The Ogre Apprentice (20 page)

“May I see it, Edge?” Beth asked, shifting the child to her left arm and reaching out with her right hand.

Justan handed it to her wordlessly, deep in thought. Did Vahn really think he would be so easily frightened? Or was it angering him its real purpose? Did it expect him to act recklessly and leave himself open?

Beth tried to read the scroll one handed, but it kept rolling up on her. She tried to hold it open with her other hand, but the baby kept reaching for the paper. Finally she groaned in frustration and held the baby out to Justan. “Would you hold her, please?”

It was the last thing Justan wanted to do at the moment, but he didn’t know how to refuse. He took Sherl-Ann from Beth and held her up against his chest. He patted the baby’s back, absently noting the strong flowery scent that wafted up from her soft skin as he went over the words of the nightbeast again and again in his mind. What could he learn from its threats? He was so angry it was hard to think straight.

Sherl-Ann grasped at his face with her soft little hands and he looked down into her clear blue innocent eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Her mouth hanging slightly open, a bead of drool hanging on her lower lip. She was giving him such a serious look that Justan momentarily forgot about his anger and frustration. An odd calm fell over him and in that moment a few simple truths about the nightbeast’s threats fell into place in his mind. Then the baby reached up and grabbed his nose. Her thumb went deep into his nostril and her little nail gave him a painful gouge. He winced and pulled his nose out of her grasp as the peaceful moment ended.

“I hate the bastard,” Beth announced and though Justan saw her through watering eyes, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the paper in her hands disintegrated from the sheer intensity of her expression. “That snide son of a dog. Yntri was ‘in the way’?”

“The nightbeast is cunning,” Deathclaw said, folding his arms as he gave Justan an approving nod. “But this letter was foolish. Despite all its preparation, it does not know Justan very well.”

“Oh?” Beth said, and she was surprised to see that a smile had spread across Justan’s face.

Justan kissed the center of Sherl-Ann’s forehead. “That’s right. Sending me that message was a mistake. Now I know exactly what I’m dealing with.”

Vahn clung to the bottom of the canal and waited as the swift current dragged the rogue horse downstream. The only things keeping his body from being swept away with her were a series of hastily-formed claws digging into the tiny gaps in the white bricks that made up the canal walls.

His amoebic body shuddered in disbelief as sharp spikes of agony rippled through him. This had never happened before. He had been wounded by his prey.

As he had hit the water, Vahn had allowed the hard shell encasing his core to soften. This made it less visible in his translucent state, but at the moment of this change, an arrow had struck his body. The sharpened brass head had grazed the soft part of his core, cutting a tiny furrow in the edge of his brain.

It was a severe wound. Not life threatening, but close. Oh how that thought burned him. One centimeter more and he would have died, turned to stone like a malformed statue.

As it was, the part of him that had been damaged was the part that gave him control over his shape. Clinging to his translucent form was causing him great pain and he could feel his control slipping. Several of the claws anchoring him to the rock lost their form and he slipped, nearly losing his purchase and getting swept away by the current.

Vahn growled inwardly. He would undoubtedly have to spend quite some time in his native form in order to heal completely. The indignity of that fact irked him. To look like a common basilisk . . . the disgrace of it repulsed him. 

He had underestimated that human again. And the man’s bonded, that rogue horse, had sensed him somehow. Vahn was sure of it. Sir Edge hadn’t known he was there until his pet growled.

What had given him away? His shape had been perfect; his scent, his voice. He had spent a full day shadowing Beth and studying her. He had been the woman in every noticeable way. How had that beast known? Was it perhaps the bow or the arrow he had used? Had they carried an unfamiliar scent?

He would have to be more careful next time. He wouldn’t allow his plans to be derailed by this injury, of course. He would kill Sir Edge in a glorious manner and both of his bonded beasts would fall with him.

The pain that shot through Vahn lessened the pleasure of that thought. Murdering them wouldn’t be enough to sate him. Perhaps he would kill more than his target, nightbeast rules be damned. His client wouldn’t mind. The more noise the better. There were plenty of enemies around. Plenty of tempting targets.

With that comforting possibility in mind, he allowed the rest of his anchoring claws to lose their form and let the water carry him away. He would take another form at the end of the canal and join the pod of basilisks that awaited his instructions. He had things for them to do. There were so many preparations to make.

*          *          *

“You’re smiling about this?” Beth asked, shaking the scroll at Justan.

“Of course. I was on edge before I read that,” Justan explained. Sherl-Ann squirmed in his arms and reached for his nose again, but he intercepted her little hand with his finger and she held on. “Now I know what to expect from him.”

“How so?” Beth said, her brow furrowed with skepticism. “As far as I can see, he’s just proven that he can get to you whenever he wants.”

“Exactly,” Justan said. “So why hasn’t he? He could have killed me before.”

“What?” Beth said.

Deathclaw understood. “If he could get that close to Justan looking like you, he could have killed him many times over the last week.”

Justan nodded towards the scroll in Beth’s hands. “Look at what he said and then take in mind what we know about him so far. He’s ancient. Confident. Experienced. But what kind of assassin sends a taunting letter like this? This isn’t professional. If one of Hugh the Shadow’s men sent something like this to a target, he’d expel him from the school.”

“This nightbeast is broken.” Deathclaw’s eyes were narrowed. His sister weighed heavily in his mind.

“Yes,” Justan replied, sensing the tone of the raptoid’s thoughts. He thought of the way Talon had tormented Miss Nala’s family before she attacked. There were similarities there. “He’s decided to make this personal. This is why I know he won’t be satisfied with shooting me from afar or poisoning me. He’s going to want to do it up close and he’s going to want to do it himself.”

“Are you sure about that?” Beth asked. “If he plans to attack you alone, why would he go to the trouble of recruiting more basilisks?”

“He has a plan, evidently,” Justan replied. Sherl-Ann, tired of yanking on his hand, twisted around and saw Deathclaw standing nearby. She squealed and reached out, leaning toward the raptoid and Justan had to switch his hold on her to keep her from falling out of his arms. “Uh, that’s more evidence that he isn’t going to act randomly like he claims. He’s going to use those basilisks in his attack somehow.”

“And that doesn’t worry you?” she pressed.

Justan shook his head. “It gives me insight into what he’s going to do. In a sense it makes things easier.”

Sherl-Ann cried out for Deathclaw again, more insistently this time. Justan sighed and handed her back to the raptoid. Deathclaw hissed, but allowed the transfer, curling one lip as she squealed and laid her head on his shoulder. Justan noted that Deathclaw was more practiced at holding her now, his newly modified right hand resting against her back protectively.

“How would you do it, Deathclaw?” Justan asked. “You liked to deal the death blow when you were the leader of your pack. How would you approach it if you had a pack of raptoids at your command and I was important prey you needed to take down?”

Deathclaw blinked at the question.

That is silly. Deathclaw would not hurt you, Justan
, Gwyrtha said, pushing her head between them.

“We would track you and watch your movements,” Deathclaw replied in a low hissing voice. “I would instruct my packmates to harry you and wear you down. We would chase you into the perfect position and then, when you were most vulnerable, I would strike.”

A low growl issuing from Gwyrtha’s scaled throat.
I do not like this talk
.

It’s okay. We are just talking strategy
, Justan assured her. He reached out and scratched her behind the ears.

“And knowing all this makes you relieved?” Beth asked.

“It means I have a better idea what to expect,” Justan said. “If I know what he is going to do, I know how to fight him. We’ll know when danger is coming because we’ll start smelling basilisks around. They give off an odor that all three of us know how to identify. He also gave me one big clue with the last line on his letter.”

Beth opened the scroll and read it again. “You mean, his promise that it will be spectacular?”

Justan nodded. “He’s going to wait for a big moment. He’ll make his attempt when it’s going to make the most noise.”

Beth frowned for a moment. “Your wedding?”

Justan thought about it. “Perhaps, but no one knows when that will be. Xedrion hasn’t exactly given me his permission yet. I could be wrong, but I doubt Vahn will want to wait for something as nebulous as that.”

“But . . .” Her eyes widened. “Yntri’s funeral. It’s set for three weeks from now and it’s going to be a big event. The most ancient of the elves will be in attendance. The leaders of all the Roo-Tan families will be there.”

“You’re probably right,” Justan said with a wince. “If Vahn killed me there, it would make quite a wave.” Justan’s hand went to his right wrist where the stiff band of dead Jharro wood still clung. A wave of remorse rolled over him at the thought of the elf’s funeral being disrupted.

“I notice you’re still wearing that wristband,” Beth said.

“Yntri formed it perfectly to my arm and I can’t remove it without cutting it off. I . . .” He grimaced. “I can’t make myself do that.”

A sad look of understanding came over Beth’s face and she placed a hand on his arm. “I know how you feel, but you can’t keep it on forever.”

“It’s a reminder,” he said, his jaw tightening. “If I let my guard down people close to me will be killed.”

 “You’re so much like your mother. Sherl always burdened herself like that. Everyone’s problem was her problem.” Beth let go of his arm and reached up to cup his jaw line. “You know this isn’t your fault, don’t you?”

Justan stepped back, pulling away from her hand. He didn’t want to be comforted. “Fault or not, Beth, it’s my responsibility.”

She nodded slowly, letting her hand fall back to her side. “I think it’s about time you met Yntri’s family.”

“His family?” Justan said.

“They need to know of the nightbeast’s plans and Tolynn will want to see that wristband. They have odd customs about dead Jharro wood,” Beth said.

“Tolynn?” he asked.

“Yntri’s wife,” Beth said. “She shares your tree.”

Justan nodded somberly. “Alright. I’ll bring it up with Jhonate later today. I’d talk to her about it through the ring, but she’s in a meeting with her father and they are too far away for me to reach her.”

“This is too important to wait. You should go now,” Beth said. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

“To the grove?” Justan said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not supposed to leave the palace,” Justan replied. “I’ve been asking for permission to visit the grove, but Xedrion hasn’t allowed it yet. He says he wants to ‘interview’ me first, whatever that means.”

In fact, Justan wasn’t allowed to go anywhere in the city without an escort. He hadn’t seen much more than the palace grounds and the local marketplace. Jhonate said that Xedrion had made the order as a precaution because of the nightbeast, but Justan was beginning to feel more like a prisoner than a guest.

“You’re kidding,” Beth said with a roll of her eyes. “And it’s been how long?”

“A week. And believe me, I want nothing more than to get out of here. It’s been driving me crazy waiting here at the palace while Xedrion plans for war with the Roo-Dan. He won’t even let me help.” Justan sighed. “But Jhonate says I should be patient. She’ll get me permission when she can.”

Beth snorted. “By the gods, Edge. Grow some rocks. You’re a named warrior and wizard and she’s not even your wife yet.”

“What?” Justan let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re saying I should just go? Defy Xedrion’s order?”

“Yes!” She pointed at him. “Xedrion isn’t your ruler. He can’t keep you from going. You have been chosen by one of the trees. You have every right to visit the grove.”

“This is true,” Deathclaw said. Sherl-Ann had settled down. She wasn’t asleep but she was resting her head on the raptoid’s shoulder, watching Justan with serious eyes. “Xedrion bin Leeths is not your leader. There is no need to follow him.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you,” Beth said. “The Roo-Tan won’t try to stop you if you’re with me. I’m the ‘savior of the grove’ after all.”

Justan had no doubt she was right. Beth was held in high esteem here. Everywhere she went, people greeted her with wide smiles. Many of the local women had even adopted her style choices, wearing embroidered blouses and wide baggy pants gathered at the ankles.

“I’m tempted. Really, I am. But I should talk to Jhonate about it first. Xedrion barely tolerates me as it is. If I go against his wishes now-.”

“Oh, for the love of hell.” Beth reached out, grabbed Justan’s earlobe, and twisted.

“Ow! Hey!” he said as she jerked him towards the gate of the archery range.

“Now you can say I twisted your ear and made you go,” Beth snapped. She let go of him. “Xedrion’s strategy meeting won’t be over for at least a couple more hours and I’m not gonna wait around for him to finish just so that he can say no. Come on.”

Justan scowled at her and rubbed his ear. Why were all the women he respected in his life so mean? And why did he always do what they said? Was there something wrong with him? He could sense Deathclaw’s amusement at the situation.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked Beth as he followed her out of the range, Deathclaw and Gwyrtha trailing behind him. “I’m not your responsibility.”

“Maybe not, but I owe your mother,” she replied. “Besides, I like you. You’re a good man, Edge. I knew that the first time I listened to you.”

 Beth led them to the green inlaid doors of the palace proper, but they did not go inside. Instead, she turned and took them along a stone walkway that skirted the outside of the grounds. It was a picturesque route. Manicured shrubberies and colorful swamp flowers were planted at every turn in the path. At one point the path came out from between two buildings, opening up into a breathtaking view of the city and the forest beyond.

Beth stopped to point out at the horizon. “You can actually see the grove from here.”

“Where?” Justan asked, looking out at the forest. The prophet had once shown him a vision of the place and the picture in his mind was immense. The Jharro trees would have to stick up out of the rest of the forest like an apple tree rising above shrubs

“It starts not too far into the forest. The grove is pretty well camouflaged from a distance, but if you look closely, the wind gives it away,” she said. “Look at the treetops and you’ll see flashes of blue.”