“He was barely coherent. We couldn’t get a name out of him,” Qenzic added. “Anyway, Lyramoor got him out of the ice and lowered him down to the rest of us. We were able to get a fire started and warm him up. Then the dwarf starts raving, going on and on about blood on his hands.”
“What he kept saying over and over was ‘they wouldn’t die’,” Lyramoor said.
“Right,” said Qenzic. “He got louder and louder and suddenly he rushes one of the villagers. He’s scratching at her. Biting at her. Lyramoor and I had to pull him off of her.”
Fist swallowed. This was starting to sound familiar. He looked to Locksher and saw the wizard’s eyebrow rise with interest.
Locksher took out his notebook. “Describe this dwarf to me. Was he wounded when you found him?”
“He was bruised and scratched. His clothes were torn,” Qenzic said. “He smelled like he hadn’t bathed since . . . ever.”
“His forearm was bandaged up,” Lyramoor added. “It looked like a nasty wound. He could barely move that hand.”
Locksher nodded, jotting down notes. “And what were his symptoms when he attacked you? Did he have a fever?”
“His skin was hot,” Qenzic said. “I remember that from when we pulled him off the lady. He was just screaming like he was in pain.”
“Do you think he had maggots in him?” Fist asked.
“It’s likely,” Locksher replied. “What happened next?”
“We had to kill him,” Lyramoor said, his voice grim.
“But he wouldn’t go down,” Qenzic said. “Lyramoor stabbed him through the heart and he fell, but then he got back up and kept attacking. He was quiet after that, though. His mouth was open like he was trying to yell, but no sound came out.”
Rub spat. “The evil had him.”
“That is what happens,” Crag confirmed. “They only get quiet when they die. But they keep fighting. You have to mash all their bones and throw them in the fire.”
The two warriors stared at the ogre and Qenzic said. “Uh, he’s right. We didn’t ‘mash his bones’, but we had to dismember him and even after that, he didn’t stop moving until we burned him.”
Fist shivered at the thought of it, but Crag simply nodded as if they had made a wise decision.
“This confirms what I have discovered about this threat,” Locksher said. He told them what he had learned from studying the contents of the chest. There was a moment of silence as everyone digested the information.
Finally Darlan spoke. “So we know how this ‘evil’ spreads, we know how to destroy the larvae, and we know how to fight those that are taken over. What we still don’t understand is the nature of the enemy behind the larvae. We need to find out what it is and soon. I fear that the winter is the only thing holding it back.”
“I agree,” Locksher said. “Once summer comes, it will spread quickly.”
“I guess we’ll find out who our enemy is when we get there,” Charz said. The giant cracked his thick knuckles in a series of loud pops. “Whoever they are, I plan on punching ‘em in the face.”
“It is a big evil,” Crag said as if that explained everything. He grunted with confidence. “Fist will kill it with his lightnings.”
“Well, whatever we’re up against, you’ll need to keep us informed,” Faldon said. “If we need to put together a large strike force for an attack this spring, we’ll have to know as soon as possible.”
“That shall not be a problem,” Alfred said. The gnome’s voice had a lightness to it. He was pleased about something. “I will be staying at the academy build site where I can make regular reports to the council. Charz will keep me updated on their progress and I’ll pass everything I know on to Beehn.”
“And I’ll tell Sarine what happens,” Maryanne said. She had been quiet up to that point. The female gnome was sitting on the ground cross-legged. She had unclipped her quiver from her belt and emptied it onto the ground. She was looking over each arrow one-by-one, examining them for straightness and balance.
“That should work out nicely,” said Faldon.
“We really should get going,” Darlan said, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “We will need to press in order to make the wedding as it is.”
“Alright, then. I think we’ve discussed what we needed to discuss.” Faldon said. He returned his attention to Fist and his father. “Qenzic and Lyramoor are well trained scouts. They know the mountains well and can gather information at any villages you pass along the way. Do you have anything else to discuss? Any questions?”
That elf smells funny, Squirrel remarked. The scent he was catching was utterly foreign. Some kind of spicy musk. He didn’t like it.
“I have a request,” Locksher announced. “It has become evident that I need a horse for this journey.”
Faldon smiled. “I thought you didn’t like horses.”
Locksher blinked at him. “I have neither a like or dislike of horses. It is true that I do prefer walking in most cases. It is good for the circulation and jostles my equipment less. However, horses are an efficient mode of transportation through certain kinds of terrain. In this situation a horse would be preferred. These ogres walk too fast and the spell that I have to use in order to keep up is tiring.”
“I see,” said Faldon with a chuckle. “Unfortunately, we didn’t bring along any extra horses.”
“Nonsense,” said Darlan with a wave of her hand. “Locksher, you can use mine. Faldon won’t mind if I ride behind him. Will you, Dear?”
“Uh, no. That will be fine,” Faldon replied and Darlan took Locksher over to her horse.
“I have a question,” Fist said. “Why is Maryanne coming?” It had been bothering him ever since Charz had announced it and seeing her again made him even more nervous. Explaining her to the ogres, Puj in particular, was going to be difficult. “Alfred is bonded to Professor Beehn. He can tell the wizards what they need to know.”
“I’m coming because I want to come,” Maryanne snapped. “You got a problem with that, big guy?”
“Well . . . not a problem. Not really,” Fist said, raising his hands. “I just wondered why-.”
“I have my own reasons for sending her along, dear,” interrupted Mistress Sarine, giving Fist a comforting pat on the arm that was in stark contrast to the firm look in her eyes. “I assure you that she will be of great use to you on this journey. Maryanne is the best archer I have ever seen. And, like you, her bond will protect her from the enemy’s magic.”
“I wasn’t saying that I have a problem with her coming,” Fist replied, though he didn’t see how an archer would be of much use against the things they would encounter.
“This women is coming . . . to fight?” Crag scoffed. “There is no problem with this?”
Fist winced, expecting an outburst from Darlan or worse an arrow from the gnome at this point, but support came from an unlikely source.
“Many of the little people send their womens to fight,” said Burl. The veteran warrior was eyeing Maryanne warily. “They can be good warriors or mages. I seed many strong ogres killed by them in the war.”
“Killed by womens?” Crag snorted in disdain. “Then the Barldag is a bad chief.”
“Burl’s right, Crag,” Charz said and Fist hoped that his father would calm down. Crag respected the giant. “And gnome warrior women are the most dangerous there is. Believe me, we want her on our side.”
Crag shook his head. “No! I am chief! The Thunder People will not have a women fight.”
At that remark, Maryanne stood and raised her bow. Her jaw was clenched and she had an arrow in one hand. Things were going bad fast. Fist moved between the gnome and his father and raised his voice.
“Stop, Crag! You are chief of the Thunder People, but you are not the chief of The Big and Little People! I am the leader of this journey. You agreed to this.”
“I did not agree to womens fighting!” Crag replied.
“You agreed that I was in charge,” Fist said. “I say
she can come!”
Crag’s face went red with anger, but he surprised Fist by keeping his voice steady. “This skinny women is part of your tribe, Fist?”
“Uh, yes!” Fist found himself saying. He hoped that none of the others would contradict him.
“Your tribe lets the womens fight?” Crag asked.
Fist gave him a firm nod. “My tribe lets the women do whatever they want,”
“You tribe is . . .” Crag pressed his lips together and breathed heavily through his nose. He locked on to Fist’s eyes and Fist matched him glare for glare. Finally the ogre chieftain let out a disgusted sigh.
“You lead, ogre mage. I promised.” Crag unfolded his arms and pointed to Burl and Rub. “We go back to camp. I am hungry.”
The ogre chieftain turned and strode away. His two companions followed behind him, Burl shooting cautious glances back at them as they went.
Fist watched his father leave with trepidation. That had been too easy. Crag had let his pride be hurt. Why? And how long would it be before he decided that he’d had enough?
He turned around to find Maryanne standing in front of him, her hands on her hips, a sour expression on her face. “So I’m part of your tribe now? A skinny ogre, am I?”
“I’m sure that’s not what he meant, dear,” Sarine soothed.
“No, my tribe isn’t like that. It’s not a regular ogre tribe.” he continued. “I had to say that to Crag right then, but I was going to ask you anyway. All three of you,” he said, gesturing to Qenzic and Lyramoor. “Since you are going to be with us on this journey, I would like to invite you to join my tribe. It’s called the Big and Little People.”
“Really?” Qenzic said. He and Lyramoor gave each other quizzical looks.
“How sweet of you, dear,” said Sarine.
“It’s a good tribe,” Faldon said encouragingly. “Filled with good people.”
Some of the hostility had left Maryanne’s eyes. The gnome cocked her head. “I’m starting to feel flattered. Who else is in this tribe of yours?”
Fist cleared his throat and tried to impart the importance of his offer. “The Big and Little Tribe is me and Squirrel, Justan, Deathclaw, Gwyrtha, Jhonate,” He gestured at Justan’s parents. “Faldon and Mistress Sherl are in it. And Lenny and Bettie . . . oh, and their baby. What’s his name again?”
“Uh, Jack,” Faldon said.
“Or is it Jacques?” Darlan asked. “I think that’s what Bettie said.”
“So, baby Jack is in it,” Fist continued. “Miss Nala and her kids, you don’t know them. Uh, Tolivar and his bonded, Hilt and Beth. Also my friends at the Mage School, Antyni, Jezzer, and Neau.” Fist bit his lip, making sure he didn’t leave anyone out. “Oh! And Charz and Professor Locksher.”
Faldon gave Qenzic an encouraging nod and the graduate said, “That’s certainly an auspicious company, Fist, and Lyramoor and I are pleased that you would ask. But why us?”
“You will be traveling with us for a many weeks,” Fist said. “The Thunder People tribe has agreed to an alliance with my tribe. I think it would be safer if you were a part of it.”
Maryanne chuckled and moved closer to him. “Aww. So this is for our protection?”
“Y-yes,” Fist said, trying not to be aware of the fact that she had put an arm around him and was resting her hand on his lower back. “The Thunder People are not evil, but they can be . . . rough. They will know that they shouldn’t fight with you, but it’s easy to make them angry. Especially since they are not used to humans or elves or gnomes. If you are part of my tribe, the other ogres know that you are under my protection.”
Lyramoor didn’t look too keen on the idea. He folded his arms. “What does being a part of this tribe of yours entail?”
“Well . . . it means that we are family. We watch out for each other,” Fist said.
The elf still looked doubtful, “I already have loyalties.”
“We won’t force you to choose between us and the academy. Or your other family,” Fist assured him.
“And if we should want out at some point?” Lyramoor pressed.
Fist frowned. He hadn’t considered that this could be a problem. No one had refused being a part of his tribe before. “I guess you can leave if you decide you don’t like us anymore.”
Lyramoor rubbed his chin. “What if we were to just ‘pretend’ that we are part of your tribe until the journey is over.”
Fist stammered, unsure how to answer. He was finding the elf’s reluctance quite off-putting.
Qenzic cleared his throat. “I accept your offer, Fist. I am honored to be part of any tribe with Sir Edge.”
Lyramoor sighed. “I guess I’ll join too.”
Fist looked to the gnome. She had finally removed her hand from his back. “What about you?”
Maryanne slipped her arm through his. “Oh, I’ll join your tribe any time, big man.”
“Is there some kind of ceremony to let us in?” Qenzic asked.
“Uh, no.” Fist said, trying to decide how rude it would be if he pulled his arm away from the gnome warrior. “D-do you think there should be?”
“No. It’s fine,” Lyramoor assured him. “I prefer a life with as little ceremony as possible.”
“Oh. I had always just asked people if they wanted to join, but maybe if there was a ceremony of some kind it would feel more special?” Fist was finding the idea appealing. After all, asking someone to join his family should feel more important. He had noticed that some of the ogres had branded themselves with the jagged lightning symbol of the Thunder People. Perhaps something like that would be good?
Ouch! No, said Squirrel, shaking his head.
“I think we could work something out,” said Maryanne giving him a suggestive grin.
Darlan walked up and grasped Fist’s other arm. “Maryanne, do you mind if I borrow him for a moment?” The gnome let go and Darlan turned her eyes on Mistress Sarine. “Can I speak with you too, grandmother?”
Darlan dragged Fist and Sarine followed. When Darlan felt that she was a safe distance away, she dropped Fist’s arm and whirled to face her grandmother. “Maybe Fist had a good point. Maybe she shouldn’t go with them.”
Sarine gave her a patient smile. “Dear, I know what you’re worried about, but believe me there is nothing to worry about. Maryanne has a habit of developing little crushes, but she never takes it far. She is just flirting. That is all.”
“And you are sure of this?” Darlan said.
“Sherl, dear, she may be the newest of my bonded, but we have been together for four years. I have seen this half a dozen times. Fist will be fine.”
“If you say so,” Darlan said dubiously.
“I do,” Sarine said. “Maryanne needs this. She hasn’t been away from my side for more than a day or two since we bonded. It will be good for her to get away and stretch her legs, so to speak.”
Darlan nodded slowly. “I can see that. Nevertheless, Fist, if she gets out of hand have Charz tell Alfred so he can let me know.”
“Okay,” said Fist. There was no way he was going to talk to Charz about something like that.
“You really are too concerned, dear,” Sarine said. “Would it really be so bad if these two children did get together?”
Darlan’s brow furrowed as if she hadn’t considered the merits of such a union before.
Puj won’t like it, Squirrel said. Say you already have a mate.
Puj is not my mate, Fist replied. He needed to change the subject. “Justan fought the nightbeast yesterday.”
That got their attention. He spent the next several minutes retelling the story as Justan had told it to him, while both women peppered him with questions.
“The elf’s funeral is in three weeks?” Sarine asked. “That gives him time to prepare.”
“Yes, Justan and Yntri Yni’s wife are meeting with Xedrion today to make plans,” Fist said.
Darlan sighed. “Well, I am grateful to Beth for watching out for him. I shall have to sen
d her a letter. I can’t believe how Xedrion has been treating Justan. Toadstools, but that man’s behavior is deplorable! Jhonate must keep her father in line.”
“Darlan!” called Faldon. He was standing near the horses and pointing at the sun. It had now risen well over the mountain tops.
“We must get going,” Darlan said. “Quickly, is there anything else we need to discuss? Are your lessons with Locksher going well?”
“Uh, yes. He’s teaching me when he gets the chance,” Fist replied. “He showed me how to dry out firewood. Oh, and I’ve been draining my magic every night like you told me. Making that ball of light works real well, just like you said.”
Darlan shook her head. “Fist, when I told you to use that technique I didn’t know you were taking this journey. I intended for you to use it at the Mage School where you are in a safe environment. You should never use it on the road.”
“I shouldn’t?” Fist said.
“When your magic is that drained you’ll sleep through nearly anything. What if your group is attacked at night? Even if they could wake you, your magic would be too drained to be of any use.”
“Oh,” said Fist, disappointed. She had a point. He did sleep very deeply after draining his magic. “But it really helps me keep away the dreams I have been having.”
“I am afraid you’ll have to put up with dreams,” Darlan said with a shake of her head. “We all do.”
Mistress Sarine, who started to walk towards the horses, turned back and gripped Fist’s arm. “What was this about dreams, dear? Have you been having nightmares?”
“Yes,” Fist said, surprised by the intensity in her eyes. “Bad ones. But when I drain my magic completely, they go away.”
“You mustn’t avoid your dreams,” Sarine replied.
“But why?” he asked.
“Because you are a bonding wizard, dear. Those of us with special spiritual talents have access to a deeper part of the world of dreams than most people. The things you see there could be bits of the future, the present, or the past. It’s different for each of us, but there are always important things to learn. John would never verify this, but I think they are the Creator’s way of speaking with us.”
The Ogre Apprentice Page 26