The Ogre Apprentice

by Trevor H. Cooley

  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?”

  “A little.” Fist pointed in the direction of his bonded, on the other side of the cliffs. “Squirrel is that way, still a few miles away.”

  “Is the little guy still not talking to you?” she asked.

  “He shut off the bond,” Fist replied bitterly.

  “Well, try and talk to him. See if you can get a better idea of where he is. That could help us,” she gestured at the scattered path before them. “See if he can give you a landmark we’ll be able to see from the top of the ridge, something that we could head straight for and cut into their lead.”

  “I’ll try,” Fist said.

  They continued up the path and Fist focused his thoughts. He reached out to Squirrel, coming up against the spot where the animal had shut him out. Fist knew that he could push his way through if he wanted, Squirrel’s mind wasn’t powerful enough to hold him back, but Fist also knew that doing so would just make Squirrel angrier.

  Instead, he simply yelled. Squirrel, we are closer to you now! Will you talk to me?

  The blockage opened up slightly. Mad at you! Fist got the impression that Squirrel was hiding behind a rock. His little heart was beating madly in his chest.

  We are coming, Fist said, sending Squirrel an image of himself and Maryanne standing next to the whistling boulders. We need to know how to find you. We can reach you faster if you show me something to look for.

  Cautiously, Squirrel skittered to the top of the small boulder he was hiding behind and showed Fist what he could see. Squirrel was standing near the foot of a sheer cliff. In front of him was the exit point of a tiny stream that had sliced the cliff in two, forming a narrow canyon.

  I go inside, Squirrel sent. He heard a roar of anger and jumped to the side as a rock skipped across the top of the boulder where he had been standing. Squirrel ducked back behind the rock. They are angry.

  Don’t get too close to them. I’m coming, Fist said.

  I kill them, Squirrel insisted.

  No! You know they’re too big for you to fight, Fist reasoned. Just stay close to them. I’m coming. I’ll kill them.

  You won’t! Squirrel said angrily. Fist is too nice.

  “I am not!” Fist said both aloud and through the bond, causing Maryanne to look back and arch an eyebrow at him. You know that’s not true. I have killed our enemies many times!

  Not like this, Squirrel replied. I kill them! I find a way.

  “Wait for me. They are ogres and you are a squirrel!” Fist insisted. I’ll do it.

  Then kill this one, Squirrel snapped and closed the bond off again.

  Fist groaned in frustration. What did he mean, ‘kill this one’?

  “He’s still not listening to you?” the gnome surmised, picking her way through the boulders.

  Fist snorted. “He’s angry at me. When I talked to him this morning he wasn’t even relieved that I was alive.”

  She shrugged. “Well, he would’ve known if you were dead. And he would have felt Locksher healing you, so I’m sure he wasn’t surprised.”

  “Maybe,” Fist said. She was right of course. “But this isn’t like him.”

  “Did he show you anything that could help us get to them faster?” Maryanne asked.

  Fist told her what Squirrel had shown him, but as they climbed up the narrow curving path through the rocks, he grew quiet, worried that Squirrel would make a mistake and get himself killed.

  The next section of the trail was a steep climb up a crumbling slope of loose rock. Finding a firm foothold was difficult and Beard and Glug’s heavy feet had made obvious dents in the gravel on their way up. As Maryanne carefully picked her way up the slope, she broke the silence.

  “Why is Squirrel so mad at you?

  Fist didn’t respond until they reached the top of the incline. “Squirrel is mad because this is my fault. He tried to warn me.”

  “About Beard and Glug?” she asked.

  “He told me to kill them and I refused. I could have done it. Instead, I let Glug go and I healed Beard. I healed him!” He growled and kicked a large rock, sending it down the incline. This set off a small rockslide and the sound of tumbling rocks echoed across the mountainside. The kick also smashed his toe and the way it throbbed in his boot did nothing to help him feel better.

  “Ohh, I’m so stupid! Squirrel said to kill him and I saved him instead!” The frustration in Fist’s voice grew as he spoke. “Then I drained my magic so I could sleep. Mistress Sherl warned me not to, but I did it anyway.”

  “Come on, big guy. You couldn’t have known what would happen,” Maryanne said, trying her best to sound soothing.

  “No? Why? I should have known Crag was lying when he said he’d keep them away. He never protected her before!” Fist said. “And I knew, I knew that Beard wouldn’t obey tribal rules. I-I just-!”

  “You just figured that he wouldn’t dare try anything with broken ribs,” the gnome said, continuing to lead the way up the path. “You figured that he wouldn’t dare hurt her if she stayed close to you. Those were all reasonable things to assume, Fist. Anyone would have done the same.”

  Fist snorted. “Would you?” He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. “Would you have let Beard live knowing what he had done to her?”

  “No,” she said honestly. “If Beard was lying on the ground in front of me and I knew his neck was broke I would have stomped on it and killed him right there. That monster was obsessed with her. I know that look when I see it and I could see it in his eyes.” Maryanne pulled her arm out of his hand and continued up the path. “But you’re a better person than I am. You did exactly the kind of thing Sarine would want me to do. You gave him a chance to change.”

  Fist swallowed. It had felt right at the time, but what did that matter? He had been wrong. “Not again. This time he’s dead.”

  “Good,” she said. “Because if you let him live, I was gonna kill him anyway.”

  The trail took them through a small stand of pine trees and when they came out the other side, a vista opened up in front of them. They had crested the ridge. In front of them was a small valley and beyond that, a mountainside even larger than the one they were on. Trees grew sparser and sparser in this region. It was mostly gray and red rock covered in gravel and scrub brush with a few icy drifts of snow clinging in the shadier spots.

  At the end of the valley Fist could see the cliff face and the fissure with the small stream exiting at the base of it. He pointed it out to the gnome. “It’s so far away. How are they still so far ahead of us?”

  “They must know we’re hunting them,” Maryanne guessed. “Because they haven’t stopped yet. All they do is keep running.”

  “They see Squirrel,” Fist said. “He’s chasing them. He’s letting them see him.”

  “Well,” she said, scanning the slope. “We can make up some ground here. We don’t have to stick to the trail. We’ll head straight for that crack.” She rubbed her hands together and smiled. “This will be fun.”

  “How?” said Fist.

  “We’ll do a hillside run.” She pointed down the slope at a section that was steep, but mostly boulder free. “Just keep going, let your weight pull you towards the bottom, and don’t trip. Easy!”

  Fist swallowed. That did not look easy to him. “Wait.”

  But she was off. Maryanne left the trail and sped down the slope, her legs a blur. The gnome warrior was so agile, she made it look easy. And fun. He could hear her laughing.

  Gritting his teeth, Fist followed. It wasn’t so bad at first. He just had to keep one foot in front of the other and avoid any big obstacles. It was actually quite exhilarating, like w
hen he ran with his mace.

  Then the slope steepened. That exhilaration turned to panic. He was no longer propelling himself. It was like he was being pulled down the slope. He had to move his legs faster and faster to keep from tumbling end-over-end as he careened towards the bottom. In desperation, he reached up and yanked his mace from its sheath. The magic kicked into gear and his legs were able to keep up. Still, it was more frightening than fun, and by the time he came to a stop next to the gnome, he was gasping for breath.

  He put his mace away and bent over, grasping his knees. “That was too dangerous!”

  “Aw, calm down. I knew you could handle it,” she said. The gnome was smiling and seemed barely winded at all.

  “No you didn’t!” he said. “You don’t know me that good! I almost fell.”

  “But you didn’t,” Maryanne pointed out. “And we’re a lot closer to that cliff.”

  The two of them were interrupted by a howl of pain that came from the direction of the fissure. Motioning for silence, Fist took the lead and headed straight for the sound. It echoed out again, an angry outcry of agony. Both of them drew their weapons and the next time they heard it, there was no doubting its source.

  “Come back!” shouted a voice that was unmistakably ogre. “Beard! Help me!”

  Fist rounded a large rock and Glug came into view. The ogre was sitting close to the base of the cliff, his back resting against a boulder. A large metal device was clamped onto one of his feet and the ground around him was covered in blood.

  The ogre was sobbing in pain and when he saw Fist and Maryanne approach, he raised his hands. “No! Ghost of Fist, I did nothing. Beard did it!”

  “Liar!” Fist held his mace at the ready and approached, ignoring the ogre’s piteous state.

  “Wait!” Glug cried, reaching out to him beseechingly. “Yes! I killed you with the rock. But Beard made me!”

  Fist stepped closer, his eyes cold with rage. “Why? He lost! Crag told you to stop. Why couldn’t you leave us alone?”

  “Beard would not stay a Thunder People any more. He sayed, ‘Come, Glug. We start a new tribe. Let stupid ones fight the evil. We will go far away and be the Beard People.’” He looked down. “I sayed no! But he maked me go. Then he sayed we needed Puj to be our women. But she was with you, so . . .”