Shortly after breakfast, the group had packed and prepared for the day’s journey. Most of the group began walking as Thorik doused the campfire ashes before catching up to the rest, following Emilen and Wess who had been in the back.
Walking next to Emilen Wess eventually apologized for the confrontation the night before. He explained that he had thought about what she had said and he would give her ideas a chance. She obviously warmed up to what he was saying and thanked him. Presenting her with one of her many dropped hair ribbons, he explained how beautiful she looked with it in. It happened to be a special ribbon that her mother had made for her. Excited to see it returned, she gave him a quick excited hug.
Emilen gazed at Wess for a moment. He was actually very dashing, ruggedly handsome and carried himself very well. He had a charm that either had people eating out of his hands or irritated them to no end. But he fought for what he believed in and that meant a great deal to her. All she needed to do is get him to believe in the right things. “Yes, he could be the one,” she thought.
Wess looked down at Emilen and realized he had broken the ice and gotten back into her good graces. The ribbon he had given her was interlaced with various color threads that matched her natural flowing locks of hair. She added it to the others already tied up behind her head. Wess watched her shapely figure as they continued. “I bet she joined this trip to spend some more time with me,” he told himself.
Thorik had watched the exchange between Wess and Emilen, including the hug.
Avanda stood along the way, waiting for Thorik to arrive. “I’ll walk with you,” she said once he had caught up to her. Grabbing his hand, she swung it back and forth as she skipped lightly down the way.
It didn’t take long for her excitement of the journey to infect Thorik and they both gained momentum until they were at the front of the party.
The pace was still slow but faster than the day before. Several stops were made for Ambrosius to rest, although Brimmelle and Gluic needed it as well. Thorik and Avanda led the way, followed closely by Gluic and Ambrosius. The rest followed at their own speed.
Ambrosius was still struggling and the previous day of walking only added sore muscles to his pain. He could not give up, too much was at stake, so he employed everything he had left to continue. Gluic helped by pulling the pain out of him several times a day, and Thorik was always there to lean on and help him up and down steep hills. In addition, Ambrosius’ new staff kept him balanced to make up for his bad leg. It wasn’t the highly crafted staff he had traveled the lands with for many an age. It was only a limb stripped of its branches and sanded down, but it served its purpose.
He appreciated his helpers, but Ambrosius missed his old staff. It was a symbol of how things were when he had it. He had seen great battle victories and unions with his staff at his side. Without it, he recalled the defeats and destruction during his youth, and now his current state of helplessness. The staff was symbolic and wasn’t the strength of his power, but life felt empty without it, like missing an arm or a leg. He didn’t feel whole.
“The grip is bad, it’s cutting into my hand,” Ambrosius stated as he stopped, handed Thorik the staff, and held out his hand showing the bloody palm with various cuts in it. He stood silent as Thorik quickly cleaned and wrapped his wounds. Thorik removed the leather from the staff before cutting a few slices out of the wood and then applied new skins to the hand grip.
“Here, this should fit your hand better. I’ll work on reducing its weight at our next stop.” Thorik firmly placed it back into Ambrosius’ freshly wrapped hand.
Ambrosius squeezed his hand around it and moved his fingers a bit to modify his grip. “Better.” Nodding, he began limping forward again. The trip was taking its toll on him physically and mentally. The pain increased progressively throughout the day, even after Gluic’s help, and was testing his ability to focus.
Thorik was pleased that the grip was better and proceeded to lead the party along the trail to Kingsfoot. As they reached the narrows where the trail ran through a gorge, they could see that quite a bit of the walls on either side had caved in and blocked the path. The nearer they got to the narrows the more clear it was that they weren’t passing through that way. Thorik eyed the bluff’s precipitous slope. “This one will take most of the day.”
Wess shook his head at the idea. “Why don’t we stay by the river? We’ll never make it past that cliff face.”
Fortunately, Thorik’s father had taught him about such things before Brimmelle took over as his guardian. His father had also informed him that the old trail to Kingsfoot lay above the cliff line.
“River cuts,” Thorik replied.
“What?” Wess asked, thinking he had heard him incorrectly.
“As we travel farther upstream the river makes deeper shear cuts into the foothills carving out gorges. King’s River Gorge doesn’t open until Kingsfoot Lake. The river grows more treacherous with less shoreline as we head upstream.” He spied what he was looking for and then continued. “Besides, see that large crack a short way up the rock face? That’s our passageway through to the other side.”
Exhausted, Brimmelle finally arrived. “This is far enough. We cannot climb any further.” Breathing heavier than the rest, he sat down on a nearby rock while wiping the sweat from his forehead. Gluic was also showing signs of fatigue as she sat next to him. Wess and Ambrosius followed suit and sat down as well.
Emilen handed around water starting with Ambrosius while Thorik pulled some rope out and began tying knots in it. He proceeded to tie the end around himself. Giving several feet of slack he then tied it to Ambrosius before continuing to Emilen, Brimmelle, Gluic, Avanda and finally Wess at the far end. While tying everyone onto the rope he explained that the purpose of the rope was to catch someone should they slip along the way up the steep slopes.
Wess had cited several reasons why he should be tied between Emilen and Ambrosius, but Thorik simply ignored him.
Brimmelle didn’t like the idea of continuing. As he ventured farther from his village he struggled more to hold a leadership role. It also became difficult to obtain passages from his scrolls that would suggest how to handle things differently. Feeling out of place, he attempted several more times to convince Gluic that she should not travel any farther, without any success.
Gluic was too headstrong for him and often would do the opposite of what he asked anyway. Not in an attempt to be cruel, but to teach him. As Fir of Farbank, he had absolute power and in time he had allowed it to corrupt his thinking. He had never traveled to other villages or communities to experience how other Firs have taught their students. He had become close-minded and needed to be reminded from time to time of his own mortality and flaws. There was a good man inside him, but only he could bring it out. She felt this trip to Kingsfoot would do him well and hoped he would see it through. However, if he did decide to go back, she still needed to continue on, for her task was not yet completed.
The group was soon up and moving again in an attempt to reach the crack in the mountain before sundown. It took several minutes to get used to the rope’s slack between them. If not handled correctly it was easy to trip on it. Brimmelle learned the hard way more than once.
With the trees slowly starting to give way to more jutting rocks, they worked their way up a long stretch of nearly vertical climbing before opening up to a series of rocky shelves which acted as nice rest areas. Thorik climbed up onto the first shelf and turned to help Ambrosius. He could see in the man’s eyes that he needed Gluic’s touch as collapsed at the Num’s feet and rolled onto his back.
It had taken them longer than Thorik had hoped to reach the upper portions of the cliff. The shadow of the mountain had fallen upon them and the rising full moon crested over the eastern mountain peaks and bathed them in a blue light.
After adjusting his bow out of the way, Thorik pulled on the rope that linked Ambrosius to Emilen to help her up. While doing so, he was jabbed in the side by Ambrosius’ staff. Ambrosius d
idn’t always use the best manners when he needed water or assistance. Temporarily ignoring him, the Num reached down and lifted Emilen up off the cliff to a standing position in front of him. She was as light as a feather and for a moment he held her there looking into her eyes. But the moment ended with another quick jab of Ambrosius’ staff.
Thorik broke contact with Emilen and looked at Ambrosius, whose leg bandage was soaked with fresh blood. His injury hadn’t healed enough for the trip and it appeared to have re-opened. Kneeling next to him, Thorik looked at his wound when he heard Ambrosius whisper, “Thrashers.”
Thorik didn’t believe his ears until he looked at Ambrosius’ face to see him eyeing something behind Thorik’s back. Thorik turned in a flash, loaded an arrow in his bow, and pointed it where Ambrosius had been looking.
It was a small outcropping of rocks with a dark cave in the center of it, not far off of the group’s right. Stepping out of the cave and into the moonlight the tribe leader, a large silverhead, eyed Thorik. Three deep blackened scars could be seen on his forehead as one trailed below his left eye. Black hair covered the primate’s body, excluding parts of the face and hands. Long muscular arms reached down to the ground as he leaned forward while standing on its shorter back legs. Within one of his large black clinched hands he held a thick bone that he slowly tapped on the ground. The eyes were the most intriguing; Thorik felt that he could see intelligence within them even in the modest lighting.
The beast showed his teeth to Thorik before moving back into the darkness.
“Wess,” Thorik yelled. “Watch your back down there. We have thrashers, and they always attack from at least two sides.” His father’s training raced in his mind.
Brimmelle and Gluic stopped climbing to look around for any attackers while Wess pulled out his own hunting bow. Avanda grabbed several loose rocks to throw.
It was only seconds before the first set of clicks came from a rock shelf above them. A howl followed behind them, in the trees, as a second set of clicks came from the cave where Thorik had his weapon aimed. “Get up here! Now!” Thorik demanded.
Ambrosius rolled back to the edge of the ledge to help Emilen pull the rope that connected her to Brimmelle. The Fir was heavier than Emilen’s small-framed body, and he wasn’t as sure-footed. His ascent would take longer, especially now that he was panicking.
Wess loaded his bow as he caught a glimpse of several creatures jumping from tree to tree while they moved from the lower trees to the ones above the small band of travelers. It was difficult to prepare a shot at the quick thrashers, even though Num’s vision was reasonably well even in low-light situations. The heavy leaf coverage and the semi-darkness of night added to the challenge. It also didn’t help that his footing was nothing more than a few small rocks jutting out of the side of the cliff face.
A series of clicks and a long howl came from the silverhead in the darkness of the cave causing the trees around the party to shake. Thrashers slapped their hands on the rock shelves above, followed by one loud high-pitched howl which launched their attacked.
Wess began shooting in the trees as the Num-sized apes fell to the ground like rain. He had counted ten that he had shot and twice as many that he had missed.
Thorik stood on the ledge firing his arrows at thrashers emerging from the cave, only to break away periodically to fire at the ones from above. But with no one to watch his back it wasn’t long before he was outnumbered. An attack from the air knocked him to his knees and he dropped his weapon. Quickly grabbing his knife, he swiveled for a quick stab into the creature’s gut. With that one down, two more jumped on him. Thorik caught a glimpse of the silverhead emerging from his security of darkness before barking additional orders to his troops.
Brimmelle had just pulled himself up onto the ledge, near Emilen, as the first thrasher jumped from above and landed on him. He fell backward and off the ledge screaming in pain and carrying the beast with him. Avanda shrieked as she saw the thrashers coming from above. Ambrosius let go of the rope as he grabbed his staff and braced it on the ground to stab the next thrasher as it jumped for Emilen. Ambrosius used the creature’s own momentum, now stuck on the top end of the staff, to propel it down the hillside.
Emilen had continued holding onto the rope that attached her to Brimmelle. This quickly dragged her over the edge, falling face first toward Brimmelle and his passenger.
Brimmelle and Emilen clutched onto each other as they slid down the rock with the creature in tow. Without warning the thrasher was dislodged when the rope abruptly went taut. Ambrosius now held the rope with both hands as he braced his legs against an upright rock to prevent himself from being pulled over along with them. The pain from his weak leg was causing it to tremble as it felt ready to break again.
Emilen’s grip on Brimmelle broke, leaving her hanging in the air from Ambrosius’ rope as Brimmelle tumbled several feet before pulling Gluic off her grip. She, in turn, fell into Avanda and Wess who dropped his weapon to catch her.
Ambrosius leaned forward to grip the rope closer to the edge. He pressed his legs against the upright rock as he leaned back, pulling the rope up. On his second attempt he heard and felt his leg quiver. Snap! It popped as it gave way. He screamed in pain as he shifted all his weight to his other leg for his next attempt to pull them up. While leaning forward for his new grip on the rope, a mouth full of sharp blackened thrasher teeth sank into the flesh of his left arm.
A few yards away from Ambrosius, Thorik tumbled with the two primates on him as they ripped through his backpack and clothes. His wooden coffer acted as a shield against rear attacks, but was a poor excuse for armor. Their speed and upper body strength easily out matched his. Grabbing the neck of the one on top of him, he began to choke the thrasher while cracking the back of his head against the face of the one underneath him. He squeezed his fingers into the creature’s skin and choked him with all his might.
The thrasher’s arms and legs went wild as they tore into Thorik’s body. Its head tilted as the creature snapped its jaw at Thorik’s arms in a chaotic manner. The raised hair on the back of the thrashers head and the folded back ears indicated that he was still in an attack posture, in spite of the Num’s tight grip of his neck. The creature’s eyes showed no fear, only craze, only a desire to kill. Saliva from its incessant snapping covered Thorik’s face clouding his vision as a third beast grabbed at his legs.
Below the ledge, Wess stabilized Gluic and Avanda for the moment. He tried to pull Brimmelle up toward them as the older Num worked his way along the slope. Brimmelle had only taken a few steps before he saw several beasts running up the hill as though it was a flat field. The creature’s strong short body seemed to be made for speed in any terrain. Thrashers charged at them from several angles with their drooling mouths biting at the air in front of them, possessed with an uncontrollable rage.
Out of sheer terror, Brimmelle grabbed his chest of scrolls from his belt pouch, closed his eyes and started reciting the words he had read so often. Before his first verse was completed he was attacked and pressed against the hillside with his small chest of scrolls between him and the monster, which now had a death grip on the box with its mouth.
Emilen fell from her position trailed by a severed rope that once connected her to Ambrosius. She tumbled down into Brimmelle knocking the thrasher off him, along with his wooden chest. The two Nums rolled a few more feet before being stopped by the rope connected to Gluic. Fortunately, Avanda had wedged the ropes onto a large rock to keep them from falling.
Wess waved his hunting knife in the air at oncoming attackers, as Avanda continued to throw rocks at them. Several dead bodies littered the ground as more continued to attack.
Avanda turned to see a thrasher leap into the air with claws and fangs ready to cut through her skin. Braced for the impact, she watched the body of the creature collapse upon itself from some unseen force. Just prior to landing on her, it shrieked in pain. Blood and vomit rushed out of its mouth as she pushed th
e dead beast off her.
Two more were at her quickly. The one coming up from below suddenly slammed its head deep into a large rock, literally cracking the skull apart. The other, coming from the side, landed at her feet with an arrow in its throat. She was being protected.
This continued a few more times before she noticed the same was happening for Wess. She peered up to see Ambrosius and Thorik standing on the edge of the rock shelf. Thorik was firing arrows faster than she could count. Ambrosius stood on one leg, propped against a rock, with his left hand holding his staff and the other making various grabbing and slapping gestures in the air.
Thorik yelled down to them. “Climb up! They won’t stop attacking while we’re still here. Once we move on they will prey on their own wounded and dead.”
Despite their apprehension, the Nums turned their backs to the attacking creatures as they collected their items and started to climb up to the ledge. Bodies collapsed near them as they made the ascent, but they made it without additional confrontations.
Once there, Thorik had the group continue up the hill toward the fissure in the rock that would guide them to safety. Fortunately, it wasn’t too steep and the canyon’s exit was only another few minutes away. They quickly proceeded without Thorik and Ambrosius, who continued to hold off any followers.
“I think we’re okay now. Start making your way up the hillside,” Thorik shouted over the screams of their enemy. But Ambrosius didn’t move from his spot and continued to use his powers to crush and knock the creatures back into the forest, even the ones that were no threat. His movements became sharper with attacks more vicious. The man had exceeded his limits and was fallen into an instinctive survival mode.
“Ambrosius, snap out of it!” Thorik ordered, looking up at the focused face of his patient. “Let’s go!” Reaching up, he grabbed his arm.
Ambrosius’ eyes were glazed over and his face was rigid, without emotion. He swiftly turned and gestured his hand toward Thorik’s chest in a squeezing type motion.
The semi-darkness of the moonlit night was making it difficult to see details but Thorik could tell that his own hand was covered in blood from Ambrosius’ arm. Thorik’s body was now being squeezed and he reached out to Ambrosius in a plea for mercy as Ambrosius continued to tighten his grip.
Gasping, Thorik fell to his knees before his body went limp. Just before he passed out, Thorik was released. Lying there, he placed his blood-covered hand over his heart and looked over to see Ambrosius lying on the ledge unconscious.
Fallen and weak, the Num knew there was no way for him to carry Ambrosius out of danger as the thrashers began to regroup. He had to make a decision to grab his weapon and fight the rest of the tribe on his own or run away, leaving his the human to be torn apart by the Thrashers. Reaching for his dagger, he made his choice.
Wess jumped down off the rock from above and asked Thorik if he could walk. Receiving a nod for a reply, Wess moved over to Ambrosius and maneuvered him onto his shoulders. He slowly carried the man onto the next ledge and then up the hill. Keeping an eye on the injured thrashers, Thorik followed behind Wess, carrying the remains of his backpack and Ambrosius’ staff.
They reached the top, where the rest of the group waited for their guides, before Wess lowered Ambrosius. Wess was a strong individual but even he had his limits, and today had tested them.
“What happened? How in the King’s greatness did we get out of there alive?” Brimmelle asked Thorik when he arrived.
He responded with a hoarse voice, “I don’t know. I had just got one of them off me when the other two suddenly died. I looked around and Ambrosius was standing there waving his hand about. Then I grabbed my bow and started firing at them.” He stopped to wet his throat as they worked their way through the crack in the mountainside that led to the foothills on the opposite side of the ridge.
Brimmelle was not pleased with the explanation. “He has more abilities then we know. I told you he is dangerous.”
“How will we get past them on the way back to Farbank?” asked Wess.
“There are boats at Kingsfoot. We’ll take the river back downstream,” Emilen answered.
“I think there are only a dozen beasts remaining,” Thorik told them. “Thrashers don’t leave their dens to attack unless they easily outweigh their prey in numbers. So, I don’t see them as a threat to Farbank until they breed and grow in size. We’ll be back long before then.” Hearing a distant howl of the thrasher leader, he added, “But for now, we should get some distance between us.”
Chapter 9
Ov’Unday
Fate of Thorik Page 9