I weigh the knife in my hand, aim, and throw.
I mean to hit it in the head, a surprisingly small target on such a large creature, but the ogre lumbers to the side at the last moment. Instead of hitting the ogre, the knife shoots straight through the rope binding it to the ceiling. It snaps in half, the rope unwinding in a splay of torn fibers.
“What the hell, Black?” Piers shouts as the ogre roars and stumbles forward, free from constraint. He snatches up his javelin and throws it, but it bounces harmlessly off the ogre’s skin. “What the hell, Black?” he shouts again, turning to me.
He’s got several more javelins strapped to his back, but I doubt they’ll be any help. We’ve already seen how useless they’re going to be in this fight.
The ogre picks up the javelin and hurls it back at us with thick, meaty fingers. His aim is primitive at best, but we still have to dive out of the way when it ricochets off the wall behind us.
I hit the ground and roll easily back to my feet, throwing another knife toward its face. This time it strikes the monster’s cheek, but it simply falls away. The ogre reaches up and scratches irritably at its face. There’s not even a mark.
We’re scattered now, crouched along one wall of the amphitheater as faces grow closer to the glass overhead looking on. I can’t take my eyes away from the ogre, even for a second, to try to gauge their reactions.
The ogre lumbers toward the closest one to him, Bennett, and I run toward the back of the chamber to put some distance between us. Owen looks like he’s seriously think of making like Erin and running away too until Bennett dodges out of the creature’s way and the ogre slams straight into the doorway leading back. The impact of it shakes the iron gate loose. It crashes down to block our escape with a skull-rattling crash.
Bennett takes the opportunity to swing his great sword up over his head and down at the ogre’s arm with one broad, powerful stroke. The blade sinks partway into the monster’s skin, but he’s kept from striking again as the ogre roars and stumbles back—the sword still embedded in the fatty flesh of its arm.
Owen takes the opportunity to swing his spiked mace down on the ogre’s other arm, but without Bennett’s near otherworldly power behind it, it just bounces off.
“This is useless!” Piers yells. “None of our weapons work!”
Owen, panting, nods in agreement. Bennett simply stares in shock at his empty hands as the other two start trying to lift the iron gate while the ogre is temporarily preoccupied with its pain. They might be ready to give in, but I’m not.
“Then we’ll have to try something else!” I shout, throwing another knife. It doesn’t harm the ogre, but it does draw its attention away from the now-unarmed Bennett. It spots me and charges, it’s great lumbering feet closing the gap in mere seconds. I wait as it runs up and dive away at the last second. The ogre slams into the wall, shaking loose dust and chips of concrete free from the ceiling above.
I stumble back over towards the boys, who are still trying unsuccessfully to life the grate. Bennett shoves the others aside and hoists it up like it’s nothing—leaving the pathway to freedom, and failure, open to us once again.
I shoot out an arm to stop Piers leading the retreat. “Stop.”
“We’ve already tried everything,” Piers says through gritted teeth. He glances back at the ogre, just now getting back to its feet. “You wanna die down here?”
I cast my gaze frantically around the chamber, and then—
“The rope,” I gasp.
The rope that was once attached to the ogre’s harness is now curled up on the ground at the back of the enclosure. “We can’t hurt it with weapons, but we might be able to strangle it.”
“None us are strong enough to strangle an ogre,” Owen snaps. “Not even Bennett.”
Bennett nods and shifts the weight of the iron gate; still open under his straining shoulders.
I look around the chamber again. My eyes lift to the ceiling overhead, and the large iron loop the rope was tied to before I so eagerly severed it.
“Then we hang it.”
“What?” Piers’ mouth drops open. “Are you insane?”
“Maybe,” I say. I point to the metal ring on the ceiling. “If we get the rope back through there we can use it like a pulley system.”
“That might work,” Bennett says quietly. His voice is soft, measured, even as an ogre bellows in rage on the other side of the chamber. “If we can get the rope around its neck.”
“And how do we do that?” Owen asks. “That thing is eight feet tall.”
“Small for an ogre,” Bennett mutters, and I see him sizing himself up against it. “Eight feet’s not so high …”
Maybe not for you, bear-man.
“Maybe it’s a trick.” Piers adjusts one of his javelins. “Maybe we’re supposed to run away, like that other girl did.”