Essence of Gluic

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

Asentar reached over and grabbed the reigns of his Faralope and began to lead Thorik and his friends out of the congested part of the city.

  As they paraded away, Avanda hid a few grapes just inside Brimmelle’s pack, curious to see if the Faralope could sniff them out. She then bit one in half and fed it to the Fesh’Unday beast to tempt its taste buds.

  Once they had left the main public market area, Thorik began to explain his thinking. “You see, going to Della Estovia will only allow Bakalor and Irluk the opportunity to capture us and even if we eluded them, they would know we are onto their game. We will have tipped our hand and allowed them to change plans if need be.”

  “Let go!” Brimmelle complained as he tried to shoo the Faralope’s snout away from the back of his neck.

  Avanda snickered at the sight of the slobbery mess the Fesh’Unday was leaving all over the Fir’s pack.

  Asentar tugged on the reigns of his Faralope to keep it from bothering the Nums. His mount had been following the knight but occasionally veered off to chew on Brimmelle’s pack. “What’s your suggestion?” the knight asked Thorik.

  “Would it not be better to let them play out their plot so we can be a step ahead of them?”

  “It would. But I fail to know enough information to carry this out. The information you have provided seems too general to establish a plan. Is there more that was said?”

  Thorik taxed his brain to recall everything he could from the terrible ordeal. “They talked about trying to take down the Lu’Tythis Tower.”

  Asentar shook his head. “Concerning, but I don’t know how that remote tower plays into launching a war.”

  Warm moist air blew across Thorik’s face as he continued to reenact the scene in his head. “Ergrauth has started moving his troops to the Guardians and then he’ll move them to River’s Edge.”

  “Already?”

  “Yes. Ergrauth has also awoken the Winds of Conquest.”

  Asentar slowly removed his gloves and folded them while in deep thought. His movements where now slow and methodically. “Then he has found them.”

  “The Winds of Conquest? Do we really need to fear wind?”

  “What? No. They aren’t really wind. They are lesser demons. Twins, in fact, with the birthright to rule the skies above the battle fields.”

  “Why have I not heard of these before?” Thorik asked.

  “They were captured a long time ago by a great hero, who magically burnt them down and placed their ashes in an urn. They were condemned to an eternity of sleep, never to be released or awoken. A spell was cast on the urn to prevent it from being opened. It was then hidden in order to prevent anyone from trying to revive them. It has long been said that they would be brought back to life in order to fight in the final war of Australis.”

  “So, they found the urn and have brought them back to life?”

  Brimmelle fell back as the Faralope grabbed the Fir’s backpack, again.

  This time Avanda burst out laughing as the Fesh’Unday ripped a chunk of fabric out of the pack, exposing the grapes.

  Asentar tugged hard on his Fesh’Unday’s reigns, freeing the Num and ignoring him at the same time. “Yes, they may have been revived, if what you heard was correct.”

  Thorik sighed at the lack of planning he was able to bring forth. “But this again changes nothing. We still need evidence to prove they are on their way.”

  “This changes everything,” Asentar announced. “They will rule the battlefield skies when they attack us. Our arrows and catapults will be useless. Our air attacks will be for naught. We will have to fight them hand to hand. And without the strength of the Ov’Unday we will be quickly overtaken.”

  “But…” Thorik quickly began to create an alternative plan. “What do you suspect happened to the urn after they were released? Would they keep it?”

  “What? The urn would be useless. It’s possible that they may save it as a reminder of their imprisonment, perhaps as a symbol of Ergrauth’s power to release them. Dels tend to be superstitious about those types of events. Why?”

  “If we were able to obtain the urn, would that not be valid proof that war is coming?”

  Asentar nodded in agreement. “You are correct, Sir Num. I must travel to the city of Ergrauth to retrieve this.”

  Thorik reached out and shook the knight’s hand. “I hope our paths pass again someday.”

  “If we don’t pass in life, the stories told of our triumphs will pass long after we are gone. For it is not how long you live, young Num, but what you have done to change the world in the time you were given.”

  Asentar mounted his Faralope, waved farewell, and rode off down the street.

  Thorik watched the Dovenar Knight ride around the corner as he wondered if they would truly ever meet again. “Grewen.” He then glanced up at his friend. “I’m assuming this is where we part paths as well. With Gluic gone, we must return home to Farbank.”

  Grewen smiled. “Nonsense, little man. I’ll at least accompany you to the safety of the King’s Valley before we part ways.”

  It warmed Thorik’s heart to know he was not on his own to make the long trek without him. However, his thoughts quickly changed as he spotted Bryus walking toward them on the very same street.

  Carrying a large pouch filled with items that bulged the fabric at its seams, Bryus was covered with mud up to his waist, and it appeared he hadn’t made any attempt to clean any of the clumps off. His sleeves from the elbow down were also coated with the brown soil. And yet the old man strolled down the street as though there was nothing out of the ordinary.

  Brimmelle’s face turned shades of red and his soul-markings darkened as he watched the Alchemist leave a trail of mud clumps down the street.

  Thorik half laughed at the spectacle. “What happened to you?”

  Bryus walked up to the group, handed Avanda his pouch, and then proceeded to shake his hands and sleeves clean of mud, as the Nums covered their faces from the thick flying brown specks. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

  “Maybe because you look like you’ve been rolling around in the fields for the past week.”

  Bryus stared at Brimmelle instead of Thorik when he answered. “Why would I do something that insane? Can you think of any reason, Brimmelle?”

  Thorik watched his uncle’s face continue to turn a brighter red. “Why is he asking you, Uncle?”

  “Yes.” Bryus scooped mud from his side and tossed it onto the street. “Why would I be asking you?”

  Brimmelle’s response was cold and emotionless. “I don’t know.”

  Bryus laughed at the response. “Hypocrite.”

  With tight lips, Brimmelle said nothing to his defense.

  That wasn’t going to stop Bryus. “What happened to your Rules of Order and sacred words to live by? Does that only apply when it’s convenient for you or works in your favor?”

  Avanda stepped forward and asked the obvious question, “What are you two talking about?”

  Seeing Brimmelle stiffen at her question, Bryus stepped up next to the elder Num. Reaching over behind his head; he placed his arm over Brimmelle’s shoulders before pulling him in tight against him. Mud slid down off of his sleeve onto Brimmelle’s back, neck and shoulders. “You see, Avanda, when people make promises to me while explaining how righteous they are, it annoys me. But when they go back on their promise and take it back away from me, then I get upset. And then when I notice them throwing it off a ramp into a muddy farm where it could take months to find, then I get outright vengeful.”

  Avanda looked at Fir Brimmelle for a response. “What did you do?”

  “Yes.” Bryus was over dramatic as he pulled him in tighter. “What did you do? Why don’t you explain it to everyone?”

  Mud dripped down Brimmelle’s neck, under his shirt and down his back. His clothes were stained with the brown mud as Bryus made sure to wipe his boots off on the Fir’s pants. “I made a promise which I realized I couldn’t keep.”

  Moving his mud
dy hand off Brimmelle’s shoulder, he placed it on top of the Num’s head and wove his filthy fingers through his hair. “Yes, that is what happened.”

  To the surprise of the others, Brimmelle allowed the Alchemist to cake mud in his hair, as the Num steamed from the disrespectful and embarrassing event.

  Brimmelle growled through his tight teeth and lips. “But the question is, did you find what you had lost?”

  “I found mud, you fool. Endless rows of wet mud.”

  Bryus stepped away from the Num in order to scoop up a clump of mud from his leg before preparing to press it into Brimmelle’s face.

  Grewen had watched the scene with great interest, but the humor of it all was about to turn violent. Reaching down, he blocked the smashing of mud into the Fir’s face. “Not here, boys. We will not bring violence into the home of Trewek.”

  “We’re not done with this,” Bryus snarled at Brimmelle, as he took his large pouch back from Avanda.

  “You are for now.” Grewen grinned. “Our stay here is at an end. We’ll pack our gear while you two clean up. As soon as you’re ready, we’ll head up the ramp and out of the city…” He paused and thought about it for a moment before continuing. “…after we eat one more meal.”

  Avanda laughed. “Always thinking with your stomach.”

  “Not always…Just when I’m awake,” His baritone chuckle echoed down the street, leading their party forward.

  Chapter 21

  Assassin