Sacrifice of Ericc

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

Surod imploded with a crash that echoed throughout Go’ta Gorge. The ribs of the structure were gone, as well as the upper section that had looked like a hand reaching to the sky. It was all destroyed, now nothing more than a pile of rubble.

  Brimmelle held Avanda tight in disbelief of losing his mother. The shock of her death left him unable to speak as he attempted to cope. Grewen’s approach to console him wasn’t even noticed by the dazed Num.

  Firmly controlled by his good arm, Thorik’s spear was still within striking distance as he pointed it at the Blothrud’s face. “What do you mean by blaming me? How did I ruin anything when it was you who deceived us?”

  Santorray sat up, brushing more dust off his shoulders. “First of all, if you don’t get that spear out of my face, I’m going to break it over your head.”

  Knowing Santorray’s quick reflexes and long reach, Thorik backed up. “You killed Ericc!”

  “No, he’s not dead.”

  Thorik was stunned by the comment. “I saw you. Ericc died in your grasp as you held him for Darkmere. You’ve betrayed us all.”

  “I grabbed him to pull him away from his attack on Darkmere. To help him escape, whether he wanted to or not. But he vanished as the wall fell onto us.”

  “I don’t believe you!”

  “I don’t care!” the Blothrud barked back.

  “I know you killed my grandmother! That I saw with my own eyes. How could you? After everything we’ve been through?”

  “If you hadn’t shown up, this wouldn’t have happened, and she would have been fine.”

  “Then you would have murdered Ericc. How is that less of a betrayal?”

  “No one would have died if you had kept your Num nose out of it.”

  “You don’t consider sacrificing Ericc as a death?”

  “Not if I had stabbed him with this!” Santorray pulled out the once virgin dagger, still covered with Gluic’s wet blood.

  “Varacon,” Bryus said from the back as he approached the Blothrud, stopping once as a facial twitch froze up the rest of his body. “Is it truly her?”

  “Yes.”

  Thorik looked back and forth between Santorray and Bryus. “What’s a Varacon?”

  Licking his lips, Bryus’ fingers wiggled in the air with the anticipation of touching the dagger. “Varacon, the virgin dagger,” he said to Thorik. “You know the song. Created for his love, hoping to never see the day, when his blade is used, life won’t fade away…” Humming the next chorus, he smiled as he waited for them to sing along.

  Thorik was not in the singing mood. “My grandmother is dead and we’re talking about a dagger that has its own song?”

  Looking at Santorray, Bryus laughed and slapped the Blothrud on his ass. “You fooled everyone, didn’t you? Even Darkmere. Pretty clever for a Blothrud, I must say.”

  Thorik turned the spear toward Bryus. “Who are you?”

  “Bryus Grum is the name. Prominent of EverSpring. Well, former Prominent.” His outstretched hand to Thorik went without being shaken.

  “What do you know about Santorray’s betrayal?” Thorik asked.

  “Oh, yes, very clever. Nearly pulled a fast one on everyone.” Bryus’ words were slightly slurred and he breathed hard as he tried to get them out correctly. The attack from Civej had done more damage than he was letting on.

  Thorik pushed the spear up toward Bryus. “Enough with the games!” he yelled, gripping his weapon tightly, waking the dragon’s unconscious soul from the attack by Bredgin.

  Hot dragon’s breath slowly poured off the end of spear with a slight sulfur smell to it. A low growl came from deep within the spear. Thorik knew the creature inside had returned.

  Thorik made sure he had Bryus’ attention as he poked the end of the spear near the man’s face. “What are you two talking about?”

  Bryus Grum’s eyes crossed as he looked at the end of the spear, now only inches from his nose. “By the powers of Ergrauth, I never thought I’d live to see with my own eyes such a sight. Is this the Spear of Rummon?”

  Thorik held it firm and ready to strike. “Yes.”

  “Amazing!” Bryus was overjoyed at the Num’s answer. “Tell me, where did you find it? Who had it all these years? What powers does it possess? Do tell, do tell.”

  Thorik was getting more upset as Bryus became more overcome with excitement. Not getting anywhere with his conversation, he turned the focus back to the Blothrud. “Santorray, I demand to know what’s going on!” Thorik shouted.

  Santorray stood up, holding the dagger before him. “This is Varacon.”

  “Oh, yes, it certainly is,” Bryus said with glee, as his facial tick momentarily froze his body.

  Santorray ignored Bryus’ commentary and continued. “I came here to stab Ericc with it, in front of Darkmere, to ensure the dark lord saw the boy’s death.”

  Thorik shook his head. “No, you’ve been working for Darkmere all this time.”

  “It is true that I worked for the dark lord once, a long time ago. However, I led him to believe I was still loyal to him. It was the only way I could execute my plan.”

  Bryus slapped his knee at the joke. “What a ruse.”

  Thorik found no joke in the Blothrud’s words. “You were planning this the entire time.”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “That’s why you stayed with us, because you knew we’d lead you to him.”

  “Correct.” Santorray’s answers where sharp off his tongue. He was not pleased about Thorik ruining his plans.

  Bryus swiveled his head back and forth with excitement as he watched the volley of words being passed between them.

  “You used us.” Thorik’s hand, which held the spear, trembled with anger.

  “I did.”

  “Everything you told us was a lie.”

  “No, everything I told you was true.”

  “How can that be? Why would a friend of Ambrosius try to kill his son?”

  “For the sake of Ericc,” Santorray grumbled as he clinched his teeth.

  “Killing him would save him?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Bryus clapped. “Keep going, lad. You’re almost there.”

  Thorik’s focus was so intent of Santorray, he didn’t even hear the man’s words. “How is Ericc’s death considered to be the same as saving him?”

  “I was only going to kill his body, not his soul.”

  “And how did you plan on accomplished this?”

  Santorray lifted the dagger higher. “With Varacon, the soul snatcher.”

  Bryus screamed with delight that the secret was out as he danced around and mumbled the song again to himself.

  Thorik looked at the bloody dagger as he pieced his thoughts together. “Your plan was to stab Ericc in front of Darkmere to make him believe that Ambrosius’ son was dead and prophecy had ended. Darkmere would then stop hunting Ericc. But what kind of soul deserves to be trapped in a weapon?”

  The Spear of Rummon grew hot only for a moment in Thorik’s hand to remind his master of its own fate. Tempted to change hands, he quickly felt the reminder of deep pain when he moved his broken arm.

  Santorray shook his head. “This was only to be a temporary exile; his soul would eventually be placed back into a new body. One that Darkmere would not see as a threat.”

  “How did you plan to do this?”

  “I don’t have that kind of power. I did my part; it would be up to…” Santorray realized he spoke more than he had planned.

  “Your part?” Thorik asked. “Who are you working with? Who was to complete the second part of this mission?”

  “We are friends of Ambrosius. We look out for his affairs.”

  Thorik demanded to know more. “Who do you refer to? Who sent you on this mission?”

  Pulling back his shoulders, Santorray looked into the Num’s serious eyes. “My contact is Draquol.”

  “Draq? He’s alive?”

  “Yes.”

  “We are friends with Draq. We trave
led with him while venturing with Ambrosius. Why didn’t you come forward and let me know what you were planning?”

  “We couldn’t trust you knowing. It was too large of a risk. Darkmere and his son have many ways of getting information out of people. Which is why you must never discuss this or write of it in your journals. No evidence must exist of his escape. Your journals in the wrong hands could be dangerous. The boy’s life would be at risk if Darkmere found out.”

  “But by not telling me, you’ve killed my grandmother.”

  Bryus stepped in between them. “No, no. Only her body, not her soul.”

  Looking the blade over, the Num wondered if it could be true. Could his grandmother’s soul be trapped inside the weapon? Reaching back with his good arm, he placed his spear in the loops along the side of his pack to store it. He then pulled his grandmother’s broken crystals from his pocket and recited the phrase she said to him. “Not an ending, just a fresh beginning in a new form. We will be carried to a greater purpose.”

  The words broke Brimmelle out of his intense trance of grief. “That’s what mother said about her broken crystal.”

  Thorik disagreed. “No, she was telling us about what she had seen for her own destiny. This dagger provides her an opportunity to move into a new body to fulfill a new purpose.” After dropping the crystals back in his pocket, Thorik reach up for the dagger, as Santorray allowed him to have it. “We will take the dagger back and you will extract her, just as you had planned to do for Ericc,” Thorik said to Santorray.

  Santorray picked rocks out of the hair on his legs as he shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere until I find Ericc and make sure he is safe. In spite of your interference, Darkmere still thinks I killed Ericc, for he knows not who attacked him. His search for the boy should end, unless Ericc resurfaces again. So, I need to reach him before that happens.”

  “I thought Darkmere was dead.”

  Santorray looked back over his shoulder at the rubble. “It will take more than that to end an E’rudite’s life. Ericc disappeared as the wall collapsed. So, he could be anywhere.”

  “How far can he travel like that?”

  Santorray was irritated that his search was starting all over again. “Depending on how far his E’rudite abilities have progressed, he could potentially have shifted locations to anywhere he has already been. He could have returned to the home along the Ki’Volney Lake, or to Rava’Kor in Southwind. Who knows, perhaps his ability only allowed him to jump past the next mountain ridge.”

  “But how about Gluic?”

  “I have my priorities, Thorik.” Stress of failing in his own mission came through his voice. “She’ll stay safe in Varacon, as long as you don’t draw new blood with it again.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Just don’t do it. I’m not an Alchemist!” Santorray barked.

  Bryus jumped in with excitement. “But I am! I can tell you why it shouldn’t draw blood, how it should be handled, how to keep her soul at ease, how to-”

  Thorik interrupted the man from going on and on. “Can you tell me how to release my grandmother from this dagger so she can live among us again?”

  A strong twitch held his face tight for a moment before he could speak. “Well, of course!”

  “Excellent.” Thorik held out the dagger toward Bryus. “Please do so,” he ordered with some urgency in his voice.

  “Not here.” Bryus laughed. “We need to go get Vesik first.”

  “Who is Vesik? Another Alchemist?”

  “No, no, silly Num. Vesik is a book. The book, for us in spell casting. Vesik is the master book of spells, created by Irluk herself.”

  “The Death Witch?”

  “Yes. Well, no. Before she became the Death Witch. When she was young and ruled magic across our lands.”

  “So, you have this book?”

  Bryus laughed. “No one has Vesik. It is of its own cognizance.”

  “Do you at least know where Vesik is?”

  “Of course, I know where it is. I’d have to be daft to even bring up the idea if I didn’t know where it was.”

  Thorik tucked the dagger away and turned to Santorray. “I’ve fulfilled my promise to Ambrosius. I’ve prevented Ericc’s sacrifice. In fact, no one will ever be sacrificed at Surod again. It is now time for me to take care of my own family.”

  “Understood, Sec,” Santorray replied, his tone had lowered as his temper faded. “You truly have the heart of a Blothrud. Fight for what’s right and you’ll do just fine.”

  “Are you sure you won’t come with us?”

  “No. I need to find out if Bredgin survived the collapse before I return to the valleys below.”

  Thorik nodded, before spitting in his hand and holding it out to Santorray. “Good luck in finding Ericc.”

  Santorray smiled, spit in his own hand, and shook the Nums little hand. “May Ovlan walk your path.”

  With that, they parted ways. Santorray climbed onto the rubble to start his dig, while Thorik led his group down the mountainside. The destroyed bridge was no longer an option to leave the area.

  “Where is Vesik located?” Thorik asked Bryus.

  “Govi Glade.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  Bryus nodded his head with a smile and twitch. “Yes, I wish that were true.”

  Chapter 41

  Strategies