Fate of Thorik

by Anthony G. Wedgeworth

Thorik and his party made their way along the River’s Edge southern perimeter wall toward Pelonthal. The farther west they traveled, the climate became more hospitable with lower temperatures and comfortable humidity levels. Grass turned greener and pockets of timber continued to increase in size, as they continued to skirt the northern edge of the Mythical Forest.

  At the top of one of the many rolling hills, the Pelonthal Dovenar Wall could be seen running south from the River’s Edge Province. With each hill they walked over, the wall became more defined and details of the gate’s opening came into view.

  Getting sidetracked, again, Thorik questioned the wall acting as a dike. “Grewen, what holds the water inside River’s Edge? Wouldn’t it run out of the gates into the land beyond?”

  Chuckling at Thorik’s ever-inquisitive mind, he replied, “Only if they were open. The solid protective metal doors can be dropped, closing them tight from the inside to prevent any kind of attack. The pressure from the water continues to force them into a tight seal.”

  “Let’s focus on this gate right now,” Brimmelle suggested as he pointed forward. He was very nervous as they approached the entrance with an Unday as part of their party. Flashbacks of the Faralope incident at the Woodlen Gate kept popping into his head. “I don’t like this.”

  Grewen noted, “It’s fine. The only purpose of the guards at Pelonthal’s gate is to keep out war mongering Del’Unday or Fesh’Unday that may eat the local crops or livestock. Ov’Unday have been living in Pelonthal for decades.”

  Few words were spoken as they approached the beautifully designed wall. Decorating the outer wall, patterns of trees and hills could be seen at first glance, while plants and animals were seen with more effort. The wall was not carved out like the objects in Kingsfoot or the Woodlen Coliseum, instead they were artistically placed colored rocks that created various scenes of nature across its entire length.

  The road led to the gate. From this vantage point, Thorik could see both north and south walls of River’s Edge with the lake in between them, as well as the tops of several building could be seen above the surface near the center. Many more buildings existed in this location than where Thorik had crossed. He assumed it most likely meant more dead souls rummaging around as well.

  Thorik commented to Grewen, “The River’s Edge Lake looks wider here, and there doesn’t seem to be a straight path across without going through a building. I can see why no one passes here.”

  “Looks pleasant enough.” Brimmelle was unsure what all the fuss was about as they stepped up to the open gates.

  Thorik smirked at Brimmelle’s words as he politely waved at one of the guards on the wall. Cupping his hands on either side of his mouth, he called up to the guards. “Gentlemen. How are you on this fine day?”

  A guard walked over and peered down at the group. “All quiet, as usual. How are the roads toward Eastland? We heard of a devastating storm that blew out many bridges and towers in Southwind and the winds were heading northeast along the Southern Mountains. Did you get any of it?”

  “No sir, perhaps we left before it hit,” Thorik replied.

  “Praise your timing. She sounds like a mean witch.”

  The guard uniforms were of blue and white, uncomplicated and functional with no frills or lace. None the less, its simplistic look gave more of a clean and genuine look than the uniforms of Woodlen.

  “What be your business on this day?” the guard asked.

  “We come to visit friends.”

  “What part of Greensbrook?”

  “No, in Pelonthal.”

  The guard looked perplexed. “River-Green Road runs through the heart of the forest, straight to Greensbrook and then on to Southwind. There are no side roads to the lakeside cities in Pelonthal. Never been a need.”

  Grewen realized the potential confusion of the Nums and entered the conversation. “I used to live here and still have family in the capital. I know the way.” Looking at the sun as it lowered in the west, he knew they wouldn’t be able to make the trek through the forest before nightfall. “Do you have lodging for the night?”

  “Stables are large enough to hold you, as long as you get along with Faralopes and Uderipes,” he answered as Brimmelle flinched at the word ‘Faralope.’ “That should keep you dry and safe until morning. But even with daylight, you don’t want to get lost in the forest or the Myth’Unday will have at you.”

  A second guard came out from below, at the gate entrance. “There’ll be a fee for the lodging and you’ll still have to pay the same toll even if you’re not following the entire length of the road.”

  “Accepted. Thank you,” Grewen said as they walked under the hanging gate, which the giant had to bend down to get under.

  Gluic walked over to the toll man and emptied a few gold nuggets into his open hand.

  He shook himself out of his boredom as he gazed at the precious tender provided.

  Grewen smiled at her. “That should be enough,” he said before she doubled the already high price she had paid.

  Once inside, the road turned sharply to the left and followed along the inside of the wall for as far as they could see. The path was made of flat stones wedged together in a skillful manner. Over the years the odd-shaped stones had lost their luster and grass formed in the seams, but instead of looking old and unmanaged, it gave the road character and a charisma of its own. It felt comfortable and relaxing like Thorik’s path from his cottage to Farbank.

  They stayed the night without issue and began following the River-Green road first thing in the morning. They traveled south for several miles with the wall on their left and the thick forest to their right. The wall and road cut straight through the middle of the Mythical Forest with a forty-foot thick opening.

  “Here it is. This is the way.” Grewen had turned abruptly from the road and started walking toward the trees.

  The Nums looked around for some kind of sign.

  “How do you know?” Thorik asked.

  “It’s the seventh double-root tree we’ve seen since we entered the province.”

  Skeptical, Brimmelle looked into the dark forest and at the double-root tree, which were actually two trees that grew together in various twisting fashions. “Are you sure?”

  “I think so.”

  “And if you’re wrong?” Brimmelle asked in his commanding Fir voice used often on Thorik.

  “Then I’m wrong, and we’ll miss the city and have to sleep in the forest. Hopefully I got it right.” He entered the forest.

  Brimmelle did not like the response, or the fact that Grewen walked away without providing the Fir with an opportunity to argue the point. Now he had no choice but to follow the giant to continue the discussion.

  Thorik entered the dark woods, followed next by Avanda, Gluic and then Brimmelle.

  The forest was thick with ferns and trees with exposed roots on land that never seemed to flatten out. Small creeks and streams sporadically appeared from ground springs and ended under rocks and vegetation. The ground was covered with a soft red mud and clay that clumped onto everyone’s boots as well as Grewen’s feet. It made the constant up and down hike slippery and dangerous.

  The wind rustled the upper leaves of the trees and gave off a soft whistling sound, much like music. It was followed by soft voices in the background that could not be understood. Motions in the forest were seen out of the corners of their eyes but never where they were directly looking. The group had an uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched.

  Grewen kept his senses on alert. “I have the feeling the Myth’Unday are toying with us.”

  Brimmelle looked up at the enormous man. “You mean the little forest folk that Thorik was telling us about earlier? I’ll keep my eyes open for any flying frogs,” he sarcastically replied. His uncomfortable laugh was an attempt to block the noises in the woods.

  “Thorik never said the frog could fly.” Avanda glanced over at the other Num. “You didn’t, did you, Thorik?”
<
br />   Thorik smiled at Avanda’s attempt to defend him. “No, he didn’t fly. But I don’t think these Myth’Unday know of my good relations with Mr. Hempton. They may not take so kindly to our trespassing.”

  Thorik’s apprehension about the odd noises and soft voices that he heard was stiffening his stride. Mr. Hempton’s game had taught him that his fears were his worst enemy. It wasn’t easy, but he needed to control it and relax.

  Grewen’s small ears didn’t catch all the sounds that the Nums did. Unlike the rest, Gluic chatted away with the unseen guests. Then again, she had been doing that for years. Thorik wondered if she had been talking to the Myth’Unday all that time.

  After his taunting of Thorik was over, Brimmelle became edgy with each new sound from the forest. “Did you hear that? I heard footsteps following us.” He turned and walked backward as he scanned the terrain. It wasn’t more than a few steps before he fell from his haste and clumsiness. He crashed through a fern, down a small slope and into a muddy puddle with a loud splash.

  “Perhaps you’re right. I think I just heard something myself,” Grewen teased.

  Brimmelle’s backward fall had coated the Fir’s backside with thick clumps of wet red clay. But instead of lashing out in anger, he became alarmed by growls and snorts from every direction, interlaced with whispers and distant conversations. “We aren’t alone. There must be Del’Unday out here with us.” His heart quickened as the soft voices became louder while sounds of snapping branches and heavy footsteps increased in frequency and volume.

  “It’s not Del’Unday, Brimmelle. It’s the forest folk,” Avanda replied. “Oh Thorik, do you think I’ll be lucky enough to see a Myth’Unday.”

  “Keep your eyes open,” Thorik said kindly, hoping that they wouldn’t run into any. He had no desire for another Myth’ game.

  Brimmelle continued to panic. He was seeing movement in every direction, but couldn’t focus on any of it. The snapping of sticks and slushy foot falls in the mud continued to get closer to him. “We need to get out of here!”

  Of course, they had not seen or heard nearly what he had.

  Avanda smiled back at the Fir. “I thought you didn’t believe in them.”

  Thorik shook his head, cautioning her not to tease. Brimmelle was having a hard time in this forest and they needed everyone to keep their wits about them.

  With fresh flora crammed in her hair, Gluic walked back to Brimmelle. “Take these, dear.” She placed two black spherical smooth rocks in her son’s hand. “Hold them tight and they will calm you down.”

  “Your river rocks will not save us from the creatures in these woods.” Brimmelle quickly placed the stones in his side pouch.

  “Yes they will,” Thorik added. “The Myth-Unday have obviously chosen you to entertain them. They play on your thoughts and your fears. What you believe is real, is real… at least to you.”

  Grewen stopped and looked back at Thorik. “Nicely spoken, little man.” Turning back, he led his friends farther west, hoping they would see the city soon for the evening was not far off.

  Brimmelle followed behind as he continued to gawk at the trees that began to bend from their own power instead of the wind. He stopped in his tracks as the large double-root tree in front of him looked to be waiting for him as the other party members passed it by. It stared him down, from unseen eyes.

  The outstretched arms of the massive tree twisted its end branches toward him and a knot in front opened as a mouth. Brimmelle was frozen with fear for several seconds before he realized he was sinking in the thick mud. Attempting to lift his feet was useless as he sank even deeper.

  “Help!” Brimmelle screamed. “Come back,” he shouted. But the rest of the group was long gone, out of sight.

  Mud soon covered his knees as he struggled to free himself until he saw the large double-root tree step forward, dragging its root system out of the ground. Earth around it popped up in the air in small clumps as the roots lifted from beneath it.

  Watching the tree make its slow way toward him, Brimmelle spotted a brown squirrel running at him. It made tracks across the mud and onto the Fir’s shirt, leaving a trail of tiny footprints. The squirrel jumped up onto his shoulder and looked him square in the eyes before squeaking out a barrage of chattering sounds.

  “Go away, leave me alone,” Brimmelle demanded of the rodent.

  It replied back to him with an open mouth of large dangerous teeth and a violent scream, chilling Brimmelle to the bone. Only inches from his face, the squirrel continued to bare its teeth at him. Brimmelle attempted to slap it away, only to find his hands were stuck at his sides.

  Looking down he saw several roots from the oncoming tree had already wrapped themselves around him. Moving ever so closely, the tree purposely broke off one of its own limbs. The Fir was certain that the sharp end of the limb was to be used for thrusting into his chest.

  The squirrel ran down his arm and bit his wrist, causing his reflexes to move his arm forward within the restrictions of the roots. Moving to his front, the critter opened one of Brimmelle’s side sacks, which was no longer covered by his arm. It grabbed a few items out and raced back up to his shoulder.

  Screeching at Brimmelle, in its high pitched terrifying sound, it almost bit the Num’s nose off before it ran back down his arm. It then placed the two round black stones, which it had stolen from the sack, into the Fir’s hand.

  He grasped the items tightly as the tree reached down and picked him up out of the mud and into the air. Dangling like a lifeless sack of rice in its two largest limbs, the tree’s mouth opened. It was large enough to take him in with one bite.

  “Are you with us?” the tree’s thunderous voice asked.

  Brimmelle’s entire body shook with fear. “What?”

  The squirrel ran along the ground next to him and asked, “Brimmelle, do you feel any better?”

  “That sounds like Thorik’s voice.” He searched the woods for the boy.

  “He’s coming out of it,” the tree said in Grewen’s voice.

  Brimmelle’s eyes widened as he beheld a hideous Del’Unday Krupe walking toward him. Its black sharply cut armor covered everything but the glowing eyes that stared at Brimmelle. It spoke. “You just couldn’t keep the stones in your hand like I asked, could you?” His mother’s voice echoed out of the metal armor.

  Brimmelle tried to understand but couldn’t. Sounds and sights blurred and faded in and out. He tightly held his mother’s precious stones, which the squirrel had given to him. Closing his eyes, he hoped that it would all go away.

  Thorik’s voice hit Brimmelle’s ears clearly this time. “It’s just a hallucination caused by the Myth’Unday. Your own fears are betraying you. Pull yourself out of it.”

  “We’ve lost a lot of time, we need to hurry if we plan to make it out of here before nightfall,” Grewen said. “It’s not wise to stay the night in the depths of the Mythical Forest, especially if you have a chance not to.”

  Brimmelle slowly opened one eye to see Gluic, Thorik, and Grewen standing over him. “How did they do this to me?”

  Grewen set him on his feet. “It’s their forest. They can do what they want. Entertaining themselves by making your emotional thoughts come alive is what they enjoy, especially at night. So, let’s hurry so we don’t have to sleep here.”

  “Look everyone,” Avanda yelled, standing a few yards from Grewen. “I caught one of them. I have my own Myth’Unday.”

  Thorik and Grewen’s eyes widened and hearts sank at the thought of the potential issues to follow.

  “You what?” Thorik hoped he had heard her wrong.

  She smiled as she stepped up to the group with her hands cupped, top and bottom, around her prisoner. “I jumped around a tree and surprised her. She had just started to fly away when I caught her.”

  Grewen glanced around the forest for an attack from her Myth friends.

  “Wonderful!” Gluic moved closer to Avanda. “Let us see her. Show us her beauty and
her magic.”

  “I don’t want her to fly away,” Avanda said. “Can we put her in a sack to keep safe?”

  Thorik stepped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. This was just like he used to do in class in Farbank, when he wanted the students to think deeply about something before speaking to the class. “Avanda, I want you to concentrate on the Runestone that you are wearing around your neck. How does it apply to this situation?”

  Avanda thought about it and nodded in agreement. “We have a responsibility to all life. Only take what we need and give back what we can,” she recalled from his teachings and took a deep breath. “Goodbye, little winged lady.” She opened her hands to reveal a colorful butterfly. It flapped its wings a few times before it left Avanda’s palm and began circling around Gluic’s head.

  “Beautiful!” Gluic was obviously delighted. “I so miss them.”

  “But that’s not what I caught,” Avanda explained, as the winged insect flew once around the entire group before disappearing into the forest. “Honest, it wasn’t.”

  “We believe you.” Thorik was happy the way things turned out.

  The group hurried off in a race against the daylight. Up and down the small folds of land and through periodically dark shaded areas, from heavy tree growth, until it opened up into an airy slope leading to a distant city near the lake. The last bit of sun was falling as they made their way across an open grassy null.

  Night had fallen before they reached the city. Lanterns lined the streets and buildings with a glow of energy about them. Music and merry-making could be heard while passing the first row of odd shaped homes. No exterior boundaries or walls protected the city as the gradual increase of houses led them toward the inner city that was seated along the water’s edge.

  Thorik heard horns and flutes playing exciting new tunes while drums and string instruments supported them. Each instrument played its own melody that complimented all the others. This organized chaos was relaxing and uplifting at the same time.

  They rounded the corner to see a cobblestoned open area along the lake, filled with artists of all kinds. Painters and pot makers crafted their wears as sculptors and ironworkers showed off their latest creations. The well-lit lakeside festivities included musicians, chefs, acrobats and more. Jewelers developed custom designs for waiting customers who were already wearing a ridiculous amount of accessories. Flaming foods were served to patrons as they watched glassblowers create wonderfully colored glassware.

  Grewen sighed with relief. “Pelonthal City, the last safe haven for mixed blood.”

  The area teamed with life and vitality as all races and species coexisted together enjoying each other’s company. A young Mognin played tag in the streets with a Clupper and Num while a large bird-like man used his own feathers to paint on a canvas of flattened bark.

  Clothing styles varied as well as the fabric used, but for the most part the theme was loose fitting and relaxed. No guards were seen and no walls loomed over them as the people enjoyed life along the docks. It was hard to believe this was in the same kingdom as the other cities they had passed through.

  Thorik walked along the boardwalk looking out at the boats swaying back and forth from the shallow waves. A light breeze blew off the lake into town, cooling off the sun baked brick streets and buildings. It was a perfect evening to unwind from the grueling experiences over the past few weeks. The air had the smell of the beginning of fall when the first rush of mountain-air cooled off Farbank after a warm sticky day.

  Walking past artwork of wood, clay, and metal they stopped frequently admiring the ingenuity and creativeness that was required to make the objects. Shiny brass and metal sculptures of abstract ideas were on display, as well as statues of known and unknown animals.

  Thorik sat down on the side of a large fountain decorated with metal sculptures, some in the water while others were mounted along the outer short half-wall. Turning his back to the fountain, he watched his friends and family enjoy what the city had to offer. He only wished that Emilen were there to enjoy it with him.

  “Don’t turn your back on me, Fesh,” said a growling voice from behind Thorik.

  Thorik whipped around to realize that he had mistaken an old companion as one of the sculptures. “Draq? Is that you?” he said softly to the unmoving silver dragon perched on the fountain’s edge.

  “Yes. Why are you whispering?”

  Thorik was surprised and relieved that he wasn’t hearing things again. The Mythical Forest had him questioning everything.

  “Draq!” Grewen strolled across the open area toward them.

  “Grewen.” He nodded respectfully. “Good to see that you broke free. I knew they couldn’t keep a hold of you.”

  “Actually, Thorik freed me.” He looked down at the young man. “I’m in his debt.”

  Politely, Thorik added, “Actually Avanda helped. We make a good team.”

  Skeptical, Draq looked at the little Num and began to make his compliment to Thorik. “So you saved… Gluic?” He had interrupted his own sentence with the sight of the elderly Num.

  “What?” Thorik questioned.

  Draq continued in a controlled voice, “Gluic, you’re alive?” Lowering his eyebrows and looking back over at Thorik. “Thorik said you were dead.”

  “Oh, I was, dear. But I never let that hold me back before,” she replied.

  Draq paused before he shook off his perplexed expression. “I suppose Thorik saved you as well,” he remarked with dry sarcasm.

  Gluic shook her head. “No, there were too many guards. Thorik’s friend, the frog, and his butterfly companions saved us.” She was absolutely sincere in her statement.

  Draq looked up to Grewen for a real answer.

  While mouthing the word ‘frog’, Grewen used his hands to show the small size of the frog that had helped them.

  “I don’t want to know.” Draq hoped to end the confusing conversation.

  Brimmelle stepped up to the group, holding onto Avanda’s hand. “We are here also,” he alerted Draq of his freedom.

  “Good,” Draq replied with little interest. “Ambrosius’ son, Ericc, is no longer at my lair but we have no evidence that he has been captured by Darkmere. If he has been, Darkmere will want to be present before the Alchemists attempt his assassination. So, we need to find Darkmere. To do that, we need to determine where his next target will be. Unfortunately we haven’t found any leads yet.”

  “We know where he is going.” Gluic started digging for something within her many pockets as feathers and dried weeds tumbled out.

  “How is that possible?” Draq’s interest was piqued, yet he was skeptical that these Nums could accomplish a task which an E’rudite and dragon could not.

  She pulled out a large cylindrical crystal, the one she found in Kingsfoot Lake. Smiling and nodding, she held it out in front of them. “In here.”

  Draq’s head drooped as he realized that she didn’t have the information he needed and they were no closer to finding Ambrosius’ son today than a week prior. “I don’t think Darkmere is in your crystal.”

  “No, but his thoughts are trapped in here,” she told him.

  Draq lowered his head toward Gluic’s open hand and eyed the crystal. “How is that possible?”

  “Darkmere gave them to me when we held hands.” She gave a quick wink. “Go ahead, touch it and see.”

  Draq backed off. “I don’t touch anything having to do with Darkmere unless it involves his death.”

  Grewen reached out his hand only to retract it at the last second. “Last time I tried this you slapped my finger and told me I would suck the energy out of it,” he jested before he opened his palm for her to place it.

  “That’s true,” she reminded herself. “They still haven’t forgiven your species. Amazingly vast memories. They never do forget.” Turning to Thorik, she left Grewen slightly stunned by the comments.

  She set the crystal in the center of Thorik’s palm and closed his f
ingers around it. Gluic placed one of her hands on top of his fist and the other below. “Close your eyes. What do you see?”

  Immediately, visions of horrible acts flashed through his mind. Torture, pain, beheadings, mutilations, and more. Visions of Darkmere and Ambrosius in battle, crushing waves from the lake, sacrificing a child at an altar. He was obviously disturbed by the images and tried to turn his head away. “So much evil. So much hatred. I can see so much pain in his life.”

  “Where is he headed?” Draq barked.

  Thorik focused for a few seconds as he mentally asked the same question to the crystal. A room came into view. A man, Darkmere, stood at a table looking at a map. Pointing to the western coastline of Luthralum, a mountain range came into view. A break in the range exposed an arched line and words describing the location. “Australis Weirfortus,” Thorik responded as his eyes opened wide, breaking the trance-like state, which held him. “What’s a Weirfortus?”

  Grewen and Draq looked shocked as they turned their heads out to the lake, looking into the moonlit horizon.

  “He wouldn’t dare,” Draq growled.

  “To what end,” Grewen replied. “What possible purpose could he have?”

  Draq clinched his jaw. “If this vision is correct, this will be the end of Australis.”

  “As we know it?” Thorik questioned hoping for clarification of changes they may see.

  Grewen shook his head. “It could mean the end of our land and the end of all life that lives on it.”

  Chapter 30

  Friend or Foe