The Ogre Apprentice

by Trevor H. Cooley

  Fist’s eyes widened and he turned, grabbing Maryanne’s arm. “Run!” The two of them did so, shoving past the slow moving dead.

  The wall behind them fell forward, slamming into the opposite side, which Fist had already destabilized. A twenty-foot-wide section of the cliff crumbled, sending a plume of dust and snow and debris blasting past the ogre and gnome, knocking them forward. Maryanne kept her balance, allowing the force of the plume to push her faster.

  Fist stumbled and tripped over a body that was just awakening. He crashed to the ground, chest first, his mace and shield pulling free from his harness and sliding across the ground ahead of him. Squirrel, thinking ahead, had jumped onto Maryanne’s shoulder as soon as he realized what Fist was up to and had come out of the situation unscathed.

  Fist’s breastplate absorbed the fall and he quickly pushed himself up to his knees. Hands grabbed his leg and he felt pressure on his ankle as the dead gorc he had tripped over tried to bite through his boot. Grunting in surprise, Fist sent a surge of electricity down his leg and shocked the corpse still.

  He grabbed his shield and mace off the ground and looked back at the blockage of rock that was his handiwork. He smiled, pleased with himself. “They won’t be getting through that in the spring.”

  “I guess that means we can’t go back the way we came in then,” said Maryanne, her voice numb.

  Fist turned to see that the gnome had walked several yards further down the passage and was staring around the bend, wide-eyed. Squirrel, on her shoulder, stared with her, his tiny mouth agape. Uh-oh.

  Grimacing with trepidation, Fist stepped forward and followed their gaze.

  Stretching out before them were the shores of the black lake. The larvae-filled sludge that made up its waters didn’t move like the waters of a normal lake, but sat there, shuddering like a black pudding. The lake gave off a wave of unpleasant warmth and the air was filled with mist and swirling swarms of flies.

  The rocky shores themselves were littered with the bodies of the dead, infested, but resting with no instructions to carry out. They were mainly made up of goblinoids, but scattered throughout were humans, ogres, and even a couple giants. Hundreds of them had raised their heads at the sound of the passage’s collapse and were now looking in Fist’s direction.

  “Okay, that may have been a mistake,” the ogre admitted.

  A few hundred yards down the beach, its back to them, was the beast they had seen earlier. It was a great black dragon, its shoulders twice Fist’s height. Its wings were shredded and useless, one of them broken, and the back half of its tail hung limp. It hadn’t been in that bad of shape when Fist had seen it from above.

  As he watched, its head was rocked back and it roared again, causing the reclining dead to look back in its direction. Fist realized what was going on. This dragon was still alive, which was why it was able to roar, but it was infested with larvae, which was why the dead weren’t attacking it. It was, however, doing battle with something else that he couldn’t see. The fact that the dead around them weren’t helping with the battle told Fist that whatever it was fighting was infested too.

  “We should run,” Fist said pointing northward, away from the lake. Beyond the beach was a sloping rocky hillside and above that, not many miles in the distance, Fist could see the familiar mountainside territory of the Thunder People. “That’s the safest route.” The ground in that direction was also littered with corpses, but fewer in number.

  “Why are we standing here, then?” Maryanne asked. The corpses lining the beach were looking back in their direction again and many of them were beginning to rise.

  “Good question,” Fist said. He set up a field of electricity around his shield and ran, his mace enhancing his speed.

  It wasn’t a straight shot. There was a rocky ledge directly in front of them and they were forced to run parallel to the lake for a short distance before there was a climbable stretch of the hillside. Fist took the lead, weaving past clusters of corpses and blasting aside those individuals that stood in the way.

  Maryanne was right behind him, every once in a while firing a shock arrow at a dead thing that came too close. Fortunately, the bodies controlled by the larvae shambled towards them slowly, their limbs jerking almost as if pulled by strings.

  The dragon on the beach ahead of them, however, was moving fluidly as it battled its foe. Fist rushed forward, hoping to be able to climb the hill before it noticed them, but the quickest route to the slope took him just within its range of vision.

  The dragon didn’t seem to be doing too well against its opponent. Its long snake-like head would dart forward, only to be battered aside. Fist finally reached the bottom of the slope, just as the dragon’s opponent came into view.

  It was big and fierce and dangerous. It was the creature from Fist’s dreams; the one that had attacked him from within Squirrel’s pouch.

  The creature was half the height of the dragon and stood on all fours. Its front end was thick and muscular with silvery black fur, bulging arms and huge hands. Its rear end was that of a huge mountain lion with powerful legs and a tan coat. While Fist watched, it reared up on its back legs and beat its chest with its fists. Its massive black face was full of anger and it opened its mouth to show square teeth bordered by large fangs as it let out a mighty roar.

  His heart jumping, Fist turned and started up the hillside. He took one step before a searing pain flashed through his head. For a moment, the ogre saw double. He saw the hillside ahead of him, dotted with corpses climbing to their feet and he saw the toothy visage of the dragon swaying above him, full of anger and poised to strike.

  Hurts! cried Squirrel, clutching onto Maryanne’s shoulder.

  Fist stumbled and fell to his knees. He closed his eyes and all he saw was the dragon. Rage and fear poured through his mind. Fist’s thoughts blurred as if taken over by rage. It hurt. His whole body hurt. It was the dragon’s fault. He wanted to kill the dragon. He also wanted to drink the black lake. He knew he shouldn’t. The black lake stank. It wasn’t good for him. But he wanted to drink it anyway. Kill the dragon! Drink the black. Kill the dragon! Drink the black.

  “What are you doing?” Maryanne said, depositing a swift kick in the ogre’s posterior. “Keep moving! I’ve got one shock arrow left and it will be a few seconds before Chester brings any back.”

  “Th-the beast!” Fist said, twisting and pointing his mace at it.

  “Yeah, that thing’s weird.” Maryanne said, tugging at his collar. “It’s like a huge gorilla with cat feet. Let’s go before it sees us.”

  “No!” Fist said blinking his eyes. The images faded away, but the thoughts were still there. Drink the black. Kill the dragon!

  Fist stood again and looked up the hillside to the left. There it was, just like in his dream. A boulder, fifteen feet high and just as wide with a flat top. “There!” he said and stumbled towards it.

  “What the hell’re you-? Blast it!” Maryanne said and chased after him, firing two regular arrows along the way.

  Descending the hillside was a ten-foot-tall female giant. Its lips were rotting away, its teeth full of larvae. Maryanne’s arrows sprouted from its knees, locking the joints. The giantess jerked and tumbled forward, rolling down the hill and taking several shambling dead down with her.

  Fist reached the boulder. “Come on! Climb up!”

  “Why? That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard!” she said. “We’ll just get surrounded!”

  “We’re supposed to go up there,” the ogre said. He began climbing up, trying to ignore his splitting headache and sort out the rush of foreign thoughts in his mind. “It’s from my dream!”

  Kill the dragon. Drink the black. No! KILL THE DRAGON!

  “Your dreams are crap!” the gnome shouted, but climbed quickly, arriving on top before him and reaching down to help him up. “Now what?”

  Fist stood and looked back down at the angry beast below. “I think I need to help him.”

  “That thing
?” she said in disbelief. Some of the corpses had arrived at the base of the boulder. They were reaching upwards, their mouths open in silent hunger.

  “It’s not a thing. It’s a him,” Fist said. He set down his mace and shield and grasped his head. “His name’s . . . Rufus. I think he’s a rogue horse.”

  Like Gwyrtha? Squirrel muttered.

  Maryanne slapped her forehead. “By the great hairy pits of the gods, you’ve bonded!”

  “I think you’re right,” Fist said in realization. Of course that was it. That made so much sense. “I didn’t think I could. I thought my magic was too weak.”

  Head hurts! said Squirrel.

  “Darn rogue horses will bond to anything,” Maryanne complained. She saw a huge dead orc slowly climbing the boulder. One of her shock arrows finally reappeared and she fired down at it. There was an electric pop and it fell backwards, landing on top of the dead below it. “You would have to pick the worst possible time to do this!”

  “We’ve got to help him,” Fist said, sending a crackle of electricity down his leg and kicking the head of a climbing ogre corpse. “There are maggots inside his body and the lake is pulling at him, but somehow he’s fighting them off.”

  “Well, what do we do about it now?” Maryanne replied. “We’re stuck up here.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Fist said. “But first we need to get Rufus over to us.”

  “How?” she asked. Waiting for another shock arrow to return, she drew a long knife with her free hand and began slicing off the fingers of any dead thing that climbed high enough to grab the top of the boulder.

  “Shoot the dragon,” Fist said.

  “Fine. It’ll be a few more seconds before Chester brings me a shock arrow,” she said, reaching for her quiver. “But I got plenty regular ones.”

  Drink the black. Kill the dragon!

  Fist understood. The command to kill the dragon was Rufus’ way to fight the compulsion of the larvae. Instead of listening to the evil’s demands, he was funneling the anger at the dragon. The dragon was the enemy.

  Yes, Rufus! Fist urged. Kill the dragon!

  The dragon reared back, its front claws raking at Rufus, but the rogue horse hopped back out of the way. An arrow burst one of the dragon’s eyes. It jerked in surprise. Another arrow struck its shoulder. One pierced its neck.

  If the dragon had been fully dead, these attacks wouldn’t have mattered. But the creature, though driven mad and controlled by the evil compulsions of the larvae, still felt pain. It let out an ear-splitting roar.

  Finally, Maryanne’s quiver did its job. A shock arrow reappeared and Maryanne shot it right into the dragon’s open mouth.

  The dragon was a massive creature, but the electric energy contained in the arrow was enough to kill the majority of the larvae in its body. It swung its head around in pain and confusion and Rufus saw the opening he wanted.

  Kill the dragon! The powerful rogue horse leapt up and wrapped both arms around the dragon’s long neck. He squeezed and twisted and bit its neck with his two large fangs, while he raked at its body with the powerful claws on his rear legs. Hot blood poured from the stunned dragon. Then with a final crack, Rufus snapped its neck and it fell lifeless to the ground.

  “Kill!” Rufus roared and slammed the dead dragon with his mighty fists over and over again until the urge had passed. There was only one compulsion left. Drink the lake.

  “No!” Fist shouted aloud and through the bond. Come here, Rufus! Come to me! I am Fist! I will help you!

  The rogue horse turned his enraged gaze onto the boulder and the large figure standing on top of it. Kill the ogre!

  This wasn’t exactly what Fist had in mind. He shoved feelings of kindness through the bond. Come here Rufus. Don’t kill me, though.

  “Kill ogre!” Rufus roared. He reared back and beat his chest, then ran towards the boulder, using his powerful rear legs and the knuckles on his hands to propel him forward. He was fast.

  “He looks mad,” Maryanne warned.

  “I’m nice! Nice Fist!” Fist exclaimed as the rogue horse pounded up the hillside, reaching the boulder in seconds.

  “Kill ogre!” Rufus swatted aside the corpses in his way and leapt, his huge hands gripping the lip of the rock and pulling him up.

  “What do I do?” Maryanne asked.

  “Just fight the dead,” Fist said, and found himself on his back. Rufus was on top of him, the rogue horse’s rear claws digging into the ogres legs. Rufus reared back, his massive arms raised in the air, his fists ready to pound.

  Sorry Rufus, Fist said and sent threads of air and earth through the bond, shocking the rogue horse from within.

  Rufus jerked and collapsed on top of Fist, his weight pinning the ogre to the rock. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” Fist said to the unconscious beast, patting him gently.

  “Uh, we’re in trouble, here,” said Maryanne. Having fired all her arrows, shock and regular, she was back to slicing fingers with her knives. “There’s too many! I could use some help!”

  “I need to heal him,” Fist said, trying to work his way out form under Rufus without getting too close to the boulder’s edge. “Grab my mace. It’ll make you faster.”

  Maryanne snorted. “It would have to make me a lot faster.” She grasped the handle of the mace and swung her knife with wicked speed. A giggle escaped her lips. “That could do it.” The gnome warrior darted around the boulder, laughing as she sliced off the grasping digits of any creature that climbed close enough.

  Fist gave up on getting out from under Rufus and closed his eyes, entering the bond, checking the rogue horse’s injuries. He was immediately overwhelmed by the flood of colorful magic coursing through Rufus’ every cell. So this is what Justan saw when he looked inside Gwyrtha. By everything Fist could see, Rufus should just fall apart, but somehow a balance had been struck in the magic.

  Fist forced himself to look past the colors. Rufus had several minor puncture wounds and one long gash along his side, which was how the larvae had gotten inside his body. Those were easy enough for Fist to heal. The difficult part was discerning what to do about the remains of the dead larvae in his system. It was too complicated for him to figure out. Fist had no choice to leave them alone and hope that the rogue horse’s body would flush them out on its own.

  He withdrew his thoughts from the rogue horse’s body and called out to him. “Rufus! Wake up!”

  Rufus stirred. The rogue horse raised his head and looked around. “Ooh!”

  “Um, as fun as this is, I’m getting tired here,” Maryanne said. “Please tell me you’re done, Fist!”

  The wide boulder was now surrounded by hundreds of grasping dead, wanting noting more than to reach the people on top. Maryanne’s work had made this difficult for them though, because those in the front of the press no longer had fingers to climb with. Nevertheless, stronger and bigger creatures were pushing their way towards the front. To make things worse, the dead dragon had now risen and was making its slow way up the hillside towards them.

  Rufus rose on all fours and looked down at the ogre. “Ooh! Ooh! You!” the rogue horse said. He reached out and touched Fist’s face and a wide smile split his huge mouth. “Ooh! Fist!”

  “That’s right,” Fist said, smiling back at him.

  The rogue horse grabbed the front of Fist’s breastplate and pulled him to his feet. “Okay?” Rufus asked and Fist saw that Squirrel was already sitting on top of the rogue horse’s head.

  “If we can survive this,” Fist said, looking at the dangers that surrounded them.

  “Here,” Maryanne said, gasping as she handed the ogre back his mace. “Please tell me you have a great plan to save us that doesn’t require me to do anything else.”

  Fist shrugged at her and looked down at the milling mass beneath them. “I think I do. I’m going to try that cloud lightning spell.”

  “Didn’t you kill yourself doing that last time?” the gnome asked, her voice concerned. She stomped on the finger
s of one corpse and kicked it back into the crowd.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t permanent.” He gave her a playful smile. “I’d rather have you bring me back than Charz.”

  She smiled back. “Not funny.”

  “It’s the only thing we can do,” Fist said.

  He sent a swirling gust of wind around the boulder, kicking up dust. Then he reached out and sent a web of water into the air. A cloud of mist began form around the boulder. Fist focused, pushing the cloud outward. Sweat began to bead on his brow. This was going to be harder than he thought. He’d spent a lot of energy bringing down the rock wall and healing the rogue horse. If he released the spell as tired as he was now, he wouldn’t be able to ground himself. Squirrel and Rufus would die too.

  “Me!” said Rufus, tapping his chest with his fingertips. He pointed at Fist. “You!”

  “Yes, Rufus?” Fist said, confused at first. “Oh! Right! You’re a rogue horse and I can do that now! Good idea.” Fist reached through the bond and tried to duplicate the way Justan did it, tapping into the rogue horse’s energy reserves and pulling them into his own body.

  Suddenly he was filled with energy. Too much energy! His hands were shaking. His teeth chattering.

  Hurriedly, he threw out another web of water magic. The mist around the boulder thickened and spread along the ground, covering the hillside and a good portion of the shoreline. Fist turned his head and smilled back at Maryanne. “This is going to work.”

  Fist picked up his shield and mace and faced the mist. He started threads of air and earth crackling around his body. The thick cloud obscured everything making it seem so peaceful here, almost as if the four of them were alone atop the boulder high up in the sky. Then the dragon’s head rose out of the mist and reared back, its broken neck bent oddly.

  Fist jumped off of the boulder, leading with his shield. He crashed through the milling mass of dead, and stood, raising a thick barrier of earth magic over his skin, before pushing everything else he had into the crackling field of energy around him.

  Hands reached for him. Biting jaws. He could feel the pressing anger of the maggots all around him against the bond.