Essence of Gluic

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

“Hurry up, Avanda.” Thorik wished to be on their way to the elders’ meeting. After impatiently waiting days for the event, he certainly didn’t want to miss his opportunity to speak.

  They were already running late due to Avanda’s new interest in playing a local ball game. She had been playing the game for nearly a week and had become very good at it. As always, she became obsessed with the idea of becoming the best at it.

  A large circle of brown and white pins were near the perimeter of the field of play. Most of the white pins where still standing up, while only one brown one remained upright. Normally played as a defensive game, where each team member stood near their pin to protect it, Avanda had bewildered her opponents by playing a strong aggressive offensive strategy. Leaving her pin unprotected, she ran around the field knocking over her opponent’s pin with the ball. The one-on-one ball play worked to her advantage, as the rest of the players feared to venture away from their own pin, in spite of the fact it had already fallen.

  Keeping her eye on her next opponent, Avanda prepared for her next shot. “We’re almost done,” she shouted to Thorik. Then taking her final shot, she kicked it past a young Mognin and knocked over the pin behind him. “Yes!” she cheered with her hands in the air, followed by her team members quickly congratulating her.

  “I’m leaving without you. I’m not going to miss the entire meeting,” Thorik warned.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.” She finished up the last few congratulatory hugs with her new friends, and then ran over to Thorik. “Why the rush?”

  “The elders meeting has already started.”

  Keeping up with his pace, she skipped along carefree, ignoring his concerns. “So? You’re not scheduled to be the first to talk anyway.”

  “I’m curious as to who else brings warnings of war, and what they have to say about it.”

  “Why? This isn’t our war.”

  Thorik shrugged his shoulders. “It might very well become our war.”

  “Why would anyone want to fight Nums? What have we ever done to them?”

  “They don’t think that way. They want to rule everyone, regardless if we have issues with them or not.”

  Walking past a market, Avanda stopped for a moment to take in the sweet smell of the freshly baked bread. “We could always live here. We’re safe in Trewek.”

  “No one will be safe as long as Bakalor and Darkmere wish us harm.”

  Avanda turned from the bread and quickly caught up to him. “But if we leave them alone, they’ll leave us alone.”

  “I wish that was true.”

  “You don’t know that it isn’t.” Stepping up to a vegetable and fruit stand, she smiled and looked over the produce. The Ov’Unday tending the stand winked at her and handed her a small vine of grapes. She thanked him and ran over to Thorik.

  “There are others that wish to see us dead if we don’t follow their ways.”

  Pulling a grape from the stem, she popped it in her mouth and enjoyed the rich sweet taste. “Then we’ll just follow their ways.”

  Thorik stopped and looked at her. “How can you say that?”

  Plucking another grape, she held it out to Thorik. “These are fantastic. You should try one.”

  “Avanda, I’m serious. How can you say that you don’t care?”

  Realizing he didn’t want the grape, she ate it herself. “Easy. I didn’t follow Fir Brimmelle’s rules most of the time and nothing ever came of it. What do I care what rules others put in place?”

  Thorik grabbed the grapes from her. “What if I said that you could no longer have grapes?”

  “That would be mean. Why would you do that?”

  “I’m not. Our new rules may say you can’t have them.”

  “That’s just silly.” She quickly reached out for her grapes.

  Thorik pulled them back. “No, you are no longer authorized to have them. Now what are you going to do?”

  Trying to grab them again, she missed as he moved them away. “I’m going to take them anyway.”

  “Such acts under our new leadership could cost you your freedom or your life.”

  Avanda grabbed his arm in an effort to pull the grapes toward her. “Stop it, Thorik. I’m hungry.”

  “The new rulers don’t care. You have one purpose, and that is to serve them.”

  Avanda let go of him and crossed her own arms. “I don’t serve anyone.” Her lips tightened and a hint of a scowl appeared.

  “You will have to if we don’t all stand up and help fight this threat of our freedom.”

  Avanda stood silent as she gave Thorik an evil eye. The grapes were now high above his head so she couldn’t grab them. “Enough with the lesson. I’d like my grapes now,” she said sternly.

  Thorik smiled. “See, it doesn’t feel good to have others in control of you.”

  Avanda felt he was pushing the point too far. Stepping out, she quickly stomped on his foot, causing him to drop the grapes, which she caught in mid-air. Popping a grape from the vine, she crushed it in her mouth. “I’m guessing that you would know how that feels better than I do.” A sly smile faded onto her face.

  After a few hops from the sore foot, Thorik laughed. He only wished that he were half as self-assured as she was. “Okay, you have your grapes, this time. Let’s hope that I can always be allowed to give them to you. Now we must hurry on to the meeting.”

  “After you.” She nodded with a silly smile, showing him grape juice between her teeth.

  A few minutes later Thorik and Avanda reached the tall tower where the elders were meeting. A crowd of Ov’Unday stood outside in the foyer discussing the various issues that had been slowly leaking out of the meeting chamber.

  Grewen and Brimmelle were waiting for Thorik to arrive so they could all walk in together. Grewen calmly chatted with several Ov’Unday as Brimmelle impatiently leaned against a far wall wondering what was taking the young Nums so long.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Thorik said to Brimmelle.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me if you end up being late for your own funeral.” Brimmelle moved from the wall and walked with them up toward the main door where Grewen stood.

  “I don’t understand why you even decided to attend this with us, Uncle. You have no interest in Ov’Unday affairs.”

  “True, but I do have an interest in my own. And you tend to say things that get us involved in events that we shouldn’t be in. So, I’m here to remind you to keep your words to a minimum. Say what you need to and then let us be on our way.”

  Rolling his eyes in protest, Thorik shrugged his shoulders innocently. “That’s all I plan to do, dear Uncle. I have no plans to get involved.”

  “Just like all you planned to do was help lead Ambrosius from Farbank to Kingsfoot. That ended up with us here, on the far side of Australis, with two dead Nums and a bounty on your head for escaping the Southwind mining prisons.”

  “Understood. I’ve learned my lesson,” he said as they approached Grewen at the tower’s entrance.

  Just outside of the building’s main doors was a Faralope with reins and a saddle strapped onto its back. Only humans rode the two-legged Faralopes, so this was an odd sight in the Ov’Unday city. It was then that they entered the building to address the elders.

  The main hall was filled with various species of Ov’Unday disagreeing with one another in a low and civil temperament. In the center of them, stood a tall human with blue robes and a Dovenar crest on his chest plate.

  Thorik was amazed at the strength in the man’s voice. The speaker didn’t require it to be loud or aggressive to be commanding. Inching his way through the crowd, the Num finally poked through and realized who the man was. Thorik had seen him before, once in the coliseum in Woodlen and another in Southwind’s city of Rava’Kor, and then again in the O’Sid fields when Thorik and his party were captured by the Eastlanders.

  “Truth be known, Asentar, high knight of the Dovenar Kingdom.” The leader of the Ov’Unday elders spoke loudly, attempting
to clear the air of side conversation so they could focus. This specific Ov happened to be a Gathler, which resembled a giant hunched-over sloth in his form and slow movements. “Have you walked in here as a self-appointed liaison to your kingdom? Am I to understand that you don’t even have approval from all of the kingdom’s provinces to speak on their behalf?”

  Asentar’s rugged facial features didn’t flinch at the obviously devastating words of truth. “That is correct. But I do speak on the behalf of the kingdom’s people.”

  “And for these people, you are asking for our assistance to fight against an aggressor who has caused us no harm, nor threats of harm?”

  “I’m asking for your support to unify our land. We are fractured and easy prey for those who wish to see us fall. And make no mistake; our aggressor is cunning as he only makes enemies with a few of us at a time to reduce his battle fronts.”

  One of the elder Mognins entered the conversation. “But to support your efforts, we would have to go against our very beliefs. We shall not shame the teachings of Trewek, especially here in his namesake city.”

  “I am not asking you to give up your culture, only to be willing to fight for the freedom to continue to have it.”

  The Mognin shook his head. “We will not fight.”

  “Then you will be killed or enslaved. Your civilization will be washed from this land and your enlightened ways will be forever lost.”

  “You cannot possibly foresee this,” the Mognin replied. “You only speculate based on your fears.”

  “The Grand Council members have been murdered, the provinces within the Dovenar Kingdom have been taken over by local leaders, and communications with the Del’Unday have all but ended. We are now broken as a civilization.” Asentar’s voice was firm and powerful. His conviction was relentless.

  The Grand Council had been the one hope for all species to work in peace. The notice of its destruction was grave news to the Ov’Undays. Their sense of safety within the city of Trewek suddenly was in question.

  Allowing the elders time to absorb the severity of the situation outside of their enormous sinkhole, Asentar continued. “Tremors of war have been heard from the east side of the Guardians, Darkmere rallies the Corrockians, and the Terra King breeds hate into the hearts of mankind. We are on the verge of the fight for our lives whether you care to participate in it or not.”

  “No, you have it wrong.” Thorik had been so caught up into the moment that he had spoken up before even realizing it.

  In spite of Avanda’s smile at Thorik’s outburst, Brimmelle shot Thorik an angry look for speaking up out of turn.

  Thorik held up a soft hand and nodded at his uncle to assure him that he would not go any further than needed, but his self-confidence wavered once he looked away from his uncle and to the faces in the room.

  All eyes had moved to the Num, who now stood in the front of the crowd. It was enough to make Thorik feel unnerved, but it was the reaction of Asentar glaring down at him that made his knees weak.

  “Truth is in question. Step forward, and speak your name,” commanded the head elder.

  Thorik stepped cautiously forward as he waited for Asentar’s approval as well. The Dovenar Knight was intimidating due to his size as a man, but more so because of the self-confidence that emanated from him.

  Asentar nodded to the Num, giving him the floor to speak.

  “Thorik Dain of Farbank.”

  The Gathler elder leaned forward. “Greetings Thorik Dain of Farbank. May truth be your ally. Do you have knowledge to discredit what we have heard here today?”

  “Yes. I mean no.”

  “Well, which is it?”

  “Asentar is correct about Darkmere and the Terra King. But what hasn’t been told is that they are both the same person.”

  A moment of confusion rolled across the crowd and elders before the Num continued.

  “Darkmere has been preparing the Del’Unday army to attack the Dovenar Kingdom, which will be very easy seeing that he is also swaying the Kingdom’s tactics from within the Dovenar walls disguised as the Terra King.”

  “How do you know this?” Asentar asked.

  “We traveled with Ambrosius after the destruction of the Grand Council.”

  “Impossible. All council members were killed.”

  “Not all. Ambrosius survived, barely. I nursed him back to health. Then we traveled to Woodlen where we met the Terra King. He escaped, but we caught back up with him later and prevented the Terra King from destroying the entire Dovenar Kingdom.”

  “If this is true, then why have we not seen Ambrosius?”

  “Because he sacrificed his life to save the kingdom. I was there.”

  The Gathler voice came across sad when he spoke. “Truth be heard, he is truly dead.”

  “Well…” Thorik was uncertain how to reply. “Maybe not.”

  Brimmelle dropped his forehead into his palm as he hid his view from the embarrassment.

  “Thorik Dain of Farbank, do you enjoy confusing the situation?” the Gathler asked.

  “No sir, just the opposite. I prefer things to be nice and orderly, but I’m finding out that real life isn’t fitting into this mold.”

  “Then spit it out and tell us why you now question his death,” Asentar said.

  “I overheard Irluk saying that he still lives.”

  “The Death Witch?”

  “Yes.”

  Another elder spoke up with a condescending tone. “Do you have conversations with Irluk often?”

  Several in the crowd snickered until the Gathler elder raised a hand to silence them.

  “No sir. In fact, I’ve never talked to her,” he replied to defend himself. “She was talking to Bakalor.”

  After a fraction of a second of quiet, a roar of laughter quickly erupted from the crowd. Grunts and snorts and the sounds of hooves hitting the stone floor monopolized the hall.

  By this time, Thorik was feeling very sheepish. However, he noticed that Asentar hadn’t changed his demeanor toward him. The man stood respectfully by as he waited for him to continue.

  “I hope you can support these claims.” Asentar spoke softly to the Num before the elders began the discussion again.

  The elder Mognin stood up tall and clapped his enormous hands together to silence the crowd and regain control. The impressively loud single clap did its job and the gathering quickly came to a hush. The Mognin remained standing as he gazed down at the little Num. “You, Thorik Dain of Farbank, have had acquaintances with Bakalor?”

  “You might say that, sir.”

  The elders cautioned the crowd to control their noises based on his answer before continuing.

  “Little Num, do you know where Bakalor resides?”

  “Yes, Della Estovia.”

  “That is correct. So, you obviously couldn’t have met him unless you traveled into the underworld.”

  “I know. That’s where he had his conversation with Irluk.”

  “Honestly, do you expect us to believe that you have traveled to the underworld and back without getting caught by Bakalor?”

  “No. We were caught.” Thorik was getting tired of this line of questioning. “And I overheard them saying that Ambrosius was alive. They’re also working with Darkmere to cause hostilities among our people. They plan to have Ergrauth’s army attack our weak defenses. And most important, Bakalor, himself, plans to return to the surface.”

  Thorik had everyone hanging on his every word until the final one.

  Asentar shook his head. “Bakalor can’t return to the surface, even if all creatures would perish in such a war. He simply can’t survive in the sunlight.”

  “Apparently he doesn’t believe that to be true. Irluk and Bakalor are playing us like pieces on a game, and we’re going along with it. So, the question is, do we allow them to continue or do we take control of our own movements?”

  The hall fell quiet as the crowd waited for the elders to ponder the Num’s concerns.

&
nbsp; Asentar watched Thorik as the Num stood firm to his words. Smirking slightly from one side of his face, the Dovenar Knight patted the Num on the back and winked at him. Regardless if he had convinced them or not, Thorik hadn’t backed down.

  One of the Mognin elders finally spoke out to Thorik. “Proof! Evidence is needed. This is superficial conjecture. We don’t know that any of this is true.”

  Thorik sighed. There was no way to validate his story.

  Asentar realized that the elders had finally opened up to discussing the idea of taking a stance, if he and the Num could provide something more. “So, if proof could be obtained, you would consider joining with us?”

  The elders looked back and forth at each other before the Gathler replied. “Truth be said.”

  Asentar was pleased with their answer. He knew the odds of having the Ov’Unday on the side of the Kingdom was slim, but the likelihood had just increased. “Excellent. Then we shall return with proof.”

  “We?” Thorik and Brimmelle both said, confused about the knight’s statement.

  “Thank you for honoring my request to speak with you today.” Asentar then bowed to the elders. “I can only hope that I am wrong about the pending war, but it is a good sign that you are willing to discuss the option if I should unfortunately be correct.”

  “Willingness to discuss this topic does not ensure our support in your efforts,” the Gathler said.

  “Understood, high elder. We will bring evidence back to substantiate our story or put an end to it once and for all. Is this acceptable?”

  “Truth be heard, truth be said.”

  Nodding his head one last time in courtesy, Asentar turned from the elders and guided Thorik out of the main hall and into a busy foyer. Once there, he stopped and sighed as he peered down at the Num. “You had better be right on this. I’m taking a risk that your story holds water.”

  Brimmelle was stuck next to Avanda and Grewen in the crowd. It would take them a few minutes to fight their way through the crowd and follow Asentar and Thorik. “He better set that man straight!” Brimmelle complained.

  “He’ll do just fine,” Avanda replied as they began to follow Grewen out of the meeting room.

  Meanwhile, Thorik pulled on his pack’s straps to straighten it up. “Why would you rest your success on me?”

  “Because…” The knight struggled to admit the truth behind his reasoning as he pulled him farther from the room. “Because I have no other options at play here. I need the Ov’Unday to join with us before it’s too late. You are the first one I’ve met that has overheard the planning of this new war. Seeing that I need evidence to convince the elders, you will help me obtain it.”

  “But I have no evidence. I only overheard parts of their plan. I am of no help to you.”

  “You were in Della Estovia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then take me there so we can acquire the proof we need.”

  “I won’t be going back to such a place! Why would I do such a thing to help you?”

  “Are you not the same Num who I held at bay in Southwind along with the Blothrud, Santorray?”

  Thorik wasn’t pleased that the knight recalled his face on that night in Rava’Kor. “Yes.”

  “You travel with dangerous companions.”

  Chuckling lightly at the observation, Thorik straightened out his pack again as he watched his companions arrive. “You have no idea.”

  “The two of you were arrested and placed in the prison mines, only to later escape.”

  “Again, you are correct. Are you wishing to arrest me?”

  Brimmelle was shocked at the discussion he came upon. “Don’t let him intimidate you,” he said to Thorik, who ignored his uncle’s comments.

  “Perhaps, if I have to. But more importantly I will tell you that your life is most likely in danger. The Matriarch controls the province of Southwind, and she does not take kindly to prisoners escaping, and even less kindly to you killing her men she sent out to retrieve you.”

  Thorik shot a look at Avanda. “Lucian?”

  Avanda recoiled from just hearing his name, recalling the man who had killed her pet and attempted to rape her.

  “Yes, Lucian was taken back to the Matriarch. I know not of his fate although if he still lives it is a meager existence for survival. His return without Santorray and yourself most likely caused heated emotions. I’m sure the Matriarch has sent out a platoon of her best men to capture you, or even worse.”

  Thorik’s pale skin faded to an even lighter shade as he realized his past was catching up to him. “Worse?”

  “Yes, she may have hired assassins to eliminate you.”

  “So, if I take you to Della Estovia you’ll protect me from the assassins. If I don’t, you’ll turn me in?”

  “Thorik, this is not about me, or you. This is about saving an entire kingdom. We need to find some evidence to back up our claim that war is coming.”

  “I cannot lead you to Della Estovia.” The Num glanced over at his uncle. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. We were lost when we were captured by Bakalor, and I have no idea how we escaped.”

  Asentar crossed his arms and scowled at the young Num, uncertain of Thorik’s integrity. He had based his case on the Nums story which was starting to lead to dead ends.

  Thorik cocked his head to one side as an idea came to him. “However, there might be another way we can gather what you need without traveling there.”

  “And how is that?”

  Thorik glanced about at the crowd of Ov’Unday walking past them. It made him uncomfortable continuing the discussion with so many ears around. “Let’s take our leave of this place before we discuss it.”

  Chapter 20

  Asentar’s Mission