Fate of Thorik
The Num’s campfire sat in the center of the first huge hall of the city while the original fire could be seen just outside the main doorway flickering in the cold breeze. Snow was starting to accumulate in small drifts just inside the doorway.
It looked frigid and dismal to the group, as they kept warm near the second fire. It was not the cold of the winter storm that caused them to stay silent; it was the chill of emotional conflicts.
Emilen was cuddled up against Thorik under a shared blanket, her eyes sad and wet from weeping. “I miss them.”
“I’m sure they’re safe.” He leaned his head against hers to comfort her in her time of need. “Perhaps they went downstream to Farbank or Longfield. I’ll help you find them.”
“Thorik.” She gazed into his eyes. “You’re very sweet, but they could have traveled across the mountains to Shoreview for all we know.” She placed her finger up to his mouth as he began to respond with some heroic comment, but she did not want it. “Just hold me. If the Mountain King wishes for me to see my parents again, then it will happen. I will not waste your efforts, if it is not what he wishes for us to do.” Smiling at him, she brushed her fingers against his cheek and softly nodded her head, telling him that it would be all right.
Thorik felt a surge of love toward her, which he hadn’t anticipated. He didn’t know if it was from the soft strength in her voice or from the warmth of her hand against his skin. Pushing back the hood of his cloak, he held her hand against his neck, closed his eyes and leaned toward her.
Wess sat with Avanda, jealous of Thorik’s relationship with the curly redhead. He had sat on the opposite side of the fire from Ambrosius on purpose and kept his eyes focused on the elder human while sharpening his hunting knife. The rhythm of the grinding metal was nearly hypnotic as it echoed off the walls.
Grewen sat with his feet up against the lapping flames of the fire and wiggled his toes to get the flames between them. He sighed and groaned several times as the heat touched just the right spots.
Meanwhile, Brimmelle tried to get Gluic to sit down and warm herself under their blanket, but she was busy placing various stones near the fire. “Mother, please sit down before you catch yourself on fire.”
Ignoring him, she pulled another small river-rock out of her pouch and held it near her lips, speaking quietly to it for a short time. She traced it with her finger as she nodded; listening to what it had to say. Afterward, she gently placed the stone in a specific place up near the fire with the many others that were already warming. This ritual continued until she had nearly thirty stones and crystals laid out in various groups and distances. It wasn’t a particularly uniform placement but somehow it was organized in a naturally pleasing sort of way.
Grewen looked over at the stones as Gluic returned to Brimmelle and got under her son’s blanket. “Why the grouping? Wouldn’t they warm faster if they were evenly dispersed?” the Mognin asked.
She looked at the stones with a puzzled look on her face. “I’m not sure. I would guess they work better in groups than individually spread out.” The patterns made by the rocks pleased her. “Or perhaps some of them just don’t get along with others. I just put them where they tell me to.”
Grewen’s right eyebrow rose as he turned toward her with his smile. “Well, that’s very nice of them to take the pressure off of you in having to decide their resting spots.” There was a hint of sarcasm.
“Yes it is,” she concluded in a serious tone. “It’s a lot like us.” She nodded in agreement with her own statement. “We all make our own choices as to where we sit and who we like and dislike. I wonder if we’re as smart as the stones.”
Silence fell back on the group as they listened to the crackling of the fire and the wind blowing through the distant front doorway.
Ambrosius finally broke the silence with a question. “Thorik, do you believe in your heart that I killed these people?”
Thorik answered in a slow thoughtful manner. “I believe that it is in your nature to do whatever it takes to succeed, regardless of who gets hurt. Your focus is so strong that you might forget about the cost of your victory. You are much like Wess in that manner.”
Offended, Wess straightened up, but Thorik continued before the larger Num could speak.
“I also believe you are doing your best to help our world become a better place. And sometimes it takes fighting for what you believe is right and fighting those who would hurt you more in the long run. So, do I believe that you killed the Council and that you destroyed the Mountain King statue? I don’t know anymore. I want to believe you, but it’s difficult. It also shouldn’t matter to you if I believe you or not. After daybreak you will never see me again.”
“But it does matter, Thorik. It matters to me because you are what I’m trying to save. You, your family, your village, your way of life. There are people like you all across this land that will no longer be free to enjoy life anymore if I don’t help them by stopping Darkmere from conquering the free lands.” Ambrosius sighed at the thought of the terrible consequences. “I am not fighting for my personal gain. I am fighting for the freedom of others.”
Thorik absorbed his comments and then noted, “Good, I’m glad we could be of service to your cause and I hope we helped. May the King’s vision help you foresee trouble and his sword give you the strength to win your battles.”
“I can’t do this alone,” Ambrosius added. “I need your help to stop Darkmere.”
“My help? Why my help?” He glanced at Grewen’s massive size. “Surely you have more powerful friends at your call. You don’t need us. Gluic has healed you enough that you can travel without her. We are tired and want to return to home. It’s over. What more could we possibly give you?” Thorik concluded.
“Your friendship,” Ambrosius stated. “It is more powerful and reliable than the mighty Spear of Rummon. It’s not about powers or strength; it’s about attitude and desire. Real power comes to those with a drive to accomplish a goal. Real power is within you, my friend.”
“Where is this headed?” questioned Thorik.
“I need your help in leading my people.”
“Into war? I’m not the person you think I am.”
“No, not to war, to freedom.” Ambrosius continued, “It is quite simple. I need your help in finding out where Darkmere is so I can stop him from his oppressive takeover. He has many that follow him because they have no one else to trust, until now. Thorik, you have a gift. They will trust you. They will listen to you. And you can help them understand what he’s really trying to do.”
“I don’t think I can live up to those expectations.”
“Do you remember when I told you that you looked familiar?”
Thorik nodded.
“I’ve recalled where I’ve seen your face before. It was here, up on that mountain. Your face is the same as the Mountain King.” Ambrosius paused to let it sink in. “Thorik, I believe you are a descendant of the Mountain King.”
Brimmelle began to choke on the water he was drinking. Spraying a mist toward the fire, he struggled with the water as well as Ambrosius’ words.
Thorik smiled. “And seeing that the head is gone, I am supposed to just believe it to be true.”
Ambrosius thought about his lack of evidence as Brimmelle continued his coughing spell. “True, I have no proof. Although, Emilen could most likely tell you better than I.”
Emilen looked into his eyes. “You do look a lot like him.”
The words made Thorik feel good, but again there was no proof. “It is very nice that I have facial features similar to the Mountain King, but that does not prove that I am related in any way. Ambrosius, perhaps you weren’t aware that our scrolls say he died in the Great Emancipation before he had any children. Therefore, there are no descendants.”
Brimmelle nodded his head as he began to gain control over the water he had been choking on.
Ambrosius played his last game piece on the table. “Understood. But you did promise me that you would see t
his through. Surely you’re not going back on your word.”
“I did nothing of the kind. You asked for help to get to Kingsfoot. I have fulfilled that.”
Ambrosius answered back in a softer tone to defuse Thorik’s new edge. “Actually, I told you that I was heading upstream to Kingsfoot. I asked you if you would help me find the ones responsible and prevent their next attack.”
“You played your words on me.” Thorik protested, realizing Ambrosius was correct.
Brimmelle laughed at Thorik. “I warned you about this. Outsiders can’t be trusted. You would be a fool to follow him now that you know that he has a tongue of a serpent.”
Emilen voiced here opinion, “I think we should go. We can do this. If we can help in some way to save lives, then we should. You could be a great leader, Thorik. I can feel it.”
Her comments were quickly followed by Brimmelle’s rebuttal. “He’s no leader. A leader must take charge and make decisions that may not be popular. He doesn’t have it within him. His heart is too soft. He cares too much about how his orders will make others feel. He is now, and will always be, a follower.”
Brimmelle glared at Ambrosius. “I’ve had enough of you and your stories. It’s time we set our sights on Farbank before winter fully arrives. You’ve fill the boy’s head with ideas which will get us all killed. Leave him alone and go about your business. And for the record, the rest of us made no commitment to you, nor your quest to save the world.”
Feeling powerful from his little speech, the Fir looked back over at Thorik. “You’re no descendant of a king, you’re not a leader, and you’re not capable of turning the tide of some war. Most of all, you know I’m right. Don’t let this man entice you into believing that you’re more than you really are. You’re a Sec and you used to be a hunter, a questionable one I might add. And the only reason you hold the position of Sec is because of me.” Lying down, he got comfortable for his night of rest. “You’re lost without my guidance. You always have been.”
Thorik stared at his uncle and thought about his words before looking back to Ambrosius. “I’ll go with you.”
Ambrosius was relieved at his answer and was thankful that Thorik still trusted him.
Brimmelle, on the other hand, was outraged. “How dare you disobey me! After all I have sacrificed for you. You miserable ingrate, you will never become a Fir now.” Suddenly aware of his surroundings, and his lack of control within them, he stopped his rant and gave Thorik a disappointed fatherly look before rolling over and turning his back to him. “I won’t be there to save you this time.” He mumbled loud enough for his nephew to hear.
Emilen smiled at Thorik. “I will be there for you.” Her words put any criticism from Brimmelle out of his head so he could get a good night’s sleep. For the first time in his life, Thorik felt liberated.
Wess had been watching Thorik and Emilen. Their relationship had been getting steadily stronger since the river-cut crossing, and if it wasn’t broken up soon he may never have a chance with her. All he needed was to wait for an opening. And if he knew the Sec well enough, Thorik himself would cause that opening. Hopefully it would happen soon, prior to them being separated.
Thorik’s Log: 17th of the 10th month of the 649th year.
Emilen and I have joined Ambrosius, Draq, and Grewen to travel to the Woodlen Province in an effort to prevent the destruction of the kingdom by Darkmere. I hope I won’t regret this decision.