Essence of Gluic

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

Thorik and Avanda’s bodies had aged over a decade from the two attacks. Muscle spasms and aches filled their bodies, while their minds were groggy and confused. This time Bakalor had made certain to hurt them enough to prevent a further escape.

  Lying limp on the top of the stone column that stood before the demon’s throne, the two Nums reached out to each other in an effort to let the other one know they were still alive. Their bodies had betrayed them and left them without the strength to sit up. A handful of fingers interlacing would be all the physical reassurance they could give one another as they watched Bakalor sit in his mighty throne.

  “You are not to be consumed like the meal of a frenzied thrasher.” Bakalor produced an evil grin. “I will savor you two, enjoying each and every moment of life you have to give me.”

  “I can’t try again,” Avanda coughed out between cries of pain.

  “One more time,” Thorik said through his teeth, tightening his fingers entwined with hers. But her fingers loosened. “Avanda, don’t leave me. I’ll get us out of here.”

  “Not this time.” A tone of defeat was in her soft voice.

  “It’s not over.” Thorik spoke in spite of the pain he felt in his lungs every time he did so. But his body was not living up to his words as his fingers also began to let go of hers.

  Avanda could feel him slipping away. Unsure if this would be that last time she would talk to him, she attempted to move her head in order to look into his eyes. By the third attempt, she was exhausted, but successful. She could now see his face as his eyes struggled to open up. Knowing what her last words needed to be before she closed her own eyes and drifted off, she said, “I love you.”

  A loud crack of thunder came from above as storm clouds rolled along the ceiling of the cavern. This was quickly followed by an intense white light from the center of the cloud. Lightning flashed again as thunder snapped hard enough for Thorik and Avanda to feel the powerful vibrations against their bodies.

  From the center of the cloud a dark mass emerged, followed by a trail of nearly transparent figures. The long train headed down and then toward Bakalor.

  As they approached, it became apparent that the long procession line was a parade of new souls, brought down to be enslaved by the demon. But it wasn’t clear what was leading them down. The dark mass was more of a swirling of ash and debris, constantly changing its shape and form.

  Bakalor relaxed in his throne as the new souls were dropped into the already overcrowded cavern, turning completely invisible to the Nums as each spirit distanced themselves from the dark form, which had led them there. The demon waited patiently as the dark mass floated down near his throne after dropping off its cargo.

  Avanda’s face went rigid, staring at the object descending toward them. She had finally recognized who the mass was.

  “What is it?” Thorik felt the pain of each word in his chest.

  “The Death Witch,” Avanda said in a somber tone.

  The swirling mass advanced until it hovered over the arm of Bakalor’s enormous throne. Once stopped, the shape of the witch became obvious. Her long hair and flowing robes continued to blow from an unseen wind and her body was a whirlpool of floating burnt debris, but Avanda could identify her nonetheless. The Num had witnessed her once before when she, the Death Witch, Irluk, had taken her uncle, Wess.

  “Irluk.” Bakalor’s right rocky eyebrow raised. “You continue to keep my halls filled and my stomach full.”

  “These days are soon to end,” Irluk replied.

  “Really?” The demon leaned forward with interest. “What news have you heard on our plans?”

  “The living are fragmented. Bonds between cities and species have broken down. There is no cohesion, and no unification.”

  “Excellent.” Bakalor’s thin eyes looked into the distance as he plotted his next move. “When will this opportunity be taken advantage of?”

  “War is mounting. Ergrauth’s armies are on the move to attack the west.”

  Bakalor grinned at the thought. “I wish I could be on the surface to watch the end of days. So little remains before my triumphant escape from this prison.”

  “Our kingdom is near,” she said.

  “When will Lu’Tythis tower be ready to fall?”

  “It is a strong tower. Everyone you have sent is working on it.”

  Bakalor looked over the side of his armrest, as an area of rock flooring began to transform itself into a replica of Terra Australis. Miniature mountains rose under Bakalor’s powers as the grand lake Luthralum Tunia sunk down a bit.

  Hanging his finger over the lake area, Bakalor allowed the thick oil from his body to pour down until the lake-bed had been filled. Aside from color and clouds roaming over it, the miniature landscape was a perfect replica of Terra Australis. Triangular in shape, the replica ranged from Farbank in the northwest, to the Southwind mines in the south, and back up all the way through the Ergrauthian Valley of the Del’Unday in the northeast.

  Snapping his rock fingers, he produced sparks, which flew down and ignited the pool of oil. The sickly green flame from the miniature lake caused the entire map to come alive with colors, clouds, and blue water in the other lakes. It appeared to be Australis in every way except size and the life that lived there.

  Thorik and Avanda craned their necks to see the cause of the new bright light. But once they managed to, they couldn’t believe their eyes. The oil they had once used from the Mountain King Temple had also been used to create Bakalor. Or was it the other way around? Perhaps the ancient Nums had retrieved the oil from Bakalor’s body. Regardless, both Nums had seen this rare oil bring stone objects to life when it was lit as it gave off its ill-colored greenish illumination.

  Bakalor and Irluk scanned the map. The tip of Lu’Tythis Tower gave off tiny bursts of lightning, and the demon nodded his approval. “It appears you have already fractured it. This needs to be ready when the war is underway.”

  Slowly nodding in agreement, she watched the lightning flair out from the crystal in the top on the tiny tower. “Understood. However, we need more forces to make sure it falls down in time.”

  “Agreed.” He then turned his attention beyond the living map. “Grub!” he called out to his youngest son.

  Silence followed until the rocks near the landscape replica began to quake and bounce, followed quickly by the surface blasting up out of the way to reveal the demon’s son, Grub.

  Cooling quickly on the surface, the glob crusted over before four arms and a mouth emerged from its headless round body. Dirt and rocks rolled off Grub, displaying his crusted skin, which exposed internal hot magma between the cracks. “Yes, your Grace,” Grub said to his father.

  “Have you met your siblings yet?”

  “Yes, as you instructed.”

  “Good. How many can we send to Lu’Tythis Tower?” Bakalor asked as he studied the moving map.

  Grub had no eyes to see what his father was looking at. The vibrations in the rock led him to where he needed to go. “They have informed me that most of my siblings are already at the tower. There are four of us here in Della Estovia. We await your call, your Grace.” Heat exited his mouth each time he talked, as though the door of a furnace was opened.

  Bakalor glanced up at Irluk to see if four more of his servants would be enough.

  Irluk was also reviewing the map, plotting her own moves. “Three for sure. Four would guarantee it.”

  “Grub?”

  “Yes, your Grace.”

  “Take the rest of your siblings to the Lu’Tythis Tower. You are my guarantee.”

  Grub leaned forward in a bow and held it, waiting to be dismissed.

  “No excuses, Irluk, I have given you everything you requested. This had better be precisely executed.”

  Irluk bowed her head in respect, but quickly released it and looked the demon in the eyes. “With these additional resources, I will be ready by the time Ergrauth leads his army beyond the Guardians and reaches River’s Edge. They prepare to l
eave as we speak.”

  Focusing on the living map, Bakalor caused a small red colored ripple, within the miniature Ergrauth Valley, to move out of the City of Ergrauth and toward the peaks of the Guardians.

  Plotting each move out again to ensure he hadn’t missed anything, he began to question her about each task she was to perform. “Have you revealed the location of the Winds of Conquest?”

  “Not only revealed, but the demon Ergrauth has awoken them.”

  “Well done. Where is Darkmere?” the demon asked.

  Irluk pointed at the map. “He has left the temple of Surod and is heading toward Corrock.”

  Under the demon’s influence, a small dark point jutted up from the map, located near the city of Corrock. Bakalor wanted to see where each of the pieces were sitting on his game of war. “Will Darkmere have the human armies of Doven moved to north Woodlen when Ergrauth’s army attacks Doven’s wall?”

  “He will. The southern Woodlen walls will be unprotected.” Her voice was calm and confident. “He will also have Corrock ready to destroy the city of Trewek.”

  “Excellent, Irluk. Now, I must know, what did you do with Ambrosius after you killed him?”

  Irluk did not answer.

  “You did kill him, didn’t you?”

  “We fought at Weirfortus. But I was unable to take his soul. Now he is in hiding. Something prevents me from finding him.”

  “How many attempts will it take for you to finally remove him?”

  “He had unexpected help. I will not underestimate him again.”

  “Perhaps he is still more powerful than you. You obviously can’t contain him,” Bakalor jabbed, peering over at her body of flowing burnt particles. “He did turn you into what you are. Perhaps he has regained what he once had.” Nodding in agreement to his own words he added, “I believe he is still stronger than you.”

  The speed of her whirling debris immediately increased. “Perhaps once, but not anymore! I will take his soul before the end of this war!”

  “You had better,” Bakalor said bluntly. “Otherwise he could destroy everything we’ve worked for.”

  Irluk pondered her plight. “I must find his weakness.” She glanced over at the Nums still lying on the rock column, dazed and half-conscious.

  “You!” The Death Witch floated over to Avanda and Thorik. Her charcoal hair flailed about over the Nums’ heads as her face continued to break apart and reformed from the ashes that made up her skin. “You are friends with Ambrosius.”

  The Nums didn’t know how to respond, as they held onto each other’s hand without saying a word.

  “Bakalor,” Irluk said in an unusually canny way, “I would like to take these two back up to the surface.”

  The demon sat up and looked away from his map. “No. This is Thorik Dain. He holds responsibility to my imprisonment down here. He needs to suffer.”

  Thorik was confused and failed to reply before Irluk did.

  A devious smile grew upon her face. “I only mean to borrow them. I need worms for the end of my hook,” she said in an ancient language the Nums couldn’t understand. “Besides, I’ll bring him back down here afterward whether he lives through it or not.”

  “He needs to suffer for what he did.”

  “And he will. But you’ve waited many years for your revenge on him. I think you can wait a little longer. He’s not going to leave Terra Australis and he must die sooner or later. If all goes well, you will rule the land above the caves soon enough anyway. So he will be yours no matter how you look at it.”

  Bakalor sighed at the witch’s logic. “What is your plan?”

  Irluk gathered her thoughts before replying in the foreign tongue. “Have Grub follow them back to the lake valley. Once these two Nums are in jeopardy, Ambrosius will come out of hiding to save them. And once he does, I’ll finish him off.”

  “What would you have me do to them if no jeopardy strikes on its own?” Grub asked.

  “I don’t care. Kill the ones they travel with and put these two in peril. Once it’s serious enough, the old E’rudite will show himself to save his friends. It’s his weakness.”

  Grub bowed his body forward and turned to the demon. “I wait your orders, your Grace.”

  Bakalor contemplated his options and licked his lips at the idea of having another taste of Num. But in the end he agreed with Irluk. “Grub, send your siblings to the Lu’Tythus Tower. You, on the other hand, will follow these two Nums until Irluk’s trap snares success.”

  “Yes, your Grace.”

  Unsuccessfully, Thorik and Avanda attempted to understand what was being discussed. But even if they had a grasp of the odd language, they were in no condition to intervene. Nodding at Avanda, Thorik assured her that everything would be fine as he held her hand tight. What else could he do but give her hope, even if he didn’t have any himself.

  Swirling her ash-filled body above the column, Irluk quickly surrounded the two Nums before lifting them into the air toward the cavern ceiling. Thorik and Avanda’s bodies met, and the two Nums gathered enough strength to grab onto one another. Again, clouds formed in the center of the cavern’s highest point, while lightning flashed and thunder boomed around them.

  Wind tossed them back and forth, as they continued to hold each other as tight as possible, even locking their legs together to prevent them from being torn apart. All was pitch black aside from the blinding bright flashes of the lightning.

  Rain began to drench them as the Nums continued to roll and spin out of control until they had lost any perspective of time. Their sense of balance was skewed, and they had no concept of which way was up. The rain became so severe that it nearly drowned them.

  It was at this point that a large set of hands grabbed them and tried to pull them apart. But their grip was nearly impossible to break as they clutched onto each other even harder. But again the hands pulled at them, this time breaking their tight bond.

  Chapter 10

  Reunion