Chapter Thirteen
~
I shivered from the cold, early-mornin’ air as I walked to the ogre’s outhouse. I revisited the long conversation I had with the wizard the night before. For a man assessin’ my and Morgan’s potential, he certainly hadn’t asked any questions about my majical—skill. Prolly figgered, accurately enough, it’s nil.
The ogre had avoided conversation. He stayed busy all afternoon cleanin’ and fiddlin’ about the cabin, gettin’ it settled after bein’ away for weeks, his excuse for keepin’ his thoughts to himself. A hurried dinner out of the way, Morgan curled up on his cot and left me alone with Selene. Did Morgan say even ten words the rest of the day, after the meetin’ with the wizards?
My business done, I looped my pants together and turned for the cabin. Selene strode toward me for his turn at the outhouse.
“Eh,” the man said in greetin’.
“Mornin’.”
Walkin’ toward the front of the cabin, I peered into the foggy gloom of the forest. Despite the early hour, the birds were well embarked into their day. Crows cawed in every direction, reportin’ whatever it was that interested them to their crew. The hammer of a woodpecker echoed from somewhere, seemin’ly everywhere at once, and a pair of jays complained, prolly about the racket their cousin’s raised.
I turned the corner of the cabin and walked fully into the ogre. Bam. An unmanly screech maybe snuck out.
“Ya should watch where ya’re goin’, or go where ya’re lookin’,” Morgan muttered.
“Good advice,” I answered, makin’ my way around the hulkin’ ogre.
I grinned, watchin’ the shoulders of the giant swayin’ back and forth as he walked away. So started the last four days of my life. Maybe. I couldn’t imagine any dozen men bein’ able to hurt the giant. Maybe that’s why a sense of doom didn’t swirl about me.
I considered my days north of the Black Lake Range, and reminded myself of the fragility of life. Maybe I should be more concerned. Then again, ogre Ike refused to fret over an arrow that penetrated his back. Them ogres are tough critters.
Inside, I rolled up my new sleeping fur, stoked the hearth, and swung the kettle over the growin’ flames. Selene entered, rubbin’ his hands together.
“Dang it’s cold in these mountains.”
“Imagine what a winter’s like. Snow banks up to the limbs of the pines.”
Selene knelt and rolled his own beddin’ up. The man required a proper fur. No wonder he’s cold.
We both leaned over the hearth, arses pointed into the new flames when Morgan strode in. His eyes glanced back and forth between me and Selene, as though irritated he had to share his humble castle. With humans? It wasn’t my idea to be here. I almost said as much, but the ogre’s face remained scrunched up as though he was ready to twist a puppy in two, so I let the idea drop. The ogre’s mood had somehow soured in the last five minutes.
Morgan went to the counter and withdrew tins from the shelves against the wall.
“What can I do?” Selene asked.
“Take yar friends and return north.”
“Wish I could,” Selene said softly.
“Why’s this Ollimon fellow so afraid of me?” Morgan asked.
“Wouldn’t say that man is afraid of much of anything. Can’t say his attitude about unknown talent is that simple.”
“Mob rule, is it?”
Selene cocked his head. “How you mean?”
“I was run out of my clan as a young bull after ill feelings festered, the hens clucked, and the young bulls strutted. The clan leaders I’m certain, had no inclination to expel me, but they couldn’t appear unable to make a tough decision.”
“So they showed you the way out of the village, eh?”
“I didn’t give them the satisfaction.”
Morgan plunked a cast iron skillet onto the counter. He took a side of bacon out of the cold shelf and cut hunks off, layerin’ the pan. He set it on the stones extendin’ from the andiron. In seconds the aroma of cookin’ bacon filled the cabin.
Morgan poured a cup of tea to steep, heftin’ the kettle toward the man. Selene walked to his pack and retrieved a tin, and a shift of cheese cloth. I watched in numbed interest as the man wrapped a smidgen of coffee in the cloth, and poured steamin’ water over it to brew his own coffee.
My papa had always used a sieve to remove the grounds that had simmered in the water, and would sit removin’ bits off his tongue, as he sat savorin’ his brew.
“So what are yar intentions, wizard?” Morgan asked.
“Straight to it, eh?”
Morgan bent over and gave the pan of bacon a shake, and retrieved a second pan. He poured grease from the first into the second, which he stirred with cornmeal for a flapjack.
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in headin’ for the Wildes?” Selene asked.
“Not in this lifetime,” Morgan grumbled. “Done all the runnin’ I’m gonna do.”
My mind turned to the ogre hen, Louisa. She would be enough to keep any bull from fleein’ most any danger.
“What do you know of the lad’s abilities?”
“Ya gonna talk about me now like I’m not here?” I asked.
“No more than ya do, probably less, considerin’,” Morgan answered Selene, ignorin’ my complaint. Maybe I’d been a bit whiny.
“Would you accept me trying to find him a new master?”
Yep, they’re gonna discuss me as though I’m not here.
Morgan harrumphed, and pulled one of the two chairs around and sat. “That would be up to the lad.”
“Chances aren’t good.” Selene shook his head the tiniest bit. “But if he were protected by a well-placed wizard, he’d be safe.”
“So ya let them come after me. I can deal with that.”
“I didn’t say I’d given up on you.” Selene grabbed the cloth Morgan used against the heat of the fire, and gave the bacon pan a shake.
“What advice could ya give me in battlin’ three wizards?”
“Not to. Head for the Wildes and don’t look back.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“These three.” Selene hooked his thumb toward the door. “Aren’t the most talented wizards. I wouldn’t even say they’re of average intelligence. But I don’t look forward to facing their combined power alone.”
“If ya faced ’em with me, ya wouldn’t be alone.”
Selene stared straight through the ogre.
A smile hinted it wished to escape onto Morgan’s face. “Ya sayin’ without sayin’ that would be one and the same.”
“Don’t wish to insult you,” Selene said.
“No offense taken. But I’ve faced a clan of goblins. Those three don’t scare me.”
Goblins. The imagery that flit through my mind made me shudder.
Selene shook his head—again. He bent his neck to take in the entire height of the ogre, as though to help decide if Morgan’s physical stature made any difference. When he dropped his gaze, he wore an expression that looked less than optimistic.
“Perhaps ya should just head north with the lad then,” Morgan said, “and leave me to deal with yar three friends.”
“If you didn’t notice, they aren’t exactly my friends. And, taking Paul north doesn’t, necessarily, make him any safer than he is here.”
I considered remindin’ them I sat in front of them and listened to every word. Decided they were bein’ surprisin’ly candid and my interruption might affect that. Though from the beginnin’, they did an excellent job of ignorin’ me.
“Maybe they didn’t notice he had anythin’ to do with me,” Morgan suggested.
Selene smiled, but it wasn’t with humor. The two turned quiet. Morgan took one of the pans from the hearth, carefully wedged a spatula under the flapjack in it, flipped it, and returned the pan to the hot stones.
The man and ogre perched like hens watchin’ over the breakfast for another ten minutes without speakin’ further.
I took my breakfast out to the porch to eat, less to gather a bit of serenity, mostly because there was only room for two at the tiny table. Perhaps they would work thin’s out if I wasn’t around. But I didn’t hear any voices inside. A pair of crows landed in the pine needles of the clearin’ and lobbed a barrage of complaints at me, but I woke ravenous and wasn’t gonna share my bacon and jacks.
I downed my chunks of bacon first, and sat back savorin’ my grease-soaked slice of cornbread. When I finished lickin’ my fingers clean, I leaned the chair against the wall, and glared back at the crows. They were not impressed with me. But their antics entertained me, what with their hoppin’ about, flickin’ through the pine needles, and cockin’ their heads. I most enjoyed their beady-little, black eyes. Made them look majical. Though the sun wasn’t high enough to shine directly into the clearin’, the birds still glimmered iridescent.
Selene’s boot steps pulled me from my peaceful reverie.
“Let’s walk,” the man said, stridin’ off the porch.
We crossed the clearin’, past the well, and Selene strolled up the gully, along the creek which gurgled at our feet. The forest closed around us, and Selene had yet to speak. I squirmed, uncomfortable with the quiet.
“Yesterday Blake said somethin’ about two apprentices. What did he mean?” The tic snaked up my spine.
“Every man—” He grunted, a half-chuckle. “Every bull must experience his failures. I’m no different.”
I listened to the whisper of the pine needles fifty feet above. Didn’t appear Selene wished to tell his story. He’d been plenty open durin’ yesterday’s hike. Whatever his failures had been, they must have been doozies.
“I chose recently to run away,” I said. “It ’bout got me killed.”
“Hum,” Selene mumbled. “Worse when your mistakes get someone else killed.”
My throat felt dry, suddenly.
“I’m afraid I’m not a pragmatist,” Selene said.
“What’s that, a prag—praga—”
“Pragmatist. Deals with bein’ practical,” Selene said. “As in, it wasn’t practical for me to travel two hundred miles to try to save an ogre I’d never met.”
“I don’t follow ya.”
“A practical man endeavors for his own good will. I’ve taken in too many stray cats that will never do me any good. Their battles wake me at night, their feces soils the grounds, irritate the hounds, and gathers more cats to challenge them.”
If that was sposed to clear thin’s up, it didn’t. I scrunched up my face in confusion. “Blake hates ya because ya took in cats?”
Selene smiled. “No, lad.” He shook his head.
The man stopped and looked up the ravine, which grew steeper and rockier. He planted his palms on his hips, like a man restin’ from an hour of labor. I waited beside him, tryin’ to figure out what to do with my hands. Finally settled with foldin’ ’em into the pockets of my pants. I’m not used to pants with front pockets. But seen others stand like this.
“I’ve listened to Ike,” I said, “who’s the ogre clan leader, and Lucas, who’s the elected leader of the Hamlet, major I think it’s called.”
“Mayor.”
“Aye. They talk about the unendin’ politickin’ they face, keepin’ everyone happy, while doin’ what they feel is right for their clans. The pull left and right, every other direction, frustrates them to no end.”
Selene nodded. “You have a better understanding of the way of things than you’re aware.”
After a moment that stretched overly long, I lifted a foot to kick at a stone, only to jerk to a halt. Reminded myself I have nice footwear for the first time in my life. Sure can be hard just to stand still, and wait. Was Selene gonna continue up the ravine, or were we gonna stand here and chew the fat?
“Two separate endowed I took in, hoping to save them—” the man finally said. “I ended up simply teaching them how to be arrogant. Wisdom isn’t something you can teach. They weren’t good candidates for the power they were born with. They lacked the necessary character. A harsh assessment, but true. In my arrogance, I believed I could show them a better path.”
“Endowed? Could touch that ether—uh—”
He nodded. “You Southerners call it the Ethereal. Yes.”
“They did bad things?” I asked.
“They made poor choices.”
“Allman—”
“Ollimon had them smudged out of existence, like ants under a man’s thumb.”
I harrumphed. “Were ya close to them?”
“A teacher puts more than sweat into his efforts. A teacher who cares throws his soul into it. Not something you can do if you don’t care for your students.”
“Hum,” I grunted. Maybe to imply I followed him. Didn’t really, if I had to explain it back to him.
“I may not be a practical man,” Selene said after another long pause. “But I’m not ignorant. This pains me to say it, but I know of no way I can save the ogre. The humans of the Hamlet may accept ogres, but the council certainly won’t allow an endowed ogre among them.”
“They aren’t beasts—”
“You’re spitting into a gale,” Selene said.
“Huh?”
“Do you spit against the wind?” Selene asked.
“Of course not. Blow right—ah. No point in fightin’ nature, ya’re sayin’.”
“Aye.”
My mind maybe caught up with the man’s earlier statement, and my throat tightened. “I’ve not known Morgan long. Honestly, he may be the reason my papa up and left me and my sisters, and if that be true, I ought not owe him allegiance. But he seems a good sort. Means well. I can’t see abandonin’ him.”
Selene met my eyes for the first time since we stopped here. The coal-black centers seemed empty one moment, another they appeared to quiver as though he battled a private demon. They reminded me of the way Taiz’lin’s eyes whirl when he’s deep in thought.
“Will you accept,” Selene said softly, “that my priority will be in saving you?”
A pain, which I assumed is guilt, gripped my gut. “I guess— I may not be a practical sort either.”
~
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