Thorik tried to work off his frustration with himself, the situation, and those he had let down. Rationalizing his decisions, he justified them with the understanding that this trip with Ambrosius was still the right thing to do. He assembled various beds of woven grass, leaves, and sticks for the night to take his mind off his problems.
A campsite had been quickly set up toward the upstream wall to block the wind. Collapsing from the pain and fatigue, Ambrosius rested next to Avanda near the fire as Gluic covered them with blankets.
Fir Brimmelle, Wess, and Emilen began to argue about what to do with Ambrosius. The options proposed ranged from helping him reach Kingsfoot to leaving him to die where Thorik had found him.
The two men argued that anyone with the power to create this crater was surely a threat. The destruction of so much nature, along with the animals that lived among it, showed a lack of morality. Brimmelle wasted no time in reading verses from the scrolls that applied which forbid such destruction of nature.
Wess added, “There are dead fish in the river and now thrashers in the valley, near Farbank no less!” Wess peered into the darkening surrounding woods, partly out of wariness of these predators, and partly to emphasize his point. He continued, “These bad signs shouldn’t be ignored. We don’t even know what he is. No human can do what was done here. He’s must be some kind of demon.” He enjoyed a heated debate. The outcome meant very little to him. It was the bantering back and forth that excited him.
Emilen held her own against the two. However, emotion played a factor for her. It was very uncommon for anyone to raise their voice to a Fir, let alone publicly disagree with them, but she didn’t hold back at all. She pointed out verses in several scrolls that spoke of the coming savior that fell from the Mountain King’s Crown and then helped rebuild their kingdom. “The animals that were killed around the crater were thrashers, who have never come to this valley before. Another day or so and they would have attacked the village. Ambrosius prevented the attack and saved our lives. As far as the fish are concerned, I recall a scroll passage that reads ‘where great good comes, great evil tries to destroy it’. It is our responsibility to protect Ambrosius from an evil that will try to kill him.”
Fir Brimmelle took offense to being challenged. No one had ever questioned his interpretation of the Runestone Scrolls or the Rules of Order, at least not to his face. He allowed Wess to do most of the arguing and then would interject with phrases from the scrolls when he could.
Wess was quick to return a pointed question back to the sender and he knew just what and how to say things that got under Emilen’s mental armor, throwing her off balance. He never lost control of the situation and often flashed that irritating grin of his.
Emilen fought the good fight but became so frustrated with Wess that she finally had to walk away and take a break near the river. “Thanks for your support,” she stabbed at Thorik as she walked past him, his shocked look irritating her even more.
Thorik had avoided the debate. His focus was on helping Ambrosius get to the point he could make it on his own, regardless of his intentions. He reached into his sack of Runestones and pulled out one at random for guidance. Mentioning the rune’s name, “Respect,” he looked at the hexagonal stone’s flat side. “Show others the same respect that you would have them show you.” Pondering over a few more phrases in his mind helped set him at ease and understand his error in judgment.
Brimmelle found his bed laid out for him and fell asleep shortly. Avanda was moved to another bed by Emilen to distance herself from Brimmelle. The youth never woke as she was guided to her new resting place near the Fir. Thorik and Wess took turns as lookout throughout the night while Emilen slept off her frustration.
After collecting new flora to wear, Gluic ignored everyone and focused on healing Ambrosius before her own slumber. She never got into debates or the Rules of Order for that matter. She just did what she felt was right when she felt it needed to be done. Life seemed so much simpler that way.
Ambrosius woke to the sound of a campfire and Brimmelle snoring up a storm. His vision was hazy at first as he looked at the firelight washing against various bodies surrounding the camp. They were all lying on Thorik’s thick neatly constructed beds.
One figure was leaning over the fire, and judging by the smell, was making breakfast. As expected, it was Thorik. “You gave us quite a scare again.” The Num said. “You passed out when we first arrived and then screamed in pain several times last night.” The night’s sleep had washed away the arguments from the prior day as Thorik challenged himself to start each day with a fresh outlook.
The Num continued to focus on his cooking. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“I hurt, but I’ll survive.” Sitting up to face Thorik, Ambrosius squinted as he looked about and realized that he was still in the crater, and still not recalling the place. It meant nothing to him, but something else did. “Do you know the name Ruddlehoth of Kingsfoot?”
“Yes, there’s one sleeping right over there. Why, what do you need with Emilen?”
“I’m not sure exactly. I had a dream, recalling someone with that name. What can you tell me about her?” Ambrosius inquired.
Smiling, Thorik glanced over at her sleeping under several blankets. “What do you need to know? She has a great gift for teaching the Runestones and helping others. She’s strong willed and can negotiate amazing trades at the market. She’s enjoyable to be around. Just don’t get on her bad side.” Thorik smiled and then noticed that his breakfast hadn’t been given attention for a bit.
“Any relationship to Fir Beltrow?”
“Yes, that would be her father. Do you know him?”
“Yes.” Now was not the time to inform the young lady of her father’s death while he had attended the council meeting. Ambrosius wasn’t even absolutely convinced of it himself. It all seemed vague and dreamlike. Instead, he changed the subject. “How is your Order structured? I understand that each community has one Fir of the Order and if I remember correctly they usually have more than one Sec that is in training who helps with the daily tasks.”
Thorik was too busy finishing up the cooking to notice the change in conversation. “We have three; Thea, Shucan, and myself. It is a great honor to be selected. We each have our own ways of supporting Fir Brimmelle. Someday one of us will become the Fir, after Brimmelle has left us.”
“So who does Fir Brimmelle receive guidance from?”
Thorik looked puzzled. “The Order.”
Ambrosius also looked confused. “The Order?”
“The Scrolls of Wisdom provides the details of how to live by the Rules of Order.”
“Isn’t there a higher power than your village Fir to monitor their teachings?”
“No.” Brimmelle unexpected words were abrupt and heavy. “The Rules of Order and the Rune Scrolls tell me what I need to know. Seeing that the Mountain King himself wrote the Scrolls of Wisdom to be self-evident to those who know how to read them, there isn’t a need for others to tell me how to interpret his writings.”
Thorik looked over. “Good morning, Uncle. Your breakfast is ready.” He proceeded to scoop some onto a plate before handing it to him. Thorik continued by making a plate for Ambrosius as well as the rest of the party, as he woke them up before serving himself.
Brimmelle began shoveling food into his mouth. “Our beliefs are of no concern to you. They have served us well for generations and don’t require outsiders poking their nose into our business.”
Ambrosius stared at Brimmelle’s image which was slightly clearer now that the sun was starting to rise. “Recently your Order has acquired representation on the Grand Council, and I haven’t had the time to learn much about your beliefs. I was just curious and meant no offense.”
Brimmelle continued eating while talking. “I’m not represented by anyone at your council. The Rules of Order and the Rune Scrolls were written by the Mountain King, which the Fir’s teach to their faction. The Sec’s provide the suppor
t for the Fir’s and carry out actions to help the faction. The faction provides the needs of the Fir. In return, the Mountain King provides strong crops, abundant fish in the river and fruitful hunts. It’s cut and dried, easy to understand.”
Ambrosius questioned Brimmelle again. “Can I safely assume that Gluic is a Channel? I’ve never met one personally, but she seems to fit the description that I have heard.”
Thorik’s brow raised and eyes opened large at the question, for he knew how Brimmelle refused to allow anyone to talk about Gluic’s odd ways.
Defensively, Brimmelle responded, “She’s my mother. Don’t you dare try to label her.”
Ambrosius took a different angle in his questioning. “Understood. Your mother aside, may I ask how Channels fit into your Order?”
“They don’t,” Brimmelle cut short.
Thorik broke the awkward silence that followed. “Some Nums have been given the gift to channel special powers, which we are thankful for and use from time to time. But they have nothing to do with the Order. There is nothing in our Scrolls about them. Historically, Nums have been killed for having such abilities, believing they are evil powers.” Glancing at the Fir, he continued. “But Brimmelle has taught us that the powers come from the Mountain King and we are not to question it, for it would be like questioning the Mountain King himself.”
By this point the rest of the party was eating their breakfast. They all sat on the beddings facing the fire, some with their blankets covering their head and body. The meal was warm and helped them shake off the night’s chill.
The camp was oddly silent as they ate, unlike the night before after Ambrosius had passed out. They quietly finished their breakfast, eyes glaring at each other with obvious tension amongst them. No agreement had been made as to Ambrosius’ fate.
Ambrosius noticed his party’s disposition with interest, wondering what he had missed. Obviously he had struck a nerve with his questioning but the stiffness of the group seemed to be more than just that.
Thorik finally stood, gathered dishes and his cooking gear, and headed off to the river to clean them. Emilen stood up to help Thorik with the items.
It wasn’t far to the water. They had camped near the edge of the crater, toward the river to reduce the cold winds that came down from the mountain top and headed down the valley. The crater’s northwest edge sloped up to a wall of boulders and dirt that acted as a dam, keeping the water out and encroaching into the river by a fourth of the river’s width.
Thorik set his items down on a flat boulder next to the river. “I bet you wish you had brought your fishing supplies.” His attempt to lighten the mood received no response, so he continued, “I mean, look at this natural dock. It’s perfect for fishing wouldn’t you say?”
Thorik and Emilen started washing the pots as he continued in his pursuit of reducing the uncomfortable silent tension. “I might have to stop here and do some fishing next time I’m in these parts. Yes, some very nice fishing could be done at this location.”
“Why didn’t you defend my view?” Emilen briskly stated as her eyes looked up from what she was cleaning to look at him.
Thorik wasn’t sure which was worse, the uncomfortable silence or the conversation that was just starting. He looked up from his work and replied. “Hang on a second. I thought you were mad at Wess. Why are you upset with me?”
“Yes, I’m mad that Wess’ misguided understanding of the Scrolls of Wisdom could cause an innocent man to die. A man that I believe has been sent here by the Mountain King to strengthen our faith, guide us, and unite us across the land. Of course it upsets me and it should upset Brimmelle and you as well. Brimmelle is either too afraid of losing his authority or too bullheaded to see what’s going on. On the other hand, you are close to Ambrosius and can surely see that he is not here to harm us. You also know the words of the scrolls and should be helping me in carrying them out. Wess may not agree with me, but I respect the fact that he stands up for what he believes in and is willing to fight for it.”
“I just don’t see how yelling at each other is going to help any of us.”
“So what would you have me do? Watch as they kill the savior of our people and do nothing? What kind of Sec are you? I thought you were a good person; someone who carries out the Rules of Order and follows the words from the scrolls. At what point do you stand up for what you believe in and fight for it? Or should we just do whatever Fir Brimmelle orders even though everything inside of us is saying not to?”
Thorik felt this wave of questions crash upon him and he began to drown in them. He didn’t know what question to answer first and he was concerned that any answer he gave would unleash another attack. But he had to reply. He wasn’t a coward by any means. He just didn’t see any reason to make this issue any bigger than it really was. “No, of course not,” came out as he kept his eyes on his work. It was a safe answer, simple and not retaliating which would have caused more conflicts.
“No? No what? No, you don’t have the valor to fight for what’s right? No, you can’t disobey your Fir even when you know he’s wrong? Or, no, you don’t care about anyone but yourself and unless it hurts you it isn’t worth bothering yourself. Is that why you live outside the village, so you don’t have to bother yourself with the problems of others? Ignoring the problems doesn’t make them go away.”
Thorik was wounded. This wave hit deeper than the prior one and there appeared to be an endless supply of them ready and waiting. He had worked extremely hard all his life to be the best person that he could and tried to follow the Rules of Order. He thought he performed this better than most others by helping people whenever they asked without looking for anything in return. How dare she suggest otherwise. “You’re wrong.” He finally looked her square in the eyes. “I’m always helping others. You have no right to question my beliefs and convictions.” Pausing to take a breath, he finished with, “I am a good person.”
“Yes, you are,” she agreed with him. “But it takes more than being a good person to make things better. You have to fight for what’s right.” Emilen picked up the items she had washed and walked down the hillside and back to camp without saying another word. In her haste, one of her hair ribbons had fallen to the ground near Thorik.
His natural reaction was to return it to her, but instead he picked it up and pulled it tight between his fingers. Tight, just like he felt inside after his confrontation with her. His chest and shoulders were straining and his stomach churned. Thorik was frustrated and disappointed in himself for not defending himself better. He sat there, near the river, justifying himself to himself before realizing that this wasn’t doing him any good.
Looking down at his feet dangling over the boulder he continued to pull the blue ribbon back and forth between several fingers until he lost control and dropped it. Drifting down, it approached the water’s surface and landed on a frog warming itself on a rock in the morning sunlight. Thorik gave a slight smile. “Enjoy the scarf, my friend. No need to repay me.” The frog leaped into the water and disappeared from sight. Thorik was alone again.
Chapter 8
Fesh’Unday
Thorik’s Log: 2nd day of the 10th month of the 649th year.
My journal of our travels begins on a sour note. Our journey up the river has not been as I had hoped. I’m looking forward to reaching Kingsfoot and seeing the Mountain King statue with my own eyes.
Fate of Thorik Page 8