The Hessik and the Fount rivers merged together to form the Squalid Waters. Behind this joining of waterways stood a city of ruin as well as renewal. Damaged walls and new towers shared the same locations. A backdrop of sharp pointed mountain peaks added a feel of the land’s mouth opening and preparing to devour the city.
Ancient outer walls of sturdy granite now stood with gaping holes revealing centuries of construction and destruction. No recent attempts had been made to repair any borders; defensive measures were few.
Multiple bridges crossed both the Hessik River to the south and the Fount River to the west. Some had been destroyed from past battles and never restored.
Thorik woke and looked about with weary eyes, his head still painfully aware of the Chuttlebeast’s kick. “Where are we?”
“Welcome to Corrock, Sec,” Santorray said.
Santorray had taken control and brought them the rest of the way to the city during Thorik’s Chuttle-induced slumber. The Blothrud had kept the group of travelers far enough back from the city to prevent detection.
Thorik retained a shallow headache and a red bump on his forehead, in spite of Gluic’s healing techniques. Shaking off the lingering pain, he got straight to business. “Santorray, how do you propose we get inside?”
“I’ll walk in.”
Thorik slowly stood up to test his legs. “How about the rest of us?”
“You’re not coming with me.”
Already in a bad mood from the pounding still in his head, Thorik’s face flushed to match the lump above his brow. “Yes we are. This is our journey, which you joined, not the other way around. We will go in together.”
The Blothrud crossed his arms. “You’re going to make a very simple event into something complicated. Let me do what I need to do and I’ll bring Ericc out to you, assuming he ever made it to Corrock and that he’s not already dead.”
“Then I guess we’re going to make it complicated. I haven’t come all this way to just sit back and wait for you to find out what has happened to him. What was the point of obtaining the Spear of Rummon if I’m not even going to attempt to save Ericc? Ovlan wouldn’t have told us to get it if we didn’t need it.”
“Give me the spear if you think it’s needed. Nums aren’t welcome in Corrock except as slaves. You’re a liability.”
Thorik pulled the spear in tight. “No.”
“Seems odd that a Num would cling to a weapon which killed their king.”
Brimmelle scoffed at the comment. “It’s more likely that an assassin’s dagger held by a Blothrud killed our king.” Fortunately for Thorik, Fir Brimmelle didn’t take Santorray’s comment seriously.
“Ovlan told me that only I was to wield him,” Thorik added before Santorray could respond to the Fir’s verbal jab.
“Him? It’s an object. Metal, leather, skins.” Santorray bent down to grab it out of Thorik’s hands.
Thorik backed up, gripped the weapon firmly in both hands, pointing the spear at the Blothrud. “We’re going in together to save Ericc.”
Santorray instinctively grabbed the spear out of his hands before Thorik could react. “Don’t ever point a weapon at me. I’ve killed people for less.”
The moment became precarious as a low distant growl emanated from the weapon as Santorray held it to his side. Fragments of words could be heard but not understood as the spear began to glow red. Tunnel echoing sounds raced forward as though they were going to leap out of the object.
Santorray threw the spear to the ground, kicked dirt on it and stepped back with caution. “It’s possessed. The spirit of Rummon still lives within it.”
“And apparently doesn’t like Blothruds for some reason,” Thorik said.
“There’s a reason. The dragon Rummon was killed during an attempt to harness some of his energy for the most powerful weapon ever seen. Apparently they captured the dragon’s life force as well.”
“For who?”
“Ergrauth, the mightiest Blothrud Deleth ever created. He was unstoppable with the power of Rummon at his side, equal to that of the Oracles themselves. He dominated the land, air and water. At least until the spear was stolen and hidden, only to be unearthed thousands of years later by a little Num named Sec Thorik Dain.”
Thorik bent down and gently picked it back up. The ghostly voice subsided, as did the red glow. “Like I said, only I am to wield him.”
“Even if that old relic has that dragon’s soul, it is too old and weak to take on the entire forces of Corrock.”
Changing his grip on the spear, Thorik stood with confidence. “If this was such a powerful weapon for Ergrauth, perhaps it will do the same for me.”
“The heart of a Blothrud you have, Sec. But you fail to understand that you are just a Num, a Num without any soul-markings at that. What makes you think you can take on such a task?”
Soul-markings showed maturity and characteristics of Nums. To not have them, made others question Thorik’s ability to be taken seriously. He sighed while straightening his shoulders. “Ambrosius once told me that I was intended to be more and achieve great things in spite of my lack of markings. I believe he meant that I have an honorable lineage and that I have abilities passed down through generations. I was meant to be more than just an average Num.”
Santorray could appreciate his pride, but understood all too well the dangers inside the city. “And you will be. The average Num does not travel to Corrock to die.”
Chapter 28
Bound and Chained