Fate of Thorik

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

A large rib cage arched upward over Grewen’s head, connected at a peak of vertebrae running the length of the hall. Each rib bone acted as a column in the corridor, as though Ambrosius, Grewen, and Wess were walking inside the body of a giant snake. Several doorways exited the corridor along both sides, blending in to keep the carved atmosphere.

  A muscular structure could be seen on the walls between the bones along the way. Grewen stood up straight and ran his fingers on the textured ceiling overhead before holding up his torch to see all of the imperfections that had been purposely carved in great detail. “Amazing. The last time I’ve seen this level of craftsmanship was on the Tower of Lu’Tythis,” Grewen commented as he noticed a small symbol carved into the end of one of the ribs. It was a glyph of some type that he didn’t recognize, perhaps an artistic signature; a circle surrounding three overlapping circles, each with a single rune within them. It appeared to look similar to the symbol of the E’rudites.

  Ambrosius had walked ahead while Grewen conducted his investigation and Wess cautiously peered into several rooms on the sides of the hallway.

  “Grrrrrrrr.” The sound echoed in the long corridor.

  Wess felt an overwhelming desire to hide near the giant. Trust or not, the Ov’Unday was more comforting than the beast making the odd growling and rumbling. Bow and arrow ready, he had backed up against Grewen and tossed his torch before him, hoping that this new unknown would leave once it gazed upon Grewen’s massive size.

  “Grrrrrrr,” the gurgling of the growl was more apparent this time.

  “Show yourself.” Wess spoke out into the darkness.

  Grewen reached down with his free hand patted his stomach. “Oh, sorry about that,” the giant commented about his stomach rumblings. “I’m so hungry I’d consider eating meat.” Glancing down at Wess he compounded the Num’s uneasiness. Grewen chuckled at Wess’ reaction to his joke until he heard Ambrosius asking for him.

  Ambrosius was standing at the end of the hall in a large doorway that held two thick wooden doors, opened into the corridor. Beyond the entrance was a room, round in shape with a domed ceiling. In the center it hosted a large granite table with many chairs around it.

  “It’s the Temple,” Ambrosius said.

  Leaning down to get through the doorway, Grewen stood back up to observe what Ambrosius was describing. “It appears to be in better shape than you let on,” he jested.

  Wess walked in behind them much more nervous than the others. “I don’t think we should be in here. It smells of death.” He still didn’t fully trust either one of them, but at this point he was more concerned about the odd feelings he was getting from the carved-out rooms in the city.

  Ambrosius walked farther into the room and looked about. “Gluic?” He spotted her sitting on the floor beyond the table, placing stones in various patterns within a larger circle of stones that surrounded her.

  She looked up only for a moment as she continued her work. “Oh good, you’re here. We’re almost ready.”

  Smiling, Ambrosius shook his head at her odd ways before returning his attention to the room. Walking around the table, he softly touched the back of the chair that he remembered standing at when the Mountain King’s head came crashing down through the glass ceiling. “It is nearly identical, with a few modifications. These statues of Polenum warriors now stand where the windows were, and the ceiling is stone instead of glass.”

  Grewen reached up to touch the carved ceiling and knocked his knuckles on it several times. “Sounds like stone.” He then walked over to sit on the large granite table to rest. “So, why the duplication of rooms?”

  “It’s must be their Mori Site.” Wess immediately noticed their gazed at him with questioning expressions. “A Mori Site is built for the elders that can no longer make it up to the spiritual sites on top of the valley walls. It allows them a chance conduct business as well as to atone for disrespecting the Rules of Order. We have one in the center of Farbank. I assumed everyone had them.”

  Wess realized that he had captured both of their attentions. He was not going to lose this opportunity to be in control for a while. Rolling up his sleeves and placing his hands behind his head, he sat down in a chair and kicked his feet up onto the table. It was at this point that he began to enlighten them about his culture and his own stories of success in the community.

  This continued for a short time before two short figures approached the doorway.

  Thorik limped into the room and saw Wess sitting at the table telling Grewen a clever little tale about his past, while Gluic was busy giving a stern lecture to one of the many statues in the room. Ambrosius had his back to the group as he investigated one of the stone warriors.

  Avanda followed Thorik; carrying the unlit lantern along with some the items that had fallen out of his ripped backpack. Wonder still filled her eyes with every new experience and room she entered. She was ready for anything.

  Thorik, on the other hand, appeared to have already been through everything the city had to offer. His clothes were bloodstained and his backpack was torn and dragging behind him. With slumped shoulders and a dazed expression, he fell into a chair near Wess.

  “Nice hair, Dain,” Wess said of Thorik’s self-inflicted haircut. The last time Wess had seen Thorik he was talking to Emilen prior to crossing the bridge. Since then, the rest of the party hadn’t had any conflicts, so this appearance of a disheveled and bleeding Thorik was unexpected. He grinned and assumed that Emilen had rebuffed Thorik’s advances with hostility. “Where’s Emilen?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Thorik’s comments were meant for the group, but none paid any attention. “We followed her into the city and then she lost us. I was hoping she was with you. She knows her way around the city, but we should still go look for her. I don’t like the idea of her being alone.”

  Grewen’s eyebrows crunched in the middle of his face. “What did you run into, or should I ask what ran into you?”

  Wess was suddenly reminded of Gluic’s warning that they had nothing to fear until after dark. It was definitely after dark and Thorik’s wounds instantly alerted his senses. His face gave a nervous twitch as he waited for Thorik’s response. It most likely would be something hideous. “We should stay here. Safety in numbers.”

  Thorik motioned his head to Avanda as he replied to Wess. “Not likely, we brought the danger with us.”

  She walked over and set their damaged lantern on the table.

  Thorik pointed to the bent object. “This is the cause of my pain.”

  Wess chuckled. “Dain, you may want to practice fighting flint boxes before you move on to lanterns.”

  Grewen’s eyebrows relaxed at his answer. “The lantern attacked you?”

  “In a way, it did. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

  Grewen looked over at Wess who was confused at Thorik’s answer and still nervous about what really could be out in the dark. “Wess, you better stand behind me before he releases that lamp, it looks of foul temper.”

  Wess began to move out of his chair before realizing that Grewen was playing with him. Irritated that he was on the wrong side of the joke, he sat back down and folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, Dain, release your lantern of terror.”

  Gluic interrupted, as normal, on a completely different subject. “Ambrosius, we’re finished. They are here now and prepared to talk to you.”

  “Who wants to speak to me?” Ambrosius waited for someone to enter the room.

  “Those who died in the temple. They are here among us,” she continued as she reached out into the air as to hush a voice that only she could hear. “They are speaking of the killer of the Council.”

  The rest of the party looked about for something to happen, but it didn’t.

  Ambrosius gave her a strong gaze. “Thank you Gluic, this is what I came for. Ask them who destroyed the temple and killed the Council Members.”

  “They don’t wish to talk to me. Ask them yourself.�
� Gluic was apparently having a conversation with someone else and didn’t appreciate being interrupted. “He’ll find it and bring it to you. Be patient. You’ll be out of your slumber soon enough.” She continued her conversation with her unseen friend as she walked out the doorway into the large ribbed corridor.

  Ambrosius looked around for something to speak to. He finally walked up to the statue that Gluic had spent time with and asked, “Who did this to you? I need to know to prevent others from your same fate.”

  There was no response.

  Frustrated, Ambrosius called out to the other statues, “If you wish to speak, now is the time.” No response. “Who did this to you? Come alive and talk or we shall leave here with no direction to take justice.”

  “Are you sure you want them to come alive?” Thorik asked.

  All attention turned to Thorik as he opened a small glass door on Avanda’s lantern.

  Ambrosius stepped over to the table and braced himself against it. “Thorik, I need to know who did this. If you have some way to help, you need to do so.”

  Thorik lit the oil wick in the semi-functional lantern and sickly green dancing light painted the room. The illumination kissed the decorative walls and statues providing them with a burst of life and freedom to move about, just as it had to the spiders in the hallway and the panther in the room after.

  One of the statues began to move. First its eyes and then its fingers and mouth. Wess gasped and jumped up from his seat. Intrigued, Grewen scanned the room to see all of the activity, while Ambrosius stepped back from the animated statue.

  Eventually, all of the statues came to life and began moving toward the group. Wess took a defensive stance with his back to the center of the room. Thorik ushered Avanda under the table for safety.

  “Why has the slayer of the Council returned?” asked the statue in front of Ambrosius.

  Ambrosius corrected their statement. “He has not. However, I have returned to discover who your assassin is, so I may vindicate your deaths.”

  Another statue repeated the question. “Why has the killer of the Council returned to Kingsfoot?”

  All of the statues now had their weapons and shields forward and were ready to start fighting. They independently moved inward from the outside walls, each restating the phrase at random times with slight variations.

  “No, you have it wrong,” Ambrosius announced. “I didn’t kill you; I’m a victim of this as well,” he firmly stated to the statue in front of him, whose speed was increasing as his spear rose toward Ambrosius’ head.

  Eight statues surrounded the group, each with weapons and steps away from attacking the travelers. All were chanting the same accusation over and over again.

  Ambrosius stood firm and shouted, “Stop! You have made a mistake.” Each of his words came out strong and clear. Controlling his temper was becoming strenuous as the side of his face became rigid and menacing. “I command you to stop!”

  It was too late. Wess picked up a thick wooden chair and crashed it into the statue closest to him. Wooden splinters and debris showered the area, while the force of the impact knocked the statue over. It landed hard and shattered into pieces across the floor.

  One of the statues swung at Thorik. The Num ducked and rolled to the far wall to escape the blow. By the time he got back up, he could see Wess on the back of one of the statues while Grewen calmly held two of them at bay with his huge hands.

  Oblivious to Wess’ and Thorik’s challenges, Ambrosius easily held off several statues with his own powers as he tried to understand what was happening.

  A statue grabbed Wess off the back of another stone warrior. Tossing him to the ground, it prepared to stomp its granite foot onto the Num’s head.

  Seeing enough, Avanda jumped out from under the table, reached for the lantern, and then blew out the flame, returning the yellow light from the torches. All unnatural life had ceased once the wick had been extinguished and the green light had faded. Much like when the large cat attacked Thorik.

  Wess squeezed his face out from under the statues boot. A second later and he may not have had a face at all. Rolling away, he pushed himself up onto one knee to catch his breath as he pointed at Ambrosius. “I knew it!” Wess claimed as he worked both legs under him and stretched his back. “You killed all those people. You destroyed the Mountain King statue. You are behind this.”

  Ambrosius sat down in disbelief. “Why would they blame me?”

  “Because it was you,” Wess answered.

  Thorik stepped in. “He’s not the kind of person who would kill others for power. He’s just not like that.”

  “Oh, you would be surprised. He’s clever, but Brimmelle and I were right all along about him.”

  “Wess, why would he ask us to help him come all the way here if he had killed them?”

  Wess thought quickly and replied, “Because he came back for something. Something he didn’t have time to get last time but now with everyone out of the way he can find it.”

  “Like what? What have you seen him take? You’ve been with him the entire time.”

  Wess was a little puzzled by the questions but it didn’t stop him. “Perhaps he hasn’t found it yet.” He gave a slight pause before he smiled and continued. “Or maybe he has already acquired what he came back for.”

  Stepping over, he grabbed Ambrosius’ metal staff that had been leaning against the table. “Thorik, where’s the walking stick you made for him? I don’t recall him having this quarterstaff while he was in Farbank.”

  It was a sensitive subject for Thorik, but he didn’t let that change his mind. “Finding his staff doesn’t make him a murderer. You have to trust me, he didn’t do this.”

  “How do you know for sure? Tell me, what should we believe? His words or the words of those he has killed? The ghosts of his victims have pointed to him,” Wess added.

  Ignoring Wess, Ambrosius sat and scratched his beard while trying to figure out why the spirits of the Grand Council were accusing him of such crimes. “Frustrating,” he acknowledged. “This hasn’t helped us discover any clues as to who is working with Darkmere. Without this lead, we will have to go directly after Darkmere himself.”

  Thorik responded to Wess’ comments, “We don’t even know where those voices came from. Were they indeed spirits? Or were they controlled by someone else? There are a lot of questions to be answered before accusations can be made. Besides, don’t you think Ambrosius would know if he did this or not?”

  Wess, dismissing Thorik’s logic, was quick on the offensive again, “Let’s say for a moment that he’s not lying to us. Maybe he’s still missing some of his memory from when he got hurt and ended up in that crater. He could be telling us the truth that he doesn’t remember, and yet still have killed them.” He turned and looked directly at Thorik. “Remember when Trumette fell and knocked his head against the village well? He lost two days of memory and swore he hadn’t been in Sammal’s tree house, didn’t he?”

  Thorik argued the point, “Trumette loses two days of memory every time his wife makes him take a bath. Ambrosius’ memories were restored by Gluic. He recalls exactly what happened.”

  “Maybe Wess is correct.” Ambrosius spoke up. “Perhaps I am missing some facts. I keep having dreams of the destruction and what happened afterward but I lose the specifics by the time I wake. Gluic helped regain most of my memories, but not all of them.”

  “There, I knew it,” Wess proudly acclaimed as he pointed the black iron staff in judgment toward Ambrosius.

  Thorik thought for a moment before responding to Ambrosius. “There is a way to find out and end this discussion. Gluic, can you restore the rest of his thoughts?”

  The lack of response reminded them all that she had wandered off again.

  Thorik quickly put his items together in what remained of his backpack, grabbed a torch, and headed out the doorway to find Gluic. “Come on Avanda, we still need to find Em as well.”

  She grabbed her lantern
and its flask of oil before following him out of the room.

  Wess slowly positioned himself between Ambrosius and the doorway with the quarterstaff gripped for combat. He bent his knees slightly and hunched forward in case Ambrosius made a leap for him.

  Instead, Ambrosius leaned farther back into his chair and continued stroking the path of his mustache that led to his beard. He tilted his head and looked at the ever so quiet giant. “Grewen, what do you suppose they meant? If these statues were indeed speaking for the spirits here, do they blame me for bringing them here in the first place?”

  Oddly enough, Wess was startled as he had forgotten about Grewen. He was so large and still that he almost blended into the room. Wess moved his way behind Ambrosius and pulled out a hunting knife and held it up in a threatening manner. “Grewen, keep your distance or Ambrosius’ blood will be on your hands. This murderer is in my custody until we can get him to a higher authority.”

  Grewen ignored Wess and answered Ambrosius. “The spirit’s questions are vague. But if it is true that you don’t recall what happened, how can you honestly say that you didn’t kill them?”

  Wess nodded his head in agreement with Grewen.

  It was difficult to accept Grewen’s words, but Ambrosius acknowledged the possibility. “I suppose that I, at least indirectly, am responsible for their death.”

  With some confidence that Grewen was on his side, Wess stepped forward and placed the sharp blade of his hunting knife against the side of Ambrosius’ neck. “We’ve had enough of your lies and games. Tell us why you have destroyed this Temple, killed these people, and then returned here.” Wess stood as though he was going to sever the older man’s head from his shoulders if he didn’t get the answer he wanted to hear.

  Grewen lowered his head into one of his large palms in disbelief. The giant could only hope that Ambrosius wouldn’t get angry at the Num’s actions.

  Wess only had a moment to look up and see Grewen’s response before he was knocked off his feet by an invisible force that lifted him up, high in the air. The impact of the Num’s body against the stone surface knocked the wind out of him and causing him to drop his blade. Pinned to the ceiling, facing down, a mixture of fear and confusion crossed his face, unsure what to do.

  Ambrosius moved only one eyebrow. This level of his powers was like brushing away a fly when he lifted Wess up. Ignoring the annoying Num, he continued his conversation with Grewen as though Wess had never been in the room. “Though the implication was that I had planned it. Why would I create a Council to unite Australis only to destroy it? I’m trying to rebuild our world, not overthrow it.”

  “The Del’Unday would disagree with you. So would the servants of Darkmere.” Grewen also ignored the body above them. “It is well known that you have been displeased with the Council’s progress over the past many years and have been pushing for a more aggressive response to Darkmere. Because of this, you were seen as a threat to the Council’s power, and likewise the Council was a threat to you.”

  “Disagreements that have been blown out of proportion.” Ambrosius dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “The Council did not understand Darkmere like I do. He extends branches of friendship that are laced with poison thorns.”

  Grewen continued his analysis of the situation. “The fact that your conflicts are publicly well known will make it difficult to persuade others to believe that you are not behind this disaster. In addition, your history of conflicts with Alchemists, Del’Unday, and in the Dovenar Civil War has crippled your persona in many ways.”

  “And you Grewen, where do you stand on my character?”

  “I believe you are a man of many challenges and responsibilities. I fought alongside you during the Civil War and have killed for your cause. I have watched as you have taken justice into your own hands when others would not. You are a man who has had everything and yet has nothing to show for it. You are my friend and an honorary Ki-Ov’Unday family pod member. I see no reason you would lie to me. So I will continue to trust you until it is proven otherwise.”

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  “But be aware that the evidence is starting to stack up against you,” Grewen continued. “You have nothing but your character to stand on at this point. And there is still the issue of your memory. Truth be known, you haven’t even proven to yourself that you didn’t destroy the temple in a fit of rage.”

  Ambrosius took a deep breath and slowly let it out as he thought about the comment, before looking over to see Thorik and Brimmelle stepping into the doorway.

  “Brimmelle,” Wess managed to get out as he gasped for air.

  Brimmelle stumbled back a step and grabbed the door-frame with one hand. “By the Rune of Reason, what is the meaning of this?” Brimmelle shouted up to Wess, who was lying on the ceiling.

  Ambrosius looked up and casually lowered Wess to the stone floor. Floating down, Wess tried to look in control by holding Ambrosius’ staff before him. Once on his own feet, he backed up toward Thorik and Brimmelle.

  Wess explained to the other two Nums what he had heard. “He’s made many enemies and killed before. This isn’t his first time. He confessed to these crimes.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to spend some more time on the ceiling.” Ambrosius eyed the spot where Wess had been. He was already in a bad mood about being accused of the murders and his patience was getting thin with Wess’ incessant accusations.

  Wess backed up into the doorway, next to Thorik and Brimmelle. “We’re getting out of here before he kills the rest of us.” Glancing over at Grewen, his hands were shaking. “Or we get eaten by that one.”

  “Nah, I don’t really care for Nums. Too stringy.” Grewen smirked, picking at his teeth as though something was between them.

  “Give me that.” Thorik snatched the iron staff out of Wess’ hands before he hurt himself.

  Without a weapon for defense, Wess turned and bolted down the hallway, followed quickly by Brimmelle.

  As the Fir’s footsteps faded off, Thorik walked over to Ambrosius and leaned the dark metal staff against the table. “This is yours.” He then turned to leave the room. Stopping on his way out, Thorik stared into the empty corridor before him while addressing Ambrosius. “I hope you found what you came for.” Standing up straight, he pulled his shoulders back, clasped his hands together behind his back, and gave a deep sigh. “We found Emilen in her old living quarters, if you happen to be curious as to her fate. She and Gluic are now preparing our beds for the night in the main hall. We will be heading home to Farbank at sunrise.” And with that, he left the Mori room.

  Ambrosius glared at Grewen over the giant’s last comment. “This is not a good time for you to be joking around.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Nums take things so seriously. Are you sure they aren’t related somehow to the Del’Unday? We never did come to an agreement on the family trees.”

  “This is not the time to continue our debate over the lineage of species.” The pressure from the day was getting to him and he rubbed both eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “I need to get the word out that the Council is destroyed and call a meeting of the remaining leaders. We must address this threat from Darkmere before he attacks again.”

  “Perhaps you don’t understand. The first sighting of you will probably create a mob that will hunt you down. You may very well be an outlaw. A wanted criminal. Already convicted and sentenced by all the northern provinces.”

  Ambrosius shook his head in disbelief, “It can’t be that bad. I have been a Head of State or Council Member my entire life. They wouldn’t dare accuse me so quickly without any proof. I think you underestimate the following I have.”

  “And I think you underestimate Darkmere’s ability to influence others. Perhaps you should know that he is scheduled to speak somewhere in Woodlen.”

  “Denrick Copperman won’t let it happen. His loyalties are with me.”

  “Denrick invited him.”

  Ambrosius
was disheartened. His face went cold and his eyes searched for an answer. “We need to go there and confront him.”

  “You’re going to confront Darkmere during his visit? How do you intend to find out where he will be? Woodlen is a large province with several cities. You can’t just show your face around there to ask questions. And last time I checked, Unday’s were only allowed as slaves or gladiators.” Grewen’s fist hit the stone table a few times to add emphasis to his last few words. The pounding echoed out the doorway and down the hallway.

  Ambrosius stood up and grabbed his staff, which he raised and pointed up toward Grewen’s large face. “I don’t know how I will find out where he is, but I must,” he argued. “I have nothing to lose at this point, do I? Darkmere has destroyed everything in my life up to this point. I will not sit back and let him win.”

  “Win? Is this about you winning? Is this just a continuation of the Civil War to you? Or worse, some out of control rivalry?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” Ambrosius lowered his voice and weapon. “I mean win, as in him taking over Australis in a cruel dictatorship. If he succeeds everyone will give up their own independence and beliefs in order to follow his. You know this.”

  Ambrosius sat back down. “I can understand how people hate me for the things I’ve done. I also have had great friction with many cultures. But I have never forced them to change their ways to follow me. I’ve only asked them to understand and accept other beliefs.”

  Leaning forward onto the table, he looked at the giant’s leathery face. “I need to confront Darkmere head on.”

  “Again I will ask, how will you walk freely inside the Dovenar Wall of Woodlen to find out where he will be? You are too well known, and will be captured immediately. I’d help, but Ov’Undays can’t enter the land. Only humans and Polenums are free to walk about.”

  Ambrosius shot a quick look at Grewen who returned a slow look back to the man’s calculating eyes.

  Grewen leaned forward and softened his deep powerful voice the best he could, “They just left here with ill feelings and they are heading downstream in the morning. How do you plan to turn that around?”

  “I don’t know. But I must. Too many lives are depending on me.”

 

  Chapter 18

  Turning Point