The Transfurred Convention

By Steve Corbett

"Master, what is this?"

The teenaged meerkat pointed to a large mirror on the wall. Its worked golden frame was quite large, and one side held a bank of polished metal hemispheres in a double vertical line. Its size notwithstanding, it was quite plain. The archive room was cavernously huge; and held many more impressive items. He knew the room well. Its book lined shelves, its dozens of scroll racks, its many chests and armoires were his duty to clean and organize. Why had he never noticed this thing before?

The elderly skunk looked up from the tomes he was sorting and smiled. "That, Sinor, is the order's greatest artifact." The old priest went back to poking through pile of dusty books. Sinor managed to stay still for nearly ten whole seconds before his curiosity got the better of him.

'Masterrrr; what does it do ?! The slim youth was all but hopping up and down in his frantic need to know ; ankle-length robes flapping as if in a stiff breeze from the nervous energy of their wearer. Master Kervold chuckled and took pity on the acolyte. He had been young and eaten up with curiosity once too.

Shifting his own comfortable, ankle-length robes, the portly archivist got up and strode to the wall where his eager pupil fairly vibrated with impatience at the teachers slow and deliberate movements. Kervold passed his hands over the upper globe, and the mirror lit with a soft glow. Awe struck, the skinny teen actually held still, enraptured by the display.

"This is the Great Mirror, Sinor. It can allow the user to view distant places, and even take things from those places. It has been in our keeping for over two thousand years." The master carefully passed his hand over a globe on the second level, keeping it well away from the others before reaching it, and taking it straight back away after; the movements performed with a practiced care.

The mirror cleared, and showed a view of a courtyard. A door opened, and a brown furred rabbit, clad only in the brief loincloth and steel collar of a slave came out with a basket. She was perhaps in her twenties, and had waist long blond hair. She began walking straight towards the mirror, clearly oblivious to its presence, despite looking right at the viewers.

The meerkat shifted uncomfortably, "Master," he said, looking out the corner of his eye, "Can't she see us?"

The skunk chuckled, "No, the mirror is utterly undetectable from the other side." He passed his hands over another globe with the same care as before. The glass darkened, the image disappearing.

The Cleric turned away from the wall, and began to return to his books. That didn't cut it for the energetic student; supercharged with nervous energy, like all his race, he began to pester the elder for information.

The skunk finally relented good-naturedly. "Sinor, the mirror can bring objects or people through, right enough, but mind you; it charges a price for that service. It takes life energy if you command it to retrieve something. Only a small amount for small things or for people, right enough. So small that you might not even notice- but for anything large, its price can be fierce! As to how it finds a location? you must have been there. That, or have so good a mental picture that it can locate the place you seek. It is said that it can even view other worlds, but no one living has ever tried, so that cannot even be confirmed. As to your other question, you have never heard of it because it is almost never used. The Order does not approve of the abuse of power, as you well know!"

The master rose from his seat and stretched; he was getting on in years, and had a good sized belly. His back also tended to ache when he bent over the tomes too long. "Its only real use for the last several centuries has been to recover goods stolen from the Order. Most don't even know it even exists. Now, I'm off to see about a good massage, acolyte. Clean up the last of the shelves, and then seek mistress Sylvia when you are done, for the evens chores." He turned and opened the door to the chamber. He paused briefly to fix a wise eye on the Meerkat. "And don't play with the Mirror! Its dangerous even for a full lay brother."

The youngster looked solemn as he promised to leave the fascinating artifact strictly alone. The door closed. The junior acolyte looked slowly to the wall, He'll never know, and after all, are we not sworn to seek and expand knowledge?

He rubbed his hands together. A thought suddenly struck him. Other worlds? How would you find a familiar feature, unless you'd already been there? He pondered the question, as his eyes fell on an old painting on the wall. He stared at it as an idea began to form. The picture was of the current mistress of the order. Nude, it had been painted when she had been a young Lioness of astonishing beauty. Now in her fifties, the Grand mistress was still quite proud of that most singular portrait. It was kept here to protect it; the preservative spells that kept thousand year old books from crumbling to dust did just as well to protect the fragile artwork.

Sinor nodded with satisfaction; If he thought of a world, not his own, but with people like his in it- using the painting as the focus guide, well, it should work, right? He stepped up to the mirror, and concentrated.

***** ELSEWHERE *****

" Hey Nick! "

Nick Colbert had only so much warning as his friend, Mike Grady piled into him for a gleeful hug. Somehow, they managed to avoid colliding with the large standup sign that proudly proclaimed this to be Confurence. "Dude!" Mutual backslapping followed, and they separated grinning at one another.

"Hey, what'cha been up to?"

Nick smiled. "Artwork." The blonde biker held up the case he carried. "C'mon, you can help me set up!"

About an hour later they stood back to look at the display. "Cool lioness, Nick. I like the pose."

Nick looked at it. "Yeah, I really got inspired." He frowned, "Weird, it was so clear when I was doing it, - kind of eerie."

Mike looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it was almost like I was just copying an existing piece, somewhere else." He shrugged. "Dumb, huh?"

*****

Sinor bounced up and down on the balls of his feet with glee. It worked! He was looking out onto a room unlike anything he had ever seen before. Artwork; paintings, drawings, small sculptures- and members of a race utterly unheard of. They were wonderfully exotic. Furless, but with scalp hair; they were clearly mammals. And such delicate features! Why, they couldn't have much of a bite, with their almost total lack of a muzzle. Its shortness put him much in mind of a rabbit, but they had very short fangs, so they were not part of the rodent clan. Sinor was eaten up with curiosity. What were these wonderful creatures?!

*****

He was so entranced that he didn't hear the approaching footsteps till they were right outside the door. His ears suddenly pricked up in alarm. AKK! SOMEONE WAS COMING!!! The teen frantically reached for the globe that would deactivate the mirror.

In his haste, he passed his hand over the wrong one.

*****

In the art show the lights suddenly went out. Nick felt a sudden heave; a wave of nausea, and a sense of disorientation that quickly went away. The lights came back up- or at least he thought they did. He noticed that it was actually the windows; and it was sunlight, not electric. A glance up. Nope, they were still out. But why the blackout? He wondered at this, as Mike got back up off the ground. "Goddammit! We get to Confurence once a year, and we gotta have a damn earthquake?"

Despite his unease, Nick couldn't resist so perfect a straight line. He looked at his friend, completely deadpan, and said, "Welcome to California!"

*****

In the records room, Master Kervold immediately knew something was terribly wrong. his young apprentice was lying on the floor unconscious. Heart in his mouth, the old skunk rushed in his pigeon-toed, waddling gait to the youth's side. His nosepad was pale, his breathing shallow and rapid. The master checked his pulse, and began to cast a spell of healing over the young Meerkat. Something puzzled him; Sinor didn't look quite right somehow. He finished the spell, and a warm, blue glow spread from the elder's hands, and into the prostrate body on the floor. As the apprentice began to stir and cough, Kervold suddenly realized what was so wrong with a terrible shock and dawning horror.....

*****

Nick felt something was wrong, but had not yet put a finger on the problem. The lights were out, true, but power failures happened. He looked out the window. His green eyes narrowed speculatively. There was something strange about the scenery. It took a moment for it to register just how strange, and then his blood froze. Instead of the intense urban sprawl of Southern California, he could see wide open, gently rolling farmland. That was weird enough, but rising beyond the neat green fields he could see the towers and spires of a huge, walled city. His friend came to the window questioningly, and looked out. Mike made a strangled sound, as Nick whispered under his breath. "Oh Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore..."

*****

The Grand mistress of the order was on a walk around the city walls when the event occurred. There was a thunderous crash, a flash of light, and suddenly the south eastern fields; those farthest from the tenant farmer's village, were replaced with a cluster of off-white and glass buildings and towers. The tall Lioness stared in open mouthed shock at the sight. The area the buildings occupied was bordered with a slick-looking black substance, and that had many odd looking and brightly colored wheeled carts parked on it. People were visible on the grounds; beyond that, the distance was too great for other details to be made out.

A soldier of the city guard ran to her, halberd gripped with near- hysterical fear in the leopardess's' hands. "Mistress! Mistress! What is it?! Are we attacked?!"

Mira regained control with a minor effort. It would not do to show fear or uncertainty in front of the guard. After all, she had dealt with unexpected emergencies for a decade in her capacity as Grand Mistress. She turned calmly to the young female, and laid a hand on one armored shoulder. " Attacked? I think not trooper. " She surreptitiously cast a charm of calm upon the near panicked soldier, and was gratified when the terror faded from her eyes. The Leopardess began playing with the end of the thick braid of red hair that trailed out from under the edge of her helmet; a gesture more now of habit than fear. The familiar act helped the mistress regain the rest of her own composure.

The Lioness brushed unconsciously at her own waist length, tawny blond hair and continued, "Call the officers of the guard together, send a squad to gather in the tenant farmers from the village, close the city gates, and let none go to the apparition yonder until I and my savants can determine what all this portends." She fixed the Leopardess with a wise eye, "Above all, let no one provoke a confrontation until we know the why of this matter. Powerful magic was needed to do this, and we had best be most careful until we know the purpose for which it was done."

*****

Nick and Mike ran all the way to the main lobby of the hotel. They found when they got there that they weren't the only ones to notice the sudden change in the local scenery. Talk was rampant on what it all meant. Nick also noticed that, strangely, although the fans were nervous, they were also for the most part excited and optimistic about whatever had happened. Not so the hotel staff, or the mundanes who had been staying at the hotel. As he looked around at the rumbling pandemonium of the lobby, Gunny found him.

The white haired, bull necked ex-Marine headed right to Nick and Mike. It was easy to see why; aside from knowing both of them for years, they were two of the only calm people in sight. Gunny looked around one last time with his ice blue eyes,and spoke. " You've seen?" Both of the others nodded. Gunny continued. " There are some Marines here from Pendleton on leave, and I've got a shotgun and ammo in my Hummvee. What say we go out for a stroll and see what's out there?"

Nick replied. "I've got a sword and my chain mail in my room. -only brought a pistol for emergencies, though."

Mike chipped in, "I got an SKS and ammo in my truck- meet here in 15 minutes?" Gunny nodded, and headed off. Nick saw that he collected a knot of husky looking young men in buzz cuts identical to his own as he left. He turned and trotted off to his room.

*****

Mira had an idea what might have caused the appearance of the strange buildings- though she had no idea how it had done it. She headed straight to the archive room. Of all the magic she was aware of in all the world, only the great mirror had the raw potential to effect so great a working. There was a crowd around the door as she arrived. So, it would appear her suspicion was correct. She elbowed her way through the gawkers, and stared in shock at the Meerkat.

Sinor was, or had been, the youngest of the current apprentices. Now, he appeared to be middle-aged. His short brown hair and tan fur had coarsened; wrinkles marred the formerly smooth face. If appearances were right, he had aged 30 years since she had last seen him, earlier that morning. She took in the sight, sudden realization dawning as she spoke, grief in her voice. "Oh no, didn't the masters tell you not to play with strange magic?!"

The Meerkat hung his head in shame, unable to meet her eyes. She should have been furious with him, but now she could only be sorry for what had befallen him. Her voice gentle, she spoke again. "Tell me what you did."

The miserable young/old apprentice gave her the story; stumbling and halting in misery. The idea involving the painting, the window he had found into an unknown world, the marvelous creatures, and how he had fainted when he reached to deactivate the mirror.

Mira felt pity for Sinor. She told him she forgave him, and what had clearly happened when the youth had tried to cover his indiscretion. Sinor's eyes filled with tears at her words. He hadn't meant any harm; and now he had torn them from their world and brought them here ? He broke down and cried, huddled on the floor.

Mira felt her heart go out to the little male. It was her endless capacity for love and forgiveness that had secured her the highest title of the order in the first place. She got down on the floor with him, and put her arms around him. She rocked him gently, to and fro, for several minutes. At last his heart wrenching sobs faded, and she hugged him gently, one final time. Then she ruffled his hair a bit, and sighing, rose back to her feet. She looked around the room. Her senior council of overpriests and priestesses were all present.

That was a mercy, for she needed them all now, and it saved her the task of sending airsprites to fetch them all. She turned to them, and said "There is no help for it now- these beings are here, and we can not send them back." She began to walk to the door, the clerics parting from out of her path. She continued, " We may as well go and explain to them what has happened, for we are ultimately responsible. Domikk? Tarrelli? Jaiila? come with me please, we shall go at once..." Several others fell in as well, Including the archivist, and the order's language magic specialist.

She sighed tiredly once more, this would no doubt turn out to be a very long day.

*****

Nick met Gunny , Mike and the half dozen Marines at the front parking lot of the hotel. Gunny was looking at the edge, where the asphalt met the grass. The joint was as sharp as if it'd been cut with a giant razor blade. He looked up, grunted at the sight of the biker artist in a 3/4 length chainmail hauberk, helmet, mail coif, and broadsword. He chuckled at the rest.- Green BDU pants, knee height motorcycle boots, and gunbelt with holstered .45 automatic pistol. Nick shrugged, " The costume tunic and pants aren't comfortable enough to mess with, for serious."

One of the Marines made a remark that was meant to be heard -- none of them had guns, though Gunny had found them some fire axes, and two of them had baseball bats. Gunny looked the offender over with a withering glance. " Any of you boots seen him fight in that stuff?" When none of the young men answered, and he'd let them shift around uncomfortably for a moment, he continued. "Well, I've seen this guy swing a sword, and I'd hate to have to fight him with one -- so keep the noise down, unless you want me to have him give you a lesson , all right?"

Gunny turned away without waiting for an answer, and Nick muttered to him. "Thanks a lot ol' buddy- now I'm gonna have to prove you ain't lyin' if the shit hits the fan."

Gunny shrugged, "I seen you fight before, Nick. You can handle it."

Nick snorted. "Yeah, I'm real good against people that don't practice every day of their lives."

Gunny smiled at him, "Don't sweat it guy -- when you know its for real, you'll be amazed at your own performance!"

They turned back to the city and looked at it thoughtfully. The last of a tag end of what had to be peasants was running through the main gates.

Nick scratched his head thoughtfully, running a finger up under the helmet rim. " Hey gunny- notice anything strange 'bought them peasants?" The other man thought it over a minute, " No?"

Nick completed the thought. " Looks to me like they got tails."

They looked at one another. "You don't suppose...?"

"Don't get 'cher hopes up; we couldn't get that lucky."

They both turned back to stare at the high walls again. It couldn't really be, could it?

They kept watching for a while, there was some activity at the gate.

*****

Mira got her party together at the gates, and spent several minutes arguing with the captain of the city guard. Lexorr was a Tiger, and large even for his breed. He might be a half dozen years older than the lioness, but he was still strong and tough as old boot leather. He fairly towered over the Grand Mistress.

He scowled again. " Mistress, though I take your orders, I cannot allow you to go without escort to see these aliens! What if they attack you? You must have guards!" Mira was beginning to lose her patience. Lexorr was a dear male, and they had rutted together when they were both young. Indeed, their son had been a minor scandal, as Ligers were almost always sterile. ( These people did not consider Bastardy to be a disgrace, and indeed, not even a matter of note unless it complicated an inheritance of title.) But dear Corac had been the blessing of her life; he was a senior priest in another city now, and his father was dear to her still, though neither could have ever claimed that they'd ever been truly in love. The long held and deep friendship between them was somehow better; their lives had little in common, and it brought fewer complications than a marriage would have.

At just this moment, though, she was beginning to become quite vexed with him. He clearly wasn't inclined to bend on the matter, subordinate that he was to her rank. Mira had great patience; but she could be pushed too far.

Now she finally lost it.

She snapped at him, " Do you think anyone can truly threaten me, captain!?"

She held up a hand in front of his face, and spoke a word of power. Fire flashed and danced across her fingers. A face formed out of it, and the small firesprite hissed at him. Lexorr abruptly shut his mouth and flinched back. Even after all these years, her magic still had the power to intimidate him. He feared no mortal creature; he had been a famous champion and fighter in his youth, and was still formidable. But he could not fight magic.

The little demonstration was a reason why; most mages required three components to work magic. It took voice, gesture and a physical component to activate a spell. Only a true master or mistress could do so with only two of the three. Mira was one of a handful on the whole planet with the power and control it took.

She was sorry for the necessity, but there were times that he forgot who was mistress of the city, and why. Well, it was not the first time she'd had to do this, and no doubt it would not be the last. He was not so stubborn that he just wouldn't listen; he simply tended to forget, that, though she was not a warrior, she was far from helpless.

It was a common oversight among fighters.

He stood aside, running a hand helplessly through his greying, shoulder long black hair, and the party of clerics filed out of the gate.

*****

A small crowd of curious fans had gathered at the edge of the parking lot. So far, no one had been willing to cross the demarcation between grass and paving, as if there was a collective fear that to do so would end the spell, and pop them all back to their own world. There was a lively debate going on as to the meaning of all this, and what might happen next. Nick had noticed that no mundanes, or hotel staff had ventured out of the buildings yet, and pointed it out to Gunny . The retired Marine nodded, "Terrified out of their skulls, I'd say."

Nick agreed.and replied. "Its a dream come true for the fans, though."

Gunny chuckled, "Yeah, most of 'em have been dreaming about something like this their entire lives." The pair were not the only ones who had seen the tailed inhabitants beating a hasty retreat into the walls. And speculation was rampant as to which species there might be, and whether they'd be friendly, and so forth.

Another, older man joined them. Brock was a writer, and ex-Navy. He and Gunny got along surprisingly well, despite their occasional, light hearted jibing about "Squids" and "Jarheads."

The greying writer was of average height. He lived back in the east, in the Dakotas (though he often corrected people to say "Midwest"), and since he'd flown, and hadn't expected to do any hunting or shooting, hadn't brought any weapons with him. Nick loaned him the .45, and they continued speculating on the city.

One and all, they agreed that investigating up close without further information was foolish, and they were discussing options for a reconnaisance when Nick, who had had his eyes glued to the gates in the distance, pointed and spoke. "Look -- someone's coming out!"

It was a small party. That much they could see. No more than 5 or 6 individuals in grey-brown and green robes.

Excitement mounted as the nature of those individuals became more clear, as they walked closer.

*****

Mira was surprised by what she saw. Although Sinor had said these people were strange and wonderful in appearance, she had assumed they would be furs, such as herself. As she drew nearer, it became obvious that this was not so. She frankly stared as her clerics drew nearer; she was not the only one. From her right side, Jaiila gasped in admiration. Mira knew how the petite, brunette Gazelle felt. Though the strangers had no trace of a muzzle, their scalp hair was prominent, and the delicacy of their features was a marvel to behold. The very alienness of their appearance gave them an exotic appeal that even the learned high priests and priestesses felt with an almost physical impact.

Mira thought to herself that with the very short muzzle, the strangers were cub-cute; child faces on well formed adult bodies.

The greeting party halted at the edge of the grass, deciding almost by silent accord that this was the limit of their territory, and the beginning of the strangers. It was therefore only polite to wait to be invited across the border.

Both groups stood a few minutes, looking at one another with interest.

*****

The fans stared in wonder as the group of furries came to the edge of the parking lot.

There were 6 of them; A very pretty Gazelle girl with long brown hair, an elderly looking Oryx, a blond vixen with a large satchel, an even older looking and very stout skunk, and an excited little Genet-he kept trying to edge around the skunk, who held him back with what appeared to be a tolerant expression. Nick got a chuckle out of the scene- the little ring tailed male reminded him of another ringtail that was a character of a woman artist friend of his.

But it was the leader of the group that arrested Nick's attention. Aside from her obvious age, she was the very spitting image of the Lioness that he'd painted and hung in the art show.

Mira looked the creatures over. Only one obvious warrior stood among them. He was of medium height and blond hair, and wore a suit of good quality mail and helmet, and carried sword and shield. She noted there was no fear in the eyes of any present. Some of the others carried agricultural tools, and a couple sported odd looking implements of wood and blued steel tubes. These they cradled loosely in their arms as they gazed at her.

The warrior was staring at her as if seeing a ghost, but Mira was used to the effect her beauty often had on males, (And sometimes females.)

She listened to them talk amongst themselves. Unsurprisingly, she couldn't understand a word of it. She half turned, and gestured the Vixen forward.

Nick got a hold of himself, as the cute vixen came up to the line. She dug into her satchel, and produced a handful of herbs, and something that looked like a hunk of thick jerky. With some distaste, he recognized it as a dried tongue. He didn't want to think about where, (or who,) it might have come from.

The vixen let the satchel fall from its strap, flicked long blond hair out of her way, and began to speak in a low singsong voice. Nick couldn't make heads or tails of it, and about the time he decided the language sounded a bit like old Celtic, there was a shimmer around her hands, and the tongue crumbled into powder. The Humans stared, bemused. (Magic, of course- why not?)

The Lioness stepped onto the blacktop and spoke. "I am Mira the elder, Grand Mistress of the Order. We regret what has befallen you, in coming to this world; and we shall make amends as we are able." Nick began to laugh helplessly.

Everyone stared at him, furries and humans alike. Nick shook his head ruefully, and explained. "Remember The Architect of Sleep? -- I'd give anything to see Steven Boyett's goddamn face right now!"

*****

The clerics of the order explained the whole matter to the humans, accepting full responsibility for what had happened to them. Arrangements were made to house the fans in the city, and settle them in permanently.

Oddly enough, the fans were, for the most part, cheerful and optimistic. So much so, that some of the clerics wondered privately how bad their old lives must have been that they would so willingly embrace the loss of all that they'd known to live in a new world.

The fans simply told them that it was like the answer to a wish, and that many had dreamed of something like this their whole lives. Which was true.

Most of the mundanes and hotel staff wanted to stay in the hotel. The Grand Mistress wouldn't force them into the city, but she explained that she couldn't guarantee their safety if they stayed out.

Most of the fans shrugged, and went. It was as if the non-fans believed they could make the event reverse itself by remaining in the hotel, somehow -- that by denying the reality of their situation, they could wish things back to normal.

This despite being told that there was nothing known in this world that had the power to send them back.

The Mistress made another concession as well-- she scheduled all the humans for time on the mirror in order to recover their personal belongings from their own world. The fans mostly wanted to stay relatively together- a fact that the Mistress accepted with a sigh of profound gratitude -- so were quartered in a group of apartment blocks owned by the order.

These had been built originally as overflow housing for refugees from the countryside in time of war or calamity, and were large and spacious. Even so, many fans were obliged to room together, from 2 to 4 per set of rooms to save space. Someone described it as the biggest damn Slan shack that had ever existed.

The fans were to be paid a stipend each month- large enough that they could live on it if they had to move to quarters where they'd have to pay rent, and buy their own food. In practical terms, if they ate at the Order's communal kitchens, they could live virtually expense free, as the order did not charge them rent.

It was an ideal situation for most; they could work, if they wished, or not if they so chose. The stipend was not large, but most could save enough to frequent the red light district at least once a week, (The order's rules had nothing against this, as prostitution carried no negative stigma here.)

Most, however, began to save for the slave markets, as soon as they found out about their existence; and within the first six months, most had found themselves a willing bedwarmer or two.

*****

It was nearly a month before Nick saw the Grand Mistress again. She had taken a liking to the artist; it was probably the only reason she saw him at all. And he had to see her; he needed something to do, and sitting in the city was driving him bugfuck.

With what he'd heard only a few hours ago, he had an excellent excuse and reason to go out. Not that any of the Humans were being kept inside the walls against their will; Nick was just the sort of person who needed a reason to get him moving.

He knew she was busy with the business of her order. He sat in her sanctum; cups of tea steamed on a tray next to the desk. Papers and scrolls littered its surface. He had a suspicion that keeping them confined to their proper place in the racks was a full time occupation in its own right.

The lioness sipped appreciatively at her cup. She made a kind of ritual out of the act. Nick looked around the huge office. knickknacks of all types occupied virtually every space. This office had been in use continuously for more than a thousand years.

The ceiling was high; combined with the whitewashed walls, the place was light and airy. It reminded him of a musician's hall.

"And so, Nick, what brings you to see me this day?" He brought his attention back to her, she was looking at him with her warm, green eyes over the rim of her steaming cup. He regretted once again that there was so great a difference in age between them.

She might have been 50-odd years old, but her beauty had an almost physical impact on him every time they met. He knew it was foolish, and almost certainly a result of the painting he had done, but he still felt the effect, every time her eyes met his.

She was smiling at him, waiting for him to explain. Age notwithstanding, she clearly enjoyed being so obviously admired by a young and exotically handsome male. Not that she would do anything about it. All the humans reminded her of cubs; it was the short, almost total lack of a muzzle. And so, even if she were still sexually active, she would never have been able to bring herself to bed one.

Nick coughed to clear his throat, and got his thoughts out of the gutter and back to business. "I heard there's been an attack on an isolated village, a couple of days ago."

The lioness sighed tiredly, nodding. She set her cup aside and stretched, the robes pulling tight across her still-full and firm breasts. Nick couldn't help but stare in fascination.

As old as Mira was, she was still as lithe as the proverbial lioness, and Nick found the controlled power and grace of her every movement almost embarrassingly erotic. She continued, seemingly oblivious to the effect she had on him. Like hell, she isn't aware of it! Thought the artist with a faint touch of frustrated resentment. She might well be old enough to be his mother, but he wouldn't have kicked her out of bed for eating crackers!

She spoke again. " I have issued the standard reward notice to be read by the crier in the market square, but I don't think it will do much good- its a long ways off, and there are few adventuring furs in the city these days. In a week or so, the ogre will certainly leave, and then there will be no point to even offering a reward; since, by the time anyone can get there, it will be gone." She picked up a sheet of parchment, then read from it to him.

"It appears to be the same ogre that has terrorized the northern edge of the Great Bog for the last ten or so years. It takes several days by horse to get there, since its a long ways away, and the beast seems to know it. It never stays long, and is reported to be much bigger and stronger than a typical ogre as well. A force of knights large enough to attack it safely would take at least 8 days to organize themselves and their retainers; since they will not go without their comforts and baggage train. And once they got there, they would find nothing-the same as before, so they will not trouble themselves to bother."

She made a face, " I have considered hiring mercenaries to protect them, but so far away, I couldn't trust them not to loot the village, in addition to their pay, and depart to greener pastures, without risking themselves." She slowly shook her head in regret. " I have few options."

Nick smiled and spoke " You're wrong there, Mira. I have a plan, and weapons to do the job. Here, let me show you." He began to unzip the padded rifle case he'd brought with him, "We don't worry about big, nasty predators back home, and this is why. This is a gun..."

Nick explained the purpose and function of the scoped hunting rifle to the grand mistress, and his idea. The more he talked, the more interested she became, finally he finished his pitch, and leaned back in his chair.

She leaned back as well, looking thoughtfully out the wide window. She absently reached for her tea. Finally, she looked back toward him.

"Very well, nick. Your plan seems quite good. If these, uh, 'guns' will do as you say, and you and your friends can kill the ogre, I shall pay you all the reward for its death. I shall also have a priestess go along with you in case there are injuries, and see to it that you are given good rations for your journey. When do you plan to leave?"

Nick got to his feet. " We loaded up before I came to you, we will be ready to bug out in an hour." She looked at him and smiled. "Scamp."

*****

Nick was as good as his word, and the party was on the road 45 minutes from the time he returned. The junior priestess, a short, curvy little blond ferret, had been at first alarmed, and then enchanted by the Hummvee 4-wheel drive they planned on using. It was a tight fit,what with the tent and weapons at hand in case of trouble. But, by putting the priestess on Brock's lap they all fit.

Nick tried to inject a note of seriousness into the expedition, but soon gave up. It had the feel more of a college frat outing, or a dove or pheasant hunt from his childhood than a trip to hunt down and kill a dangerous monster. Still, it felt good to get out of the city and do something, and the excitement was contagious.

The ferret priestess -- her name was Marcella -- turned out to be an outrageous flirt; and after a half hour or so out of sight of the city, she took off her robes, and stretched out across the laps of the men in the back seat.

This culture and people really had little or no nudity taboos, and few sexual ones. A matter that constantly surprised many of the humans, and caused no end of minor trouble.

Shortly after Marcella's little striptease, Gunny gave in to temptation, and began fondling her; and she made it plain that she enjoyed the attention. Brock flushed bright red, and looked as if he wanted to melt into the seat in embarrassment. Wolf, another fan, had the front passenger seat and tried hard to ignore the scene in the back.

Nick didn't mind that the girl was orgasming and kicking the seat behind him in delighted sexual abandon, but he wished the hell she wouldn't scream so loud!

After awhile of this, he yelled, and stamped the brakes. They came to a screeching halt, and everyone looked at him in guilty concern. Nick turned in the seat, and glared at the ex-Marine.

"Dammit! If your gonna finger-fuck that girl all the way there, put a sock in her mouth or something!!" Gunny looked around in a display of affected nonchalance.

Marcella grinned at him, not even slightly ashamed, and said "Are you going to tie me up, too, my lord?"

Nick cocked an eyebrow in surprise, and replied, "Yes, and spank you, if you don't behave while I'm driving!"

She grinned wider, blue eyes twinkling. "Oh, I think I'm going to be a bad girl, lord Nick..."

He snorted, "Fine, I'll take care of discipline after we dust that ogre's ass, little lady!" She laughed, and they got moving again. Nick noted as they drove over the dirt road, that her laughter seemed a bit muffled...

*****

In the city, Mira watched from the magical vantage of the mirror. She shook her head ruefully. I shouldn't have sent a member of the Weasel clan, she thought to herself, really shouldn't have, not with their sex drive; and poor Marcella shut away the last two months , learning the advanced healing spells -- she must be horny as a three legged goat on a mountainside, by now. I just hope they can concentrate on doing the job...

*****

A few hours later, they reached the area of the peasant village that had been attacked. Nick brought the hummer to a stop, turned off the ignition.

Everyone got out of the vehicle, and stretched. Wolf began to make for a stand of trees. Gunny's sharp voice brought him up short. "Piss behind the damn truck! No one gets out of sight alone."

The portly fan scowled, and Nick amplified the old career sergeant's warning. " Get out of sight , and the damn ogre might grab you -- we all grew up seeing monster movies; stick together, and be ready to shoot!"

Given a good reason, his friend nodded in agreement, and moved behind their transport.

Brock stepped up beside Nick. The greying writer held an M14 on loan for the day. Nick himself had a borrowed Browning Automatic rifle in .338 Remington magnum; He'd been amazed Gunny even owned one- they were an uncommon item.

It had had a scope; Nick had pulled off it in order to use the iron sights. He was an excellent marksman, and felt that since this was likely to be a close range firefight, it was better to do without the scope's hindrance at point blank range.

Gunny held his own cherished Holland and Holland .500 express double rifle. Nick had felt a shock, and envy as keen as a knife wound at sight of the piece.

His tiger-hunting ancestor had carried one of these rare and incredibly expensive classics. Gunny had been completely unwilling to trade weapons with him, even though he had been willing to admit, that with his last name, it would have been most fitting for him to have carried it.

Everyone ready, they shook out into skirmish order, and began their advance.

The village appeared deserted. In design, it was a small palisade, surrounded with pointed logs like an old west frontier fort. The gates were flimsy looking, and had been torn from their leather hinges and cast aside.

Nothing moved as they walked slowly down the wide center lane the huts all fronted on.

Nick looked around. Most of the structures were wattle and daub construction; the wood apparently painted, and the daub outer shell whitewashed. Most of them had thatch roofs, and a few had burned to the ground. The rather wide spacing between the individual houses had kept the fires from spreading too much.

All in all, it was nicer-looking than he would have expected, and felt rather spacious.

Now it was a ghost town. The sensation was eerie.

The hunters kept a wary eye out, as they advanced further into the village.

There were some sort of bundles on the ground ahead. Clouds of flies rose up as they approached. Marcella made a sound of inarticulate grief as the nature of the refuse became discernible.

It was a messy pile of rotting body parts and bones. Nick swallowed in slight nausea, unable to take his eyes away from the hideous sight.

It might have been three or four children and maybe an adult or two. Fragments of black and white fur clinging to the skulls, along with the distinctive Mercaptin odor identified the poor remains as a family of skunks.

They'd been brutally beaten to death with a rather large blunt instrument, the bones smashed and splintered, the flesh torn and embedded into the earth. It couldn't have been a short or painless process.

"Must have been the Ogres didn't want to eat 'em on account of the smell." Gunny sounded a bit strained, as he spoke. Nick nodded in agreement. There didn't seem much else to say. The pathetic little pile of bodies filled them all with a sense of remorse, and helplessness. There was nothing they could do, and after a moment, Gunny got them moving again. It wasn't that the ex-Marine was heartless; it was just that he'd seen things like this decades ago, in Vietnam, and he was a practical man.

They all looked around the village now with hooded eyes, hefting their rifles and slipping safeties off.

A smoldering anger had begun to replace grief and disgust. Now they all wanted payback.

They moved in a ragged line to the center of the village square, where the well was. As they reached it, a huge creature lumbered out from between two of the houses and bellowed at them.

It was at least Eight feet tall, and covered in shaggy, filthy hair. Long yellow tusks jutted out of its lower jaw, and it glared at them from tiny, piggish black eyes. It bellowed again and rushed them.

Gunny had recovered from the shock of the things roar first, and whipped the big double up to firing position.

The .500 thundered and pounded his shoulder as the soft point bullet took the monster in the chest. The Ogre stumbled, and took a step back, shaking its head and blinking in surprise and shock at the sledgehammer impact. Gunny didn't give it a chance to figure out what happened, and emptied the second barrel into its head a bare second behind the first.

A double rifle is not a target weapon, and its accuracy often leaves something to be desired. The big slug was a hair off of center, and tore the side of the monsters face off in a spray of flesh, hair and pulverized bone.

Not that it mattered much; Brock, Nick and wolf were a bare moment behind Gunnie's first shot, and the fusillade of flying lead all but shredded the Ogre's upper torso before it pitched backwards off its feet.

*****

Marcella was cowering on the ground holding her poor, suffering, sensitive ears. She wasn't afraid, just overwhelmed by the unexpected and awe-inspiring racket of the rifles. The humans had warned her about that, but warnings were not up to the world devouring racket of the guns firing!

Nick put a hand down to help her to her feet, just as another of the damned things came out from behind another house.

Then it was chaos for several minutes as, in quick succession, half a dozen more made an appearance and charged.

Marcella hit the ground again as nick whipped the .338 Browning back to his shoulder -- he had reloaded before offering her his hand -- and they all began pumping hot lead injections into the shaggy, smelly, bow-legged horrors bearing down on them.

These were not as large as the first, thankfully, but they took some killing anyway.

Brock put an entire magazine of .308 into a pair of them, bearing down on him. The full metal jacketed rounds caused horrible wounds, blood and hair, bits of meat flying at the impacts; but the shaggy, smelly behemoths kept on coming. The closer one fell; a wild shot splintering it's hip. It thrashed around shrieking in pain, spraying blood through the air. The second kept coming. Torn to a ragged ruin, it actually got close enough to brush his boot with a hairy hand, as it went down. He backed up fast, jerking his Smith and Wesson .357 revolver from its holster. Hand shaking, he blasted the writhing body at point-blank range in the head. It looked up at him in mindless, dying hate, gore dripping from its ruined face. He put the last hollow-point round into its remaining eye. It finally gave up and had the good grace to die.

Nick and Gunny caught most of the charge on their side, Nick covering while Gunny reloaded. The .338 banged Nick's shoulder cruelly; he didn't give a damn. The heavy, hollow-point slugs tore through flesh and bone, crushing the screaming monsters to the ground in gory heaps; and that was all he cared about right now. He would have cheerfully shouldered a howitzer if it would kill these shit-smelly bastards!

He idly noticed that most of them had large, pendulous breasts; the fact had no other effect on him. It was like noticing grass growing through cracks in a sidewalk. Female or not, it didn't matter; one does not tend to care about the gender of the shark that is trying to gnaw your leg off when you are hitting it with a baseball bat. The biker continued to load and fire as fast as he could.

Wolf had it the easiest, only one small Ogre had attacked from his direction, and his M1 Garand had been more than sufficient to knock it over with two shots.

Then it was over.

Everyone looked around wildly, frantically reloading with trembling hands, but no more of the bellowing monsters appeared to challenge them further. One of the ogres was trying to crawl away, entrails dragging behind it for a dozen feet. It was the only one moving. Nick walked over to it and pointed his rifle. It looked back at him over its shoulder, snarling weakly. The biker shot it in the face.

Gradually the party relaxed, and checked over the rest of the bodies. A life time of fictional stories where the monsters always got up and attacked again the second the hero turned his back made all of them thoroughly determined not to take any chances.

It was unnecessary. The rest of the creatures were as dead as dead gets, and Gunny got the party together to search house to house.

They had no grenades, and probably wouldn't have used them even if they had them, just in case there actually were survivors hiding out in the structures.

It took the rest of the day to search the place thoroughly, but in the end even Gunny was willing to admit the place held no other living creatures larger than a lizard.

The number of Ogres answered one long standing question at least. Ordinarily, this type of monster was solitary; they didn't tolerate their own kind unless it was breeding season. This group was very unusual, but a pack like this had the numbers to destroy whole villages, where a single one could not. It also explained why no one who had ever hunted them had ever returned. It did not explain why this little detail had never been discovered with the mirror, but that would have to be ascertained later.

Marcella convinced them to remain for the night -- there were nasty things out there, in the wild, in the darkness, that even a gun couldn't deal with -- Mist Vampires and such. So she cast bless and purify spells around a house to keep out anything supernatural attracted by the slaughter, and they bedded down.

As they each took a room, Marcella slyly reminded Nick of his words earlier in the day. As he began to make good on his promise, Gunny let out a whoop, " Hey slick, save some for us!" The others laughed at Nick's cheerfully obscene reply, and Wolf joined in, "Yeah, we killed the Ogre, now its time to boink the Ferret!" Brock chipped in with a quip about Nick's terrible selfishness, and didn't he believe in sharing? Nick made a general statement about his friends personal habits, probable ancestry, and likely fate in the hereafter, before finally deciding he'd sufficiently defended his honor, and curled up in his bedroll with the giggling priestess.

He needed it; he was still awfully keyed up and jumpy from the admittedly one sided firefight. Who cared that it hadn't been fair odds? If they'd had a heavy machine gun, they'd have used it eagerly. When your life is on the line, you don't give a rat's ass about fair.

He didn't get much sleep that night, and discovered that her fur tickled. He did feel, though, that he could get used to it.

The next day they were all more serious. Now it was time to clean up and bury the poor remains of the villagers. It was nasty; the ogres hadn't left bodies intact.

Most had been disemboweled, and kidneys and livers extracted. What was left was already well on its way to rotting into unrecognizability. Resurrection spells were out of the question; they required a body to be fresh, and intact.

They clenched their jaws, and collected the remains; the smell was hideous, and more than one of them threw up. (The men felt better about that, somehow, when the girl puked her guts up as well. They also felt sorry for her; a retching ferret is a pitiful sight.) The flies were probably the worst; huge and all shades of color, they settled on everything and if you weren't very careful, they got into your mouth.

By general agreement, they decided on a mass cremation. Marcella was much more subdued and serious today, and said that the method was acceptable within the rites of the order.

So they worked at the grisly pile until long into the afternoon -- at least two always on guard with rifles loaded and a round up the spout. This was not a cheap monster flick; if anything took them by surprise, it would only be because it was invisible, and Marcella had assured them that there were no known invisible creatures in the world that she could not detect by the spells she had cast at the beginning of their journey.

When they were done arranging matters to the ferret priestess’s satisfaction, she began a keening prayer. It was not a spell; that came in a moment.

As she finished the eulogy, she snapped both arms up and back, then brought them together with a flourish. A fireball spouted from her hands, to engulf the pyre. The hunters piled into the Hummvee as the smoke rose in the sky.

They drove slowly away, feeling somber and subdued, as the palisaded village burned behind them.

The End, for now.