The Ogre Apprentice (33 page)

Puj watched him, the light from the orb reflecting in her eyes. “I like you, Big Fist,” she said softly.

“I . . . like you too, Puj,” Fist said. He was worried that she might read more into his meaning, but her only reaction was a slight widening of her smile. “I’m glad you’re safe now.”

With a sudden pop, the light winked out and Fist felt his body shutting down. He lay back down and rolled to his back. His eyelids drooped and he welcomed the dreamless sleep that would come.

Then Puj was leaning over him. She bent down and he felt her lips close over his. Fist was too tired to resist. After worrying about this for so long, he was surprised to find that he really didn’t mind. It felt good to be kissed.

Puj pulled her furs over his and slid into his bedroll with him. His will to keep her away was gone and when he didn’t try to push her away, she snuggled up close to him, and laid her head on his chest. She wrapped one arm and leg around him. It was quite nice, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“Thank you for fighting,” Puj said softly.

Fist’s eyes closed completely. “You are part of my tribe,” was all he as able to mumble before drifting to sleep.

The next thing Fist was aware of was an explosion of pain against his skull. A high pitched ringing filled his ears.

Fist
! Shouted Squirrel’s thoughts. They seemed both close and far away at the same time.
Fist help! Puj
!

He tried to open his eyes, but a stinging liquid filled them. He willed his body to move but managed only a weak twitch. The air was full of a confusing cacophony of sound and yet was quiet. It was all so fuzzy. He tried to reply.
Squirrelllll
?

Fist! Fist
. . . . Squirrel’s thoughts faded and then there was darkness.

“Fist! Can you hear me?” asked a voice Fist couldn’t quite identify.

“Now-now. Give him a moment. I’ve just finished,” replied a calm male voice. It took a moment, but Fist recognized it. That voice belonged to Locksher.

Fist’s eyes fluttered open to the soft blue of early morning. “Wha? Where?”

“Oh good, you’re awake,” said Maryanne, placing her head on his chest.

“Huh?” Fist turned his head. His face was wet. His pillow drenched in blood. “What happened?”

“Slowly, Fist,” Locksher said. “You’ve had severe head trauma.”

“My head?” Memories of the night before started to come back to him.

“They smashed your head with a boulder,” Maryanne said. She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I thought you were gone.”

“They, who? Beard and Glug?” He tried to sit up. “Where are they? Where is Puj? Where’s Squirrel?”

“We don’t currently know Squirrel’s location,” Locksher began.

“He’s to the north,” Fist said, the bond answering his question. “He’s alive, but . . .” Squirrel’s thoughts were a mask of grief and rage. “Puj?”

“I’m sorry,” Locksher said.

Maryanne sobbed. “She’s dead.”

“No.” Fist pushed Maryanne away.
Squirrel
! He climbed to his feet and swayed, nearly passing out. “Where is she?”

“Be careful,” Locksher admonished. “It is not time for jumping about. You had a fractured skull and your brain was seriously damaged. I just finished a rather delicate repair.”

Fist looked around. Half the camp was gone. The few ogres that remained were huddled near the fire wide-eyed and talking furtively. Charz was the only one still sleeping. Fist swayed again and Maryanne helped steady him.

“I’m sorry!” she said. “It happened so quick. We were all caught by surprise.”

 “
Squirrel
!” Fist shouted both aloud and through the bond.

You let them live
! was Squirrel’s accusatory reply. Now that Fist was more awake, he could tell that his bonded was some distance away. He wasn’t hurt, but was running fast along the ground.
Now Puj is dead
!

The accusatory nature of his tone hit Fist like a punch to the stomach. He had to see her. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe there was still time to do something.

He gripped Maryanne’s arm. “Bring me to her.”

“This way,” the gnome said.

“Just a moment,” Locksher said. He waved his arm, sending out a net of air and the blood and grime fell from Fist in a sheet, hitting the ground and leaving the ogre clean. “I’ll go with you. Just be careful. You may be unsteady on your feet for awhile.”

“Here. This’ll help,” Maryanne said, handing Fist a piece of dried meat before she jogged to the northwest of the camp.

Fist shoved the meat into his mouth and chewed as he followed her. The cold ground stung his bare feet, but he didn’t take the time to put on his boots. The meat was uncomfortably spicy and he almost spit it out, but he was too busy focusing on keeping his footing. His legs were weak and his vision swam.

“Are you alright, Fist?” Locksher asked. The human was beside him, glancing at him in concern. “I healed the damage to your brain, but synapses are funny things. They tend to have a long memory for trauma.”

“I’m fine,” Fist growled. He tripped on an uneven bit of ground and nearly fell, but caught himself. His mouth was now afire from the meat he was chewing, but the feeling was somehow invigorating. His mind cleared and his steps became more secure. There must have been something magical in the spice.

Maryanne led them through some large rocks and into a small copse of pine trees before she stopped. A group of ogres were standing together, chanting over Puj’s body. It was a death chant, something usually reserved for important members of the tribe. Crag himself led the dirge, his face grim.

“Stop!” Fist shouted.

Crag’s eyes brightened as he saw Fist approach. “Fist! You are better-.”

“Back away!” Fist snapped, pushing both Rub and Bash aside so that he could kneel next to Puj.

The ogress was lying on her back, her eyes open and unseeing as they reflected the morning sky. The ogres had moved her body into the standard pose for a dead female, with her fingers spread and both hands placed over her womb.

Fist placed his hands over her and sent out his magical energies. He immediately knew that he was far too late. Her body was still warm, but she was no longer breathing and her heart had stopped. There were techniques for getting a heart started again, but he knew it wouldn’t matter.

Elemental magic could do a lot of things. Experienced wizards could fix almost any injury, heal a broken body completely. They could even get the blood flowing in a dead body and keep it breathing. But they could not bring back a soul once it had gone. Wizards had tried different techniques for thousands of years, but without a soul the brain would not function. Without the assistance of magic, the heart would stop and the tissues would die and decay.

Fist had practiced his healing magic on corpses magically preserved in this way many times at the Mage School. The wizards could create whatever wounds they wished and have students repair it over and over again and the body would react in the same way a living one would. But Fist could tell the difference. That absence of a soul was obvious in every cell even if it was technically alive. Those corpses were no longer a person. Just an intricate puzzle made of meat and bone.

Working his magic on those bodies had always been unpleasant for Fist and he got that same feeling when looking inside Puj now. He stopped and leaned back, tears streaming down his face. He reached up and closed her eyes. Doing so wasn’t an ogre tradition, but it was a human one, and Fist found it much more appropriate.

“May I?” asked Locksher. “I haven’t had a chance to examine her yet.”

“You haven’t?” Fist said, turning an angry gaze on the wizard. “Why not? An hour ago you could have saved her!”

The wizard’s eyebrows rose in shock at the anger in Fist’s voice. “You were dying when I came upon you, Fist! There were shards of bone in your brain matter. I was in the middle of delicate repairs to your cerebrum when Maryanne discovered Puj’s corpse.”

Fist’s scowl deepened at the wizard’s casual use of the word corpse. “I was alive then. There might still have been time for her. You might have been able to revive her and come back for me later.”

“You know that healing cannot bring back the dead,” Locksher replied coldly. “Stopping in the middle of what I was doing may have killed you as well. Where would we be then? Now back away, apprentice, and let me examine her!”

Fist didn’t stop scowling, but backed away and gave the wizard room to work. Crag was frowning as he looked from Locksher to Fist. This was the first time the chieftain had seen the human speak that way to his son. The way Fist had given in disturbed him.

Fist wasn’t worried about what Crag thought at that point. He had deserved to be dressed down by his master. Locksher had done the correct thing in acting as he had. Fist’s anger came from guilt. His own mistakes had led to this.

“She was strangled,” Locksher said. “Her larynx was crushed. She fought back, though.”

“She did?” asked Fist.

Locksher lifted one of Puj’s hands. “There is blood and tissue both under her fingernails and in her mouth that do not belong to her. There are also broken bones in her hand consistent with throwing punches.”

“Good for her,” the gnome said.

“How did this happen?” Fist asked, turning his glare on his father. “You promised that they would not touch my tribe again.”

Crag’s face was red with embarrassment. “I do not know. I telled them to stay away or they would be banished.” He looked down. “They waited until we was all asleep.”

They were interrupted as Charz ran up, knocking two ogres aside to stand by Fist. He carried his trident in one hand and his face was grim as he looked down on Puj’s silent form. “I just heard. Why didn’t anyone wake me up?”

Fist ignored the giant. “Who was on watch?”

“Rub and Drog,” Crag said.

“I am sorry, Big Fist!” Rub blurted as Fist’s eyes fell on him. The ugly ogre cowered, his voice filled with fear. “I did not seed them!”

“I will let you beat him later,” Crag said, giving Rub a swift kick. “First you will kill Beard and Glug. Drog and Burl went to hunt them for you.”

Fist sighed, sharing a glance with Maryanne. Those two were terrible trackers. “Squirrel is tracking Beard and Glug right now. They are several miles northwest of us.”

Crag looked in that direction and frowned. “It is a hard way. They will not move fast.”

“Let’s go now then,” Charz said, menace in his voice.

“Just a minute,” Fist closed his eyes and concentrated.
Squirrel, have you found them
?

Yes
, Squirrel replied, his thoughts still full of rage. Fist caught a quick glimpse of the two ogres pointing up at a tree near where Squirrel was standing. Glug looked frightened, while Beard’s gaze was angry and pained. There was blood on the short ogre’s face.

Don’t let them see you
! Fist said.
I’m coming
.

I kill them
, Squirrel promised.

No! Wait for me
! Fist said, but Squirrel closed off his side of the bond.

Fist growled. “I must go now. Squirrel wants to fight them.”

“We will all go,” Crag said.

“No! I’ll go. Squirrel is my bonded and this is my fight,” Fist said. “The rest of you should continue to the Thunder People territory. Me and Squirrel will meet back up with you along the way.”

“Forget that,” said Maryanne. “I’m going too.”

“No. This is my responsibility!” Fist said.

Maryanne spat. “I don’t care if you’re the leader or not. I’m going! I’m a good tracker and besides, Puj was part of my tribe too.”

Fist pursed his lips, but could not disagree with her argument. “Okay, you can come too, but that’s all. The rest of you go on.”

“Hey! I’m part of the tribe!” Charz said, eager to join the hunt.

“Come here,” Fist said. He pulled Maryanne and the giant to the side and beckoned Locksher over. “Listen, Charz. I need you to stay with Professor Locksher.”

“Why?” the giant grumbled.

“Because you are the only one besides me that the ogres respect,” Fist said. “Crag is not going to listen to Locksher or Qenzic or Lyramoor.”

“He’s right,” Locksher said. “Besides, if all three of you are gone, our party will have no way to keep in contact with the academy or Mage School.”

Charz scowled. “Come on. We wouldn’t be gone that long.”

“Oh, we’ll be done with those two and back with the rest of you by dark,” Maryanne promised.

“Maybe,” Fist said. The bond told him that Squirrel was chasing after the ogres again and as quickly as he had to move, Maryanne’s guarantee seemed like an overly optimistic statement. “But we can’t know for sure, Charz. Just keep everyone moving.”

“Fine,” Charz said. “But I’m gonna beat on Rub and Drog if you ain’t gonna do it.”

“Good,” Fist said. “Master Locksher, would you make sure Puj gets a nice deep grave?”

“Of course,” the wizard said. He could dig one up for her in seconds with his earth magic. “I’ll start on it now.”

Fist walked back over to his father. “I am going and taking Maryanne with me. I am making Charz the leader while I am gone. He will represent my tribe and you are to listen to him.”

“But . . .” Crag’s face was pained. “Why you must go? We need you to fight the evil.”

“This won’t take us long,” Fist promised. “I will catch back up to you as soon as I have hunted Beard and Glug down.”

Fist knelt back down next to Puj. He knew that she was no longer in her body but he kissed her forehead gently anyway. His heart lurched as he thought back to the kiss they had shared the night before. “I am sorry, Puj. I failed you. But I will get them, I promise.”

Fist went back to the camp and put on his boots and breastplate and shield. He looked at his bedroll, but decided against bringing it. The extra gear would just slow him down and he would need every bit of speed he could get. Instead, he grabbed his heavy winter apprentice robes. They would be hot during the day, but if he wasn’t able to make it back to the others by nightfall the warmth would come in handy.

Fist and Maryanne set out at a swift trot, following the trail that Beard and Glug had taken. It was a rarely used path, more of an animal trail, but ogre hunters were adept at finding and taking advantage of these types of trails, and the two experienced ogres had stuck closely to it.

 The trail meandered at times, winding around obstacles and detouring next to small creeks or water holes. Maryanne’s keen eyes often found ways for them to skip past these diversions and rejoin the trail further along, helping to cut into the lead that the ogres had on them. Fist spent the time brooding and going over the events leading up to Puj’s murder in his mind.

The guilt threatened to crush him, but he forced himself forward. He wished that he could speak to Justan, tell him what happened. Justan would know what to say, come up with something that would help. Unfortunately that wasn’t possible, not while on the move. Even if they stopped to rest, reaching him at this time of day would be difficult. There were only a few days before Yntri Yni’s funeral and Justan was working hard on preparations with Jhonate’s father and the elves.

The trail led them to a long sloping incline at the base of sheer cliffs. A large part of the cliff face had fallen away at some time in the past creating a boulder field. The air here was filled with a chorus of mournful whistles.

“Hurt’s my ears,” Maryanne said, as she peered out over the path ahead.

It took a moment for Fist to realize where the whistles were coming from. The long years of erosion had caused a unique natural formation. The mountainside funneled wind across the slope and small gaps in the rocks had been worn into smooth round holes. Fist found the sound both eerie and oddly musical. It was as if the wind were using the rocks to sing to them in a language only the elements themselves could understand.

She placed her hands on her hips. “How much ground have we gained on them?”