The Ogre Apprentice (6 page)

“Children always are,” the woman continued. “You know, your father was terrible with that kind of thing. Always sticking things where they shouldn’t go. His nose or ears, whatever holes were handy, really. Artemus was worried half to death about it. But I told him that the boy would be fine and I was right. He grew out of it.”

“I’m not a child. I’m twenty years old,” Fist said in protest, but then something she said struck him. “Did you say Artemus?”

“Yes, dear. My late first husband,” the woman said, smiling at some distant memory. “He was a sweet man. A good man. I still miss him terribly.” She shook her head, dismissing the memory. “But that was long ago.”

Fist blinked. Surely it was a coincidence. The woman was old, but surely she couldn’t be that old. Humans didn’t live that long. Did they?

Darlan cleared her throat. “Fist, I should introduce you. This is my grandmother, Mistress Sarine.”

Fist’s eyebrows rose. So he was right. “Your grandma? Then she was married to Justan’s great grand-.”

Darlan gave him a warning look. “Yes. That’s right, Fist. Not only is my Grandma Begazzi still alive, I found out last night that she’s actually better known as the ‘famous’ Mistress Sarine, one of the Prophet’s companions.”

Fist wasn’t well versed in human history, but he had heard Justan mention the Prophet’s companions. They were the group of warriors and wizards that had marched on the Dark Prophet’s palace at the end of the great war. That meant that this woman would have been at the Prophet’s side when the Dark Prophet was defeated two hundred years ago.

 “She is also our new council historian,” Darlan continued, a bitter note in her voice. “Another in a long list of facts I learned when she arrived last night.”

“Why Darlan, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you weren’t happy I’m here,” Sarine scoffed.

“I . . .” Darlan’s mouth worked for a moment before words finally spilled out. “It’s just sudden and bizarre, don’t you think? You’ve been alive my whole life without bothering to tell me. Even after my father and mother died and I thought I was completely alone, you didn’t visit! And suddenly you show up calling me, ‘dear’ like you had been around the whole time?”

“Firstly, I’m an old woman. I call everyone ‘dear’,” Sarine protested. “And I have been around! As much as I was allowed. I couldn’t come in person, but I sent you letters. And gifts!”

“Right . . . The packages from my mysterious auntie, living with the elves in Khalpany,” Darlan said.

“It was true. Except for the ‘auntie’ part,” she admitted. “But that’s where I’ve been. In the Pruball Elf Homeland.” She gestured at the elf standing next to Charz. “The olives I sent came from Kyrkon’s own vineyard.”

“Oh! You’re the one who sent Mistress Sherl the elf olives!” Fist said in understanding.

Darlan had been receiving boxes of Khalpany Olives every few months for years. The intense elven magic in them is what had been keeping Darlan and Faldon young for so long. She didn’t talk about it, but as far as Justan had been able to figure, his mother was over 150 years old and his father at least a hundred.

Fist looked at Darlan. “But you said that an old client of yours was sending them.”

“My ‘auntie’ swore me to secrecy,” Darlan replied in a half grumble. “Her letters said that she was sending me the olives as part of a promise to my mother.”

“It was!” Sarine said indignantly. “I promised your mother that I would look after you and I did the best I could from afar.”

“I told you she wasn’t gonna understand, Begazzi,” said the gray-haired dwarf standing by Charz. He was dressed in brown travel clothes that looked like they needed a good washing and he had the oddest beard. His upper lip was clean-shaven, but the beard that hung from his neck and chin was so long that he had tucked the end of it into his trousers. “It’s gonna take a while.”

“Oh, Fist, I have been remiss!” Darlan said. “I should introduce you to these fine people as well. The dwarf here is named Bill. The elf is Kyrkon. And the gnome is Maryanne.” She forced a smile. “They are Sarine’s bonded.”

Fist’s jaw dropped. “She’s a bonding wizard too?”

Darlan nodded half-mockingly. “Interesting how they left that part out of the histories.”

Sarine sighed, “Yes, dear. I am a bonding wizardess and a sorceress. Now do you understand why I had to stay in hiding? At the time of the ban, my name had become famous in the land as a wizardess, but I am a spirit magic specialist. I have no elemental talent whatsoever. I couldn’t hide in plain sight like some of the others.”

After the Dark Prophet’s defeat two hundred years previous, the Prophet had banned the use of spirit magic in Dremaldria. He had forbidden all of the Mage Schools from teaching it and had even taken all mention of it out of the schools’ libraries. The wizards that specialized in its use went into hiding. By the time Justan was born, spirit magic was all but forgotten. Its existence hadn’t been acknowledged until the Prophet had lifted the ban just a few short months ago.

“I’d still be in Khalpany if John hadn’t sent me a letter saying that I could return,” Sarine continued. “The letter from Wizard Valtrek offering me the position on the council arrived only a week later.”

“Odd how he didn’t tell me about that,” Darlan said and from the irritation in her voice, Fist knew that Valtrek’s letter was news to her.

“Please understand, Darlan. I had no choice but to submit to exile,” Sarine said. “A command from the Prophet is a command from the Bowl of Souls itself. As a named wizardess, I could not disobey.”

Some of the hardness left Darlan’s eyes. “Please, Mistress Sarine, forgive me for being upset. Your dwarf-, uh, Bill is right. It will take some time for me to stop being angry with you, but I’m . . . glad you’re here.”

Sarine put on a look of deepest understanding and grasped her granddaughter’s arm. “Oh, Darlan. I know. I know. It has been a difficult return for me as well. I never wanted to leave this school and now that I’m back-.” She waved an arm. “Well, it is so different. This big ugly building, for instance. It wasn’t here in my day. Do you mind if we leave this dreadful room and go outside?”

“Of course,” said Darlan, trying her best to keep the temper out of her voice. “Come, Fist. You should tag along while I think of a fitting punishment for your chicanery this morning.”

Fist blinked at her choice of words. “Uh, I think you mean skullduggery, Mistress Sherl.”

“Shut up and follow me,” she replied, leading Sarine to the door.

Sarine’s bonded began following after them, but the female gnome paused in front of the doorway and turned to face Fist. Maryanne looked young for a gnome, with long auburn hair that covered her droopy ears and a petite mouth that was turned up in an assessing smile. She was well over seven-feet-tall and lithely muscular, wearing a skin-tight suit of elf-made leather armor. She had a rune encrusted bow slung over one shoulder while a quiver bristling with arrows was hanging from her hip.

“So you’re bonded to Sarine’s grandchild, huh?” Maryanne said. She traced a finger down the muscles of one of Fists massive arms. “I think you’re kinda cute.”

She turned and trotted out the door and Fist looked back at Charz with wide eyes. The giant shook his head slowly and with a roll of his eyes said, “Gnomes.”

Alfred laughed.

Fist retrieved his belongings from the chest by the door, then quickly donned his apprentice robes and threw Squirrel’s pouch over his shoulder. The little creature jumped in and he ran out the door after Darlan and the others, trying to pull the leather glove onto his right hand with his teeth while holding his mace in his other hand. They hadn’t gone far. Darlan had paused just outside of the Magic Testing Center.

Mistress Sarine was talking away as Fist arrived. “ . . . And as I was saying earlier, I am constantly struck by how much has changed around here. Don’t misunderstand me, dear. The new clock tower is lovely, as are the fountains in the center square. Just enchanting. But this entire side of the grounds with this testing center and all these warehouses . . . well, frankly they’re just an eyesore.”

The dwarf, Bill, was nodding and stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Well it wouldn’t be so bad, Begazzi, if we could go back in and add some scrollwork along the edges and perhaps redo the roofs with decorative tile.”

“Some colorful paint and some flowerbeds would help, too,” added Kyrkon. The elf was as odd as the dwarf in his own way. His brown hair was cropped short and his clothes were of a strange cut Fist hadn’t seen before, with tight leather pants and a loose flowing shirt. He also wore riding gloves and a thin sword with an ornate pommel hung at his waist.

“Oh!” said Sarine, clapping her hands together. “That sounds wonderful! What do you think, Darlan? Bill could oversee the work. He loves that sort of thing. Would the rest of the council have a problem with that?”

“I don’t see why they would,” she remarked dubiously. “Though Wizard Beehn is the main one you’d have to run it by. He is the one in charge of the grounds, after all.”

“Well, this is all exciting conversation,” Maryanne said, the gnome yawning with boredom. “But what I really want to know is where your archery range is at.”

“It’s a school for magic, dear,” Sarine reminded her.

“But the academy has one,” Fist offered. “In their training grounds out behind the new barracks. They won’t mind if you use it. As long as it’s not already crowded with students.”

The gnome gave him a grateful smile. “See? Look at this big man, Sarine. He’s my hero.”

Fist blinked. Maybe she was confused by his clothing. “Uh . . . I’m not a man. I’m an ogre.”

“Oh, I know,” she replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t you start on him, Maryanne,” Sarine warned, wagging a finger at the gnome.

“I’ll be at the range if you need me, Sarine,” the gnome replied. She brushed past Fist as she walked by and said softly, “You can join me there if you like,” before heading towards the academy buildings.

Oooh
, sent Squirrel, his head peeking out of the top of his pouch.

Fist watched her go, his cheeks reddening. She had spoken to him in much the same way female ogres teased a prospective mate. Surely she wasn’t serious. Was she making fun of him?

“That didn’t take long,” said Bill, sharing amused looks with Kyrkon.

“Sorry, ogre,” the elf added. “She tends to fall for the muscular ones.”

Fist frowned. Now he was sure she’d been making fun of him.

Sarine sighed. “Oh my. I feel I should apologize for Maryanne. She is my newest bonded and she still hasn’t grown past a few of her former flaws, the poor dear.”

“Well I don’t like it,” said Darlan and Fist saw that her glare was following Maryanne’s lithe figure as the gnome jogged away. “See to it that you have a talk with her, would you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about her,” Sarine said, dismissing the idea with a gesture. “She’s harmless.”

“Uh, Mistress Sherl,” Fist said, wanting to change the subject. “There is something I’ve been needing to talk to you about.”

She didn’t look away from the gnome. “Yes, what is it?”

Fist knew how Darlan would react and didn’t want to go over all the details in front of everyone. He cleared his throat and stepped closer, speaking softly. “It’s about Justan. I spoke to him last night and I’ve got news.”

That got her attention. Darlan turned her gaze on him, her brow furrowed in concern. “Did they make it into Malaroo alright?”

“Well, he’s okay, but . . .” Fist tried to give her a look to tell her that he’d prefer to speak alone.

“But what?” she asked, making an impatient gesture.

“I just think that maybe we should-.”

“Stop making faces at me and tell me what happened!” she snapped.

Fist winced. His attempt at subtlety had backfired. Now everyone was looking at him. “Well, Deathclaw and Gwyrtha finally caught up with him yesterday, but when they crossed the Malaroo border . . . they were attacked.”

“Attacked by whom?” Darlan asked warily.

“Was it Jhonate’s father?” said Alfred.

“More basilisks?” Charz asked.

“Oh dear, what has that boy gotten himself into?” Sarine asked, bringing one hand to her mouth.

Fist groaned inwardly. “No! Well, yes. Kind of. They were there, but-.”

“Use coherent sentences, Fist,” Darlan told him.

The ogre tried to answer all the questions, “They were attacked by an army of the wild people. You know, the Roo-Dan. And they had merpeople with them too. Justan and the others fought them for awhile and then some of Jhonate’s people showed up and helped them.”

“Jhonate’s people helped this army?” Darlan said.

“No. Jhonate’s people helped Justan,” Fist corrected. “They defeated the army of wild people together. But then, when the battle was over, the nightbeast snuck in and killed Yntri Yni.”

There was a moment of stunned silence after this statement. None of them knew Yntri well, but Darlan, Charz, and Alfred had met him while Justan’s party had stayed at the Mage School for a couple days. Charz had even shared a bottle of pepperbean wine with him.

“How horrible,” Darlan said.

“Yntri Yni?” said Kyrkon, his face pale and his voice strained. At that moment, Fist saw something in the elf’s eyes that told him Kyrkon was much older than he looked. “Of the ancient ones? But how?”

“The nightbeast had changed itself to look like one of Jhonate’s people. It . . .” Fist shuddered as he recalled the memory Justan had shown him. “It stabbed him in front of everyone. It looked into Justan’s eyes while it did it.”

The elf swallowed. “This is a terrible blow. I should send a message to my sect.”

“You can send a pigeon from the Rune Tower,” Alfred suggested.

“Thank you,” Kyrkon replied. “I remember where it is. They haven’t moved it in the last two hundred years, have they?”

“Not that I know of,” said Alfred. “Some of the droppings look at least that old.”

The elf didn’t smile at the joke, but nodded somberly and began walking towards the tower. He gave Sarine a quick glance along the way and she gave him an encouraging look in return. Fist had been bonded long enough to know that a mental communication had just taken place.

“The Prophet will be so heartbroken,” Sarine said. “John knew that elf for a long time.” She frowned. “But why would someone send a nightbeast after one of the ancient ones? What would they have to gain?”

“It wasn’t after him,” Fist replied. “It was after Justan. Yntri Yni was just in the way.”

“Poor Justan,” Darlan said. “He must be wracked with guilt over it.”

“And just who sent a nightbeast after my great grandson?” asked Mistress Sarine. There was real anger in her voice now.

“Someone in Malaroo,” Darlan said. “We don’t know who for sure, but there is the distinct possibility it could be his future father-in-law.”

“The leader of the Roo-tan? And you let him walk right into it?” Sarine said to Darlan, dumbfounded.

“It’s wasn’t Jhonate’s father,” Fist said. “Justan met Xedrion after the battle and found out that he had nothing to do with it.”

Darlan’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Well that’s good. Does he have any other ideas who it could be?”

Fist shrugged. “Justan has no other enemies that he knows about.”

“It still has to be someone in the Roo-Tan,” Darlan said. “Someone that doesn’t want an alliance between their people and the academy. When you speak with him tonight, tell him to look into any other people among the Roo-Tan that have the kind of wealth needed to hire a nightbeast.”

Fist nodded, but he was pretty sure Justan and Jhonate were already doing just that. “Okay.”

Darlan turned to Sarine and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Please excuse me, Mistress Sarine. I’ve just realized that I have more matters to attend to. I’m sure Alfred can show you the rest of the changes in the school without me.”

“I would be happy to,” the gnome warrior replied with a short bow.

A slight bit of irritation rippled across Sarine’s features, but she put on a polite smile. “Of course, dear. But just call me Sarine. We’re family, after all.”

“I’d prefer to use your proper title for now, thank you,” Darlan replied.

The comment stung the old woman, but she smiled at her granddaughter anyway. “We will have plenty of time to discuss things later.”

“That we will,” Darlan replied, forcing a smile of her own. Then she grabbed the arm of Fist’s robe and yanked him in the direction of the Rune Tower.

Fist followed along meekly, relieved that they were leaving the bonding wizard behind. Fist had found the old woman troubling. She had an intangible quality about her that made her presence overpowering. Perhaps it was a family trait because Darlan had it too. With those two women standing side by side, the large ogre had felt positively small.

Darlan headed straight for the moat around the Rune Tower. They followed along its bank until she was sure that they had moved out of eye and earshot of her grandmother. Then she stopped and turned around to face Fist.

“Alright, listen. I had to get you away from her before you blurted something I hadn’t prepared her for.”

“You mean, about the Scralag?” the ogre surmised.

“I haven’t told her about that yet. I told her about the rest of Justan’s bonded earlier, but not that one,” she said. Darlan reached up with both hands to rub at her temples. “I haven’t told her about Artemus yet for a few reasons. First of all, I barely know the woman. I have no idea how she’ll react to the news that her husband’s soul is still around, trapped inside my son’s chest. Secondly, I am angry at her.”

“You seem angry a lot of the time,” Fist remarked, then winced, regretting the words as soon as they had left his mouth.

Stupid
, Squirrel agreed. The ogre braced himself for a dressing down or perhaps even an incineration but, to his surprise, she chuckled.

“Oh Fist, if I’m angry with you it’s because I care. I don’t waste my emotion on people I don’t care about.” She poked his chest with a stiff finger. “I am still furious with you about the trick you pulled earlier, by the way.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Fist said.

“What got into your head?” she asked.

The ogre shrugged. “I wanted to try the spells again, but I thought you’d be in a meeting all morning, so I got Charz. I knew that I couldn’t hurt him with them and I didn’t think I’d hurt myself.”

“You think your spells didn’t hurt him?” Darlan said, an eyebrow raised. “His skin was smoking when we got there. Patches of his back were glowing hot. Sure he healed up afterwards, but you owe him an apology.”

Fist’s face blanched. She was right. He had known that the spells would cause the giant pain and he had ignored the fact. “I will try to make it up to him.”

She folded her arms. “So what went wrong with the spell?”

“I tried my other spells first. I made a column of earth and I did that clay encasement spell you taught me the other day. They worked good, but I think I used up too much of my magic for the big spell,” he said. “I made the cloud and built up the electricity but when I let it go, I didn’t have enough earth magic left to protect me.”

Darlan nodded. “That’s a danger with large spells like cloud lightning. They are usually used as a last defense and you are often already exhausted by the time you’re in a situation where you need to use them. You need to learn your limits or you will kill yourself one day.”

“I understand,” the ogre said.

“Hmm. I think it’s time we trained your stamina,” Darlan said, stroking her chin as she thought. “Alright, this is how I want you to do it. Each night, just before you go to bed, drain your magic completely.”

“How?” he asked.

She smiled. “It’s an old trick I learned back when I was an apprentice. What you do is you make a ball of light. Then you focus on keeping it as dim as possible.”

Fist frowned. Making a ball of light was one of the first spells she had taught him. It required only a low amount of focus, but it was very inefficient, taking a lot of energy and making a bright light. Dimming it required tightening up the spell, which meant pouring more energy into it. That was why wizards still preferred to use candles or light orbs. Still, there had to be faster ways to drain his magic.