The Jharro Grove Saga: Part Three
The Ogre Apprentice
A Bowl of Souls Novel
By Trevor H. Cooley
Trevor H. Cooley
Copyright 2015 by Trevor H. Cooley
Cover art © Renu Sharma | www.thedarkrayne.com
Map by: Michael Patty on www.trevorhcooley.com
The Bowl of Souls Series:
The Moonrat Saga
Book One: EYE of the MOONRAT
Book 1.5: HILT’S PRIDE
Book Two: MESSENGER of the DARK PROPHET
Book Three: HUNT of the BANDHAM
Book Four: THE WAR of STARDEON
Book Five: MOTHER of the MOONRAT
The Jharro Grove Saga
Book One: TARAH WOODBLADE
Book Two: PROTECTOR of the GROVE
Book Three: THE OGRE APPRENTICE
Book Four: Upcoming 2015
Dedication
To my Grandma Seay. You were the one who taught me to sing. One of the greatest thrills of my writing career was to hear that you had been reading my books. I miss you.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Prologue
The demon army spread out over the wide valley that emptied into the desert plains of Alberri. It was a thousand strong and split into two distinct sections. To the east were camped the imps, enemies of the gnomes, their odd spiky tents set in neat rows. To the west were the kobalds, enemies of the dwarves. Instead of tents, the squat lizard-like creatures raised up mounds of earth to sleep in, each kobald with their own personal cave.
Tarah had stood and watched for nearly an hour as the camps were set up just south of Scholar Aloysius’ tents. A stiff cold wind whipped her hair about and chilled her face, causing her nose to drip as she watched the army with trepidation. She had left the rest of her party at their camp atop the mesa to tend their wounds and had come back down intending to watch the gnome scholar and his dwarf cronies get slaughtered. For some reason she didn’t understand, the demons hadn’t attacked.
Blayne and the rest of the dwarf smugglers had gathered their things and slinked away on foot, all of their horses having been killed during Cletus’ rampage the night before. The kobalds watched them go, not trying to give chase. While Tarah had looked on in amazement, Aloysius had stood there calmly talking with some woman while his stewards received members of the army. The white-robed humans had even served the demons tea while they waited for him.
To make matters worse, Tarah saw that the steward taking charge of the situation was none other than Shade. Tarah had known that her blow hadn’t killed the man. She had held back just enough so that it wasn’t fatal. But he should have been gravely wounded. It seemed unfair that, after all he had done, Shade walked around as if nothing had happened, sparkly clean. Not even bloodied. Tarah had arrived at her perch on the slope just in time to see the odd woman revive him.
Tarah shifted her gaze back to the woman. The woman was acting strangely as she spoke to Scholar Aloysius. She wagged her hips in a parody of suggestiveness and often reached out to touch the gnome. With the awkward way the woman swayed as she moved, Tarah wondered if her legs were crippled in some way.
Who was she? Tarah hadn’t noticed her in the camp the night before. The woman had curly black hair with a single blond lock. She wore a robe in the style of Aloysius’ other stewards, but her robe was a brilliant green and the sash that hung across her ample chest was golden. Had the woman come with the army somehow? That would be strange because, though it was hard to be certain from this distance, she looked to be human.
Tarah’s papa chose that moment to speak up in her mind, The closer a scout can get to the enemy unseen, the better his advantage.
He was right. There was only so much she could learn looking down on the scene from the slope. If she really wanted to learn what was going on, she needed to get in there. And she could do it. Tarah could walk right up to Scholar Aloysius and he would never see her coming. At least she was pretty sure she could.
Tarah’s hands tightened on her staff and her eyes moved down to look at the weapon. Her staff was different from the way it used to be. It had the same weight to it and it was the same length. All of the runes were even in the same places, but the wood wasn’t blood red anymore. It had turned a plain gray. It also pulsed in her fingers as if it were alive which, she supposed in a way, it was now that it housed the soul of a rogue horse.
The weapon that had been carved so many hundreds of years ago by imp craftsmen had finally fulfilled its purpose. Scholar Aloysius had killed Esmine, but Tarah had thwarted him, pulling the rogue horse’s soul from his grasp. Esmine was bound to her staff now.
The rogue horse had brought her own powers into the weapon with her. Tarah didn’t understand how they worked, but Esmine had been able to turn Tarah and the rest of her friends invisible so that they could escape from the gnome’s camp. The staff was still hiding them. Tarah was standing out in the open and, though to her own eyes she was completely visible, the demon army’s scouts hadn’t spotted her. And though her friends were huddled just out of sight on the mesa above, she could feel that Esmine’s magic was concealing them too.
So why was she so hesitant to walk into the camp? Her papa’s memories continued to prod her forward, but she wasn’t moving. Was it fear? Wasn’t she past that?
A good tracker knows fear real well, reminded her papa’s voice. And that’s good. Because fear’s your enemy. You’ve got to tackle that fear, Tarah. You’ve got to beat it into submission.
Hold on, now, Grampa Rolf’s memories argued. Tarah Woodblade ain’t afraid of nothing, but she ain’t reckless neither. You have a tendency to do too much. That was your papa’s problem too, always getting in too close and making trouble. You know your nose wouldn’t be crooked if not for him. Use your brains, girl!
Tarah frowned. Rolf had a point. Heading into the enemy camp was risky. There was too much she didn’t understand about the extent of the staff’s powers. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more questions came into her mind.
From the way Aloysius had coveted the soul of the rogue horse she knew the staff was powerful, but did the powers have a time limit? Esmine had been keeping her hidden for a long while now, after all. And what about smell? Imps had sensitive noses and Tarah had been on the road for weeks without a chance to bathe. Could Esmine protect her from that? Her frown deepened as a more important thought crossed her mind. What about the staff’s range?
She reached out to the staff with her thoughts and asked, Esmine, if I walked down into the enemy camp, could you still hide my friends?
Friends? Esmine asked, sounding confused.
Now that Tarah thought about it, the rogue horse had been alone all her life. Perhaps she wasn’t aware of the concept of friends. Unfortunately, Tarah didn’t have the time to teach her what that meant. The others I asked you to hide, Tarah explained. The people tha
t were with me when I tried to save you.
Oh . . . Maybe, Esmine replied. The rogue horse’s spirit sounded warm and feminine in Tarah’s mind, eager to please, though she wasn’t helpful. Don’t know.
“Hello, Pretty Tarah,” said a loud voice from behind her suddenly.
Startled, Tarah jumped and whirled to face the speaker, leading with her staff. She recognized who it was just in time to hold back from striking him. The tip of the staff halted inches from his head.
“Shh!” she said, placing a finger to her lips.
“You look fuzzy,” Cletus said, cocking his head in confusion as he peered up at her. The gnome’s tall and lanky frame was crouched to make him as small as possible among the scrub brush. He would have been invisible to the enemy anyway but he didn’t seem to understand that. “Also your nose is funny.”
“Quiet!” she whispered, ignoring his commentary on her nose for the moment. “There is a whole blasted army below. Do you want them to hear you?”
She knew that the gnome could be as stealthy as he wanted to be. After all, he had snuck up behind her without her knowing. At the same time, he was notorious for making unnecessarily loud movements when he became distracted. His antics had gotten them discovered once before.
“They can’t hear me,” the gnome said. “The wind is too loud.”
Tarah pursed her lips. What he said was true. The wind whipping across the slope would suck the sound away. They could practically yell without fear of discovery. “Still, I told you to wait back with the others.”
“I was bored. And the others are mad. They’re arguing,” Cletus complained with a frown. “And I don’t like it.”
“Is Helmet Jan awake, then?” she asked hopefully. Helmet Jan was the rowdiest member of the party and the most quick to anger, but she had been shot with a paralyzing crossbow bolt the night before and still hadn’t woken by the time Tarah had left.
“No. She is real bad sick and Pretty Djeri worries,” the gnome warrior replied, his face growing tight with concern. Despite the fact that he was the deadliest fighter Tarah had ever seen, the gnome sure was a sensitive sort.
“What is everyone arguing about?” Tarah asked, though she was pretty sure she knew the answer. They didn’t have as good of a vantage point as she did, but Swen and Benjo had keen eyes. Surely they had seen that the demon army hadn’t killed the gnome and his retinue. If she had to be truthful to herself, she would have admitted that one of the reasons she had stayed down here so long was to avoid the discussion that would come.
Cletus winced at her as if she were emitting a glare. He reached out and poked her. “Do you have to be so fuzzy? It’s hard to talk to you when you’re fuzzy.”
She smacked his hand away, in no mood for his eccentricity. “What are they arguing about?”
“They want to go somewhere, but they can’t decide where,” he replied. “And you been gone a long time. And also they can’t see you. Only Pretty Djeri and me can and I can only see you all fuzzy.”
“They can’t see me . . ?” Tarah blinked. “What do you mean, I’m ‘fuzzy’, Cletus?”
“Like you’re almost see-through,” Cletus said, squinting again. He rubbed at his eyes. “It hurts to look at you.”
Tarah figured it must have been Esmine’s work, but how? It seemed terribly complicated to be able to keep all of them invisible to the enemy and yet keep Tarah hidden from the rest of them at the same time. Also why could Djeri and Cletus see her when the others couldn’t?
She shook her head. Evidently there was a lot she needed to learn about the powers of her staff. Esmine, are you doing this?
I hide you, the rogue horse’s spirit replied.
That’s good, but you don’t need to hide me from my friends, Tarah said. Just everyone else.
Esmine thought for a moment, then finally replied, Okay.
Tarah hoped the rogue horse understood. She eyed the gnome. “Can you see me better now, Cletus?”
Cletus smiled and nodded. “Your nose is still funny, though. What happened to your nose?”
Her hands clenched into fists, but she forced out one of her standard responses to that question. “I bent it myself so that I wouldn’t look too pretty.”
“I don’t like it,” the gnome grumbled.
“Look, just shut up about my nose,” she warned.
His smile slid. “Sorry.”
Tarah sighed. The gnome was so straight forward and open that it was hard to stay mad at him. It was like holding a grudge against a two-year-old. “I guess we should go back up to the camp then.”
“Okay!” Cletus said, smiling again. “Come on!” The gnome started picking his way up the slope towards the camp. The lanky warrior moved quickly from bush to bush along the way, his darting form a blur.
Tarah began to follow after him, but glanced back towards the encampment just in time to note that Aloysius was no longer speaking to that strange woman. The gnome scholar had rejoined Shade and was speaking with the representatives from the demon army. She watched as the scholar shook the hand of an imp wearing garishly decorated spiky armor. They looked awfully friendly.
Tarah chewed her lip as she scanned the camp to see where Aloysius’ woman had gone. Tarah finally caught a glimpse of green robes flapping in the breeze at the edge of the tents. She watched as the woman headed purposefully to the southeast, her awkward strides carrying her away from the demon army. Where was she going?
“Come on, Pretty Tarah!” Cletus called from up ahead.
Tarah shushed him again and looked to make sure that no one among the army below had reacted to his yell. Luckily there was no visible response. Grumbling, she continued up the slope after the gnome warrior.
Tarah wasn’t sure what it was, but something about that strange woman nagged at her. She had a sudden urge to track the woman down and question her. Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time. She took note of the strange woman’s departing direction and looked to the top of the mesa. First, she needed to deal with her friends.
Tarah felt a twinge of apprehension as she neared the top. This was the first time in her life that she’d had a group of people around her that she had considered friends. Now she feared that she was about to lose them. After all, what reason did they have to stay together now that Esmine was dead? She crested the slope to find Djeri and Swen waiting for her.
Djeri’s cloak and surcoat had been destroyed in the battle the night before. No longer hidden, the dwarf’s polished armor gleamed brightly in the sunlight. He stood there gleaming like a shining beacon. He stood just far enough back from the mesa’s edge that his mirror-like armor wouldn’t alert the army below. Though Esmine’s magic should have been keeping him hidden, it was a wise precaution. Tarah had no idea if the rogue horse was able to hide the reflections from his armor.
As she approached, Djeri removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He was handsome and quite un-dwarf-like with his closely trimmed beard and his green eyes. He gave her a slight smile, but his gaze was reproachful as he said, “It took you long enough, Tarah.”
“I was getting a closer look,” she replied.
“Is that all?” His eyes bored into hers and Tarah got the distinct impression that he knew exactly what she was thinking. They called him Djeri the Looker for a reason. He had a knack for observing things about people. “Well everyone here has been . . . restless while you were gone.”
“Cletus told me that you were arguing because you couldn’t see me,” she said. “But I talked to Esmine about it. That shouldn’t happen again.”
“Your invisibility isn’t what we were worried about,” Swen replied in his standard monotone. Tarah tried to determine his meaning, but the tall archer stood with arms folded, his stiff face expressionless. His right arm was bandaged where Shade’s knife had pierced him the night before. For Tarah, it was another reminder of her failure the night before. His eyebrows raised slightly as he focused in on her face. “What happened to your nose?”
�
��What are you talking about?” Tarah reached up to her face. Had she been wounded in the night and not noticed it or something? But her fingers touched unbroken skin. It was the same bent nose as always.
“I don’t see anything wrong,” Djeri said. He reached out and grasped her hand, his gauntlet icy cold to the touch. “Come on. Everyone wants to talk to you.”
The rest of the party was gathered together behind a rock outcropping that partially blocked the wind. They had wrapped Helmet Jan in blankets and pressed her unconscious form closest to the rock, doing their best to keep her warm. They couldn’t start a fire because any smoke could alert the army to their presence. Instead, Willum’s axe was lying on the ground next to her emitting a steady pulse of heat. Evidently Theodore still had plenty of energy remaining from the blood magic he had absorbed during the fight.
Cletus was talking to everyone animatedly, but they all had their bleary eyes fixed on Tarah. She suppressed a wince. Jan was the only major injury, but several of the others huddled around the heat of the axe had wounds of their own. Dinnis had received several shallow cuts during the battle and Benjo had a deep gash over his eye that had been hastily bandaged.
“There you are, Tarah,” Willum said, standing and facing her. Then his eyes fixed on her face and a look of confusion passed over him.
“Sorry. I was watching the army,” she replied. Tarah Woodblade never apologizes, Grampa Rolf said, but she shoved his memory to the side. Why was Willum looking at her like that?
“And you found time to fix your nose while you were at it?” Dinnis said incredulously. Djeri frowned at him and the man added, “What? Did it happen earlier and I just didn’t see it?”
“Why does everyone keep making remarks about my nose?” Tarah growled.
“It looks different,” Benjo said. “It changes your face a lot, actually.”
“It looks funny,” Cletus agreed.
“No it doesn’t,” Djeri said. He stared at her face in confusion. “She looks the same as always.”
The Ogre Apprentice Page 1