Thorik led his followers onto the long bridge toward the distant bluffs just beyond the second tower. Sturdy and functional, the wide bridge had seen better days. Many armies had crossed here at some point since it had been built, and it appeared that some had actually fought directly on the bridge.
Avanda walked up front with Thorik and Bryus as she continued to question the Alchemist’s knowledge of magic. She wanted to know everything that there was to learn about the subject.
Fidgeting with his wooden arm, the Alchemist continued to test the new limb with small spells to no avail. “This arm is simply no good,” he muttered to himself. “Why won’t it take?”
Wanting to avoid the conversation of what went wrong with the spell used to attach his arm, Avanda changed the subject. “How did you know to cast a spell ahead of time to shield your chest from the Blothrud?” she asked.
“It’s a typical Blothrud approach to issues. They strike out at anything that denies them of what they want. It’s usually respect.” His tone was condescending and rubbed Thorik the wrong way.
“You don’t have a lot of respect for most species.” He had given up trying to be nice to the Alchemist.
Attempting to bend his wooden arm, Bryus realized that his spell casting would be limited until he found himself a new arm to replace it. “That’s not true at all. I find all species equally inept and annoying.” He smiled, enjoying his own validation of thought.
It took Thorik a few seconds to accept what he thought he heard was really what was said. “How can you say that?”
“Simple, Num. It’s not hard to tell the truth when it’s painfully obvious.” Bryus smiled. He enjoyed a hardy disagreement with someone who stood up for themselves, and his respect had begun to grow for Thorik.
“Have you no admiration for the great accomplishments our people have made? The ability to create great cities, music and art alone can’t be dismissed.”
“True, but they are few compared to the damage we have all done. The wars we have fought, the blood we have all spilled. We are like roaches that are slowly destroying the land. Your approval of beautiful great cities is just another example in destruction of nature. Music is played from instruments made only by the death of plants. We are all guilty of this, and yet you wonder why I lack reverence for our own kind?”
“As much as I agree with you that war is usually counterproductive, utilizing what the land provides to improve our lives doesn’t seem wrong, as long as we only take what we need.”
“But we don’t follow that, do we? Unlike the Fesh’Unday, we take more than needed. We become greedy and careless.” Bryus cleared his throat. “And because of this, I have more respect for Fesh’Unday than I do for the rest of us.”
“And yet you marvel at objects of old.”
“Without question, Num. You see, they don’t create war or destroy resources. They can be utilized to do such things by us barbarians, but not on their own volition, for they are pure. Embedded into them are the raw powers that were used to create this land, untarnished by men, Dels, Ovs, or Nums. Good and evil do not apply to them. They are what they are, even if we label them as cursed while others label them as a grand gift. Oh, we are a fickle lot, aren’t we?”
“Although I do not share it, I can surely see your point, but you act as though these objects are more valuable than us.”
Bryus nodded. “More valuable, and trustworthy. I would easily give my life to prevent the destruction of Rummon’s Spear, Varacon, or others with such a rich history and background.”
“And yet.” Thorik spoke slow and sharp. “You had no issue with us leaving Varacon in the desert, unprotected from the elements or future careless people who may stumble upon it.”
Bryus stopped in his tracks, motionless and silent, staring forward instead of looking Thorik in the eye.
Turning to face the Alchemist, Thorik assumed there must be more to his statement than he had thought. “Do you care to explain why you left this enchanted dagger so easily?”
Bryus was staring at the bluff on the north side of the river. The grasslands, across the top of the bluff, broke away to layers of hard rock before leveling out in a dry flood plain next to the river. His eyes squinted and he focused his thoughts. “I think there is someone waiting for us on the other side.”
Thorik turned to verify. The prattle box had worked…but on whom?
Chapter 26
Return of the E’rudite
Essence of Gluic Page 33