Michael turned to face the Osiri shaman.
"Your troop leader is dead. Return home, to your own world. Now! Or, you won't live to see the dawn on this one."
"Ashrog ordered us not to return until we had accomplished our mission," replied the shaman.
"That being?"
"Your death, Prince Landor."
"Then, you leave me no choice. SANDY!"
The stolen Saddlebreds began rearing in terror when the gatehouse roof suddenly exploded. Following the emergence from it of a naked one hundred foot-tall giantess!
"Would you kindly demonstrate, for these gentlemen, the unique form of constipation relief we were disussing earlier?" her tiny boyfriend called upward.
"Gladly!"
Half of the remaining Osiri tried to make a run for it. But, their horses only made it as far as the northern-most corner of the academy's front wall. For, in their panic, they had forgotten about their shaman's psychokinetic bubble. And, as a result?
Sandy plucked the first five from their saddles like petals from a flower. Only to fling them to the ground, head-first, and step on them like a flamenco dancer! All the while chanting:
"He LOVES me! He loves me NOT!
He LOVES me! He loves me NOT!"
He LOVES me! He...!"
"Enough!" shouted the shaman: "We will leave. But, first, allow us to gather our dead."
Michael looked at Willek, who nodded. He then smiled upward at Sandy, who returned. It was when she turned away, to wipe the blood off her feet, that she noticed several windows open at the boys' dormitory nearest the gatehouse. With several of its occupants looking in her direction...and aiming cellular vidphones in her direction.
* * * * *
Half an hour later, after bandaging Michael's cut, Martin approached the shaman.
"When you see him again, give Ashrog this message. His days of rulership--and life--are numbered. To the sum of years he can count on one hand!"
Martin pointedly held up only his left index finger.
"Hear me, Son of Nahrog," replied the shaman: "Your uncle may not be the First Chief of Chiefs your father was. But, I agree with him on this much. Whatever the Osiri do, they should _only_ do of their own free will! Not at the bidding of either Wotani or Azuling."
"You sanctimonious hypocrite!" exclaimed Michael: "My father and Nahrog were trying to _avert_ war!"
"With all due respect, Prince Landor? There are some things a wise man _never_ attempts. Not even once! Like mating a brood mare to a gelding...or changing the true nature of the Osiri. Both...are equally foolish."
"Speaking of which," replied Willek: "I believe four of your men are still missing. Lorraine?"
The faithful German Shepherd trotted up, carrying Vara's hair net in her mouth. Willek took it from her, and handed it to the shaman. The latter's wide-eyed astonishment, at seeing that it contained four shrunken Osiri, made Michael and Martin chuckle shamelessly loud.
Moments later, the shaman lifted up his skull-mounted staff and uttered an incantation. He then pointed the staff at the circle of bodies surrounding him and the surviving Osiri (who were now afoot). Instantly, streams of flame shot forth from the eye-sockets, totally engulfing those bodies!
When the flames finally subsided, all that was left was a ring of charred grass. And, it was at this point that Sandy heard the police car coming.
Tbc
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
I had intended to finish this on or before Halloween. But, I got sidetracked by a campy labor of love. ;-)