Dor’Avell’s western range was sprinkled with small hot springs pouring from cracks in the steep mountainside. Mineral deposits stained the rocks below the flumes, painting artistic murals across a canvas a thousand feet high and tens of miles across.
Soft green hills of eastern Greensbrook clashed with the sudden cliff-face of the mountain range as though the land had suddenly broke free and lifted to a new level without any natural progression. Scattered chunks of the fractured cliff had fallen and embedded themselves into the soft soil below.
Venturing along the bottom of the natural divide, Thorik’s party discovered ancient black marble walls leaning against the base of the cliff. They were from a lone building, long forgotten and damage by several of the fallen rocks.
Santorray led them to the roofless structure, stopping several yards shy of reaching it. “We camp here for the night and climb in the morning.”
Thorik set his pack on an empty statue base and began unpacking his cooking utensils. “How are we going to get beyond the cliff face?”
“Straight up.”
“Not likely. It’s too dangerous for Avanda. Gluic and Brimmelle don’t have a chance.”
“You asked me to take you to Carrion Mire. It’s up there. Your poor choice for traveling companions is not my issue.”
“You joined us to help save Ericc. We come as a package. It’s all of us or none of us.”
Growling at the comment, Santorray hated taking the long way to do anything. “I’ll see if I can find an easier path.”
Brimmelle was breathing hard as he finished the final hill and reached the campsite. Watching the Blothrud explore the wall for a way up, he threw his gear down. “There is no way I’m climbing up that cliff.”
Santorray was nearing his breaking point. His patience with the constant complaining and issues of the Nums had been taxed. He knew if he reacted, he may not be able to stop himself from ripping someone’s head off, so he grumbled to himself instead.
Finding a fallen boulder surrounded by the lush grass of the area, Gluic climbed up on top and began her daily ritual of sorting her stones and gems. Each stone would be set in the pattern one at a time after she spoke to it and listened for a response. Afterward, she would close her eyes and let nature speak to her.
Brimmelle sat down near Thorik’s backpack to perform his daily reading of the Runestone Scrolls, in spite of the fact that he no longer had the actual scrolls. Thankfully he had them memorized, so he began reading them out loud.
Santorray could not stand Brimmelle’s monotone reading, which often went on for an hour or more. “Quiet, I’m not in the mood for your spiritual preaching.”
“The preaching you refer to are the words of the Mountain King himself. They command respect,” Brimmelle replied.
Santorray scoffed. “By who?”
“By all. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be free.”
“Not likely.”
“Do you not know of the Mountain King War against the Notarians? He freed your species from slavery. By winning the war he freed all species.”
“Winning the war? No Num won the Sovereignty War!”
“The what?” Brimmelle questioned.
“The war where the Del’Unday rebelled against the Notarians and destroyed their civilization, freeing all slaves.”
“Your facts are skewed. It was the Mountain King who freed them. A Polenum.”
“Your people may have had their own leader at the time, but it was Ergrauth himself that led the war and defeated them.”
“Sacrilege! How dare you disgrace the King and his actions with your false tales. Leave it to an Altered to decimate the truth for their own bidding.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“Absolutely!”
Grewen walked over between them and said nothing, in hopes of calming the two down by simply separating them.
Santorray stepped to the side to see past the giant while addressing the Num. “Then how do you explain the fact that we won the war?”
“You didn’t, we did.”
“The Del’Unday ruled this land for thousands of years following the war. How do you call that a win for the Nums?”
“The Mountain King won the war by freeing the slaves. It was only after this, that the Altereds assassinated our King and our people to take over the land. We fought for your freedom only to be cowardly back-stabbed by you Altereds.”
Santorray bit his lip to draw blood as he prepared to do battle.
By this point Grewen was having difficulty holding Santorray back from reaching the Fir and ripping him apart. “I think this debate is over,” Grewen said.
Thorik agreed with Grewen. “Brimmelle, can you help Avanda and I collect something to eat so Santorray can concentrate on tomorrow’s travels?”
“I haven’t finished my readings.”
Thorik helped the Fir to his feet. “Yes, I know, but Avanda and I will be down the hill collecting berries and we won’t be able to hear you from up here. Please join us.”
“Of course. I’m planning to read the Rune Scroll of Truth today. You should listen especially close to this.”
Down the hill the three Nums went, two picking berries and wild roots while listening to the third talk with little variation in his voice for nearly an hour. As always, his memory was perfect, but he lacked the ability to keep anyone’s interest.
Grewen waited for the Nums to leave to approach Santorray. “Why are you doing this?”
Santorray continued eyeing the cliff for an easier passage. “Doing what?”
“First of all, why did you save my life in the coliseum last autumn?”
“Is that an Ov’s best attempt at appreciation?”
Grewen realized his clumsiness in how he approached the subject and corrected himself. “Truth be said, truth be heard, you saved my life and I am grateful.”
“Accepted.”
“It’s not common for Blothruds to have such valor.”
“Who said anything about valor? I needed your help to escape, nothing more.”
Grewen nodded, feeling that it was closer to the truth than Thorik’s assumption of gallantry. “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”
They both stood there eyeing the cliff as Grewen continued. “Although I find it odd, that the Blothrud we run into in Woodlen ends up being the same one Thorik meets in Southwind. Your travels are quite extensive.”
“I could say the same for you.”
“Stop the charade, Santorray. Why are you here? Why would a Del’Unday care about helping a human boy?”
“I told you. I owe Ambrosius and wish to pay him back by saving his son.”
“A very honorable story. The kind that Thorik loves to hear. But I’ve met too many Del’Unday to believe this is just for your own inner peace of mind.”
“Think what you wish. I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“No, but you will owe one to Thorik if you veer from the path you have told him. He’s counting on you. He relies on you, and I will not stand by and let you hurt him. I don’t trust you, Santorray.”
“I never asked you to,” the Blothrud said before walking away.
Chapter 22
Symbols