A distant red ember of light flickered in the wind a few miles from the Num’s camp. Bakalor’s son, Grub, patiently waited for Ambrosius to appear. Half buried, in order to feel every vibration made at Thorik’s distant campsite, the lesser demon could track the footfalls of each individual in the camp. None, however, were caused by the visitor he waited for.
Well-prepared roots had been eaten and the travelers had begun getting settled in for the night. Thick clouds rolled in over the desert, preventing them from seeing stars or even the location of the moon. Yellowish light from the crackling campfires were the only light source, as shadows of the group flickered against the dry prairie.
Small gusts of cool air frequently blew down from the heavy clouds, fanning the campfire flames and kicking up dirt. The smell of fresh rain was present but not yet seen or felt.
Grewen regularly stoked the fire, Thorik cleaned up the camp, and Brimmelle complained about his lack of comfort. It was their routine, which took place every night at camp. In a way, it gave them comfort and a sense of security to have a predictable pattern, especially seeing that nothing else in their lives right now was stable and reliable.
After making notes about their journey and placing the papers in his coffer, Thorik closed the wooden box and walked over to Bryus and Avanda at a smaller second campfire. “Why don’t you join us for a little while?”
Glancing past the Num at Grewen and Brimmelle, the Alchemist dismissed the idea. “Not in the mood for socializing,” he said before noticing Thorik’s coffer. “Nice prattle box. I gave a set of those to the King when the twins were born.”
Thorik looked down at his coffer, which he had always thought to be extremely unique, only now to find out that others had the same thing. “Thanks.”
Bryus quickly returned to showing Avanda the insides of a large beetle he had cracked open. “This is his poison sack. It is especially useful for many charm spells on Del’Unday.”
Avanda was very attentive to what he was teaching. She had been so limited in the past with only what she had taught herself using the magical items from within a found purse. It was extremely liberating to know she wouldn’t be restricted to those enchanted objects any longer.
Thorik stood silently and watched the lesson. He was unsure which bothered him more; the concern that she was more interested in learning from the Alchemist instead of Thorik, the distrust that was building due to Bryus’ lack of interest in opening up and becoming part of their group, or the fear of Avanda learning more magic. His former Runestone student had caused more problems than assistance when casting her limited spells. There was also the fact that Thorik had become enamored with her, whether he wished to admit it or not. And these feelings were starting to affect his judgment.
“Avanda, I’m not sure you should be using magic.” Occasionally Thorik would speak in a fatherly tone, and this was one of them.
Tilting her head, her shoulders sank at the thought. “What? Why not?”
“It’s dangerous,” he replied, holding back his desire to give in to her needs. He battled his emotions to display himself as the leader he wished to become, instead of giving in to the kindness he wished to show in an effort to make her happy. Nevertheless, he knew this was the right thing for everyone.
“I’ve saved us several times with my spells.” A sour look appeared upon her face.
“You’ve also nearly cost us our lives twice as many times,” he said sternly.
“But, now with Bryus’ teaching me, I’ll be better.” Her tone was solid and her words were evenly paced. She was standing her ground.
Thorik knew her words to be true, and yet it concerned him that she would have such magical powers. “I’m sure you will, but I just don’t think it’s right for you to wield these types of forces.”
“Why? Because I’m a girl? Because I’m younger than you?”
Danger signals flashed in Thorik’s mind as he quickly determined how he was going to prevent himself from looking like the villain in this conversation. “That’s not what I said. I mean you, as well as myself and all other Nums. We aren’t supposed to be using mystical powers and casting spells. It’s just not our way. I don’t think we can control the elements of nature safely.”
“Oh, I see.” She stood up and brushed herself off. “So, we Polenums shouldn’t be dabbling in things outside the norm…like using a Runestone to see the souls of the dead.”
It was now Thorik’s shoulders that softened and rolled forward. “That’s different-”
Quick to interrupt, Avanda continued. “And we would never harbor weapons that have unnatural strengths and powers, such as the Spear of Rummon.”
“I needed it to save our lives-”
Avanda walked toward him, forcing him around the small campfire. “Nor would any of our kind travel with Del’Unday or Ov’Unday, for that would be wrong as well.”
Stumbling past Bryus, Thorik continued to walk backward as he kept a healthy arm’s length from her. “You can’t suggest that it was my idea that we-”
Smiling, she was confident she had the upper hand as she continued to stop him in mid-sentence. “And how safe would you say it is for us to be traveling to the underworld and back while in search of a magical book to give us the spell to free your grandmother from an enchanted dagger?” Stopping at the end of her long and pointed question, she stood rigid with her hands tightly on her hips.
Thorik tripped and fell to the ground as he continued to stare at her. “I’m just telling you what Ambrosius told me. He warned us that magic was dangerous and we should stay clear of it.”
Crossing her arms, she stood at his feet, eyeing him down.
His words caught Bryus’ attention. “Ambrosius?”
Thorik raised himself from his back up onto to his elbows as he caught wind of a way out of Avanda’s verbal trap. “Yes, Ambrosius,” he said to Bryus. “You knew him. His words carry great weight, wouldn’t you say?”
Bryus’ cheek twitched at the name of the old E’rudite. “Powerful man. He has a lot of questionable ties. But when it came down to it, he could find the most elusive artifacts.”
“Artifacts?”
“Ah, yes. The treasure of Joral, the pearl of Wespee, Hesek’s belt, and many more were reclaimed by him. He was quite the scavenger when it came to rare antiquities.”
Thorik squinted his face, perplexed by the comments. “He isn’t like that. He had a larger look at the world. He had no time for trinkets, enchanted objects or treasures from the past.”
Bryus’ grin made Thorik feel very uncomfortable. Nearly evil in appearance, the man’s face seemed to morph before the Num’s eyes as the light from the flames added to the effect. “Ambrosius is one of those treasures from the past.”
Feeling uncomfortable, Thorik scooted away and stood up next to Avanda. Suddenly she seemed safer to him.
“Don’t you know who he is? Don’t you know the story?” Bryus’ voice was rougher and slower than normal, adding an extra element of strangeness to him.
“Of course, I do. He’s Ambrosius Dovenar. The rightful king of the Dovenar Kingdom.”
“He gave up that right!” Bryus corrected loudly followed by a severe twitch to his cheek.
“Yes, I know. But only because he felt that he and his brother, Darkmere, were tearing it apart.”
Placing his hand over his cheek and eye, Bryus pressed firmly to stop a facial tic. “They have been, ever since they were children.”
“Yes, and Ambrosius didn’t feel E’rudites should be ruling a kingdom for men. So, he created the Grand Council to rule the land in his stead. This council was-”
“Don’t tell me about the council, Num,” Bryus broke in. “I was once on the council. I know what really happened there, not you!”
“I wasn’t implying that I did. You had asked me if I knew who Ambrosius was.”
Bryus grunted. “What a weak attempt to describe a man who helped design this land and all the history that followed.”
“I admit
, he was…is,” the Num corrected himself, “a great man to whom we owe many a gratitude, but he himself told me of his birth into the kingdom line. He’s far younger than you make him out to be.”
Bryus jumped from his seat, grabbed a rock, and charged toward Thorik.
Thorik pushed Avanda back out of the way before crossing his arms in front of his face in an effort to block the rock from hitting him. But instead of being hit with the object, Bryus pulled Thorik’s arm forward and slapped the rock hard into his hand.
“What is this?” Bryus pointed to the rock he had just given Thorik.
Bewildered at the emotional instability of the man, he cowered slightly as he looked at what lay in his hand. “It’s a rock.”
“And where do rocks come from?”
“The ground?”
“No, you fool. Larger rocks. That rock used to be part of a larger rock before time had its way with it. Perhaps it sat up high on one of these mountains before it broke off and rolled or washed down into the valley. Do you understand?”
Thorik nodded. “Yes.”
Bryus smiled, for his point had been understood.
“But what does this have to do with Ambrosius?”
Bryus’ eyes popped open with disbelief. “I just explained it to you.”
“Well, maybe you need to do it without using a rock.”
Bryus snatched the rock out of the Num’s hand and held it uncomfortably near Thorik’s face. “This is Ambrosius.” He then pointed up toward the peaks of the mountains. “That is Wyrlyn.”
“Are you saying that Ambrosius is a descendent of Wyrlyn?”
“You’re getting closer.”
“Surely you’re not saying that he once was Wyrlyn?”
“Oh, you’re a quick one, aren’t you? Figure that out all on your own?”
Thorik ignored the condescending tone from Bryus. “How can one person who lived several thousand years ago become a man who was born a half a century ago?”
Bryus was stunned. “You honestly have never heard this tale?”
“Honestly!”
A grin of questionable intent gleamed across his face. He seemed mad with excitement over the opportunity to discuss such matters. “The story of Wyrlyn and Irluk.” His hands waved about for effect.
Avanda started to get excited as well, she liked the nonsensical ways of Bryus. “Irluk was involved?”
“No questions!” Bryus snapped, as he fluttered his fingers in the air as he prepared for the story.
“Wyrlyn was the greatest E’rudite, as well as the first. Taught by the Notarians themselves, he was granted special privileges to help design Terra Australis once the ocean waters were removed from the valley. The Notarians had little interest in structures or devices outside of the Weirfortus Dam, the Lu’Tythis Tower and a few others. It was Wyrlyn and his apprentice, Irluk, who developed the rest.”
“His apprentice?” Thorik asked.
“No interruptions!” Bryus ordered. “Wyrlyn and Irluk created magnificent structures and enchanted items that survived long after the Mountain King War and the murder of most of the Notarians.”
Thorik and Avanda were shocked at the comment, but a swift open hand from the storyteller alerted them to remain silent.
“After the war, Wyrlyn and Irluk went their own ways and began teaching others in their own methods of controlling the forces around them. Irluk took on a spiritual view of these forces, realizing that nature’s energy was not a series of random elements, but life embedded sources to tap into. She created a new thought and practice of casting spells which allowed those not as privileged to still perform E’rudite style acts. Her followers became known as Alchemists.”
Avanda smiled at the newfound knowledge. Thorik on the other hand was starting to understand where the story was leading, but unsure how it would get there.
Flailing his arms around, Bryus continued. “Two separate cultures evolved. The E’rudites, who believed the powers should only be accessible to those few who have been taught over countless years to control them with disciplined techniques, and the Alchemists, who believed that all people should benefit from nature’s powers. A deep chasm of disagreement and resentment grew between them until it exploded in a war between the two. But unlike any other war, this one affected time and space. It tore at the fabric of all things they had learned to control. The Govi Glade battlefield will never be the same.”
“The battle may have only lasted months in their time, but it lasted over a thousand years for the rest of Terra Australis. As far as I know, all were killed except Wyrlyn and Irluk. They continued to battle on, both being crippled and deformed from the magnitude of each other’s attacks. Eventually, Irluk was removed from the living and yet Wyrlyn was unable to fully eliminate her.”
“Wyrlyn had suffered as well. Unable to mend his own deformed body, he traveled to the Dovenar Kingdom and found a host for his essence. A young princess was unaware she was with child when Wyrlyn allowed his broken body to die as his spirit implanted a second child within her.”
“And so, Ambrosius was born only a moment prior to the original child, Tarosius, and thus taking on legal rights to the kingdom.”
Never one to hold back, Avanda blurted out her conclusion. “So, that’s why Irluk talked Bakalor into letting us go. She wishes to finish her fight with Wyrlyn, who is now Ambrosius. They let us go so we could lead her right to him.”
A moment of confusion crossed Bryus’ face, followed quickly by a smile. He nodded approval to her comment, without giving away whether he had himself come to the same conclusion.
Thorik eyes darted back and forth as he thought about the story as well as Avanda’s keen observations. “Why didn’t Ambrosius tell me?”
Relaxing his theatrical arm movements, the Alchemist sat back down in front of his campfire. “He has no memory of who he was as Wyrlyn. Only his powers prevailed in his leap into his new mother.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“I did. He didn’t believe me.”
“If he didn’t believe the story, then why do you believe it?”
Bryus’ face twitched and his half-formed smile made him look insane. “Because I don’t have a better theory. Do you?”
Chapter 13
Brimmelle’s Act