"Did I hear that right? You have an ogre problem?" The young man stared down at the villager, an elderly man leaning on a crooked stick. "What has it done? How long has it been happening?"
The elder gazed up at him. One of his eyes was a milky white. "The ogre has been attacking the wagons! Food and supplies for the village are shipped on those wagons. That damned ogre sabotages the roads! Leaving stones and digging ruts to ruin the wheels! Oh! The villager will surely starve come this winter." The old man looked down, sadness in his miss-matched eyes. "So many young ones have fallen..."
The young man stroked his chin in thought. He was low on money and reputation. Slaying such a beast would make him a hero in these people's eyes. "Where can this ogre be found?"
"There's a cave beyond those hills." The old man pointed towards the rolling landscape beyond the opened village gates. "The ogre lives there, but be warned, stranger!" The elder turned his half-blind gaze back up to the young man. "There is a dangerous being blocking the past. Sleek and dangerous, it is!"
"What sort of animal is this beast?" the young man asked, dropping his hand to grip the handle of his long blade. "A giant wolf? A mighty giant? A dragon?!"
The elder shook his head, long silver beard swaying. "Nay. 'Tis but a cat." "A cat!" the young man exclaimed in confusion. "A cat blocks the way?" "This is no ordinary mouser," the elder said. "Its breath can kill a man."
"A cat with bad breath?"
"Worse than bad breath, stranger. Poison it breathes! A cloud in the shades of green spew from its maw. Killed a legion of twenty men before the sun kissed the treetops." A shiver wracked the tiny man's crooked body. "You won't catch me goin' near that pussycat, no sir."
The young man lifted his chin. "I will get past this deadly feline, my good man, and I will slay the ogre." He turned away from the elder. "The people will know the name of Sir Terrence then!"
"Sir?" Something tugged on his traveling bag. Terrence looked over his shoulder. Seeing no one, he fully turned around. Standing behind him was a young girl. She stared up at him with wide blue eyes. "Sir, are you going to kill the o-ogre?"
"Yes."
Her mouth dropped in amazement then she turned to a small group of villagers standing near the baker's stand. "He's going to kill the monster!" she cried.
The villagers whispered among each other for a moment before starting up a volley of "Good luck!" and "Farewell!" They crowded around Terrence, offering pats on the back and handshakes. He felt his chest swell. It was not often this happened to him. For how grateful they were acting, maybe the people would pay him extra.
Terrence stepped out of the crowd. "Thank you, my good people! I will run my blade through this monster and save your village!" With the cheers of the villagers following him, he walked through the tall gates. The path leading away from the village was cobbled stone. Terrence was grateful for the luxury of walking on such a road, much different from the rough dirt paths he had previously traveled.
For two days he walked along the stone path. Nothing remotely exciting happened on the first day, though on the second Terrence did have a run-in with a small wild boar. Terrence emerged victorious in the fight and now had enough pork to last him a week at least.
On the third day, the stone road petered out and a new path made of harsh pebbles lay before Terrence. It was at that moment Terrence realized something.
No birds were singing.
On either side of the road were scattered fields on golden grain. Surely there had to be a bird of some kind among the waving stalks. But no, there was nothing. Only the whisper of the breeze.
Terrence gulped.
For a moment he wondered if he should turn back. Then he shook his head. "I shall not be afraid," he said to himself. "I will not be known as Terrence the Coward!" He trekked on through the unnerving silence. At darkness fell he made camp near the base of a tall bluff. The moon was almost full, giving him adequate light. He leaned back against the moss-cloaked stone.
Skitter. Scatter.
Terrence almost started.
Skitter. Scatter.
A low growl sounded above him, echoing down the bluff face. Eyes wide, Terrence stared ahead, too scared to move. That growl was the first sound he had heard since leaving the stone road.
A loud squawk made Terrence jump.
He heard a scuffle at the top of the bluff.
Suddenly, a shadow soared over him, blocking the light of the moon. A heavy body landed ten feet in front of him with a THUMP!
A large feline stood before him. Black stripes set against a background of pale grey. A tuft of fur bristled at the tip of its long tail. A dead pheasant was hanging from its mouth. Every time it breathed out, it expelled a cloud of pale green that hovered for a moment before dissipating in the moonlight.
Terrence didn't move.
The cat stalked away with its late-night meal.
Even when the beast was gone, Terrence would not allow himself to fall asleep. He greeted the morning with heavy eyes and a still pulsing heart. It was only after the sun was well above the horizon did he hastily pack away his camp.
The thought of abandoning the mission and returning home crossed his mind. But then he thought of his parents. They had laughed at him when he left to become a great hero. Said he would not amount to anything.
Maybe they were right?
No! Terrence would not return to those nay-sayers. He would become a great hero!
A snort had Terrence immediately cowering in the nearest clump of grains. Heart pounding angrily in his chest, Terrence dared to peek over the tops of the stalks.
There! In a lone tree was the cat!
It was stretched on a thick branch. Clouds of poison billowed from its nostrils. Its eyes were closed. A feather from last night's kill was still sticking to its muzzle. As Terrence watch, it snored loudly.
It was asleep!
Terrence felt stupid for a moment.
Everyone knew felines preferred to be awake at night and asleep in the day.
Being as quiet as possible, Terrence started to sneak past the big cat. His eyes constantly darted from the ground to the resting feline, unsure if even the slightest sound would provoke the aminal.
Unfortunately, he had failed to see the small twig that snapped under his boot. It echoed like thunder to his ears. He immediately whipped his head toward the feline.
It was staring right at him!
Its ears swiveled back and forth.
But there was something... off about its gaze.
The eyes of the feline were milky white.
It was blind.
Terrence stood still as stone as the feline sniffed the air. The wind was blowing just to his left, taking his scent with it.
The cat snorted. Then it rested its head on the branch and closed its eyes.
Terrence almost breathed a sigh of relief. This time as he crept away, he kept his focus on the ground. He did not straighten to his full height until the cat and its tree were out of sight. It was only then that he heaved the biggest sigh of relief of his life.
"Well. Now, that was definitely not your ordinary pussycat," he said to himself. "Thank the heavens it could not see." He shuddered as he thought of the bird that he had seen in the large cat's mouth last night. There had been no marks on its body. No ruffled feathers. No blood. Nothing. The cat must have poisoned it with its foul breath. "Such a bizarre creature."
As he walked along the path he became aware of a sound: the bubbling of a stream. Hand reaching for his buckskin water bladder, he hurried forward.
The stream appeared so abruptly Terrence almost fell into the water. His foot had kicked a stone when he came to a halt. It fell in the water with a thick plop. Terrence frowned. Water wasn't supposed to sound like that. He watched as the surface where the stone had fallen started to bubble as if that spot was suddenly broiling.
"Hm."
Terrence picked up another rock and threw it into the stream.
The water seemed to boil for a moment before returning to normal.
"It is bewitched water!"
Terrence looked around. From his standing point, he could see there was no way he would be able to jump the stream; it was too wide. Something in the water caught his attention. Not far from him was a line of flat rocks sticking out of the water, all large enough for him to comfortably stand on them. "Oh, thank the heavens." Terrence peered over the bank at the first rock. It was less than a foot away from the bank. He stepped out onto the stone. "This will be easy!"
The rock gave a sudden jolt, almost sending Terrence into the deceiving waters.
"Woah!" Terrence cried.
He hurried to the next stone.
It also violently shuddered.
Praying to the heavens that he did not fall, Terrence hopped from stone to stone. Each time he set both feet on the rocks, they would try to throw him off.
With a great yelp, Terrence lept off the final stone to the sandy bank on the other side of the stream. He glanced back, panting heavily, and saw that all the stones had settled, returning to their stationary state once more. Terrence hurried away from the stream.
On this side of the water, Terrence noticed a beaten path leading away into the fields of grain. Whatever had made it was larger than himself or any other person he knew. It must be the ogre. Swallowing his fear, Terrence followed it.
As the day wore on, Terrence became more and more worried that he has taken too complex a quest. The elderly man had not mentioned anything about the stream and its broiling waters. For a moment Terrence wondered if the old villager had left out the part about the deceiving stream.
"Nonsense," he scolded himself. "The old man must have feathers in his brain."
When the sun was starting to sink below the horizon, Terrence decided to stop for the night. He set up his camp alongside the path and settled down to a dinner of salted pork leg.
It was when he was stretched out near his small fire then he heard something moving in one of the fields.
Terrence quickly sat up and smothered his fire with dirt. He wondered if the cat had somehow managed to follow him, but this sound was coming from the direction he was going, not the way he had been.
The moon was now plump and shining brightly, allowing Terrence to witness the dark shape that rose from the silver fields like some hideous phantom. It was tall, taller than the toxic feline. No hair was visible on top of its large head. Dark eyes peered out from under a heavy brow. Its large belly stuck out from under a ripped shirt that seemed several sizes too small. Trousers, muddy and torn, covered its thick legs. In its hand was a large tree branch; the end of it was rounded off, creating a club of sorts. But, despite its haggard appearance, upon its broad shoulders was a blood-red cape that appeared to be made of the finest linens. It was fastened around the ogre's neck with a golden medallion.
Terrence crouched down.
"I know you're here, stranger," the ogre called out in a deep, gravelly voice. "I can smell your smoke." The ogre swiveled around to fully face Terrence. "What are you doing here?"
"I - I - " Terrence gulped painfully. "I am here to slay you!" he cried, voice going high pitched with fright.
"Slay me?" The ogre boomed a laugh. It was like thunder. "A human such as yourself? A good joke, you are."
Terrence stood up, hoping the ogre thought he was a lot braver than he felt. He fought back the trembles and reached for his blade. "I am no joke. I am Sir Terrence, and I will slay you. The good villagers are depending on me."
"The villagers?" The ogre cocked its head. Confusion gave some life to its dark eyes. "Those people are cowards. Always sending someone else to do their dirty work." The ogre snorted. "And you call me a monster."
"Enough! You will be slain, and I will be known as Terrence the Ogre Slayer!"
"Terrence the Idiot is more like it."
Terrence pulled his blade from its scabbard and charged at the ogre. The monster lifted its heavy club and swung when he was within range. Sliding to the left and around the ogre, Terrence managed to keep his head on his shoulders. He swung his sword. The ogre screeched as the metal sliced through the fabric of its fancy cloak and into its swinging arm. Brilliant blue blood spurted from the deep cut.
"What have you done?!" the ogre bellowed. Terrence watched the ogre grab its club with its other hand. He noticed the difference in the ogre's grip; the monster had not practiced with its club using its non-dominate hand. With a grunt of effort, the ogre swung its club in a very ungraceful arch. Terrence quickly stepped out of range. "No blade can penetrate my flesh! None!"
Terrence smiled at the ogre. "This is no ordinary blade, fiend! When it was forged, the blacksmith infused silver into the edge. No monster can withstand the might of silver!" Terrence jabbed at the back of the ogre's thigh. The tip of his blade sank easy into the oily flesh.
The ogre dropped to its knees, using its club as support. It was breathing heavily.
For a moment Terrence felt uncertain. This ogre was not putting up as much of a fight as he had hoped. Was there something wrong with it? Had it been ill? Grown elderly? Was this honestly a fight when his adversary was in no condition to fight? Would there be any honor in killing it? Terrence did not know the answer, and, upon staring at the ogre, could not find any clue.
"Just do it."
The ogre's rough voice pulled Terrence from his thoughts.
"Go ahead. Kill me. Claim your glory, Sir Terrence."
Terrence narrowed his eyes. "You're giving up so easily?"
"Why fight a losing battle?" The ogre looked over its shoulder at him. "You are the first to use silver on me. In previous fights, my opponents would fall to my club. None had thought to use a sword like yours." The ogre returned its gaze forward. "You have won, Sir Terrence. Even if I had the strength, I would not be able to catch you now. Not with this metal flowing in my blood. All I ask is to do it quickly."
Terrence did as the ogre requested.
With his task now complete, he started the long trek back to the village. The ogre's head was tied by its hair to his pack. It was a gristly trophy. The golden medallion from the ogre's cloak was in his hand. He studied the strange golden button. It had an engraving of a chimera, a glorious beast of legend. Terrence felt as if he had seen the symbol before, but could not recall.
Terrence walked through the village gates five days later. He would have made it back sooner, but an entire afternoon was spent trying to sneak around the poison-billowing feline. Luckily, the cat had decided a deer was a better target than a young man with an ogre head attached to his pack. Terrence supposed the feline could smell the blood of a stronger monster and did not want to engage.
"You're back!" The little girl was standing at the village gates, her small hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. "You're alive! Everyone, he's alive!"
"He's back! He's back!"
"Did he kill the ogre?"
"Indeed I have!" Terrence took a moment to bask in the praise of the villagers. He felt his chest swell with pride. "Gather 'round, good people!" he called. "For I have slain the beast!" He took off his pack and held it in the air. A collective gasp came from the crowd as the head was shown to them. "He was a mighty adversary, but in the end, Sir Terrence prevailed!"
The elderly man hobbled out from behind a cluster of villagers. "You've done it, lad!" he cried joyously. He turned to the others. "Sir Terrence will always be remembered for his bravery!" He raised a wrinkled hand in the air. "He has vanquished the monster, and now nothing can stop us!"
A loud cheer erupted from the gathered villagers.
Terrence smiled but felt confused. What did the elder mean? Nothing can stop them? From what?
The elder beamed up at him. "Thank you, my lad! That ogre has been trying to halt our operation for months!" He laughed gleefully; Terrence lowered his arm, his bag suddenly feeling very heavy. "Sir Terrence! Your brave act of slaying the king's ogre will be remembered for all of history! You have started a new era!" He raised his voice and cried out, "Sir Terrence!"
His name was echoed throughout the village. But Terrence only felt horror.
The king's ogre?
The king's ogre?!
He had slain the king's ogre.
One of the main parts of the king's defenses.
His mouth dropped open in shock.
The king's ogre had been protecting the palace for well past fifty years. Growing up, Terrence had heard grim tales about the beast that devoured men alive and could level trees with its mighty club. The creature had brought him nightmares as a child. He, like so many, had thought the beast was immortal.
But he had been wrong.
He had killed it.
"Sir Terrence!" The elderly man's crooked grin seemed taunting to him. "You have done it. You will be remembered for starting the greatest revolution of all time! Let us remember the name of Sir Terrence, the Revolutionist!" The old man laughed heartily then brought his gnarled fingers to his lips. His whistle was shrill.
His bag dropped heavily to the ground. Terrence stared, rooted to the spot, as the gates at the opposite end of the village were pulled open. A rather large group of people walked inside.
"Thank you, Sir Terrence!" A young woman appeared at his side. "The ogre's skin would heal itself if a knight was lucky enough to pierce it. Our weapons could not harm it. But you - You have slain it with your magic sword! Thank you. Thank you so much!"
"We shall leave for the palace immediately! The king's counsel will be gathered there in a week's time. Let us be there to greet them!" The elderly man's voice called above the clamor. "Archers will be in front to handle the giant cat! Its hide is not impervious to arrows! It will not stand in our way!"
Shouts and whistles grew even louder.
Terrence could only stare in shock and disbelief as the villagers marched past him.
What had he done?
He wanted to be known as Sir Terrence, the Brave, the slayer of beasts great and small. He wanted his name to go down in history as one of the greatest monster killers the world had ever seen.
Instead, he was Sir Terrence, the Revolutionist, the one who started it all.