Brimmelle rested his back against the side of yet another pyramid while Bryus attempted to determine if it was the way into the city. Grewen had already moved on to the next structure to speed up the process, as he and Bryus were taking every other one. The Num had stayed near the pyramids due to his fear of heights. Just the thought of approaching the sinkhole made his stomach churn.
Hot and bored, Brimmelle closed his eyes and began to recite the ancient words from the scrolls he had lost so long ago. Standing in the shade of the pyramid, he envisioned his followers back in Farbank all listening with great interest, hanging on to each and every glorious word he spoke. The Mountain King would have been so proud of him to see how he protected his writings. Oh, how he wished he could have met the King in person.
Over time, Brimmelle had started actually listening to the stories within the Mountain King Scrolls, instead of just reading the words. This revelation inadvertently caused his voice to fluctuate when he told it. It no longer was dry and monotone, then again, he was far from being a great bard. His pacing remained that of a drummer playing a death march.
The readings agitated Bryus, who was already struggling to concentrate on the ancient language. It was more difficult than he had let on. Working on a vertical side wall of the pyramid, he finally called out around the corner to Brimmelle. “Hold your tongue, Num. Or I’ll cast a spell to prevent you from using it.”
The comment was inappropriate in Brimmelle’s mind. “These are not just any words. These are the exact words handed down from the Mountain King. They are the foundation of the Rules of Order.”
“I don’t care whose words they are.”
Brimmelle was astounded at the lack of respect. “How can you not care?”
Bryus never looked away from the glyphs he was working on. “Because I don’t need you preaching to me about something I have no interest in.”
“Well, you should. The Mountain King saved our land from the Notarians.” Brimmelle walked around the corner to confront the Alchemist.
Bryus ignored him. “Good for him.” His response was flat and unemotional.
Shocked at the candor, Fir Brimmelle puffed up his chest to defend his king. “Good for you, as well! If it were not for him, you wouldn’t be free. We would all still be slaves.”
“So you say.”
“No, these are the facts!” Brimmelle corrected. “They were recorded and handed down generation after generation. He fought for freedom. He did this for all of us, including both you and I.”
Bryus had hit his limit. “Listen, you pompous little fat Num. Don’t stand there on your moral high ground and tell me what’s right and what’s not. You weren’t there, nor was I. I don’t owe him anything. He doesn’t even know me, so how could he possibly have done anything for me?”
“This…” Brimmelle’s hand shook as he pointed it at Bryus. The thick soul-markings across his body turned a deep shade of red as his blood accelerated through his veins. “This is why your land is at war. This is why you humans, Dels and Ovs can’t live in peace. You disrespect the one who has granted us all freedom. You disregard him and shun him from your beliefs. Even when we freely give you his words to live by, you ignore them. Your species will never survive. Eventually you will all end up killing each other and I hope you all end up in Della Estovia, assuming it really exists.”
Bryus finally turned from his glyph. “You ignorant Fesh-faced blow-hard. Don’t cram your beliefs down my throat and expect me to thank you for sweetening the dung you fed me. Your thoughts are old and outdated. They don’t serve our land any longer. Your perfect world of the Mountain King doesn’t fit into real life situations.”
“It did in Farbank!”
“Then go back to Farbank and leave us alone!”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do!”
“Then we agree!” Bryus’ voice was still raised and agitated.
“Yes, we agree,” Brimmelle announced as though he had won the discussion.
A long silence followed as the two didn’t know how to move forward from the point they had ended. Eventually, Brimmelle added onto his thought. “And because we agree, we need to get rid of the dagger.”
Bryus’ face twitched at the comment. “Listen up, little Num. By the fate of some odd fortunes, Thorik ended up with the enchanted Varacon dagger as well as the mighty Spear of Rummon. Either of which I would give my right arm for. But yet, the naïve Num doesn’t tap into the powers of either of them, nor does he wish to give them up, while you wish to toss them away as though they are trash. It makes no sense!” Shaking his head quickly, he attempted to unscramble the thoughts in his head. “I will wait for the opportunity to take Rummon off his hands, but until then, I plan to keep Varacon well hidden.”
The thick and messy eyebrows on Brimmelle’s face moved inwards and down. “I may have convinced Thorik to stop trying to reach Gluic for now, but my nephew is known to change course and strive for his original plans. And if he tries to reach my mother again with his Runestones, he will again find a potentially deadly vaporish spirit next to you. The boy can be foolhardy, but he is not stupid. He will quickly realize that you have the dagger.”
With eyes thinning, Bryus glared at the robust Num. “I plan to keep Varacon. You’d have to be ignorant or stupid to not realize this by now.”
Brimmelle puffed up his chest in defiance. “Are you calling me stupid?”
“No, I gave you two options to choose from,” Heavy arrogance filled his tone.
Flustered, Brimmelle didn’t know how to respond.
Bryus grinned at the Num’s frustration. “The key for both of us to succeed is to prevent Thorik from using the Runestone.”
“How?” Brimmelle was apprehensive of the Alchemist’s plans.
“I could make a spell to break his fingers so he couldn’t hold them. Or I could just poison him and resolve the entire issue.”
“I think those are a little drastic.”
“That means so much from a Num who recently wished my entire species would go to Della Estovia. We’re talking about one insignificant little Num, one that never grew any soul-markings. What’s wrong with him anyway? Is he diseased or something? I’ve never seen one of your species without your markings.”
“He’s odd, but not ill.” Brimmelle was slightly embarrassed about one his family members looking or acting wrong. He felt it was a reflection on himself.
“Pity, I thought he might pass away on his own, resolving our issues. And honestly, who would miss Thorik?”
Brimmelle didn’t say a word. He never thought he’d be in a conversation where he would have to defend his nephew. As much as he grumbled about Thorik, he knew the younger Num was always trying to do good, even if it wasn’t within the words of the Mountain King’s writings.
Bryus continued after a surprised scoff. “You would miss him? You complain about him all the time. Your life would be so much better off without him. You could return home and all would be well. This sounds like too easy of a solution.”
“You’re not going to kill my nephew or any other Num if I have anything to say about it. Nor will we hurt the boy. It’s wrong to even think about it. Your solutions are extreme. Does morality escape you completely?”
“Listen, most people are just in the way of progress. They’re either idiots or naive and exist only because they have a framework of civilization that allows them to. If they do their job, they can survive. Few can survive without it. Fewer still have the capacity to establish the framework in the first place.”
Brimmelle crossed his arms. “Where are you going with this?”
“The masses are expendable. They are easily replaced and are a waste of my time. There are really only a few of us that make life livable for the rest. This Num folklore Mound King of yours-”
“Mountain King,” Brimmelle quickly corrected.
“Yes. Fine. Whatever. He sounds to me like one of those few who could establish the framework needed for your people to live. But
let’s be honest, beyond this king of yours, there hasn’t been more than a few Nums that have made any contribution to the world.”
“I have!”
“You have spoken his words and tried to enforce them.” Bryus chuckled at the thought. “If you hadn’t done it someone else would have been there to do it. You’re just one more drone in the Mountain King’s framework, doing what you were told.”
“I’ll have you know I play a key role in the upbringing of Farbank’s children.”
“Really? Do they all look up to you and come running down the street to thank you for changing their lives? Do they go out of their way to be with you and learn more from you? I seriously doubt that.”
The words hit hard. Fir Brimmelle had always been very distant from the villagers. In fact, it was Thorik that would have met Bryus’ description long before Brimmelle. “This conversation isn’t about me. It’s about preventing Thorik from finding the dagger.”
“Really? I thought we were discussing the mating rituals of the Chuttlebeast.” Bryus turned back to the glyph on the pyramid wall. “Get rid of Thorik and we solve the problem.”
“I’m not going to allow you to kill my nephew.”
“Well, I’m not getting rid of Varacon. Therefore you’ll have to destroy the Runestones so he can’t use them.”
Brimmelle had never considered the idea. “Destroy the Runestones?”
“Yes, unless they are ancient and powerful. In that case, I want them.”
“They were handed down to him through generations. I don’t know how old they are, but they represent the Mountain King symbols, which we live by. The idea of destroying anything in the form of a Runestone is sacrilegious.”
Bryus shrugged his shoulders. “Then eliminate Thorik. There you have it. Two great options to keep that little brain of yours thinking for the next few days.”
He had no comeback. Brimmelle was outsmarted on every verbal assault he had tried. So, to avoid any further abuse, he slowly began to walk quietly away from the Alchemist and around the corner of the pyramid.
“Idiot,” Bryus mumbled to himself before shouting out instructions to the Fir. “Brimmelle, bring me my water. I need a drink.” He was confident that the Num was beaten down enough to take orders. Bryus always enjoyed adding a little salt into the wound.
Dazed, Brimmelle walked over to Bryus’ gear and reached in for a water skin. But in doing so, he accidentally uncovered Varacon. Staring at it, he considered stealing it. But he hesitated as he thought about the Mountain King’s words against such acts. Then again, he had already stolen it from Thorik and then Bryus had blackmailed it away from Brimmelle. Perhaps this act was not stealing, but was instead an act of reversing Bryus’ unethical act. The Fir’s own ethics were in turmoil as he studied Varacon and questioned Thorik’s and Bryus’ thoughts about the dagger. “Do two wrongs make a right?” he asked himself. “I started this, and I need to end it.” Snatching the weapon, he covered it with a cloth and hid it inside his shirt.
Eventually Fir Brimmelle returned around the corner and handed Bryus his water.
“It’s about time,” Bryus said.
Brimmelle nodded and returned out of view with a slight grin on his face. “Fool,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Idiot,” Bryus said again as he finished deciphering the glyph. “Well, this isn’t the correct entrance. At this pace we should have it figured out by the time they change the ramp to a new pyramid.”
“Bryus,” Grewen shouted from two structures away. His baritone voice rumbled across the desert as he called out to the Alchemist. “I found our way down.”
Chapter 17
Sinkhole