The Ogre Apprentice (34 page)

“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 when 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 . . .”

“Then why did you kill Puj?” Fist asked.

“No! Not me! It was Beard,” Glug swore, his face white with fear and loss of blood. “I killed you, but he killed her! I telled him not to!”

“Then why did he do it?” Fist demanded. He swung back his mace. “Why!”

The ogre cowered, raising his arms over his head. “Sh-she fighted us! Puj scratched Beard. Hitted Beard.” He raised his arm to show Fist a wicked set of teeth marks. “She bited me!”

“So you choked her!” Fist shouted.

“No! It was Beard!”

Fist’s hand tightened on the handle of his mace. Glug was probably telling the truth, but Fist couldn’t forget the way Puj had tried to rub away the bruises on her arms. Bruises that Glug had given her.

Maryanne walked past Fist and crouched next to the Glug’s injured leg. She examined the metal mechanism. “It’s a trap for bears. Probably left by a human.”

“Yes.” He had seen such traps before. Fist cocked his head at her. Why was she bringing that up?

 “This is a good spot for a trap like this,” the gnome said, looking around. “Smart placement. Along the animal trail and by the stream.”

“It will not come off!” whimpered Glug.

“Squirrel tricked him,” Fist said. He was sure of it. That was why Squirrel had been hopping around on the rocks and letting them see him. “He must have seen the trap and led Glug onto it.”

“It was effective,” she said appreciatively. “This thing’s got him cut down to the bone. Sheared right through his tendons.”

“It hurts!” the ogre agreed.

Maryanne pulled one of her knives. She looked up at Fist. “You want me to take care of this?”

Fist understood now. She was offering him a way to back out. “No. I will do it.”

“Y-you will fix my leg, ghost of Fist? With your magics?” Glug said hopefully. Then he saw Fist swing his mace back and his eyes widened. “No! I will go back to Crag. I will be a good Thunder People now!”

“No you won’t.” Fist swung his mace with all the strength and speed he could muster. The ridged side of the mace struck Glug between the eyes, crushing the ogre’s head against the rock behind him.

Fist wiped the head of his mace off on the ogre’s furs before putting the weapon away. It had not been an honorable way to kill Glug, but it had been necessary. The bite mark on the ogre’s forearm had proved it. If he would fight Puj, he would fight other women.

“It had to be done,” Maryanne agreed, standing up and putting her knife away.

“I know,” Fist replied. “One more.”

He turned and followed the stream into the cliff face. The passage was narrow, but passable. Later in the spring, when the snow in the peaks had melted, the stream would be a torrent, gushing from the fissure. For now the water was little more than a trickle and was covered with a thin sheet of ice. Fist could see where Beard had broken the ice on his way through.

Fist reached through the bond and saw Beard hadn’t stopped after leaving his friend behind. He was still traveling to the north.
Squirrel, Glug is dead
.