Distant howls called to the thunderstorms and raging winds that hung tight along the northern mountain peaks, but the desert campsite was now still, all except for Brimmelle who tossed and turned on the hard sand. The sleeping venue was bad enough, but what kept him awake was his mother’s death and the disrespectful way of remembering her.
Thorik’s obsession with the dagger, Varacon, was outrageous in Fir Brimmelle’s mind. How could Thorik believe such fantasy? Especially about his own grandmother. Why couldn’t the young man just accept her death? He had. Then again, Brimmelle still blamed Thorik for her death, perhaps that’s why the younger Num wasn’t willing to accept her being gone. Thorik couldn’t face the truth of his own doing.
Brimmelle finally sat up and looked around at everyone sleeping around the campfire. Thorik & Avanda slept quietly, unlike Bryus who talked in his sleep. Grewen had fallen asleep while eating, as a handful of weeds still hung out of his mouth. All were oblivious to Brimmelle’s insomnia.
“Thorik must accept the fact that she is gone.” He spoke softly to himself as he spotted a set of small rocks placed in a swirling pattern near his feet. Assuming his nephew had placed them there to honor Gluic, he quickly disrupted the pleasant design. “Once he accepts this, we can return to Farbank.”
Brimmelle sat and thought long and hard about his mother’s death and what the right thing was to do about the situation. His conclusion always ended in returning home to let the villagers know of her plight. It never led down a path of telling his people that she had been turned into a weapon.
What disgrace he would feel to tell other Nums that his mother was a blade, which could be used for carving up dinner. Gluic was a Num with a soul, not a kitchen utensil. People would think he was out of his mind if he would introduce them to his mother, the knife. He might as well tell them his father is a shovel and his grandfather was the doorknob. Where would this line of thinking end?
Brimmelle shook his head at the thought. “Unacceptable.”
But what was he to do? “Thorik wouldn’t give up on his quest to save her, unless…” Smirking ever so slightly he began to construct a plan to resolve the issue before him. “It’s for his own good,” he whispered, justifying his own thoughts. “Yes, this is best for everyone.”
With that, he tossed off the blanket and quietly walked over toward Thorik, stopping short near his gear. Reaching down, Brimmelle kneeled for balance as he slowly opened his nephew’s backpack. Untying the top, he reached in and pulled out Thorik’s coffer. Disappointed at the sight of the wooden box of worthless notes, he set it aside to reach back in for the dagger.
It wasn’t long before he felt the cloths wrapped around spiraling blades. Ensuring Thorik was still asleep, he pulled out Varacon and unwrapped it to validate he had obtained what he came for, and he had. Setting it aside, he stuffed the rest of Thorik’s items back into his pack.
Lifting the dagger from the desert floor, he stood up and walked out of camp to find a place to hide it. He distanced himself from the camp, wanting to make sure that Thorik didn’t find it while searching the area. So, he walked for a few minutes before stopping at the cliff which overlooked a great void. During the day he would have seen the great Volney Lake valley, but the cloudy night made it difficult to even see the cliff’s edge. This actually worked in his advantage; for the light would have allowed him to see how high he was, causing him to shudder with fear.
“He’ll miss it at first, but then he’ll come to accept that it is gone. We will then head home.” Standing at the ledge, he raised the dagger over his head to toss it straight out into the blackness.
“It’s about time.” Bryus’ voice resonated from the darkness before him.
The voice surprised Brimmelle. Losing his balance, he slipped and fell, causing his legs to swing out over the ledge.
Bryus walked out from the darkness as though he was walking on an invisible glass which extended from the ledge. Calmly approaching, he watched Brimmelle kick and twist to pull himself back up onto the desert floor. “You obviously don’t want Thorik to have Varacon, and I obviously want it. So, I suggest you give it to me and I’ll forget that I saw you stealing it from him.”
Brimmelle couldn’t understand how the man was walking on air, but his immediate attention had to be on climbing back up on the ledge. “Don’t you come threatening me. I’m his Fir. I’ll just tell him you stole it.”
Bryus’ cheek twitched as he thought about the Num’s argument. “You are probably correct. So, to prevent that from happening, it would make sense to take Varacon from you and then allow you to fall to your death.”
“What?” Brimmelle began to panic in his climb back up. Slipping in his haste, he dropped the dagger in front of him and caught himself at his armpits. He now hung onto the ledge with his arms straight out and his fingers grasping onto rocks.
Bryus walked directly over him and placed the bottom of his boot on top of the Fir’s head, pushing him down off the cliff. “Thank you for warning me of your planned actions.”
“If I go, I’m taking the dagger with me.” Brimmelle quickly slid one of his hands over to grab it. But in doing so, he lost his grip of the ledge and began to slide off the top of the cliff.
Bryus stomped his boot forward onto the Num’s free hand, which was scratching the desert floor as Brimmelle began to fall to his death. His boot, however, held Brimmelle’s hand firmly onto the ground. “We can’t have that now. I really must have Varacon.”
Hanging from the one hand under Bryus’ boot, Brimmelle held the other hand out with the dagger in display. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“Excellent! You’re in such a good position to do so.”
Brimmelle’s hand was in terrible pain from being crushed, even though he knew he had to ignore it. “Help me back up to the surface…and then safely to camp, and I’ll give you Varacon. I won’t tell Thorik anything about the dagger. I haven’t seen it. And to be honest, I don’t ever want to see it again.”
“Deal.” Bryus removed his foot, allowing Brimmelle to fall.
The scream and fall was short, as the Num fell to an outcropping of rocks just below his previously dangling feet. Falling flat and then taking in a deep breath, Brimmelle watched the Alchemist walk down steps that didn’t exist. Once he arrived on the outcropping, he reached out his hand for the dagger, which was grudgingly given to him.
Brimmelle rolled to his knees and began to stand up. “I don’t understand. Why do you want it?”
“It’s old magic. There is so little of it left.”
“Old magic?”
Bryus inspected the dagger closely with his eyes and fingertips. “Yes, this is history. It is more valuable than any of us. We are but a blink of an eye. This, my little Num, is a true legend that is timeless. It will exist long after we are gone.”
Chapter 14
Search for Gluic
Essence of Gluic Page 16
