Once again, the party was on its way through the woods as bushes thickened and boulders became more common. Steep slopes began to appear on small hills at first and then large ravines. The trees here were taller with trunks the size of three men.
After many more hours of walking into the evening, Wess noticed that moss seemed to grow on almost everything in this area. The exceptions were several logs and a few large rocks scattered about.
Wess, like Thorik, was a proficient woodsman, so when he noticed the unnatural looking growth he grew curious and investigated it. Pulling Brimmelle to the side he pointed to a few odd features. “Take a look at this. There must have been one terrible storm in these parts.”
Brimmelle was obviously confused. “Why do you say that?”
“Look at the moss on these logs. They are on the wrong side so all these trees recently fell.”
“Storms knock down trees. What’s so odd about that?”
“Normally you would find the base trunk nearby or a small pit from the uprooting. I see neither. This storm tossed these trees away from their growth location.”
As the slight breeze changed direction they noticed a new odor. Brimmelle covered his noses with his hand and looked at Wess.
Squinting, he was starting to get nervous. “I know that smell. It’s the smell of death. Rotten flesh.” Cautiously he followed the stench.
Brimmelle didn’t want to be left behind, nor did he want to follow. Looking around, he noticed that the rest of the party had left and he didn’t know in which direction. “Let us be on our way.”
Wess paid no attention to him as he pinpointed the odor to one of the fallen trees. Noticing a patch of black fur attached to the backside of the log, he took a stick to pry it off to find that it was an arm of some animal. “Thrashers.” His eyes darted about before looked over to warn Brimmelle, who was now frozen with fear. Wess had heard the horror stories of those beasts and wanted nothing to do with them. “It’s time to go.”
Upon reaching Brimmelle, he could see his Fir staring in shock at the sight of a decomposing ape-like beast with both legs missing. Shards of wood pierced through the creature’s body. Facial skin had been chewed off half its face and the insects where running rampant over it.
Brimmelle attempted to clarify the situation. “I’ve heard that thrashers kill each other for dominance.”
“No. This doesn’t make sense. A tribe of thrashers ripped apart. What could have done that? And those fallen trees, they don’t belong here, and they weren’t dragged to this spot either.” Looking upwards, he noted a lot of breakage in the canopy. “It’s as if they were dropped here. And these large rocks, they look water worn from the river. They’re out of place as well.” He thought for a moment before stating nervously, “I know of no creature that could do this, but I am sure we don’t want to run into whatever it is.”
Wess had never actually seen a thrasher before, but he had seen hides that had come from the south side of the mountain. He had heard stories. Horrific stories of thrasher raids on villages. Every child had been warned by their parents in an effort to keep them from wandering off into the forest. “Thrashers don’t live in the King’s Valley.” He shook the child’s horrifying fable out of his mind. “So, why are they here? And so close to Farbank.”
Though still puzzled, Wess finally decided to focus on getting out of the area to discuss this with the others. In doing so they caught up to the rest of the group within a few minutes. The party had completely stopped, standing on the edge of a rim looking across a small valley clearing.
The bowl shaped clearing sat in front of them about half the size of Farbank. Its rim was lined with fallen trees and large boulders as they pressed up against the trees still standing along the perimeter.
The small round valley was free of all life and extended into the river with a dam of earth and rocks, preventing the water from flooding it. It was a strange contrast of rock and dirt surrounded by the lush forest and snowcapped mountains. It was out of place and oddly unnatural. In essence, it was a lifeless crater.
They climbed down the side and then moved toward the middle as the ground grew hard. As they approached the center, the solid rock was stripped clean of all dirt. Deep scars in the bedrock floor pointed away from the center, which is where Thorik led Ambrosius.
Brimmelle stopped next to them as he tried to understand what had happened.
“Do you recall this place?” Thorik asked Ambrosius.
Ambrosius was in great pain by this point. He had pushed too hard throughout the day and was in need of a treatment from Gluic. Regardless, he looked at his surroundings with no memory of it. “No.”
“This is where I found you, right here in the center.”
Ambrosius slowly looked around. “No, I have no memories of this place.” Thinking a bit more, he added, “But I do recall climbing out of a river and onto the rocks near the trees. I remember pain and then being attacked. They came from everywhere. I was certain this was my end. They were clawing and biting and ripping me apart.” Ambrosius thought deeply to remember. “Then I pushed them away.” He paused as he fought the overpowering urge to collapse from the pain, the day’s travel, and the memory of the events. With the help of Thorik he lowered himself to sit on the ground. “No, not them,” he corrected himself. “I pushed everything away. Everything. Then blackness and peace.” After a moment he continued, “I remember nothing else; in fact I’m not certain it’s even a memory. It’s so unclear, like a faded dream. If I didn’t still have the pain in my legs, I surely would have thought it was precisely that.”
Thorik noticed Brimmelle’s tense expression and face turning deep red. “Brimmelle, I know what you’re going to say. However, understand he was going to die, his powers to kill the thrashers and create this crater match the powers in the Portent Scrolls about the evil that is coming, but they also match the description of the one that will save us.”
“You found him out this far?” Brimmelle said to Thorik’s surprise. “I had forbid you to exceed the boundaries of Fawn Hollow without others. If you had been hurt out here we would have never found you. You may play lightly with your life, but I will not.”
Thorik’s shoulder’s lowered. “Yes, yes, you are right. But-”
Brimmelle continued over the top of Thorik’s words. “Have you forgotten how your parents died? Are you trying to tempt fate?” He was furious at the youth’s actions.
“No. You don’t understand the whole story.”
He grabbed Thorik by his hair with one hand to stifle the young man’s words. “No, it’s you that doesn’t understand the entire ramifications. You knew that thrashers had traveled this close to Farbank and you never alerted us? You know the stories. You know what they do. And you didn’t tell anyone? You endangered all of us, so you didn’t have to confront me with the extent of your travels?” Angry and disappointed, the Fir looked at Thorik’s now sagging shoulders and saddened eyes. “I would not have thought you, of all people, would have put yourself before the village. When are you going to start seeing the greater view of life instead of just your little insignificant piece of it?”
Thorik attempted to get a few words into the conversation. “I was just-”
“I don’t want to hear it. When we return to Farbank you will surrender your family home and your position as our Northern Valley hunter so you can focus on the Rune Scrolls. I will not let you make this mistake again.”
Thorik’s eyes widened and filled with tears as he began to protest. But he knew that look from Brimmelle. With every word Thorik spoke to argue the point, Brimmelle would make the deal even worse.
Chapter 7
Campsite
Fate of Thorik Page 7