Fate of Thorik

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

By the time the small group neared the Dovenar Wall, surrounding the province of Woodlen, Ambrosius was more furious than ever. He had played back every one of Darkmere’s attacks on him and his family’s life over and over again. Visions of his wife and her death flashed through his mind, as well as the battle to save his son. He recalled various arguments of their youth and how they escalated into a Civil War that ended with the horrors of the Battle of Maegoth. Memories of the day when Darkmere killed the King caused Ambrosius to tighten his fists. An endless line of death and pain existed every time he thought about his nemesis.

  He had instructed Draq to fly home to see if the claim of his son could be true, but Draq would not leave Ambrosius on the eve of battle. Protection of Ambrosius was his primary reasoning, besides he never turned down an opportunity to enjoy a good fight.

  “It’s conceivable that Ericc has been seen,” Draq admitted.

  Already furious, Ambrosius snapped back at Draq, “How is that possible? You have him protected away from civilization.”

  “He has run off twice before, but we have located him with my son’s help and brought him back. No harm was done,” Draq responded.

  Ambrosius’ voice deepened as he addressed his winged friend. “No harm? If he has been seen and identified by any of Darkmere’s vultures, his life is in danger along with your family.” Fuming over this new information, he asked, “How could you let this happen?”

  “Ericc loathes being confined and refuses to follow anyone’s rules but his own. He’s much like his father in that regard,” Draq spit back with a chilled tone as he distanced himself from the E’rudite and flew over the treetops.

  The dragon’s words only added fuel to the E’rudite’s anger as he stomped through the forest.

  The walk toward the Dovenar Wall had given Thorik and Grewen time to think clearly. Walking into the city of Pyrth was not a good decision for any of them. Their attempts to convince Ambrosius of this were wasted as he had already made up his mind.

  Draq flew high overhead to warn them of traps, but apparently no one had planned for a frontal assault by an E’rudite, a dragon, a Mognin, and two young Polenums. Draq had not led them down the winding stream that Thorik had taken. Instead, he gave them a more direct route to the front gate.

  Ambrosius approached the Dovenar Wall gates as the locals moved out of the way and the guards approached. It was an odd sight to be seen as a well-known dignitary, now outlaw, walked up defiantly with a huge Ov’Unday and two little Nums in tow.

  Emotions were high as the guards loaded their arrows in their bows along the upper catwalk of the wall. A small group of military personnel broke up a quick huddle as the leader motioned for a squad of men to stand on each side of the gate’s entrance.

  Avanda held onto Thorik’s hand and couldn’t believe the level of focus everyone was giving them. She had been the center of attention before, but never by such a tense group.

  Thorik looked at Grewen for reassurance that they wouldn’t be sent to death for this. Grewen responded with a shrug that informed him that he didn’t know what would happen.

  They both continued in their attempts to talk Ambrosius out of this approach all the way to the gate, which was now lined across the top with guards and a few dozen more on the ground in his way. In the center, Sergeant Borador stood with his hand raised to stop Ambrosius. Thorik recognized him from his first crossing into Pyrth and was not looking forward to meeting him again.

  “By the local authorities of Pyrth and the province of Woodlen, you are hereby ordered to surrender yourself for crimes against the Dovenar Kingdom,” the sergeant ordered.

  “Then it is crimes against myself, for I am the Dovenar Kingdom authority.” Ambrosius commanded, without affecting his stride. “Now get out of my way!”

  The sergeant asked again for Ambrosius to stop with no results. “Prepare to fire on my command!” he shouted at the rows of archers on the wall in hopes of making his point clear to Ambrosius. It did not, and the sergeant was not going to allow the most notable criminal ever known to just stroll through his gates. “Fire!” he finally shouted. The sounds of bowstrings twanged as they released their arrows.

  Grewen quickly leaned over the Nums to protect them from any arrows coming their way. However, it wasn’t needed, for halfway through their flight the arrows took a sudden turn away from Ambrosius and went instead toward the guards in front of him. The military group panicked and tried to get out of the way as the arrows shot into their legs and arms during their escape. The E’rudite powers of Ambrosius were stronger than they had been in some time and they were charged with energy from his anger at Darkmere.

  Sergeant Borador stood firm in the center of the two gates waiting for Ambrosius. He had easily evaded the oncoming arrows with a few quick turns of his body. Sliding the broad sword out of its sheath, he grasped it firmly with both hands. “I will enjoy this.” He pointed the end of the sword directly at the approaching fixated man.

  The rest of the guards ran or crawled to safety behind the second open gate as Borador gave his next order to them. “Lower both gates,” he said once Ambrosius was past the first one.

  Both gates came crashing straight down, locking Sergeant Borador and Ambrosius in a cage.

  Grewen saw the falling gate but was unable to reach it before it had hit the ground. The gate was quickly locked into place with many metal beams preventing Grewen from lifting it back up. Once he realized this, he grabbed the gate’s thick iron rods and tried to pull them apart. Welded horizontal rods provided extra strength to the gate making his attempts very difficult. The giant Mognin pulled with all of his might as the bars slowly bent, snapping of weld joints could be heard over the creaking of metal as he slowly increased the size of the opening.

  Thorik yelled through the gate, “Ambrosius, there’s too many of them above you on the wall. Get out of there!”

  Ambrosius walked toward Sergeant Borador and glanced at the outstretched shining metal blade in front of him. He finally stopped as he heard the rumbling of guards, preparing for their own assault on him from the catwalk above.

  Sergeant Borador had him within his snare of fifteen-foot thick walls topped with heavy armaments and thick rod iron gates on each side. At his call, a hailstorm of spears, arrows, and boiling oils would flood down on top of Ambrosius. His captive was trapped. The E’rudite was his.

  “I was told to take you alive, but I can live with the consequences of your death.” Borador raised his masterful sword over his head to attack the silent prisoner.

  Ambrosius abruptly raised his arms out to his sides. His fingers fanned out in his right hand while he grasped his wooden staff in his left.

  Fractions of time felt like long frozen moments as everyone began to feel the enormous power building within the E’rudite.

  “Fire!” Borador shouted, causing a launch of a hundred projectiles toward Ambrosius from above.

  It was at that moment, the walls on both sides of the E’rudite’s outstretched arms exploded with fury, shattering the individual blocks into small shards of flying debris. The gate and catwalk behind the sergeant also erupted away from them sending sharp broken metal rods into the distance.

  The guards that once stood on the wall had been catapulted a great distance along with the wall fragments; some landed on roofs of buildings while others were crushed from tumbling blocks. Limbs and clothes were ripped from guards at the time of the detonation, as they flew through the air and struck other military personnel that happened to be in the area.

  The devastation to the walls and the surrounding area was immense. Dust from the eruption of power started to settle on the traumatized environment. Every structure in the vicinity had taken some level of damage from the E’rudite’s blast, as the survivors began to slowly move about in confusion.

  Sergeant Borador stood, paralyzed with fear, as he realized the grand force that had just been wielded. He no longer stood in a cage of strength, but instead he was encircled with
waist high rubble. The strong hold he had on his sword, still over his head, began to weaken under his own trembling.

  Reflexively, Borador moved to the side as Ambrosius started his walk forward again, but the military leader had a last moment burst of courage and took a large swipe with his weapon at the passing man.

  The sword struck at Ambrosius’ back only to be stopped by an invisible shield, just a few hairs widths prior to hitting him.

  Ambrosius glanced over at a large piece of wall that had only fallen twenty yards from them. He enlisted his powers to pull it toward them at a great speed, as though it had been kicked by an invisible giant ten-fold the height of Grewen. Just missing Ambrosius’ back, the stone slab grabbed Borador in its flight and struck a building on the opposite side.

  Ambrosius never looked back to see Grewen bending the gate apart, or Thorik and Avanda screaming at him to stop before it was too late. He only focused on what was before him.

  He had been in Pyrth enough to know exactly where the amphitheater was located. The most direct route would be through the market place and then a line of government buildings.

  Draq screeched into the dysfunctional military courtyard with air acrobatics and assaults on armed soldiers and guards along the walls and rooftops. Ensuring not to steal Ambrosius’ thunder, he had waited intently for the first explosion before starting his attack. Flying just feet over the wall’s catwalk, guards jumped off both sides to find safety. Those that didn’t jump were grabbed during the dragon’s passing and tossed over into the river.

  The archers fired rounds of arrows and watched in vain as they could not penetrate the silver dragon’s scales. However, if any of the large arrows that the ballistae shot at Draq were to hit, he would have been knocked out of the air. Fortunately for Draq, his speed and agility prevented their ability to properly aim such weapons.

  A good battle rejuvenated Draq. Natural and instinctive in every way, it was what he was born to do. He teased the rooftop soldiers with false injuries as he plummeted toward the ground only to pull up at the last second causing them to jump from their perches. He enjoyed seeing the fear in their eyes.

  Ambrosius firmly walked forward forgetting about his friends as Grewen continued to bend the bars on the remaining outside gate. His thoughts were primarily on his son as well as the destruction and death he had seen over the years, all caused by Darkmere. “This madness must stop, and it must happen today.”

  Storming forward he reached the closed wooden doors that led to the commercial market area. The few guards that tried to defend the city were quickly disposed of with flick of the E’rudite’s fingers, as he advanced toward the heavy wide oak doors. With a clap of his hands the doors exploded away from him sending missiles of splinters in every direction but his own.

  All went silent as the dust settled and the victims of the attack began to shake off their shock.

  Empty bent door hinges clung to the block wall as the E’rudite entered the next area that was covered in wood chips, splinters, and dust. Local residents screamed and ran from the destroyed doors as well as the powerful man who emerged from it.

  Merchants and patrons rushed out of Ambrosius’ path while he marched his way across the large market area toward the steps of the old and decrepit Taxation building. Never veering from his course, he removed shacks and toppled wagons that lay before him. Nothing stood long which suggested him diverting from his route. Approaching the series of government buildings, he vaguely recognized some of the officials scattering from the area. He only saw one last obstacle in his path between Darkmere and himself. Reaching his arms out and squeezing his fists, a high-pitched wave of energy shot forward, striking and imploding the ancient vine covered building. Crumbling before him, a dust cloud rolled high into the air as rats scurried for new hiding places.

  Ambrosius stepped up to the top of the rubble as the dust cleared and the ringing in his ears began to subside. Once it did, he began to hear screaming of men, women, and children. Thorik and Grewen could also finally be heard from the market. They had broken through the gate and were running up to him while Avanda had stopped to help a small child out from under a collapsed wooden roof.

  In a nightmarish sensation, he looked behind him to see his friends as they approached, begging him to stop. Past them he saw a market place in ruin as injured people made their way to safety. Children cried while blood dripped down their bodies from cuts and deep gashes caused by flying wooden splinters.

  It was a terrible sight of innocent people bloody and broken. A tornado of anger had caused pain to everyone in its path. Nearly a third of the market buildings had been severely damaged as distressed residents reached out from under rubble in a plea for help.

  “What have you done?” Thorik screamed at Ambrosius.

  Ambrosius came out of his loathing trance, looking at his trail of destruction all the way from the front gate. It was horrific and he was distressed in his realization that he had done this to the people he was trying to help.

  As the dust finally settled, he turned back around to see the amphitheater filled with injured people from the devastation he had caused. Beyond the crowd was the stage where Darkmere stood, posing as the Terra King.

  “I told you he would come for you! Rise, my family, and take him down!” The Terra King pointed at Ambrosius.

  The audience members quickly turned into a mob as they stood up on their benches, blocking Ambrosius’ view of Darkmere. Picking up stones from the destroyed building, they began throwing them at him as they crowded around.

  Stones were easily deflected, but Ambrosius had to choose how many more lives he was willing to put in danger to capture or kill his enemy. At the same time, he had come this far and to stop just feet away from this barbaric killer would be a waste. How many lives would he save by killing him on this day?

  He continued to hear Thorik and Grewen yelling for him to stop. But the damage was done and he began to push toward the stage as the mob was pushed back against his invisible powers. All he needed was a clear view of Darkmere to incapacitate him, so he continued to press forward as best he could without causing any more injuries. Tempted to simply swipe the crowd off to the side in order to end the Terra King’s deception, he elected to avoid causing anymore injuries or deaths with such an aggressive move.

  The mob continued to grow in size as they screamed and smashed rocks against the E’rudite’s invisible protective shield. It had no effect on Ambrosius, or his shield. His mind was still focused on the man on stage.

  Additional people arrived from the direction of the market place as they surrounded Grewen. They turned into a second mob as they approached with weapons and ropes. Military forces had shown up with large nets and shackles to capture the uninvited Ov’Unday. Grewen turned his back to Ambrosius to deal with his own immediate threat.

  Draq landed behind Grewen in an attempt to scare off the gathering of humans and Nums. “Ambrosius will take out that other group before he goes after Darkmere. You and I can take out this one.” Draq was clearly enjoying the chaos and battle. His Del’Unday roots were showing through his impenetrable scales.

  Grewen’s choice to fight would cause the death to the frail humans and Polenums. His opportunity to escape had been closed off with lines of archers along the wall that separated the market place from the military courtyard. He realized that he had been trapped and that surrendering was the only way to survive without killing someone. “This fight will have to take place at another time. I will not harm these people.”

  Thorik looked at him in despair. “No, Grewen. Don’t give up. Run for it. Get out while you can.”

  Grewen looked over at Draq as the crowd moved toward them. “Take Ambrosius to safety, and then go to Pelonthal to save Brimmelle. They will have to use the River-Green Road to get to Southwind. If I can escape I will meet you there.”

  “I will not let these Fesh take you into slavery.” Draq began to move toward the crowd to attack. His eyebrows lowered
and his teeth began to show in a successful attempt to intimidate the locals.

  “No more death today, my friend. No more.” Grewen extended his arm to his side, preventing Draq from charging them. “I will be okay. Save Ambrosius.” He nodded to Draq, indicating that it would be fine and to do as he asked.

  “See you in Pelonthal.” Draq lifted off to fly over to Ambrosius.

  Grewen looked down at Thorik. “Disappear and blend in. You will be difficult to find in this city. Men think all Nums look alike.” He gave a halfhearted grin as he nudged him back into the crowd.

  The mob attacked. Grewen stood still as shackles and chains removed his freedom of movement. He looked up from his newly applied metal neck braces and watched as Thorik found Avanda in the back of the crowd that cheered the capture of this twelve-foot beast.

  Meanwhile, Ambrosius carefully pushed his way forward and opened up a gap to see the stage again. This time it was empty with no signs of Darkmere’s exit. There were too many options to check them all as Ambrosius looked around for a clue. But it was too late, for Darkmere had escaped.

  The Terra King’s followers continued to tighten around him as the ones in front were being pressed against the invisible barrier. He watched as several of them gasped for air from the pressure of the crowd. Finally one passed out and fell, only to be replaced by another body being pushed to the front.

  Ambrosius realized that even by standing still he was hurting these people. Civilians that were doing nothing more than protecting their families from the obvious threat, himself. “Attempting to explain to them that the Terra King is the threat would be wasted energy after what I have done.” He muttered to himself. “What have I done? I allowed the end to justify the means, just as Thorik had said I would.”

  Draq flew overhead. “Bust out of this Ambrosius. Where to next?”

  Ambrosius was starting to feel sick with regret and disappointment. “Can you lift me?”

  “For a short distance.” Draq looked up at the row of stores behind the back of the stage. “I can easily get you over the buildings for you to continue your pursuit.”

  “No,” he replied and looked back toward the front gate. “Back to the woods.”

  “I don’t understand. We haven’t caught Darkmere yet.” Draq looked at the mob around his friend. “And I know you can get out of this situation. Why leave now?”

  “Can you or not?” he asked again.

  “I can,” the reflective dragon responded, frustrated that the attack was over without a victory.

  “Then do so.” Raising his staff horizontally above him, he held it tightly with both hands.

  Draq reached down and grabbed the staff, lifting Ambrosius off the ground. The vacuum of the E’rudite’s absence caused a wave of people to flood into the center.

  As they lifted over the market place, Grewen could be seen chained up by the second gathering with the support of many brightly colored military uniformed men. Thorik and Avanda on the other hand were nowhere to be found.

  “What have I done?” Ambrosius asked Draq as he looked at the destruction that he had caused.

  “You were trying to save them from Darkmere’s impending wrath,” replied Draq who was working hard to keep them in flight.

  “At what cost? At the cost of those I’m trying to save?”

  Arrows shot from the ground and tops of walls as they escaped the city limits. Those that hit Draq’s scales bounced off with no effect. The same could be said about those hitting Ambrosius’ energy shield.

  Although they were not fast, they were able to fly into the woods far enough to find temporary safety. It would take some time for the men to cross the rivers and streams to catch up to them.

  Ambrosius commanded Draq to fly home and find out if his son was missing. He needed to know if he was chasing a ghost in another one of Darkmere’s games. While he did that, Ambrosius would work his way down to Pelonthal before Brimmelle was lost forever in the Southwind Mines.

  “Meet me in Pelonthal with good news of my son.” Ambrosius raised his hand to signal farewell to his companion who was flying away.

  Lowering his hand back to his side, he sighed. “Grewen, dear friend, what harm have I put you into?” He began to walk toward Lake Luthralum as he continued his conversation with the giant, who was now many miles away. Grieving would have to come later, for Ambrosius needed to sustain his hope. It was still up to him to prevent the next major attack, which would happen in just five weeks. Everything rested on his shoulders to find out where it would happen and to prevent it.

  “Now it will be up to Thorik to show his valor and wit to save you, Grewen. The Num is special, you will see. He will rise to the occasion. Yes, it is his time to shine,” he told his friend silently into the breeze, hoping the giant would be safe.