself before the confrontation, Wolf tried to increase his speed gradually, testing the limits of his injury. To his relief, at least one thing started going right--the throbbing pain was fading, and as time passed it became manageable, then barely noticeable. By the time he began to hear the pounding strides of the ogre again, his ankle barely twinged. Still, he knew that it would not be a good idea to overexert the joint or do any fancy footwork.

Ahead, through the trees and thorns, he could see the land rising sharply into a rugged, barren hillside, almost a small mountain shrugging its way through the canopy, creating a stark outline against the starlit sky. Twisting and winding along the crumbling face was a massive ledge, fully wide enough to allow the passage of a giant, and halfway to the summit was a cave opening. Inside a fire had to be burning, for a hellish crimson glow flickered and danced on the inner walls. And a gigantic silhouette blocked out a patch of the light, a sihouette that matched precisely the humped, muscled shape of the ogre. Even from here he could hear the creature's brutish voice, laughing and muttering indecipherably.

Suddenly angry all over again, Wolf narrowed his eyes, clenched his fists, and emerged from the trees in grim purpose.

Very slowly he crept--to soothe his ankle, to avoid any unfortunate noises, and to give himself time to think and cudgel his brain for a plan--until he found himself just outside the cave, whose mouth yawned as broadly as a canyon. He was grateful for the light within, as otherwise entering would have made him feel he were descending into the throat of--well, of a dragon! Running his hand through his hair and licking his lips nervously, he nudged around the corner and peered inside.

The cave, despite its height and width, was not really very large, extending back for perhaps twenty feet, and the ogre's bulk added to its cramped appearance, but the undulating flames made the walls seem somehow translucent, ephemeral and permeable, as if it were larger than it seemed. The ogre himself sat crouched upon a great boulder, gazing down unwaveringly and possessively at something between his widely spread legs as he picked at his rotten, blackened teeth with what looked like a femur. Other bones were scattered around the lair, Wolf now saw--human, mostly, but some were Dwarven, easily identified by their stature, while others still had the remnants of Elven wings attached to the shoulderblades or the misshapen, blocky skulls of Trolls. There were even, he saw with surprise, a few skeletons with the overly-long tailbones that marked them as wolves. Many of the bones were very old, dusty, and dry, while others still had juicy strips of meat clinging to them, and pieces of rusted armor and weaponry lay scattered amongst them. Beyond the ogre, at the back of the cave, was a huge iron cauldron set upon the cooking fire. Steam rose from its depths, and the smells emanating from it were fetid and rank, only adding to the insufferable stench that filled the cave at these close quarters.

Between the ogre's legs, trapped within a wooden cage, was Virginia.

Even as he cursed the ill fortune that had befallen them--he could not very well traipse in there and whisk his mate away directly under the ogre's ugly snout, even while invisible, now could he?--Wolf was assessing the situation more rationally. The cage was composed of roughly stripped logs lashed together with what looked like sinew, very knobby and twisted and looking quite unbreakable. There was no door or any opening at all except for those between the bars, no lock to pick, and the floor beneath it was solid stone, so he could not dig his way in to Virginia, even had he the time and tools. It rather looked as if the ogre had simply plunked the entire cage down over his poor little sausage--no, he mustn't think of her as something to devour, especially at a time like this!

It was clear this rescue was not going to be as easy as he had hoped, and he hadn't even thought it was that easy to begin with. Once again he realized he should have accepted the Piper and Red's help. At the very least they could have provided a distraction. Now he was all alone, and there was no time to go back for the others, not when the stew was obviously about to start boiling. He had to do something now, himself.

But what?

As he considered and tossed aside possibilities, Wolf slipped into the cave on silent feet. Closer and closer he drew, more and more details becoming clearer--the enormity of the ogre's massive body; his gnarled bare legs covered with hair, dusty and filthy as no other part of him; his fleshy chapped lips parted in a gruesome grin beneath his mop of sweaty black hair; the saliva drooling from his mouth to pool before the cage; Virginia's stricken and nauseated expression as she gazed upwards.

Then, when he was only a few feet away from the awful scene, the ogre did something that made Wolf's heart leap in excitement--he rose to his feet. "Meaty she, wait for me," he growled in a voice only a Trolline could love, grating and rumbling as if he gargled on razors and rocks. "Stir pot, get hot. Then you simmer for me dinner." Chuckling at his joke, the beast turned and stomped back to the fire, grabbing a long metal ladle and using it to churn and mix the brew, displaying a shocking indifference to the heat that would surely start to fill the implement in his leathery hand.

Wolf knew an advantage when he saw it. Stopping only to put on the magic shoes, he entered the concealment of invisibility--and gained the element of surprise. Hurrying to the cage, but careful not to scrape the bejeweled leather of the shoes on the rock, he knelt beside Virginia and debated a moment before he whispered, barely audible at all. "Virginia?"

She started, but had the presence of mind not to cry out. "Wolf? Is that you?"

He nodded, realized she couldn't see him, then said, "Yes, of course. Did you think I'd let you go unrescued, my darling damsel in distress?" He chuckled.

"Nevermind that, Wolf! Just get me out of here! He's going to...to...eat me!" She glanced fearfully over her shoulder toward the pot, and he could see her visibly tremble.

She didn't have to ask him twice. "Is there any way you know of to get you out?" he hissed as he half-rose and began running his hands over the heavy wooden bars.

Virginia shook her head. "No. You just have to lift it."

If he hadn't been invisible, he would have given her a very annoyed and put-upon look. Easier said than done! Did she think he was a musclebound wolf? He was much stronger than ordinary men, but he wasn't that strong. The cage was made out of tree trunks, he saw now, and had to weigh at least three hundred pounds. Still, he knew he had to attempt it. Perhaps, with a little assistance from her...

Looking back surreptitiously over his shoulder at the busily stirring and humming ogre, who still had his back turned, he turned his back to the cage, bent his knees, and half-knelt so he could get his fingers under the logs lashed to the bottom edge. He felt Virginia press up against him, mimicking his position, and then he tensed his muscles, gritted his teeth, and pulled.

At first nothing happened except for the cage and Virginia vanishing into invisibility, which did not help him judge his success, and all he felt was the veins standing out on his forehead the way they did when he tried to resist the Change, while sweat broke out all over his body. Then slowly, very slowly, the cage shifted and began to move. He could hear Virginia try to quiet her whimpers as she too struggled, and between them the wooden barrier started to rise...one inch...two...four...he paused to gather his strength and take another deep breath...

It was at that moment, with the worst timing possible, that the magic shoes chose to give out.

The multicolored swirling lights of the vortex darted and skipped madly in the air around him, and he could not hold back his groan of defeat as his feet and legs appeared before his eyes. What had gone wrong? The shoes had had a decent rest since Incarnadine... Then he knew. How stupid could he have been? The cage had exhausted the magic, it was too large for the spell to mask. Jerking his head in the direction of the ogre, he saw his worst fears realized as the beast turned to stare suspiciously toward the front of the cave, alerted either by his groan or the sparking glitter of the shoes. Dropping the red-hot ladle with a clatter, he roared deafeningly. "No go! You steal me meal!"

Wolf let the cage drop in his fright, but luckily Virginia pulled her hands free in time as it slammed to the rocky floor. Vacillating frantically, he looked for a place to hide or a weapon to use, but there were no alcoves and none of the fallen swords and axes were near enough--not that they would do any good. He backed up as rapidly as possible, but the distance was too far and the ogre was already lumbering toward him, almost upon him, his great shadow and even greater stink preceding him.

"Oh, cripes!"