Ambrosius tossed Darkmere’s disk to the center of the granite table, for all to see. It was still attached to the broken necklace that had fallen from its owner’s neck. “Someone at this meeting has been spreading Darkmere’s poison into our thoughts.”
The Grand Council erupted with anger and accusations against one another.
Beltrow put a stop to all conversation as he hammered his fist on the table. “Blasphemy!”
Ambrosius felt the floor below him shake as he saw Beltrow still standing with his hands on the table, frozen with frustration.
Across the room, the E’rudite caught a glimpse of Irluk, the Death Witch, waiting for her new arrivals. Her swirling appearance of ash and coal-colored debris floated a few feet above the temple’s floor. Her presence was a sure sign that death would soon be at hand.
A thunderous crack from above caused him to look up and see the neck of the statue begin to crack and fall. Irluk faded from Ambrosius’ view as he raised his staff in the air. Using his E’rudite powers, he pushed with all his might against the on-coming mountainside. He pushed up into the air against the falling face as it rocked back and forth between nature’s gravity and his powers. What felt like minutes to Ambrosius was only seconds to those in the temple as they started to panic.
Streams of glowing fiery red lava shot from the now larger crack below the King’s neck. It was too much for even Ambrosius to hold up any longer. The giant face lurched forward and came screaming down at him with the light of the flaming magma surrounding it. There was no time to run or escape.
Time slowed as Ambrosius watched his colleagues run for cover into the chest of the Mountain King statue, but time was not their friend. He stood alone on the far side of the entrance to the temple while the rest pushed their way out.
He braced for the impact in the fraction of the second that was given by holding his staff, in both hands, above him and creating a shield of energy around himself. But time wasn’t on his side either as molten rock crashed through the ceiling and struck the side of his face and chest, knocking him to the floor just as the face of the Mountain King breached through the glass ceiling.
All went silent for Ambrosius as he felt himself being crushed by the rock face. His energy shield pushed against his body and then snapped him out of the Temple, tumbling through the air. Wind fanned the flames of his burning flesh as he was hurled across to the far side of the lake.
He landed with a crash into the side of the bridge that spanned the lake’s outlet into the river. Sending stone fragments of the railing in every direction, he bounced like a limp doll down to the ground underneath the bridge. Ambrosius had lost control of his powers long enough during the impact to feel his legs slap against the stone before he landed and rolled on the ground toward the lake.
Lying on the shoreline of where the lake met the river, he was in extreme pain. It was overpowering, unlike anything he had ever felt before. Lungs crushed from the crash, he gasped for air. The side of his face and chest were burnt and he couldn’t move one of his legs.
Ambrosius struggled to roll over to look across the lake at the Mountain King statue. It was a horrific sight as the steaming glowing blood of the mountain poured out of his neck and down the front of his body. The staircase windows extruded lava as it worked its way down to the city. He lay there watching for quite some time, realizing the horror of what just occurred.
Incapable of getting up, he pondered his fate until a cloaked figure in a small rowboat pulled up to shore. The person helped him into the boat and covered him with a blanket. They headed under the damaged bridge and then downstream. Ambrosius fell in and out of consciousness as the river ran down the center of the river cut gorge before opening up to periodic wide shorelines and occasional rapids.
As they continued, the rapids picked up again and tossed the little boat around in circles until it finally capsized, ejecting both of them into the fast moving water. Still in deep pain, Ambrosius worked to stay afloat as he watched the other person swim toward the boat that was quickly moving out of Ambrosius’ reach downstream.
With the cloak now off the other person’s head, the E’rudite could see the face of the one who saved him. It was a servant of the Mountain King’s Temple, the one who had been knocked over during Volnic’s outburst. Her eyes reached out to him as she grabbed hold of the boat and watched Ambrosius sink under the water.
He struggled to make his way back to the surface as he fought with everything he could against the undertow. He lost his bearings until he cracked his head against a large object. Finding the rocky shoreline, he climbed his way out of the water and onto a large smooth boulder. He looked back to find the cloaked figure and the boat were gone.
Fate of Thorik Page 43
