(Book 5) Hayden Mackay and The Pride of Haima-Endira

23.2 Grounded in Reality

"Whoa! Watch out!"

Ashwant grabbed my jacket and veered me down behind the hardened pile of snow. His sudden reaction made me drop on my knees and I grunted when I felt my skin getting scraped against the snow.

The narrow edge of the mountain was filled with hard, rock-like snow mounds. The sky was clear, with the sun peeking down through the summit. Air, icy yet bearable. The warbling sounds of the snow buntings were giving an effect of the spring season. It was one of those mornings that had made me feel ready for the day, although only until we were attacked. I spun around my knees to check on the thing that was hurled at us as a mere threaten to take another step ahead.

It was a typical stone mace, thin at the handle and spherical at the top bearing the sharp spikes all over it.

"Stop! We come in peace," Ashwant said to someone standing at the other side of the heap of snow, someone that was hidden from my sight. He then stared for a few minutes, face straight and expressionless and then slumped his shoulders down before beckoning me to walk over.

"What was that!" I asked, quite irritably.

"Be absolutely attentive," he warned, turning towards me. "This is Pizaca's territory. They are brainless, memoryless, stupidest ogres ever found on earth. They are good only as guards. They have a language of their own and very few of them speak English. And you're lucky enough that Sir Pizaca himself can."

"Thanks for telling me this now," I said, sharply. "Why did that ogre throw his mace at us?"

"Hayden, listen," he said, "I am a Matsyasvi. Pizaca and I are related, so I am allowed inside. You are not one of us. They attack anyone who they don't find as one of us. Understand?"

I grimaced. "So what now, am I not allowed inside? And how come you didn't tell me this earlier?"

He phrased the answer as a sarcastic taunt. "Because you'll keep thinking about this matter which isn't worth the time. I hate to say this, but you've taken the right decision to have me travel with you for this job. I can help you persuade Sir Pizaca to give us the other part of the dagger."

"No!" I protested, "I want to talk to him."

He wetted his dry lips. "I am only saying that I'm not going to leave you alone this time. That jerk for an originator needs someone to put him in his place."

"All these days we've spent talking rubbish. Don't you think I could have used a bit more information about him and make a plan to get the Spine outta him?"

He pulled a face. "Just like I said, it isn't worth thinking too much about it. Walk beside me, act innocent and stay absolutely calm. Don't let the ogres find the slightest hint of trouble."

Down the slope was the wide range of suburb filled with huts built with stones. A single beacon fire marked the entrance. The rest of them were tall and thick logs of fire dug deep into the ground, with flames flickering in the gentle blow of the wind. The place wasn't much of a looker. It was dull and gloomy, yet a bit mysterious in somber sense of black, grey and brown.

I spotted the ogre that threw the mace at us. He was walking towards one of the huts and kept turning back once in a while giving us sneaky glances. Ashwant accompanying me seemed to be the only reason for him to let me ease down the alley amidst the huts.

The ogres were coming out of their huts and eyed us suspiciously. The growling sounds, the menacing stares followed me all the way down to the foothill. Some of these ogres were frying meat and while the others lounged on corners in groups. They were all equally large, bulky and ugly, face pimply and full of rashes. There was barely any difference between the male and female, except the female ones had longer and rounder lashes reaching up to their bushy brows.