Fate of Thorik

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

Jolted from his sleep in the middle of the night, Thorik woke to the sound of Ambrosius screaming in pain. He was awake and was violent in his attempts to escape the restraints which kept him in bed.

  Throwing off his blanket, Thorik quickly stood up to see what the man was yelling about. To his surprise, Gluic was kneeling at Ambrosius’ side as she tried to calm him down. Her hooded cloak was still on and the front door had not yet been shut. She had just arrived and had left a trail of flowers from her broken necklace through the doorway.

  She looked over at Thorik. “Close the door and grab your Runestones,” she called out over Ambrosius’ screams. “The special stones your parents gave you.”

  This was not the first time Thorik had witnessed Gluic arrive at just the right moment when someone was in need. In some ways the locals came to expect it. She had the foresight ability to know when help was needed.

  Shutting the front door and grabbing his sack of ancient flat hexagonal Runestones, he met Gluic back at the side of the bed. By this point, her cloak was off as she finished checking the straps on Ambrosius’ arms and legs to keep him from flailing around and hurting someone.

  Ambrosius’ entire body exploded with sensations that nearly made him pass out. Instead, he arched his neck, opened his mouth, and let out a murderous cry for help. He grabbed onto the sides of the bed in an involuntary response to his dilemma. His back arched and he gasped for breath as though he had just surfaced from the water after a long dive.

  “Shhhh, it will be all right.” Gluic spoke in a warm voice as Ambrosius was trying to deal with the pain. “You need to slow down and relax before you pass out again. We thought we had lost you last time.”

  “Last time?” Ambrosius questioned as he gritted his teeth together. It took a great deal of focus to get out each word. “How many times have I gone through this torture?”

  “It’s okay, son. Just let the pain flow out of your system. Focus with me.” Gluic placed several gems into key positions on his head and body. In addition, she set Thorik’s Health Runestone on his forehead. She then placed her hands around the top of his head with her thumbs touching each other between his eyebrows. “Listen to me, we haven’t much time. I want you to focus on my hands. We are going to pull the pain out of your body.” Her hands began to move down his head past his eyes and nose. “Help me pull it out! I can’t do this alone. You have to be here with me.” The warmth in her voice was still there but now much sterner.

  The flat hexagon Runestone on his forehead had several small gems embedded as well as a crystal in the center that was now pulsing with energy, which Ambrosius could feel as heat and hear as a slow wave-like humming sound.

  Listening to her words he fought the enormous pain and did as she instructed. Impatiently, he waited for the next instruction. Focusing on her voice had reduced his pounding headache and allowed him to hear more clearly. But the pain was so strong. It was everywhere. He hurt with such overcoming agony and his fingers burned from an internal flame. “What happened to my hands?” Attempting to pull his hand up high enough to see the problem, he found that he was restricted from doing so.

  Gluic pressed upon him for his attention. “Reach with your mind and push the pain out as I pull it out.” Her hands worked their way down his neck and then separated as each hand grabbed a separate shoulder. She had noticed that he was slipping again into his own private battle. “Focus! On my hands! Nothing else! There is only one thing important to you right now and that is my hands.”

  Her hands stayed firm on his shoulders for a period until she felt he was focused again before continuing. “My hands and your mind are going to focus on your right arm and then down past your fingers. We will not stop at your hand to make sure it is well otherwise the rancid energy will stop and fester within it.” With both hands on his right shoulder she pulled the energy down his arm. “Focus on pushing it out of your wrist, your palm, through your fingertips and then out past them.”

  He did as he was told, but then paused for a moment to move his fingers to make sure they were still functional.

  “No!” She screamed, tightly squeezing her hands around his wrist she began moving her grip toward his fingers which were now starting to turn dark red and becoming increasingly painful to Ambrosius. “Ignore what you feel, and focus on me.”

  It wasn’t working, the pain was drawing his attention to it and his fingers were thinning and turning black. Multiple heat blisters were expanding and bursting on his palms and fingers. Dark blood oozed out of them.

  If Ambrosius could imagine what it felt like to have taken all of his pain and condensed it to one spot, it still wouldn’t have been this bad. He screamed as though his hand was dipped in lava. His heart began to pound out of control and his breathing was again erratic. Tossing back and forth, he knocked the gems off his body.

  “I can’t stop it,” she shouted over his screams of pain. “I’m going to have to cut off his arm to prevent the dark energies from going back into his body. I need to get his metal armband out of the way so I can start to cut. Give me a saw, I don’t care what kind it is,” she yelled at Thorik as Ambrosius felt her grab his armband on his forearm. Pulling it down for the amputation, she quickly removed the leather arm restraint in order to pull the metal band off.

  Instinctively, Ambrosius attempted to use his weakened E’rudite powers to keep the armband up in order to prevent the butchering from happening. He focused on the band with all his might as it continued to slide down. Regardless of his attempts to pull it back up with his mind, she pulled it past his wrist and palm.

  Finally, the metal band flew off the end of his arm and across the room. Several loud noises instantly erupted with a combination of shattering glass and items falling off shelves. The negative energy had followed the armband and had shot out of Ambrosius’ fingers, crushing the shelving on the far wall and tipping over a lantern. A small fire had started and Thorik ran over to stifle the flames.

  “Well done, dear. Now let’s get the rest of it out of your body.” Her tone had returned to her casual ways. His hand was now fine, except for a few remaining blisters. Her deception to get him to focus on her actions, instead of his pain, had worked successfully. She winked at Thorik for helping with the ruse, although he had no idea it was one at the time.

  Once completed with his other arm, Gluic started in the center of his chest and went down to his stomach before separating at his legs, all along talking him through every step. She finished with the feet in the same manner as the hands but this time without any issues. It was over and all his straps had been removed. His pain had been washed away and he could relax.

  In a warm motherly way she brushed his hair out of his face. “Now Wyrlyn, you lie there and get some rest. You’ve been through a lot and I have so much to tell you.”

  “His name is Ambrosius,” Thorik corrected her respectfully. “He told me after your last extraction session.”

  Smiling, she traced his jaw with a gentle touch. “If that’s what he wants to be called, I’ll play along.” She then collected her gems and cloak before handing Thorik his Runestone of Health. “Keep this handy.”

  Thorik thanked Gluic for her help and walked her out the doorway and onto the path before watching her head back to Farbank.

  She hadn’t walked more than a few steps before starting a conversation with one of her many imaginary companions. “Oh, good morning, Rummon. You’ll never guess who has arrived…”

  Grinning at her typical odd behavior, he soon returned back inside to clean up the mess created from the extraction. The fire had been extinguished, but he still needed to clean up the glass and various powders from the jars of herbs that had previously resided on the destroyed shelf.

  Ambrosius’ throat was raspy even though the pain had subsided. He still didn’t understand what had happened or where he was. Regardless, he was relieved not to be in pain anymore. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I am Sec Thorik Dain of Farbank.”


  “I am Ambrosius.” Finally having a chance to look at Thorik’s face, it triggered fragments of memories, but nothing solid. “You look familiar to me, though I don’t recognize your name.”

  “I would have recalled meeting you.” Thorik laughed at the thought. “Very few humans have visited Farbank.”

  “I never forget a face. We’ve met before. Have you been in the Dovenar Kingdom or to Kingsfoot?”

  “Only in my daydreams. Although, I’d love the opportunity to travel upstream to the White Summit.” Thorik reapplied the damp clothes to his burns. “I found you lying unconscious in the woods during my last hunt, so I brought you here. You’ve woken several times and each time you have seen my face before passing out again. It’s most likely that which you recall.” Returning to the kitchen, he finished picking up the large pieces of debris before grabbing a broom to sweep up.

  Twisting his wrists and ankles, Ambrosius stretched them out before reaching for his eye. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful but why is my eye covered?”

  Thorik glanced over at the leather strap wrapped around his patient’s head to hold a paste of root and herbs against his right eye. “It still needs to heal.”

  “Heal from what? I thought I was healed.”

  “No. You aren’t healed. Granna just removed the pain for a while. She’ll return when it starts to get out of control again.”

  “I’ll let you know when I get to that point.”

  “No need. My grandmother will know before you do.” Thorik moved a long stick and some small wood working tools to his table. “It will take several more sessions. You were badly hurt. As far as I can tell, you were in some sort of fire before you ended up in the river and then nearly torn apart by animals.” His tone was observational with a hint of excitement.

  “Fire? River?” Ambrosius rolled over to his side before slowly sitting up on the bed. “We were in a council meeting having an argument.” He thought for a moment and asked himself, “Then what?” The lapse in memories was frustrating. “The room began to shake. Everyone was running. The mountain came down on us during the Grand Council meeting.” His voice trailed off in dismay.

  “You’re a member of the Grand Council?” Thorik staged his tools neatly on his table from longest to shortest.

  “Member?” snorted Ambrosius. “Dear lad, I created the confounded council,” Taking a deep breath of pride, he released it while savoring the memories of better times. “I had orchestrated the unthinkable, to hold a Grand Council meeting in the sacred Mountain King Temple to unite ancient enemies against a common scourge. Together we could cease the hostilities amongst the free people.” He paused and then continued in a more humble tone, “But we were attacked before an agreement could be made. Now the death of the council and the destruction of the temple will be associated with my accomplishments. I have failed our people by bring all the leaders of our lands into a trap. A single stroke of evil was possible because of my lack of foresight.”

  Thorik looked on with interest but did not grasp the depth of Ambrosius’ words. “I’m sorry to hear about your loss. I’ve never been that far upstream, but it’s my understanding that Kingsfoot and statue of the King are more inspiring and grand than anything else in the world.” He closed his eyes to envision what it could look like. “It seems a shame to deface such a magnificent place.”

  Gathering his wits about himself, Ambrosius straightened up. “Thorik, this is more than my loss or the devastation to a temple. The tide of Australis will change for the worse without its leaders. I need to return to the Mountain King Temple and find out if there are any survivors. There’s still a chance we can save the Kingdom and the lands beyond.”

  Sitting down at the table, Thorik began carving the head of a long thick wooden staff. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  “I’m sorry Thorik, but you cannot stop me,” he said in a friendly authoritative way.

  “Nor would I have to try. Your leg will take care of it for me.”

  Ambrosius recalled the broken leg and cautiously lifted up his body to see if his legs could take the pressure of standing. “Not yet. Perhaps with a good walking stick.” Disappointed, he sat back down on the bed and noticed that Thorik was creating just that. “How long before I can use my right eye?”

  Thorik walked over and sniffed the roots against his eye. “Not long. The root paste is just starting to smell of rot; it will be a few more days before it’s finished reducing your swelling. You’ll have time to collect your vision before the Harvest Festival, but your leg will take much longer.”

  Thorik went back to work on the long staff and thought about the destruction at Kingsfoot and the death of various leaders he never knew. Feelings of sadness mixed with the excitement of adventure, as he wished he could explore the site to see what had happened. And yet he knew his uncle would never allow that.

  Ambrosius returned his head to the bed and stared at the thatched ceiling. He was currently dependent on the charity of others; a feeling that he’d come to loathe over the years. On top of that, he knew every day spent recovering reduced the likelihood of him discovering if anyone else survived the Grand Council meeting and who in the meeting was the conspirator that caused the attack. However, he knew he had to wait until he had healed before leaving.

  Every morning and evening Fir Brimmelle came into Thorik’s home and read from his Scrolls of Wisdom for an hour.

  Ambrosius almost didn’t realize he was there. His mind was miles upstream. In fact, he didn’t even recall being introduced to Brimmelle. The Num arrived, read, and then left the home with no conversation.

  Another daily ritual became the cleansing of his pain by Gluic. This odd healing technique seemed to hold off the pain for nearly a day and each time the effects would last a little longer. She would come in and take control, perform her cleansing, complain about Ambrosius not helping enough, and then leave. This also became a blur to him.

  Ambrosius began to slowing walk again with the aid of the staff Thorik had made for him. His life was still in the hands of others. It was a devastating position to be in for such a man who was normally in control.

  Chapter 4

  Harvest Festivities