Leaving their companions at camp, the Nums followed the stream through the woods as it mated with other water sources and gradually grew in size until it poured into a deep fast paced river.
It was just prior to that junction where an old wooden bridge spanned the stream, allowing a dirt road to follow the river along their side of the large waterway. The far side of the river hosted an old stone and mortar wall which reached up to the top of the forest’s canopy.
Thorik was in awe of the structure’s size. “Why would anyone need a wall of such magnitude?”
Brimmelle glared at the unnatural site in the middle of the lush forest. “Most likely to keep their people locked up inside.”
Glancing back and forth, Thorik couldn’t see any gateway beyond the wall. With map in hand, he added a quick sketch of their location. “I suggest we go upstream.” They had been going upstream most of the trip, since they left Farbank. Going downstream somehow felt like they were heading backward.
“No, the entrance is downstream,” Emilen corrected him.
He scanned for any obvious reason why she would contradict him, but saw nothing. “Why do you say that?”
“When my father was ill, I took the summer trade visit for him. I’m pretty sure I traveled across this bridge.”
Once again, Thorik searched up and down the long road that followed the river and wall. “It all looks about the same in both directions. It could have been any bridge that you recalled.”
“No, it was this bridge.”
He made a few more notes on his map. “There could be hundreds of crossings in these parts, how can you tell them apart?”
“Thorik, you have never been outside of the King’s Valley. It could be the only bridge in the entire kingdom, as far as you know.”
Holding his map before him, he tried to envision the idea. “I find that hard to believe with all the streams around here. Are you suggesting it is?”
“No! I’m not suggesting anything like that.”
“Okay. Okay. I just wanted to make sure we head the correct way.”
“Next time, I would appreciate it if you would just listen to me, like you do Ambrosius.” Emilen said with a verbal stab.
Wess followed Emilen onto the bridge. He hoped that this was the chance that he was looking for to start getting close to her again. “I don’t see how you put up with someone that doesn’t trust your judgment.”
He received no reply from Emilen.
Unsure why she was upset, Thorik tucked his map back into his coffer.
Brimmelle looked over at Thorik in another disappointed moment. “You won’t listen to anyone but Ambrosius, will you? The world is filled with good and evil people and you need to learn who you can and cannot trust.” Brimmelle lowered his thick wild eyebrows and looked straight at Thorik. “You can’t rely on anyone but your own kind. You can only trust Nums,” he said, thumping his finger against Thorik’s chest. Brimmelle turned and headed out to catch up with his mother, who was already on the far side of the stream.
After putting his pack on, Thorik slowly started behind the others. “I don’t believe that, Uncle.” His voice was far too soft for Brimmelle to hear, which was intentional.
Avanda had waited on the small wooden bridge for him and then walked alongside Thorik for a few moments before taking his hand in hers. “I believe there are good and bad in every type of people.” Remembering Grewen and Draq she added, “Or creature.”
Thorik didn’t reply as they continued to walk along the road avoiding the mud puddles from recent showers that accumulated in the wagon wheel grooves. The warmth of holding Avanda’s hand made the travel less depressing.
It wasn’t long before they reached an old thick stone bridge crossing the robust river. With missing stones, it was poorly maintained and was built strictly for function with no artistic designs. Across the river was an area of the Dovenar Wall that jutted out slightly on both sides of a gated entrance. The wall turned at a right angle and continued into the Woodlen Province from both sides of an exterior overhead gate. It continued into Woodlen for approximately forty feet and stopped at a second similar gate. The catwalk above the wall continued over both gates with several guards posted upon it.
A large solid metal door hovered horizontally overhead, hinged near the first gate. The removal of a single pin would allow the door to swing down against the wooden seal, preventing any attacks in a moment’s notice. The idea of being in the way of it when it swung down made Thorik very uncomfortable.
Wess led them over the bridge and under the first gate before falling in line behind several locals entering and waited their turn to pass the second gate and then enter the city.
At the front of the line was a creature-pulled wagon of goods. It had traveled a quarter of the way between the two vertically lifted gates before stopping to be inspected. The wagon was followed by three fishermen carrying the day’s catch and then the Nums. While waiting for the guard to finish talking to the wagon owner, Thorik moved up in front of Wess to lead them into the province. Brimmelle and Wess pulled him back behind them to make sure he didn’t say anything they all would regret.
“Where’s your permit for this Fesh?” asked the sergeant on duty about the creature harnessed to the front of the wagon. “No Unday is allowed in Woodlen without proper papers unless they are dead and will be used for skins and meat, especially here in the city of Pyrth.”
An elderly man sat on the front of his wagon holding the creature’s reins. “I have recently captured this Fesh’Unday and have not had a chance to register it.”
Stepping up to the creature, the sergeant inspected the beast. Large hairy hooves braced the two thick legs under its heavy center while the long tail acted as a counter weight to its wide and stubby neck and head. Covered in thinned, coarse, white hair over black skin, the Fesh’Unday snarled at the military official who was now standing next to it.
“Wild Faralopes are untamable creatures that are dangerous and outlawed.” The sergeant raised his gauntlet and slapped it against the creature’s back. “You will not receive a permit for this type of a Fesh unless it is for the Melee Matches.” He grabbed the creature’s mouth with both hands to hold it closed as he used his thumbs to check its teeth and gums. “Looks like we’ve got a nice one here, she might be entertaining to watch in a fight at the Coliseum.”
“She’s not for sale nor for fighting,” the wagon owner noted. “I need her to haul my goods. The law states that I have one day to register her. Now leave her alone.”
Releasing the Fesh’Unday, the sergeant walked over to the man. “Listen up Plebeian, don’t you tell me what to do. I’m Sergeant Borador. Here in Pyrth, I am the law. I could kill this beast right now and throw you in prison for talking back to me and still sleep well tonight.” Grabbing the reins from him, the sergeant began to whip the weak man with them. “You need to think twice before disrespecting Gentry.”
The old man fell to his side from the lashings, causing the sergeant to reach farther with the reins. The tugging caused the Faralope to rear backwards, losing control and slamming her way free of the wagon’s arms. Spooked, it ran wildly.
“Gates down!” commanded a guard from above. The metal rods of the gates were thicker than Thorik’s thumb, and were separated at a hand width apart. Hanging by chains that coiled around large spools on the far side of the wall, guards released the locking lever that held the gates vertically up in the air.
Both mighty gates came crashing straight down; one just missing Thorik. The first set separating the men Nums from the women Nums.
The Sec looked at the downed gate and realized he was fortunate not to have been crushed under its tremendous weight. His thankfulness for a lucky break came to an end once he realized he was trapped between the two gates with a crazed rampaging creature.
Avoiding the strong legs of the Faralope, the three Nums ran behind and then under the wagon for safety.
Chaos ensued as the Fesh’Unday made its way behind the wa
gon as it began to lap the caged area.
Arrows and spears began to fly from above as everyone except the sergeant ran for cover. An arrow shot into one of the fishermen’s legs making him fall, only to be trampled by the beast on its next loop. Several spears broke through the wagon’s deck nearly catching the three Nums that hid under it.
Sergeant Borador calmly watched the mayhem as he grabbed one of the thrown spears out of the ground. Waiting for the creature’s next lap around the temporary pen, he positioned his weapon over his shoulder and behind him, ready to release it with all of his might.
Racing with fear in her eyes, the panicked Fesh’Unday moved out from behind the wagon only to receive the blade of the sergeant’s spear in her chest. She fell to the ground in a cloud of dust as additional arrows shot from above to ensure the sergeant’s safety.
Coiling up the chain, the gates lifted, allowing several guards to enter the area.
The sergeant admired his handiwork. “Take the beast in for butchering and push that wagon out of here.” He gave his men their orders before addressing the old man again. “If I ever see you trying to enter my gate again I’ll be sending you in for butchering.”
The elderly man and his wagon were taken out across the stone bridge and dumped onto the dirt road.
With their day’s catch flattened into the ground, the two remaining fishermen carried their injured friend into Woodlen to find him some medical treatment.
Emilen, Avanda, and Gluic caught up to their party as they passed the sergeant’s watchful eye. He seemed to like the quiet and obedient Nums with their heads down and eyes lowered, and he let them pass without issue.
Beyond the extremely thick province wall was a large common area for military personnel, including blacksmith shops, armories, a mess hall, sleeping barracks and stables. Chained up Unday waiting instructions and had subtle conversations with each other. Those with muzzles communicated with eye movements and head gestures. Beyond this area was a smaller defensive wall that entered into a commerce area just past two large open wooden doors.
Concerned, Thorik didn’t like the idea of seeing any creature in chains. “Do you suppose they are Ov’Unday? They look more docile than the Del’Unday we’ve seen.”
Brimmelle grumbled with disgust. “It doesn’t matter. They‘re all the same. Wild, dirty, and dangerous, like the one that just about killed us at the gate.”
“I don’t think they are all like that. How about Grewen and Draq?” Thorik asked.
“Draq is without a doubt dangerous. I think Grewen can be as well, if provoked. And he’s definitely dirty. Either way, none of these creatures should be trusted.” Brimmelle ended the conversation by turning away from the stables and toward the market place.
Despondent faces were common upon the enslaved creatures chained to walls as well as to the fronts of various military carts and wagons. One creature was seen tied to a post as it was being whipped in punishment for some wrongdoing.
Thorik felt terrible about how they were being treated and extremely guilty about not doing anything to help them. “This is wrong. We can’t just leave without trying to help.”
Brimmelle fired back over his shoulder, “Leave it alone, Thorik. Every issue in this world is not our responsibility to fix. We’re over our heads as it is, so unless you plan on taking on the entire military single handily, I suggest you pay attention to what we came here for.”
Feeling uncomfortable at the Fir’s agitated tone, Avanda moved up toward Gluic and the rest of the Nums that had continued walking.
Slowly following Brimmelle, the sight of slavery hit Thorik hard; he wouldn’t give the issue up. “Ambrosius wouldn’t stand by and allow such things to continue. He would take action and make a difference. He would change things.”
Brimmelle turned around and stopped Thorik in his tracks at his disobedient tone. “Change? Ambrosius has corrupted your mind. Change is not what he has led you to believe. What has it done for us?” His voice raised as he lectured his nephew. “We were nearly killed by thrashers, living statues, a freezing winter storm, and a racing Fesh’Unday. For what I ask you, for what?” Ending with a huff and a glare that weakened Thorik’s legs. The Fir was at his limit.
Thorik heard the words and struggled to answer. “To help others. To prevent another attack.”
“What attack? As far as we know, Ambrosius could have caused the first one on the council. And even if he didn’t. To save who? These people?” He looked at the military and their enslaved Unday. “Why is it our responsibility to take care of their problems? Shouldn’t they deal with it themselves? When have we ever asked for outside help?” It was a rhetorical question, but he waited for Thorik to absorb the obvious answer. “I don’t trust outsiders.”
Thorik countered his claim. “That’s not true. How about Emilen? She didn’t grow up in Farbank, so technically she’s an outsider.”
“She is a Num, born in our spiritual city of Kingsfoot. It’s completely different.”
“That’s the reality of this, isn’t it? This is about other species more than about outsiders. What is it about them that you fear?”
Brimmelle rebelled against the questioning with a roar that put Thorik back into his place. “Don’t you take that tone with me, Sec Dain. You owe me your life for more than one occasion. The least you could do is to show me some respect.” Quiet fell as Brimmelle straightened his clothes and puffed out his chest while looking at Thorik’s browbeaten response. Softening his voice to a stern fatherly level he added, “There is nothing wrong with keeping things the same. Don’t you like our life in Farbank?”
Thorik cast his eyes down to the ground. “Yes, very much so.”
“So, why would we risk changing it by deluding our minds with their thoughts? The Mountain King has provided us with rules to live by, and as long as we do, he keeps the crops strong and the fish plenty.” Brimmelle looked at Thorik’s lowered head and knew he had captured the obedient boy he once knew. “Let us stop this march across lands that are not ours. We need to take everyone home. This is not our fight, nor our responsibility. Our obligation is to Farbank. We should be making sure that our people are safe.” Brimmelle was finally comfortable that he had won his case and they would soon be home with things back to normal.
Thorik looked over at Avanda and Emilen and realized the danger he had put them in. Nodding his head a few times, he admitted Brimmelle was right. “Yes, we need to bring them home to safety… once we finish this last request for Ambrosius.”
Brimmelle was not pleased about Thorik’s last comment, but before he could say anything, Thorik continued.
“I made a commitment to Ambrosius to find out if it was safe for him to enter the province and I intend to live up to it. The Mountain King’s words in the Responsibility Rune Scroll state-”
“I know what the scroll states,” Brimmelle interrupted. He wasn’t going to fight the words of his own teaching. Besides, he had won. They were going home, very soon.
Thorik and Brimmelle quickly caught up to the others as they reached the open gates leading out of the military area.
Entering Pyrth’s market area, Thorik noticed that all of the vendor stands were on raised tiled areas, a few fingers above the vine-infested street of worn and broken flat stones. Unlike the tents of Farbank, these were solid structures with overhangs that routed rain away from their patrons.
The other obvious difference was how they conducted business. Bickering and loud haggling back and forth took the place of pleasant conversations and updates on family members. They also did not exchange or trade goods. Instead customers provided metal pieces much smaller than his Runestones to pay for their items.
Respectively leery of humans in this city, they found a Num selling her fruits and vegetables. Produce seemed so much larger and vibrant back at the Harvest Festival, but they were famished and wished to eat.
Greeting the fellow Num with a cheerful attitude, Thorik hoped to start up a pleasant conversatio
n. Periodically he would stop in hopes that she would join into his dialog. Perplexed, she stared at him waiting for his selection of items.
He finally realized that she was not going to add to the discussion, so he chose the items they required. Once completed she requested payment.
“I have no metal pieces. Will you accept a mink skin?” Thorik asked and received his answer in her impatient facial expression.
Gluic stepped forward with her open bag of gems and gold nuggets. “Maybe I have something she would like?”
“Mother, she doesn’t want your river rocks.” Embarrassed, Brimmelle helped her put the pouch of stones away.
Thorik had to come up with some form of payment. They hadn’t eaten in a few days. Thinking for of options, he pulled out his sack of Runestones. Pausing, he questioned his possibilities one more time before emptying a few into his palm.
The vendor’s eyes lit up. “They look authentic. Where did you get those?”
“From the Mountain King,” Thorik replied, as she took one from his hand. “Would you accept one as payment?” he asked, and yet he hoped in a way she would say no.
She inspected it closely. “These are the real things? How did you come by these?”
Thorik nodded. “They were given to me by my parents.”
She looked the group over and then returned her attention to Thorik. “So you must be a Fir. I apologize for my rudeness. I know that the Terra King has several groups of spiritual leaders that journey for him. I just didn’t realize that you were one of them.”
Brimmelle nearly fell backwards from the shock of Thorik being called a Fir. “Wait! I am Fir Brimmelle Riddlewood the Seventh of Farbank,” he corrected her. “These are my followers.” He had established their significance with his words as well as with a change of his voice. Suddenly feeling important again, and in charge, he knew things would soon be getting better. It had been a long time coming.
“Joyous,” the vendor said. “And I am Mira Shovell of Pyrth. I have so enjoyed your master’s resurgence. It has been inspirational to us as of late, seeing that we are under constant threat of being attacked by the Altered Creatures.” She continued her conversation as she loaded up several items into a sack for them. “Ever since the Prominent of Pyrth left for the Grand Council, the Terra King has been here to help keep our hopes up.”
Engaged in her comments, Thorik couldn’t believe his luck. “He’s here?”
She looked a little confused. “Of course, aren’t you a part of his core spiritual leaders?”
Emilen thought quickly. “Yes, however we have just returned from a lengthy special mission for the Terra King and haven’t seen him yet. Could you tell us where he is?” Emilen smiled and used her natural charm in hopes that the lady would accept the story.
Mira handed Emilen the sack of fruit and vegetables. “At the theater. Today’s resurgence will start soon.” She looked back at Thorik and held up the Runestone that she had taken from him. “I’ll take this one as payment.”
Reluctantly, Thorik parted with the object and tucked the rest back in his sack before tying it off and storing it away. “Where is the theater?”
Mira pointed down the main street and explained some simple directions as she watched Thorik get out a blank parchment to start drawing a map of the area. He was quick and accurate but left out many details for now that he would fill in once he had time to sit down.
Brimmelle finished his meal before nudging Thorik. “Put that away and eat something. We all need our strength.” As ordered, Thorik returned his notes to his scuffed up wooden box and grabbed a handful of berries to eat as they walking down the main road.
The road was filled with large two story houses and shops that peddled everything from jewelry and clothing to house goods and foreign wares. A bright glazing of color and fascia boards covered ancient buildings in hope of looking fresh and new. But once Thorik looked past the exterior glamour he saw foundations cracked and walls struggling to support ceilings, while watermarks on the walls exposed prior rain leaks in the roofs.
Avanda did not see any of those things; instead she ingested the energy of the city with all of its hustle and bustle of the busy streets. The color of signs and clothes exploded in a vibrant collage everywhere she looked. “This is amazing. I never knew there was so much life and excitement outside of Farbank.”
“It’s not real, these people are living a fabrication of their own making,” Thorik responded as he saw many people wearing old and dirty clothes under their crisp and clean robes and coverings.
Emilen looked over at him. “You sound more like Brimmelle every day. Why are you picking it apart? Just enjoy it.”
Wess couldn’t resist adding to Emilen’s sting. “She right, Fir-pet, you need to be less critical. Start enjoying life like these people do.” He used the opportunity to once again get between Thorik and Emilen, by stepping in front of him, causing Thorik to slow down.
Thorik fired back, “We have a specific task to get done here. We aren’t on a holiday.”
Wess turned around and walked backwards, keeping pace with Emilen. “You have a task, not us. We didn’t make any commitments. Besides, who said you can’t enjoy yourself while performing it?” Once completed, he spun around on the ball of his foot to keep up with Em.
Thorik let the conversation end. For years he had heard Wess’ speech of letting go of rules and responsibilities to enjoy life. Right now the Sec was more interested in finding out more about the Terra King and overhearing any comments about Ambrosius. In doing so, he isolated himself from his group, like he usually did when in deep thought. He fell behind the other Nums as they continued toward their destination.
Stopping periodically to look in the large picture windows of the shops, Wess and Emilen enjoyed seeing the foreign items for sale. They pointed and laughed as they moved from shop to shop, guessing what the use was for many of the unknown objects. Feeling right at home in the city they greeted oncoming traffic with waves and smiles as though they were locals themselves.
Thorik was jealous of Wess and Em’s easy rapport with the locals as well as each other. He felt threatened and inept as he walked down the road behind them, pondering his dilemma. Quietly he talked down his emotions. “Now is not the time to take issue with it. Now is the time to get information and get back to camp. I will deal with this later.”
He felt several taps on his hand before looking over to see Avanda trying to wake him from his own world. “What is it, Avanda?”
She grabbed his hand before replying. “Did you see that lady back there with the three large feathers for a dress? How about the man walking on sticks as tall as Grewen? Or the kids with the blindfolds trying to run across the street without getting hurt? These people are crazy. Isn’t it great?” She was beaming from ear to ear.
Avanda had several reasons to be pleased. First of all, they were in a fun place with a lot of new things to see. Second of all, she was happy to see Wess and Emilen spending time together again. She didn’t want Thorik’s feelings hurt, but she had wanted her uncle to meet someone soon so he would be happy and Avanda could have cousins to play with.
Thorik smiled at her unusual appetite for the insane as they followed the rest of the Nums down the crowded road.
Brimmelle and Gluic led the group around a corner toward the gathering. Stopping for a moment, she searched the ground for a moment. “There are no good stones here.”
“I’m sure they are the same here as they are in the King’s River Valley.”
She knelt down a few times as they walked and picked up a few small rocks. “No, the stones here are dead. They don’t speak.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing you brought your own stones to talk to.”
They turned again to see hundreds of people lined up to enter a large open amphitheater. The crowd started to flood in and swept Brimmelle and Gluic quickly in its tide as they were washed to the far side of the theater before they could sit down. They watched
as the rest of their group was moved into seats near the entrance.
Cramped already, additional audience members continued to push their way in on the sides until there was no room left on the long arched stone benches that surrounded the lower stage. Standing room along the sides quickly filled as Brimmelle started to feel claustrophobic.
The remaining four members of Thorik’s party only made it as far as the seating near the entrance before they were blocked by others. Split into two groups on far sides and one row behind, Thorik was just happy that they didn’t get separated even more before sitting down.
Several red cloaked guards kept the front seats open for the Gentry. These people were the upper class and apparently had better privileges. They wore nicer garments and jewelry and seemed to walk stiffer and slower than the rest. The Gentry were humans, whereas the Plebeians were a mixture of human and Polenum races.
“I heard that the Terra King will be granting healings today,” a member of the crowd behind Thorik commented.
Another added, “He is also supposed to select his new core spiritual leaders.”
Thorik was confused and asked the two men behind him about their statements. “What happened to his last core of leaders?”
“They were sent off on a quest. Now he needs a new group for another important task,” one answered back.
Large wooden hexagons with rune symbols had been moved onto the stage followed by large signs painted to look like scrolls with large text for the audience to read. The stagehands finished placing the props on stage as Brimmelle read the scrolls from afar. He was instantly upset as he noticed missing words and passages.
Thorik also noticed these right away and made comments to Emilen and Wess.
“They couldn’t write down everything on the scroll and still expect us to read it.” Emilen tried to calm Thorik. She was still energized from the excitement of the city and the current crowd.
Thorik looked over across the way to see Brimmelle upset and having many words with other audience members near him. The dispute went on for a short time before Gluic ordered him to sit down and be quiet. He was obviously not pleased with the situation.
Chapter 22
Terra King
Fate of Thorik Page 27