The Ogre Apprentice

by Trevor H. Cooley

  “That thing is my great grandfather,” Justan admonished him. He repressed a gasp as he put one foot into a distressingly cold boot. “Whatever happens was worth it. I got through to him, Deathclaw. I carried on an actual conversation with Artemis.”

  “I know this,” Deathclaw said. “Gwyrtha and I listened to it. Still, there must have been a better way to go about it.”

  Justan frowned at him. “Why do you have to do that? Every time something happens, no matter what I do, you stand around and start pointing out flaws.”

  Deathclaw cocked his head. “Is this a problem? I report what I see. Do you not wish to know your mistakes? You are our leader. Our lives depend on you correcting those flaws.”

  “Well . . .” Justan shoved his other foot into its equally frigid boot. He grimaced. “Of course I want to know if I need to improve, especially if I am endangering your safety. And I value your opinion on other matters, but do you have to be so accusatory in the way that you tell me?”

  Deathclaw blinked. “I do not know what you mean.”

  “Remember that discussion we had about tact awhile ago?” Justan asked. Deathclaw inclined his head in response. “Well this is what I was talking about. I was already in a bad mood before you started berating me. You need to learn politeness.”

  Yes. Be nice, Gwyrtha agreed.

  “Would you prefer I say it like this?” Deathclaw said and tried his impression of a syrupy sweet voice. “Excuse me, Justan, but your foolishness nearly killed us.”

  No, Gwyrtha said, her thoughts tinged with distaste.

  “You know what? Forget I said anything,” Justan said, echoing the rogue horse’s feelings. Deathclaw’s voice had sounded like a deflating gurgle. “I’d rather have you gripe at me all day than ever hear you use that voice again.”

  “Humans,” Deathclaw said with a snort.

  Jhonate is coming, Gwyrtha said.

  Justan looked through the tents and saw Jhonate weaving towards him. She walked with firm purposeful strides. Two of her older brothers, Qurl and Jhexin, trailed behind her. From the expressions on their faces it didn’t look like they were coming of their own free will.

  By all rights, Qurl should have been the one taking the lead, since he was the oldest of the three siblings, but the relationship between those three had changed on the trip from the academy to Malaroo. Jhonate’s forceful presence had worn down her two brothers until they found themselves following her lead without knowing it. That wasn’t the only thing that had changed. They had warmed up to Justan as well. Just before he had faced their father, the two of them had even given him permission to address them by name, a big honor among their people.

  Jhonate walked straight past Justan to his tent and pulled open the flap. A curl of frosty mist escaped the interior, though the cold didn’t seem as intense as it had when Justan first awoke. A few more chunks of frost had fallen down from the ceiling of the tent since Justan had last looked. Jhonate’s brothers stood next to her gazing inside the tent in bewilderment. Justan glanced around, hoping that their obvious interest wasn’t drawing anyone else’s attention.

  “Was it not cold enough for you here, Sir Edge?” asked Qurl, holding back an incredulous laugh as he stepped back from the tent. “Did you really have to bring your horrible Battle Academy winter down here with you?”

  “Very funny,” Justan replied. “I wasn’t aware it was happening. It was the Scralag.” He looked to Jhonate. “What should we do about it?”

  She frowned and shook her head. “My brothers and I will handle this.”

  “And how do you plan on hiding this?” Deathclaw asked.

  “You let us worry about that part,” Jhonate replied.

  “You are serious?” Jhexin said, scratching his head and looking very put out.

  “We will take care of it,” she said, fixing him with a glare. “Edge, I have something else for you to do and it’s best you start right now before the march begins.”

  “Okay,” Justan responded. He was a bit irritated that Jhonate had brushed by him without so much as a ‘good morning’, but he was relieved to have the problem taken out of his hands. “What is it?”

  Jhonate scanned the camp with her eyes. “He should be coming this way . . . there he is.” She waved to a Roo-Tan warrior that was picking his way towards them through the other tents.

  The newcomer was nearly as tall as Justan and carried a short Jharro staff. He had the deeply tanned skin tone of the rest of the Roo, but in some ways he was strikingly different. His eyes were a startling yellow and his hair wasn’t dark brown or black like the other Roo. It was more of a deep auburn. The only other of Jhonate’s people that he had met with that hair color was Alexis bin Hoon, Xedrion’s traitorous fourth wife.

  As the man approached, Deathclaw bristled with uncertainty. He didn’t like the arrival of someone unfamiliar. The raptoid slid forward and stepped in front of the man before he came too close to Justan. Deathclaw leaned in and sniffed at the newcomer, causing him to flinch and step away.

  This one is a man, Gwyrtha assured him, and Deathclaw eased up, moving to stand behind Justan. Still, he didn’t take his eyes off of the man.

  “This is Beltry, second son of Chersel bin Hoon, third son of Eldrol bin Hoon,” Jhonate said in introduction. “Beltry, this is my betrothed, Sir Edge.”

  The man nodded at Justan with an uneasy smile. He was still unnerved by Deathclaw’s inspection and understandably so.

  Justan thought through the encyclopedia of Roo-Tan knowledge that Jhonate had forced into his mind during their journey. The Hoon family was one of the middle houses of the Roo-Tan. Eldrol bin Hoon was the leader of that house. If this Beltry was the second son of Eldrol’s third son, he was basically a nobody in the Roo-Tan ranking.

  Jhonate continued on, “I would like for you to spend the day traveling with him.”

  “I was hoping to spend some time with you during the march,” Justan complained. What was the importance of sticking him with this man? “I barely saw you at all yesterday.”

  In fact, he hadn’t seen her much at all since meeting her father. Xedrion was keeping her close and she had been keeping her distance. From the feelings he had received through the ring, Justan had gotten the impression that she was being particularly vigilant, making sure that nothing about her relationship with Justan could be seen as inappropriate to her father.

  “We will have plenty of time to spend together once this is all over,” she said, feeling a bit embarrassed to have this conversation in front of the man. “Until then, you will have to be patient. As will I.”

  Justan didn’t like that answer, but he could feel her determination and he knew that he didn’t have much choice in the matter. She gave him a firm stare that reminded him of the year he had spent with her at the Training School. That was back when she had only allowed him to call her Ma’am.

  He didn’t like it and let her know as much through the ring as he said, And why do you wish me to spend the day with the son of Chersel bin Hoon?

  “Beltry is a friend of mine,” she said, her green eyes focused on Justan as she clasped the man’s shoulder. “He is also a Jharro bow wielder and an excellent archer.”

  That peaked Justan’s interest. He shook the man’s hand, noting that even though Beltry was carrying a short Jharro staff, he wore two quivers of arrows, one slung over his shoulder and one hanging from the belt at his waist.

  “Nice to meet you,” Justan said. “I didn’t know that Jhonate had friends.”

  Beltry laughed. It was a pleasant sound and, from the ease in which it came, Justan could tell that he laughed often. “You have a good point, Jhonate’s betrothed. I think it’s because we trained together a lot when we were younger and I let her boss me around.”

  “That helps,” Justan agreed, smiling.

  Jhonate frowned at the both of them and Beltry cleared his throat. “Well, if we’re going to get any shots in before the march, we should get moving. I’d like to see how
much I need to teach you.”

  “Teach me?” Justan cocked his head at Jhonate. “I didn’t know I needed an archery tutor.”

  “He is not teaching you how to hit your target,” Jhonate said. “He is teaching you how to use your Jharro weapon.”

  “Jharro bows are different than staves or swords,” Qurl explained. “We would have worked with you on the journey here, but none of us use one.”

  “Do you mean like, transforming the wood and things like that?” Justan asked. He had seen Yntri Yni do amazing things with his bow, breaking it into pieces and reforming it as if it were clay. Justan wasn’t sure how useful that would be for him, but the best he had managed to do so far was to make the front of his bow narrow to a sharpened edge.

  “As I told you before, Beltry,” Jhonate said, glancing at her friend. “His understanding of his bow is rudimentary at best.”

  “Hey,” Justan protested. No one had complained about his skill level before. Why was he just hearing about this now?

  “He only recently communed with his tree,” Jhexin added.

  Jhonate agreed. “I want you to make him at least proficient enough that he does not embarrass himself.”

  Beltry nodded, though his smile slid a little at the look of consternation on Justan’s face. “Well, he is named by the Bowl of Souls. I’m sure he’s a fast learner.”

  “A fast learner . . ?” Justan was growing more and more frustrated. Why was he feeling so embarrassed? Shouldn’t he be above that by now? After all, he had been named twice, he had four powerful bonded, and had fought in a war, destroying scores of deadly monsters. Now they were saying he didn’t know how to use his own bow?

  Jhonate couldn’t ignore the intense feelings that were coming through their connection. Why are you upset? Do you feel that you are above training your abilities?

  Of course it’s not that, Justan said. Warriors always tried to improve. Even his father was constantly training. It’s the way you are going about it. I am tired of you yanking me around.

  I apologize for my abruptness, she sent, confused. Perhaps I should have informed you of your deficiency earlier?

  Justan clenched his teeth. Was she just as clueless as Deathclaw? Long ago, you told me that I deserved your respect. But lately you treat me like I am still that awkward teenager who couldn’t run without tripping over his own two feet. You might as well go back to calling me ‘boy’.

  Jhonate blinked, her brow furrowed.

  “Uh . . .” said Beltry and the rest of the group exchanged looks. Justan and Jhonate had been staring at each other silently for several seconds. The others didn’t know what was going on, but by the way the two betrothed’s facial expressions kept changing, it was obvious that there was some kind of communication going on between them.

  Please, Justan, do not doubt my respect, Jhonate pleaded. I . . . I am not good at expressing the way I feel. I just do things in the way I know how.

  She reached up and grasped Justan’s head with both of her hands, then pulled him in and kissed him fiercely, ignoring the panic that rose within her when expressing her emotions like this publicly. Justan felt the intensity of her passion surge through the ring as her tongue grazed his.

  Finally, Jhonate let go of his head and ended the kiss. She pulled back a few inches from his face and looked firmly into his eyes as she said, “Remember, I love you.”

  I love you both! said Gwyrtha enthusiastically. The others scratched their heads at Jhonate’s sudden affection.

  Justan swallowed, finding that his mind had been emptied of the frustration that had been building inside him. Jhonate hadn’t kissed him like that since they had left the academy. He smiled. “That does make me feel better. You just need to remind me from time to time.”

  “Humans,” Deathclaw commented again with a roll of his eyes.

  The intensity of Jhonate’s passion abated quickly as she looked around to see if anyone in the rest of the camp had noticed their kiss. It was likely that someone had, but if that was the case, they were smart enough to look away before she noticed them.

  Feeling a bit relieved, she said. “Please, Edge, be patient with me,”

  Justan nodded. Sometimes he forgot that this was her first time loving someone. She might have been two years older than him, but she was just as inexperienced with relationships as him. The kind of emotional reassurances he needed from her did not come to Jhonate easily. She was far more used to pushing people away than letting them in and the predicament with her father made things even more difficult,

  I love you, too, Justan sent. He turned his attention back to Beltry Hoon. “Shall we get going, then?”

  “Yes,” Beltry said and from the expression on his face, he seemed eager to leave this awkward situation behind him.

  We are coming, too, Gwyrtha said.

  Justan knew there would be no talking them out of it. “I hope you don’t mind that my bonded will be coming with us. They are quite protective with the nightbeast after me.”

  “Of course. I understand,” the archer said, giving Deathclaw and Gwyrtha an uneasy smile.

  Deathclaw must have really unnerved him. Or perhaps it was the mention of the nightbeast that caused his unease. Justan wasn’t quite sure which.

  Beltry pointed. “This way. I already have a target picked out.”

  The archer led him eastward through the camp and Justan’s bonded flanked them, occasionally startling the Roo-Tan men that were putting away their tents for the day’s journey. Gwyrtha emulated Deathclaw’s style, peering around at everyone as if they were a threat. She enjoyed playing the protector.

  “Sorry about the awkwardness back there, son of Chersel” Justan said as they walked. “Jhonate has a habit of springing surprises on me.”

  “That’s just the way she is,” Beltry said with a shrug and Justan was struck by the easy way that the man talked. He sounded so laid back. It was such a contrast to the proper speech of Jhonate and her brothers. “She was like that as a kid, even. Jhonate gets an idea in her head and just goes for it, expecting everyone else to follow. And it works for her. She usually gets her way.”

  “She does at that,” Justan replied. “So, uh, son of Chersel, how far away is this target?”

  “You can call me Beltry,” the archer said off-hand as they passed the last row of tents. He pointed into the trees. “The targets are just a short way from here. I found the spot while I was out, uh, . . . starting a swamp last night.”

  Justan’s eyebrows rose. “You are letting me use your name that easy?”

  Beltry snorted. “Most of our people aren’t as concerned with the old proper traditions as the Leeths family. Besides, you are Jhonate’s betrothed. If she wishes to marry you how could you not deserve my respect?”

  “Well, thank you,” Justan replied. “I wasn’t expecting such an easy time with the nephew of Alexis bin Hoon.”

  The man winced. “Please don’t give me that title. Aunt Alexis isn’t exactly my favorite person. Nor is she my father’s favorite sister. When she was married off to Xedrion, most of the family was relieved to see her go. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t too surprised when I heard that Xedrion had her put under arrest.”

  “Yeah, she didn’t seem like a very fun person to be around,” Justan commented. He had only met the woman once and that had been enough.

  “Besides,” said Beltry, with a shrug. “I feel like I owe you. After all, I almost killed your rogue horse.”

  “You what?” Justan said in surprise.

  “You didn’t recognize me? I was one of the archers who fired at your rogue horse during the battle the other day,” he admitted. “I thought it was going after you and Jhonate. My first arrow struck it in the belly and as for my second . . . I have to say I was quite impressed with the way you caught it out of the air.”

  Justan hadn’t known who had fired that last shot. He had been too preoccupied with protecting the rogue horse from it. “Your arrow came inches from piercing her eye. That
was an amazing shot.”

  “Yes, well-.” Beltry froze as Gwyrtha appeared in front of him. She brought her muzzle inches from his face and pulled back her lips, exposing her wicked front teeth. A low growl rumbled in her throat.

  Tell him to say sorry, she said.

  “You may want to apologize to her,” Justan told him. He sent soothing emotions to the rogue horse through the bond. “Her name is Gwyrtha. She won’t mind you using it as long as you’re nice.”

  “Right, uh, I am sorry, Gwyrtha,” Beltry said, offering a hesitant smile. “If I had known who you were, I wouldn’t have fired.”

  Hmph. She snorted and turned away, smacking the side of his legs with her tail as she went, causing him to stumble. He caught his balance and watched her warily as she sauntered into the trees.

  You had better forgive him. It was an accident. Justan told her. He received another hmph in reply.

  “Don’t worry, she has forgiven you,” Justan assured the man though, in truth, he wasn’t completely sure. She was known to hold grudges.

  “I’m relieved to hear that,” Beltry said and Justan saw sweat beading on his forehead. “Uh, it’s right here.” He stopped in front of a fallen log and pointed through the trees. “Do you see those masks?”

  Spring had come to this part of Malaroo and the morning chill was already fading. The trees in this area were mostly evergreens, but they weren’t fir trees like Justan was used to. They had thick waxy leaves that resisted the mild winters. The few trees that had lost their leaves over the winter were now covered in green shoots, giving the area a vibrant lush feel.

  Justan saw the masks immediately, attached to tree trunks in varying distances from where he stood. They were hard to miss, wooden masks carved in the shape of grimacing faces. The masks were garishly painted in red and white runes. “Yeah. I see them.”

  “We found them back at the ‘Dan campsite after the battle,” Beltry said, referring to the Roo-Dan. Justan had heard several of the Roo-Tan warriors refer to their savage cousins simply as the ‘Dan’. “I like to use them for target practice because they are easy to see in the distance. Plus, the runes they paint on them make them more durable too. They can usually take a few arrows without shattering.”