Mom looked to Throll, awaiting his decision.
The ranger sighed. “Very well, young one. But if it makes one wrong move, I’ll dispatch it without a moment’s regret. Understood?”
Aaron nodded. “Understood.”
Mom knelt by the huge creature and reached out to touch the ogre’s chest. “My name is Aubrey,” she said softly. “I’m going to touch you in several spots to try and heal you. I don’t think it will hurt, but if it does, please understand what I’m doing.”
Aaron and Throll looked on as she went to work on the massive body of the ogre. She would find a spot on the creature’s body, pause, concentrate, and then gobble down some food from her satchel.
“I’ve never seen someone so small eat so much in my life,” Throll murmured after she’d done this several times.
She repeated the procedure for at least thirty minutes with no obvious change in the ogre’s condition. Then again, his injuries were apparently internal, so it was hard to know.
And then suddenly the ogre’s eyes opened wide.
Mom quickly stepped back. “Can you understand me?” she asked.
“Yes, Aubrey,” the ogre replied. “And I could hear you, as well.”
“How do you know my name?” Mom asked.
“You told it to me. You explained what you were doing and that you intended to heal me. I couldn’t speak, but I could hear.”
Throll stepped forward, his hand on the pommel of his sword. “What manner of sorcery enables you to speak? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
The ogre turned its head to face the ranger. It still hadn’t sat up. “I was born different from my kin. I learned to speak when I was very young. I don’t know why.”
“How do you feel?” Aaron asked.
The ogre grimaced. “Like I was thrown off a mountain.”
Aaron gasped. “You were thrown?”
The ogre ignored the question. “I cannot feel my legs.”
“Don’t move,” Mom said. “It’s probably a broken back or neck. I don’t know if I can heal that, but I’ll try—if you promise not to hurt us once you’re healed.”
The ogre held up one massive hand. “I, Ohaobbok, formerly of the Bloody Fist Clan, promise that I will only harm those who try to harm me. I know that you kind people are trying to help. You don’t owe me this help, and I am indebted to you for it.”
Satisfied, Mom moved in and put one hand on the ogre’s chest and the other on his neck. She concentrated only for a moment before gasping and falling back into Aaron’s waiting arms.
“Mom? Are you okay?”
“Food,” she said.
Sloane hurried forward with bread and cheese. When Mom had eaten, she snapped back to her feet.
“Do you feel any different?” she asked the ogre.
“My right leg is in agony,” Ohaobbok said through clenched teeth. “Though I suppose that’s better than having no feeling at all.”
Mom knelt down and grasped the ogre by the thigh and ankle. She shook for a moment, then stood.
Ohaobbok sighed. “The pain has lessened. Thank you.”
Mom turned to Throll. “I’m out of food, so I can’t continue healing him, and we can’t move him in this state. Also, I’m not sure how much more I can do right now, even with food. I’m starting to feel nauseous.”
Throll held a worried expression as he put a hand on Mom’s shoulder, “You need to take it slowly. Remember, you’re pregnant.”
Mom nodded. “I think I need to rest a bit before I try to do any more healing. Can we make him comfortable?”
Sloane stepped forward. “Why don’t we build a temporary shelter over him? We have the equipment we’ll need in the wagon.”
“I’ll help,” Aaron said.
“And I’ll go back to the house to fetch some food and drink,” Mom said. “Ohaobbok, what do you eat? Will chicken suffice?”
The ogre made a disgusted face. “I don’t eat chicken, or any meat. I enjoy berries. I also like potatoes and carrots. I’ve only had them once, but they were wonderful.”
Throll’s surprise was evident. “You don’t eat meat?”
Ohaobbok sighed. “I’m a disgrace. It’s one of the many reasons I was thrown out of my clan by my own mother.”
Aaron felt his sympathy for this creature swell. “It’s okay, Ohaobbok. We’ve got tons of potatoes. We’ll take care of you.” He smiled. “I promise.”
For the next three weeks, Ohaobbok remained in the shelter Aaron and Sloane had built for him beside the cliff. Mom applied her healing touch every day; even her magic wasn’t enough to heal such deep injuries without the added benefit of time. But the day finally came when Aaron and Throll entered the shelter to find Ohaobbok sitting up, daintily eating some steamed vegetables.
Ohaobbok let loose a tremendous burp.
Aaron laughed. “How are you feeling?”
“Thanks to your mother, I’m feeling close to normal.”
Throll threw a pile of cloth at Ohaobbok’s feet. “Good. Put that on. We’re leaving this field today and taking you to my house. Aaron has set up a spare room in the barn.”
The cloth was a long brown robe with a hood. Standing to his full height of seven feet, Ohaobbok put the robe on over his stitched tunic, the gave it an approving look. “Thank you, Throll. Thank you, Aaron.”
“Put your hood up too, please, and pull it forward,” Throll said. “You must forgive me, but if anyone were to see an ogre walking about… well, you’ll attract the wrong kind of attention.”
Ohaobbok nodded. “I understand.”
As they stepped out of the shelter, Aaron saw that Ohaobbok’s injuries still weren’t completely healed; he walked with a slight limp.
“Ohaobbok, it looks like you’re still injured. Should I bring back the wagon to carry—”
“No,” the ogre shook his head. “I need to walk, it is better for me.”
Throll nodded and set a very leisurely pace. It took hours to return to the Lancaster home, but their timing was excellent—various aromas hit them as they stepped through the front door, and Mom, Gwen, and Sloane were in a flurry of activity. Dinner was almost ready.
Gwen was the only one among them who had not yet met the ogre, but she showed no surprise or alarm at seeing this tall hooded creature in her home. She stood in front of him and smiled. “Ohaobbok, welcome to our home. I’m Gwen.”
“Thank you, Gwen. I am grateful for the vegetables you’ve been sending me.”
“You can remove your hood, now that you’re inside our home. I like to see who I’m talking to.”
“I would think seeing my face might make you more nervous.”
Gwen huffed. “Nonsense. I don’t judge people by their faces.”
Ohaobbok lowered the hood, looking a little nervous as he did so.
But Gwen just put a hand on his arm. “That’s better. Now go with Throll and wash up. It’s about time to eat.”
While Throll led Ohaobbok away, Aaron headed for the living room, where he found his brother and father engaged in one of their magical exercises. Dad was dangling a bracelet-sized metal ring from a rope, and beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead as he carefully pushed a thread of bluish-white electricity from one hand, through the ring, and to his other hand. But even as Aaron looked on, Dad appeared to lose his concentration, and the thread of electricity leapt upward and burned the rope. The ring fell.
Springing to action, Ryan quickly captured the ring in a reddish cage of plasma. “Caught it!”
Dad shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it. I can’t use the energy I’m pushing without it burning something.”
Ryan shrugged. “I can’t explain it. It’s like I’m wrapping the energy in a protective blanket.”
“Whereas all I can do is send out uncontrolled torrents of fiery energy. I’ve got no control at all.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m sure you’ll catch up eventually.”
Dad ruffled Ryan’s hair. “Don’t
let your ego get too big, my little wizard.” Dad looked up at Aaron. “Hey, buddy.”
“Hey, Dad.” Aaron tried to look happy, but he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous at how much time his brother and father had been spending together, working on their shared skill.
Mom poked her head in. “Food is ready, boys. And there will be no talk of experiments at the dinner table.”
“You know, Mom,” Aaron said through a bite of a chicken wing, “Ohaobbok is favoring one of his legs. You might want to take a look at it.”
Mom stood from her seat and moved to the ogre’s side. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she scolded. “You told me you felt great!”
Aaron chuckled as his diminutive mother berated the much larger Ohaobbok. She put her hand on his leg, and as usual, it looked to Aaron, and everyone else, like nothing was happening. But then she swooned and had to grab the table for support. She drained a large cup of milk, then went back to work. After a moment, she stepped back.
“I think it’s mended,” she said. “My energy stopped flowing into you, which usually means there’s no longer an injury. Stand up and walk. I want to make sure.”
The ogre did as he was told, and it was clear that he was walking with a more comfortable stride.
“I think I’m back to normal,” Ohaobbok said. “Thank you.”
Mom smacked the giant on the shoulder. “Next time tell me if there’s something wrong, or I’ll give you a reason to regret it.”
The ogre smiled and sat back down. “Understood.”
After dinner, Aaron insisted that he be the one to show Ohaobbok his new quarters. Inside the barn, he and Throll had stacked up hay bundles ten feet high, creating a room in the back corner. As Ohaobbok stepped around it, he smiled with pleasure at the sight of the oversized straw mattress atop a giant wooden frame.
“I made that bed myself!” Aaron said proudly. “I know it’s huge, even for you, but Throll says you might grow to be twice your size before you’re finished, so I made sure it’ll hold you for quite a while.”
Aaron then showed him the huge storage bin loaded with nothing but potatoes. “Sloane and I snuck these in from the field,” he said with a laugh. “I remember you said you loved potatoes, so if you get hungry at night, this might be a good snack, don’t you think?”
The ogre looked down at him. “I have no words to express my gratitude, Aaron. I hope a simple ‘thank you’ will suffice.”
Aaron smiled. “You’re most welcome, my friend.”
Prophecies
The next morning, Ohaobbok woke to a strange sensation: a body free of cramped muscles and soreness. He marveled at the power of a straw bed and how it could make such a difference over sleeping on a rock.
He put on his robe and strolled outside. It was a beautiful day, with air that smelled damp from a light drizzle that had fallen overnight. He would have paused to admire it, but the rumbling in his stomach drove him toward the house. On his way in, he passed Sloane, Aaron, and Silver heading out.
“Hey, Ohaobbok,” Aaron said with a wave. “Sloane and I are working in the fields again today. We’ll see you at dinnertime.”
The others were in the dining room, engaged in a heated debate regarding some kind of ritual bath for a newborn, as far as Ohaobbok could make out. Aubrey motioned for him to take a seat at her side, then served him a plate overloaded with vegetables and fruit, along with a large jug of white liquid.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Cow’s milk. Have you never seen milk before?”
Ohaobbok shrugged. “No.”
“Well, drink it. You’re a growing boy. You need the vitamins.”
“You probably shouldn’t argue with her,” Jared said with a smirk. “She’ll be threatening to spank you next.”
As everyone laughed, Ohaobbok realized that he’d been accepted fully by these kind people. A genuine smile crossed his lips.
“I don’t want to go through the fountain bathing ritual,” Throll announced, resuming the debate. “I have a bad feeling about it.”
“Listen, Throll,” Gwen said. “No matter what happens in the fountain, nothing will harm this baby. And even if it did, with Aubrey here, I have every confidence that we’ll never have to suffer through an inexplicable illness.” She trained a hot gaze on her husband. “We’re expected to show respect for the First Protector. We will go through with the bathing ritual.”
“The First Protector?” Ohaobbok asked, his heart skipping at the name. “How are you showing respect to the First Protector by bathing a baby in a fountain?”
Gwen smiled. “It’s our belief that, through the waters of the fountain, he provides a blessing to the child.”
Ohaobbok was confused. “How can he provide a blessing through a fountain when he resides in a cave in the mountains?”
Silence fell over the room.
“What do you mean he resides in a cave in the mountains?” Throll asked.
Ohaobbok explained his encounter with the dwarves, and what Mattias had told him about the cave being the resting place of the First Protector. He recited from memory the prophecy the dwarf had shared with him.
“Could this be true?” Gwen asked in a hushed voice.
“Mattias Hammerthrower insists it is so,” Ohaobbok said. “By way of proof, he recited a second prophecy, this one passed down from the First Protector to Mattias’s great-great-grandfather, down his familial line from father to son. There will be signs to signify the return of the First Protector. There will come a time when a humble mage arrives in Trimoria, a man possessed of wondrous magical powers. His children will be of both magic and might. The mage’s elder son will grow to lead the Protector’s wizard troops against the minions of the ultimate evil. His mighty younger son will come to lead the Protector’s army. You will know that the time of the First Protector’s return is upon you when you are greeted by a saintly ogre that eats no meat. This ogre will serve as guardian in the abyss, when we face the ultimate evil.”
Again, the room responded with a long silence.
But this time it was Aubrey who broke it. “Jared… do you think the ‘humble man’ from the prophecy could be you?”
Jared looked uneasy. “I was thinking the same thing. We are from a land outside Trimoria, which I think eliminates most people. Ryan has an ever-growing capacity for magic, and Aaron is physically stronger than most adults. I hate to say it, but the facts do fit the prophecy.”
“Mattias said it was unclear what the next step would be,” Ohaobbok said. “He said that even though I’m an indicator that we’ve entered into a new time, it could still be a decade or more before the First Protector returns.”
Throll frowned. “Let’s go to the fountain. I haven’t examined it closely since Sloane was born, and I have a feeling some answers may reside there.”
The two women opted to stay behind, claiming they had too much work to do, but Ohaobbok, Jared, and Ryan all set out with Throll. As the ranger led the way across Aubgherle, they passed several townspeople, all of whom knew Throll and greeted him. Most looked askance at Ohaobbok, however, and some gave him a wide berth. He pulled his hood tight over his face, ashamed to cause such a reaction.
Throll took them down a well-worn path on the outskirts of town, and as they rounded a corner, there it was: the fountain.
The exterior was nothing special: drab gray stone, streaked with dirt and overgrown with vines. But its interior shone a brilliant white, and the water in the basin was clear and unspoiled by any pollutants—not a single stray leaf or speck of dirt. Rising up in the center of the basin was a statue of a man who was very familiar to Ohaobbok. He had his arms outstretched, the white orb grasped in his hands.
Ohaobbok’s jaw dropped. “That’s the man from my dreams.”
Throll looked surprised at this. “You mean to say that ogres have the First Protector’s dream just like everyone else?”
“So you have it too,” Ohaobbok said, considering this. “Just like t
he dwarves.” He shook his head. “Still, I cannot believe someone was able to capture the likeness so exactly. It’s beautiful.”
“Actually,” said Throll, “one of these fountains exists in or near every significant town in Trimoria.”
“And they all look the same?”
“Yes.”
Ohaobbok knelt before the fountain and dipped his hand into the basin. The moment his hand contacted the water, the statue’s orb began to softly glow. When the ogre pulled his hand out of the water, the glow ceased.
Ohaobbok’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
The ranger looked concerned. “I… don’t know for certain. Traditionally, we only bathe our infants in the water, so an adult—much less an ogre—is beyond my experience. But for an infant… such an outcome has always foretold tragedy. I’m sorry, Ohaobbok.”
Ryan stepped forward to dip his own hands in the fountain. But before he had even made contact with the water, the orb glowed again.
Now both Ryan and Ohaobbok looked to Throll. But the ranger had no answers. Just more concern.
A flock of birds fluttered from a nearby tree, looking distressed as they darted away from the scene.
Ryan dipped his hand in the water. The orb lit up like a beacon, and the bluish-white glow nearly blinded Ohaobbok. As he rubbed his eyes, he heard Throll call out, and when his vision returned the ranger was standing beneath the tree from which the birds had flown, gesturing threateningly at the branches with his sword.
A figure dropped from the tree—a boy. The ranger led him back to the fountain.
“You’re dead!” the boy said, glaring at Ryan.
Throll lashed out at the boy with his foot, kicking him to the ground. “Is this who I think it is?” he asked Ryan.
Ryan nodded. “That’s Slug all right.”
The boy’s face grew red. “I told you, my name is Sling.”
Heirs of Prophecy Page 13