Fate of Thorik

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

Ambrosius woke up mentally relaxed and refreshed, but the visions he had were unsettling. His memories of the council meeting were clear and yet the traitor’s identity had been missed or blocked from his thoughts. For the first time in many weeks, he was feeling more like himself and ready to find out the truth.

  During Ambrosius’ sleep, Thorik had successfully led the party up the ancient trail atop the rim and then the rest of the way to Kingsfoot Lake without any more issues. Friendship had quickly united Grewen and Thorik along the way, and the Num had also continued to slowly earn Draq’s trust and respect which was more than Ambrosius had hoped for.

  Waiting for the group to get moving again, Avanda tested her climbing skills on one of many stone statues in the area. Twice the height of Grewen, it was in the form of a giant cat on its hind legs.

  Gluic had kept to herself like always but seemed to be spending more and more time talking to unseen members of their party. “Yes, Rummon, we’re on our way. Be patient.” Turning around she shook her head. “No, Zixi, I’m not chasing you down the tower’s stairwell again.” She continued her discussion while gathering grass and wild flowers to make herself a new necklace.

  Brimmelle and Wess sat by the shore looking across the half-circle lake. Against the flat mountainside, the Mountain King statue’s head and hands were in rubble at his feet. Cold morning air swirled with the mist rising from the lake water, covering the Mountain King’s toes.

  They were all relieved to have arrived at Kingsfoot but disappointed to find the statue destroyed. They had hoped Ambrosius was wrong. It was a sad sight, as they stared at the cooled dark lava rock that ran down the Mountain King’s headless body. It was now clear that the molten rock and ash had poisoned the waters downstream. The mystery of the dead fish in Farbank may have been solved, but the destruction of the Mountain King Temple and Grand Council still raised many questions.

  The perimeter of the lake was lined with large statues of various animals, all on large cube stone bases. Most bases rested on the shoreline, while some sat nearly submerged in the lake’s water. All of the statues faced the Mountain King. A bear stood up on its back feet and a deer looked to be leaping off its statue base. Each statue had an endless level of realism that reminded Ambrosius of what he had seen inside the city.

  Above and beyond the Mountain King statue, rose a mighty snow-covered peak that could be seen from Farbank. Glaciers hugged the White Summit’s sides as smoke rose from its natural chimneys. Its clouds of steam had grown over the years. Recently the pillars of vapor had been thick and dark.

  Along the sides of the valley, green spruce trees ran up the half bowl shaped foothills toward the steep barren peaks that lined them. No roads or paths could be viewed, nor any buildings, other than the stone city of Kingsfoot on the far side of the lake.

  Opposite the cliff face, the lake’s water ran through a thin canal under a bridge and into a large river. This was the official source of the King’s River which wound back and forth around various foothills as it made its way past Farbank and Longfield and then to the distant Lake Luthralum.

  Contrary to the obvious devastation of the Mountain King’s statue, the valley continued to emanate feelings of wellbeing.

  Splash!

  Brimmelle jumped up to his feet and ran over toward his mother who was several steps into Kingsfoot Lake. Searching for new stones, her dress was soaking from the knees down. “Mother, get out of the sacred water,” Brimmelle ordered with no results.

  She spied something under the water that gave her great interest and bent her knees to lower her entire body under water for several seconds as she retrieved what she was looking for. It was a long clear crystal the length of her palm. Cylindrical in shape and as thin as her finger, it was smooth along the sides and sharp on the ends. Holding up her treasure, she turned with her dripping hair and clothes to show it off to her son. “I wondered where this one was.”

  “Please get out of there before you freeze to death,” he shouted to her.

  She ignored him and hid the crystal away before she cupped her hands and scooped up water to wash her face. “I miss this water. Warm and cleansing. Good for healing the body and soul.”

  Brimmelle had taken his boots off and began to wade into the water to escort her to shore. As he stepped into the water he was amazed at how warm and soothing it was. Natural springs of mineral water had kept the lake at a comfortable temperature.

  After standing up, Thorik reached down to help Emilen up from where they had been sitting. He gathered his updated maps and notes of their journey and then carefully placed them into his wooden coffer, which was then tucked away into his mended backpack.

  “Em, could you please hand me my carving knives?” Thorik requested as he gestured toward the ground where he had worked on Ambrosius’ staff.

  Emilen quickly gathered the neatly placed tools and handed them to him before grabbing the staff. “We should get over to the city before nightfall to avoid the cool night air.” she announced as she handed the staff to Ambrosius. “I had Thorik add a few extra runes on your staff to help you during your travels.” She gave a pleasant smile and eyed the newly added Portent Scroll Rune.

  Afterward, she worked her way down to the waterfront where Wess waded his sore feet in the warm water. Placing one hand on his shoulder to get his attention, she announced that the break was over. It was time for the last hike of the day, to the city of Kingsfoot.

  The touch rejuvenated Wess. She had not made any physical contact with him for days, and her unexpected gesture caused him to realize how much he missed it. Wess’ sense of comfort ended when she removed her hand. He wasn’t used to losing, especially to Thorik.

  “Avanda?” Thorik called up to the top of the huge statue of a wild cat roaring with its face tilted upward toward the Mountain King. She had been climbing and playing on it for some time now.

  From within its open mouth, she peered over the edge at him. Tossing one leg over the side to start her descent, she was suddenly jerked back up and out of view from the rest of the party.

  “Help!” Avanda reached her arms up in the air from inside the cat’s mouth before they were once again ripped away.

  Racing to the statue, the Nums could hear her shrieks of pain. Sweat collected upon Brimmelle’s forehead at the thought of her danger, as Wess loaded his bow and aimed it at the statue before realizing his misguided logic.

  “It’s eating me alive!” she yelled by the time Thorik had climbed up to the knee of the petrified animal. “Where is my handsome hero to save me?” She giggled and then broke out laughing at everyone’s emotional response. “Am I doomed to be devoured by a cat?” she called down to the group as she dramatically flung her upper body over the edge of the open mouth.

  Brimmelle patted his brow dry with a cloth. “Not funny, young one. Get down here right now.”

  Chuckling at the ruse, Thorik stopped climbing. “Grewen, can you help her down please?”

  “At your service, little man.” Stepping up on the square base, he reached up for her.

  She continued to laugh as she hopped into Grewen’s enormous hand before he gently set her down in front of the group.

  Pretending to be ashamed, she apologized with a smirk. “Sorry about that, Fir Brimmelle. I was just playing.”

  Brimmelle dismissed her weak attempt at an apology. “Help my mother out of the lake and get her items together. It’s time to go.”

  Gluic smiled and reached out for the girl to approach. “Come out into the water and help me back to shore, dear. And don’t mind him. He doesn’t like it when I play either.”

  Ambrosius slowly stood up with the assistance of his newly modified wooden staff. “My mind is clear, but my body feels like I’ve been in a fight with a Chuttlebeast,” he said to Grewen.

  “Looks like the beast won.” Chuckling, he then watched his friend to ensure he could stand without assistance. His hand was ready to catch him, should he fall.

  They were both impress
ed to see that Ambrosius was able to walk better than he had in a long time. The E’rudite quietly thanked Gluic for her help under his breath as he and Grewen began to lead the group toward the city.

  “You’re welcome,” Gluic casually replied from a distance, as she walked out of the lake with several new stones for her collection.

  Avanda quickly helped Gluic gather her items, while Brimmelle and Wess waited for her. Once she was ready, she led them across the lush grassland around the lake.

  It wasn’t long before the four Nums had caught up to the Mognin and human. By that point Avanda was bored and asked Grewen if he would carry her. Traveling with her in one arm was effortless for the giant and it gave her the chance to ride high enough to see the distant city’s unique features.

  Shortly after heading out, Emilen had stopped Thorik to point out several unique landmarks in the valley, causing the two Nums to fall behind the others.

  Draq scouted from high above, watching the party break up into three groups. Three Nums had moved up front. Grewen’s slow heavy steps now set the pace for Ambrosius and the giant’s passenger, Avanda. However, Thorik and Avanda had stopped at the lake shoreline. The dragon’s only concern was for Ambrosius, and he stayed within a few air maneuvers of reaching him.

  Calmness made Draq uneasy. He would much rather be engaged in battle and know where his enemy was, than to sit idle and wait for them to come out of hiding.

  Ambrosius and his escorts continued working their way to Kingsfoot, walking in the wide field of shallow grass that covered the land between the water and the woods. Steam continued to rise from the lake and poured out under the bridge at the halfway point around the lake. The stone overpass spanned the lake’s only outlet, which feed the King’s River.

  The bridge was carved with the same devotion that the local statues had been. It was in the shape of an enormous scroll that had unraveled across the river’s width. Appearing frozen in time, as though a breeze pushed the center of the paper bridge up off the water. Railings were made from the sides of the scrolled paper as it reacted to the artistic wind and folded upwards. The bridge was flawless, except for the railing on the far right side. It had been broken and the rough stone was exposed from the top of the handrail.

  Gluic, Brimmelle, and Wess crossed the bridge and continued to work their way around the lake toward the city.

  Leaping out of the Mognin’s hands without warning, Avanda raced up to the crossing. Hopped up onto the railing she made her way across with skill and grace. Her decent was a quick cartwheel on the railing with a tumble in the air before landing in the grass on the far side. She loved being playful and hoped never to grow up.

  Not long after, Ambrosius and Grewen reached the bridge, but stopped abruptly when they came upon the damaged railing. Ambrosius felt the rock with the tips of his fingers. It stirred up painful memories within him, but the flashes of his past were too vague to understand why. The broken stone was sharp to the touch and shards of the railing laid scattered about on the bridge and on the ground below. Curious, he slowly worked his way off the bridge and around the railing. Following the outside of the bridge he found his way back underneath it, where the river met the lake.

  Grewen watched Ambrosius set his wooden staff down to reach under the bridge and grab a long black metal rod. It was his old quarterstaff. The one he had used to defeat the Sathoids of Lutin. The staff he used when he held Wilken Pres at bay during the Trial of the Humorics. It had survived, apparently better than he had. The crystal top piece sat neatly in the thin black iron rod, flaring out just above and below his hand. The grip was of the finest leather and its sister handhold was down the staff farther, for use when two handed gripping was needed for battle. A decorative counterbalance was placed toward the bottom that could also be used as a long handled mace-like weapon. It was a glorious piece of art and weaponry he had commissioned for himself long before the Battle of Maegoth.

  Grinning with satisfaction, Ambrosius clutched it with both hands. It revived him and gave him a sense of strength and security that everything would be back to normal. Back to how he had made it. He felt that everything in his life would soon be heading in the right direction.

  “Darkmere.” Grasping his metal staff tight in his fists, Ambrosius peered up across the lake at the headless King. “You made a mistake by not killing me when you had a chance.” With his newly found staff in hand, he used it to walk back up to Grewen who was standing at the end of the bridge waiting for him.

  “It is good to see you holding your quarterstaff again,” Grewen commented, as they began to distance themselves from the bridge. It was part of his identity and charisma. As he walked with Ambrosius, he couldn’t help but notice his friend stood up straighter and with more confidence. “You look more like your old self now.”

  Allowing his hand to drag near his feet, the giant ripped a handful of grass out of the field and tossed it into his mouth while continuing to the conversation. “Is that a good thing?” he half-joked, spilling some of the grass from his lips.

  Chapter 15

  Hot Spring Mineral Waters