The Black Wing by Mary Kirchoff Page B

within a hundred miles.
     The gray clouds had been chased from sight by a strong, chill wind. Onyx swayed in her
     saddle with each of the mare's steps up the steep, rocky incline. She tried repeatedly to
     listen for any sound from the wagon, but her keen hearing revealed nothing. After a short
     time on the trail, Onyx's entire body ached. She concentrated on the horse's mane, let the
     color and texture absorb all her thoughts. Slowly, the pain in her
    legs diminished. The weight of the armor no longer strained her back or curved her spine.
     Hawks cried out as they circled above the lumbering party. The wagon's wheels creaked and
     rumbled over the frozen ground, occasionally crunching a rock or shattering a frozen
     puddle. Led's horse was perfectly abreast of the two that pulled the wagon under Toba's
     direction. The human's face was impassive, eyes always scanning ahead, his posture in the
     saddle ramrod straight.
    Hours later, as the sun slipped over the western horizon, Led chose a campsite. The spot
     lay near a small pool that was constantly fed fresh water from a swiftly flowing mountain
     stream. Led gave a shrill whistle. The wagon rolled to a stop next to Onyx, the ogres
     behind it. Toba jumped from the buckboard and began firing off orders. The ogres
     established a makeshift camp in the narrow clearing, digging fire pits with their claws,
     while Led's lieutenant unhitched the wagon and posted himself as guard over the precious
     cargo. While Toba was about, there would be no examining the cart to see if Dela were
     inside.
    Led sprang from his saddle and stepped around the wagon to help Onyx from hers. He settled
     the woman atop a large rock, then fished around in his leather pack. “Jerky?” He held out
     a red-brown shriveled strip that looked like animal hide picked clean and left too long in
     the sun. She hes-
    itated, not sure what to do with it. “Better eat while you can,” he said, holding it
     closer to her. Led tore off a piece of the jerky and chewed it vigorously. “It'll be a
     while before Toba gets a fire started and any food cooked.” He noticed then that the woman
     was watching the ogres, who towered over the shouting Toba. “You may not think they look
     like much, but you wouldn't believe where we started with them. No organization at all.
     None of them could even wield a club with any accuracy. They relied mostly on crushing
     opponents to death.” He looked appreciatively at their ten-foot frames. “Not a bad
     technique, either, when you think about it.” “Why do they work for you?” Onyx asked. She
     watched the wiry Toba strike a violet- colored ogre with a club. The creature dug
     marginally faster, a vicious snarl erupting through its pointy green teeth. “I killed
     their chieftain.” Led took a long pull on a wineskin that hung from a frayed string on his
     right shoulder. “They hated him,” he continued, wiping his mouth on the back of his
     fringed leather sleeve. “Blogrut was even greedier than most ogres, driving them hard,
     feeding them little, and giving them less than nothing of what meager booty they managed
     to find. ”We make sure that they're fed regularly, and that each of them gets some bit of
     treasure now and then, even if it's just a shiny button.“ He ducked his head through the
     wineskin string and handed the leather bag to Onyx. ”They're as loyal as any human troops,
     so Toba and I sleep in shifts.“ Within minutes the ogres had scraped out fire pits,
     gathered wood, and started several fires: large ones for warmth and a smaller one for
     cooking. Led pulled some thick blankets from his saddle pack and tossed one to Onyx.
     ”Unless you can sleep through an ogre's snoring, you'll want to bunk down here by my
     fire.“ He dropped his blanket and settled to the ground, leaning against the soft bundle.
     As Onyx did the same, Toba stepped up with three steaming platters of brown stew.