#odyssey

Dagmar, however, scoops up Symon and RUNS.

And looks for a hiding- YEEP

he might look rather odd, bouncing in the air over her shoulder.

Peeking behind him, and he digs out from his pocket. He cannot yell, he cannot call, but he can BLOW.

Even as he winces at the sound, he blows once... twice... thrice!

The giant chases after the bouncing odd sluagh thing loping along on.. wait.. what is that? He doesn't know "You will DIE!" BIG steps..gaining..

the horn blows....

and in the distance men respond, but will they be in time?

Dagmar keeps her head down and pushes. She might not be the fastest on the team, but she is an athlete.

And Symon weighs her down less than the armor.

"Fools! I am mightier than 50 berserkers! I fear only the ZəbûbCladis! a weapon that none have seen in these lands.. neither spear, nor axe! But bastard child of both!"

He's gaining still.. apparently the giant does a few laps around the mountain now and then too

He just wheezes, breath spent on the hornblowing.

Snort.

"Boy he in for a surprise."

Gulgar reaches, swipes..a nd misses as Dagmar zags herself and her prize away

And three warriors come over the hill! "The call, the call"

Running!

And they hurl spears at Gulgar.. One bouncing.. another scratching, another hitting and sticking!

Gulgar snarls, and turns on them instead

Dagmar sets Symon down behind the warriors.... and draws Flyswatter.

CHARGE!

Maybe Gulgar is like Achilles? Take out that tendon, see if he falls...

And it is good she does, for Gulgar strikes one warrior with a club sending hurling. he goes in for the kill when the charge hits!

Symon just stays put wheezing. Worth it, but... his breath is gone.

And he screams! As his tendon is struck

And he cries "My bane foretold! No!"

And a voice that sounds like Vali's fills the sky

He watches, in awe - Dagmar still invisible, but as slashes appear like magic, he can tell she was there!

"ZəbûbCladis! The Fly Swatter... a weapon that did not exist in Valgarde until a young knight of Southern Lodges brought it to bear! Each blow cut through his iron flesh as if it were but soft wax! This was his doom as potrayed by the norns, and the humble scribe of said norns. Written to be many years ago in a short story I never published- Let's hope this works"

WHACK.

Another strike, severing the leg!

And the other two warriors still up fall on him with spears! Gouging his eyes!

Wheeze... snicker... wheeze... try not to laugh!

But it is Dagmar who gets the last blow in! A mercy for it finishes the dread eater of men off quickly!

Regaining his feet, he slowly heads over to where the one warrior was thrown, checking on him.

Dag sits down to pull off her invisiboots.

A Look up at the sky. Lots of brow at the writer.

"I have your prize" Ulfnor says, as he rides up "And it is thrice well earned!"

Grunt. "Hope we showed we're the good guys, yeah."

Symon makes his way over. "Damn.... (wheeze) straight."

The Map's final piece is handed to her "Come, let us celebrate once more"

"You okay, Sy?"

He gives a thumbs up. "Not.... taking up.... marching band." And hands her over the horn for safekeeping.

"Noted. For sure."

The fragment is tucked away in a pocket.

And then... before they can stop it, the summary and epilogue begins...

a ceremony of honor which sshould takee an hour seems to pass in minutes, and a celebration which should last several hours more done in less than an hour as well

THey find themselves dumped on the silver with a bag of gold, two goats, and fancy cloaks of fine material