A slight smile spread on his face as the idea sunk in. This was good. This way the Thunder People would get the help they needed. He wouldn’t have to feel guilty about staying behind. It was out of his hands.
“No, Fist,” Darlan said. “You can go. I very much doubt that the other ogres would listen to Locksher otherwise. I spoke with the rest of the council last night and they agreed that this is an extraordinary circumstance. They have allowed me to transfer your apprenticeship to Locksher for the duration of this excursion.”
Fist stood there numbly for a moment. He found himself saying, “Then I should call him Master Locksher now?”
“This will be fun,” Locksher said, giving him an encouraging grin. He clapped the ogre on the shoulder. “I’ve never had an apprentice before. I’m quite sure there’s much I can teach you.”
Fist tried to put on a smile, but it felt as if his guts were twisted. He didn’t want to change masters. He didn’t really have a problem with Locksher, but he didn’t know him very well. In some ways Darlan was a mother to him. Even before he had met her, he had known her. Sharing in Justan’s memories had made it feel like she had raised him.
Trolls, Squirrel reminded him. Fist didn’t understand what he meant right away, but Squirrel pushed a memory into his head.
Oh! Fist’s posture straightened. “But this might be a bad idea. Justan needs Professor Locksher in Malaroo.”
“In Malaroo?” Darlan asked. She narrowed her eyes at him and Fist knew she was suspicious about his sudden announcement. “Why is that?”
“I should have brought it up yesterday, but with everything going on, I forgot. I promised Justan last night that I would tell you.” Fist told them about the troll-like creatures that had attacked some of the Roo-Tan men and described what they had looked like. “Justan says that Xedrion commanded his men to burn the bodies, but the one with the human face was resistant to fire.”
As he finished, Darlan had her arms folded and was deep in thought.
Both of Locksher’s eyebrows were raised. “Then it’s possible that these trolls were modified by the Rings of Stardeon.”
“That’s what Justan thinks,” Fist said, glad to see the expression on the wizard’s face. When the wizard raised both his eyebrows, he was really interested. “That’s why he wanted you to come down to Malaroo.”
“How exciting!” the wizard said, rubbing his hands together. “Modified trolls in Malaroo.”
“Do we know for sure that there are more of these creatures? Is this an invasion?” Darlan asked finally.
“I don’t know,” Fist replied. “These were the first ones that Jhonate’s people had seen.”
“Then I don’t see that we have enough information to send our Wizard of Mysteries to Malaroo when he’s needed elsewhere. Strange creatures in the swamp are not our concern,” Darlan said aloofly. “Besides, the Roo-Tan don’t like wizards. It’s doubtful he would be wanted there.”
“But Justan says that Jhonate is getting permission,” Fist said.
“Ooh,” Locksher said. He was hopping from foot to foot, his hands clenched together. “I am actually quite tempted by this, Sherl. I have been trying to get permission to enter Malaroo for years. There are so many interesting types of magic to study there. And then there’s the Rings of Stardeon. If they are in Malaroo, we simply must retrieve them.”
“We don’t know that the rings are involved in this,” Darlan said firmly. “Meanwhile, this ‘evil’ growing in the mountains is a threat right at Dremaldria’s border. It should take priority.”
Locksher grimaced. “But it’s Malaroo, Sherl.”
“I’ll go,” Vannya announced suddenly. Everyone turned their eyes to her in surprise.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Vannya,” Locksher said.
“Professor, you have trained me well over this past year. I can do this. I have studied all the same books you have during that time. I know everything about the rings that you do. I should be the one to go to Malaroo. Sir Edge can relay my findings to Fist so that I can keep you informed.”
Locksher seemed a bit crestfallen at this statement. “Ah, well that is good.” He looked her in the eyes. “Are you sure you want to go, Vannya? It is a long journey.”
“Of course I’m sure,” she said indignantly. “I have traveled long distances before. And since I wasn’t going to be able to travel to the mountains with you anyway . . .” She glanced at Darlan.
“I stand by what I said in the council meeting last night,” Darlan said. “Traveling with a large group of ogres is not a good place for you. They would not take a human woman seriously.”
“They would have taken you seriously,” Vannya declared, folding her arms.
“Well, that’s me, dear,” Darlan said, giving her a terse smile. “Nevertheless, I think this new idea of yours is a grand one. As a mage, you should be off proving yourself. Perhaps this is the event that gets you raised to wizard.”
Vannya smiled.
“But . . .” Fist said. This wasn’t going the way he had hoped. “Sending Vannya to Malaroo? What will Jhonate think?”
“She is a grown woman, Fist, and too mature to worry about petty past disagreements,” Darlan replied. “She will be fine. You can tell Justan to tell her I said so.”
“Jhonate has nothing to fear from me,” Vannya said, offended. She looked away. “Sir Edge made his decision long ago.”
“I’ll make sure to tell him that,” Fist said. That did it. He was going. He told himself that this hadn’t changed anything. He had come into the room assuming that he would have to go anyway. He placed a hand on Locksher’s shoulder. “Then it’s you and me, Master Locksher.”
And me! Squirrel said.
“And Squirrel,” Fist added. “Do not worry. I’ll make sure my father listens to you.”
“Charz shall be accompanying you as well,” Darlan said. “The giant made the request himself. I think it is a good idea. He can make nightly reports back to Alfred during the journey and Beehn can keep the council abreast of the situation.”
“Good!” Fist said, feeling a bit better about the whole thing. “When do we leave?”
“Excuse me,” said a voice behind them.
Fist turned in surprise. He had all but forgotten that Kyrkon was sitting there. The yellow sweater was completely gone and in its place were five large balls of yellow yarn in his lap. He was feeding one of them up to Sarine, who had finished the blue ball she had been working with when Fist had entered the room. Whatever she was knitting was long and narrow with intricate cabling.
“Sarine is getting tired,” the elf said. He pointed to the platter on the workbench. “Wizard Locksher, if you are finished with your study, would you mind putting that thing away?”
“Yes. Of course,” the wizard replied. He picked up his prongs and shut the flap of skin back over the hole in the dwarf’s head before picking it up.
“You leave in the morning,” Darlan said, answering Fist’s earlier question.
“That soon?” Locksher said as he carefully set the head back into the open chest. He put the instruments down and shut the lid. “But I have so much to prepare.”
“You have a full day to pack, Locksher,” Darlan replied. “You’ll be fine.”
“Shouldn’t we wait an extra day?” Fist asked. “We could take the portal then.”
In two days, the council was planning to reopen the portal that led from the Rune Tower to the outskirts of the academy. Darlan had felt it was long overdue, but the rest of the council had been hesitant to provide such an easy entry point into the Rune Tower where all of the Mage School’s great artifacts were kept. It had taken this long to work out all the security protocols needed.
“Nonsense,” said Sarine, setting down her knitting. She had regained her focus, but she looked tired indeed. Her cheeks were pale and eyes had lost some of their luster. Her voice was insistent, however. “We can’t have ten ogres tromping into the grounds past our defenses. The
y could go on a rampage.”
“I wouldn’t let them do that,” Fist said, feeling slightly offended. Of course, he could understand her position. Ogres were generally seen as enemies to humanity. Letting them into a place that had been constructed to keep such creatures out would be difficult for the wizards to accept.
“And you would stop all ten of them by yourself?” Sarine shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear. The rest of the council may try to overrule me, but I would put my foot down.”
“No one’s overruling you, damn it!” Darlan snapped. She frowned, her eyes looking confused. “I agree with you. We are not letting the ogres travel by portal.”
Fist didn’t understand why Darlan’s rebuke had been so harsh. Perhaps she had been arguing with her grandmother before he had arrived. “But Mistress Sherl and Mistress Sarine, if we took the portal it would save us two weeks of travel time.”
“And we will be taking full advantage of that time, Fist,” Locksher said. The wizard seemed agitated. There was a sudden tenseness in his voice. Evidently he and Darlan had already discussed the topic. The wizard rubbed at his jaw as he added, “This gives us plenty of time to learn more about the situation. We will find out exactly what we are dealing with before the academy gets involved.”
“The academy?” Fist asked.
“This could very well be a severe problem on Dremaldria’s border. That is the academy’s province,” Darlan said sternly.
Fist frowned. He hadn’t thought about it in that light. “So you want me to take the Thunder People there?”
“That depends on what the Academy Council wants. We’ll let you know on the way through Charz,” She was on edge. Her hands trembled as she continued, “I will be leaving for the academy as soon as the portal opens. I will tell them what we have learned so far and find out what they wish to do about it. We will be waiting for you when you arrive.”
Fist nodded slowly. “Okay, but-.”
“Don’t question it further, apprentice!” Darlan said, causing Fist to flinch.
“Now there’s no reason to shout at him like that, Darlan,” Locksher said. There was an unease in his expression that was uncommon for him.
“I will shout at who I wish!” Darlan yelled.
Fist’s eyes moved to the platter on the workbench. When Locksher had put the head back in the chest, he had left over a dozen tiny maggots behind. They were arching their little bodies in unison, their little black heads focused on Darlan.
“Now just a minute!” Vannya said.
“That will be enough.” Mistress Sarine said with a calm but firm voice. She stood and waved a hand. The maggots collapsed, squirming mindlessly.
The tension went out of the air. Darlan blinked and looked at the platter, then back at the rest of them with an ashen expression. “I-I’m sorry. I owe all of you an apology. I can’t believe I let those things affect me like that.”
“It was my fault,” Locksher said. “I was thinking about too many things and got sloppy. I shouldn’t have left any of the larvae on that tray. Not knowing what I know.”
Vannya placed a hand on his shoulder. “You were distracted. It’s okay.”
“No it isn’t!” Locksher said, looking into her eyes. “I know better. Dealing with things like this is what I do. If I make mistakes like this, I could get people killed. Maybe even you.”
“Calm down, dear,” Sarine said. “It was just a little tiff. Some frayed emotion. No one was hurt. We just learned how affective the magic in those little worms can be, didn’t we?”
She swayed a little and Kyrkon grasped her arms to steady her. “Easy, Begazzi.”
She sighed and patted the elf’s hand. “I’ll be fine. Fist, dear, will you dispose of that menace, please?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Fist summoned vibrating threads of air and earth magic, wrapping them around his hand. He reached towards the platter with one finger and touched the metal. There was a loud zap.
Each squirming maggot burst with a puff of smoke.
Chapter Eight
Fist went back out to talk to the ogres alone. Though there were still a bevy of archers on top of the walls and soldiers in the trees that were watching them, the humans were told to stay back. Fist walked towards his former people with determination, puffing out his chest and building his confidence in his mind. He needed to show his father that he wasn’t being manipulated by the little peoples. This journey was Fist’s decision and he would make sure that Crag knew he was expected to follow his lead. This was why he approached them alone.
And me, Squirrel was on his shoulder providing support.
And Squirrel, he added. The important thing was that Fist would show his dominance and lay down the rules for the journey. If he had a human or Charz at his side, their presence could undermine what he was saying. Darlan and Locksher had agreed it was a good idea. In fact, Darlan had kind of suggested the idea.
As part of his plan, Fist had returned to his room and changed. He had taken off his regular student’s robe and buckled on the steel breastplate and chain greaves that Bettie had made him. Then he had pulled his hooded traveling robes on and strapped his weapon harness over that.
As he rounded the wall and the ogres came into view, Fist was a truly impressive figure. He was the perfect specimen of an ogre male, 600 pounds of pure muscle and fully armored with his large iron shield on his back and the spikes of his wicked mace sticking up over one shoulder.
The ogres were standing around a large campfire, laughing as they watched two of their number wrestling on the ground. One of the combatants was Rub, Old Falog’s son. Crag was pacing next to the brawlers shouting out encouragements.
The ogres must have grown bored with waiting. His eyes scanned the rest of the crowd and saw that several of them had blackened eyes or brown leaf poultices on their faces. The battles must have been going on for most of the day already. Crag had likely started the fighting himself as a way to keep up morale.
Fist wasn’t surprised by this behavior. Fighting was a common form of ogre entertainment. It was a way of settling any dispute in the tribe. Often times the disputes were started as an excuse for a brawl. These battles ended when one of the two either gave up or was unconscious. This might seem like a foolhardy pastime for warriors. After all, it wouldn’t benefit the tribe if one of its warriors were killed or disabled. But ogres were tough. It was rare that one of these fights resulted in any injuries more serious than a few bruises or a concussion.
The ogres were so intent on the struggle that they still hadn’t seen Fist approach. As he came closer, he saw that Rub had gotten the upper hand. The ugly ogre had straddled his adversary and was raining down blows with his meaty fists. Just as the ogre on the bottom was about to give up, Crag ran up and kicked Rub in the side. With a grunt of protest, Rub fell over and the fight began again in earnest.
“Crag! I am here!” Fist bellowed.
“Fist comed back!” Crag said with wide smile. The two ogres in front of him continued their struggle. Crag kicked Rub again. “Stop now. Fist is back.” The two combatants, their faces swollen from the repeated blows, turned bloody grins in Fist’s direction.
Even the female ogre showed signs of fighting. Puj had brown leaf mash shoved up both nostrils and the corner of her mouth was crusted with blood. Fist frowned. That wasn’t correct ogre behavior. There were no other females here for Puj to fight. Fully grown ogresses were just as strong as male ogres, but males did not fight with the females. They were too valuable.
“Fist!” cried several of the other ogres, following Crag’s lead. Burl and two ogres that were with him were the only ones silent. Those three gave him dubious looks.
“Do you fight with the women now?” Fist asked, gesturing at Puj.
“Ogre mens do not fight the womens,” Crag protested He looked at Puj and blinked, noticing her injuries for the first time. “What happened to your face?”
She glanced briefly at Burl and the two ogres with him, then stuck out her chin
and said, “I could not fight. So I punched myself!”
The others nodded. This happened some times when ogres became too excited. If there wasn’t something to fight, they hit whatever was available. Crag seemed satisfied by this and he returned his attention to Fist.
“What is this you is wearing?” the chieftain asked, looking Fist up and down in disapproval. “Metal skin?”
“This is my evil-fighting armor,” Fist said, using the phrase he had practiced beforehand. He pounded his chest with his fist, but the metal didn’t give the loud ping he was hoping for. It was more of a thud and it hurt his hand. He didn’t let his pain show.
“You is ready for fighting the evil?” Crag said, his expression slowly changing to admiration. “You is coming?”
“I am,” Fist said.
Crag shouted with glee. “Fist is Thunder People again!”
“No!” Fist said, causing his father’s smile to wither. “I am Fist of the Big and Little People Tribe. My tribe will go into the mountains and fight this evil.”
Crag frowned. “But you is Thunder People.”
“The Big and Little People will fight the evil.” Fist repeated. He folded his arms and gave Crag his most imposing stare. “We will allow the Thunder People to help us destroy it.”
“You is the Big and Little People?” Burl scoffed and his two friends snorted. “One ogre is not a tribe.”
“My tribe is more than ogres!” Fist said, pointing to Squirrel, who was standing proudly, with his little arms folded in front of him. “We have many peoples. My tribe sends me and Squirrel and the giant, Charz. We will also bring the human wizard, Locksher.”
“You will not join the Thunder People again?” Crag asked. He looked saddened.
Fist found the look in his father’s eyes unsettling. Crag didn’t feel sadness. “No. But we will ally with you.”
“Ally?” asked Bash. The tall ogre scratched his head as if unsure what he meant.
The Ogre Apprentice Page 14
