The Ogre Apprentice (29 page)

Fist frowned. “But how? We destroyed all her powerful eyes.”

“So we thought,” he said, his ink cylinder moving faster. “Latva’s plan was a clever one. I have read his journals. He crafted the plan over decades. He led the country’s best warriors and wizards into the heart of Mellinda’s domain, causing her to pull all of her power in close, bringing her most precious children in range. He knew that it was the only way to truly defeat her. He needed the blue eyes destroyed for sure and he worried that if enough orange eyes survived, she could escape with at least part of her essence.”

“So you think his plan failed?” Fist asked, his throat tightening.

“It’s hard to say.” Locksher shrugged. He seemed more interested than frightened by the possibility. “It certainly seemed to work. After all, Sherl’s attack destroyed the heart of Mellinda’s domain. Jhonate, with Beth and Master Tollivar’s help, hewed her essence in two . . .” He cocked his head. “That was how they described it, wasn’t it? Hewn in two?”

Locksher flipped a few pages and jotted down another note. “Anyway, the remnants of her army scattered. By all reports, they lost all contact with her. The remaining green and yellow eyed moonrats changed their behavior, losing their aggression. I certainly thought it was over.”

“So,” Fist’s mind was churning with unsettling possibilities. “If one of her blue eyes escaped the destruction-.”

“Master Latva was sure that one surviving blue eye could have contained the entirety of Mellinda’s soul and power. It was her escape plan, so to speak. After hundreds of years of imprisonment, all she had to do was place the eye inside of an individual and possess them, free again to conquer the known lands.”

Locksher paused and looked up at Fist. “I’m making you anxious, aren’t I? Sorry. Vannya says I have a tendency to do that when I’m spouting off theories.”

“It is a frightening idea,” Fist admitted.

Locksher reached out a hand and hesitantly patted Fist’s arm. “You shouldn’t worry. If a blue eye had survived, Mellinda wouldn’t have stayed around linked to her body waiting for Jhonate to use that white dagger on her.”

“Oh. Good,” Fist said, feeling somewhat relieved.

“At least, I don’t think so,” Locksher said, tapping the end of the ink cylinder on his chin. He started writing in the notebook again. “I’ll know more when I’ve run some tests on these moonrats.”

 Fist was about to ask another question, but was interrupted as Crag stormed past the fire to stand in front of him. “Pack up, Fist. Our tribes must leave now.”

“Why is that?” Fist asked.

“This place is haunted,” Crag said as if the answer were obvious. “Ogres can not fight ghosts.”

“They are not ghosts,” Locksher said without looking up at the chief.

Crag shot the wizard an irritated glance. He did not like it when the human spoke to him informally, something Locksher did quite often. Fist had spoken to Locksher about it before, but the man didn’t understand ogre etiquette. When you are a person of low status speaking directly to the chief, you should always acknowledge that he was chief. Ogres had a complex system of status within the tribes and it was constantly ebbing and flowing. As far as the other ogres were concerned, the wizard was just one of Fist’s hangers on. Useful, perhaps, but basically a nobody.

“The wizard is right, father,” Fist said, trying to give his master a boost in Crag’s eyes. “The sounds are being made by big rats called moonrats.”

“Rats?” the chief scoffed. “Little rats make this noise that hurts me inside?”

This remark surprised Fist. It was the closest he had ever seen his father get to admitting he was frightened. “Big rats,” Fist corrected. “Big rats with eyes that glow in the dark.”

“Rat ghosts?” the idea seemed to frighten the chief even further. “This is Rub’s fault. He eats too many rats.”

“They’re not-,” Locksher began, but Fist nudged him. The human sighed. “Don’t worry, Chief Crag. Our great leader Fist’s magic will protect us from these ghosts. As long as he is here, they cannot hurt us.”

“Oh?” said Crag, a hesitant smile forming on his face. “Is this true, Fist?”

“Yes, Father,” Fist said dully. “I promise that I won’t let these moonrats hurt you.”

“Good!” Crag said, his smile widening even though the chorus of moonrat moans started up again. “I will tell the others.”

The chieftain strode over and announced to the tribe that Fist’s magic would protect them from the rat ghosts. For some reason this proclamation actually worked. The ogres lost their sense of panic. Some of them tried to go back to sleep. The only ones that weren’t mollified were Beard and Glug. The looks they passed Fist were resentful.

“Why did that work?” Fist wondered. “Nothing changed. Why aren’t they scared anymore?”

“You are Fist,” Puj said. She had stuck her head out of her furs and sat up. Squirrel was perched on her shoulder.

You are Fist
, Squirrel agreed.

“Why does that matter?” Fist asked. He had been with his people for close to three weeks now and he still didn’t understand why they trusted him. He had left their tribe after all. He had nearly killed Crag and then ran. He had lived with humans and fought against his own kind during the war. “Why do you have so much faith in me?”

“Faif?” Puj asked, unfamiliar with the word.

“Why do you all trust in me?” he asked.

“Crag telled us,” she said matter of factly. “When he picked the ones that got to go get you. He telled us about his dream.”

Fist blinked in surprise and turned back to look at his father. Crag had climbed back under his furs and was instructing the warriors around him to go back to sleep. “Crag had a dream?”

“He telled us,” she said again. A stiff breeze blew across the campsite, causing the fire to flare and Puj pulled her furs more tightly about her. “The night when you telled him not to join the Barldag, after you fighted him and runned away. Crag falled asleep for a long time. Then he had a dream. He seed the big evil coming. A giant speaked to him and sayed that Big Fist will come back one day and save the tribe.”

She ended her tale with a firm nod. Squirrel nodded along with her.
You will save them
.

He didn’t know what to think of that. “Did you hear that, Master Locksher?”

“Hmm?” said the wizard. He was tapping the ink cylinder against his chin again as he reviewed his notes.

“Never mind,” Fist said. Where did Crag’s dream come from? Was it possible for an ogre without spirit magic to have a dream that told the future? Maybe he would be able to get Maryanne to ask Sarine about it. At the very least, he resolved to talk to Crag about it in the morning.

Maryanne and the two academy warriors arrived back at the camp a few minutes later. They had succeeded in their mission. Qenzic carried one dead moonrat over his shoulders, while Maryanne and Lyramoor struggled with a live one. They had bound each set of legs together and simply lopped off the hand at the end of its tail. Its muzzle was tied shut with rope, but that didn’t keep it from making a constant series of snarling sounds.

Locksher led them a short distance from the rest of the camp and had them lay down their burdens. The living specimen’s eyes glowed a dull green. The dead one’s eyes were not lit, but Fist saw that they had once been green as well.

“Ah! Good job,” Locksher said. He donned his brightly colored scarf and set up a small stand. He placed a light orb on the stand to illuminate the area. He looked the beasts over in the orb’s soft glow. “These shall do nicely.”

“We jumped on a pack of ‘em,” Maryanne announced.

“We didn’t jump,” Lyramoor grumbled. “You shot them.”

“Right,” she said. “It was fun.”

“I hope it’s alright, Locksher,” Qenzic said, still breathing heavily from carrying the heavy beast back to the camp. “You only wanted two, but she killed probably six of them.”

“You only said to bring one alive,” Maryanne said defensively. “I had to kill the rest of the nasty things. They ain’t right. Something’s wrong with ‘em.”

Locksher was kneeling next to the dead one and examining the single small wound between two of its ribs, A heart shot. He gave her an appreciative look. “Tell me, did all of them have green eyes?”

“The pack I killed did,” Maryanne said.

“I saw some others through the trees,” Qenzic said. “They had green eyes too.”

“Interesting. No yellow eyes . . .” the wizard said. “You two had better go retrieve the other ones she killed.”

The two warriors shared exasperated looks. “Are you sure you need them?”

“It never hurts to have more specimens,” the wizard replied. “A broader sample size is best.”

“But . . . They’re heavy,” Lyramoor complained.

“Take the giant with you,” he said with an absent gesture.

They glanced back at the camp and at Charz’s sleeping figure. Neither of them looked excited about approaching the giant and Fist didn’t blame them. It would still be a few hours before daylight and Charz would not take kindly to being woken again.

“I’ll go with you,” he decided. Qenzic gave him a grateful look and Fist shrugged. “I’m not going back to sleep tonight anyway.”

“I suppose that’s fine,” the wizard said, stopping what he was doing long enough to make some notes. “Maryanne, I’ll have to ask you to make sure that none of the ogres come too close to my work. I don’t know how powerful the magic in the beasts is. We don’t need them affected by it.”

“I guess,” she said with a sigh, sitting down cross-legged not far from the wizard. She pulled out a whetstone from a pouch at her waist and began sharpening her knives.

I stay with Puj
, Squirrel announced. She had laid back down and he had disappeared into her furs with her where it was nice and warm.

Going to sleep, you mean
, Fist replied.

While you not dreaming
, Squirrel agreed.

Fist turned to go, but Locksher stopped him. “Fist, it is important that I complete a full study and I can’t do it from horseback. We will need to stay at this site all day tomorrow.”

“Right,” Fist said. It was a decent campsite, close to water, but he doubted that the ogres would want to stay there after the scares that night. “I’ll talk to Crag in the morning.”

It took Fist and the two academy warriors almost two hours to retrieve the rest of the moonrat bodies and haul them back. By the time they dropped them off with Locksher, the sky had started to brighten with the first of morning light.

Fist was about to ask Locksher if he could help when he received a panicked message.
Fist! Come
! Squirrel sent him an image of Beard and Glug confronting Puj. The two ogres had grabbed her arms and were trying to drag her away.

Fist let out a shout and ran towards the camp, but he could tell by the direction of the bond that Squirrel and Puj weren’t there. The ogress had gone a short distance away to urinate and Burl’s friends had followed her. Shouts rang out from that direction and Fist ran on.

He arrived just in time to see Crag throw a mighty punch that sent Glug sprawling. The chieftain had arrived there first and Burl was with him. Fist’s half brother had a fistful of Beard’s red hair and was holding his sword to the short ogre’s neck. Puj was standing close by, rubbing her arms. Squirrel was standing on her shoulder, patting her face gently.

“Sorry, Chief!” cried Glug as he tried to stand, blood streaming from his nose. Crag had not held back and the ogre was struggling to keep his balance.

Crag sent a mighty kick into Glug’s chest, knocking the ogre back down. “I telled you to leave Fist’s tribe alone!”

“We was just . . . stealing her back,” Glug wheezed. “For our tribe! It was Beard’s idea!”

“The Thunder People do not steal from Fist’s tribe!” Crag cried, sending another heavy kick into the fallen ogre’s abdomen. “I am chief! I gived her to him!”

“Puj, are you hurt?” Fist asked, coming to her side.

She shook her head, hiding her bruised arms behind her back. “Skirl tried to help, but Stinky Chief comed.”

They are strong, but I am fast
, Squirrel said.

Fist looked at Beard and saw several scratches on his face. He gave Burl a grateful nod and approached his father. The chief kicked Glug again, causing the ogre to wheeze in pain. “Thank you for helping, Crag.”

Crag’s face was full of rage and embarrassment. “The Thunder People is sorry. Do you want to kill him?”

 Fist grit his teeth and looked down at the groaning ogre. He was tempted. But what would it accomplish? Glug was brutish, but not more so than other ogres. He was just stupid. A follower. Fist found himself turning to look at Beard. There was defiance in the shorter ogre’s eyes.

“No. Not him.” Fist walked up to Beard. “Why do you do this? Why won’t you leave Puj alone?”

Beard glared at him. “I want her.”

“She is not yours,” Fist growled.

“She refused me!” Beard said. “She said no to my right as a men!”

“You have no rights!” Fist could feel his power build within him. Unbidden, a ripple of electricity sparked across his skin. He had a strong desire to blast the ogre with a bolt of lightning.