Essence of Gluic

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

Another night had settled in on the land and the campfires were in full blaze as Brimmelle made a makeshift fishing rod to catch some of the Cucurrian River’s fine selection. The river, as well as the forest they had just entered, was full of life. It had been a long time since Brimmelle had fished, but it kept him busy and helped him avoid Thorik’s gaze. The two Nums hadn’t spoken in several weeks.

  Northeastern Lakewood Forest was much like the southwest part of the forest, but far less spoiled. Few traveled here and the Fesh’Unday population had grown heavy. Deer, wild boars, wolves, and grazers had not yet learned to fear travelers. In many ways it felt more at peace to Thorik than his home village of Farbank.

  After prepping the camp for the night, Thorik sat near the riverbank, upstream from his uncle, as he watched his unique extended family. Grewen was busy eating an endless supply of plants, while Santorray ensured there was enough firewood for the night before scouting the perimeter for danger as well as food.

  Avanda was busy at Bryus’ secondary campfire rubbing various items together and speaking in odd tongues to evoke spells. Some changed wood into water, while others sent pulsating lights into the air and around the camp. Other spells allowed her to communicate with ground squirrels and other rodents.

  Thorik listened as Bryus complained about his wooden arm still not allowing him to do spells correctly, making it difficult to show her the desired results. Avanda, on the other hand, was so mesmerized by the effects she was achieving, she didn’t really care. Her only issue was the length of time it took to plan and contrive a spell. She constantly wanted to take short cuts to speed up the process. However, when she did, something inevitably went askew.

  “Not so fast,” Bryus shouted at Avanda. “Instead of this spell allowing us to stay awake without need for sleep, it could just as easily put us fast asleep if done wrong.”

  But it was too late, for she had rushed the mixing of components. The spell instantly knocked them both out cold and they fell softly to the ground.

  Thorik’s instincts were to rush over, but he had overheard Bryus’ comments and thought it was most likely best that they received a good night’s sleep. Traveling in the forest would be more difficult than out in the grasslands. They would need their strength.

  Breathing in the fresh moist air of the forest, Thorik could almost smell his distant village of Farbank. The sounds of the river lapping along the shores and wind rustling through the trees were all pleasant and familiar.

  The one element that corrupted his cheery memories was the sight of Brimmelle, as he sat facing away from camp, fishing by himself. It hurt Thorik to even look at his uncle after his plot to steal Gluic from him. It tore at his heart each time he thought about it.

  The two Nums hadn’t spoken since that fight and Thorik didn’t know how to repair it, or even if he wanted to. Dropping his head down as he thought about the dilemma, he noticed several dozen small river rocks placed in a spiral pattern near his feet.

  The sight inspired Thorik to pull out the Runestone of Courage. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the Runestone until he felt a presence near him. Opening one eye at a time, he was pleased to see a ghostly spirit sitting next to him.

  “Granna?” His voice was soft and gentle.

  “Isn’t it pleasant here?” she said instead of a greeting.

  “Yes, it is. It reminds me of our home.”

  “And where would that be, dear?”

  Taken slightly back by the question, Thorik answered. “Farbank.”

  “Oh, I see. You still see that as your home.”

  “Well, of course I do. Shouldn’t I?”

  “If it grounds you, dear. But the entire world is your home.” Motioning toward Grewen with his feet up against the roaring fire, she continued. “Home is wherever you feel comfortable. Sometimes it may or may not be where you grew up.”

  “My cottage in Farbank always made me feel comfortable.”

  “That’s nice.” She gave an agreeable smile. “Doesn’t this place make you feel content as well?”

  Thorik glanced around and nodded. “It’s very nice, but I think I would get lonely out here.”

  “I see. So your home is based on being near friends and family.”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  Gluic glanced over at her son, Brimmelle. “Do you understand that my son is part of your family?”

  “No, not anymore.” Thorik was clearly being defiant. “He has betrayed us both. You wouldn’t be here right now if he had had his way.”

  Gluic smiled. “True, but he has saved your life more than once.”

  “And I his. My debt is paid as well as any debt you had to him.”

  Gluic laughed. “If mothers began a tally of all the debts their children and the grandchildren owed them, they would run shy of paper to keep track.”

  “But, he tried to prevent me from saving you.”

  “Thorik, dear.” Kindness filled her voice. “This is not always about your journey to grow, but it is also about his as well. Have you not seen the changes in him? He is learning from you every day you’re together.”

  “Learning from me?”

  “Is it so odd for someone with more years about them to learn from someone with less? To be honest, you were born older than he will ever achieve in this lifetime. But you are helping him reach what’s needed so he can move onto his next life.”

  Thorik was visibly confused at what she was saying.

  Gluic leaned over and moved a few of the small river rocks that Thorik had accidentally kicked. “Be patient with him. He will make you proud in the end.”

  “But he’s so difficult. I can’t change him.”

  “You can’t blame a hog for being a hog, and you can’t change the hog from being a hog, but you can teach a hog to come when it’s time to eat.” She followed her statement with a giggle.

  “But how can I think to teach him anything, when I don’t even have my soul-markings yet. Children half my age have theirs, and Avanda’s continues to grow like a weed. Fir Brimmelle’s markings are so solid and thick, surely his soul is much stronger and mature than mine.”

  “Oh, I see. Your lack of soul-markings are holding you back from being the person you want to be?”

  “Yes. No. Well, in a way. I just don’t feel that others see me as they should.”

  A soft warm smile grew on Gluic’s face. “It’s not your skin that holds you back. Only your mind can prevent you from achieving greatness.”

  Reluctantly nodding in agreement, he still felt bad about not having soul-markings like all other Nums did. “I know, Granna, but when will I get them?”

  “When you don’t need them anymore, and only after you become the person you want to be by having them.” Gluic began fading away.

  “Wait, when can I call upon you again?”

  “When you are in a room surrounded by death and life as you wait your turn for both.”

  “Granna?” Thorik looked to see where she went. Asking a few more times, he realized that she had said what she wanted to for now.

  Toiling on her words, Thorik eventually stood up, slowly walked over, and sat next to Brimmelle along the shoreline. “Anything biting?”

  Brimmelle made a quick glance to his nephew before looking away. “No.”

  And so they sat for nearly an hour with one and two word questions and answers. Their subjects for discussion were unemotional and unrelating to the events around Gluic or the dagger. No issues were resolved and yet the stress and friction between them had begun to clear away.

  The camp remained still, aside from the two campfires and Bryus’ snoring, until Santorray walked back into camp from his hunt for dinner. He had a dead wild boar over his shoulder, which he had caught with his hands and broken its neck. He had returned to skin it and feed the travelers.

  Walking past the smaller of the two campfires, he kicked Bryus’ wooden arm away from the flames. “Wake up. Your arm’s on fire,” he growled, as he continued on towa
rd the main campfire.

  Bryus woke from the abrupt kick and quickly noticed the end of his wooden arm was fully ablaze. He had swung it into the campfire during his spell-enhanced slumber. Jumping up from the campfire, he attempted to put it out, but his own spells continued to fail him.

  Hearing the commotion, Avanda woke to view the excitement as Bryus ran around in a state of panic. Thinking quickly, she got behind him and began pushing him toward the river to extinguish his flaming arm. The two raced to the shoreline, where Avanda stopped and gave one last shove to the Alchemist.

  Thorik and Brimmelle turned in time to watch Bryus fly through the air with a flaming arm and then splash recklessly into the water.

  “Done fishing?” Thorik asked in an even tone.

  Brimmelle nodded. “I am now.”

  Chapter 32

  Bakalor’s Next Move