The Ogre Apprentice

by Trevor H. Cooley

  The baby was the reason for the raptoid’s discomfort. For some reason, Sherl-Ann adored Deathclaw. She smiled and reached out for him whenever he was near. Holding the child made Deathclaw uncomfortable. She was so delicate and helpless and he worried that his claws might scratch her. Beth wasn’t concerned. She forced the child onto him whenever possible. She said it was good for him to hold an infant.

  Justan turned his attention back to his training. He notched another arrow on his bow and looked up at the tree, trying to find a good target path for his next shot. He let the world slow around him as he lined up a shot and did as Beltry had instructed him, envisioning the shot, letting Ma’am know exactly how he wanted her to fire. If things went perfectly, he would pierce two of the brass rings before striking the target on the far side of the tree.

  “Practice shots again, Sir Edge?” came a female voice from behind him. Justan lowered his bow and turned to see that Beth had entered the arena.

  Beth was a pretty woman in her mid thirties. She wore a loose white blouse with long sleeves and a pair of extremely baggy trousers cuffed tightly at the ankles. Her long blond hair was pulled up above her head in a bun. She carried a bow made of dark wood in one hand and a quiver holding a single arrow was slung over one shoulder.

  “Good morning, Beth,” Justan said. He gestured with his bow. “Yeah, I’m getting better. Another design faded today.”

  “Oh. That’s nice,” she said, not sounding at all impressed. She glanced up at the tree. “A Roo target tree. How many rings can you pierce?”

  Justan blinked at her. She hadn’t shown any interest in his target shooting on her previous visits. “Three. But I’ve only managed one while still hitting a target.”

  “Come, come. The great, Sir Edge? Surely you can manage better than that.” She smirked and drew her single arrow. It had a thick white shaft and a black tip. It was an odd-looking arrow and Justan wondered if it had some sort of spirit bound to it. “It’s been a while since I tried one of these, but let’s see what I can manage.”

  Without taking a step closer, she pulled the arrow back and aimed high into the air, preparing an arcing shot.

  Gwyrtha raised her head with sudden alarm. Not Beth! she sent as she jumped to her feet.

  Justan’s eyes widened and he took a step backward, but the woman didn’t turn the bow on him. She lined up her shot towards the tree and fired. The arrow soared up into the air and fell, piercing three small rings before burying itself into one of the targets beneath it. The woman smiled in triumph.

  Justan drew back an arrow, but hesitated to fire. She seemed so real. What if Gwyrtha was wrong? Are you sure?

  Get back, Gwyrtha said. She was approaching Beth slowly, a low growl rising in her throat as the scales on her body hardened and her teeth lengthened. I will kill it.

  Beth heard the sound and looked back at Gwyrtha. A look of irritation crossed her face. “Sir Edge, your rogue horse is growling at me.”

  Justan fired.

  His arrow burst through the woman’s right eye, rocking her head back. She didn’t fall, but slowly looked back at him, the eyebrow above her undamaged eye raising. No blood poured from her wound. “You like to go for the face, don’t you? Do you really think I’d keep my brain there?”

  Justan drew another arrow. His heart raced. It was the nightbeast. After all this time waiting, here it was, standing before him.

  “How did you know it was me?” Vahn asked, still using Beth’s voice. It was disturbing for Justan to see her standing there talking so calmly with his arrow still in her head.

  “Beth wouldn’t refer to Gwyrtha like that,” Justan said.

  Vahn snorted. “Of course. It would have to be one of those small detai-.” Justan’s second arrow caught it in the throat. Vahn winced. Its throat contorted around the arrow, pushing the shaft to the side, and it spoke again, “I shan’t be so careless next time.”

  Gwyrtha let out a roar and darted towards it, but Vahn stepped aside at the last moment, letting the rogue horse skid by in the soft dirt of the range.

  “We’ll continue this conversation at a later date,” the nightbeast said. It dropped its bow and ran for the gate. It was fast, running much quicker than Justan had expected Beth’s form to manage.

  Gwyrtha chased after it and Justan fired again, his arrow catching the retreating figure between the shoulder blades. If it had been human that shot would have severed its spinal column, but the nightbeast only looked like it had a spinal column. Vahn made it through the gate, Gwyrtha at its heels.

  Justan chased after them, drawing another arrow. He passed through the gate, expecting Vahn to run towards the palace where the largest group of people would be.

  Beyond the gate was a wide walkway bordered by long grasses that led to the palace’s main building. A few of Xedrion’s servants were walking busily by, but Vahn didn’t head towards them. It turned and ran to the right, heading across the grass towards one of the wide canals that ran past the palace.

  Gwyrtha gained on it, but just as she was about to run the nightbeast down, Vahn spun and swung a vicious backhand. The nightbeast’s arm grew in size and hardened as it did so. The changes happened much faster than with any of the basilisks Justan had seen. Vahn’s fist was the size of a small boulder when it connected with the side of Gwyrtha’s head.

  The force of the blow staggered her and Vahn let out a whoop of a laugh before running again. Gwyrtha shook her head, growling again and rushed after it.

  Justan swore. It was going to reach the canal.

  The canal was deep, one of the cities arteries, and its waters were flowing swiftly. It was wide enough for two of the Roo-Tan poleboats to pass side-by-side, but from the agility it had already displayed Justan had no doubt that Vahn would be able to leap across. If the nightbeast did so, Justan wouldn’t be able to follow. He’d have to run further ahead to find a bridge and by that time, it would be out of sight.

  I’ll catch it, Gwyrtha promised and Justan knew that she could probably manage the leap, but that wasn’t what he wanted either. He didn’t like the thought of her chasing Vahn down by herself.

  Justan stopped and forced the world around him to slow as he pulled back another arrow. He focused in on the escaping assassin. It looked back at him and made the mockery of Beth’s face it wore stretch in a wide smile. Justan tried not to let that distract him. Where was the best place to strike? It could be keeping its brain anywhere.

  Vahn reached the bank of the canal and took a short leap into the air. As it did so, it underwent another transformation. Its body, its clothing, even the quiver on its back faded, losing any coloration and turning translucent. Justan understood. Vahn wasn’t trying to clear the canal. It was planning to disappear into the water.

  Just before Vahn hit the water, Justan saw his target, a dark lump within the nightbeast’s clear form. Justan knew there was little chance his arrow would strike true, but he released it anyway. Ma’am reacted to his intentions, stiffening as he let go, pushing the arrow forward at a speed that she hadn’t fired since the loss of his dragon hair string.

  The arrow hit just as Vahn struck the water. Gwyrtha followed, hitting the water so hard that it splashed up over the edge of its banks. Justan couldn’t see whether he had hit the mark. Gwyrtha thrashed, trying to grab hold of Vahn’s translucent body, but her teeth found nothing but water.

  Justan ran up to the edge and watched helplessly as the current swept Gwyrtha down the canal. She passed under a footbridge and disappeared around a bend. Justan swore again and chased after her.

  Gwyrtha! he shouted through the bond.

  I’m swimming, she replied. The water is fast.

  Get to the bank and get out of there! Justan slowed and stopped chasing her. He told himself that she would be fine. Gwyrtha was a strong swimmer.

  He stomped his foot, furious with himself. He had missed. He was sure of it. If the arrow had struck true, Vahn would have turned to stone and Gwyrtha would have found him.
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  He headed back the way he had come, scanning the banks of the canal. The nightbeast very well could be clinging somewhere along the side, disguised as part of an abutment or piece of debris. But there was no debris. Jhonate’s people were efficient at keeping the waterways clear. Justan made it most of the way back to the gates of the archery range without seeing anything suspicious.

  “There you are, Edge,” said Beth’s voice.

  Justan came to a stop. She was standing next to the archery range dressed just as she had been earlier. Her clothes were dry but the paving stones under her feet gave her away.

  He raised his bow, pulling an arrow back. Vahn must have made it to the bank and circled back around. “Your footprints are wet.”

  Beth stopped. “Hey, watch where you’re pointing that.”

  “Your footprints are wet,” Justan repeated.

  She saw the threat in his gaze and raised her hands, palms out. “I stepped in a puddle. What’s going on, Edge?”

  “Where’s Sherl-Ann?” Justan asked accusingly. Deathclaw had said she and Beth were together. He should have noticed that when Beth showed up alone the first time.

  “I left her with Deathclaw,” she said, her expression puzzled as she watched his firing hand.

  “You left her alone with him and came here alone?”

  “Of course. She adores him.” Beth said defensively, placing her hands on her hips. “Put that bow down. What’s this about? Were you attacked or something?”

  Justan reached out to Deathclaw but before he could ask any questions, the raptoid came running up the path from the palace. He had the child cradled in one arm and a throwing knife gripped in the other. Sherl-Ann was giggling as if it were a fun ride. Where is it? Where did Gwyrtha go?

  At the same time as Deathclaw spoke, Justan felt a probing touch at the edges of the bond. Justan lowered his bow. This was Beth attempting to use her bewitching magic to calm him down. Her magic was something that the nightbeast couldn’t duplicate.

  “I’m sorry, Beth,” he said. “Vahn was here. He was disguised as you.”

  “Me?” she said, her eyes widening.

  “He had you down perfect,” Justan said, turning to look back down the canal. “The voice, the clothes. Even your smell. It took Gwyrtha a while to figure out that he wasn’t you.”

  “He smelled like me?” She said, frowning.

  “Where is it now?” Deathclaw insisted. Sherl-Ann giggled at the sound of his voice and slapped the side of his face.

  “He jumped into the canal and Gwyrtha went in after him,” Justan explained, sending memories of the situation to him through the bond.

  “Is Gwyrtha okay?” Beth asked.

  “Yeah. Here she comes now,” Justan said just as the rogue horse rounded the corner of the archery range. She came towards them, still dripping wet.

  That’s Beth, she sent.

  “I know that now,” Justan replied. He shook his head. “What I don’t understand is why Vahn attacked like that.”

  “What are you talking about?” Deathclaw asked, his face twisted with irritation as he raised a hand to block the infant’s repeated slaps. Sherl-Ann grabbed onto his fingers and began gnawing on one knuckle. She was a beautiful child, with large expressive eyes and a head sparsely covered with reddish curls.

  “The whole encounter doesn’t make sense,” Justan said. “Vahn showed up and managed to catch me off guard. Why didn’t he just shoot me? He could have killed me before I had time to react.”

  “Perhaps he is like Talon. She liked to play with her prey,” Deathclaw suggested. He was trying to gently pry his fingers from the baby’s mouth, but she was insistent. “You must take the child now, Beth.”

  She ignored him, her lips tight with anger. “He came here disguised as me? Wearing my same dress? With his hair done up like mine?”

  “Well, yeah,” Justan said, looking her over. “He looked just like you in every detail . . .” He blinked. “Except your bow. He didn’t get that right. And your quiver. He only had one arrow.”

  Justan turned and ran into the range, looking for the bow that the nightbeast had discarded. He picked it up. It was made of dark wood, similar to Beth’s bow, but the handle wasn’t wrapped in snakeskin.

  “He was prepared,” Beth said. Her voice was steady but her eyes burned with rage. “He must have been following me for awhile. Especially if he knew how I dressed this morning. I don’t always wear my hair up this way, you know. Just when I go out walking with Sherl-Ann because she likes to pull on it.”

  Justan’s hand tightened on the bow. “He could have planned this fairly quickly. This bow isn’t a perfect match. Maybe he picked it up in a hurry. Why didn’t he just make a perfect duplicate out of his own flesh? The quiver was part of him. As was his clothes.”

  “Oooh, was he watching me bathe this morning?” Beth fumed. Her fists were clenched now. “How else could he know how I smelled? I used some of the lavender soap Hilt brought me.”

  “The smell is obvious without watching you bathe. The child reeks of it,” Deathclaw remarked, his nostril’s flared. “But you could be right. The nightbeast surely followed you here. It waited until I was with you before it attacked.”

  “But he didn’t attack,” Justan said, throwing the bow to the ground in disgust. “What was his point? He only brought one arrow and he fired it at the tree. Was he just trying to prove he was a good shot?”

  He looked over to the target where the nightbeast’s arrow was still protruding and walked towards it. The arrow was oddly made. Justan had noticed it at the time and it stood out even more now that he was paying closer attention. The white shaft was thick in the middle, but narrowed at the end where the black fletchings started. Justan reached for it.

  “Stop. Let me look at it first,” Deathclaw said. He handed Sherl-Ann back to Beth. The baby fussed, unhappy about leaving his arms. She reached for the raptoid as he walked to Justan’s side. “The arrow could be the real threat.”

  “I guess,” Justan said. The raptoid crouched next to the arrow and Justan frowned. “Wait. If it is explosive or something, you shouldn’t get so close.”

  “Then you should stand back,” Deathclaw said and Gwyrtha agreed. The rogue horse pushed Justan back with her bulk before joining Deathclaw at the arrow. Both of them sniffed at it.

  “I do not smell anything dangerous,” Deathclaw said hesitantly. “The shaft is made of bone.”

  It smells like . . . Gwyrtha’s senses flooded Justan’s mind and he recognized the smell immediately.

  “Paper and ink. I know what this is,” Justan said in understanding. He stepped forward and pulled the arrow out of the target. “This is a messenger arrow.”

  He twisted at the fletched end and pulled and sure enough, it popped free. The center shaft was actually a hollowed-out bone tube and inside was a tightly rolled scroll. Justan unraveled it and saw that the page was filled with Vahn’s familiar flowery script.

  To Sir Edge, or Justan son of whoever,

  Hello again. This message is to assure you that I haven’t forgotten to kill you. I know you’ve been wondering what I’ve been up to. Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve been out recruiting. Now I’m finished. I have a complete new pod of basilisks and I can focus purely on the matter of your death.

  Your murder could occur at any time. It could be a week from now. A month even. Or it could be today if I so choose. It depends on my mood and that changes often. Seriously, I work on whims like that. In fact, I may have turned right around after delivering this note and come back to get you. I might have decided to stick around and watch you read this note, excited to kill you at the height of your fear.

  I could be behind you right now. Go ahead. Turn around and look. You’re itching to look, aren’t you? You have to wonder. Am I that rock? Am I part of that wall over there?

  Justan gritted his teeth.

  “This one is crafty,” Deathclaw said, reading along through the bond. There was something akin to admiration i
n the raptoids thoughts.

  “What does it say?” Beth asked.

  “He’s playing with me,” Justan said. And blast him, it was working. It took an excessive amount of willpower not to glance around and give in to the nightbeast’s taunts. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the page. Surely Gwyrtha would know if Vahn had returned.

  I know I’m being cruel, but I can’t help amusing myself at your expense. You named warriors think so highly of yourselves. I have targeted many of you over the years and I enjoy taking you down a peg before ending you. The only frustrating part is deciding. There are so many ways I could do it. It would be simple to fire an arrow from afar, or I could slip poison into your food. I know of a hundred varieties, many of them tasteless and odorless and many of them causing excruciating pain before death. Then again, I do like the hands on approach. I’m not beyond strangling you in your sleep.

  All you need to know is that when that time comes, I promise you, it will be spectacular.

  With love,

  Vahn

  Oh, and I am truly sorry about the old elf. He was in the way. I hope his death taught you that no one who tries to protect you is safe.

  Justan read the scroll over again, his hands trembling. His whole body shook and it wasn’t from fear. It was rage. Not just at the gall of the nightbeast, but at himself. Why had he let that evil thing get away once again?

  “May I see it, Edge?” Beth asked, shifting the child to her left arm and reaching out with her right hand.

  Justan handed it to her wordlessly, deep in thought. Did Vahn really think he would be so easily frightened? Or was it angering him its real purpose? Did it expect him to act recklessly and leave himself open?

  Beth tried to read the scroll one handed, but it kept rolling up on her. She tried to hold it open with her other hand, but the baby kept reaching for the paper. Finally she groaned in frustration and held the baby out to Justan. “Would you hold her, please?”