The Ogre Apprentice (15 page)

“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. They 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.

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.

Ally wasn’t a strong enough word, Fist realized. He took another tactic. “I am an ogre mage.”

Ogre mages rarely stayed in the tribes they were born into. Their ability to use magic gave them a high enough status that they could stay outside of tribal conflicts. Therefore, most of them preferred to keep to themselves or started small tribes of their own. The other tribes gave them food and women to ensure that the mages would help them when needed.

Fist raised one massive arm into the air and electricity crackled visibly around his fist. “I will lead you to destroy this evil!”

The ogres gasped at Fist’s reminder of his powers. Crag’s eyes widened, but jaw clenched at the idea of Fist taking charge. “I am chief.”

“You are not my chief,” Fist said. “You are chief of the Thunder People. As ogre mage, I will lead my tribe to the mountains and if you want us to help the Thunder People, you will listen to my rules.”

“You give the Thunder People rules?” Crag growled.

“I do,” Fist replied and the rest of the ogres looked warily from him to Crag.

It was obvious that the chieftain did not like this turn of events, but Fist had expected this reaction. Crag never had liked it when an ogre mage came to his territory and tried to tell him what to do. Well, he would just have to learn to deal with it.

Fist started with something Crag could not argue against. “The first rule is that our tribes will work together until the evil is destroyed. This means we will not war with each other. We will share our food. We will protect each other.”

Crag thought for a moment as if looking for a trick. Then he nodded slowly. “I agree to these.”

Fist nodded back at him. It was a good beginning. “Also, the Thunder People will not fight any of the humans or other little people we come across on the way.”

Crag scowled. “No fighting? Are all little people in your tribe now, Fist?”

“No, but they are under my protection,” he said, giving Crag a look of such firmness that the ogre blinked in surprise.

“What about the little peoples that is evil now?” Asked one of Burl’s friends, boldly stepping forward. He was a stocky ogre with a thick beard. “We should let them bite us and turn us evil too?”

“We will fight the evil,” Fist said, doing his best to avoid the question. The dreams he had been having loomed heavily in his mind. Hopefully Locksher would find a way to heal those affected by the worms. He didn’t want to have to kill any innocents if he did not have to.

“But what of the-!” Burl began.

“Stop, Burl!” Crag said, holding up a hand. “You are not chief.” He returned his attention to Fist. “You telled me long ago that the little peoples is not our enemies. You was right. I accept these rules, ogre mage.”

“Good,” said Fist. A smile split his face. This had gone much better than he had hoped. Darlan would be proud.

Crag turned to the others. “You heared Fist’s rules! We go. The Thunder People and the Big and Little People. We go together! We fight the evil. We save our territory!” The ogres cheered, though Burl and his friends did so half-heartedly.

“Puj, come here,” Crag said, pointing. The ogress walked to him hesitantly. He grabbed her wrist, his eyes never leaving Fist’s. “This is my gift to your tribe.”

Crag dragged her forward and shoved her at Fist. The ogress stumbled in surprise and grabbed onto Fist to steady herself.

“What are you doing?” Fist asked in alarm.

“This woman is part of your tribe now,” Crag said.

Puj looked from Crag to Fist and smiled. She giggled and a chunk of dead leaf poultice fell out of her nose. “I am in big Fist’s new tribe?”

Fist stammered. “I-uh. I did not ask for your woman, Crag.”

“It is good,” Crag assured him. “This is why I bringed Puj with us. For you.”

“For me? Why?” Fist asked, not understanding.

“You has been gone from us for a long time. It is much too long for a warrior to be away from the womens.” The rest of the ogre men nodded somberly. A few of them were giving Puj sad looks. With the ogress part of his tribe, they would all be without her company for the return trip.

“I-. But, I . . .” Fist swallowed. It had indeed been a long time, but he tried not to think about it. After bonding with Justan, he had decided that he would have to live without that kind of company.

Good for Fist
! Squirrel said approvingly.

Shut up, Squirrel
, he replied. This was not good. This was one of the things he had never liked about his people. Just passing the women around like property? How could he get out of it?

But you have dreams about this
, Squirrel said and sent him a few choice images from the particular dream he was referring to. Fist’s cheeks went red. There were some things he wished Squirrel could not monitor through the bond.

“Poor lonely Fist,” Puj said as if in agreement with Squirrel. The ogress laid her head on his shoulder and ran her hand across his chest. “Your metal chest is cold.” Then she put her hand between his legs.

Fist yelped and leapt back, holding her out at arm’s length. Puj looked at him in surprise and the other ogres laughed at his response.

“What is wrong?” said Bash in amusement. “You forget what to do?”

“It really has been long for you, Fist!” said another.

Crag laughed. “Fist always was shy around the womens. We should go and leave them alone.”

“How far should we go?” Rub asked. The ugly ogre was still dazed from his fight. His eyes were unfocused.

“Wait!” Fist said, trying madly to think of a way out of this. He was embarrassed knowing that the archers above and the soldiers in the trees were seeing this whole exchange. He would undoubtedly hear about this later. “I cannot accept this gift,”

Crag frowned. “But you must. You are a ogre. You need a woman.”

Yes
, said Squirrel, tugging on his ear.

Stop it
, Fist replied.

“You do not like me?” Puj said, looking both hurt and offended. She really was pretty for an ogre and despite her bulky furs, Fist could tell that she had an impressive figure. She probably was not used to rejection from the males.

“This is . . . not about that,” Fist said. “I-uh. My tribe is not like ogre tribes. I can not accept a new member unless I talk to the others first.”

“What kind of tribe is this?” Crag said, insulted by the idea. “You is chief. You tell them what to do.”

“But I’m n-.” Fist shut his mouth before finishing his protest. He couldn’t see how correcting Crag’s assumption would help anything.

Uh oh
, said Squirrel pushing an image of Justan into Fist’s mind.

I never said I was chief
, Fist sent. He straightened his posture and gave his father a firm look as he lied, “It is the rules of the Big and Little People. I will speak with my tribe about it first. Puj must stay with you here for now.”

“You is leaving?” Puj asked in surprise.

“I’ll be back,” he told her.

Crag hadn’t stopped frowning. “But we is going to fight the evil.”

“We leave in the morning,” Fist proclaimed. “I will gather food and provisions and return with the giant and the human wizard.”