Fate of Thorik

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

After traveling a mile or so beyond the cliff face and over the mountain saddle, Thorik’s party stopped to make camp and tend to their wounds. A makeshift litter helped transport Ambrosius, as he slept off the exhaustion from the day’s events.

  “Unacceptable!” Brimmelle continued to rant about the battle and losing their rations. “We have but a day’s food left, we’re badly hurt, we have a child and women to protect, and on top of it the guest of honor can’t walk, again. This journey has come to an end. Those evil beasts are within two days of Farbank! How are we going to warn everyone? We should have never accompanied this man upstream. I’ve told you never to trust outsiders.”

  “He would have died on his own.” Emilen cleaned out the deep scratches in Thorik’s sides. They were not life threatening but were deep enough to give him a lifelong scar. “It is our spiritual duty to help him.”

  It had become a common disagreement throughout the entire trip, background noise that they carried with them. Nothing ever resolved. No actions ever taken. No give or take. Just a continual disagreement that added a level of discomfort to everything they did.

  “But not at the expense of all of our lives.” Brimmelle reached for his scrolls to read some comforting words like he usually did; only to find the chest of scrolls gone, taken by the beast that had attacked him. Brimmelle was distraught only for a moment before becoming livid and even more irrational. “That is the last step of the King! By the words of the scrolls, we must head home to safety. This outside world is chaotic and unpredictable. We’ll float downstream on logs if we must, but it is far too dangerous for us out here.”

  “You’re fears are speaking in place of the King. The scrolls talk at length about accepting nature, for all of its chaos, danger, and beauty, and yet you avoid it at all costs.” Emilen finished up with Thorik and helped him put his shirt back on.

  “I accept nature for what it is, ‘A chaotic struggle between life and death with no direction or goal in mind’, first line of the third topic in the Nature Rune Scroll.” He read from his memories. “We are above that. We do not need to submerge ourselves in this unclean environment to prove anything. We didn’t ask him to come to our village, he came on his own. We owe him nothing.”

  “Actually, he was brought to us.” Wess calmly cleaned the thrasher’s blood off his hunting knife before continuing. “Dain found him and took him in.” He pointed his blade in the direction of Thorik.

  The focus was now on Thorik who was starting to mend his backpack and take inventory of what had survived the attack. He could feel their eyes gazing at him waiting for a response, pushing him to accept defeat and subdue him into the scapegoat for this disaster of a trip. It had all been his fault from the beginning and now it was time to come clean.

  But it was a lie. He believed in his actions and would do the same again. The pain from the attack was one thing but the constant bickering was just too much. “Leave!” His statement was strong and crisp to ensure that everyone clearly understand him. “I didn’t ask you to come with me. This was my journey, my task. I was doing what I felt was the right thing to do. I talked to Gluic about it and she informed me when he was able to leave. I never involved you. I didn’t ask you to disrupt your life and sacrifice it for him. But all I’ve heard since we left Farbank was your constant complaining. On top of that, you have blessed yourself with the power of the King’s hand to determine if Ambrosius should live or die.” He gazed at Brimmelle, Wess, and Emilen as he talked. “This is not your decision. You do not have the authority.”

  Taking a deep breath, Thorik continued, “Leave, go back home, out of danger. I agree this is no journey for children. Take Avanda with you. Alert the hunting parties of the thrashers along the gorge rim. You should go. You must go. I will, however, continue to go on my own path despite the hardships it brings upon me, for I know that my heart is in the right place.” He turned away from the campfire and walked into the darkness of the trees.

  Silence fell over the camp. Brimmelle was appalled at being talked to in such a manner from his own Sec. “How ungrateful, after all I’ve done for him. There will have to be repercussions.”

  Wess was without words for the first time on the trek.

  Emilen crossed her arms with disappointment. “Look at what you two have done.”

  Thorik walked a short bit down the hill away from the campfire light and leaned his back up against a large old pine tree. Looking up at the tall straight trunk he could see a few stars beyond the top branches as he asked the air above him, “I hope I’ve made the right choice to help him. But how do I know if I’m doing the right thing?”

  “The best way to predict your future is to create it,” a deep voice emanated from around the tree, startling Thorik.

  Leaping away, he looked at the tree in disbelief. “What?” He hoped to provide his ears with some validation of the voice.

  “There are no guarantees your actions are right. You must trust yourself, take them, and let them play out. Take control of your destiny, follow your instincts, and be willing to live with the consequences.” The voice had a thunderous effect to it, not loud, but yet rumbling that gave off a slight echo.

  The Num couldn’t quite tell if it was coming from the tree, around the tree or perhaps above the tree. Could it be the Mountain King himself talking from the sky up above, or was this tree before him actually coming to life?

  Nervous, Thorik asked as he stared up and down at the tree. “Who are you?”

  “Grewen. And who might you be, little man?”

  “Sec Thorik Dain of Farbank.” Searching for the source of the voice in the low light, he spoke directly to the old tree in order to affix the voice to something.

  “A large name for such a small creature.”

  “Actually, many tell me that it’s quite short,” he replied with a smirk. “You spoke of consequences. Can you explain?”

  “Every decision you make changes your future, even the decision not to decide shapes your destiny. You are responsible for your own actions and the fallout from them. If you accept this as truth you will lead a happier life.”

  Thorik stepped farther back from the tree before addressing it once again. “What if others take actions that conflict with my own?”

  “Blaming others for your misfortunes will only cloud your reality. You cannot control the events that happen around you. However, you have full control of how you react to them. Accept events for what they are and nothing more. To get caught in the web of others will lead you to a path of disillusion and frustration. But this line of questioning most likely requires a longer discussion. Shall we move up to your campsite where it is warmer?”

  “You can move?” Thorik questioned.

  “Yes. And I must ask, is it customary for you to have your back turned to those you speak to?”

  “Back turned?” Thorik looked over his shoulder to see an enormous giant standing a few yards from him, partially obscured by the areas natural thick bushes. The gigantic man stood twice that of Ambrosius as he rested his crossed arms in front of him on a thick tree branch. He looked very relaxed as he stood there with one leg propped up on an exposed root.

  Thorik was horrified at the size of him. The darkness added to his fear as he trembled with shock.

  “Now, this is what I’m talking about. You had no way of preventing me from looking the way I do. Your reaction to this situation is in your control and yet you are allowing yourself be affected by it. Interesting isn’t it?” Grewen mused.

  “Interesting isn’t the word I would use. Why did you sneak up on me like that?”

  “Sneak?” Grewen chuckled at the idea of someone his size sneaking about. “Again with the blaming of others. I was resting here from my hike up this hillside when you walked up upon us.”

  “Us? There are more of you?” Thorik questioned looking wildly around, trying to see through the moonlit forest as he backed up to the old tree and took on a defensive position.

  “Slow down, little ma
n. Are you paying attention to how you are reacting to things that don’t even exist? You really need to relax.”

  Thorik heard Emilen scream up the hill. Looking away from Grewen, he turned from the conversation and ran up the hill as quickly as he could.

  Thorik was fast and could easily maneuver within the trees as he quickly returned to camp. Brimmelle, Wess, and Emilen were huddled in the center of the opening, near the fire, as they all looked into the dark woods. Avanda stood on the far side of the fire, curious to investigate what they had viewed.

  Upon seeing Thorik, Emilen screamed out to him, “There’s a winged beast attacking from the woods. Get over here! Now!”

  Brimmelle ignored Thorik and continued calling to Avanda. He was terrified for himself as well as for her. “You’re in danger, come here at once. Quickly, child.”

  Ignoring him, she was mesmerized by the image she had seen fly near the camp and wished to see it again.

  “Where’s Gluic?” Thorik asked.

  Emilen suddenly remembered that Gluic wasn’t with them. “She went up the hill before you left.”

  “She’s alone in the forest with a winged beast?” Thorik ran through the camp, out the other side, and then up the hill to find her. He called out Gluic’s name several times before finally seeing her sitting in a column of moonlight with a new array of weeds and wild flowers in her hair. Her chin was down and her eyes were closed as she kneeled on a small boulder with her open hands, palms down, floating over her stones. Spread across the flat top of the rock before her, stones and crystals were set in an artistic flowing pattern.

  He had seen her do this before, but he had never disturbed her during a meditation. He approached her from the front, as she faced downhill, and placed his hands on hers to gently wake her.

  Her hands grabbed his and began to pull him over the rock toward her. His legs were nearly dangling as he looked up to see her eyes open wide but with a distant look to them. Stretched and tight, her face took on a horrifying appearance.

  “Find out his plans and expose the E’rudite,” she said in a deep masculine voice. “Many will die if he is not stopped.”

  Her grip was very tight and was starting to hurt his wrist. “Whose plans? What needs to be stopped?” he asked before she let go of him and blinked her eyes back to normal.

  Lowering her shoulders, her body became less tense as she sneered at Thorik. “You’ve messed up my stones.” Her voice had returned to normal and she lowered herself off the rock after collecting her items, placing each in their correct sack.

  “We have to hurry. There is a-,” was all that Thorik got out before a scream was heard behind him. “Let’s go!” He then helped her quickly move down the hill.

  Reaching the camp with Gluic in tow, he saw Brimmelle pointing Ambrosius’ staff up at an angle in the air while Wess fired multiple rounds of arrows toward the trees. Emilen now had a firm grasp on Avanda to protect her as they crouched near Ambrosius.

  Standing at the edge of the camp was the giant, Grewen, with a shield taller than himself. Arrows being fired shattered as they struck the reflective metal shield. Its shiny metallic surface acted almost as a mirror, causing the campfire behind the group to give off an odd light show while the giant eased his way forward.

  No markings or symbols were visible on the shield. There were various waves and creases within it that resembled large wings.

  Grewen held the shield out in front of him as he continued to slowly work his way into camp. An arrow could be seen attached to the side of his foot that periodically became exposed from under the lower pointed end of the red tipped shield.

  “Let me see,” yelled Avanda as Emilen tried to hide her from the creature entering camp.

  “Stop!” Thorik shouted as he raced over to Wess and pushed his bow down toward the ground.

  Wess raised it again once Thorik let go, but discontinued the attack.

  “Thank you.” Grewen’s voice thundered causing the Nums to increase their defensive stance. Grewen started lowering his shield and looked over at Wess. “Put that away before someone gets hurt.”

  Thorik nodded to Wess who finally lowered the weapon but did not remove the arrow from its position within it.

  “See, that wasn’t so hard,” Grewen said as he let go of the shield, which began to fall to the ground. But before landing, it caught itself with a set of back legs. A tail and then a head and neck appeared as the wings folded up and onto its back. The shield had been the back and wings of a silver-scaled creature while its tail, legs, and head had been wrapped around Grewen’s massive arm.

  Twelve feet of intimidating muscle unfolded before them, reaching from the point of the creatures jagged teeth all the way back to his red-tipped spiked tail. It stretched out to full length as its wings folded up against its body. Reflecting the image of the camp and surrounding woods off of its silver body, it moved through the camp in an awkward and nearly crippled fashion. With arms born into the wings, long sharp claws protruded from the top front of them. This ornery beast was made for flying, not land movement.

  Its facial scales were smaller and struggled to cover the redness of his gums and dual rows of teeth that angled in various directions from his mouth. His eyes stayed squinted with his scaled eyebrows arching down in a permanent look of anger. Bright red eyelids made it appear that the creature’s eyes changed from solid black to red with every blink. The Red-Tipped Silver Dragon ignored the Nums; they were of no interest to him.

  Each member reacted differently to the sight. Wess instinctively raised his bow back up. Brimmelle fell backward near the fire while Emilen stood in shock. Thorik stood between the dragon and his group to keep the peace.

  “Amazing,” Avanda said slowly, while Gluic raised her eyebrows and smiled. “We have guests!”

  “Firing that arrow at Draq will only upset him. He isn’t as well tempered as I am,” Grewen commented as he plucked the arrow from his foot and then walked further into camp before noticing a figure lying on the opposite side of the fire. “Ambrosius? He’s alive! Excellent work, Draq. You led us right to him.” In two long strides he had crossed the camp and reached Ambrosius.

  Emilen and Avanda stood in front of the unconscious man as the giant approached. “Leave him alone!” shouted Emilen, while Avanda smiled in awe at his size.

  Grewen reached down and gently pushed the two Nums to one side with the back of his enormous hand. “Pardon me, but I need to see if my friend is well.”

  Draq followed and hissed at the group, preventing them from approaching Ambrosius. Emilen tugged at Avanda, leading her to the safety of Wess.

  Grewen and Draq quickly walked around the camp and gathered the items they needed as they assessed Ambrosius’ status.

  Brimmelle, Avanda, and Emilen stayed near Wess with his arrow still in the cocked position, trained on the two large creatures as they moved about.

  Gluic stood next to Thorik as they watched. Thorik was uncomfortable about them approaching Ambrosius. He had taken such a strong responsibility for the injured man that he didn’t like the idea of strangers taking over. Gluic held him back with a slight tug of his arm and assured him that everything would be fine. He trusted her ability to read people but these were creatures and he didn’t know how well she did with them. So he watched closely and carefully as the giant and dragon ignored the band of travelers.

  As with most Mognins, Grewen’s dark leathery skin made his face look old and the back of his bald head looked like the underside of a sack that Thorik had once made out of a banteng skin. His entire body was covered with the hairless tough brown skin, except for his eyebrows and a long patch of brown hair from his chin that was neatly weaved and tied with leather.

  The giant’s hands were large in proportion to the rest of his body, with a thumb on each side of three thick square-shaped fingers that extended long enough to have an extra joint in them. His body was large in every sense of the word and he wore a long light brown robe that was tied a
bove his hips with a thick rope. His feet were bare and nearly as long as Thorik’s entire body.

  Even with two opposable thumbs on each hand, Grewen couldn’t help with Ambrosius’ bandages. His fingers were simply too large. Instead he focused on gathering hot water, soaking rags, and making a comfortable bed for Ambrosius. He also added a few large tree limbs to the fire to increase the light to work by. He didn’t move quickly but he was continual in his efforts before he finally sat down with a rumble that made everyone’s footing uneasy.

  Poking his thick finger at several of the packs and bags, he asked, “I’m starving. Do you have anything to eat?” Silence filled in for an answer as he continued to investigate their supplies.

  The dragon seemed to take the lead role of tending to Ambrosius. Hovering over him with his back to the party, his reflective bat shaped wings were blocking their view to what he was doing. They could see his head bob up and down and periodically strain upwards as though he was pulling on something, or pulling something apart.

  It actually appeared as though the creature was devouring Ambrosius’ body and Thorik couldn’t sit quietly any longer. He walked away from Gluic and toward the reflective image of himself on the dragon’s back scales.

  “It’s never a wise move to sneak up on a dragon.” Grewen reached over and took a log out of the fire. “Especially one as mean-spirited as Draq.”

  Thorik was reevaluating many thoughts at this point. Included among them was his approach on the dragon as well as his trust in the giant that now had a flaming log gripped in his hand.

  He looked over to see Wess’ arrow trained at Grewen while Emilen had now picked up a few hand size rocks to help protect them. Brimmelle still held the staff in a defensive manner, as he was still shocked by the entire situation.

  Thorik had to think and act quickly to save Ambrosius’ life without being crushed by the giant’s flaming club. The moment he saw his opening, he took it. The giant was holding the club to his side and would force him to swing it sideways to hit Thorik. If he could jump a few yards closer to the dragon and then dive out of the way before the log clobbered him, it would crush against the dragon’s back instead. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it’s all he had.

  With a few launching steps and a valiant leap of faith he made it to his intended spot next to the dragon and dove onto the dirt. He rolled slightly from his momentum and landed on his back looking up at the dragon’s face that looked back down at him. Thorik had jumped too far and had rolled under the dragon’s wing to his front side, where Ambrosius lay with new bandages and splints.

  “Get out, Fesh!” The dragon glared at Thorik.

  Thorik complied and rolled back under Draq’s wing to find Grewen scratching the bottom of his foot with the end of the flaming log. It was not going to be used as a weapon after all.

  “Oh yah, that feels good.” Grewen massaged the arches of his feet with the log. Sparks of hot cinders covered both his feet as he drilled the log into key pressure points with pleasure.

  Looking slightly dumbfounded as he moved away from the silver dragon, Thorik looked over at Grewen. “Fesh?”

  Grewen shook his head at Draq with disappointment. “Mind your words, we’re in mixed company.”

  Draq ignored Grewen’s comments and instead answered Thorik’s question. “A Fesh is a low life, dimwitted creature so repulsive that one would rather kill it than see it suffer another day eating its own feces.”

  “It isn’t something you want to be,” Grewen clarified as he enjoyed the feeling of the fiery log between each of his toes. He then scrubbed the sides and bottom of his feet with it.

  “Okay, I understand,” Thorik acknowledged. “What kind of creatures are you?”

  “They’re Altered Creatures,” Brimmelle said. “Physical abnormalities of nature created by the Notarians to fight the Mountain King. These filthy beasts are our sworn enemies, designed to kill Polenums. But they were no match for the Mountain King and his army.” He ended with a slight half grin.

  Grewen squinted his eyes and smiled. It wasn’t clear if it was the result of the Fir’s statement or the digging of the flaming log on his foot. “Legends and folklore have distorted the truth,” the giant said with a rhythmic grinding of the log. “We are Unday, the descendants of the Altered Creatures. And the tales of the Mountain King War are told differently from where I come from. The victors of it are quite mixed.”

  Brimmelle corrected him instantly. “Mixed by you Altereds. How do you explain the building of the Mountain King statue if he had lost?”

  “How do you explain thousands of years of Altered Creature and Unday rule after the war?” Grewen enjoyably tossed back. “Besides, statues are made for martyrs as well as heroes.”

  “You grotesque freakishly-large excuse for an overweight hairless bear!” Brimmelle yelled. “How dare you mock the King!”

  “Keep it down!” roared Draq, causing even the crickets in the woods to become silent.

  Extinguishing the log in the arch of his left foot, Grewen tossed it back into the fire and brushed off the remaining ashes from his skin. “Draq’s right. It’s late.” Lying down, he rested his head on an outstretched arm. “Get some sleep, we have a long walk ahead of us in the morning,” he finished, before quickly falling asleep.

  The dragon finished what he was doing. “You heard him, go to sleep,” he ordered as he rested himself next to Ambrosius and covered him with a metallic-looking wing.

  The camp went silent. Ambrosius lay unconscious covered by a Red-Tipped Silver Dragon, a leather-skinned Mognin giant stretched out over half the camp and a group of Num’s all stood and watched Thorik sit in the dirt with confusion on his face.

  Bewildered over the recent events that just unfolded, Thorik looked around the camp to make sense of it all. Thoughts raced in his head. “What just happened to our journey? Is it over? Do I hand Ambrosius over to these creatures who claim to be his friends and return home? Return home to do what? To be what? Brimmelle’s Fir-Pet, as Wess likes to call it.” The dynamics of the party had changed and Thorik struggled to understand his place in it. “This was my task, my chance, my opportunity to show that I’m a leader by helping Ambrosius save our people,” he thought to himself. “But how will I ever lead these new members? They will easily crush me if I stand up to them.”

  Feeling desperate, he looked at Gluic for support and she nodded that it would be okay as she waved him back to her.

  There was nothing to do now but keep quiet and out of the way. So, the Nums huddled near each other on the far side of the fire, away from the two uninvited guests and tried to rest.

 

  Chapter 10

  River Cut