Page 71 of Ogres Don't Play
Had Rook done an adaptation of the city’s theme? Trumpets came in, sweet and pure then twisted into a tangle of notes that clashed perfectly with the pulsing cellos. Those were elves playing those cellos. Angels on the horns. Where had he gotten so many musicians? Not that Singsong City didn’t have some musicians, but not like this. This was the best in the world playing a song by the best composer, and if I wasn’t wrong, he was conducting.
Strength and energy went through me as the music built. I moved with the music, force, power, complexity, dodging her blows much more effectively before moving in with slashes at that massive neck. She couldn’t touch me while I moved with the orchestra. And then I tripped on her forgotten battle axe and fell flat on my back, knocking the wind out of me.
She picked me up with a roar and bashed me down against the ground, right next to the ghost who was still staring at the horn. I snagged it up, and then when I got the chance to bring up my sword and hack into her neck, I twisted around instead andleapt up, shoving that horn deep into her eye while the music crescendoed, giving me strength and will as I buried the horn deeper through those tough tissues.
The shock on her face was priceless as she jerked to a stop, then fell to her knees, staring at me while blood and vapour welled out of her eye socket.
“Crazy angel. You beat so bad to fake chop neck?” Blood welled out of her mouth. She reached up to pull the horn out, and I chopped off the hand with a scream that came from my belly, an ogre battle cry. She reached with the other hand, and I chopped it off too. Then my blade ignited with heavenly fire and in a crackling blaze of righteous wrath. I swung Hero around and cut the last foot through her neck.
The heavenly fire consumed the ogre blood, heat and flame so bright and hot, it singed my lashes and baked the air in my lungs. Apparently, I’d had air in my lungs.
But not for long, because I’d unleashed heavenly fire on the earth and had no idea how to stop it.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Aflaming chicken struck me, throwing me back like a cannonball, away from the fire, clucking wildly all the way. Of course, because we needed a flaming chicken to add to the chaos. How could I stop the fire? I wasn’t supposed to be able to draw heavenly fire. My soul and blood weren’t pure enough. But there it was. Apparently, music trumped everything.
A falling ball of white light came down right into the flames, and then with a few words of pacification, the heavenly flames curled around him until you could see the commander in his shining armor, wings spread and glowing gold as liquid fire dripped off him to the ground. With the orchestration in the background, he was really something.
I sat on the ground, holding Yaga while I stared at the most terrifying person in the world. Yes, I knew, intellectually that he bathed in heavenly fire from time to time, but it’s not something I’d understood until that moment, when a mortal person commanded flames, and then in the next moment, they were gone, leaving nothing of the troll and her poisonous blood other than an outline showing where she’d been.
“Were you trying to break every single one of your ribs?” he asked, voice like thunder, making everyone in the stadium jump, including me.
“No, sir,” I stammered in a shaky voice. All of me was shaky.
“Stand, soldier,” he snapped.
I scrambled to my feet immediately, dropping Yaga, who flapped her wings around my face until she landed on top of my helmet.
“Tell me the conditions of this duel.”
I stared at him. I was still holding Hero, because my sheath had gotten ripped off me at some point. Conditions of this duel? “Battle to death, winner takes all,” I mumbled.
“Describe the prize more clearly.”
I cleared my throat and tasted blood, so I had to swallow it so I wasn’t spitting in front of the commander. “One betrothal to ogre Rook the Luthier,” I said as crisp and clear as I could. It still wasn’t very.
“Very well. Where is this ogre?” He looked around, and I followed his gaze in time to see Rook leap off the stage where all the musicians had been, and then in the middle of that leap, he shifted into the Magr, landing lightly and then running so fast, so huge, so deadly dangerous until he stopped abruptly on the other side of my father, Commander of the Holy Order of the Swords of Truth.
“Ogre, do you verify this person’s claim?” my dad asked with heavenly fire still burning in his eyes, visible beneath his helmet.
“I do,” Rook/Magr rumbled.
“And will you have this prize?” he asked me, gesturing at the most wonderful ogre in the entire world.
It may have been a concussion, but he looked even more glowingly beautiful than ever, even without the pretty Rook. It took me a few more swallows to keep down the blood beforeI could speak. “I will.” I sounded certain, in spite of being so breathless.
My dad nodded and raised his hands. “By the power vested in me by all that is holy and good, I pronounce you husband and wife.”
The weight of his announcement was a physical blow that took me and Rook to our knees. Wait, what? We were married? That seemed sudden.
“Do you have rings? No? Convenient that I brought some.” My father handed Rook a pretty band that was too small for all of his fingers, then handed me an ogre-sized band in heavenly gold.
I slid it onto Rook’s finger in a daze, but quickly because we had to get this finished so I could go to the hospital. I kept having to swallow blood. That meant internal bleeding. And my armor was still so hot. I’d been baked inside of it. “With this ring, I you do wed,” I said and then the words hit me. I was going to marry Rook? Really? Someone really wanted to marry me? My heart glowed even while everything else ached. Were those the right words? Probably not, but who needed words when they had love? He was so beautiful.
Rook frowned at me, concern in his eyes, along with something hot and sweet. “With this ring, I you do wed.” We were saying it wrong together. Had anything been sweeter? He was going to marry me even though he was ‘He-Who-Runs-From-Women.’