Sacrifice of Ericc

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

Santorray burst into the main cabin to find Dare hiding the last bottle of saved Nectar. “You fool! Saving our skin is more important than a few bottles of liquor.”

  “Watch what ya say about the Irr. She don’t take kindly to insults.” Protecting the last bottle from hearing such words, he nuzzled it between his arm and chest. “There ain’t been a drink that has come near her. Ta call her liquor is like call’n ya a Fesh.”

  Eyes widened and lips raised on the Blothrud. “No one gets away with calling me a Fesh.”

  “And that’s why I didn’t. But now ya understand my meaning.” Dare worked his way across the room to the Blothrud. “Ta violate such grace with such loathsome words is not only pure evil, but it also sours the taste of the drink.”

  Blothruds had an exceptional sense of smell and Santorray was already overtaxed with Dare’s body odor. The man apparently didn’t believe in the health benefits of cleaning himself.

  “I don’t care how much you praise your drink, if you jeopardize my life again for something as dry as your Irr, I’ll rip you apart.”

  “Not dry, my Del friend.” Stepping up to the fierce creature, he leaned against the beast and looked up at him from under the Blothrud’s chin. “Nor sweet. Perfection can only be explained with a taste, then ya’ll understand.”

  Popping the cork, Dare embraced the fragrance rising from the open bottle before lifting it toward Santorray’s muzzle. “Inhale.”

  Keeping his stature straight, he couldn’t help but smell the perfume of the drink as he grabbed it. Powerful enough to remove Dare’s vile body odor from the air, and yet not overstated. It was a perfect blend of fruits and barley, which could be tasted by his palette before putting any in his mouth. His curiosity had been heightened.

  Dare smiled as he watched the Del’Unday on his virgin voyage into ecstasy. “Go on, take a sip. That’s all ya need.”

  Santorray looked down at the captain. “You seem awfully eager for me to drink this. Is this some type of poison?”

  “Watch ya words, beast! Give her back if ya ain’t gonna partake!”

  Pulling the bottle higher, out of reach from Dare, he opened his mouth and poured a swig in. Swirling it around in his mouth for a bit, he sighed with relaxation. “Why the hell did you let us throw the rest of those bottles off the ship?”

  “That’s what I been say’n.” Reaching up for the bottle, Dare felt quite justified by his actions during the battle.

  “Get your own,” the beast said. “This one is mine.”

  “Ya can’t drink a whole bottle of Irr by yourself.”

  “And who’s going to stop me? You?”

  “Na, it ain’t that. It’s just that it ain’t ever been done before. Too much of a good thing will kill ya.”

  “I’ve drunk my share before. I think I can handle one bottle.”

  Dare slapped the sides of his firmly stretched stomach which hung out before him. “I’ve been known to do me share as well. But never a whole bottle of the mistress Irr.”

  Hearing the celebration from within, Thorik opened the door and entered the room as Santorray gently poured the liquid across his long tongue. “Captain Mensley, the fires have been extinguished and it looks like smooth sailing ahead.”

  “Aye, lad.” Dare Mensley opened a second bottle and raised it in the air. “We all be safe and healthy now.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Thorik didn’t fully agree. “Well, Brimmelle’s under the weather. I don’t think sailing sits well with his stomach. I helped him to his cabin and Gluic is watching over him until he feels better.”

  “Ya did well out there today, young Num.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help in rescuing us from the mines.”

  “We be needing a toast to celebrate your escape.” Licking with anticipation, he placed his dry cracked lips over the outside of the glass and used his tongue as a plug inside the neck of the bottle to control the flow of the nectar.

  “Enjoy, I’ll leave you two to celebrate.” Thorik turned to exit.

  Gasping with pleasure after his first drink, Dare waved the Num back into the room. “Thorik, lad, come celebrate with us.” Raising the bottle, he grabbed Thorik’s hand and pushed the two together.

  “I don’t think my uncle would approve.”

  “Bloody hell, did ya not just escape from the Southwind Mines? The notorious Rava’Kor prison mines at that?”

  “I did. But I-“

  “But noth’n. Ya be a wanted Num now. High on the list of outlaws. You’re famous to all them that hate the Matriarch and her thugs that run dem mines.” Dare pushed the bottle up toward Thorik’s face.

  Thorik could see residual wetness and oily marks on the outside of the bottle’s mouth. Dare’s facial hairs collected near the end, while small pieces of food stuck on the inside of the bottle, left over from the captain’s tongue.

  Thorik looked up at Santorray, who was opening his mouth for another trickle of raindrops from his own bottle. The Blothrud’s red eyes were at half-mast and rolled slightly back into his head.

  Looking at a few floating specks in the bottle he held, Thorik questioned the safety of drinking it. “I’m not sure…“

  “Drink up!” Dare demanded.

  Lowering it quickly, Thorik cleaned the neck and open end of the bottle with his shirt. As dirty as his clothes were, he still felt it was cleaner than Dare’s leftovers. A quick swab of the inside of the bottle’s throat was an attempt to get the visual image of Dare’s tongue inside the bottle out of his mind. It didn’t work.

  Closing his eyes, Thorik lifted the bottle to his lips and poured a sip into his mouth. His taste buds came alive with this newfound experience. The toxic liquor went immediately to his head, providing a sense of euphoria. All fears immediately vanished. Life was wonderful. Not a care in the world existed. Vanished were the negative emotions and the regrets he had relating to Brimmelle and Ambrosius, as his mind focused on his senses of taste and smell.

  Dare reached for the bottle, but Thorik was too quick. He took another swig, this time twice the amount as the first time.

  “Not so fast, Num. Ya be lay’n flat if yur not careful.” The captain grabbed the bottle from Thorik who was attempting to wipe his mouth on his sleeve but missed and wiped his chin instead.

  Santorray’s glassy-eyed gaze led him over to the table in the center of the room, where he fell into one of the chairs. “This reminds me of the celebration after the Humoric victory.”

  “You be at that celebration, ya say?”

  Santorray nodded and raised his hand. “Front line. Couldn’t walk for a month afterward. But my arm allowed me to drink.”

  “It be me inn where ya all celebrated. Festive time it was. Even Ambrosius stored his staff that night and enjoyed the entertainment.”

  Thorik’s ears perked up, but his eyes struggled to do the same.

  Sloshing his head the wrong way, Santorray couldn’t find Dare as he talked to him. “Really? I thought we celebrated in a tattered rundown rodent infested abandoned castle keep.”

  Falling into the chair next to Santorray, Dare’s backside tooted in a low rumble. “Yep, she was one of a kind. Could hold the lot of ya and still have room fur more.”

  “You met Ambrosius?” Thorik asked.

  Dare was in the middle of a chug on the bottle, causing him to spit some of the liquid onto his chest. While wiping it back up with his fingers and licking them off, he answered. “More than met him. He’s a close friend. He trusts me with his life, he does.”

  Thorik took the bottle from Dare and wiped it clean with his other hand before taking a sip. “Not anymore.”

  “Why ya go saying that?”

  The room began to spin as Thorik struggled to stand up straight. Looking at the center captain of the several he viewed, he handed the bottle back to him. “Because I killed him.”

  Silence added to Thorik’s vertigo allowing him to focus on the spinning.

  Laughter roared within seconds as Dare and Sant
orray couldn’t contain themselves.

  Dare tried to stand, but quickly fell back into his seat. “Are ya listen’n to the little Num? He says he killed the mighty Ambrosius!”

  “Has he told you how he saved my life yet?” Santorray asked.

  “Really?” Laughing so hard, it was difficult to get the words out. “I hope dat I don’t fall on him and ‘urt him before he gets a chance ta save my life too.”

  Shaking off the effect of the nectar only created a headache for Thorik. “It’s true.” For a second he forgot what he was going to say next. “I killed Ambrosius to stop a flood that would have wiped you out.” Thorik tried to point at them, but was lucky to be in the general area. “So, you see. I have already saved your life once.”

  Laughter continued by Dare and Santorray while the captain kicked a chair over to the Num. “Have a seat, great flood stopper.”

  “No thank you. I’ll stand.” Thorik sat down, not associating his actions with his words.

  Dare leaned forward to give Thorik the bottle after his own sip. “So, tell me da truth. Is me old friend Ambrosius truly gone from the earth? Darkmere has no one to stop him now?”

  Without cleaning the mouth of the bottle, Thorik took a swig. “Yes, and it’s my fault that Ericc is now in danger. Ambrosius was right to do whatever it took to try to kill Darkmere when he had the chance. But I stopped him. And now Ericc’s days are numbered because of me.”

  Santorray belched. “No, it’s my fault. The prophecy of Ambrosius’ son taking Darkmere’s son is my fault. I put Ambrosius’ son into this in the first place, when he was a child. I’m the one that owes Ambrosius.”

  Dare removed the bottle from Thorik’s grasp. “No, it be my fault. I owes him.”

  Thorik’s body swayed as he waited for the captain to go on. “Why? What did…you do?”

  “I ain’t done nothin’, just feeling left out of the conversation.”

  All three roared with laughter until Thorik fell off his chair and crawled his way to the cabin’s exit. Using the door handle to lift himself to his feet, he opened the door and stumbled out.

  Seeing Avanda looking over the railing, he swaggered over to her. Placing a hand on her back, she jumped and pulled away.

  Thorik was surprised at the response, as he quickly retreated and lost balance, landing on the railing. “What’s the matter?”

  Avanda could smell the alcohol on his breath as the vapors filled the area. His words were slurred and eyes struggled to stay open and focused. It reminded her of Lucian at Rava’Kor. Her instincts kicked in; shoulders up, heart racing, and her back went tense. A flood of emotions ran through her as she struggled not to flee.

  “Get away,” she ordered. “Don’t touch me.”

  Confused, Thorik reached out to touch her arm. “It’s me…Thorik. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Flinching away, she wiped her skin where he had touched. “You’ve been drinking. I told you I don’t like it when you do that.”

  Thinking he had straightened himself up, he was actually leaning slightly backward at an odd angle. “You can’t tell me what I can and can do…can’t do. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

  Tightlipped, she gave two controlled nods. “Nor do you.” Turning, she walked away.

  “What does that mean? I don’t understand.”

  “Remember that.” She then walked through the doorway to the steps below.

  Attempting to follow her, he tripped and landed hard onto his shoulder. “Remember what?” Trying to stand, he toppled over onto his other side, where he rested as the cool evening breeze felt refreshing against his face. “Nor do you!” he said loudly, repeating her words back into the air.

  Grewen raised his head up from the lower deck. “Troubles, little man?” The giant leaned against the open hatch’s corner and rested his arms on the deck on two sides of the hatch trim.

  “No, why do you ask?”

  “Avanda just came down here in tears, and you’re curled up on deck, under the stairs.”

  “I’m sleeping out here, where I can breathe fresh air.”

  “I can smell you from here. Are you going to be sick?”

  Attempting to stand, Thorik bumped his head under the stairs to the ship’s wheel deck. “I’m fine.”

  “You’d be better off if you kept your distance from your two new friends.”

  “Santorray…Captain? Why? They’re nice to me. Having a toast to our escape.”

  “Just keep alert around Blothruds.”

  “What do you have against Santorray? He reminds me of…that Blothrud that helped you escape…from the Coliseum, last year.”

  “That’s because he is the same one.”

  “I knew it! He’s of good nature. He helped you and then he helped me flee from the mines. We’re lucky to have him.”

  “Seems a little too fortunate for us to have the only well-mannered Blothrud in all of Terra Australis.”

  Thorik had worked his way over to Grewen, fell against the giant’s shoulder, and slid down to the deck. “What do you have against Santor…torray? Why are you so standish…standoffish with him?”

  “Lessons learned, little man. The Del’Unday, in general, are difficult to understand. Tensions between our two species go back before the great Unday War.”

  Cuddling his back up against the warmth of Grewen’s arm, the Num relaxed. “The Tri-Species War?”

  “No, this was at a time when the Ovs and Dels first parted paths. When Hessik and Trewek ruled the lake valley. In youth, they were close allies, but everything changed when Ergrauth launched his forces past the Guardians and into our valley.”

  “Grab some paper and ink from my coffer. I haven’t written in my log for several days,” Thorik mumbled as he closed his eyes and backed up tighter against the giant’s arm.

  Grewen sighed as he recalled the ancient story. “The Blothrud Hessik ruled Corrock. He wished to take Ergrauth head on. A foolish notion. Corrock didn’t have the resources or strength to take on such an endeavor.”

  Calmness embraced Grewen’s face as he changed the focus of his story. “Trewek the Wise, a Mognin, ruled over Ovla’Mathyus. He was the architect of our current beliefs. He offered salvation in his city’s stronghold, an impenetrable fortress with endless resources to survive.”

  “Unfortunately, Blothruds would rather race toward death than to walk away to safety.” Grewen reached below and lifted up a covered basket of melons. Removing the cloth, he emptied its contents into his mouth, juice splattering the deck with each bite. “Many events followed that caused the friction to increase between our species and our clans. Blothruds have always blamed the Mognins for the downfall of Corrock and will continue to use it as a reason to see us suffer.”

  Soft snoring resonated from Thorik. It was difficult to know how much he had heard.

  Wiping his face with the blanket, Grewen snapped it clean and stretched it out over the Num.

  “Safe dreams, little man. You can add to your coffer of notes in the morning.”

  Chapter 13

  Rumaldo’s Port

  Thorik’s Log: April 21st of the 650th year.

  Captain Mensley has docked our ship in Thasque for trading, but our travels by water will end at our next stop in the city of Rumaldo. Ericc has escaped the Southwind mines and is headed toward Corrock to take revenge on Darkmere. We will gather supplies and attempt to cut him off before he reaches the Del’Unday city.